#if i had the time and energy i would love to sit down and animate an entire vod or episode of his

[lucy-literates]

Well, Lewis would be possessive of his girl 🤭

Next idea is again with a younger reader (28 years old) and she is Roscoes nanny and they fall in love :)

Greetings :)

A/N: I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hopefully, you enjoy this one too! Ibox is open :)

The Heart He Didn't See Coming

You were hired to take care of Roscoe. That was it.

Just a temporary gig—two months, max—while Lewis figured out travel schedules and recovered from back-to-back races. You’d been recommended by a friend of his physio, and your background in animal behavior and gentle energy made the decision easy.

Still, Lewis hadn’t expected you.

He hadn’t expected the way Roscoe took to you almost immediately, curling at your feet within twenty minutes of meeting you, snorting contentedly as you scratched the perfect spot behind his ear like you'd known him for years.

And he definitely hadn’t expected the sound of your laughter in his kitchen to feel like something he’d been missing.

“You sure you’re not feeding him treats under the table?” Lewis asked one morning, as Roscoe followed you around with that adoring, bulldog loyalty that had taken even him months to earn.

“I only give him carrots,” you replied, turning to him with a grin. “You’re the one sneaking him bites of your toast, champion.”

His smirk deepened. “Can’t help it. He looks at me like I hung the moon.”

You tilted your head. “So do you, sometimes.”

Lewis blinked. You didn’t even realize what you’d said—or maybe you did, because you turned away quickly to refill Roscoe’s water bowl, humming like it hadn’t just made his chest go tight.

That was the beginning of the ache.

It wasn’t supposed to be romantic.

He was older. Busier. Constantly surrounded by people and noise and cameras. You were quieter. Sunshine and calm. Someone who moved through life like it didn’t owe you anything, and still, you chose joy.

But when you walked Roscoe through the paddock at Silverstone—laughing as he tried to chase a golf cart—and handed Lewis a little cloth-wrapped lunch you’d packed for him, just in case the catering was late, he’d stood there for a moment too long, something warm rising in his throat.

“You’re ridiculous,” he’d said softly.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

After that, things got blurry around the edges.

One evening in Monaco, the sky cracked open unexpectedly.

You and Roscoe had gone for your usual walk along the waterfront, but the rain hit faster than forecast. By the time you got home, soaked and laughing, Roscoe was a damp loaf of contentment at your side.

Lewis opened the door before you even knocked.

“Jesus, you’re drenched—get in, quick.” He grabbed a towel and gently rubbed Roscoe down while you toed off your wet sneakers.

You were dripping in the hallway, mascara smudged slightly, Lewis’s hoodie shoved into your arms without him thinking twice.

It was warm. Soft. Smelled like cedarwood and whatever expensive cologne he wore sparingly but perfectly.

“Go change,” he said, “you’ll catch a cold.”

You returned a few minutes later, barefoot and wearing the hoodie over your leggings. Roscoe was curled in his usual spot by the couch, and Lewis looked up at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“You should’ve called me,” he said. “I would’ve picked you up.”

You blinked. “You were busy. Besides, it’s just rain.”

He shook his head, then patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit. You’re always running around after my wellbeing. Let me return the favour for once.”

You hesitated—but then sat.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. Not really. But the hoodie was warm and Roscoe was snoring and Lewis’s hand moved gently over your shoulder while you listened to him talk about his next race strategy in that low, rhythmic tone.

When you woke up, your head was on his chest.

And his arm was around you.

Things changed after that.

Not drastically. Just... quietly.

Lingering glances. Soft touches. A new depth to your late-night conversations. He started asking you questions that had nothing to do with Roscoe: What did you want from life? Had you ever been in love? What scared you?

You didn’t ask him the same things out loud. You didn’t need to. You watched the way he talked to his team, how gently he moved around people, how he stood on the edge of the ocean sometimes like he was still searching for something.

One night, as you handed him a mug of peppermint tea, he said it—so softly you nearly missed it:

“You make this place feel like home.”

Your breath caught.

“It’s because you finally stopped running,” you whispered.

There was a pause. Then his hand found yours.

“No,” he said. “It’s because I found something worth staying for.”

You kissed him a few seconds later.

It wasn’t rushed. It was the kind of kiss that built over weeks. Careful. Reverent. Your fingers slipped into his curls, and he hummed softly against your mouth like the moment had been waiting for you both.

Roscoe snorted in his sleep. You both laughed.

The next few weeks were a blur of quiet touches and shared mornings.

He kissed your shoulder while you prepped Roscoe’s meals. You slid handwritten notes into his travel bags. You didn’t go public—not right away—but his team knew. And they all smiled when you were around, like you were exactly what he needed.

But then the press found out.

Photos. Speculation. Headlines: “Roscoe’s Nanny, Hamilton’s New Flame?”

It wasn’t cruel—but it was invasive. You panicked. You didn’t want to be seen as a trophy, or someone temporary.

“I never wanted to be a scandal,” you said one night, eyes shiny. “I didn’t want to be a story someone clicks on.”

Lewis shook his head and crossed the room to hold you.

“You’re not a scandal,” he said firmly. “You’re not a story. You’re the person who brings Roscoe his toy at bedtime and sings along to my awful shower playlists. You’re the one thing in my life that feels real.”

You blinked. He tucked a hand beneath your chin.

“And if the world can’t see that… then I’ll show them.”

Three days later, he posted a photo.

No caption. Just you, Roscoe, and him on a balcony, wrapped in blankets, sipping tea. Your head on his shoulder. Roscoe snoozing across both your laps.

It went viral in seconds.

But the response shocked you.

“This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen.” “I want what they have.” “Protect this trio at all costs.”

Your inbox flooded with kindness. People saw you. And more importantly—they saw the love.

A few months later, Lewis took you to a beach on your day off. It was quiet. Peaceful. Roscoe ran in wide circles, barking happily at the waves.

You sat on a blanket, his arm around you, sun low in the sky.

Then he called Roscoe over.

There was a velvet box tied to Roscoe’s collar.

Your heart skipped.

“It’s not a ring,” Lewis said quickly. “Not yet. I just... wanted to ask if we can keep doing this. You. Me. Roscoe. All of it.”

You opened the box. Inside was a small gold charm: a tiny dog paw next to a heart.

“Yes,” you said, instantly.

He kissed you again, deeper this time.

Roscoe barked once. Loudly. Offended at being ignored.

You both laughed against each other’s mouths.

And maybe love hadn’t come in the way you expected. But it arrived exactly when it was meant to.

With muddy pawprints, fresh tea, and the softest man you’d ever known.

[leons-art-pit]

more of the silly redstone guys

tango and etho talking/arguing about Hungry Hermits features is so silly to me i love them <3

[uppersidedreaminnn]

DAISUKI ★ N.RK

SYNOPSIS: in which you surprise your boyfriend by speaking japanese.

PAIRING: nishimura riki x fem! reader

GENRE: fluff, established relationship, humor

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated. let me know your thoughts!

“kuso.” riki mutters under his breath, causing you to turn your head toward him.

the two of you are sprawled comfortably on the couch, riki focused on his game, clicking rapidly at the buttons of his controller, completely immersed. while you scroll mindlessly on your phone, both of you exist in your own little bubble.

“what does that mean?” you ask, curiosity piqued at the word you've heard riki mutter multiple times. though you already have a vague guess.

riki glances at you briefly before slowing down his movements on the controller. “nothing,” he brushes off, returning his gaze to the screen. you hum not don’t pushing it further.

the night drags on, and soon, the two of you decide to watch an anime together—a movie you’ve both been waiting to release for some time now. nestled comfortably in each other’s arms, you watch as the story unfolds. before you know it, the credits roll. the two of you done for the night, you both get ready for bed.

waiting for riki to finish up in the bathroom, you lie alone in bed and remember the moment earlier. ever so curious, you grab your phone and search for the word riki often mutters under his breath. no doubt it was in his mother tongue, japanese.

the search results make you chuckle, confirming your suspicion—the words he often whispers are curse words. falling into a rabbit hole of japanese vocabulary, you practice the words that show up silently.

“daisuki?” your eyes scan the screen as you scroll down a beginner’s guide. “'daisuki' is a japanese word and expression that means to like or love something a great amount.” your gaze lingers on the next line.

“it's often used to say you love someone.”

hmm. these words might come in handy. 

the following days with riki are chaotic, to say the least. your boyfriend always keeps you on your toes, constantly teasing you, play-fighting with you (seriously, are we ten?), and worst of all, stealing your food. after a long day of dealing with his hyper energy, you sigh, in desperate need of a time-out.

your eyes trail to the couch and the controller left unattended on the coffee table, practically calling your name. you plop down, turning on the game, controller in hand. before long, you’re fully immersed, fingers gripping the buttons tightly as gunfire and other game sound effects echo in the room. the victory chime rings, and a smug grin spreads across your face. clicking start, you prepare for another round—

until a hand swiftly snatches the controller away.

“riki,” you whine, standing from your spot to reclaim it. agile and a lot taller than you, he swiftly dodges your movements.

“nu-uh,” he tuts, shaking his head in amusement as he moves further away. rounding back to the couch, he plops down. “it’s my turn now.”

you roll your eyes, huffing in annoyance at having been cut off short of your game.

“uzai.” you mutter the japanese word foreign on your tongue, sending a death glare in riki’s way, sitting comfortably in your spot.

you knew the word would elicit some sort of reaction, and you were right.

“what?” riki looks at you immediately, his expression unreadable, though amusement flickers in his eyes.

you take a few steps forward, arms crossed. “i said,” you repeat slowly, “uzai.” you try to sound confident in your pronunciation, though you barely remember the proper way to say it from the japanese guide you read.

riki chuckles, his confusion morphing into pure amusement. “hontou ni?” he replies, clicking start on his game. his response making you annoyed at yet another phrase you had no idea the meaning to.

“where’d you learn that word?” he asks as he begins his round, eyes still locked onto the screen.

“google. where else?” you shrug, plopping down beside him, watching intently as the game unfolds.

riki doesn’t respond to your sarcasm, too focused on his game. you smirk, seizing the opportunity and snatching the controller from his grasp.

“hey!” he exclaims, frowning at you, lips tugging into a pout as he watches you start playing.

you only chuckle. “you started it.”

things wind down as the night progresses, the two of you tangled on the couch, exhaustion finally settling in. an anime plays softly on the screen, but neither of you pay much attention. you snuggle closer to riki, sighing in contentment at the much more peaceful atmosphere.

just as you feel yourself slipping into sleep, riki speaks.

“since when did you start speaking japanese?” his voice is low, curious.

you hesitate, suddenly feeling shy. “uhm…” you start, trying to find the words. “you say things i don’t understand all the time.” you explain. “so, naturally, i got curious and looked them up.” you shift slightly. “i guess i just picked some up. don’t blame me.” you finish off your explanation.

riki lets out a soft laugh, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “that really caught me off guard, baby.” he tilts his head down to look at you. another thought crosses his mind. “what other words did you learn?” he asks, interest piqued. secretly, just wanting to hear you speak japanese again. even, if it’s just to tell him off.

you hum, feigning sleepiness. “there is this one word,” you murmur, a smirk ghosting your lips as you remember its meaning.

riki watches you, anticipation clear in his eyes.

you pause for a second, recalling the pronunciation as best as you can.

“daisuki?” your voice is soft, hesitant.

riki freezes. did he hear that right?

“again?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. the atmosphere shifts, the teasing laced with something more intimate.

this time, you say it firmly. “daisuki.” you lift yourself from his chest to meet his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips.

riki groans, heat rising to his cheeks. “such a menace.” he mutters, looking down at you fondly.

finding the effect of the word on him amusing, you tease further. “daisuki, riki.” you say clearer. 

his breath hitches. he drags a hand through his hair before shaking his head, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

“daisuki.” he says back to you. this time it was his time to make you flustered as he pulled you even closer.

“guess i should learn more words now,” you muse, laughing softly against his chest.

[atimelessheaven]

mom!paige x mom!reader taking their afternoon nap with their baby girl when all of a sudden she got curious with paige’s phone and accidentally go on live on paige’s instagram

FAMILY NAP MISHAPS

fluff ◡̈

warning: none that i can think of! let me know if i missed any!

this is my first request, hopefully i did it justice.

