#if you need something tagged feel free to ask but I can't promise i will keep up with it sorry! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

russellsppttemplates · 7 months ago

Text

Straight from the heart (Lando Norris)

It takes a bad race for Lando to notice how much he has neglected your relationship, and he can only hope he can fix it

Note: english is not my first language. I was fighting the other piece I was writing so I jumped to this one and I did something a little bit different (* cough cough * longer) and see how it goes! I'm not sure how good this is (or how much you will want to kill me), but I promise this has a happy ending!! 🥹🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: relationship struggles, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

The result on the screen was not the one you hoped. Lando had a wonderful race, but a mixture of bad strategy calls, dark rain clouds appearing on the sky with only a couple of laps left to finish the race and the wrong tire compound made him lose a good number of places, cars overtaking him in the last seven laps.

"Is the race over?", you mother asked as she stepped inside the living room, carrying the curtains she had left out to dry and proceeding to hang them back in their place.

"Yes, just now", your father said as he adjusted the volume on the TV, "let me help you, darling", he offered, getting up and standing beside your mum in case she got out of balance.

"Are you going to call Lando?", your mother asked once her squinty eyes read the position he had finished in. Even though the prescription glasses were on the table, she insisted she didn't want any mishaps after she accidentally dropped her last pair while she was gardening and one of your younger cousins found a rusty frame a couple of months later when he was over.

"I'm not, I don't think - he's flying back tonight and the timezone is so different, I don't want to bother him", you blurted defensively, making up excuses as you went along with your answer, "he's doing the interviews, and I'm sure the debrief will be long and torturous - he will need his rest to fly back", you stated as you got up, "I have to check on the project I handed in on Friday, the professor said he would post the grades around this time and if we want to appel, we have to do it right away - I'll be in my bedroom".

The subject was an open wound that stung everytime you so much heard a mention of it, let one having to seem completely okay with it when it ripped through your heart.

The calendar on your wall is full of stickers, both with notes, urgent matters and things you couldn't forget. It's the last stretch, you tell yourself, one more week and then it's done and you'll have a well deserved break.

A knock on your door catches your attention as you reply with the allowance to let whoever is on the other side in, "is something wrong?", you asked. Lately, the negative side of your mind was the first one to speak.

"That's what I want to ask you - that conversation we just had downstairs was not your usual self", she sighed as she pointed to the living room, "I've noticed you haven't mentioned him much, but I don't want to intrude or offer my help because I know you don't like meddling", your mother looked for your eyes before you could fully focus on the wooden floor.

"Things have been rough between us lately", you sighed, "Lando is keeping me at a distance, and I don't know the reason why, mum", you shrugged, "I don't know if it's because I've known him all my life and the comparison is so profound, but it seems he only cares about racing and his friends, and I'm nowhere in the mix. We rarely call eachother, no texting - I know the triple headers are intense, but all I got from him were reactions to my stories and a little video from Max where he's in it and said something to me", you recalled, "I can't be the only one making an effort, can I? Either he realised where this is going and we catch it while we can, or I don't know where this is going, I don't know where we're going".

Your mother's heart broke as she saw you allow the tears you had held on to fall freely, your sleeves bunched up on your hands to wipe them, "and have you talked about this? A long, grown-up and serious conversation?", she mused.

"We have barely been with eachother, mum!", you whispered shakily as more tears got caught on your throat.

"Couples go through phases, darling - do you think me and your father was all smooth sailing?", she tried to get you to smile as she brushed your hair while she hugged you, "you need to talk to eachother, seriously and let it all out, nothing is off limits because that's how you'll get to where you need to".

You kept your head on your mother's chest, accepting her comforting hold despite being an adult. A mother's hold was truly the best.

You hoped she was right and this was something that would pass. A rough patch that you and Lando would work through a look back on with a sense of accomplishment.

This wasn't how you and Lando end, is it?

Max and Lando headed for the plane as soon as they left the race track, having made prior arrangements to had their luggage there waiting for them once they arrived. Max was the first to sit down and get himself comfortable on the seat, texting his girlfriend to let her know they were leaving.

"Y/N hasn't called or even texted me, nothing", Lando mumbled, "didn't she watch the race? Doesn't she know that I need her?".

Max weighed in the good and the bad that his next few words could do. He could either be honest and encourage his best friend to finally come to his senses, or keep covering the lie and perpetuate the suffering and miscommunications.

"This is not how I wanted to do this - truth be told, I never wanted to have to do it", Max rambled off.

Lando was quick to notice that there was more to it than just this instance, "you know something - she's my girlfriend, Max, if something is happening, I deserve to know", he said in an antsy tone.

"Are you really so blind to it? Have you not noticed it yet? Damn it, Lando, I've been on your side, trying to clean it up and now I'm questioning it", Max declared as Lando only grew more confused.

"What am I missing Max?", Lando snapped, even catching his own self off guard at the reaction he had.

"Mate, think about the last couple of months and whether or not you have been a good boyfriend, or even the boyfriend Y/N deserves", Max offered.

Lando wasn't expecting that answer or point of view.

The last couple of months roll through his memory as if he's watching a movie and when he tries to select the moments he spent with you, he finds himself struggling to gather any at all. He can't remember any of the times you spent together, and considering his memory isn't that bad, it could only mean those moments didn't even happen. Thinking about it, he can remember the last time he held you in his arms, just the two of you.

"Fuck!", Lando shouted, punching the arm rest.

"Glad you figured that one out almost all on your own", Max tsked, "do you really think you deserve any interaction from Y/N? Thought so", Max muttered. He didn't like the situation his friends found themselves in, and he certainly didn't feel any joy in the words he told Lando, but the truth wasn't always easy to hear.

"Seems Y/N doesn't think so either", Lando mumbled, "do you know anything? Has she told you anything?".

He wasn't sure he deserved to know, but he needed to.

"The last time I spoke to her she didn't say anything - you know how Y/N doesn't want to bother anyone with her things and getting information from her is harder than solving the world's problems -, but P and her talk here and there", Max reasoned, "she obviously won't tell me all the details but from what I can tell, Y/N has really taken a toll because of this, P is always quite upset whenever it comes up", Max offered. Quite upset wouldn't cover it, so much so that, unbeknownst to Lando, the last couple of time Max's girlfriend couldn't join them for their plans was an orchestrated excuse from her to avoid being in the same room as the McLaren driver.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!", Lando groaned into his hands, "how could I not realise this was happening?".

"You want the honest, blunt truth?", Max asked and Lando nodded, "I know it's your job, but lately, it's all been about racing, and I think you've neglected Y/N ", Max offered.

McLaren had a one hundred and eighty degree turn lately. From struggling to get their cars in the points, the team had managed to turn things around to the point where P5 and P8 was considered a bad weekend for them.

With the new signings, Quadrant had grown exponentially and it had naturally drawn him to spend more time on it, and it seemed to have alienated everyone in his life that wasn't directly a part of those.

It wasn't intentional, but it didn't mean that it didn't hurt. And by the looks of it, the person Lando loved and cared about most was also the one he hurt the most.

They both sat in silence as the British drive thought about all of it. Things got so good that he didn't look back, he worked his hardest and gave every piece of himself to the cause and the new territory he was paving. Being on the podium was a common feature for him, and the race win was there, up for grabs and he wanted it. Yet, he had been dazzled by it and had let himself fly higher, his characteristic "both head and feet on the ground" posture no longer present and resulting in a degree of neglection for the things and people thay mattered to him.have always been important to me.

"How did I push away the most important person in my life and I'm just now realizing this?", Lando asked, not really expecting an answer, but rather to let out all the frustration that boiled inside him, anger soon following at his late realisation, "what's worse is that I've only come to realise this because you had to tell me - stupid, stupid, stupid".

"I don't know what you want me to tell you, mate, and frankly there isn't much I can, but look on the bright side: now you have a chance to fix it", Max tries to comfort Lando.

"What if it's too late? What if Y/N doesn't want to be with me anymore?", Lando voicesd his deepest fear. What if the anger had finally got to you and you wanted to call it quits?

"Wouldn't you be able to understand that? I don't think that is the case - I've never seen two people who love eachtoher more than you two, it's as disgusting as it it lovely most times. And even though she might feel angry or hurt, I believe she has it in her to forgive you", Max states.

"I hope you're right", Lando sighed as he tapped his phone, his finger hovering over your contact.

"I wouldn't do that", Max chirped, "you should rest before diving into anything about that topic, and today has had too many emotions as it is. Tomorrow is a new day for you to think about it", he advised.

With his head on the headrest, Lando went over everything that occupied his mind, allowing the heavy sinking feeling to settle in. To a degree, he deserved the discomfort he felt. Shame, guilt, frustration, remorse, embarrassment, overwhelm, sadness.

What if he had destroyed the thing that made him the happiest? If I managed to single out the person who loved him for him?

Lan 🧡

Hello. You were probably expecting a text or a call, but the last few days haven't been easy and I needed to ground myself a little. We really need to talk, Y/N. Do you think we can grab lunch today?

It irritated you how quick your heart was beating the minute you saw who sent you the text after you submitted all the projects that you had left. Battling an inner fight of whether or not you should answer it, you decided to so it. Rip the band-aid off, Y/N.

To Lan 🧡

Hello... We do urgently need to talk. I'm on my own today - where do you want to go?

Your tone was cold and unusual when you compared it to the older messages, filled with hearts and the pet names you had for eachother.

We can go to that café by the marina, the one with the paninis you really like.

Yes, we'll meet here at one pm.

Do you want me to pick you up?

No, I'll walk.

Your sunglasses are good enough to hide the nervous gloom on them as you walked to the marina. There is no script or guideline to go about this lunch other than honesty and finally admitting everything you were feeling. It could go either way and, truth be told, you believed it would go down the way it was supposed to.

Stepping on the wooden path to the small café's outside area, you looked for the boy whose arms were where you used to feel safe.

Lando chose a table that overlooked the water, the warm sun shinning and bringing out the blue of it. It would be a big conversation, and while the café wasn't crowded, he never knew how things could pan out so he went for the most demure spot.

When you take a proper look at him, it surprises you. His eyes are not shiny like they usually are - there's a dark hue surrounding them along with sadness.

"Hey", you utter out to grab his attention.

The moment he faces you, you feel naked despite the summery dress you have on. All vulnerabilities exposed for the person who knows you best and who can read you like the back of his hand.

"Hello, hi", Lando cleared his throat, "how have you been?".

Setting your bag on the chair, you shrugged, not ready to engage in casual chit chat.

"Do you already know what you are having?", he wondered.

"The italian panini and iced tea", you mumbled after looking at the menu he handed you, "have you ordered yet?", you mused before calling the waiter to do so.

The silence between you after the waiter left the table was painful and hard to digest. You avoided looking at his colourful eyes - once you did it, breaking down would be in an instant.

"We really need to talk, Y/N", Lando says.

"Do you want to go first? Or shall I?", you asked bitterly, accepting his silence.

The waiter comes back with your orders. The café doesn't have a big menu and it's mostly empty, so the service was quick, "I hope you enjoy it - Bon appétit!", he interrupted the tension filled moment.

"I recognise I need to apologize to you for all the things I did without realizing it an-", Lando was cut off by you.

"Let me stop you there before this derails", you stated, "I'm here to have a serious, grown up conversation, so I'm not going to sit here and listen to dusty and beaten up childish excuses".

If the ground could sink him into it, Lando would've accepted it gladly.

"It's a start that you have realised that something was wrong, but you can't excuse yourself like that, Lando. Not when this situation has taken proportions that you can't fanthom - you can't get away with being sorry for not noticing what you were causing", you argued.

Lando gave you a nod, "I'm still not sure about all the things that led us to this point and what it entails, and that's why I wanted you here. I don't want to be blind to it anymore - I want to get all of it so all the pieces make sense in my head. You probably won't believe it, Y/N, but I'm so lost in this. I feel like I've lived a parallel universe for the past couple of months", Lando added all in one go.

"When did your feet come back to the ground?", you mused, "when did you feel like maybe things weren't the way they should be?". The curiosity was killing you, and the answer could very well do the last stab.

"When I lost all of those places in the race", Lando gulped, "I expected you to call and to hear your comforting words, and they never came. Max was the one to bring my mind to the matter", he admitted and you could see he was the opposite of proud of his own actions, "How I've been the worst boyfriend in the world and how I deserved that you didn't call - hell, I'm not even sure if I deserve that you're here today and willing to listen to what I have to say".

It's difficult to maintain a tough appearance and pretend that his words don't affect you, but alas, you keep your armour on.

"That afternoon was a struggle for me, Lando. I wanted nothing more than to call you and hear your voice, silence your cornerns and negative thoughts, let you know that you're the best driver out there and that a bad race doesn't define you. That it wasn't your fault and that you shouldn't beat yourself up because of it, that I was still so proud of you and how you handled things and that nothing could keep me from shouting to the rooftops. But you didn't deserve it, my dignity has been punched by your actions day in day out for the past couple of months and I couldn't take it anymore".

"I need you to hear things from your side, I need to know your perspective so I can understand what I did wrong and if I'm able to fix it still", Lando asks desperately.

"We should start from the beggining then", you laced your hands on top of the table after taking a bite of your panini, "I think it was at the end of the last season - at the time it didn't seem like it, but looking at it now, it was the start. I even took some time off and travelled with you so we could enjoy your break, then I came back for university. It's never easy, I know, but up until then we never had any issues with it - even if it was a bloody run, we made time for eachother. Then, you barely texted, let alone call - but all relationships hit rough patches and I thought that it was ours. Then Christmas came around and we finally felt like us again, there were no work or uni commitments, and it was bliss. After that, life happened again and I couldn't find a way to spend time with you - there was always a Quadrant video to film or a meeting or some event. You, Max and Martin went to Bali, and despite the fact that I didn't have any exams and could easily do university stuff remotely - like I do everytime - you didn't even think to ask me if I wanted to go or if I had planned something for us in the first place. I just took it for granted that you would spend it with me, but when P showed me the photos I looked like a fool and an ungrateful friend and girlfriend because I stayed back, Lando. I never felt so humiliated. Max had his girlfriend and you didn't, you ignored me as if I didn't matter to you", you breathed out. Ruminating was one thing, talking about it out loud was another. The latter angered you less and hurt more.

"I'm sorry", Lando murmured and you were quick to shoot it down.

"I don't need you to apologize now, Lando. What I needed was for you to make a decision then, one that considered me and what I wanted", you sighed, wiping a stubborn tear that got out, "after that, I just watched you pull further and further away, and I tried to get closer, work things out, but you wouldn't let me in. You floated and floated and I stayed here, both feet glued to the ground as I watched you go higher and higher. You were never like this, letting things get to your head wasn't something you ever did, but it happened. You alienated me in such a way that for this triple header, I didn't hear your voice once unless it was from the TV or the McLaren social media. You only wanted to call when you needed comfort, and it hurts that it took Max to help you see things the way they are", you state as tears fell uncontrollably down your cheeks.

Apart from your earlier bite, both wooden serving boards look full and no one made a move to go further.

"You told me time and time again that you would always be there for me, but when I was the one needing a cuddle and reassuring words, I was all alone in my bedroom, crying because of you. When you said you'd be there for me, I guess you failed to account for the fact that you can't protect me from yourself.. Because what hurt me these past couple of months was you", you declared, sniffling and, finally, looking into Lando's swollen and tear-filled eyes.

The tears Lando has been holding back fell. He was angry with himself, at how he had done the one thing he promise not to do to you. He made you hurt, he was the reason you were in pain and he couldn't keep you from feeling it.

"I wish I could tell you there was a reason behind it and that it all has some justification, but there isn't and I can't lie to you. I was propelled from the results and the promise that this could be our year - my year - and everything else faded away. I know it's not any help, but I'm not proud of what I did, and definitely not proud of the way I made you hurt - I wish I could turn back time and do it differently", Lando confessed.

"I needed you, Lando", she bit back.

Lando couldn't find any words after that and once you began eating the now cold panini, he followed your movements, granting you the quietest meal you ever shared with him. Lando was playful, loud, cheery and giggly on any other day. As much as it nagged you that your words were the ones to dim that light, you had to put yourself first. Someone had to.

"Can we walk along the marina?", Lando asked once you finished eating, earning your nod to his surprise.

You both get up, Lando paying for your meal at the front before you left the establishment. You walked along, looking at the luxurious boats and yachts before you found a part of the wall that you was comfortable enough to sit on, remaining in silence as you watched a couple of people unlock their yachts and sailing away.

Lando wanted to say something, to prove to you that he was sorry and that he still loves you more than anything, but the fear of saying the wrong thing and hurting you even deeper was not something he wanted to risk.

"You're going to break up with me, aren't you?", Lando voiced the biggest worry on his mind since he left his apartment.

"I walked here, so I had time to think about all of this, and all I could think was that I was going to meet you there, be reminded of all the pain you made me feel, and then we wouldn't see a solution to this. And on my way here, it got harder because I passed by the shop where we always go for croissants, and then that park where I tripped and you carried me home because of my bruised knee even though I could walk just fine, the bench where that lady asked if Mila was our daughter when your brother visited. And when I arrived at the café and saw you, I knew there was no way I could do it", you half smiled.

"I struggled to see what was happening, and I didn't see what was clearly in front of me, and I know I can't undo all of the crap that I've made", Lando pointed out, "but I can say that I love you, Y/N. I love you even more than when I asked you to be my girlfriend, which I never thought was possible, but everyday I love you a little bit more. I know I won't be able to love anyone the way I love you and, honestly, I'm not sure who I am without you, because I've turned into a person I don't recognise anymore and I'm afraid that if I don't have you around, this is the real me, and I don't like it. You make me a better person - since day one! I'll love you forever, but I also understand that you don't need this pressure in your life and that you want us to be over. I deserve that", Lando mumbled.

As much as the idea of not being with you hurt him, he knew it didn't equate to the pain he caused you hence why he deserved it if you dumped him.

"You're making it so hard", your groaned rubbing your temples, "It would have been so much easier if you had told me that you didn't care about this, that you didn't care about me anymore".

"That's never going to happen, Y/N", Lando assured you.

"It would be so much easier if I told you to fuck yourself off, wouldn't it?", you chuckled and Lando got to see a small glimpse of the world's best smile, "but I can't do it - I do think, though, that we need to take some time, for both of us to work on our own things", you suggested.

"I get it, you can have all the time and space you need, Y/N", Lando nodded, "would it be too much to ask if I asked you for another shot?", he wondered as you quirked an eyebrow, "I know you just asked me for some time, and I'll give it to you, but I'm not going to let you entertain the thought that I don't care about you or that I don't love you any longer. I'm still the same person you met all those years ago and I want to remind you why you fell in love with me in the first place - if that's even the case", he blurted, "please".

"Slow steps, okay?", you mused with a small small.

"Is it still the case?", Lando picked up where he left off, "are you still in love with me?".

"If I wasn't in love with you and if I didn't love you, trust me, I wouldn't be here", you smiled, squeezing his hand in yours on top of the warm stone.

Over the last couple of days, you felt lighter. University was finally over for the semester and you could rest, and the whole situation with Lando was better. Even though it hurt to tell him all of those things and see his reaction, and even if Lando still had a lot to make up for, you had to admit you didn't expect to feel like this right away. The right path was being trailed and you couldn't feel more at peace with it.

So far, he kept his respectful distance, which didn't mean that you didn't know he was there. Two days after you met him in the marina, Lando sent you a bunch of flowers to your doorstep, your mother being the one to bring them up to your bedroom since she was arriving from work as the delivery man was about to knock on the door, smirking when she saw who it was from.

You were getting ready to go out for a picnic with Lando. The sunny day invited you to go out and Lando seemed to think the same, sending you a quick text with the location and plan ideas.

"Where are you off to?", your mother asked as she noticed you looking for your hat, "you look very nice, dear".

"Lando invited me for a picnic", you offered her a smile despite the butterfly feeling on your tummy.

"I'm glad you're working things out, Y/N - I know how much you care about him. And even if he hurt you, he's doing the work to get you back - a lot of men would just give up, but not Lando", your mother nudged. She always liked him despite her initial concerns when he moved up the racing ladder and the toll it would take on you. For a brief moment, she was upset that she had been right, but she never lost the hope that the young man dating her daughter would fight for them and for her. For you.

"I'm not sure how long I'll be out, but if I'm not home for dinner, don't worry too much", you added, waving at her before closing the door.

You drove yourself to the park, politely declining Lando's offer to pick you up. As you followed the directions, you spotted Lando under one of the trees, seemingly battling with the corner of the picnic blanket.

"Hey, need help with that?", you called as you approached him, noticing his flustered face at getting caught.

"Hey! It's fine, it's fine", he dusted off his shorts, "I didn't fold the corner properly, never mind iron this", he grumbled.

"We're going to sit on it, I don't think we needed it ironed", you smiled, setting your small backpack on the blanket and occupying the space that wasn't covered with glass containers and pape bags, noticing the logo of your favourite bakery and the sweets shop near Lando's apartment.

"So, I baked these - who knew my oven works, hm?", he joked as he pulled out some granola bars that smelled delicious, "Jon did give me the recipe, but I made them! He says they don't have any harmful raw ingredients in them so there's no danger if they're not cooked properly".

"You could've told me to bring something too", you sighed, "you had all this trouble and I'm just going to sit here and eat it", you reasoned.

"I think we've gathered that I deserve all this trouble, even though I didn't mind doing it - I think I finally get it when people say they find baking relaxing, even if I just threw some oats and syrup on a bowl with nuts and chocolate", Lando shrugged.

You smiled at his antics, "this looks lovely, Lan - thank you", before you grabbed a paper napkin to grab the food.

Lando's heart did a little backflip at the pet name - when he thought about it, he can't remember the last time you called him anything other than his name.

He wiped the thought away as he noticed you get one of the paper bags, "It was no trouble, but I did have to make sure the lady at the pastry shop knew I was the next in line because there was this lady, you should've seen her, she was, like, eighty? I don't know, maybe more than that, and she was very posh and very proper and she was trying to cut in line! Then she started saying something in French and I was like 'no can do, madam! I need to get these croissants for my girlfri- for Y/N because they're her favourites' - I bet she wanted to get them first but I did!", he dramatised the scene, earning your loud laugh. How much he missed that sound.

"Seems like it was a little troublesome, though", you teased. Inside your chest, your heart beat fast at his efforts.

"You're worth it", he smiled before taking a bite of the granola bar, "not to toot my own horn, but for someone who eats pre-prepared meals, this is amazing! Try these!", he offered, forming a shell with his hand before he brought it up to your mouth.

For anyone else, this would be just another set of cute behaviours, but for you, it carried a sense of intimacy you hadn't felt in a while. Taking a bite of it and chewing, you had to admit the balance of the nutty taste and the chocolate was on point, "it is good, Lan! You should make granola bars more often - might even make a side business out of it!", you smiled.

"Charles has some ice-cream, there's alcohol from the other guys too - me? Granola bars", he smiled, eating the rest of it and looking at you. He would never be stupid again. He would never take you for granted. Never ever.

The conversation flowed once you started eating, mainly pointing out the new swings in the park or the pretty blooms that were showing up, and even though you weren't acting like you would had it not happened, it was comfortable and Lando had definitely put some effort into this.

"Thank you for this, Lando", you smiled after you helped him clean up the supplies, making sure he wouldn't have any spills and trouble taking the rest home.

"It's alright, really", Lando mumbled as blood rushed to his cheeks, "it wasn't much, but I wanted to make sure you remembered I'm still in and that I love you more than anything", he smiled, closing the basket and getting up with it to walk back to the car, "which actually brings me to an invite I want to make you", he went back to mumbling again.

The invite was a risk, he knew it. After all, it was the reason that got your relationship here in the first place. Yet, he wanted you there and he thought it would be good. Adding to it, it would be the way that he could make sure he was able to see you as it would be a busy day.

"What is it?", you asked as you walked with him.

"The day after tomorrow, we're going karting - Max and P are coming over for a few days, they arrive tomorrow - and I was wondering if you wanted to join us", he invited, "I know it's not the best environment to be in given al-", he started rambling.

"I'd love to go, Lando", you assured, touching his arm confortingly, "I might need a ride though, if you don't mind doing the detour", you pointed out.

"It's fine, of course we'll pick you up!", he smiled, happy and excited at your answer.

"That's me", you nodded to your mother's car, unlocking it with the key, "thank you so much for this, Lan, I appreciate it a lot", you smiled, raising your stance so you could kiss his cheek, "will you text me the details when you know, please?".

"Yes! Absolutely!", he gave you a big smile again, "until then, Y/N!", he waved.

As Lando walked back to his car, there was an extra spring up on his step, a new found energy and a smile that insisted on not disappearing from his lips.

Little by little, he was slowly getting you back.

"Why are we going this way?", Max asked as Lando took the first exit on the roundabout, "isn't the track that way?".

Lando couldn't contain his smile, "we're going to pick Y/N up first".

Max and Pietra exchanged a look before rhe blonde woman spoke up, "you finally came to your senses?".

"P!", Max scolded.

"It's alright, Max - she's not wrong", Lando added, "but yes, I have, and I'm working on it, respecting her but making sure she knows how much I regret it, how sorry and how bad I feel that it happened and how I'm trying my hardest to make sure it does happen again", Lando turned around once he stopped at the red light, "Thank you for looking after her when I didn't, P. I know you have been a good friend to her, so thank you for that", he added.

"She didn't deserve what you did to her, but I'm happy you figured it out and that you're working on it - I don't say it too often, but if you two ever broke up, I would consider that true love isn't a thing, what you two have is something else entirely", she smiled.

"Excuse me?!", Max dramatised, "what did you just say?".

"Did I lie, Max? Who was it that came home in a nervous fit without any fingernails because they bit all of them off after Lando realised what happened? The same person who couldn't even sleep because of it? Who was it, hm?", she quesioned her boyfriend.

Lando chuckled at his friends, thinking that they really had been made for one another, "you two make me look like the sanest person inside this car", he shook his head, pressing the pedal and turning into your street.

There you were, the person he was sure was made for him too. Your outfit was simple, consisting of black jeans, black trainers, a shirt sleeve polo and a cardigan on your arm.

"Hi guys!", you greeted, getting inside the car and kissing Pietra's cheek before putting your seatbelt on.

"Why don't I get a kiss?", Max pouted.

"Because you stink, that's why", Lando chirped in, "all ready to go back there?", he mused, sending you a wink from the rear view mirror.

Blushing, you nodded before looking at Pietra again, accepting her hand in yours as she gave it a squeeze. For the whole drive to the track, you engaged light conversation, mainly listening to the plans they had for the clips they were filming before they raced eachother since you and P would happily drive around in the karts just to pass the time.

For the first segment, you stayed on the stands, watching the team get the equipment ready.

"How have you been, Y/N?", Pietra asked as she handed you a bottle of water she had gone to her and taking a sip of her own.

"I've been well - university is finally done with and I can actually have a thought that doesn't involve it", you giggled, "and Lando is home", you offered.

"Now, I wasn't going to be so blunt, but that is the subject I wanted to get at", she raised her eyebrows playfully.

"He's... Goodness, he's Lando again, my Lando", you sighed happily, "surely, it still stings a little and we need to work through our issues, but we're trailing our way through them. Learning our ways together - it's a bit like falling in love again and it's such a good feeling", you blushed at your admission, "it's doing us well and we're going with it, and not out of it", you smiled.

"Y/N", Pietra cooed, "you have no idea how make that makes me! It's so good to see you so happy and hopeful", she squeezed your arm, "I was ready to avenge you on him, by the way, Max did us both a favour in telling him, because I was sure what I wanted to do to Lando was considered a crime and I'm a good person", she raised her hands defensively.

Once the boys were done, Max waved at you to come down and meet them, giving them the time to get your equipment ready.

"Come here, I need to make sure you don't fly out of your kart this time", Max called his girlfriend after she was fully equipped to go on the single seater.

You finished the makeshift hairstyle before you looked for the helmet, finding it in Lando's hands, "come here, big head, I'll help you put it on", he smiled.

As you approached him, you could see his sudden nervousness at having you so close to him, hands setting the helmet on top of your head and then pulling in on, "Look who's talking", you mumbled quickly before it was all the way in, his fingers gingerly touching your neck as he did the strap buckle.

"All good for our speed daredevils?", Max joked, getting an instant slap from Pietra before he got up.

"Does it feel safe, Y/N?", Lando checked with you, making you wiggle a little to make sure you were strapped tightly enough, making you flash his two thumbs up.

"Ready, set, go!", Max yelled before you and Pietra went off, happily driving on the track despite not extracting the full potential out of the kart.

"You and Y/N seem well", Max offered as him and Lando took a break before they joined you back at the track.

"I don't think I'll ever stop feeling this guilt on my chest, it's like a weird weight that sits here and gets heavy every now and again", Lando explained, "but I think we're going in the right direction, and I'm going to spend every day of our lives making sure it never happens again. Y/N will never doubt my love or affection for her. I just want to make her happy now that she knows I know how much I screwed us up".

"I'm proud of you, man", Max tapped his back.

"You're what?", Lando asked, a little flustered at his bestfriends words.

"I'm proud of you, Lando - you're dealing with this in such a good way! I'm not saying I doubted you would, but seeing you actually do it and make it happen in such a grown up, loving and accountability filled way makes me proud of who you became. As much as I joke about it, what P said in the car was true - you and Y/N are it. Whenever I think about what endgame is, you two are the first thing that comes to mind", he admitted.

"Thanks, mate", Lando replied earnestly.

After a couple of laps from you, you saw the boys joining you in the track, making you assure that whenever they lapped you, you made a Mario Kart like noise, always managing to get a smile and a headshake from Lando and Max.

Once you were done, Max and Pietra volunteered to take all of the supplies back to the storage room.

"Did you enjoy your day, Y/N?", Lando asked as he approached you.

Surprising him, you nodded before you hugged him, "I haven't been this happy in a long time", you cuddled him, letting your head rest on his chest and letting yourself feel enveloped by his arms after the initial shock wore off.

"I'm glad", Lando uttered out before he composed himself, "I just want you to know that I could fulfill all your dreams and that there I'll never do anything to hurt you again. I'm well aware of all shit I've done and put you through, and how accountable I am for it. I just want to make you happy", he chuckled, "I don't want anything else in this world other than to make you happy, to show you how much I love you and that I want make this work, I want to make us work", he let out in such a serious and intense tone that you could feel a knot forming your throat, "you were my first love and I want you to be my last, Y/N".

"Lan...", you gasped softly, "I know it hasn't been good for you, but I just need a little bit more time to put it behind me, once for all", you added.

"I know, and that's alright", he mumbled against the top of your head, "I just wanted you to know that it is coming straight from my heart - everything I do, I do it for you", plucking up the courage to press a kiss there.

You closed your eyes and basked in the feeling, "two Bryan Adams references in the same sentence from the guy who used to DJ? You impress me, Lando Norris", you giggled and teased him playfully, feeling the rubble from his own laugh on his chest.

"I'll make sure to impress you everyday that we're alive, Y/N Y/L/N", he promised.

And he intended to keep it.

Lando invited you to his apartment for a cosy night in, thinking the plans over and over while he waited for you to arrive.

The delivery service was faster than he expected so he wrapped the takeout boxes in all of the kitchen towells he had so they would help retain the heat while you weren't there yet.

The whole apartment was tidy, he had your favourite blanket on the sofa and the TV had your favourite shows ready to stream in the background as you hopefully shared a comforting meal.

Your acceptance to come to his place made Lando feel very pleased with the way you were trailing in your relationship. He had been able to correct his mistakes and make you happy again. Even though there had been moments where he seemed to forget, he now knew that you had always been and will always be a priority in his life. He had never been in love with anyone else, and he was sure he would always be in love with you until his last breath.

A knock on his door pulled him out of his thoughts, heading up to the door to open it, "Hello hello! Come in", he gestured as you stepped inside, pecking his lips on the way - a few days prior, you had kissed him out of nowhere when you went to the bookshop and you swore he looked like a cartoon, all wide eyes and blushy cheeks.

Lando assured you you wouldn't leave the house and it would be just the two of you, so you hadn't bothered to put together a proper outfit, opting to wear a pair of leggings and an old Quadrant hoodie.

"I wasn't sure if I should bring anything, so I stopped by the sweets shop to get some of these hard candies, apparently they're very trendy now", you giggled sweetly as you set the bag on his hands so you could take your trainers off.

"You didn't have to, but thanks! We'll do a taste test after dinner - which is here by the way", he guided you to the living room.

Unravelling the mountain of kitchen towells, he had you sit down before he opened the containers, handing you a plate after you chose a bit of each of the dishes he ordered, "thank you, Lan", you smiled, sitting criss-cross on the sofa and waiting for him to do the same before you started eating.

"These are really good, have you tried them? They're new on their menu and when the guy explained it to me, I thought you'd like it", he pointed to one of the bite sized pieces.

"They are! They're not too heavy on the seasoning and they're really nice when you dip them in this sauce - try it!", you offered him the small cup.

"Is this going to be like the time you made me dip my spring rolls in that other sauce you claimed was the best thing in the world?", he asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just try it, Lan!", you insisted, getting one from your plate, dipping it in the sauce and taking it up to Lando's mouth, your hand under the chopsticks in case some of it fell on his clothes.

Lando chewed it before nodding and humming in satisfaction, "is it good", he admitted with a smile after he wiped his lips.

Once you finished eating, you helped Lando bring everything back to the kitchen, saving the leftovers on his fridge, washing the plates and putting them away.

"You didn't have to help, I could've done it myself", Lando nudged before he laced your hand in his and pulled you back to the living room, "do you want to watch something?", he asked.

"There's this new Disney movie I haven't watched if you're up for it - or any of the shows we usually watch, I'm not picky", you answered quickly.

"Disney it is", he smiled sitting down and resting his arm on the back of the sofa, hoping you'd sit next to him and cuddle him.

You shuffled around before grabbing the fluffy blanket, pulling it over your legs and tentatively closing the distance between you, taking the plunge and taking a spot on his chest.

Once the movie was playing, Lando's arm dropped to wrap around you, lulling you closer to him and rubbing your arm.

"I can hear you thinking, and I'm sure you're not thinking about that little goat", you nodded to the screen.

"I'm watching the movie, I swear - and he's quite funny actually! He's also Mila's favourite character, at least he was last week", Lando chuckled, "but I was also thinking about us", he admitted.

"You were?", you turned to look up at him, wanting to know more.

"You do know I will apologize for what I did until the end of our lives, don't you?", Lando reflected out loud.