*please excuse any grammar errors! ◡̈ *

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

paige and her wife had just gotten their daughter, matilda, into the car after a meltdown about not wanting to leave the park. little tilly definitely had no chill, and was just go, go, go. so it wasn’t surprising she was upset about leaving.

they were exhausted to say the least, and tilly? oh she was knocked out. completely asleep in her car seat two seconds into the drive home. paige looking in the rearview mirror and then over to her wife for a split second before saying “you know since we are already tired, and she’s napping so she’s for sure going to stay up late tonight, we should take naps too. we have to prepare.” paige’s wife laughing, “you say that like we are going to war” paige rolls her eyes “we might as well be with how insane she is coming off of her nap time high.” “well i am pretty sleepy, i guess a nap to prepare for the tilly war sounds nice.”

when they finally arrive home, paige’s wife going inside to start getting herself nap ready while paige was tasked with getting their daughter in the house without waking her. tilly looked so peaceful in her sleep but paige was just stuck wondering how she manages to sleep with her head at that angle in her car seat. paige unbuckled her as quietly as possible, and picks her up as gently as possible trying to keep her asleep. to paige’s disappointment tilly opens her eyes “mama?” “shhhh go back to sleep, you’re sleepy.” “play?” “no baby it’s nap time. we can play after nap time.”

immediately taking offense tilly cried “mama mean” “see baby you’re so upset because you’re still sleepy. you need a nap.” tilly tried very hard to push herself away from paige, paige sighing and putting her down. this child was always going to test her patience. her wife had been telling her since they had matilda that paige felt so challenged because tilly was her. they acted the exact same.

tilly immediately running to find her mommy. “mommy, mama mean. want you” immediately picking tilly up asking her what’s wrong “how is mama being mean baby? what’s the matter?” tilly just pouted holding onto her mommy. “babe, why is tilly so upset?” she asked hearing paige finally walking inside “i told her it was nap time and she would have to wait until after to play.” paige’s wife giggles and looks at tilly, who’s sitting there staring at paige, like she had just threw away all of her stuffed animals. “wanna play now” tilly states. “tilly baby we can’t always get our way, mama is right you do need a nap, we are all going to take a nap. “mommy nap with me?” “yes baby, mama and i will both nap with you.”

after all three of them got ready for their nap, they’re finally all laying in bed. tilly between them, clearly favoring her mommy, since she’s still holding a grudge against paige not letting her play. paige had even attempted to turn on her side and hold both of her girls, but tilly whined and tried kicking her off. “no tilly. kicking is not nice. apologize to mama” her mommy immediately corrected. tilly rolled over snuggling up at paige “im sorry mama, didn’t mean to make you sad, i just wanted mommy because you made me sad” “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad, mama just knew you were tired and needed to sleep after using that much energy at the park. me and mommy always know what’s best, we would never mean to upset you we just know what’s best for you.” paige says frowning knowing she made her princess sad, but she knows it was for a good reason. “i love you mama” “mama loves you more princess tilly” paige says snuggling up finally with both of her girls. they all ended up finally getting that nap.

an hour or so later tilly wakes up, she sees a phone next to her mama. obviously her little toddler mind wants to play with the phone. she always sees her moms using them, she wants to, too. somehow after some messing around she finds talking to her aunt kk? “aunt kk!! miss you” “i miss you too tilly girl! how did you get your mamas phone?” kk asks confused. “mama and mommy sleeping, and i awake, so i play on phone” tilly says like it’s obvious. “tilly girl can you wake up your mama? i wanna talk to her” tilly immediately nods and starts shaking paige “mama wake up, aunt kk wants to talk to you” paige grumbles “tilly baby, go back to sleep” “no mama wake up kk wants you” “tilly i thought we were all nappi- wait did you say aunt kk? what is going on?” paige says immediately getting up.

“what’s up p boogers?? tilly girl went live somehow on your phone and i joined” kk says half laughing at paige’s confused face. “how does a almost three year old even figure that out?? she can’t even read” paige says shocked. “mama mad?” tilly asks suddenly aware that she did something she wasn’t supposed to. “no baby mama isn’t mad at you, i’m honestly impressed you managed to do that. we do need to talk about not using mama’s phone when she’s not with you though.” paige says smiling at her little princess. “okay guys that’s enough of tilly’s nap time shenanigans. i’m going to get off live now, well end tilly’s live” paige says laughing while reading the chat. “say bye bye tills” “bye bye aunt kk, bye bye peoples” tilly says as paige ends the live.

[miltonbarbie]

Wukong, Mk, and Macaque with a very hyperactive + bubbly crush </3

[Mentions of NSFW]

🍑 Wukong 🍑

He always loved how talkative and straightforward you were, he's never seen someone as confident as you before.

When you first met, his first thought was literally just: WOW. This person is A LOT.

Would honestly listen to you for hours even considering that he can get impatient with other people sometimes.

Greet him with a hug, he'll try playing it off all cool and stuff but he lays awake at night thinking about it.

You two go out to the amusement park a lot. And your always dragging him to roller coasters or REALLY fast rides. He's 100% gonna excuse himself to go to the washroom and then throw up. But he loves you too much to ask you to leave.

He notices every little thing you do, like when your sitting down and you start kicking your feet. He's gonna die and come back to life.

As much as an amazing, strong, powerful and supercool (his words, not yours!) Diety he is, when he thinks about you he legit starts twirling around and jumping up and down squealing like he's your biggest fan.

I feel like he's really good at art, so he's gonna ask if he can draw you once in a while. Tell him you love it, and he's just gonna fall for you again. Even better if you hang it up in your house.

When you start dating, you'll feel more comfortable enough to get more relaxed around him, but it still shocks him how behaved you can be if you want to. He's definitely still used to you being all Impulsive and whatnot.

You two are literally the embodiment of eccentric reckless cutie x chill enabler and it works so well for you two.

This immortal fucking GOD is simping over a hyperactive human dumbass and he feels absolutely no shame for it.

Also let's be real, Wukong is the biggest whore known to mankind. So we all know damn well he's had fantasies of pounding that little mortal pvssy until you screamed.

🍜 Mk 🍜

Oh boy oh boy..

YOU TWO ARE LITERALLY MEANT FOR EACH OTHER. PERIOD.

You two gush over everything together, doesn't matter whether it's a show you love or some random shit Mk keeps rambling about like some bootleg illegal ripoff of a Monkey king inspired video game called "MONKE KANG: Asskicker 3D"!!!!!!!!

You both are stupid but you love each other justtt the same <3

In between shifts he'll get caught by Pigsy trying to text you and he'll do it again. And again. And aga-

So much ADHD.. You two get overstimulated being around the other so as much as you don't want, you have to take breaks from seeing him sometimes.

But even with all that energy he has, you still can't get enough of lil' ol' Mk.

He once tried to secretly replace himself with a clone because he wanted to hang out with you but got busy.. You found out right away and yapped about it for 4 hours.

Mk is emotionally unavailable most of the time, so when you two get some alone time, it takes all the strength in him not to confess flat-out because he missed you so so much.

Sometimes he wishes he wasn't the Monkie Kid because it takes time away from being near you. But it's okay, you plan stuff every once in a while.

You got really jumpy and happy when he showed you his Monkey form, and he let you brush his fur for the rest of the day. Now he's like that most of the time because one, he can't really control it. And two, you love his monkey form anyway!

He's definitely thought of fucking you animal-style in that form too.

Have fun being idiots together, the rest of the gang are on literal MISSIONS to keep you two apart.

🎭 Macaque 🎭

Ohhoo he loves seeing that stupidly pretty face of yours whenever you get all excited..

But to be honest, he thought you were REALLY FUCKING ANNOYING at the beginning when he first met you.

He only began to soften up a few weeks or maybe a month or two after realizing how much of a sweetheart you were, and that your hyperactive traits were just a part of what makes you, you.

Sometimes when you're in your room and you're on a call with someone, he'll send one of his shadow clones to listen to your voice for him so he can jerk off to it.

You go to all of his plays, and he's usually a confident guy. But one look at YOU? He's so close to accidentally stuttering on the stage he has to mentally slap himself to make sure not to.

His biggest turn-on is when you wear skirts and you're jumping around all giggly n stuff while he gets the perfect view of your ass.. That's why he prefers to walk beside you or slightly behind you to get that 4k quality.

You two definitely have that Yapper + Listener vibe. You can talk about some absolute bullshit and hell, he'll still be listening to you. But half the time he zones out imagining what that mouth of yours would look like on his cock.

He wanted to buy you roses but got embarrassed (surprisingly) and shoved them up Wukong's ass.

He's a biter. He's such a biter and even while keeping that "friendly" attitude with you, he always finds a way to put his teeth on you. Whether you're fighting over a snack or play fighting. Even during a regular conversation he just bites your shoulder?? Kinky much??? (Yes, he is.)

You found him sleeping on top of your ceiling so you threw a rock at him to wake him up and he started borderline hissing at you like he had rabies. He then realized it was you and didn't speak to you for a whole week.

You make him do things he wouldn't regularly do and it pisses him off.

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

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[tobiosbbyghorl]

Ripped and Ready ( For You) | psh | 2

part 1

Sunghoon’s hand stayed tucked in yours as you slipped out of the supply room, flushed and trying your best not to look like you just devoured your boyfriend like a snack.

Which, to be fair, you almost did.

The shirt still clung to his torso. The “Ripped and Ready” lettering was a damn taunt, now slightly wrinkled from where you’d fisted it earlier.

And as he bent down to help Jay with the mic cords, the girls across the gym squealed again.

You smiled sweetly. Let them look.

You didn’t miss the glances. The whispers. The not-so-subtle giggles from the girls who definitely noticed how stupidly hot your boyfriend looked today.

Normally, you were chill. You liked keeping your relationship private—not because you were hiding it, but because he liked it that way. He didn’t want attention. Didn’t know how to handle being noticed, let alone being thirsted after.

But today?

Today he needed a reminder.

So when he leaned down to get the speaker cables from the stage box, you gently tugged him behind the curtain under the guise of helping.

“Something wrong?” he whispered, blinking as you pressed your body close to his.

“Just fixing something,” you said innocently—and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss just under his jaw, right where the black shirt’s collar dipped low.

You lingered. Let your tongue flick. Then sucked, hard enough to leave a soft, blooming red mark that would sit just above the shirt line.

He jolted a little. “Y/N—!”

You smiled and gently pulled away. “Now it’s perfect.”

He blushed deeply, brushing his fingers over the spot.

You pecked his cheek. “Go back out there, handsome.”

And he did—quietly flustered, lips pink and slightly swollen, face flushed, with your mark visible every time he turned his head.

You watched from across the gym, sipping a cold drink with Sunoo.

“Did you…” he narrowed his eyes. “Is that a hickey?”

You smirked.

Sunoo shrieked. “You animal!”

Sunghoon, across the room, noticed the staring and quickly tugged at his shirt, shyly covering the mark. But it was too late—the girls definitely noticed now.

That’s when he texted you.

hoon: can we leave early

hoon: please

hoon: my ears are burning

hoon: and so is… other stuff

You bit your lip and texted back.

you: My place or yours?

hoon: mine. mom’s out tonight.

hoon: come ruin me

You nearly choked on your drink.

⸻

Sunghoon’s Room – Later That Night

The second the door clicked behind you, he turned, eyes already a little hazy, nervous energy buzzing under his skin.

“You’re mean,” he murmured, but he wasn’t mad. Not at all.

“You loved it,” you teased, slipping your arms around his waist, fingers curling under the hem of that cursed shirt. “You liked everyone knowing who you belong to.”

He didn’t answer—just leaned forward and kissed you, deep and messy, like he’d been holding it in all day.

And maybe he had.

You backed him toward his bed, hands slipping under the shirt, palms finally, finally gliding over his warm, firm skin. He sucked in a breath when you touched his abs, like it tickled—but when you dragged your nails down slowly, he whimpered softly.

“Off,” you whispered.

He obeyed instantly.

The shirt hit the floor, and you took a moment to just look. His chest, his arms, his flushed skin—the shyest boy in school, half-naked and panting in front of you, all lean muscle and bashful eyes.

“You’re so hot,” you murmured, kissing down his neck to that hickey, licking over it again just to make him squirm. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

“I… I think I’m starting to get it,” he whispered, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“You don’t have to do anything,” you assured, gently guiding him back to the bed. “Just lie down for me, baby.”

He let you push him back onto the mattress, propping himself up on his elbows, watching you with parted lips as you climbed over him.

He gasped when you ground down lightly, your clothed core brushing his growing bulge.

“Y/N,” he breathed. “Feels—ngh—feels so good.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” you whispered, kissing down his chest, taking your time.

He whimpered your name when you bit lightly over his ribs, licking afterward. His thighs twitched when your hands spread them open further.

You tugged off his pants slowly, dragging them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, flushed and leaking, twitching at the cool air and your gaze.

He blushed so hard you could see it down his chest.

You leaned forward and kissed his inner thigh. “Still okay, baby?”

He nodded furiously. “Please… just—want you. So bad.”

You smiled and rewarded him by wrapping your hand gently around his length, stroking slow.

He bit his lip, gasping, eyes fluttering.

When you finally took him in your mouth, he choked on a moan—one hand flying to your hair, the other fisting the sheets as his thighs trembled.

You didn’t rush.

You licked up the shaft, circled the head, and took him in slowly, letting his whimpers guide you.

When his hips bucked a little, you held him down with a hand on his stomach and hummed around him.

That nearly broke him.

“Gonna—ngh—Y/N, I’m gonna—!”

You pulled off just in time, stroking him while he trembled. “Wanna come inside me instead?”

He looked like you just offered him the heavens.

You climbed into his lap, rolling your hips over him once, slowly—watching his lashes flutter.

Then you sank down—inch by inch—taking him all the way until you were seated, full, and his hands were gripping your waist like he’d fall apart without you.

His mouth dropped open. “Oh my god—”

You rolled your hips once, and he nearly sobbed.

“You okay?”

He nodded quickly. “Too good. Too good. Please don’t stop.”

You didn’t.

You moved slow at first, letting him feel everything—his hands worshipping every part of you they could reach. You felt perfect to him. Better than perfect.

He kept whispering things—soft praises, broken moans, your name like a prayer.

And when you leaned down to kiss him, he held you close, one arm wrapping fully around your back like he never wanted to let go.

“Mine,” you whispered against his lips.

“Yours,” he breathed. “Only ever yours.”

When he came, it was with a soft cry into your neck, body shaking as you held him through it.

You followed shortly after, overwhelmed by the way he felt, the way he loved you without saying it, the way he let you ruin him with just a look.

⸻

Later, wrapped in his blanket, shirtless and dazed, he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “I’ll never wear that shirt again.”

You laughed, poking his cheek. “Not even for me?”

He grinned. “Maybe. But next time… you’re the one wearing something dangerous.”

You smirked, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Deal.”

⸻

You weren’t sure what woke you up first—the soft stream of sunlight peeking through the curtains, or the weight wrapped around your middle.

“Mmph… don’t move.”

Sunghoon’s voice was groggy, low, and still tangled in sleep. He was pressed to your back, arms locked tightly around your waist, face buried against your shoulder.

You smiled lazily and turned slightly, just enough to face him.

His hair was messy, lips swollen, eyes only half-open—and he looked so content, nuzzling into your chest like he was charging back to full power off your warmth.