"Lando, stop it, it's forgiven and forgotten", you offered.

"Is it really?", he asked, a small smile breaking his way into his lips.

"It is, it's behind us now", you kissed his clothed chest.

"I will never forget it, though. It doesn't matter how many times you tell me to forget it or that you've forgiven me", he let out a shaky sigh, "I don't think I will, I hate myself for what did to you, the hurt that I caused you".

"Lando, let's not talk about it right now - not now, not ever. It's a part of our story, yes, and we learned from it, but I don't want to to remember every day. We are good now, and I don't want you to torture yourself with something that is out of your reach and that you can't change", you told him sternly, now sitting back against the sofa so you can face your boyfriend, "Promise me we won't mention this again, Lando".

"You're right", Lando agrees, "Okay, you're right, I promise, Y/N", he stated with a smile.

Your delicate lips peck his quickly before you go in for a second kiss, longer and more intense this time, and you both got lost in eachother.

You couldn't change what happened, but you could learn from it and work everyday to make sure it never happened again.

Lando was crazy about you, about who he was when was with you and how you made him feel, and you felt the same way about him.

"I love you, Lando", you smiled after you pulled away, resting your forehead in his.

"I love you forever, Y/N", he whispered, sealing his promise with a peck and bracing himself, "I'm never taking you for granted, and maybe this is a big gesture and I'm not sure how much this fits our new way - new patch? It's not a patch if we want it to last forever, right? - anyway, I would like to ask you to move in with me", Lando stated, "it doesn't have to be tomorrow or right away, we'll do it when you're ready! I just- I spend so much time of the year away as it is, and I don't want to cut the short time even shorter when it comes to you, so this way we'll be together for a bit longer - even if it's just at nightime and we can intertwine our legs or I can warm up the bed for you", he rambled on and you were sure he wouldn't stop anytime soon.

"Hey, hey! Lando, baby", you cupped his face with your hands, "look at me", you smiled as you straddled his lap, your thighs on each side of his and keeping you from fully sitting on him, "good now?".

"Well, since you're already there - sit, please", Lando added before he allowed himself to stress about your answer.

"I don't want to squash you", you mumbled.

Laying his hands in your thighs, he pulled you down, "I said sit down", he spoke sternly despite the playful glint on his eyes, "it's my home after all, I get to make the rules".

"Oh, I thought it was our home, but maybe I misread th-", your playfulness was cut short as your boyfriend flipped you around, your back hitting the soft sofa cushion with a yelp.

"You're moving in? For real?", he asked.

"Yes, baby, I'm moving in", you cupped his cheek, pulling him for a kiss, "I love you".

"My love, I'm going to spend everyday reminding you how beautiful, how strong", he started kissing your face with every word, "how kind, how amazing, how sexy, how hot, how smart, how kind, how incredible you are", he stopped just above your lips, "how all mine you are - I love you Y/N, forever", before he kissed your lips.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff #f1 angst #ln4 x reader

798 notes · View notes

deadhands69 · 1 month ago

Text

Something More [than each other]

Katsuki Bakugo x gn reader

MDNI

Setting: fuckboy!Bakugo, mid-time skip, Senior Year of College. Reader did not attend UA high, just joined for university. Enemies to lovers (with a lot in between.)

Warnings, etc: smut, angst!!!, light violence/injuries, drinking/intoxication, vomiting, swearing.

[sorry, you’re a mess in this one - i'll make it up in the next one, i promise!]

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - this is part 7 - part 8

“[y/n]”

Your name in his voice haunted your dreams and followed you through the day well after you’d woken-up. Such a small thing to mean so much. Maybe you’re overthinking it, you have to be. People say things they don't mean to during sex all the time. Especially when they've had a bit to drink.

It's not like that though, this is different.

Katsuki Bakugo had never used your real name before, opting to call you ‘Backfire’ based on your quirk or some other rude nickname he came up with on the spot. If he hadn't added it to the top of a project the two of you submitted together, you could have assumed he didn't even know your full name. Even after sleeping with him for a month you still weren’t on a first name basis.

That is, until last night.

The memory is etched into your mind. Living rent free, playing on repeat.

“[y/n],” he moaned in your ear moments before whimpering into your neck as he finished. His face lingered on your shoulder, soft lips grazing your skin while he panted to catch his breath. Typically, he moved quickly. One of you being out the door of the other's room within five minutes. Last night he took his time, arms wrapped around you even after you'd both recovered. Eventually, he kissed the back of your neck, cleaned himself up a bit, and left - forgetting his hoodie on your bed.

(Like someone who is normal and totally not obsessed,) you've picked apart every detail of the night for signs of meaning. It all comes back to your name. Over and over and over again.

Nothing else exists.

Of course, you want to ask someone for advice but you haven't told anyone yet. When you tried to, it felt too personal. Also, with your friends reminiscing about their cute dates it felt weird asking them to decipher the significance of your friend with benefit’s moans. A friend they'd known since high school. Too awkward.

You couldn't even talk to Bakugo for a reaction, because he left this morning. His part time side-kick job requires him to travel sometimes. He'll be in another country the whole week and you don't think he even has cell service. It's just you now. You, here alone in your room with his voice stuck in your head.

You want to text him every time you're thinking of him, but don't want him to be overwhelmed when his flight lands and the messages come flooding in.

This is a totally normal way to feel about a friend you tell yourself while laying face down, clutching his sweatshirt in the bed he fucked you in last night.

A week later, and you still can't get him out of your head. Your closest friends have been keeping an eye on you more than usual, although they don't know the whole story. Being the only people (as far as you know) who know about your "situation" with him, they both assume you're distant this week because of his absence.

If only they knew.

In any case, Jiro and Mina are heading to a party tonight and you decide to tag along. It'll be good to get out for a bit. Quickly throwing on something cute, you don't make too much of an effort because Bakugo only just returned so he's likely jet lagged and going to bed early. You saw him out your window a bit earlier, looking tired and pretty roughed up. Tomorrow you'll reach out. For now, let him rest for the night. He needs it.

In the lobby, you meet up with your friends before leaving. Kiri texted Mina that Bakugo would be there as well. Your heart jumps more than you'd like to admit at that. The three of you almost wait for them but Kaminari wants to make a beer stop on the way so you agree you'll see them all there shortly. Everyone seems to be preparing to go harder than most nights.

There will be no crazy partying for you though.

Professor Aizawa was nice enough to offer to train with you in the morning, making space in his busy schedule. You’ve been struggling with expanding the reach of your quirk and mentioned it to him in passing. Much to your surprise, he’d offered to help. In spite of what Katsuki Bakugo believes, you absolutely do not have a crush on your teacher but he’s been your favorite hero since you were a little kid and you can’t pass the opportunity.

Speaking of Bakugo, you see Sero and Kaminari. Where is he?

This house is massive. You begin wandering around the party in search of a tall blonde, he should stand out. The living room is dimly lit but you finally spot his messy hair. And he's-

Suddenly, you wish you hadn't seen him. In a dark corner, he's letting himself be pressed into the wall by a random girl you'd never seen before. His hand on her shoulder, staring down into her eyes making that awful lovesick face.

Fuck.

Being stabbed in the heart might have felt better. You stumble out the door of the house, the contents of your stomach begging to escape. A quick visit to the bushes gains the attention of a very worried Jiro, but you're determined to get out of there. You can explain it to her later (considering how hesitant she still is of your situation, she'll completely understand.)

Carelessly, you slam straight into Shinso. His purple gaze looking you over to make sure you’re okay. There’s some unspoken communication between him and your friend before he decides to get you home safely. You know you’re completely sober but by the way you’re behaving, eyes glazed over and stumbling, no one else does. Nor would they believe it if you pressed the issue. You don’t fuss about it, simply following him on autopilot.

You’re not here though, your brain is a million miles away being forcefully wrenched from some universe where you and Bakugo had any chance together.

He’s not yours, you know that.

He’s not anyone’s. He doesn’t do that sort of thing.

You know it was just physical. Just for fun.

You know it shouldn’t be a big deal.

You know.

Then why does this hurt so bad?

Shinso grabs your wrist, helping you narrowly avoid tripping over a curb. Still, you can’t be bothered to pay attention to your surroundings.

Your heart hurts. You just want to be home in bed, but even that doesn't sound comfortable. Nothing and nowhere will make you feel better. And what's worse, you let this happen. You shouldn't have spent the last week daydreaming about someone you should have known doesn't care about you like that.

You told him you wanted more fun in your life and, feeling guilty, he gave you that. What was it he said at the beginning of the term, that you needed to get laid but no one pitied you enough to? Then he had reason to feel bad and proceeded to sleep with you. Maybe you should have listened to him when he told you who he was. Let's face it: you chose the wrong person to care for.

The boy with his hand around your arm is so fucking nice, why can’t you just like him?

Or anyone else? Or better yet, no one?

Before you know it, you’re sobbing. Concern creeps over the violet haired boy’s face, having been prepared to keep you safe physically, not knowing to expect this. He brings his face level with yours and asks if you’re okay. You don’t respond.

Because you’re not okay.

You want your life to go back to when you were happy just being alone. Before you knew what it was like to be close to Katsuki Bakugo. Before you let him get too close.

[sorry this one is so short! it made the most sense to end this part here. i won't leave you hanging too long though - part 8 will be up very soon. it's the final part, switching between Bakugo’s perspective and yours]

part 8 m.list

Taglist: @anonymity-222 @k1tk4tkatsuki @arsonfrogger @dragonscribble @kalulakunundrum

@screaming-dough @rikislove @gold24fish @ita606 @arc6021

@pikachuzhc @jeanbabygirl @nemisimp

190 notes · View notes

shomixremix · 9 months ago

Text

Dates they like ♡︎

okay so i just found out that in version 4.5 there will be an itto AND a neuvillette banner (christmas came early) so i will gt a chance to pull for neuvi and even though i already have c2 arataki, c3 can't hurt hehe

I'M SO EXCITED!! i immediatelly had to write something for the both of them!!

i'd love to hear some of your ideas so feel free to request!!

tags: Itto, Neuvillette, Thoma, Wriotheslay, female! reader, fluff, kissing, smut, overstimulation, riding, pussyeating

-> your boyfriend would love to spend time with you anywhere and doing anything, yet he does have his preferences on how to spend that time. all dates with you are always amazing, but there's always that one activity he likes the most.

reqs open ♡︎ | minors DNI

-> itto

"itto! stop moving so much, you'll smudge them!" you exclaim as you paint the oni's nails. he stills immediately, watching as you paint his left thumb a beautiful, crimson color.

"sorry, love bug! i just wanted a kiss, sweets, you look so freakin' good and i need to let my baby know she's fuckin' gorgeous!" he exclaims through a roar, throwing his arms around you. you screech at him:

"ITTO! your nails!"

his eyes turn wide as he pulls his hands back quickly, giving you an apologetic smile.

"oh, shit, sorry baby! i'll be good, i swear, i'll stay still and quiet, i promise. oni's honor and word!"

you smile as your boyfriend really does keep his word and stills, allowing you to paint more efficiently.

"there, all done! want the gold sparkly top coat, hon?"

"uhh, duh! 'f course i do, baby! gotta be nice and shiny, like you, yeah?"

painting nails in the comfort of your home in inazuma city was always one of itto's favorite dates. with snacks prepared, you two would spend hours in each other's arms with you just painting his sharp claws. then, you'd let him paint yours - even though you would always have to fix them later. sometimes, when he would ask, you'd paint his horns, which you were pretty sure he only asked you to do so you'd sit on his lap.

"there! all done, babe! you like them, arataki?" you smile as he pulls you into his arms, twirling you around in the air like you were weightless.

"hell yeah, love bug! i love 'em! and i love you too, sweets! thanks for doing this f' me. now c'mere so i can kiss those pretty lips"

♡︎

one of his favorite parts of having freshly done nails, on both you and him, was how good they looked sliding against bare skin.

"mmm.. yeah, yeah! that's good, s' fuckin' good, yeah? yeahhh, you just keep on scratching your pretty little nails down my back, yeah, baby? shit, sweets... just like that, fuck!" he groaned into your skin as he fucked you into your matress. your arms roamed his big back and shoulders, gently caressing him with your newly painted nails. you left scratch marks, clawing at his skin with every hard thrust he pumped in you.

his own newly-painted claws slid down to the fat of your ass, greedily kneeding and squeezing everywhere. the sounds echoing of the walls of your bedroom are lewd yet make your mind spin.

"ohhhh, itto! itto, baby, feels so freakin' good! mhphh!" you moan as he fucks you like there's no tomorrow, his fat cock bullying that one spot inside you that made you see stars. your hands run to his hair, pleasantly scratching his skull with your messily-painted matching red nails. he groans at this, his hips stuttering as his pumps get sloppier.

"mmhh, fuck!" he mutters as he suddenly loses his composure and messily comes, fucking you through it with desparate little thrusts. he falls on you in exhaustion, enjoying how you still soothe him with your hands.

"mphhr, love bug.." he melts under your touches, still overly sensitive from his orgasm. you coo praises in his ear as you continue comforting him, his hands soothing your bare skin in return.

archons, he loves those nails.

-> neuvillette

"am i... doing this correctly?" he asks unsurely, gently gathering your hair in his palms and twisting it around.

"heh, no, love. you need to separate three strands and than braid" you say gently, sitting with your legs crossed just a little in front of him. neuvillette hesitates for a moment, still just gently petting your head.

"could you show me again, mon amour?"

you knew damn well that was just an excuse for you to play with his long, silver hair as you braid it. you still did it, of course, never the one to deny your boyfriend pets and cuddles. you knew that playing with his hair has always been one of his favorite past-time activities.

his long hair flowed against your fingertips like a river, strong and yet beautiful. you tangled your hands in it, massaging his skull a little. finally, you separate it in three thick strands and start gently braiding.

"mmm" he hummed, immensily enjoying your touches, "i must admit this hairstyle looks quite nice, mon cherie. you will have to do my hair everyday for court trails"

you chuckle, finishing his braid and tying it with a blue ribbon.

"sure, neuvi, if that's what you'd like"

you turn to face him, sitting in front of him.

"would you like to try now?"

he smiles, placing a feathery kiss on your neck as he removed your hair from it.

"sure"

♡︎

there were multiple reasons why neuvillete loved when you would play with or braid his long hair and when he would play with yours, and one of them was that he could pull on it during your love making.

"mhhhphhr.." you mewl as he's got you on all fours, pounding into you from the back and keeping a tight grip on your hair, which was braided messily by his inexperienced hands.

"mh, fuck, little one, you feel incredible.."

he'd hold onto your hair tight, thrusting hard and slow inside so you'd feel every inch of him. sometimes he'd pull you back by your hair, like a leash, you thought, but only when you move and squirm too much. then, once he pulls on it just enough to get you to arch your back and never too much to hurt you, he'd bottom out inside you and let out a pleasured sigh.

he really loved your hair.

but he also really loved you pulling on his.

when he was in between your plushy thighs, face buried in your folds and pleasuring you endlessly, you'd tangle your fingers in his soft hair and try to pull him closer but push him away in the same time from how good it felt.

"ahh! neuvi! ohhh, neuvi~!"

and when you'd finally finish with an ego-rising scream of his name, allowing him to taste all of your sweetness and squeeze him real tight, that's when neuvillette felt the greatest.

-> thoma

"welcome home, babe!" your boyfriend chirped as you entered your shared home, surprised to see a fully made dinner on the table.

"oh, hey, hon! what's all this?" you ask, setting down your bag and removing your shoes as you walk to him.

"nothing, i just thought to surprise you with a few of your favorite dishes! i finished all of my work early in the kamisato estate, so i thought i could do something nice for you!"

you throw your arms around the blonde's neck, kissing his cheek.

"aww, thoma, sweetie, you didn't have to!" he laughs and rubs his neck humbly as you praise him, big green eyes watching you take in the table filled with many delicious meals - including his famous rice cake soup.

"mmmm... this all looks and smells amazing! i can't wait to try it all!"

he smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"well you know food is my love language!"

it was true - more than anything, thoma liked showing you how much he cared for you through delicious meals he'd prepare for the both of you, when you could just eat and chatter the night away.

♡︎

even though he loved preparing you dinners to eat, he loved having you for desert even more. good lord barbados, you were the single most delicious thing he ever tasted...

"mmmphhh..." he moaned into your needy pussy as he ate you out like a man starved, physically unable to move. thoma was truly a pussydrunk man, addicted to the taste of your slick on his tongue.

you were spread out on your dining table with your legs far apart, with your boyfriend nestled between your slick-covered thighs that were now also covered in love-bites. your slick stuck to his chin as he ate you out, but did he care at all? no. no, he did not.

the taste of your folds in his mouth was far more important.

you couldn't imagine how much pleasure this was giving him - he could've came just by giving you oral, letting his dick make a sloppy mess of his pants even though untouched. impossibly hard and leaking precum like crazy, thoma tried releasing some of that tention by rubbing himself through his pants, whimpers and whines being sent from his mouth straight to your pretty cunt.

he sucked and sucked and kissed like you were his last meal, never wanting this to end and for you two to go to bed. actually, he did want to go to bed - but only because you'd be able to ride his face there.

and when the boiling hot knot inside you finally becomes too much and it snaps, thoma can't hold it in much longer. he greedily laps up all you give him like a dog in heat, overstimulating you as his tongue fucks way after you've already came down from your high. at the feeling of your cum in his mouth thoma comes as well, shooting rope after rope of white in his own pants, a little ashamed of the fact. his hips rut into the air as if he's trying to help himself through it or at least to stop - but he can't, he can't stop coming, not when you taste that good.

-> wriotheslay

"the weather is so nice today..." he hummed as he held your hand, lazily lounging on the checkered blanket.

as the duke of the fortress of meropide, wriotheslay rarely gets to go out and experience the warmth of the sun or the falling of the rain. which is exactly why outdoor dates were always his favorite - doing anything with you, his favorite person, while feeling the fresh air and the gentle breeze was his idea of best-spent time.

"sure is" you laugh, dressed only in your swimsuit as you lounge with your lover on a secret, deserted beach in the beryl region. it was always so private and quiet here, perfect for a couple desperately in need of intimacy...

"wrio, honey..."

"hm?"

"we should really do this more often... i missed having you like this..." you mumble in his skin as you lounge on his bare chest, pressing lazy kisses up his jaw and neck.

wriotheslay snickers, caressing your back with the tips of his fingers.

"i agree, doll. trust me, if i could, i'd never leave here, yeah? just you and me, forever..."

you sigh, reminded again how busy the both of you were. your boyfriend notices, getting up with you in his arms.

"wanna swim now, baby?"

♡︎

but when you return from the water, wet and your bodies pressed tight against each other, wriotheslay can't help but not sit you on his lap on your warmed blanket, sinking himself inside you inch by inch. once he bottoms out he lays back, one hand behind his head and the other holding your hip.

"you know what to do, doll"

you nod eagerly, your palms on his chest for support as you start to sink down on him hard and fast, trying to fuck yourself on his cock.

"there you go... ahh, fuck, baby..." he moans at how you take him and your chest swells in pride.

you whimper and mewl at how good he feels as his hands soothe your sides, comforting you from the slight stretch of his fat cock in your tight pussy.

"can't... wrio... too much..!" you complain with quivering lips, yet he doesn't make any effort to stop, bouncing you on his lap.

"shhh.... i know you can, doll, you've had me inside so many times, and it always fits. try a little harder, baby"

you give it your all to thrust back on his cock but nothing helps until he rolls his hips into yours, finally helping you. soon it all becomes far too much and you cry out, falling on his chest as you tighten and spasm around him while you come. wriotheslay quickly follows, filling you up untill you're shaking from the overstimulation in his arms.

something about outdoor dates, especially outdoor sex, drove him wild.

471 notes · View notes

frenchkisstheabyss · 7 months ago

Text

⛧𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸𝙸𝙸⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's been two weeks since that fateful night your crushes revealed their killer hobby to you. You promise yourself you'll never look back but your ties to each other can't be severed so easily. Especially not when your own gruesome urges begin to creep in and an unexpected visitor gives you the perfect opportunity to set them free. Do you have it in you to resist or are you destined to return to them?

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

⛧ Warnings: horror elements, masturbation (f w/ vibrator), blood, violence (none between you 3 though. you psychos love each other too much), someone breaks into reader's house w/ short fight scene after, erotic homicidal urges, dead bodies, strong language, you become a killer bby girl, suggestive convos, everyone gets kinda sentimental, & that's all.

⛧ A/N: I'm such a spooky girl at my core (it's where my writing roots are) so it's been fun writing this dark comedy/romance and I love you forever if you're joining this quite odd ride with me.

Also thank youuu @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 and @lxsunshine for asking to be tagged! I've never really had a tag list but if anyone else wants to be, totally let me know! 🖤

💀 <<< Rewind to Tape 1 <<< 💀

Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. You could blame it on Han and Minho for what they did but that’d be unfair wouldn’t it? What they uncovered in you—the same darkness lurking within themselves—has alway been here and it refuses to be buried again. But you try.

It’s been a long 15 minutes soaking in this bath with one leg draped over the side of the tub and your waterproof vibrator buzzing away beneath the lilac bubbles. Music plays in your headphones, ambient tunes meant to melt the tension from your body. Squeezing your eyes shut you try—you really try—to chase off intrusive visions of two sickeningly handsome psychopaths. You don’t want to remember what you saw that night but the picture’s so clear in your head that it might as well be playing out in front of you all over again.

For the few seconds that you manage to shake the thought, your vibrator feels useless. It hums against your walls with all the enjoyment of a leg that’s fallen asleep. But when the image snaps back into frame—them standing there in nearly nothing, blood dripping down their bodies—it feels heavenly. The pleasure travels through you in pulses, spreading further out the longer you indulge in your memories.

This isn’t right. You have to stop. You know you do. So do it. You can’t. Lie to yourself all you want but this is what you need. Water splashes onto the floor as your leg slips into the tub, moans dancing freely from your lips. Your heart thumps like a techno beat, battling the light music in your headphones for dominance.

The pressure in your lower belly overtakes you, dangerously close to erupting. Crashing into your high, your eyes fall open and you’re met with a face you haven’t seen in months. You open your mouth to scream but a hand is already around your throat, dragging you out of the bathtub.

“Where’s my brother?” the man shouts, the dim lighting in the bathroom only partially concealing a face twisted with rage.

You claw at his hands, nails slicing through his skin like razors. He grunts, gripping his bloody hand, and tosses you across the floor. A framed picture crashes to the floor as you hit the wall with a thud, your ears ringing at the impact. Turning to lunge at you again, he trips on the soaking wet bath mat and falls at your feet. You latch onto the toilet, struggling to pull yourself up when you’re still covered in bubbles.

“I know you know something! So tell me!” he demands, catching you by the ankle. He uses all of his strength to drag you down but you’re too slippery to hold onto.

“I don’t know where your fucking brother is!” you scream, grabbing onto the toilet tank. Tucking your fingers under the lip of the heavy lid, you pull at it as hard as you can.

“You’re lying! Either tell me what happened or I’ll make you, you fucking bi—”

Ding! You swing around and crack him in the head with the porcelain lid. He stares up, not particularly at you, his gaze empty. Everything goes dark for him, blood gushing down his head, and he’s down. High off of adrenaline, you toss on your robe and run for the phone at the end of the hall. Hands shaking, tears running down your cheeks, you pick it up to call the cops. But something stops you.

Instinct takes over and your fingers are already dialing the new number. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and find yourself fixated on the bloody skin under your nails. The line rings so many times that you almost think no one will answer.

“My baby!” Han cheers on the other end of the call, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I missed you.”

There’s some shuffling followed by Minho’s voice, “We missed you!”

You flick the skin from under your nails, smiling to yourself. “Hi boys,” you sniffle, knowing there’s no turning back, “I missed you too. You wouldn’t happen to be, uh, busy tonight would you?”

Minho feels like an old man who can’t get his dick up. It might actually be easier if he were. At least then there’d be a pill to fix what he’s going through. Ever since you walked out that door both he and Han have had the worst dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The only dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The last body they touched was your ex’s. They threw it, every last piece of it, somewhere no one would ever find him and left it at that. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

Detectives call what they’re going through a “cooling off” period. It’s the time between murders when a serial killer returns to their normal lives, biding their time until they can kill again. Poking his spoon around in a bowl of soggy cereal, a pouty Minho doubts that’ll happen any time soon. “I hate this!” he whines, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Han pushes his legs away, flopping down beside him on the couch, “Get your feet off my coffee table.”

“Meh meh meh meh meh meh meh” Minho mocks, deflating when it hits him that he can hardly enjoy picking on Han anymore.

Han scooches closer to Minho, offering him a shoulder to lay his head on. Minho takes it, feeling Han’s sadness without having to see the heartbroken look on his face. No matter how much he teases him, Han’s his best friend. They’re brothers. They understand each other like no one else can and he knows how badly Han hoped you would too.

“You wanna go to the medical history museum tomorrow?” Minho asks, calling upon all of his cuteness to make Han happy.

Han doesn’t answer but exhales a “Hmm…” that signals he might be interested.

Minho bats his eyelashes, laying it on heavy, “Come on, they have the world’s largest collection of human skulls. You know you love good head. I mean, no, wait, that didn’t…shit.” Han hangs his head, laughing so hard it makes him wheeze. “Why would you say that? Just why?”

Minho sits up, elbowing him in the side, “Fuck you. I was trying to cheer you up.”

Han throws his arms around Minho, hugging him tightly, “Stop sulking! I’ll go! Who needs a girl when you have the world’s largest collection of human skulls, ya know?”

Minho narrows his eyes, resisting the urge to fight against the hug just this once. Deep down inside, really deep, he loves it. “Exactly” he huffs, “Women are a distraction anyway. We’re better off without her.”

Ring! Ring! Ring! The sound of the phone sucks all of the air from the room and their stomachs collectively sink. In record time they’re halfway across the room, pushing each other out of the way to check the caller ID. Your name flashes on it and Han snatches it up just as Minho’s fingers graze the buttons.

Han answers the phone, almost too excited to contain himself, “My baby!” Minho folds his arms, quietly judging Han for being such a dork about this.

“I missed you” Han says, lower this time, his back turned to Minho.

What happened to not needing you? What happened to being better off without you? Oh, fuck it.

Minho steals the phone, blushing so hard his ears turn red, “We missed you.”

A minimum of six traffic laws were broken when the boys realized something had happened to you. Of course you couldn’t tell them the incriminating details over the phone. Luckily, hearing you cry was more than enough for them to stop everything and speed across the city to check on you. They really only cared about seeing you again but the presence of a possibly dead body doesn’t hurt.

In your second stroke of luck tonight, if you can call it that, you’re positive no one knows he’s here. There’s nothing on him to track him by. He came only with the tools he used to break in and a taser he no doubt intended to use on you. And there won’t be any fuss from your downstairs neighbor. She hasn’t been able to hear since 1982. All that’s left is the matter of what to do with him.

Gathered in your bathroom, the three of you stand over the body carefully watching for signs of life. Han and Minho glance at each other behind your back. They’re both wondering the same thing but don’t know how to ask. They play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. Han’s rock and he hates that for himself. Minho’s paper and he’s never been happier. Minho mouths, “Loser” and Han flips him off.

“Baby” Han says sweetly, holding your hand, “Were you and this guy, like…”

You stare at him, happy to be holding his hand but genuinely confused, “Were we?” Reading the room, you pick up on what they mean. “No, no, no! Never! This…” you say, kicking the motionless body, “Is my ex’s shithead brother. He broke in cause he wants to know where his brother is.”

Minho shrugs, pulling the belt to your bathrobe out, “Let’s make sure they’re reunited then shall we?” He wraps the belt around each hand a few times until there’s tension in the fabric and just enough room to fit a human neck. Minho sits down on the floor, positioning the man’s head in his lap. He’s ready to tighten the belt around his neck but there’s something bugging him. “Do you guys hear that?”

You all listen closely, picking up on a nearly inaudible buzzing. Han follows the sound over to the bathtub where the bubbles have long dissolved and spots the source immediately. He rolls his sleeves up and reaches into the water, pulling out your vibrator.

“Oh my god. Give it here!” you shriek, taking it and switching it off. You toss it in the cabinet under the sink, unable to handle how much they’re obviously loving this. “So, did you come at least?” Minho asks, relaxing his hold on the belt.

“I’m not answering that.”

Han’s studied you enough to tell when you’re lying. “She did! Did you think about us when you did it?”

Minho giggles, far too pleased with himself, “She did.”

“Go to hell!” you snap, getting on your knees beside Minho. You take the belt from him, winding it around your hands the same way that he did. “Show me.”

Your boldness throws them off—this is far from what they were expecting—but they don’t hesitate to guide you. Han joins you on the other side, showing you how to hold the belt properly. Minho checks the pulse before propping the body up for you. It’s weak but it’s there. It feels natural to be doing this together, like the space between them was always meant to be one you’d inhabit.

“Thanks for coming, you guys” you say, seconds from strangling a man, “Most guys won’t even buy me flowers and you risked the electric chair for me. That’s way sweet”

“You’re worth risking the electric chair for” Han coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Minho nods in agreement, kissing you on the other cheek, “Cutie.”

Your cheeks are so warm and you can’t stop yourself from smiling. You’re basically glowing at the love being poured into you. It’s perfect enough that you regret running away from it to begin with but that won’t happen this time.

“Aah!” the man croaks, shooting back into consciousness. He tries to sit up but you use the belt to hold him down, squeezing it as hard as you can around his neck. You lock your legs around him, something they didn’t need to instruct you to do, and hang on until he goes limp. They look at you like they’re terrified of you, afraid to make any sudden movements in case you’re in the mood to come for them too.

Han takes him by the wrist, checking his pulse, “He’s…dead. Holy shit. You killed a guy.”

“I killed a guy?”

“You did! Good girl” Minho applauds, breaking out into a happy dance.

You and Han join him, dancing to totally different songs in your head but celebrating together nonetheless. Han gets up from the floor, dusting himself off, “Now you’ve just gotta chop him up. Got any food in your fridge? I’m hungry.” He wanders off to the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone in the bathroom.

Minho gets up too, kissing you on the top of the head. “I could use a midnight snack too” he yawns following Han’s lead, “Be careful with the radial artery, love. It bleeds like a bitch.”

Pushing the body off of you, you hop up to chase after them. “Wait! You’re ditching me for snacks? I don’t have the tools for this. And what the fuck is a radial artery?”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #stray kids au #minsung x reader #han jisung x reader #lee know x reader #han jisung angst #lee know angst #lee know x you #han jisung x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

187 notes · View notes

ettawritesnstudies · 2 years ago

Text

Etta's Guide to Writeblr (March 2023)

So you fled here from Twitter/TikTok... Where to start?

Welcome to Writeblr! Pull up a chair, open those documents, and pour yourself a cup of your favorite tea, coffee, or cocoa. The first thing you'll want to do is start following other writers. Check out this post for recommendations! Search through the notes to find hundreds more. Since I made that post, a bunch of people mentioned they're lurking and still trying to figure out tumblr, so I thought I'd make this post to help people get settled.

How to set up your blog

Make your blog name something not resembling a pornbot - it can be whatever you want, anything fun goes, just not [name###]. If you include "writer" or "author" somewhere in the url it makes it easier to spot writeblrs at a glance but it's not a requirement

Change your profile to something that's not the default, Make sure you have a blog title, and add a little description in your blog header if you feel like it!

Make a pinned post introducing yourself (pls don't use your real name or any IDing information for privacy's sake, this isn't facebook), a short summary of your WIPs, and links if you have an author's website/newsletter/ao3/etc. You can check my pinned post for an example

Make intro posts for each WIP! You can spruce these up with graphics (canva and unsplash are both great free resources to make edits/moodboards), excerpts, lists of tropes, character intros, etc. Link to the WIP intro in your pinned post so it's easy to find! You can update these as often as needed

If you want to make character intros, go wild. If you can't draw, piccrew is a great option. Just start talking about your WIP!

Come up with a tagging system to keep your blog organized. I recommend individual wip tags or at least one for your original writing in general so it's easy to search for your work on your blog

Keep track of Taglists for your WIPs. Whenever you post a new thing about your story, tag the people who asked to be notified to make sure they see it! Only tag people who ask to join the taglist, but it's a good way to keep track of interest. It's normal to have multiple taglists for each story+ one general writing taglist.

How to make writer friends

Reblog their work and add nice comments, either in the tags, comments, or the reblog itself People notice regulars in their notes and appreciate the attention. I promise it's not weird to compliment a total stranger

If that's too intimidating, community events are your friend!

Weekly Ask Games: These are weekly events that are loosely themed where writers send each other asks about their WIPs! The most common are Storyteller Saturday (about the writing process), Blorbsday (aka Blorbo Thursday about characters), and Worldbuilding Wednesday (about the setting of your story). If you answer these late, nobody really cares, but it's a fun way to receive prompts and learn more about other people's stories.

Ask Games/Memes: These are posts with lists of questions you can reblog from other people, sometimes themed or listed with emojis. It's common courtesy to send an ask from the list to the person you reblog it from, then people can send you questions as well, so you can talk about your stories! You can search for dozens of them

Tag games: There's a ton of different types of tag games, but basically someone @s you with a challenge/question, you reblog with your answer, and then @ a bunch of other people to continue the chain. Some common ones are Heads Up 7s Up (share the last 7 lines of your WIP), Last Line Tag (share the last line you wrote), and Find the Words (ctrl+f the given words in your doc and share the results, then give new words).

Formal events: These are community wide participation challenges organized by certain blogs! @writeblrsummerfest is every July?? August? I think? It's run by @abalonetea a few years strong, and there are daily prompts and ask games! @inklings-challenge is a month-long short story entry for Christian writeblrs. I think there was a valentines event in February. @moon-and-seraph is hosting a pitch week soon! Since these are more organized, it's very easy to find similar blogs and support!

Misc. Notes on using Tumblr

Follow the tags #writeblr and #writeblr community to find other writers, as well as other tags that interest you like #fantasy for example

If you want to bookmark a post to read later, you can like it and/or save it to your drafts

The queue/schedule function is very useful if you want to space out posts or have a backlog to keep your blog running when you get busy. This is good for the community because it gives older posts a chance to be rediscovered! You can change the posting frequency in the settings.

REBLOG YOUR OWN STUFF. People aren't always on at the same times and so it's the best way to account for people with different schedules and timezones. If you're worried about being annoying, you can tag those #self reblog or something similar and other people can filter the tag, but otherwise it's a welcomed and accepted practice.