“You okay?” you whispered, brushing some hair off his forehead.

“Yeah,” he murmured, kissing your collarbone absentmindedly. “Tired. Happy.”

You kissed his cheek. “We should get up soon. I promised Sunoo I’d help pack up the booths this morning.”

Sunghoon groaned dramatically. “No. We live here now. In bed. Forever.”

You laughed. “Babe…”

“I mean it,” he mumbled, holding you tighter. “I’ll give you anything. Just don’t leave me for cold pancakes and gym cleanup.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, clingy.”

He cracked an eye open and smirked, leaning forward to kiss you—slow and sweet and very good-morning.

You melted a little.

He pulled away with a sleepy grin. “You taste like my toothpaste.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you brush after?”

He looked suspiciously smug. “Maybe. Wanted to be kissable in case you woke up first.”

You were about to tease him more when—

Knock knock knock.

You both froze.

“Sunghoon? Are you up? I brought breakfast!” his mom called sweetly from the hallway.

Your eyes widened, but Sunghoon just blinked calmly.

You whispered, “Oh my god—did she come in?!”

“She has a key,” he whispered back, yawning. “Relax, we’re dressed.”

You were, thank god—one of his oversized sweatshirts on you, and Sunghoon in joggers and a tee you swore was inside out.

He got up and shuffled to the door barefoot, cracking it open just enough to peek out.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, sweetie,” she said warmly. “I saw Y/N’s shoes—she’s here, right?”

“Yeah. She’s still sleeping.”

You leaned into view from the bed, smiling sheepishly. “Morning, Mrs. Park.”

Her face lit up. “There’s my favorite girl! I brought you both croissants and strawberry milk. Want me to heat them?”

You sat up, tugging the covers modestly over your legs. “You’re the best, really.”

“Aw, stop it. You kids behave. I’m going to garden. Breakfast is on the counter!”

Sunghoon closed the door and leaned his forehead against it.

“She definitely knows,” he muttered.

“She definitely loves me,” you corrected, and he turned with a reluctant smile.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes soft as he walked back toward you, “I do too.”

You blinked. “You love me?”

He stopped.

His cheeks turned pink immediately, but he didn’t back down. “…Yeah. I do.”

You pulled him back into bed and kissed him until neither of you needed croissants to feel full.

©️tobiosbbyghorl - all rights reserved

permanent taglist: @ijustwannareadstuff20 @hoonielvv @rjssierjrie @firstclassjaylee @morganaawriterr @rikifever @daisyintherainsposts @kkamismom12 @pocketzlocket @semi-wife @soona-huh

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 16

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose. Also Discussion of toxic media/fandom/death threats

Me trying to put all the stuff I wanted in one chapter: exploding head emoji.

If you wonder why there are no cute little pictures in that: If I did that, this would have gotten way too long, it's already 3.5k. (which is also why I didn't add lots of the normal introspective thoughts I usually do lol) You are getting the full on media meltdown in the next chapter.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The morning of their Silverstone hard launch, Lando was a bundle of nervous energy.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bouncing his knee, hands clasped together as he stared at the floor. Across the room, Lizzie was playing with Mara, completely unbothered.

“I just—” Lando ran a hand through his hair. “Last time I went public with a girlfriend, she got death threats.”

Lizzie turned, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Lando. Last time I killed off a fictional character, I got death threats.”

He blinked at her.

She sighed and moved to sit beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know you’re worried. And I get it. But we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” His voice was firm, but his fingers fidgeted against his knee. “I just don’t want you to have to deal with all the bullshit.”

Lizzie smiled, reaching down to still his hand with her own. “I have been on the receiving end of unhinged internet people for years. Trust me, I’ll be fine.”

He exhaled, leaning into her warmth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his fingers. “Besides, we have Mara. No one can hate me when I have an adorable dog.”

Lando laughed despite himself, finally relaxing. “That’s your master plan? Weaponizing Mara?”

“Absolutely.” Lizzie grinned. “If anyone tries to be mean, I’ll just post a picture of her looking sad. Instant sympathy.”

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the top of hers. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you too,” Lizzie hummed. “Which is why, I am not even putting a Ferrari Bandana on Mara.”

“Hahaha, you are so funny,” Lando snorted. 

“I got a surprise for you,” Lizzie said drily. She gave a soft command, and Mara obediently came over, sitting up proudly.

Lando blinked—and then his mouth actually fell open.

Mara was wearing a bandana that matched his Silverstone helmet design perfectly.

No detail had been missed—the same colors, the same patterns, even the subtle nods to the British flag. It was perfect.

Lizzie bit her lip, barely containing her excitement. "What do you think?"

Lando just stared. Then his gaze flicked from Mara to Lizzie, back to Mara, and finally back to Lizzie again. "Are you—? How—? When did you do this?!"

Lizzie beamed, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "I have my ways."

"You—" He ran a hand through his hair, completely speechless. "Max. It was Max, wasn’t it?"

She grinned wider. "Maybe."

Lando let out a stunned laugh, reaching out to gently adjust the bandana. "This is… sick." He looked up at her, eyes bright. "Like, actually so cool. You did this for me?"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Obviously. Thought you’d like a little pre-race good luck charm."

Lando didn’t even hesitate before leaning over and crashing a kiss against her lips, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw. It was warm, soft, and grateful. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and he was still grinning.

"I love you," he said, voice full of fondness.

Lizzie hummed, her fingers playing with the hem of his hoodie. "I know."

Lando let out a small huff of laughter before dropping another kiss to her nose. "I’m actually obsessed with you."

"And Mara," she teased.

"And Mara." Lando turned to the dog, who was watching them patiently. "You, Miss Mara, are my new favorite teammate. Sorry, Oscar."

Lizzie laughed. "She’s definitely cuter."

Lando took another long look at the bandana, then back at Lizzie, his heart swelling. "You’re the best, you know that?"

Lizzie smirked. "Oh, I absolutely do."

And as Lando sat there, still grinning like an idiot, with Mara happily wagging her tail beside him, he knew this—this little moment, this quiet, perfect start to the day—was something he’d hold onto forever.

“Alright,” Lando said, standing up and tugging her with him. “Let’s go hard launch this thing.”

And just like that, he was back to himself. Confident. Ready.

Lizzie smirked. “Now there’s the Lando Norris I know.”

***

F1 TV Commentary

Commentator 1: “And here comes Lando Norris, arriving for Qualifying Day at Silverstone—home race, big weekend for him. And—wait a second, who’s that with him?”

Commentator 2: “Yeah, that’s—well, obviously, Lando’s brought a dog… That’s a brown Labrador, very well-behaved, wearing a bandana, might I add.”

Commentator 3: “Is that dog’s bandana matching his racing helmet?! I think it may!”

(There’s a pause as they process what they’re seeing.)

Commentator 1: “Okay, so Lando’s got company. But who—hang on, is that—? I think—could that be—? Oh, wow, I think we’ve just had a hard launch.”

Commentator 2: “I think you’re right! That’s Lando, hand in hand with a very pretty young lady…no word yet of who that may be…”

Commentator 3: “And if the internet and McLaren is to be believed, that would be Elizabeth Treshton with him, New York Times Bestselling author, and that dog is her service dog…Though we have not yet had confirmation of the dogs name…” 

Commentator 1: “Either way, this is big—Lando and Elizabeth arriving together, matching outfits, dog in tow, looking very comfortable. This is as official as it gets.”

Commentator 3: “Well, the internet is definitely going to explode over this one. And I have to say, I’m very here for it. Lando Norris, best-selling author girlfriend, adorable Labrador—what’s not to love?”

Commentator 1: “And you just know McLaren social media is absolutely thriving off this right now.”

****

Lizzie had been to big events before—book signings, conventions, industry panels—but nothing quite prepared her for this.

Silverstone was a beast of its own.

The crowd was deafening, a mix of cheers, chants, and the unmistakable hum of engines in the distance. The paddock was alive with cameras, journalists, team members, and fans who barely spared her a glance—until they did.

Because she wasn’t just anyone here.

She was Lando Norris’ girlfriend.

Lizzie adjusted the lanyard around her neck, the VIP pass bouncing against her chest as they walked through the McLaren hospitality area. Her hand was firmly tucked in Lando’s, an unspoken reassurance between them. His grip tightened slightly every time someone called his name, every time cameras flashed.

She wasn’t nervous—okay, maybe a little—but more than anything, she was hyper-aware of everything happening around them. The weight of eyes, the murmurs, the way some people did a double take when they realized who she was.

"Lizzie."

She blinked up at Lando, who was watching her carefully, his usual easy grin softened into something more sincere. "You good?"

"Yeah," she said, then corrected, "Mostly yeah."

His thumb brushed over her knuckles. "You tell me if it gets too much, yeah?"

Lizzie nodded, exhaling slowly. "Yeah."

They moved further in, and before she could fully take in her surroundings, she heard a high-pitched squeal.

"Lizzie!"

She barely had time to react before Lily all but launched at her, hugging her like they were lifelong best friends instead of people who had met once.

"Hi?" Lizzie laughed, hugging her back.

Lily pulled away, still buzzing with excitement. "I still can't believe you're here. And with Lando." She shot him a teasing look. "I mean, we knew, but still. Wild."

Lando groaned. "Why does everyone act like me having a girlfriend is the most shocking thing in the world?"

Oscar, standing next to Lily, smirked. "Because it is."

"Wow. Betrayed by my own teammate."

Lizzie snorted, shaking her head as she adjusted the sleeve of her McLaren jacket. “You’ll survive,” she said amusedly, patting his arm. 

Lando looked at Lizzie. “Ready to meet the team?”

Lizzie exhaled, then nodded. “Ready.”

With that, they stepped inside, the sound of the paddock buzzing behind them.

And just like that, Lizzie Treshton was officially part of the F1 world.

***

Lizzie wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up here.

One moment, she and Lando had been in the McLaren garage, getting her settled in. The next, Lily had grabbed her arm, saying something about "Oh yeah, the WAGs wanna meet you,” and now she was in the pitlane, before the Ferrari Garage, standing in front of Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux.

And trying very hard not to embarrass herself.

Lando stood beside her, one hand casually resting on her waist, the other holding Mara’s leash as she sat at their feet, looking very professional in her bandana.

Charles, ever polite, offered a small smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Lizzie, who had definitely spent too many hours watching onboard footage of this man’s driving, managed a mostly composed, “Likewise.” Then she cleared her throat and gestured toward Mara, who sat obediently at her side. “Also—thank you. For the bandana. Mara loves it. We just thought she should match Lando for today.”

Charles smiled at her. “Oh you are welcome. It was very amusing when Carlos called me to ask for it. Lando will never hear the end of it.”

Lando just rolled his eyes at that. 

Charles, now looking amused, glanced between them. “You’re… surprisingly calm.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Should I not be?”

Charles chuckled. “Most people are a bit more… excitable when they meet me.”

Lizzie huffed a laugh. “Don’t get me wrong, internally, I’m screaming. But I have a dog to keep calm, and also, I do have some dignity.”

Alexandra snorted. “More than most.”

Lando, grinning, nudged her. “She’s lying. She definitely had a mini meltdown in the car this morning about meeting you.”

Lizzie gasped and smacked his arm. “You absolute traitor.”

Charles laughed. “I appreciate the honesty.”

Before Lizzie could respond, Alexandra grabbed her hands. “Okay, but actually—I need to say this before I combust—I love your books.”

Lizzie blinked. “You—you do?”

“Oh my god, yes.” Alexandra practically bounced on her feet. “Seasons of Fate is one of my favorite series of all time. I’ve read the first three books at least four times each.”

Lizzie stared. “No way.”

“Yes way.” Alexandra grinned. “I am absolutely dying for the last book. When you announced the release date, I screamed.”

Lizzie laughed, a little stunned. “That is… amazing. I had no idea you were a reader.”

“Are you kidding? I pre-ordered An Autumn of Fire and Stone the moment it was available.”

Charles, beside her, shook his head fondly. “She made me go with her to buy a physical copy too.”

Lando snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Lizzie beamed. “That’s genuinely so cool.”

Alexandra sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe I get to meet you in real life. This is the best day ever.”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “You literally see world champion drivers every week.”

“Yes, but she writes romantasy.”

Lizzie cackled. “Priorities.”

Alexandra nodded seriously. “Exactly.”

She had been quite proud of mostly holding it together…and not embarrassing herself…

And then Lewis Hamilton came strolling over. 

And all sense of composure left her body.

“Oh my god.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Lando, who had been standing beside her, immediately grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Lizzie turned, wide-eyed, to look at him. Betrayed. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“What, that Lewis was gonna be here?” He smirked. “I thought that would be obvious.”

“Lando.”

“Liz.”

But before she could argue further, Lewis spotted them. And then, to make matters worse, he walked straight over.

And smiled at her.

“Lizzie, right?” He extended a hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lizzie swore her soul left her body.

Because Lewis Hamilton—the seven-time world champion, the F1 legend, the man whose career she’d followed for years—knew her name.

Knew who she was.

Knew enough about her to have ‘heard things.’

Lizzie, in all her eloquence, blurted out: “I—yes. Me. That’s me.”

Lewis chuckled. Clearly entertained. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” she managed, shaking his hand. Then, because her brain was short-circuiting, she added, “Big fan. Like, huge fan. Had a poster of you in my uni dorm.”

Lando immediately started laughing.

Lizzie, horrified, whipped around. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, this is amazing,” Lando grinned. “You were so calm meeting Charles, and now you’re—”

“Not a word.”

Lewis, ever the gentleman, just smiled. “That’s really sweet. And hey, I’m honored.”

Lizzie, still recovering from the interaction, forced herself to get it together. “Right. Yes. Anyway. This is Mara.”

At her name, Mara—who had been sitting patiently at her feet—perked up.