If your excerpt is pretty long, put it under a cut. On desktop you can do this by selecting the squiggly button on the far right when you make a new paragraph, on mobile type :readmore: then hit enter.

It's polite to add descriptions to images and videos for visually or auditory impaired people. If you don't know how to write descriptions, here's a good resource

In your dashboard settings, it's best to shut off the options "Best Stuff First" and "Based on your Likes". These function as the website algorithm and suppresses the blogs you actually follow, which defeats the purpose of the site, letting the dash be in reverse chronological order. Also turn off Tumblr Live because it's malware as far as anyone's concerned.

Curate your experience, block the trolls, and be nice

Update for March 2024

How to shut off AI Scraping on your blog

Go to settings and find the Visibility tab

Scroll down to the tag that says "Prevent Third-Party Sharing"

Turn that knob over so that Automattic can't steal your work for their language training model databases >_<

The other settings will just hide your blog from search engines so they're useful for hiding from nosy parents or other Tumblr users but if you're trying to build an author platform you can leave them off.

Again, welcome to the community! I hope you have a ton of fun!

#writeblr #writer community #etta rambles #welcome to tumblr #guide to tumblr

1K notes · View notes

sebscore · 2 years ago

Note

Hey I saw your reply about the leclerc fics, could I request an imagine of say 16yr old sister reader getting her wisdom teeth out, and charles picking her up, getting her to stay in the car, etc? Sounds so random but I feel like it would be the funniest and cutest thing. If you could add an instagram story au of a photo that charles had taken of the loopy reader that would be amazing haha, thanks!

THANKS FOR NOT KILLING ME | CHARLES LECLERC

pairings: charles leclerc x sister!reader / arthur leclerc x sister!reader / lorenzo leclerc x sister!reader

warnings: mention of surgery. dentist. anesthesia. food. mood swings.

author's note: thank you for the request, I had fun writing this one! sorry if the ending seems rushed, I just didn't know how to properly end it. hope you enjoy it and let me know what you thought of it!

• • • • • • •

''Can you pull over? I have to pee.'' Y/N asked Charles, who was focused on the road.

Her older brother glanced at her through his rearview mirror, already done with the entire drive. ''No, you're gonna have to wait.''

Their mother had asked the second oldest Leclerc sibling to accompany her and his younger sister to the dentist, to get the youngest's wisdom teeth removed. Pascale already guessed that she was going to need some help with the teenage girl once her surgery was done.

He hadn't been too ecstatic, just wanting to hang out with his friends or play some video games. However, his mother had been very adamant on him joining and he found it hard to say no to her. Meanwhile, Arthur had volunteered to tag along, not wanting to miss his sister's reaction to the anesthesia as he had seen countless funny wisdom teeth removal videos online. The eldest brother, Lorenzo, had other businesses to attend to, but promised he would help take care of the girl once he was home.

''Honey, I told you to go slow on the pineapple juice.'' Her mother kindly scolded her, recalling her daughter's determination to only consume the drink as she had heard from friends that it would lessen the pain.

Y/N sighed, uncomfortably shifting in her seat. ''I'm hungry and thirsty, Maman!'' She complained, not having eaten anything in the last 8 hours.

''We'll get something afterwards, chérie,'' her mother assured her, ''how about ice-cream?'' Pascale turned around, looking at her daughter. ''Sounds good, thanks.''

''We're here.'' Charles pulled up to the parking and safely parked their car in the right spot.

Arthur snickered. ''Ooh~ I can't wait for you to get back.'' He teased her, rubbing his hands together.

''Shut up, you idiot!'' Y/N slapped his arm, resulting in a loud yelp from her older brother.

''Auw! You little shit!'' Arthur tried to hit her back, but his arm was pushed away by his mother. ''Stop it!''

''Maman!'' Arthur exclaimed, appalled. ''She started it!''

''You provoked her, Arthur.'' Pascale opened the car door and got out, adjusting her clothing.

Charles turned in his seat, looking at his sister. ''Y/N, good luck and we'll see you in an hour.'' Since the youngest sibling was still a minor, a guardian had to be present during the extent of her surgery, and with covid regulations still intact, the brothers couldn't wait for their sister inside the building. So, Charles and Arthur would fill up their free time until their mother had notified them when the surgery was done.

''It's not scary, right?'' She asked them, not making eye-contact with her brothers.

The two men glanced at each other, amused by the sudden behavior change. ''It's gonna be okay, you're not gonna feel a thing when they're removing the teeth.'' Charles comforted her.

Arthur opted to tease her, but seeing her obvious anxious expression, he didn't and followed his brother. ''Yeah, you have nothing to be scared about.''

Pascale had made her way around the car and opened her daughter's side of the door. ''Come on, we don't want to be late.'' Y/N nervously smiled at her two brothers, before getting out of the car.

''It's gonna be okay, you're brave!''

''Don't worry about it, munchkin.''

Their words of encouragement send a smile to their mother's face, touched by how her sons comforted their baby sister. Pascale put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and guided her into the dentist's office.

Her brothers watched them going in. ''She's gonna be fine, right?'' Arthur asked Charles, not entirely sure.

''Of course, you know how she doesn't like to embarrass herself in public.''

''I'm dying!'' Y/N cried out to her mother, once she had regained consciousness.

Pascale shook her head, already knowing it was going to be a difficult task. ''You're not, my love.'' She took out her phone and sent a quick text to Charles, informing him she had woken up and that she would need their help to get her into the car.

''Maman! I can't see anything, I've gone blind!'' Upon hearing her daughter's words, she looked at her. ''Chérie, that's because your eyes are closed.'' Pascale, along with the dentist and his assistant, had a hard time not to burst out laughing at the sight of the young girl.

''Oh.''

With some help from the assistant, Pascale got her daughter out of the chair. They each held one of Y/N's arms over their shoulders until they made it to the front entrance of the building, where Charles and Arthur were waiting for them. As soon as the two Leclerc's noticed their mom and sister, they took over.

''See? We told you that you would be fine.'' Charles immediately reassured her, his sister mindlessly staring at nothing.

Y/N whined in return. ''I'm not fine, I'm dying!'' She loudly exclaimed, her mother trying to shush her straight away.

''And I'm dying to get out of here, let's go!'' Arthur commented and made a move to start walking back to the car.

Pascale thanked the assistant for the successful surgery, just loud enough for Y/N to hear.

''Thank you for not killing me, Doc!'' She yelled out, causing some heads to turn at the noise.

''That's my job, thank you, Y/N.'' The assistant took it all in good fun and smiled at the young girl, her whole day made because of the interaction.

Eventually, the brothers got her in the car. Arthur put her seatbelt on, but stopped midway once he saw her looking wide-eyed at him. ''What is it?''

''Since when did you get here?'' She asked him, confusion written all over her face.

He simply chuckled and made sure her seatbelt was put on safely. ''Me and Charles were waiting for you to be done.''

''Charles is here?'' Y/N reacted astounded, gasping when Arthur pointed at the man in the driver's seat. The Ferrari driver had a huge smile on his face, endeared by his little sister. ''I'm here, Y/N.''

The teenager mirrored his smile until she noticed something. ''Wait, he's driving the car?'' She looked at her mom, who nodded.

''No~ he can't drive!'' Y/N whined, trying to take her seatbelt off.

Arthur stopped her right away. ''No, no, no! You have to keep that on, it's for your safety.'' He held his sister's arms to prevent her from doing anything further.

''Why can't Charles drive, honey?''

''Because he's stupid.'' She made a reference to the infamous Baku qualifying when he planted himself into the barriers.

Their mom and Arthur cackled at the comment, while Charles just accepted it. He drove out of the parking lot and the family was on their way back home.

''Where's Enzo?'' Y/N asked them, noticing the eldest brother wasn't in the car.

''He's at work, he'll be at home soon.'' Pascale answered, staying as positive as she possibly could.

Arthur pulled his phone out, grinning ear to ear. ''You wanna FaceTime him?'' He searched for his brother's contact and handed the phone to her. Y/N took the phone and pressed the FaceTime button, excited to speak with her brother.

However, he didn't answer and his little sister didn't like it one bit. ''Huh?'' She stared at her own reflection on the phone screen, a puzzled look on her face. ''Why isn't he answering?'' Her voice wavered, an indication she was going to cry.

''No, chérie, he's probably just busy.'' Pascale immediately tried to comfort her, not wanting to deal with that at that moment, but her daughter wouldn't hear it. ''He hates me, he doesn't want to talk to me.'' She continued whining, wiping non-existent tears away.

''Y/N, he doesn't hate you, he loves you! More than anyone else.'' Charles helped his mom, being reminded of when his sister was a toddler and she would whine the exact same way.

She fell more quiet at his words. ''Charles, do you love me?'' The whining had died down and the question came out more genuine.

''Of course I do! You're my baby sister, you're my favorite person!'' Charles wasn't lying when calling her his favorite person. The two had a very close bond and she always brightened his gray days. If she wasn't busy with school, she was always there for him during the Grand Prix's. Maybe he had to tell her more that he appreciated her always being there for him, he didn't say it enough.

She smiled at his answer, but wasn't satisfied yet. ''Do you love me more than Arthur?''

Charles simply laughed at the question while Arthur expectantly looked at his older brother, also curious about the answer.

"What's that kind of a question? I love you both equally." He put an emphasis on the last word, glimpsing at both of them through the rearview mirror.

Arthur's attention went back to the phone, but the youngest still wasn't content. "Why? I'm so much better than Arthur and I'm also prettier than him." Y/N summed up the reasons why Charles should love her more, almost in a childish manner.

"You're lucky you just got out of surgery, Y/N" The youngest Leclerc brother semi-threatened the girl.

"You know, I would stick my tongue out at you, but I can't feel anything." She shot back at him, gathering some laughs from Charles and their mother.

It didn't take long for them to arrive back home. However, it did take a long time for them to get Y/N in the house. Arthur joked about the ground being lava and she refused to get out of the car.

''I'm gonna go to the grocery store and get Y/N her ice cream. Charles, you're in charge of your sister!'' Pascale didn't waste anymore words and was out of the door before her second oldest child could even respond.

Charles sighed loudly, but still made his way to the living room and sat next to his sister, who didn't seem to have a thought behind her eyes. ''You kinda look like Carlos right now, Y/N.'' He laughed, her stare reminding him of his teammate.

''I look hot?'' She asked him, her voice a little higher than usual.

He made a disgusted face, that wasn't what he meant. ''No, you just-''

''So you think I'm ugly? My face feels all swollen.'' Her emotions were all over the place. A few seconds before she was all excited about being compared to Carlos and now she looked like she could burst out in tears.

Charles slightly panicked. ''No, no! You're pretty, Y/N! You're beautiful!'' He put his arms around her, feeling bad for making her cry.

She slowly blinked her eyes at him. ''Really? Oh, Charlie! That's so nice! You're pretty too!'' The tears in her eyes were gone and a bright smile had returned to her face.

Her older brother giggled, entertained by his sister's actions. He flinched when the front door suddenly closed very loudly. He glanced behind him to see Lorenzo entering the living room.

''Hey, how did it go?'' He asked them, appearing in front of them.

Charles answered for her. ''Good, no complications at all.''

''Unlike Ferrari…'' Y/N mumbled, a smirk present.

Lorenzo chuckled at her words. ''Ah, see! The anesthesia didn't do anything to her, she's still the same.'' He sat down on Y/N's other side, so she was sat in-between them.

''Enzo! Oh my god! How did you get here?'' His sister looked at him wide-eyed, like she hadn't just seen him walk into the house.

He confusingly glanced at Charles, who continued to be amused by his sister. ''I took my car and I drove home from work.'' He answered, matter-of-factly.

''I missed you, but you didn't pick up when I called.'' She told him, Lorenzo's confusion grew even more by the sudden mood swing.

''You didn't call me.''

''She called from Arthur's phone.'' Charles clarified for him.

''Ah~ I thought it was Arthur, so I didn't pick up, but if I had known it was you, I would have definitely answered, Y/N.'' Lorenzo figured he had to be as optimistic as he could be, that way he couldn't upset his sister in any way.

Y/N blushed at his words. ''That's so sweet! I knew you liked me more than Arthur.''

The youngest Leclerc brother must have sensed he was being talked about as footsteps could be heard coming down from the stairs. The door opened and he gave the three of them a suspicious look. ''I heard my name.''

''You must have a very good hearing.'' Lorenzo teased.

''Whatever,'' Arthur brushed it off, ''I'm going, can you tell mom when she gets back?'' He didn't look at his siblings, focused on getting his shoes and jacket on.

''Where are you going?''

''Friends.''

Charles and Lorenzo were satisfied with the answer, not particularly interested in who these friends were. However, their sister was a curious cat. ''Are you gonna see Mick?''

Arthur looked at her for the first time since he came downstairs, frowning. ''Mick? Who? Mick Schumacher?'' He asked her, to which Y/N nodded with an innocent smile on her face.

''No, why? Do you like him?'' The three brothers focused on their sister and how her face became more red. ''I think someone has a crush.''

''Mick's too old for you, Y/N.'' Arthur concluded, grabbing his car keys. He bid them goodbye and was off to meet his friends.

Y/N watched him leave, an offended expression on her face. ''He's not too old for me.''

''He's like 7 years older than you, that's too much. There are plenty people of your age who would love to date you.'' Charles said, not even wanting to think about his sister dating any of the other drivers on the grid.

Lorenzo agreed with his younger brother. ''Yes, by the way, you are way too young to have a boyfriend,'' he told her more sternly, ''or girlfriend.'' He doesn't discriminate.

''And if you're gonna date someone, don't date people who do motorsport.'' Charles added.

''So, no Mick?''

Both brothers shook their heads at her question, amused by her disappointment.

''How about Sebastian? He's retiring.''

"..."

''I'm not even gonna answer that one, I don't want that image in my head.''

''What's it with you and older guys?''

charles_leclerc added to his story !

#f1 fics #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x sister!reader #f1 fic

2K notes · View notes

siriusleee · 1 year ago

Text

always

You watch as he lifts his fingers up to lick the mixture of you and him off of them. The sight makes your stomach flip, and you dig your nails into the comforter. "I meant what I said," Ghost says, hand settling against your stomach - a reminder that even if you tried to leave, you'd still be tethered to him. "I know." triggers/tags: dubcon, non-con, blood, fighting, simon is a jealous bastard, squirting, (I never know what to put here). Read all my works here. Find my A03 here.

You can't remember the name of the soldier that presses you against the wall - you had barely paid attention to it when he told it to you. His lips, chapped and tasting of cheap beer, trail down your neck as his fingers inch towards the zipper on the back of your dress. His teeth nip at your flesh and you shiver beneath him the alcohol making both of your movements clumsy.

You hadn't meant to find yourself here - you didn't even want to come to this stupid military ball, but Soap had managed to convince you to get dressed up.

"He won' be there."

You didn't need to ask Soap to elaborate; getting dressed up and going out wasn't exactly Ghost's thing. He wouldn't be seen with you out in public unless someone held a gun to his head. You didn't ask Soap how he knew about the fallout between you and Ghost; you just let him drag you to the location with promises of free alcohol.

It had been a waste of time until you'd found someone who promised they'd fuck you right if you gave them half the chance. You weren't going to let him until you'd caught sight of Ghost.

The two of you had been orbiting around each other for weeks, broken pieces who had found each other - and then broke apart again. He'd left you behind weeks ago, telling you that he didn't want you anymore, that he couldn't keep seeing you. It had killed you, and seeing him tonight, not even dressed for the occasion, had brought back all the sharp edges you'd cut yourself on when he left. You drank more than you were supposed to until you could get enough courage to say yes when this guy offered to bend you over and fuck you enough to make you feel better.

You had needed something - anything - to take your mind off of Ghost.

His hands hike up your skirt, and two of his fingers loop in your panties. He kisses you at the base of your neck, sucking a bruise there.

His warmth is jerked away from you; your eyes shoot open to find Ghost holding him by the back of his dress uniform. Ghost shakes the guy once, who tries to swing free. Ghost drops the guy to the ground, and follows him down.

You watch in shock as Ghost slams his fist into the guy, his eyes are emotionless behind his mask.

"Ghost stop! Stop!"

You wrap your hands around his wrist, trying to pull him away from the man crumpled below him on the floor. Ghost pulls his hand out of your grip, and shoves you away. You stumble back; he grabs the guy by his collar and lifts him up just enough so that the man is looking at Ghost beneath the blood streaming down his forehead.

"If you ever even look at her again, I will kill you."

He drops the guy and stands, blood staining his knuckles. Ghost turns towards you, and for the first time, you see him like the men on the field must see him: a specter of fear. You take half a step back from him; he crosses the distance between the two of you in two strides. He grips you by the elbow and pulls you behind him and out of the back of the building.

He doesn't speak to you as he drags you back to the hotel, past the night security guard who looks over his desk at the two of you in shock.

Ghost shoves you into his hotel room; you stumble over the hem of your dress. Before you can do anything, Ghost is behind you, gripping your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss you. He tries to force your lips apart, but you pull back, biting down on his lip until you taste blood. He jerks his hand, pulling your hair until you gasp, fingers clenched in his shirt as you try to push him away. His nose trails down your neck; you try to shove him off and away, try to extract yourself because you know you aren't strong enough to do this again, to go through all of this again. To hear him say he doesn't want you again.

He fights with you as he drags your dress up, the sequins scraping roughly against your skin. Your knees collide with the edge of the bed, knocking you off balance. Ghost lets you fall and he follows. He wraps his fingers around the front of your panties and drags them down. You kick and he catches your ankle, sliding your panties off of one leg.

You know you aren't strong enough to fight back, to get him to stop. His fingers explore you - you realize with a pang that you had missed the feeling of him against your skin.

You refuse to make a noise for him; you know as soon as you do - as soon as you show any bit of pleasure, of weakness, at his actions that you're going to be lost again; drown in him without sight of the shore. Ghost's nails dig into the soft skin behind your knees, hands wrapping around your thighs to pin you down beneath him.

He bites down hard on your thigh, and your hand pushes against the top of his head, fingers digging into the fabric of his mask. You try to push him away as his tongue laps at the divots left by his teeth.

"Ghost stop it - get off I-"

You're cut off by your body betraying you, back arching against Ghost's mouth as he traces one tight circle with his tongue against your clit. You still don't make a sound.

Ghost releases one of your knees, his fingers tracing up the inside of your thigh before scraping down, the sting stoking the fire inside of you. You try to reach down and push his hand, but Ghost shoves your hand away.

He pulls his mouth away from you just long enough to tease you with his thumb before his fingers dip into you - it stings, he's never been this rough with you before you think as he pushes in slowly. He fucks his fingers into you; you can feel yourself dripping down his wrist and onto your thighs. Your grip on his mask weakens when his mouth joins his fingers. He slips another finger inside of you and you can't think, can't hardly breathe from how filled you are with him. You want him to move faster; you try to will him to speed up, and like how can always read you, his pace quickens.

It's disgusting: the sounds of the two of you in the quiet room; the wet sound of his fingers stretching you out, the sound of his breathing, ragged and broken against your skin.

The knot inside you tightens, and before you can try to steel yourself, it loosens. You cum against his fingers, body shaking and teeth clenched to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing you. Ghost pulls away, tongue lapping at you, tracing your thighs. You realize - your chest starts to burn red - that you've squirted against his fingers and he's trying to lick it up. Your head is swimming, the alcohol in your system burning through you with the feeling of Ghost.

"You think that fuck could have gotten you this wet? That he could fuck you like I can?"

You have to unclench your jaw to speak, your voice shaking.

"Of course, he could."

It's a lie, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction of telling him he's right: that he's ruined you for anyone else. That you don't even think of anyone else. That when that guy was kissing you, you were imagining it was Ghost. You feel it - the restraint Ghost had been showing you snap. His fingers disappear from you, and on instinct you lift your hips, searching for him again. He shifts, the bed springs groaning beneath his weight. His warmth leaves you; you open your eyes, wondering what effect your words had on him.

You barely get a moment to push yourself up onto your elbows before he's jerking you up out of the bed, his hands wrapped tightly around your upper arms. He holds both of your hands in one of his as he shoves your panties all the way off of you. He jerks your dress down, you hear the expensive fabric tear.

"Ghost -"

"Shut up."

He strips you, and your eyes refuse to leave him despite the vulnerability that clings to the both of you. He's seen you naked before but this moment, with the anger and want swirling between the two of you, is the most vulnerable you've ever felt near him. He turns to sit on the bed, pulling you down with him. You try weakly to break away, to pull away, but he tightens his grip. He settles onto the bed, pulling you down on top of him. He holds you captive with one arm, the other forcing your legs apart so he can put his thigh between the two of them.

You bury your nose in his neck and smell the cigarette smoke and gunpowder, the metallic smell of blood that never seems to leave his skin, and the detergent you bought for him weeks ago.

His hand comes down hard on your ass, the skin stinging beneath his rough palm. His hand lingers there, fingers teasing the edge of you. His hand connects again, and you try to jerk away, but the arm that's holding you down tightens pushing your chest harder onto the soft fabric of his shirt.

His hand connects with the spot a third time, and this time you let out a whimper in his ear. His knee jerks upwards and you grind down, trying to find some sort of release, some way off of this ledge Ghost has led you to. You whimper again as he doesn't stop, your hips tilting against his knee to find the sweet spot. You're so sensitive, the rough fabric of his jeans against your swollen cunt enough to make you nearly shatter.

You bite down on his shoulder; you feel him shudder beneath you as you bite down harder, moaning against his skin and trying uselessly not to let him hear. He doesn't stop until you finish, grinding down on his thigh wildly. The air stings against your raw skin, and you know tomorrow it'll hurt.

Ghost drops you, shoving you off of him. You're too dazed from your orgasm and from his treatment to do anything. You watch weakly as he pulls his shirt off, a bloody mark on his shoulder where you bit down. You're glad the mark will be on him for a few days - a constant reminder of you.

His hands work at his belt, fumbling over the buckle. You almost reach out to help him, but you remember how you found yourself here. Instead, you slide down and make yourself comfortable, but your eyes never leave him. He finally gets his belt off and shoves his jeans off. He palms himself as he crawls over you. You break your gaze away from him to stare at the wall. His fingers dip under your chin, trying to get you to look at him, but you resist. Annoyed, his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

He's pressed up against you, the tip of him barely brushing against you. You resist the urge to shift your hips, to slide him into you.

"I should never have said what I did. Watching that fucker touch you - he should be glad I didn't kill him there. I would have if you would have asked, that's all it would have taken. I will always want you. You are mine, and I am yours. Do you understand?"

He lets go of your jaw, hand tracing up the tender and bruised flesh to tangle in your hair, to pull your jaw up enough to show the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"I understand, Ghost."

That's all it takes. His hand, gentle in your hair, fists and he slams into you, hard enough that you try to pull away, but he holds you down, holds you against himself as he fucks you in a way he'd never done before.

You'd missed the feeling of him filling you up, of the way it felt like he completed you. You try to moan beneath him, but his body weight is pressing all the air out of your lungs. Your nails scratch at his back, hard enough that you're sure he will have bloody scratches tomorrow.

He's whispering in your ear, low and quick.

"No one is allowed to touch you ever, but me. I am-"

His voice cuts off as he jerks away from you, pulling out just long enough to flip you over. His hands are bruising on your hips as he jerks you back, one hand pushing down between your shoulder blades to make your back arch.

You bite down on the sheets, trying to keep from unraveling. Another climax is building inside of you; Ghost grips your ass, slamming you back into him. Your walls grip him tighter as you finish again, a scream smothered into the mattress. Ghost folds down on top of you, one hand wrapping around your neck to give him leverage to fuck you harder until finally, he stills.

He doesn't linger there - he pushes himself up and away from you. You try to roll over, but he pushes you back onto the bed. His fingers trace down your back before dipping down. You feel him drag his fingers up your thigh before pushing into you. Your face burns when you realize he's pushing his cum back into you, to fill you up with him. To remind him that you belong to him.

Ghost shifts, collapsing on the bed beside you, his mask pulled up around his nose.

You watch as he lifts his fingers up to lick the mixture of you and him off of them. The sight makes your stomach flip, and you dig your nails into the comforter.

"I meant what I said," Ghost says, hand settling against your stomach - a reminder that even if you tried to leave, you'd still be tethered to him.

"I know."

#simon ghost riley #my fics #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost cod x you #ghost #simon riley smut #ghost smut #ghost call of duty #cod smut #cod x reader #cod fanfic #mw2 smut

636 notes · View notes

http-tokki · 1 month ago

Text

i will- katsuki bakugou

~ bakugou katsuki x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, angst, established friendships, finally katsuki says something about his feeling, mentions of euthanasia ~ wc: 1.5k ~ final part to the drunk walk home collection part one part two

Saturday 9:13 pm You: hey, are you free?

Saturday 9:15 pm Katsuki: Yeah. Is everything okay?

Saturday 9:15 pm You: yeah, i was just wondering if you were in the area. i kinda need a ride home.

Saturday 9:15 pm Katsuki: Send me the address.

Saturday 9:15 pm You: only if youre not busy, i don't want to bother you. actually, i'm sorry it's okay, ill call an uber. sorry to bother again.

Saturday 9:16 pm Katsuki: Send me the address. I'm coming to get you.

Saturday 9:16 pm You: thank you

----

“I feel like I need to open a tab with you.” You mutter a joke as Katsuki slides into the once-empty seat opposite you.

Now that his large frame occupies the space, humiliation crashes down upon your already slumped shoulders.

You had been stood up.

Left waiting in a restaurant long enough the wait staff had caught onto the situation and slid a complimentary drink onto your pathetic table with a sympathetic grin that is often reserved for stray dogs. You were the human equivalent of a stray dog now if only euthanasia was an option, the mortification would be a little more tolerable.

“A tab for what?” Bakugou asks, hand rising to grab the waiter’s attention.

“You’re always taking me home,” there is a joke there but your spirits had already been crushed beyond belief, you don't need to have your saviour laugh in your face at the insinuation of the two of you together.

Katsuki stares, brows furrowed.

“I said you were taking me home but you’re just driving me home, it’s not like you and I are… or that you’re even-" you shake your head, clearing the shameful attempt at humour from your brain,

His expression does not falter as you ramble so you attempt to clarify again despite wanting to shut up forever.

“It’s a joke about you-“

“I get it but I’m not taking you home and fucking you so why do you need a tab?”

You note the detached way he spits out the words, as if their meaning has no effect on him and you have to fight the frown that tugs at your mouth. Of course, he wouldn't react to that image, why would he? So why are your cheeks flushing and skin prickling with heat that is bubbling beneath the surface?

“Um, I need a tab 'cause you’re like an Uber…” you stumble through the sentence, dejection evident despite your terrible attempt at realigning your posture to appear unbothered.

Bakugou continues to stare at you, unblinking in his visual assessment before he lowers his guard the tiniest inch. His lips lift at the corners as if he wants to smile but can't.

A moment of silence before your apology whooshes out of you in a defeated breath. “I’m sorry, I should have called someone else; I can’t keep doing this to you.”

He shakes his head, eyes following the line of your shoulders as you lean further down. “No, I liked that you called me.”

Whether it was intentional or not, you can't ignore the emphasis on the pronoun and how the smile he had been trying to suppress was beginning to slip out.

“I'd rather you call me than find out you walked home or some stupid shit.”

Oh. Okay.

You smile back, tight-lipped and polite at the correction.

Silence fills the air between you, growing like a gas cloud that threatens to envelop you both with the promise of a dreary and awkward death.

“So, what was his excuse this time?” Katsuki asks.

You debate lying, making up some excuse that didn’t make your current situationship look like a complete and utter asshole, that you hadn’t called said ass in the morning to double, and triple check that he was indeed going to show for the dinner tonight but that would do nothing but embarrass you further and Katsuki would figure it out through his complex web of sources, so you tell the truth.

“There is none.” You shrug, slipping your hands under your stocking-clad thighs, the way you used to upon being scolded. “I just feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.” Katsuki comforts, voice gentle as he smiles at you. The softness doesn't last long as he catches himself and reigns it in. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.”

“Why do you do that?” You ask and nod your chin in his direction.

“What?”

“You give me a compliment and then you follow it up with some backhanded comment that makes me feel like you don’t really want to compliment me.” You explain and watch the colour rise in your classmate’s cheeks. “If you don’t want to be nice to me, you don’t have –“

“I want to be nice to you.” Katsuki cuts in, the confession rushed.

“Then just be nice?”

Bakugou pulls his bottom lip, teeth gnawing on the plush flesh as he thinks of what to say next. You know he can be. Experienced it first-hand a few times now, the most recent being the way he cradled you as you sobbed, stroked your hair from your face and wiped the tears that streaked your face. Despite the brutal armour that surrounds his entire being, there is kindness and warmth simmering just below the metal.

“Am I allowed to be nice to you?” The question is soft, reserved and laced with apprehension.

Your heart squeezes. “Yes, you’re allowed to be nice to me.”

-----

Katsuki drives you home the way he always does.

His phone in your hands to allow for easy DJ duties, watching you from the corner of his eyes as you babble useless facts about the artists or songs, the latest book you were reading, class assignments, or anything else that came to mind. He does occasionally pipe up, offering small topics and opinions but for the most part, he sits and enjoys your company. He likes your company, likes you, and wants to spend more than with you outside of a car, on a date, every day, all day.

"Can I ask you something?" Katsuki’s voice stops you as you reach the door to your apartment complex.

He had insisted on walking you to your door.

“Sure.” You turn back to him, smiling despite the frown pulling at your lips.

For a moment, his eyes land on you. The usual intensity in his gaze softens for a tenth of a second before he quickly shifts attention to your shoes.

"Why do you keep going back to him?" genuine concern and questioning fills his tone.

"I... it’s easy and something I know." you shrug. "I’m not sure why. I just...I don't know." You can’t look at him either, heat flooding your cheeks at your inability to answer such a simple question. Why were you continuously going back to a man who disrespects you time and time again, embarrassing you each time?

"You deserve better, you know that right?" a small step forward, closing the already small space between you. "You deserve someone who will actually show up when you need them and hold your hand in public and not just at some party and call you every day and pick you up from work and take you home. Not their home, your home. You deserve someone..."

"Like you?" you offer, hoping he'll say yes and make this easy on you.

He is quick to answer, suddenly very afraid of where he is taking this conversation. "Not me but someone, not him."

"Ohh, okay." you nod, cheeks blazing in shame. The keys in your hand all too interesting now you had been given an answer to the very much spoken question. "Well, I'll umm...I'll think about it, yeah?"

Katsuki nods, averting your eyes.

"Well, thanks again Katsuki. I promise this will be the last time, it's not fair on you but thanks again." you smile, readying yourself to turn and all but sprint into your apartment. "I really mean it, thank you, Bakugou."

You're halfway turned around when you feel a hand on your wrist keeping you from spinning away. Katsuki's hand slides along your waist, gripping the satin on your dress in a white knuckle grip before he presses his lips to yours. You freeze, shock stilling your brain and body for a moment before reality sets in and you're dropping everything to wrap yourself around him. Katsuki loosens his grip, hands reaching up to cup your face with the same gentleness he had held you with all those weeks ago. Your mouth opens beneath his, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip and you pull back, chest heaving as you race to catch your breath. You don't want to not be kissing him but the lack of oxygen was causing your head to spin. Fingers trail along your cheek, curling at your jaw before sliding into your hair.

"Is this you being nice to me?"

Katsuki huffs a laugh. "This is just the beginning of me being nice to you."

----

a/n: not my best work but i feel like i need to post something im sorry

#http tokki #⊹₊🔥⋆｡°✩ katsuki #bakugou fanfiction #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou x you #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki fluff #bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you

54 notes · View notes

suplicyy · 2 months ago

Note

hey hey hey (i sound like bokuto LOOOL) since your requests are open 👀👀 can you write something about kuroo again? i know i’m boring asf but i just can’t ignore my need to read everything about him you write. i was thinking, since they’re both in nekoma high (reader can be a second or third year like him, your choice) but maybe they’re in different classes so he would pay visit to her during breaks or even during lessons, i don’t know why but i feel like this is something he would definitely, he loves the attention after all. this is just my little idea, then you have completely free rein. thank u so much!! and dw about it taking time, i bet it’ll be worth the waiting (btw I LOVED kuroo headcannons, they’re so himm)

If you two were from different classes

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

— Summary: You two are from the same school, but both are in different classes.

— Tags/Genre: Fem!Reader (implied) | Fluff | Headcanons

— Warnings: None!

Before you guys started dating, you really couldn't understand how it always seemed like Kuroo was around, even though he wasn't even in your class.

There wasn't a day that went by where Kuroo wasn't barging into your classroom just to talk to you.

When I say he would do anything to see you even in separate classes, I mean anything.

There are times when even when he doesn't go to school for some reason, he always finds a way to go into school just to see you and then leave as if he had never been there.

Except for the days when he's sick as hell and can't even get out of bed. (but he would pester you via text message telling you to come visit him)

Or sometimes when Kuroo's homeroom teacher lets his students out for break early, but your homeroom teacher doesn't, so he stands next to your classroom door, patiently waiting for you to come out.

And at those times, please don't look out the hallway window, or you'll find Kuroo staring at you with some grimace through the window.

He once did just that and you burst out laughing in the middle of your math teacher's explanation, which made you have to spend all your break time helping him with a ton of paperwork.

And of course Kuroo begged the teacher to let him help you.

At least once in his life, he probably tried to pass himself off as a student of your class just to be with you. And when the teacher asked why Kuroo was in his class, he just said "You must be mistaken, teacher, I've always been from here" as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And it's safe to say that after that, the teacher kicked him out of your classroom and gave him a nearly 10-minute lecture on how wrong it is to lie.

Someone stop him please, this boy is jumping at any opportunity to be near you...😭

LISTEN!! He would DEFINITELY tell you all the gossip that happened in his classroom.

If he knew of something scandalous, such as falsehoods between classmates, or even fights, he would rush to tell you everything and in full detail.

Many people know you two as a gossipy couple.

And I also say that whenever he has the chance, he would bring his own snack to your classroom so you can eat together, and he even brings Kenma every now and then. (only when Kuroo promises to buy him a new game)

— A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one because I identified with your request😭 At school, all my friends are in another class, while I am all alone in other, and whenever the bell rings for break, I run to their classroom to be with them!!