Lewis immediately crouched down, beaming. “And who’s this gorgeous girl?”

Mara, as if knowing exactly how famous the man in front of her was, wagged her tail enthusiastically.

“That’s Mara, my service dog,” Lizzie said, finally finding her footing again. “She’s a big fan of Roscoe.”

At that, Lewis lit up. “Oh, we should set up a playdate!”

Lizzie blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Of course.” Lewis nodded. “Roscoe loves meeting new friends. And they’d be adorable together.”

Lizzie, genuinely stunned, turned to Lando. “Did I just get invited to a playdate with Roscoe Hamilton?”

Lando smirked. “I believe you did.”

“Oh my god.” She looked back at Lewis. “Yes. A thousand times yes.”

Before Lizzie could spiral further, Charles, who had been watching this unfold, added:

“If we’re doing a playdate, then Leo should come too.”

Lizzie whipped around to face him. “Wait—really?”

Charles shrugged. “Why not? He loves meeting new dogs.”

Lizzie turned to Lando, shaking him. “Lando. My dog is about to have a playdate with Roscoe Hamilton and Leo Leclerc.”

Lando, grinning, kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome.”

Lewis, amused, looked at Charles. “You ready for this?”

Charles sighed. “Leo is going to be so excited.”

Lizzie, still reeling, grinned. “Mara is going to have the best day of her life.”

And honestly? So was she.

****

Lizzie had so many questions about how her life had led to this exact moment.

Her dog was currently having a dog playdate with Leo and Roscoe behind the McLaren Motorhome.

"Explain to me again how we got here?" Lizzie muttered as she watched Leo immediately claim the room like he owned it, golden tail wagging furiously.

"Just go with it," Lando said, wrapping an arm around her waist. Lizzie sighed. "Right."

Roscoe, ever the gentleman, plodded his way over to Mara, who sat neatly at Lizzie’s feet, ears flicking in uncertainty.

"She’s pretending she’s above this," Lizzie whispered, watching as Mara gave Roscoe a long, assessing stare.

"Mara is above everything," Lando muttered back.

Charles, meanwhile, was grinning as he knelt to ruffle Leo’s ears. "See? This is perfect! Now we can finally see if Mara is truly Ferrari at heart."

Lando groaned. "You have to stop saying things like that. The grid will run with it."

"It is not my fault that your dog has an excellent name," Charles said smugly.

Before Lizzie could protest, Leo—who had decided that he had found a new best friend—threw himself down beside Mara, excitedly yapping.

Mara, after what could only be described as a long, suffering sigh, simply accepted her fate.

Lewis chuckled. "See? It was meant to be."

Lando shook his head, watching as Roscoe settled down on Mara’s other side, effectively trapping her between two dogs, one of which one was a hyperactive dachshund. 

"So," Lewis smirked, crossing his arms, "when’s the next playdate?"

Lando groaned, Charles grinned, and Lizzie knew she was never going to live this down.

***

F1 TV Commentary – Silverstone Grand Prix (Race Day) 

Commentator 1: chuckling "Now, here’s something you don’t see every day—Ferrari hospitality is absolutely buzzing, and it’s not just because of their crowd support here at Silverstone!"

Commentator 2: laughing "Oh, absolutely. If we didn’t know better, we’d think Ferrari was hosting a VIP event of its own. I mean, look at that lineup…I think we got partners from drivers from Ferrari, Alpine, Mercedes, Williams and McLaren…—Alexandra Saint Mleu, Kika Gomes, Carmen Montero Mundt, Lily Muni He, Rebecca Donaldons, Lily Zneimer... And there, right in the middle of it all, Elizabeth Treshton."

Commentator 1: "Yes, and that’s particularly interesting because this is Elizabeth’s  very first Grand Prix as Lando Norris’ officially confirmed girlfriend. What a way to make a debut in the paddock!"

Commentator 2: grinning "And I have to say, she looks right at home. From what we know, Elizabeth is a lifelong F1 fan, and—controversially—she grew up supporting Ferrari! So, maybe she was always meant to be in their hospitality suite."

Commentator 1: "A childhood Ferrari fan dating McLaren’s golden boy—talk about a plot twist! But speaking of plot twists, Elizabeth’s not just any new WAG. She’s a bestselling fantasy author, her books are international hits, and one of them is about to be made into a movie. That’s a whole different kind of fame to bring into the F1 world!"

Commentator 2: "Absolutely! I mean, we talk about drivers balancing life in the public eye, but Elizabeth is already a major public figure in her own right. She has millions of readers, and from what I’ve seen online, her fans are just as obsessed with Lando as F1 fans are with her. It’s created this crossover event that I don’t think anyone saw coming!"

Commentator 1: laughing "And speaking of things no one saw coming—let’s talk about Mara."

Commentator 2: "Oh, we have to! For those who don’t know, Mara is Lizzie’s service dog, and she is currently stealing the show."

Commentator 1: "Not only is Mara sitting in Ferrari hospitality like she belongs there, but she’s also wearing a bandana that perfectly matches Lando’s special edition Silverstone helmet. Now that is commitment to the aesthetic!"

Commentator 2: laughing "I mean, Elizabeth Treshton is a writer. She clearly loves a well-executed theme. And honestly? Mara looks fantastic. I’m seeing more photos of that dog on social media than some of the drivers!"

Commentator 1: "As she should! I think it’s safe to say that between the Ferrari hospitality takeover, the bestselling author debut, and Mara becoming a fan favorite, Elizabeth Treshton has officially arrived in the F1 paddock."

Commentator 2: "And if Lando puts in a strong performance today? I have a feeling that Ferrari hospitality is going to be just as loud as the McLaren garage!"

***

Lizzie had to admit—she’d been nervous about spending the day in Ferrari hospitality.

Lando had his own obligations, and while Lily and Alexandra had already been so welcoming, she was still the newbie in the world of F1 WAGs.

But, as it turned out, Ferrari hospitality might as well have been a VIP social club for girlfriends and wives, and by midday, Lizzie was right at home.

She was currently sitting on a plush red couch with Kika, Rebecca, and Carmen, Mara curled up at her feet.

“So, first race weekend,” Kika said, giving her an amused look. “Overwhelmed yet?”

“Not as much as I expected to be,” Lizzie admitted, adjusting Mara’s bandana. “Though the garage yesterday was a lot.”

“You’re handling it well,” Carmen said warmly. “Some of us had a learning curve.”

Rebecca nodded in agreement. “Carlos tried explaining tire strategy to me the first weekend I came, and I made him stop after five minutes.”

Kika laughed. “I still don’t get half of it. I just nod and pretend I do.”

“Oh, same,” Lily said. “Oscar started talking about tire degradation once, and I was like, ‘That sounds like a youproblem.’”

Carmen snorted. “That’s the only correct response.”

Lizzie felt herself relax. This was… nice. She had spent so long on the outside of the sport, hearing about it through Lando, seeing snippets online—but this was different.

This was her being part of it.

“Also,” Kika said, giving her a knowing look, “I feel like we’ve been terrible hosts because we haven’t properly talked about the fact that you’re a bestselling author.”

Lizzie winced. “Oh, god.”

“No, no,” Rebecca said, grinning. “We have questions. So many questions.”

“Oh god,” Lizzie repeated.

“First of all,” Kika said, dramatically, “how dare you end An Autumn of Fire and Stone on a cliffhanger like that?”

Carmen, who had apparently also read it, groaned. “Yes! I need answers!”

Lizzie blinked. “Wait—you guys actually read my books?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Rebecca said. “We have a whole Season of Fate group chat.”

Lizzie stared. “I’m sorry—what?”

Carmen pulled out her phone. Showed her.

Sure enough—there was a group chat titled ‘Season of Fate Fangirls’ featuring all the WAGs.

“Oh my god,” Lizzie whispered.

“Lily Z. started it,” Kika said casually. “She’s obsessed.”

Lizzie turned to Carmen. “You guys have a group chat about my books?”

“Oh, yeah,” Carmen said, grinning. “We were losing our minds when you announced Book 4.”

Lizzie covered her face. “I don’t know whether to be honored or terrified.”

Kika laughed. “Both. Definitely both.”

Lizzie, feeling overwhelmed but in the best way, peeked out from behind her hands. “I—okay. I’m processing this.”

Rebecca patted her knee. “Take your time. But also—when are we getting the first movie trailer?”

Lizzie groaned. “You’re as bad as my readers.”

“We are your readers,” Kika pointed out.

Lizzie sighed. “I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

Carmen smirked. “Yep.”

Lizzie shook her head. But despite the teasing, despite the fact that she was being interrogated about the release date of a movie she legally wasn’t allowed to talk about yet—she felt… good.

Maybe, just maybe, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

[moonstruckme]

pls hear me out 🙏🙏 vampire!james is recently turned and doesn’t feed cause he’s such a sweetheart he doesn’t want to hurt anyone.

reader notices how weak he is and finds out he hasn’t been feeding and basically offers herself to him and it’s just really comforting and cute

Babe I hear you !!! I hear you soooooo clear (the voices omg, I was so excited to write this). Thank you for requesting!

cw: blood mention

vampire!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

James never had a problem with eating animals before he became a vampire. You pointed this out to him, once, but he only said it’s different. You suppose it is. The chicken nuggets he used to devour came to him cooked, fried, and with sauces, utterly unrecognizable from what they’d once been. There’s no separating the live-ness from what James has to eat now. 

You spy on him over the top of your book. He’s sitting on the other end of the loveseat with your feet in his lap, massaging your arches through your thick socks while he watches a football match on the telly. His dusky skin paled after he was turned a few weeks back, but he looks even paler than that now. If he were still human you’d think he was anemic. It’s four in the afternoon, and your ball-of-energy boyfriend looks as tired as if he’s ready for bed. 

“Jamie,” you say, and he squeezes your heel to indicate he’s listening, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, lovely, yeah.” 

“Have you been feeding?” 

James stiffens at the term. “Mm, why do you ask?” 

It’s as close as he thinks he can get to a non-answer, and it’s an answer for you anyways. James can never stand to lie to you. It’s terribly endearing. 

You turn your foot to poke his abdomen. “I can hear your stomach growling.” 

His lips curve. He glances at you. “I’m not sure that’s how it works.” 

“Really? How does it work?” 

“I don’t actually have a clue.” James smiles, which was your aim. He’s been far too downcast for your liking, his new condition entirely to blame. 

“Well, you’re looking pale.” 

“I’ve been pale.” 

“Paler than pale.” You set your book on the side table, moving closer to him. You sit with your feet folded under you. “Also, you haven’t been going out to feed like you used to.” 

James finally looks a bit sheepish. You smile and cup his face in your hand. Though he knows you know, James has still been a tad secretive about the vampire business around you. He sneaks out after he thinks you’re asleep. You’ll hear the front door open and shut when he leaves and then again when he comes back, the kitchen tap running as he cleans himself up. You wish he’d just use the shower. You don’t mind him walking through your bedroom with blood and dirt on him if it means he gets to feel clean when he slips back into bed with you. 

You rub your thumb over his cheek. “What’s keeping you?” 

He sighs. His face weighs a bit heavier in your palm. You think this must be progress, and you repeat your ministrations to his cheek to encourage it. 

“Everything’s hibernating,” says James, a quiet shame underlying his tone. “The…things I used to feed from are gone, and I’m not left with a lot of choices.” 

You hum. “Well, you’ve gotta eat, Jamie.” 

He hesitates, and you give him your sternest look. 

“You do. What about the deer?” 

“They’re harder to catch. And…I…I just feel bad, you know?”

You nod. Take his hand and press a kiss to his palm. Your poor sweetheart. You know James hasn’t killed anything he’s fed from, but even scaring them and potentially hurting them for the time it takes him to feed rattles him terribly. He’s too good, good and kind down to his core, but you know he’s going to have to find some way to cope other than starving himself. 

“What about people?” 

James’ eyes round behind his glasses. “Wha—no, I—”

“I wouldn’t mind you using me.” 

He seems to falter for a moment. His thick brows draw together in stages, from disbelief to confusion and back again. “Angel,” he says, “I couldn’t do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because, it’s—it would be—” 

“Or maybe we could try someone else. Someone bad, like a corrupt politician or one of those people who siphons money away from charities.” 

“No.” 

“Then we’re back to me.” You smile at him, one part teasing and two parts genuine. “James, I want to. I don’t like seeing you like this, and I really don’t think I’d mind it.” 

James looks like he’s still having trouble processing. “You don’t think you’d mind?” 

“I don’t,” you repeat patiently. “I’m sort of curious, actually. It could be fun.” 

He looks, to your surprise, like he might actually be considering it. He’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know if it’d be fun, angel.” 

“That’s okay,” you promise him. “I want to do it for you. You’re hungry, yeah?” You try to make your voice serene and persuasive, your hand coasting up and down his arm. “Let me help.” 

James looks you in your eyes. You hold his gaze. After a while, the fight seems to go out of him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. 

“Oh, baby.” You kiss him on his cheek, your heart bulging. “You won’t. It’ll be fine. How do you want me? Hair up?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s good the way it is. I think, um, it might be easier if you were in my lap.” 

“Okay.” You grin, lifting your thigh over his so you’re straddling him. His hands settle on your hips. “Are you romancing me? Is this part of it?” 

James lifts the corners of his mouth, but you can see the trepidation lingering beneath his smile. You do your best to soothe it away with your hands on his shoulders. 

“I want to be gentle with you,” he says.

“I bet you say that to all your victims.” 

“Sweetheart…”

“Sorry, sorry.” You’re nervous. You kiss his nose in apology. 

“If I hurt you—if you don’t like it for any reason, I want you to squeeze my shoulder. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod, trying to look certain. “Does it usually hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” James admits. “With animals, they don’t usually…move much after I’ve bitten them. I’m not sure if it stuns them or what.” 