And don't worry about asking for the same character several times, I'm managing to get into a good writing rhythm!! So ask as many times as you want, and I will try to follow this rhythm!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #hq #hq x reader #haikyuu oneshot #hq fluff #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #haikyuu x fem!reader #haikyuu x female reader

83 notes · View notes

weirdsht · 3 months ago

Text

Disillusioned 8 . Nothing More, Nothing Less

tags: feelings in progress, author trying to write cliche romance scenes and cringing, author can't do scene changes T-T

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist prev . next

"Don't"

Cale suddenly spoke to _____. It has been a few hours after their conversation with the Golden Dragon Eruhaben.

"Don't even think about it. If you heal that dragon it will cost you your lifespan."

"...I understand young ma– I mean Cale-sunbae"

Cale Henituse doesn’t trust that one bit, but he needs to go out. He needs to go get his prize for working hard in the Jungle.

So he leaves the adults that are staying in Eruhaben’s lair reminders about _____. Only then was he able to leave with peace of mind.

“Little _____ being alive is precious! You know that right?”

It hasn’t even been 5 seconds since Cale left and Raon is already chatting up the healer. In the corner of the room, the ancient dragon pretends to not listen in on their conversation.

“Of course Raon Miru-nim. Living and being alive is the best thing.”

“Yes, you’re right smart _____!”

The baby dragon was silent for a second. He stared at the healer before flying over to their lap and lying there as if it were his personal pillow.

“Why did you think of doing that then?”

Raon’s voice was completely serious. The playfulness from earlier is gone.

It took _____ a few seconds to figure out what the black dragon was talking about.

“It was just a passing thought… That and isn’t it only right? As someone born with this kind of power, it would be right for me to use it for good.”

Eruhaben, who didn’t know the full extent of this healer's powers and had only heard that they were a healer from Pendrik, became confused at the direction this conversation was taking. What does living have to do with using their powers?

“But _____ you’ll die! I don’t want you to, we don’t want you to. If you die then I’ll destroy everything except the human and our other friends!”

The dragon’s gaze turned vicious for a second but returned to normal before _____ could see. He's a smart dragon, so after hearing the things the healer went through, he knows he has to be careful to not scare this human. It’s only right to have this much consideration for his friends.

“Don’t do that Raon-nim, you might get hurt. I promise not to die.”

“I’m not gonna get hurt. I’m great and mighty!”

“Yes, that is true, but I still worry.”

It was then _____’s turn to be silent. It looks as though they are thinking about how to formulate the right words.

“As I said Raon-nim doing things like this is part of my responsibility for being blessed with this kind of power. However, more than that… I think it would only be right to do this much for Eruhaben-nim. After all, he's going to give us a lot of things for free.”

Raon who has been intently listening prompted _____’s hands to pet him. The healer complied and started petting the dragon as they continued to speak.

“But again, it was just a passing thought. I’m not even sure if what we’re thinking is possible. I just want to pay Eruhaben-nim for the things his giving us.”

For a moment the baby dragon stopped nuzzling his head on _____’s stomach to get his point across.

“It’s fine we’ll manage to pay back Goldie Gramps even without your healing powers! I’m sure the human will find something!”

“I’m sure he will.”

Raon was almost sure he could see the faint smile that lingered on the healer’s lips. It was so small but Raon was sure it was there. He makes a silent promise that next time he’ll make _____ fully smile.

Like that, the members left in Eruhaben’s lair spent a peaceful time waiting for Cale.

Meanwhile, the same thing can’t be said for Cale.

The man is currently brewing a headache. Out of all people he just had to run into the wanted holy maiden and saint of the Mogoru Empire. Out of all things the holy maiden just had to be the swordmaster they fought in Hais. Out of all things that same person just had to be poisoned by dead mana.

Surprisingly, not really if you ask On, on their way back Cale’s main concern is not letting _____ know about the situation. He can’t risk the healer insisting on healing that fake holy maiden. Especially not when he's pretty sure Mary can handle it.

If _____ knew then it would just turn into an annoying predicament for him.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Sure, if that’s what you say.”

That’s why he pushes On’s voice away from his head. He doesn’t even know why he thought of her. Contrary to the silver kitten's assumptions he didn’t care that much for the healer. He just felt a sense of responsibility since he took them under his wing.

Again, nothing more, nothing less.

Luckily an opportunity to question what happened in the Jungle did not arise.

As soon as Cale got back he was too busy conspiring with the crown prince as well as trying to find the earth's ancient power.

By the time they had any free time the Jungle was almost forgotten as their attention had been focused on the underground villa that came with the ancient power.

Everyone else used the free time they had acquired to train and get stronger. Everyone except Cale and _____ that is.

Since the two are weak in the physical aspect and have powers that cannot be fortified, the two opt to watch from the sidelines and provide moral support.

At first, they just idly sit somewhere as they watch everyone else, only getting up to eat. Then after a few days, they were having full-blown tea parties. Well, it’s more like Cale will ask _____ if they want sweets, to which the healer would say no, Cale would then proceed to ask Beacrox to make some for him, and then when the sweets arrive he would insist that there’s too much so _____ must help him finish it or else the chef will have both of their heads.

Beacrox finds it quite amusing how _____ falls for it every time.

Everything is fine and dandy. Well, almost everything. There’s just one thing that bothers Cale a little.

He was jealous of _____.

It’s comedic really. Because he was jealous of how _____ could move away whenever something important was being reported. Whenever someone goes to their designated tea table _____ would be seen standing up and moving away to give them some space.

In a way, it pisses off Cale because he knows the trauma associated with the habit.

But on the other hand…

He was so so jealous.

If only he could do the same thing then he’d be closer to his slacker life.

Cale wishes he could also just magically disappear whenever an annoying report is coming.

But alas he can’t.

So he takes in all the troublesome information he wishes he didn’t know.

Just don’t mention out loud how there seems to be a timer for how long you can report to him.

Three to five minutes is fine. During that time frame, Cale will still be attentive. Any more than that then everyone will see how his eyes seem to dart back and forth towards the healer.

As if longing for their company. Okay maybe not longing because Cale says it isn’t that, and whatever he says goes.

But anyway, everyone knows not to keep the healer away from the young master for too long.

If confronted about it, which wouldn’t happen unless one of the children is inquisitive, Cale would deflect that it was just because _____ is a good conversationalist.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Sure at first it took a while to get a flow going because of the healer’s habit of needing permission to speak first. But it's gotten better after a few days of spending time with Cale.

They still won’t initiate conversations but they aren’t as stiff, and will openly share their ideas on a topic even when unprompted.

Cale thinks that’s good.

He won’t say that he's proud because he is not. Definitely not. It's just good that it's easier to talk to them now.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Well, the conclusion is that Cale now has a conversation buddy and a normal one at that.

It's a nice change after only speaking to vicious people for such a long time.

“Well hypothetically if the main character is really the culprit then he would turn into everything he swore to not be. Which is not bad from a narrative standpoint but I don’t think that author in particular will write such things.”

“That is true… Based on the other books from this author that we’ve read, it’s unlikely they’ll make the main character turn back on their morals.”

‘Ah, it’s great to have normal conversations after only talking to vicious people.’

Cale could feel the tension leaving his body these days. It was all thanks to _____’s presence. For once the young master can talk to someone completely harmless, unlike the other people in their group.

On this particular day, the two are talking about a mystery novel they are currently reading. Two copies of the said novel are on the table along with their usual spread of sweets and tea.

Beacrox and Ron must’ve decided to make liquorice the theme today. Their spread consisted of liquorice root tea[1], liquorice skyr cake[2], and some chocolate and liquorice tarts topped with raspberries. Cale doesn’t know why everything is liquorice today, but he's not going to complain because it’s better than lemon.

_____ takes a bite out of the tart, the chocolate smudging on the side of their lips in the process.

“There’s this other novel I found that’s similar to what we read the other day. It's about some guy who's the sole reader of a book and that book came to life– oh you have some chocolate near your lips.”

Cale noticed the smudge and stopped talking to inform the healer. _____ tried to get the chocolate the young master was talking about but was unsuccessful.

After a few attempts of trying and missing Cale got tired.

“Come over here.”

If Cale’s voice was uncharacteristically soft as he called _____ over then no one commented on it.

_____ leaned over the table they were compliant albeit a little confused as they didn’t know what the redhead was thinking.

As soon as they did Cale also leaned over and wiped the small smudge of chocolate on their face.

Afterwards, the two continued eating and talking as usual. The spread of sweets slowly dwindled and the teapot gradually dried out. All while they switch from one topic to another.

In the corner of the villa, everyone ignored Hans as he repeatedly slapped the poor wall while watching the two.

[1] liquorice root tea from the liquorice plant is a sweet tea, poor Cale has been drinking nothing but lemon tea so I gave him a break.

[2] a skyr cake is a non-bake, served cold cake that's a bit similar to a cheesecake

#trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #tcf #lcf #cale henituse #lotcf #totcf #tcf x reader #lotcf x reader #lcf x reader #totcf x reader #manhwa x reader #cale x reader #cale henituse x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x reader #disillusioned . tcf

89 notes · View notes

ivysangel · 7 months ago

Text

I am dead serious when I say that you guys need to start giving writers feedback more often. I have a fic here that has a total of 4015 notes and only 218 aren't likes. So, let me break this down for you a bit.

Of 4015 notes, 186 are reblogs and 32 are comments. Two reblogs, as well as comments, are mine so I'll subtract them from the equation making the total number of notes 4011 (184 rbs, 30 comments, 3,797 likes).

Of the 184 reblogs, 16 are private, meaning they're absolutely useless in spreading and sharing the piece. The remaining 168 consists of 136 reblogs falling under "other reblogs" while only 32 fall under "comments and tags." And of the 32 under "comments and tags," only 9 have something besides a copy of the tags that I included in my initial post.

The 184 reblogs make up 4.6% of the total notes, the reblogs under "comments and tags" make up 0.8% of the total notes, and the reblogs under "comments and tags" with anything besides tags copied from the initial post make up 0.2% of the total notes.

At one point, I reblogged the post, asking if anyone wanted a part two. That's when I got my first comments. The first 6 comments were in response to that, and of the 30 total comments (excluding my own), only two were unrelated to a part two. Which means I can guarantee that I wouldn't have had that many comments had I not posed the question of a sequel fic.

And if I add those 2 comments to the 9 reblogs, I get 0.3% of the total notes on my post that make up the portion of notes that aren't likes, empty reblogs, or comments about a part two. And that's me being generous because two of the reblogs actually do mention a part two.

I also posted a poll asking what people wanted in part two, and that poll got 238 votes. That is 54 people more who voted for what they wanted in a part two that didn't reblog or help push part one.

Don't get me wrong, I love seeing people in my notifs liking my posts, but sometimes it's just not enough. It is utterly exhausting waking up to multiple hundreds of notifications and not seeing a single person compliment your work. You guys will like stuff, follow, and then head straight to the inbox asking for more. I know it's been said a hundred times before, but we are not machines; we do this for free in our spare time.

The post in question was written when I was tired out of my mind, and I ended up not liking it, so I let it sit in my drafts. I briefly mentioned it on my blog and was met with one of my followers showing interest in the idea, which prompted me to revise, edit, and post it. It was a gift, as are all fics and pieces of art by writers and artists on this site, and yet it was treated like a commodity.

When people say it's unmotivating they're not kidding. When I had 100+ asks in my inbox, all of them being requests, I felt like I had the worst case of writers block known to man. I would open my inbox and immediately close it because the idea of posting anything knowing the only response would be more requests, was awful.

When people leave little messages in the tags, full-blown commentary, or kind messages in my inbox referencing posts, I feel more motivated than ever. Those responses are what drives me to write more. But when I, and other writers, are being treated like we're here to cook up whatever fantasisies you have in mind, I can't help but side-eye a little.

We wouldn't write if we didn't enjoy it, but the moment it feels like a job, it becomes that much less enjoyable, and then everybody loses. Just send a kind message to your favorite writers every once in a while. I promise it'll make their day.

I would also like to say that as I've written this, I've seen more people like that post. So, there's that.

#i hope this makes sense #it's 5 am and i haven't slept yet #★ just yappin ★

139 notes · View notes

villainofmyownstory · 4 months ago

Text

Three copies and some signatures

Simon/Reader/(Johnny)

I don't know I don't have an idea for a title, so I wrote anything. I know some people are waiting for the next part of Day Zero, I'm slowly writing the next chapter but need more time, but don't worry I didn't abandon it! I was motivated to write this thing by anon's shitty ask to @/rememberwren about “too many fics about Ghoap” lmao . So I also wrote something about Ghoap. Because WHY NOT? Aaaaand if you don't know Wren's wonderful work leave everything and go and read it -> HERE <3

I would like to write the next parts, but I can't promise anything.

tags: angst, hurt no comfort

don't know how to tag :< let me know what to add

______________________________________________________________

Of course it had to end this way.

It was more than certain that you would end up in this place eventually. With sweaty hands and a heart that was beating too fast and heavy. Your heart rate increased and your breathing quickened. Drops of sweat appeared every now and then on your heated forehead and you tried again and again to wipe them off. To dry your shiny skin at least for a while. At least look a little presentable.

The crumpled white shirt no longer looked like the one you had ironed for over an hour. Now crumpled and stained, it carelessly hugged your curvy body.

The chair creaked with your every move. Nervously every now and then you change positions as if at least the comfort of sitting would improve your situation.

More minutes pass and the door in front of you is still closed. The paint on them is coming off in some places, revealing the banal light-colored plywood. The entire anturage of this building cries out for renovation.

Despite the well-paid work of the people who work here, the base looks as if its glory years are long behind it and there are no funds to even refresh the walls. It's as if for at least 20 years no one has noticed the cracked walls, the paint falling off or the crooked fine wooden chairs.

Maybe it's just appearances.

You shift in your seat again. The creak of the wooden chair echoes through the empty and cold corridor. Despite the early hour of the day and the sun outside the windows, everything inside seems harsh and unfriendly. To your relief there are not many windows so the prevailing semi-darkness makes you feel marginally more at ease. At least a little anonymity. Maybe the small number of people who passed you walking through the corridor with a quick step won't remember you and when you leave these walls after all, no one will ever shout after you on the street. They won't associate you with this place. With him.

Only when that happens. When this hell will finally come to an end. How long will it be when you are free again? Because every doorbell ringing, every unfamiliar number on screen or finally an unfamiliar customer at work looking at you for too long. It won't all cause that nervousness, that cursed lump in your throat and more gray hairs on your head. Every fucking minute spent in fear.

Someone will finally find out.

Reasons.

Everyone has some. Everyone has a story, some problems, something that makes them look for solutions. The question is whether it was worth it to risk so much. Whether committing a crime was worth it to choose to live here. To continue living in this country.

To be alive.

In the distance you can hear someone's conversation, laughter interspersed with words. Empty corridors carry sounds that ring in your ears, but everything blends into an incomprehensible cacophony of sounds. Into one piece.

You know that resounding, hearty laughter well.

You have heard it many times.

The melody, once heard, is forever imprinted in your memory.

Rhythmically approaching footsteps, voices are getting louder. Two people.

They are close.

The danger makes you feel trapped. Like an injured prey caught in a trap on a hunt.

You nervously look around looking for any way to escape. However, the only way to get out of this place is through this damn corridor, the direction from which you hear the approaching voices.

Panic grips your body and mind, many thoughts appear one second not allowing you to focus and remain rational.

He is about to be right here.

As you involuntarily bite your lower lip and try not to sob, the door finally opens.

A tall and muscular man stands in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the room, like a knight on a white horse with a friendly and affable smile. He greets you and says your name. His name.

Finally, he invites you inside. This time you managed to escape.

Captain Price. This much you know crossing the threshold of this room. In the morning when two sad gentlemen knocked on your door. You expected to be handcuffed, or something else entirely. Something you were being prepared for. It could always happen. KIA.

And now, sitting in a more comfortable chair than the ones in the corridor, you look at his Captain. A person you knew a lot about, as well as the entire Task Force 141.

After all, you are a good student. You diligently applied yourself to your lessons. You memorized every word.

Every truth and every prepared lie.

Your made-up life.

The captain leans back in his chair still looking at you, despite the stress of the situation a calmness beats from the man.

You expected accusations, shouting, nervousness and humiliation.

Nothing of the sort happens.

“It's good to finally meet you.”

He says, tilting his head gently to the side and grinning at you.

“When Laswell called me and informed me of the situation. Well. It was quite a shock to me. A positive one. But still... it's quite surprising.”

He doesn't finish the sentence because his words are interrupted by a rhythmic and loud knocking.

Damn.

***

Several hours have passed since those events at the base. Despite the fact that there are a few hours left until nightfall, you decide to spend the night in a nearby hotel and return on the next day, in the early morning.

You didn't even wait for the two gentlemen who brought you here.

You rent a car and return on your own.

You borrowed cash from the captain. The meeting at the base was supposed to be a secret, between you and him. No sign of your presence near the base. You couldn't use your credit card.

Another fucking lie in your life.

Or maybe everything else was untrue and what was happening now was reality. The truth you couldn't quite believe.

It wasn't just the frayed nerves of the situation that made you not want to drive today.

There was something else.

Today is Thursday. A day when when he had the opportunity, he called. He was close by, at a nearby training ground with recruiters. So you can certainly expect weekly contact.

The very thought turns your stomach. It was so ridiculous, infantile.

Unnecessary.

When 9pm strikes, as usual, evenly, punctually the familiar ringtone echoes.

You wait.

One-

Two-

Three.

“Hi”

You sit upright on the edge of the hotel bed, squeezing your thighs tightly together. You straighten your back unnaturally pulling your shoulder blades as close together as possible.