“I’ll report back,” you say seriously. You glance down at the couch cushions. “Will it be messy? Should we go to the bathroom or something?” 

“No, I’m—I’ve gotten better at it. We should be fine here.” 

You smile at him, your pride genuine. “Sounds good.” 

James is starting to look worried again, so you kiss him. On the lips, as sweet as you can muster, and imagine all your love pouring through it. Then, you pull your hair to one side and bear your neck. 

His pupils splay out.

“Remember to squeeze my shoulder.” He sounds hoarse. One of his hands slips up your back to steady you beneath your shoulder blades. 

“I will,” you vow. 

James looks dazed, almost reverent. He wets his lips, and when he opens his mouth you see his tongue skim over pointed teeth. Some prey animal’s instinct sends a shiver of fear through you. Your blood hums with anticipation. But just before James’ teeth skim your neck, he pauses. 

“Jamie.” It’s soft, a murmur, a plea. “It’s okay. Do whatever you want with me.” 

He makes a quiet sound, like a sigh or a whine, and closes the gap. 

At first, it’s only like he’s kissing you. He’s exceedingly sweet about it, lips opening warmly over your skin, his tongue pressing over your artery as though testing the waters. He splays his palm wide over your back in silent warning before his teeth sink into you. 

There’s a sting, but you were ready for it. You keep yourself from wincing, from doing anything that would make James move away, and after a second the pain dulls. Everything does, except for the extraordinary feel of James’ mouth on you. 

“Oh.” Your mouth opens of its own accord, head lolling further to the side to give him better access. You want more, more of this, more of him. Your brain fuzzes and your heart pounds, every nerve in your body narrowing its focus to where James is sucking at your neck, lapping you up. 

You wind your arms around his neck, wanting to be closer to him, and his palm coasts up your back comfortingly. You feel molten, spectacularly, transcendently languid, like you could press your fingertips to his shoulders and they’d melt right in. You don’t, not wanting him to misinterpret it as your signal and stop, but after a while James’ arms are the only thing keeping you from tipping sideways onto the couch, and he stops anyway. 

He finishes with a few chaste kisses, and you think giddily that you weren’t too far off about the romancing. 

“Y’okay, lovie?” he mumbles into your skin. 

You hum in reply. 

James presses one more sweet kiss to your neck, almost a thank-you. He seals the wound with his tongue. A giggle bubbles out of you, one shoulder coming up to ward him off. 

“Sorry,” you say to James’ surprised look. Your head is starting to clear. “That part tickled.” 

His grin splits his face, one part tentative and two parts relieved. “Yeah? Are you really okay?” 

“Super okay,” you promise him. You can’t help grinning. “You were right, it didn’t hurt. That was nice.”

James’ expression eases, some mix of relief and interest in his gaze. “Was it actually?” 

“Mhm. I would be your blood donor any time, really.” 

James scoffs, but he’s clearly elated. He strokes from your hip to your ribs with a big hand, trailing tender kisses up to your cheek. You’re thrilled to see how much more energy he already has. 

“I don’t know about that,” he says in between kisses. “I’d still rather not make you my victim if I can help it.” 

“I didn’t feel like a victim, if that helps.” Your words go mushy as he reaches your lips, but you keep talking, wanting to make your point. “I just mean, I wouldn’t mind doing it again. Maybe when you’re lacking in other options.” 

“Mm, maybe. What was it like?” 

“Like a really good kiss.” 

James backs up from you to give you a dubious look. “Better than the ones I give you normally?” 

You grin. “Maybe a little.” 

His eyebrows shoot up and his mouth drops open, curving on one side. “Oh, yeah? Bold claims.” 

“I don’t know if you can compete with whatever vampire magic that was, Jamie.”

“My kisses are very magical. It seems like I may have to remind you how good they really are, though.” 

You shrug coyly. “If you think you can top that, you’re welcome to try. I mean, you’re really only competing with your—”

James is on you before you can finish.

[acosmicbee]

Hiii, um so I've definitely gone down the rabbit hole of platonic yanderes and just love em, and I had this idea I just wanted to drop and lowkey ramble about.

So like, what about a platonic yandere that is actually, biologically family. Maybe he's an uncle or and older distant cousin that you don't really seem much, and you think borderline hates you. Maybe they tease you a lot, and "joke" about you being a baby, and you think its like their way of making fun of you maybe cause you like more childish stuff like watching cartoons or having stuffed animals, or whatever.

But! What you don't know is that they are actually being genuine, and while they tease, their just tryna get close with you and so get confused when you get grumpy and push them away :(

And maybe you domt have the greatest relationship with your parents, and they see this, and think about how they aren't appreciating you as much as you deserve, that they don't deserve you. And the something happens and they kinda snap and take matters into their own hands cause they know they can give you a much better life

And yeah that was just my ramble, I don't really do these sorta things a lot, so sorry in general? Don't even know what I'm apologizing for :p But please continue to write stuff cause they seriously boost my mood every time I read!

Baby of the Family

(Thanks for the ideas! I don't mind the rambling at all and I hope you enjoy my take on your suggestion!)

Family gatherings had always made you feel uncomfortable. At every single one there was this tense energy. You'd picked up on it since you were a young child, picked up on the whispers and the awkward small talk between relatives.

You'd also felt like the energy was centered around you. Like everyone knew something you didn't and they weren't planning to tell you. Oftentimes you were left to play by yourself, as the only child. Your mom's two sisters had kids, but they were all grown up and 'too cool' to play with their baby cousin.

Then there was your dad's brother, your Uncle. No one really talked to him. He would sit on the edge, silently observing with a drink in his hand. A lot of times he'd be watching you, staring as you silently played with your toys or read a book.

The few times he'd actually joined you in playing were okay, but ended quickly. Your dad was always fast to come between the two of you, dragging you off to do something unrelated to him. You felt a little bad, like maybe he was being let out of the communal secret too.

He had cool piercings, and you'd caught a glimpse of tattoos beneath the crisp dress shirts he always wore. He was never aggressive, never loud, just a silent presence that was always there. Despite that your parents made it very clear they didn't want you alone around him without actually giving you a reason.

You never really listened to them. You'd sit near him sometimes, just far enough that your parents wouldn't force you to move away. It was nice having someone to feel like an outsider with.

Everything seemed to change when your mom got pregnant. In some ways the awkwardness got better, but it also got worse. The tension eased as your family gushed over your mother, but you still felt left out. Your family had never been so loving with you, never treated you like that.

That was when your uncle began to actually talk to you. He'd smile at you, teasing as he murmured about how you were still the baby of the family. He'd pull your knife away when it was time to eat, a certain glint in his eye as he cut your food for you.

The longer your parents went without interfering the more bold he got. You weren't sure how to entirely feel about him. For one, he was an outsider, like you. You liked his piercings and his style, even if your father muttered about how he was just a delinquent playing dress up.

But he also treated you like a baby. He'd smear sunscreen on your face when your parents forgot to, smirking when he told you that you looked like a ghost. He'd have this look of pride when you did normal kid things, this air of superiority when you'd go to him because no one else would pay attention.

Sometimes your dad would pull you to the side, but he'd hardly start on his lecture about staying away before your mom was calling him for something. One of those times your uncle had placed a hand on your shoulder, tension mounting as he made eye contact with your dad.

"Run along now like a good husband. After all, thats what your entire thing was, wasn't it?" He asked, a certain darkness and bitterness creeping into his voice. "There's nothing wrong with me spending some time with the baby of the family, is there? Especially since everyone else seems so preoccupied."

"Don't touch them like they're yours. They're my child. Mine." Your dad snapped, grabbing your hand and dragging you away. You were the only one who caught the dark glint in your Uncle's eyes as he watched you be forced into a seat across the room from him.

You were the only one who saw how his hands clenched into fists and his eyes narrowed as he turned sharply on his heel and left. You didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

Things were only getting worse at home. It seemed as your mother's pregnancy progressed she changed towards you, becoming cold and unloving. This was more than just a distance between you, it was the Grand Canyon.

Your father wasn't much better, waiting on her hand and foot and following her lead. When she asked him to make you leave, he'd tell you to go to your room and stay there. When she asked him to take down the few pictures of you around the house he did.

You hated the baby, hated how it was getting all the love while you got none. Then your father would lecture you about not being excited for your baby sibling, about how it was time for you to grow up and learn to share. You hated it all.

Then came the fight. You had just come out of your room to get a snack only to be met by your irate mother. She was already mad about something, but seeing you just seemed to set her off even more.

"Why do you have to look so much like him?! I want you gone! I want you out of my sight, out of my house, out of my life!" She yelled. "Get out!"

You ran when you saw her reach to grab something. You didn't stop when you heard it crash to the floor somewhere behind you as she screamed, bolting out the front door. You were in your pajamas, no socks or shoes or jacket.

You were so angry, so hurt you didn't wait outside the apartment for her to calm down. Instead you left. You walked out of the building, determined to not go back until you'd be loved the same as the stupid baby.

You walked down the street, ignoring as pebbles cut into your feet. It was quiet out, hardly anyone on the street despite it being late morning. You just walked aimlessly, being careful when crossing streets as you walked away from home.

By the time your legs started to hurt you'd walked a fair distance away. You looked into the windows of buildings you passed, watching people working in one, a cafe in the next. Eventually you saw a gym, watching as people lifted giant weights.

You glanced over at the treadmills in time to watch as your uncle noticed you peeking in and almost fell off the one he was using. In an instant he was outside, scooping you up into his arms as he looked around.

"Y/N? Why are you all alone? Where are your shoes?!" He asked, looking you over as he carried you back into the gym. The lady at the front desk barely spared him a glance as he swiped back in, quickly grabbing his stuff from the treadmill he'd been using.

"Mom told me to get out. So I got out." You said bitterly. His eyes darkened as a low growl was heard. He set you down outside the locker room for a second before coming back with a bag and a hoodie he procceded to throw at you.

The second you'd put it on, looking unimpressed at how much it dwarfed you, he picked you up again. "You aren't going back there. I've reached my limit. I've wanted to fight for you from day one, but they tried to tell me that I would be a danger to you. But now? I'm not taking no for an answer."

You were quickly carried to a sleek black car, placed into the back. He didn't move you when you pouted, even if the darkness seemed to leave his face. "You are way too tiny to be in the passenger seat. Just a little baby, remember?"

He carelessly tossed his phone onto the passenger seat when it started to buzz as he drove. Instead, he turned on the radio, some loud rock music blasting from the speakers which he quickly turned down. Along the way he stopped at some restaurant to grab you some food before driving you home.

His apartment was nice. He had two big dogs he'd put in his bedroom as to not overwhelm you as you finished eating. He listened to you complaining the whole time you sulkily finished your chicken nuggets about how much you hated your family and the baby.

"You may be little more than a baby yourself, but I'm sure even you've picked up on how everything isn't as it seems in this family. They have secrets they don't want to tell, but I'm tired of waiting." He said, disappearing into a room.

He came back with a picture frame of a boy. A boy who looked kind of like you, except well into his teenage years at the time of the picture. "Y/N, Kyle... your father... isn't actually your father." He eventually said, setting the picture down.

A chicken nugget slipped through your fingers as your mind reeled. Then again, it made sense to you. Your father's hair was way lighter than yours, despite claiming that you had gotten your hair from him. A bunch of other small things that had never seemed important before now reminded you of their presence as you sat there shellshocked for a second.

"When I was 18, I met a woman. Your mom. We were dating for a couple of years. I was having some problems with being possessive and overly controlling at the time and was seeing a psychiatrist and therapist for it." He began, sitting down across from you as he swiped a nugget.

"When I discovered she'd been sleeping with my brother, I was pissed. Even more so when I realized she was pregnant. I beat Kyle so badly, not that he didn't deserve it. But, it meant that I was essentially kicked out of the family until after you were born." He sounded bitter, kind of like how you had sounded bitter complaining about your family just a little ago.

"They thought you'd be their kid. You aren't though." He said, a small smirk crossing his face as he tapped on the picture of the teenager. "See this? That's me when I was 16. We look so similar, don't we? They did a DNA test shortly after you were born proving that I was your biological father."

"If you're my real dad... why was I with them?" You asked quietly, staring down at your nuggets as your world both fell apart and suddenly made so much more sense.

"They used my mental issues against me. Convinced me I wasn't safe enough to be a parent." He sighed, a dark look overtaking his face. "But now? Now, I don't even care anymore. You're staying here, with me and there's nothing anyone can do about it."

You considered it before shrugging, stuffing a nugget in your mouth. "Okay. But I want chicken nuggets and ice cream every day. And I want to be able to decorate my room. And I want to pet your dogs."

He blinked for a second before a grin crept across his face. "I think we can make that work. Finish your food and I'll introduce you to Brownie and Rocky."

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

"Where are they?!" Milo was standing in the doorway to his apartment, arms crossed and eyes narrowed as he stared down his younger brother.

You had long since fallen asleep on his couch, watching some animated princess movie or something. Last he saw you were using one of his dogs as a pillow, the other lying on top of your legs like a living blanket.

"They're safe." He said, refusing to move when Kyle tried to look past him into his apartment. "I found them over twenty blocks away from your place. Twenty. They crossed all those streets by themselves, barefoot and in pajamas."

"Look, she made a mistake-!"

"Kicking out your 7 year old isn't a mistake. I'm not letting you convince me out of caring for my kid again, not after how you've treated them. They're mine, Kyle. Do I need to beat that through your thick skull or will you back off?" He asked, voice dropping as he stepped forward, a dangerous grin crossing his face when his younger brother stepped back.

"You're just as much of a psycho as you were back then! You could never be a good parent to them you possessive freak!"

"Go play happy family with your horrible wife you cheating bastard. Don't you ever darken my doorway again with your 'i'm a better person than you' spiel. Next time, I'm swinging before I hear you out." He growled, watching as Kyle practically ran off down the hallway to avoid his anger.

Inside his apartment you were still asleep, a very tolerant german shepherd laying there as you drooled on him as the move played on in the background. Milo quietly approached you, watching as you slept.

He would be the father you needed, the one he'd been dissuaded out of being. It didn't matter if he was a little possessive or overprotective, as long as the two of you built a good relationship everything would be fine in the end.

"Welcome home, baby. Dad's got you now."

[freaksun]

eddie doesnt let anyone touch his hair. ever.

it reminds him of his late mother, who had the same gorgeous untamed curls. She used to comb his hair when he was little, being ever so gentle and taking her time brushing out the knots.

his father made him feel less-than for just about everything about him, including his gorgeous mane. Called him awful names and always told him to ‘cut that fairy shit’ when it grew too long.

so, ever since she passed, and his father went to jail, hes been growing it.

unfortunately, she never taught him how to take care of it, she’d always just do it herself. So, he doesnt put product in it, he doesnt cut it, he doesnt even brush it. And, stubborn as his mama, he doesnt let anyone else touch it either.

then you come along, happy and sweet, always loving to everyone. he falls in love with you so fast he hardly even notices. you certainly dont either.

one hot summer day you’re both in his room, you on his bed, him pacing, frantically explaining some sort of nerdy campaign idea. you dont know, you havent been listening for a while, too distracted by the way he keeps wiping sweat from the back of his neck. you cut him off rudely, he doesnt mind

“hey eddie?”

“sweetheart?”

“whens the last time you got a haircut?”

he freezes, silent, which is very out of character, dude never shuts up.

“uhh. like a few years ago. why?”

its your turn to be quiet, suddenly all coy. he finds you absolutely adorable as you stare at his floor, trying to find a way to ask him without startling him. as if he were some wild animal, which, he basically is.

“just.. immm noticinggg its kinda matted in the back…”

you try to sound the least accusing as you can. he doesnt seem offended but you can tell hes thinking.

“well, yeah, i. i guess i just havent touched it since. well my mom used to do it for me”

you feel like an ass, touching on something you shouldnt have, making him all quiet and sad. you backtrack.

“jesus, eddie, im sorry i didnt mean to-“

“its okay angel, i know”

he sits next to you. you give him a nervous smile, still sweet, hesitantly reaching for his curls. you can tell he’s hesitant too, but he nods, granting you permission. you take a single strand between your fingers, twirling it.

“Its so pretty, eds. ..would you let me? take care of it, i mean?”

hes scared. but youre so sweet and youre asking so nicely. a part of him is scared if he lets you, he loses another part of his mom. but the other part is staring into your eyes and seeing nothing but genuine affection.

“i.. i guess you could.. try.”

his heart pounds in his chest. You absolutely beam, thanking him immediately and bouncing around the room, looking for a brush. he laughs, shaking his head. you watch as he rummages through his closet, before handing you a light pink brush. you think about teasing him for it but he already looks vulnerable. you smile sweetly instead, taking it from him.

“sit” you point with the brush. he does as you say, running his hands up and down his thighs in a self soothing motion.

“its okay eds, you dont have to be nervous.. ill be gentle i promise” he gives you an unconvincing smile. you return with a guilty one, downturned. you kneel in front of him, in between his knees, brushing his bangs with your fingers.

“we can stop whenever you want, okay?” his cheeks are bright red as he nods timidly

you move to sit behind him, and run your hands through his curls gently, admiring it. you take a part, hold it at the root, and brush gently.

“that feel okay? tell me if it hurts” ever so sweet.

“mm-hm” you can feel his nervousness. “you- you remind me of her, y’know”

youre pretty taken aback, but honoured nonetheless. you keep brushing through the mattes in his hair as you talk.

“Yeah? Wanna tell be about her?” youre not sure if its the right thing to say, but you figure he probably hasnt talked about her in a long time. you can practically feel his energy shift.

“she was sweet. loving and kind to everyone, like you.” you both smile. “and she was pretty. beautiful. i really miss her.” you stop, rub his back a little.

“i can only imagine.. im sorry eddie.” he turns to face you, smiling.

“s’alright sweetheart. thanks for letting me talk about her” he hugs you. you hug him back, tight.

“hows the ole hair going?” He asks when he pulls back, a joking tone to lighten the mood.

“good!!! ive gotten the mattes outta this chunk here, it looks good. your hair is really beautiful, eds” youre ecstatic and it travels to him.

“thank you. my mom had the same hair.” he smiles, turning back around to let you continue.

“i bet she was really gorgeous.” youre extra-extra gentle. He keeps talking and you keep working. He tells you about how she smelled, the softness of her voice, his favourite memories with her. he tells you about the last time he saw her. he tells you all the things hes been holding inside, everything he never got to tell anyone, never trusted anyone enough. and when hes done, his hair is untangled and soft.

you smile proudly, running your hands through his hair, marveling at your work.

“its done” he whips around, looking at you with wide excited eyes

“really??” you nod, smiling wide. he runs over to the bathroom to see for himself. You stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder in the mirror. Hes surprised, looks like he might even cry. you wrap your arms around him, leaning your head against his arm.

“do you like it? Its a little poofy, but you can wash it out and it’ll look be-“ he cuts you off by turning around and hugging you. he hugs you tight, lifting you up.

“thank you.” you can tell he really means it.

[not-magdi]

-it has always been you / lando Norris

Warnings: Alkohol, some weird dude

Words: 1.5k

Reading Time: 6min 25sec

A/N

Some cute friends to lovers trope cause I‘m bored :)

Hope you love it !

Y/N and Lando had been inseparable for years. Their friendship had started in the most unexpected way—a fateful encounter at a karting event when they were kids.

Y/N’s brother had been racing that day, and she had found herself sitting alone on a cold metal bench, watching the drivers zip around the track. Lando, always full of energy and curiosity, had plopped down beside her, still in his racing suit and smelling faintly of rubber and fuel.

“You look bored,” he had said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m not,” she had replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Yes, you are,” he had insisted, before launching into an animated explanation of how he was going to win the championship one day. That was the start of it all.

Over the years, they had become best friends, sharing everything from late-night texts about random thoughts to spontaneous road trips when life felt too heavy. Y/N was one of the few people who truly understood Lando’s hectic lifestyle, and in turn, Lando was her anchor in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming.

But while their friendship had always been easy and natural, Y/N had been harbouring feelings for Lando for quite some time. She’d never acted on them, fearing it would ruin the bond they had. And she was convinced Lando didn’t feel the same way. Why would he? He was charming, successful, and adored by fans worldwide.

-----

Tonight, their friends Max and Pietra had insisted on a night out. Y/N had initially resisted, claiming she was too tired, but Pietra wasn’t having it.

“Come on, Y/N,” Pietra had said, practically dragging her off the couch.

“You never go out anymore. You need this. Besides, we can all use a little fun.”

“Don’t worry,” Lando had chimed in with his usual playful smirk. “I’ll make sure you don’t embarrass yourself too much.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Y/N had shot back, rolling her eyes but secretly glad he was coming.

-----

The club was alive with energy, a pulsating mix of lights and music that seemed to electrify the room. Y/N followed Max, Pietra, and Lando through the crowd, her senses overwhelmed in the best possible way. The air was heavy with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and the faint metallic tang of sweat, but it was all part of the atmosphere.

Max was the first to hit the dance floor, his exuberance unmatched as he flailed his arms in exaggerated, dramatic moves. “This is my signature!” he shouted over the music, spinning in a circle.

Y/N burst into laughter, holding onto Pietra for balance as the latter tried to mimic his wild movements. “Max, you look ridiculous!” she called out, but her voice was nearly drowned out by the pounding bass.

“That’s the point!” he yelled back, sticking his tongue out before attempting a failed moonwalk.

Lando lingered close to Y/N, his usual cheeky grin plastered on his face. “Remind me to never let him dance at my wedding,” he joked, leaning in so she could hear him better.

“You say that like you’re not just as bad,” Y/N quipped, shooting him a playful glance.

“Excuse me,” Lando replied, feigning offence. “I have moved. You’re just not ready for them.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” she teased, her smile wide.

Lando nudged her shoulder with his, chuckling. “We’ll see about that.”

They found a spot near the edge of the dance floor, where Lando casually leaned against the wall, his eyes occasionally scanning the room. But his gaze always seemed to find its way back to Y/N. She was laughing more than usual, her face glowing in the neon light. He couldn’t help but admire how the stress of her week seemed to melt away.

“You having fun yet?” he asked, leaning down so his lips were close to her ear.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes bright. “Actually, yeah,” she admitted, her shoulders relaxing as the rhythm of the music washed over her.

Pietra returned moments later, handing Y/N a cocktail in a glass rimmed with sugar. “Here, try this. It’s amazing,” she said, her excitement evident.

Y/N took a tentative sip, her lips puckering slightly at the sweetness. “Wow, that’s good.”

“See? Told you!” Pietra beamed before disappearing back into the crowd with Max.

Y/N took another sip, then another. The drink was deceptively light, the alcohol masked by the sugary flavour. Before long, Pietra was back with another, and Y/N—caught up in the excitement—didn’t hesitate to take it.

By the time she was halfway through her third drink, the room felt warmer, the lights brighter, and her laughter came easier. Everything seemed a little funnier, a little lighter as if the weight she had been carrying all week had finally lifted.

“Easy there,” Lando said when she stumbled slightly, catching her by the arm before she could lose her balance. His grip was steady, grounding.

Y/N looked up at him, her giggles bubbling over. “What? I’m fine!” she insisted, though her unsteady footing said otherwise.

“You’re having a little too much fun,” he teased, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“Isn’t that the point of tonight?” she shot back, her words slurring slightly.

Lando chuckled, his hand lingering on her arm as he guided her back to a less crowded spot. “Alright, I’ll give you that. But maybe slow down a bit?”

“Party pooper,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out at him.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress his grin. Y/N rarely let loose like this, and while he loved seeing her happy, a part of him couldn’t shake the need to keep her safe.

As they stood off to the side, Y/N’s attention was caught by a man weaving his way through the crowd toward her. She didn’t notice the way Lando’s posture tensed, his playful demeanour replaced by a quiet vigilance.

The man stopped in front of her, his height forcing her to crane her neck to meet his gaze. “Hey there,” he said, flashing what he probably thought was a charming smile. “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

Y/N offered a polite smile, stepping back slightly. “Oh, I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t take the hint. “Well, lucky for me I found you. Can I buy you a drink?”

“No, thanks,” she replied, her voice tight. She glanced at Lando, who was already stepping closer.

The man leaned in, his tone dropping. “Aw, come on. Just one.”

Before Y/N could respond, Lando was at her side, his arm slipping around her waist with practised ease. The gesture was protective but natural as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Hey, babe,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Everything okay?”

Y/N looked up at him, her relief palpable. “Yeah,” she murmured, leaning into his side.

The man’s expression shifted, annoyance flickering across his face. “Didn’t realize she was taken,” he muttered, backing off with a forced smile.

“Yeah, she is,” Lando said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, Y/N exhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you,” she said, looking up at Lando with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his hand lingering on her waist for a moment longer before letting go. “Let’s get some air.”

-----

Outside, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the club. Y/N shivered slightly, and without a word, Lando shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders.

“Lando, you’ll freeze,” she protested, though she made no move to take it off.

“I’ll survive,” he said with a small smile. “Besides, you need it more than I do.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distant hum of the city filling the air. Y/N clutched his jacket, her mind replaying the scene from the club.

“When you said you were my boyfriend…” she began hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It… it made me feel something. Something good.”

Lando turned to her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing. “I know you were just pretending, but… I’ve thought about it before. You and me.”

He stepped closer, his heart pounding. “You have?”

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “For a while now. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Lando reached out, his fingers brushing against hers. “Y/N,” he said softly. “I’ve liked you for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You wouldn’t ruin anything,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading away. Then, slowly, Lando leaned in, giving her every opportunity to pull away. She didn’t. Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss that deepened as their feelings finally found an outlet.

When they pulled apart, Y/N smiled, her forehead resting against his. “So… not just pretending, then?”

“Not even a little bit,” he replied, his voice warm and full of affection.

As they walked back into the club, hand in hand, Max and Pietra spotted them immediately.

“About time,” Max said with a grin, clinking his glass against Pietra’s.

Y/N and Lando laughed, but neither let go of the other’s hand for the rest of the night.

——-

Don’t forget to leave a note if you enjoyed it, feedback is always welcome !🩷

[cosmiclily]

ugh, here i go again, can i ask for a (really) jealous Vi?

the os "when she sees me" with Ellie (hope is ellie from tlou), made me think in other scenario, where reader and Ellie are good friends, but Vi doesn't like Ellie that much, cause she knows that Ellie likes reader and she's trying to make a move, but reader it's clueless about it, maybe college au?

so, if you can and want to do it, here's my request 🩷

★ jealousy jealousy

vi x f!reader

wc: 3k

notes: jealous vi save me!!! (it was ellie from tlou but i’ve never played it i just think she’s hot 😝). i really liked this, hope you enjoy it! 💕 thank you for the request heehee

Vi was jealous — that much was painfully obvious. She hated how Ellie seemed to be everywhere, how she looked at you, how she touched you, how she talked to you like she owned the right to your attention. It wasn’t subtle either; Vi’s jealousy burned so brightly that half your friend group had started a bet. The stakes? Whether you’d finally clue in to how hopelessly in love Vi was, or if she’d snap and punch Ellie in the face for never giving you a moment alone.

“God, she’s everywhere. She’s like a fucking leech, sucking Y/N’s energy all the time,” Vi grumbled, stabbing at her lunch with unnecessary force. She barely touched her food, too focused on watching you in line at the cafeteria. Ellie had one arm slung over your shoulder, leaning in too close, her smile just a little too flirty. And, of course, you were blissfully unaware — which was a talent of yours, honestly. You had a downright supernatural ability to miss the fact that people had feelings for you.

“And you don’t have the balls to do anything about it,” Jinx snorted, shoveling mac and cheese into her mouth like her life depended on it. “If you stopped being a total wuss and, I don’t know, confessed already, maybe you wouldn’t have to sit here glaring at them like a fucking creep.”

Vi shot her sister a deadly look, jaw clenching so tight it could crack. “I am not a creep.”

“Okay, stalker,” Jinx said, licking cheese off her spoon. “You’re like two seconds away from growling at her like some feral animal. And, honestly? I think Ellie likes the attention.”

“I’m not giving her attention.”

Jinx cackled. “Yeah? So why do you know exactly how many times she’s touched Y/N’s arm in the last five minutes?”

Vi opened her mouth to argue, but just then, you and Ellie started making your way over to the table, laughing at something she said. Vi immediately straightened up, shoulders squared like she was bracing for impact.

“Hi, Vi!” You slid into the seat next to her, offering her a small, shy wave. “Where is everyone else?”

Vi’s heart skipped, the frustration temporarily fading just from hearing your voice. “Uh, I think Ekko and Cait are still in class,” she muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Jinx and I were just hanging out.”

Ellie plopped down on the other side of you, and Vi had to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Ellie said, pointing between you and Vi with a shit-eating grin as she leaned her chin on her hand. She said it like a joke, but there was that undercurrent of smugness — like she knew exactly where to twist the knife.

Vi stiffened, her fingers curling into fists under the table so tightly her knuckles went white. Jinx, meanwhile, didn’t even try to hide her glee, practically choking on her drink as she watched her sister suffer.

You blinked, completely oblivious to the tension radiating across the table. “Oh! No, we’re just friends,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “I hang out with Vi all the time.”

Vi felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Just friends. The words echoed in her head, sharp and unforgiving.

Jinx kicked Vi under the table, leaning close to mutter, “If you don’t do something soon, she’s gonna end up dating Ellie out of sheer obliviousness.”

Vi clenched her jaw, her pulse hammering in her ears. She wasn’t sure which would happen first — her heart imploding from how badly she wanted you, or her patience finally snapping in half.

Either way, something was going to break.

“Did you guys hear about the party the girls from the football team are hosting?” you asked, poking at your salad with your fork. Vi watched as a crumb slipped from your sandwich and rested on your chin, her fingers twitching with the urge to wipe it away. You looked so effortlessly cute like that, and it took everything in her not to reach out and brush it off — or worse, lick it off.

“Oh yeah, it’s an annual thing they do,” Ellie chimed in. “Do you wanna go?”

And just like that, the moment was ruined. Vi’s brain screeched to a halt. Any thought of crumbs or lingering touches evaporated the second Ellie opened her mouth. The idea of you at a party, laughing and dancing, with Ellie glued to your side all night? It made Vi feel like her chest was caught in a vice.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” you mused, chewing thoughtfully. Then you turned to Vi, your eyes bright and expectant. “What do you think, Vi?”

Vi’s brain short-circuited. “Huh?”

Jinx bit down on her fist to keep from laughing, her shoulders shaking with poorly contained amusement. “Smooth” she coughed, barely covering the sound of her giggles.

Vi cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck to cover how flushed she felt. “Uh, yeah. I think it would be cool” she said, her voice awkward and stilted. “To go, you know... to the party.”

Ellie grinned like a cat who’d cornered a mouse. “Perfect! Maybe we can all pregame together.” She reached over and wiped the crumb off your chin with her thumb, her touch lingering just a little too long.

Vi felt her jaw clench so hard it hurt.

“Ellie, don’t be weird” you laughed, swatting her hand away, completely unaware of the way Vi was mentally preparing herself to throw hands.

“Sorry, sorry,” Ellie said, but she didn’t sound sorry. “Just looking out for my girl.”

Vi couldn’t take it anymore. She slammed her fists down on the table, the sound echoing through the cafeteria like a gunshot. “Okay, what the fuck is your deal?”

The table fell silent. Even Jinx looked surprised, eyes flicking between her sister and Ellie like she was watching a live soap opera unfold.

“My deal?” Ellie blinked, feigning innocence, though her smirk gave her away. “I’m just being friendly, Vi. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Vi leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table, her eyes burning with barely contained rage. “Friendly? You’re all over her like a parasite.”

Your eyes widened, glancing between the two of them. “Vi, what are you talking about?”

Vi swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming like a war drum. She knew she was seconds away from saying something she couldn’t take back — something that would rip her heart out and hand it to you, whether you wanted it or not.

She was breathing hard, chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Her fingers twitched at her sides, itching to either punch something (or someone) or grab your hand and beg you to understand. But instead, she shut down.

“Just… forget it” she muttered, her voice tight and raw. She shoved her chair back so hard it screeched against the floor, standing up and storming out of the cafeteria without another word, leaving behind a heavy, suffocating silence.

You sat there, stunned, your lunch suddenly forgotten. Jinx picked at her food like this was just another tuesday, only sparing you a side glance as you stared after Vi, confusion gnawing at your chest.

“What… just happened?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jinx shrugged, stuffing a fry in her mouth. “That? That was my sister throwing a tantrum.” She wiped her hands on her pants and leaned back in her chair. “Congrats, you broke her.”

“I didn’t do anything!” you protested, rubbing your temples.

“Exactly” Jinx said, pointing at you with her fork like she’d just delivered some life-altering revelation.

──────────────────────

After the tantrum —as Jinx so helpfully called it— Vi avoided you for the rest of the week. She skipped lunch, disappeared from your usual hangouts, and even left group chats on read. You hated to admit it, but her absence left this gaping, hollow ache in you, like something essential had been ripped away.

You missed her.

The way she always saved you a seat, how she’d absentmindedly play with the hem of your shirt when you sat close, or how she’d walk you to class even when it was out of her way. You missed her laugh, her stupid jokes, and the way she always looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

And the worst part? Ellie didn't disappear. If anything, she was around even more — sticking to you like glue, inviting herself over to your dorm to "study," and draping herself over you like a human blanket anytime you sat down.

Which led to you finally cracking.

“What do you think Vi meant by Ellie being all over me like a parasite?” you asked Caitlyn during one of your walks through campus. The two of you had become fast friends on the first day of college — you’d been hopelessly lost, and Caitlyn had looked so smart and put together that you’d mistaken her for an upperclassman. Turns out she was just a very organized freshman with an almost scary level of preparedness.

Caitlyn gave you a look like you’d just asked her if the sky was blue. “Are you serious?”

You frowned, shoving your hands in your hoodie pockets. “What? I don’t get it.”

Caitlyn stopped walking, turning to face you. “Y/N, Ellie is always all over you. It’s actually painful to watch sometimes. She hangs off you like a needy koala.”

You scratched your arm awkwardly, heat creeping up your neck. “She’s just being friendly…”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, yeah, because friends totally caress your arm every time they talk to you and pull you into their laps at parties.”

“I say on her lap once, and it was because there weren’t enough chairs” you argued weakly.

Caitlyn snorted. “There were plenty of chairs.” She started walking again, and you had to jog a little to catch up. “Look, I get it — you’re a little oblivious, and that’s fine. But you can’t seriously tell me you haven’t noticed how she only acts like that when Vi’s around.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your tongue. Because the truth was… you had noticed. At first, you thought Ellie was just affectionate, but the way she ramped it up anytime Vi got within a ten-foot radius of you? The way she’d cling to your arm and flirt way too hard whenever Vi was watching?

It felt intentional.

And now that you were thinking about it, Vi always got quiet when Ellie was around. She’d stiffen, her whole body tensing up like she was ready for a fight. And those looks she gave Ellie — sharp and burning, like she wanted to tear her apart?

Your heart dropped into your stomach.

“... Oh my God” you whispered, stopping in your tracks.

Caitlyn turned around, tilting her head. “Finally catching up?”

You stared at her, your pulse ringing in your ears. “Vi likes me.”

Caitlyn’s mouth fell open in mock surprise. “No way.“

You felt dizzy, your mind racing through every interaction you’d ever had with Vi — every lingering touch, every lingering stare, every time she showed up at your door with your favorite snack just because.

Vi had feelings for you. Vi had feelings for you.

And you might’ve just broken her heart without even realizing it.

“I have to find her,” you blurted out, already turning on your heel.

Caitlyn chuckled, watching you sprint across campus like your life depended on it. “Go get your girl, Y/N.”

──────────────────────

You looked everywhere you could think of — the gym, the cafeteria, the library, the field. But Vi was nowhere to be found. You tried calling her, over and over, but every call went to voicemail. She’d gone full ghost mode, ignoring all your messages like you didn’t even exist.

Your chest tightened, frustration and guilt tangling together like vines. You hated the thought of her hurting, especially because of you.

There was only one place left to check: the roof.

It was your shared hideout — a quiet escape from the noise of campus life. Sometimes the two of you would sneak up there to talk for hours, and on rare nights when you could slip past security, you’d lay side by side, staring at the stars until you fell asleep.

It had been a while since you’d done that.

Your heart thudded as you climbed the stairs, the metal door creaking as you pushed it open. Cool air rushed past you, the evening sky stretching endlessly above, painted in soft hues of purple and gold as the sun dipped below the horizon.

And there she was.

Vi sat on the ledge, legs dangling over the side, her back to you. She had a small flask in her hand, though it looked like she hadn’t actually drunk from it. The cap remained on, and she just kept passing it from one hand to the other, over and over, like she needed something to do with her hands.

“Vi?” you called out, voice barely above a whisper.

Her shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. “Go away, Y/N.”

Your chest ached at the sound of her voice — low and rough, like she’d been holding back tears all day. But you weren’t about to give up. Not now.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, stepping onto the roof and letting the door slam shut behind you. The sound echoed across the rooftop, but Vi still didn’t move. “Not until you talk to me.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

You walked closer, cautiously, like she might disappear if you got too close. “Vi, please,” you said, voice softening. “You’ve been avoiding me all week. You stormed out of the cafeteria like I personally stabbed you in the heart. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

Vi finally turned to face you, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, her jaw clenched so tight you thought her teeth might crack. “It’s not about what you did, Y/N. It’s about what you don’t see.”

You swallowed hard, taking another step toward her. “Then help me see it.”

Vi looked at you for a long, agonizing moment. The wind tousled her pink hair, and the fading sunlight cast a golden glow on her skin, making her look almost unreal — like something fragile and fleeting.

Then she broke.

“I like you,” she blurted out, the words ripping from her chest like they physically hurt to say. She shoved the flask in her pocket, running both hands through her hair. “I’ve liked you since the first time we hung out, and every single day I tell myself to get over it, but I can’t.”

You stood frozen, heart hammering against your ribs.

Vi laughed bitterly, pacing along the edge of the roof. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch Ellie hang all over you? To watch her touch you, flirt with you, and know that she can do all of that, and I can’t? Because I’m too much of a coward to tell you how I feel?” She turned to you, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “I can’t take it anymore, Y/N. It’s killing me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the realization fully sank in — Caitlyn had been right. Jinx had been right. Everyone had seen it but you.

Vi, the person you trusted more than anyone else in the world, was in love with you. And she had been for a long time.

“I’m sorry,” Vi whispered, her voice breaking. She wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie, stepping back toward the door. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll figure out how to deal with it, okay? I just... I need some space.”

Before she could leave, you grabbed her hand.

Vi froze, her breath hitching.

“You don’t have to deal with it,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Because I don’t want you to get over it.”

Vi turned to face you, brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

You took a shaky breath, heart pounding as you stepped closer, until there was barely any space left between you. “I don’t want you to get over me” you repeated, your fingers tightening around hers. “Because I think... I think I like you too. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Vi stared at you, wide-eyed and speechless, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

And then, without warning, she grabbed your face and kissed you.

It was desperate and messy, pent-up feelings pouring out all at once. Her hands cradled your cheeks like you were something precious, and she kissed you like she was terrified this might be her only chance.

But you kissed her back.

You kissed her with everything you had, standing on your tiptoes to get closer, your fingers tangling in her hoodie as if letting go would shatter the moment.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting together as you tried to catch your breath.

You let out a small chuckle, even if there was nothing to laugh about. “I’m sorry for being so blind.”

Vi shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her lips. “It’s fine. I should have said something sooner” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “I was just scared.”

You cupped her face, brushing your thumb along her jawline. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Vi smiled, the kind of smile that made your chest ache with how much you cared for her. She pulled you into her arms, hugging you so tightly it felt like she was trying to make up for every second she’d spent holding back.

“Can we stay up here a little longer?” she asked, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You nodded, lacing your fingers with hers. “Yeah,” you whispered, leaning your head against hers as you both sat down. “We can stay as long as you want.”

──────────────────────

masterlist

[misswynters]

The Northern Chronicles

Cregan Stark x Arryn!wife!reader

[SYNOPSIS: This is just the beginning of the beautiful story of the Stark Dozen. The legendary family that ruled over the north and who’s children grew to influence all of Westeros.

[WARNING: none

[NOTE | short drabble of cregan and you with your 10 children at winterfell. (aged up to current time however some chapters will include when the children are younger as well) but will become a series! so if you would like to be tagged let me know in the comments.

NEXT: Northern Chronicles: Lady Arryn & Lord Stark

Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky as you and your husband stood in the courtyard of Winterfell, watching your beautiful ten children play in the crisp winter air. The sight of them, bundled in animal furs and laughing as they tumbled through the snow, filled your heart with warmth despite the cold atmosphere.

Edrick, the eldest twin, a tall and sturdy young man with Cregan’s brooding eyes, was engaged in a snowball fight with his younger siblings. His laughter rang out as he dodged a particularly well-aimed snowball from his twin sister, who had inherited your quick wit and fiery spirit.

Selyse, the younger twin, is your eldest daughter, with her wild curls and spirited energy, led a group of her younger siblings in building an elaborate snow fort. The scene was chaotic but joyful, each child contributing their own unique flair to the project.

Cregan, sitting beside you, wrapped his arm around your waist, his presence a solid and comforting anchor in the midst of the winter wonderland. “Look at them,” he said softly, his voice filled with pride. “They’re growing up so quickly.”

You leaned into him, your gaze fixed on the children. “They are. It feels like just yesterday they were learning to walk, and now they’re running through the snow, making memories of their own.”

The two of you shared a moment of quiet contentment, watching as your youngest, barely old enough to walk, took his first wobbly steps in the snow, his siblings cheering him on with enthusiastic shouts.

Your youngest son, Finnian stood in front of you both holding a dead in his tiny arms. “Papa look at me!” The boy said enthusiastically, waving the dead animal around by the tail. Cregans eyes widened at the scene.

“Boy!, put that animal down. Now!” He said in a commanding voice as he stood up to walk towards his son. As an instinct, finnian began to run away, cutting through his siblings snowball fight. The mischievous little boy had the widest smile in his face. You thought it was adorable seeing your husband chase him.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden light over the landscape, you and Cregan gathered the children for a cozy family dinner inside the great hall. The children’s laughter echoed through the halls as they recounted their adventures in the snow, their faces flushed with happiness.

The long wooden table was adorned with hearty fare—roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and rich, steaming stews. The hall was filled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food, and the warmth of the hearth crackled cheerfully against the cold outside.

With everyone settled at the table, you took a moment to admire the scene. Cregan’s broad shoulders were relaxed as he shared a joke with the older children, while you served the younger ones with a smile. The joyful chaos of a large family dinner enveloped you, a testament to the love and unity that bound you all together.

Amidst the lively conversation and clinking of mugs, a handmaiden named Kyra, who had been assigned to help with the evening’s preparations, entered the hall carrying a fresh platter of meat. Her expression was sour, and her demeanor dismissive. She set the platter down with a huff, casting an impatient glance at the children.

As she turned to leave, she made an offhand comment loud enough for several to hear. “I suppose the Stark children are too busy playing to remember their manners,” she sneered, her gaze landing on your eldest daughter, Selyse.

Your daughter, already sensitive to such slights, stiffened in her seat, her cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and anger. The room fell silent for a moment, the insult hanging heavily in the air.

Cregan’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. You could see the protective anger in his gaze, but before he could speak, you gently touched his arm, signaling him to let you handle it.

Rising from your seat, you approached Kyra with a calm but firm demeanor. “Kyra, it seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” you began, your voice steady. “Our children are the heart of Winterfell, and they deserve respect, as do all who live and work here.”

Kyra’s face flushed with a mix of shame and surprise. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut her off gently but firmly. “I understand. But please remember, everyone here is valued, and our children are no exception.”

Turning back to your daughter, you offered her a reassuring smile. “Come, sit with me,” you said softly, guiding her to a seat next to you. The warmth of your presence seemed to ease her tension, and she gave you a grateful, if slightly embarrassed, smile.

The dinner resumed with a renewed sense of camaraderie, the earlier tension slowly dissipating as the children continued to share their stories and laughter. Kyra, now noticeably more subdued, moved quietly through the hall, her previous rudeness replaced by a more respectful demeanor.

As the evening wore on and the stars began to twinkle outside the grand windows, you and Cregan watched as your children interacted with each other and the rest of the household staff. The hall was once again filled with the joyous sounds of family, and despite the brief moment of discord, the evening had restored its warm and loving atmosphere.

Cregan squeezed your hand under the table, his eyes filled with appreciation. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For handling that so gracefully.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “We’re a family, and their respect is very important, especially when it matters most.”

As the night drew to a close and the children’s laughter faded into sleepy murmurs, you and Cregan stood together, the echoes of the day’s joy lingering in the air. The love that filled Winterfell was a testament to the strength and unity of your family—a family that, despite its challenges, would always stand strong and united under the watchful gaze of the stars.

Next | Lady Arryn & Lord Stark

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @travelingmypassion @shoxji @thornsandtulips @spn-obession @giovanna-hyt @r-3dlips

banner: by @cafekitsune

[yourtypicalhuman09]

can you do a haruhi reader with yan batfam?’ i’d love to see it ^^ i need my old hyper fixation with my new one

omg i loved writing this. OHSHC was one of my biggest fixations when i first started watching anime! Sorry for the long wait, i know you requested this so long ago😭. Anyways tysm for requesting this and i hope you enjoy!

Money Runs The World

Yandere Batfam x Haruhi reader

TW!!! Fem Reader!! Discrimination against the poor!! Yandere themes!! Mentions of Transphobia(I do not support this!)!!

You were lucky to make it into such a prestigious school like Gotham Prep. Your parents worked themselves to the bone to have enough money to support you and you sacrificed so much time and energy to have high enough scores to even qualify. But was it worth it?

sure the facilities were nice and the classes were okay but school life socially absolutely sucked. The students outwardly scorned you and the teachers scored you extra harshly, forcing you to retreat into your shell and make yourself as unknown as you could. After the stigma of having a poor person attend the private school people began to forget about you and not even bother with you anymore.

Things were finally okay again, that was until you stumbled upon the so called host club. You haven’t even heard of this wretched club but apparently they were oh so popular. Either way you had accidentally broken a vase that cost more than your life. Now you had to work your debt off, dealing with the shenanigans of the other club members and all of their drama.

It wasn't until your identity as a woman got outed did things go wrong. On top of Tamaki's overbearingness, now you had to deal with all of the curious students who wanted to see the host club girl who pretended to be a man. In your defense you were forced to do this. If it were up to you, you'd never draw this much attention to yourself. but of course things never go your way now do they.

You've of course heard of the Wayne family before but you'd never thing you'd actually become acquainted with them. It started with Stephanie, Cassandra, and Barbara, who came to the host club long before you joined. Usually they'd be interested in another host, for example Stephanie enjoyed hanging out with Honey due to his child like demeanor, Barbara preferred Kyoya or Mori because the others were too loud for her taste, and Cassandra always asked for Tamaki because she enjoyed hearing him yap on and on. But when it came out that you were actually a woman their interest was piqued.

Suddenly you were invited to fancy galas and luxurious house parties, and without fail they'd strike up conversation with you every time you'd come. Honestly they themselves didn't truly know what kept their interest on you, but it was something about how you were nothing like the shameless freak who wanted to be a man like how most of high society painted you as. You were actually quite wonderful, once you got comfortable with them you were such a joy to be around. If you wanted to be a man or woman didn't matter to them because either way you were still their (Y/N), and it wasn't long before the rest of the family became enamored with you too.

First it was Bruce who became worried when the girls wouldn't come home for hours. As soon as he saw your sweet joyful figure with his girls he was a goner, and by the time the girls came back from your outing he already had the adoption papers drafted. Soon enough you were invited to the actual Wayne manor and the rest of the family would succumb to the same spell you had unintentionally put on Bruce and the batgirls.

Soon enough Dick would be following you around like a dog begging for attention, Tim would have you sitting next to him as you both worked on a silly coding project for fun, Jason would be teaching you self defense and praising you as you learned quickly, Damien would have you sitting still on a stool as he painted you down to the tiniest detail of your eyelash, and Duke would spend hours with you playing video games and watching movies. You saw the batfam more than your own family and it was beginning to become a problem.

When your dad collapsed from overworking you were distraught. You and your mom tried working extra hard to pay the hospital bills, and as a result the time the batfam had with you was greatly reduced. They wouldn't stand for it and with the snap of a finger your family had thousands of dollars in their bank account. The catch? oh your family just had to give up any parental rights over you and let you live with the batfam, no biggie. And if they didn't agree... well they had other ways to convince them.

Either way you ended up living with them permanently and against your will. You loved your mom and dad but this is a cruel world we live in and if you wanted them to live comfortably then you'd have to relent. Things weren't all too bad, you at least weren't starving and had nice clothes and a comfortable spacious room. Though, you had absolutely zero privacy and no time for yourself. You spent every living moment with at least one of the batfam members, and your friends from the host club were long shooed away by their possessiveness.

You had once hoped to one day escape back to your loving family but after discovering a secret that you weren't supposed to unveil all hope was lost in an instant. Even if you ran away, they were master detectives and 100x stronger than you, you wouldn't stand a chance.

you were stuck with them whether you liked it or not, bought from your family like a porcelain doll.

Credits to dollywons for these wonderful dividers

[winteringdream]

MY BOYFRIEND ! ──── kim woonhak

✩ ⋅ pairing. kim woonhak x gn!reader ✩ ⋅ genre. fluff, headcanona ✩ ⋅ warnings. none! ✩ ⋅ wc. 1k-ish ✩ ⋅ riwoo's version! | taesan’s version! | sungho's version | myungjae's version | leehan's version

BOYFRIEND WOONHAK WHO WOULD... brag about you to literally everyone.

You barely step into the café before Woonhak spots you, his face lighting up instantly. “There they are!” he announces, waving you over as his friends turn to look.

“Oh no,” you mutter under your breath, already bracing yourself.

Woonhak, completely oblivious to your embarassement, slings an arm around your shoulder the moment you reach him. “Guys, have I mentioned that they're the best? Like, actually the best? I don’t know how I got this lucky.”

His friends groan in unison. “You mention it every time.”

“And yet, it’s still not enough,” Woonhak declares proudly, grinning down at you. “Anyway, did I tell you they—”

You sigh, but you can’t help smiling as you nudge him. “Enough, Woon.”

“Never,” he replies, beaming.

BOYFRIEND WOONHAK WHO WOULD... pout if you didn’t give him enough attention, only to break into a huge smile the moment you look his way.

You’re sitting at your desk, completely focused on your work, when you feel a presence beside you. Ignoring it at first, you continue typing, until an exaggerated sigh sounds from beside you.

You glance up to find Woonhak standing there, arms crossed, lips pushed out in the biggest pout you’ve ever seen.

“What?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ve been ignoring me for exactly seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds,” he huffs.

You roll your eyes. “You’ll survive, I need to finish this before the deadline give me a few more minutes.”

Woonhak lets out another dramatic sigh, loudly flopping onto the couch. But the second you turn your chair toward him, his pout vanishes, replaced by a bright, cheeky grin.

“Knew that’d get your attention,” he says, throwing a pillow in your direction.

You shake your head, laughing, before catching the pillow. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me~” he sing-songs, winking.

BOYFRIEND WOONHAK WHO WOULD...never let you go to bed upset, staying up as long as it takes to talk things through and reassure you that everything is okay.

You sit on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around yourself, staring at the floor. The room is quiet. Woonhak is next to you, his usual playful energy gone.

“Talk to me,” he says softly. No teasing, no jokes just him patiently waiting.

You shake your head, not because you don’t want to, but because you don’t what to say.

Woonhak shifts closer, his fingers brushing yours before he takes your hand fully. “I don’t care how long it takes,” he murmurs. “I just don’t want you to go to sleep feeling like this.”

You swallow and slowly exhale. “I just… I don’t like fighting with you.”

He squeezes your hand gently. “Me neither. But we’ll figure it out, okay?”

“Are you mad at me? Do you hate me?” you murmur, refusing to look him in the eye.

“What? Of course not” he replies, tilting his head until he makes eye contact with you. "I'm not mad at you and I don't hate you. Couples fight, that's normal. I still love you, no matter what."

You nod, and Woonhak pulls you into his arms, holding you close like he has all the time in the world.

BOYFRIEND WOONHAK WHO WOULD... insist on winning you plushies at the arcade, and if he failed, he’d dramatically accuse the machine of being rigged.

The claw hovers over the plushie, Woonhak’s eyes locked on it with intense focus. You hold your breath as he presses the button, watching the metal claws go down, grip the stuffed animal.

Woonhak stands frozen as the stuffed bear tumbles back into the pile. There’s a moment of silence before he turns to you, eyes wide with betrayal. “What was that? I had it!”

"Or maybe you’re just bad at it.” you snort.

He gasps, clutching his chest. “How dare you?” Then, he spins back to the machine, jabbing a finger at it. “This thing is rigged. There’s no way.”

You cross your arms, amused. “So you’re done?”

Woonhak scoffs. “Obviously not. Have you never seen that mining picture, babe. Our next turn might be it!” He steps aside and gestures grandly. “So now it’s your turn. But don’t worry, I’ll coach you.”

You give him a look. “Oh, so now I have to play?”

“Yes,” he says, completely serious. “We win together.”

And just like that, he’s holding you by your shoulders, muttering game strategies like this is the most important mission of your life.

BOYFRIEND WOONHAK WHO WOULD... send you the most ridiculous selfies whenever he is bored

Your phone buzzes, and without even looking, you already know who it is.

Opening the message, you’re greeted by a ridiculously close-up selfie. His face scrunched in a way that somehow makes his nose look huge, chin tucked in for maximum effect.

"thinking about you… but also about chicken nuggets. idk which one i love more"

You giggle, typing out a reply to his text.

"glad to know I rank as high as processed chicken"

Almost immediately, your phone dings again. This time, it’s a picture of him with dramatically wide eyes, one hand over his chest as if your words physically wounded him.

"you don’t get it you and nuggets are my entire world"

Rolling your eyes, you’re about to respond when another picture arrives. This time, it’s him sitting in what looks like a fast-food restaurant, two orders of nuggets in front of him.

"one box is for you. come claim your place in my heart."

You shake your head, laughing to yourself. He’s ridiculous. But you’re already grabbing your jacket.

bonedo taglist: @ihruaz @tmrwsuns