Finally, you hear his low voice.

“Hi love”

Love? Huh, that's something new.

“Hi”

You repeat the greeting in a trembling voice. Does he already know about your unannounced visit to the base. Does he know that his captain has finally found out. What if-

“I miss you, so bad.”

At these words you close your eyes.

There's nothing to worry about. A standard fake conversation between two spouses. In case of eavesdropping, in any doubt. At the risk of someone continuing to check up on you.

“I miss you, too.”

you answer with a learned line. As you do every time.

“I'm counting down the days until I see you again, love”.

You hate it. You hate hearing his words. You shiver. Swallowing the incoming tears.

You're unable to utter another theatrical phrase.

When a lie repeated so many times has become the truth for you. When pretending became a natural behavior. How it happened, that something inside you changed.

So pathetic, weak creature.

For the first time, you can't follow the script.

“ 'r you still there?”

The question hangs in the void. It reaches your ears. Further learned words, however, are blocked inside you.

You open your eyes and your gaze drifts to the floor, to the hotel's dirty carpet. Seconds pass slowly. Each moment makes you feel more and more miserable. You want to throw up.

“I miss you so much, Simon.”

Shit, you're such an idiot.

You quickly hang up, throwing the phone in the sheets and running to the bathroom.

Falling in love wasn't part of the contract.

***

He shouldn't smoke.

He quit exactly when he met you. That September night.

Now, standing behind one of the barracks leaning against a cold wall, he looks up at the same sky. Looking for what you were looking for then.

The sky is dark and cloudy.

“LT?”

He is pulled from his musings by a whisper. Such a familiar voice.

“Where are ya? Come back here, I'll freeze my balls off, if- ”

“I'm comin' , Johnny.”

Crushing the cigarette butt under his military boot, Ghost takes one last look at the sky.

No star. That night he sees none. There's nothing special.

As he enters the room, the small light of the nightstand illuminates the familiar room. When the door slams behind him, in this safe space, he pulls off his mask and walks over to the bed.

Shaking slightly, Johnny sits down on his bed, rubbing his bare shoulders in an effort to warm himself.

“You quit smokin'. ”

A dry statement, Johnny says the words and looks reproachfully at the man standing over him.

Ghost smirks, reaching out his hand to smooth the sergeant's messy hair. Like a tame wild animal. To calm him down. Meticulously styled mohawk was forgotten an hour or two ago.

His hand travels lower to finally stop on the man's jaw and with little force Ghost squeezes his chin, raising it to look him in the eye.

“Behave, Johnny boy.”

“Or what?”

With a cocky grin Johnny asks. He lifts one hand and sticks his fingers in the belt loop of his pants, pulling Ghost closer, so that he's standing between Johnny's legs.

“I don't think you're ready for a second round.”

Finally Ghost pulls away and heads toward the bathroom.

Johnny grunts back.

“I saw her today.”

Ghost stops in mid-step. He stiffens, but doesn't turn toward the man who already regrets his words. There's no going back.

“I want to finally meet her.”

Saying this, he gets up and walks closer. He puts his hand on Ghost's shoulder trying to calm him down. He knows it's too much. Not after what he heard during their weekly conversation.

But a life of lies was destroying him from the inside. He could feel the rot. The stinking evil he felt at every turn. While waking up and falling asleep. It was constantly accompanying him.

No one deserved such cruelty. If he even had to pay for it with his happiness. He would agree without a second thought.

It had gone too far.

“I want to meet your wife, Simon. She needs to know the truth. About all this.”

About us.

______________________________________________________________

English is not my first language, so probably many things are poorly described and the vocabulary is very simple. If you see any mistakes - let me know!

#ghoap x reader #simon “ghost” riley #johnny soap mactavish #3CSS

65 notes · View notes

russellsppttemplates · 11 months ago

Text

Promise (Lewis Hamilton)

The season has kept Lewis so busy he hasn't been paying attention to you in the way you needed

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time on hold (since april), I'm finally posting this one. The timeline is a bit bent to fit what I already had written for what was requested, so I hope you don't mind it too much! Hopefully the person who requested this is still around and reading this ✨️

my masterlist

Tw: mentions loss of friendships, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to be able to make it. Lew already asked me to go see him race that weekend, I have booked the flights and managed to clear my work schedule too", you said to your friend after she practically ambushed you into have a coffee with her after work, "c'mon, I don't even feel like we've seen eachother recently. You're either at work or with Lewis. It's like you don't have time for me, or rather don't make it", she groaned and you frowned. You met up with her not even 10 days ago, and while you couldn't see her everyday, you managed to text her back with reasonable timing everytime she had any issues or needed some comfort, so hearing those words and accusations for what you recalled the third time over the last few weeks threw you off. Was it really something you deserved? You wondered, maybe you really weren't being the best of friends given everything happening in your life.

"It's been hard, my schedule has been all over the place. I've been quite tired and I honestly just want to relax at home when I get back from work, we've had a lot of clients, which has been good for the business, but there's also been a lot more effort in making everything work smoothly", you tried to offer her your point of view, knowing yourself that there were days you could barely answer your boyfriend back simple questions, both of happy and content to either just cuddle when he was home or have a quick videocall whenever he was away, letting you get your deserved rest.

"Do you have everything, darling?", Lewis said over the phone as you fastened the zip on your suitcase, "yes. Angela said that she could come and meet me with my passes. Apparently there was an issue with printing them, my name or something, I'm not sure, but she said they were good now", you recalled, looking back at your boyfriend on the screen while he smiled, "I can't wait to have you here with me", he admitted, making your heart soft, "it's been really difficult, the car and all, and I know having you here will be good".

The next day, like you had arranged, you met up with Angela at the entrance of the GP, greeting her with a smile before she noticed it, "was your flight that bad?", she wondered, "you look a bit off, dear", she explained herself better, "it was okay, just had trouble sleeping because of this crazy schedule", you tried your best to brush it off. You had looked at yourself in the mirror, and had noticed the eye bags, the veins around your eyes much stronger and, truly, you knew no one would believe you were okay, but you guessed trying wouldn't be hard, and despite feeling like Angela caught on, she decided to drop the subject, handing you your pass and grabbing your suitcase once you reached the hospitality so she could store it in a safe place.

"Hey, Y/N", George smiled, greeting you as you both walked down to the garage, "Lewis mentioned you'd be joining us today", he said, opening the door for you before following you by your side, "the flight was delayed a little, and there was traffic here, or at least my driver said it isn't usually that busy, so I got here to the sound of the engines already", you pouted, grabbing a headset for yourself from the wall.

"I'll be in there with Toto and Mick, we'll speak later, okay? Carmen is also travelling tomorrow night", George said as he walked up to sit with the rest of the team, sitting this session out as they had chosen to have Frederik drive this session on his place.

The free practice sessions did not go all that well, especially considering how you knew Lewis and the whole team would have wanted them to go, so when Lewis came out of the last session, the team allowed them a few hours so they could rest up a little and get re-energised before debriefing.

"Hey, gorgeous", Lewis said as he walked up to you, "I'm so happy you're here", he mumbled against the thin skin on your neck, taking in your scent and presence as your arms wrapped around his torso.

"Do you want to talk about it?", you asked, running your fingers on his back as the slight scratch from your nails soothed him as you walked to sit on the sofa, "I can't bring the car to the front, it's like I can't do it. We've worked so hard on it, the team has come up with so many improvements and yet it still isn't reaching the front, there's no comparison", he let it put, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "and I can't do it either, it's my fault too, I just want to make us a competitive team again, having fights every weekend for the P1, and yet, here we are".

Kissing his knuckles, you looked up at him through your lashes, "it will all add up, my love", you caressed his skin, "there's no way your efforts won't be rewarded, you just have to keep going, keep fighting, keep rising", you smiled, seeing the corner of his lips move upwards, "one day at a time, all will be well, you just have to keep going, we just have to keep going with those we love most", you muttered, joining your foreheads so they could touch.

Silverstone always had a big buzz around it, so you always took the week off, "remember last year? Your friends also joined us for the party", Lewis recalled as you sat in the hospitality. Media duties had long been taken care of and Lewis wanted to hang out in the meal area in case anyone needed him before you retired to his room.

"Yeah, it was a good time", you mumbled, reliving the memories in your head. You had had dinner and partied until early hours of the night with some of your friends, who were that at the time.

The previous week, your friend had been very assertive when she called you to show her displeasure of your lack of effort to meet up with her, telling you how much you had changed and how it wasn't fair that you could only meet up once or twice a month, "it's not fair to us or to our friendship, so unless this changes, I don't see how we can carry on". The accusations were not false, you recognised that you couldn't be as present as much as before, but the premise she was holding it on seemed wrong to you. And as much as it bothered you and pained you, calling it quits was the best decision in the long run. You had enough things on your plate, and having to reassure her that you were still there for her despite all the mean comments and accusations she would throw at you, wether they were about how much time you spent working or how Lewis wasn't the right person for you, was not something you wanted to endure for your own well-being.

"How is she, by the way?", Lewis questioned as he drank his water.

"We are not friends anymore, things just didn't work out", you offered quietly, not wanting to dwell much on the topic or have your boyfriend worry about one more thing.

"Y/N!", Lewis heard Carmen call, seeing his teammate's girlfriend approach you, warmly greeting him as well before he left you two alone for some catching up, "call me if you need anything", your boyfriend said, kissing the top of your head sweetly before leaving you two to speak and moving to the table where Angela was sitting.

"Is she feeling better?", Angela asked him, nodding over to you with her eyes and smiling as you spoke to the spanish women, the genuine easiness radiating from you.

"Y/N? She's been well, I think...", he said, unsure of his own answer. You hadn't talked much about how you were feeling, and he definitely wanted to follow up on what you had just been talking about when you were comfortable, but other than that, he had no clue. Work had been busier as you received more clients and you needed a little more time to rest that usual, and you had been tagging out of plans family and friends tried to make with you. Maybe Angela was right and there was something going on.

"You should talk to her, see how everything is, Lewis. I know she has a habit of bottling everything, and while I figured she'd talk to you and bring it up, and that it would help, I'm not sure it's enough", she patted his back as she allowed him to process the situation.

Later that night, back in your hotel bedroom, you had just come out of the shower, grabbing your toiletries' bag so you could moisturise your skin, propping your leg on the bed so you could rub the product into the skin as you heard Lewis walk around the room.

As you moved to adjust your towell while you put on your underwear, you felt Lewis' hands on your shoulders before his lips pressed kisses to your clean skin, his touch so soft and tender that it melted you inside.

"Can we talk about something, darling?", he asked, moving to sit in front of you, taking his place on the bed as Roscoe joined him.

"Sure, love. Are you okay? Is something wrong?", you promptly offered, ready to be all ears to his worries as Roscoe found his perfect spot on the comforter.

"It's about you, actually", he said as you pulled your top on, leaving the towell on the bathroom before coming back to sit on the bed, "what about me?", you asked, unsure of the topic was.

"How have you been? And I don't want to hear 'I'm okay' or 'just tired from work', because that's most definitely not the truth", Lewis began, holding your hand in his, "I've been so blind to all of this, and I only noticed now just how much you're being affected, and I want to know what it is and how I can help you", he gulped, "I've been so caught up in my own things and I've missed this, I'm so sorry, Y/N", he looked into your eyes.

You knew you had been unable to hide it. And now, you couldn't escape it.

Taking a deep breath, you traced the tattoos on his hand, the seamless way the ink flowed mesmerising as you allowed yourself to become vulnerable to him, opening up about your friendships and how everything at work was both the thing that has been keeping you sane and afloat, but also buried in doubt.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't notice this", Lewis apoligised, "I've been so absorbed in getting the results we need for the team, and-", you interrupted him, knowing the wasn't the one to blame.

"Lew, I didn't want to burden you with this, it's my own doing, too", you admitted, wanting to stop the whole blame spiral going on between both of you.

"Still, I should've noticed", he tsked at himself, holding you in his arms as you cuddled into his chest, "you shouldn't have to go through that alone, no one should. I want you to tell me anything that bothers you. My career is not above us, it will never be", he said as he looked into your eyes, "and, for all that matters, the decision to end the friendship was for the better. And I know you know this, and it still hurts, and that's okay. Roscoe, buddy", he called, "come give mummy a big, big cuddle", he smiled as the dog attended to his request.

"I'm sorry, too", you said as you petted Roscoe, his snores showing you he was enjoying them, "just wanted to be a happy and cheerful partner, and support you", you reiterated.

"From now on, promise you'll tell me anything that bothers you?", he assured as you smiled, kissing his lips as a seal of your promise, "I promise".

"I love you, Y/N, and it's me, you and Roscoe against the world", Lewis said.

"Agains the world and the rest of the paddock?", you joked, "just about, yes".

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton fanfic #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

317 notes · View notes

boy-comics · 3 months ago

Text

RENT-FREE

── .✦ pairing; ♭form!o.de x gn!reader

── .✦ summary; chance leads you to oh seungmin. something else leads to you stay.

── .✦ word count; ~4.7k

── .✦ tags; swearing, mentioned family issues, discussions of death, fluff, hurt/comfort, romantic tension, roommates to friends to lovers(??), seungmom™, takes place in the "real" world

── .✦ a/n; ahahaha (lying in a ditch)

After graduating, getting a job, moving out, and doing all the other things one needs to do to be considered a real adult, you realize something: pride, that bright, delicate thing that you've clung to all these years, means very, very little.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's just until I find another apartment. I won't even argue with him anymore, Mama—"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but you should know why I can't trust you to do that."

You stare at your phone screen, the call time climbing up ever slowly. Your mother continues talking, her voice tinny through the speaker, trying to soothe your irritation without giving in, but you can feel your thoughts growing pricklier and pricklier with each reasoning.

Just kick him out for a little while, you want to yell at her, don't you care about your own kid having a roof over their head? Why choose that deadbeat over me?

"So what am I supposed to do, then, Mama? My roommate's gone and I can't pay rent all on my own. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know either. I'll ask around and see if anyone can help you out. But this is adulthood, honey; things like this happen, and you just need to figure out what to do."

If you could afford it, you'd throw your phone against the wall.

"… I know. Thanks, Mama. Talk to you later."

"Make sure to eat, honey."

Pressing the end call button, you drop your phone on your bed and scream into your pillow.

—

What you end up doing, all by yourself, is break your lease early and shoulder the penalty fees. Then you pack up what little belongings you have and camp out at an old classmate's place (just until your next paycheck at the most, you had promised), and work and search for apartments and search for roommates and sleep and eat and work again.

Your mother calls just as you're looking up motel prices. You don't want to pick up, but again, pride means very, very little.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hi. Are you still looking for a place?"

"Yep."

"Okay, good. I was talking to Oh Seungmin's mother. You remember him, don't you? You went to the same high school. He was on the basketball team."

Your brow furrows. "Oh Seungmin?"

"So you do remember him."

"… Yes."

You're sure he doesn't remember you, though. Oh Seungmin had always belonged to a different crowd than yours, a really different crowd, even if you did walk to and from the same neighborhood together for a brief time. If your mother is suggesting what you think she's suggesting, you must be thinking wrong, somehow.

"He lives somewhere near where you work. His mother talked to him, and he's willing to let you stay with him until you find something more permanent."

You blink.

"Honey? What do you think?"

"I—uh." Your cursor continues to hover over the room price typed in bold on your laptop, and as you absorb what has just been offered, it drifts down to the corner of the screen. "How much would I need to pay?"

"Ah. I forgot to ask. She gave me his number to give to you just in case, though, so just ask him. It's—"

You type down the number and save it, praying to whatever lives upstairs that this isn't the beginning of some awful cosmic joke.

—

You move into Oh Seungmin's place on a late Sunday morning in May.

"Do you need help unpacking?"

"No, it's okay." You gesture vaguely at your suitcase, backpack, and laundry basket of bed things. "This is it."

Seungmin nods, his eyes flitting between the three things containing your entire life. There is a smile on his face, small and polite but awkward, like he's entertaining a surprise guest despite having expected you for the past three days. "Oh, okay. Cool."

You smile back, just as awkward. This Seungmin is slightly different from what you remember. High school Seungmin was more outgoing, a star athlete and the dream of every girl in your class. In this small apartment in the shadier part of the city, he seems more subdued, a little lonelier around the edges. Or maybe that's only because it's you.

He is still absurdly good-looking, though.

"I didn't know if you were okay with the couch or a futon mattress, so both are out. I have extra pillows if you need them … you don't have a closet, so we could buy a foldable one or something and put it in the corner if you want."

"I'm okay with the futon mattress. And it's fine—I'll just keep things in my suitcase. I won’t be in your hair for long, anyway."

"All right." His fingers tap an oddly controlled rhythm along the side of his thigh—not that you were already looking, you just catch the movement at the edge of your vision—and then he clears his throat. "Well, I'll let you get your stuff unpacked. I made some curry rice so we can eat afterwards. Hopefully you'll like it. I think you told me it was your favorite, once, a long time ago."

Some of the ice on your tongue melts.

"It still is."

His smile cracks open a bit wider, a bit more genuinely. "Really? Nice. I'll get everything set up, then."

"I'll be quick."

The living room and the kitchen are squeezed together with no divider, so you are graced with the ambiance of clinking ceramic bowls and silverware while you set your things out to organize them. The faint smell of curry and rice that you had detected when you had first stepped foot into this home intensifies with the sound of the microwave running.

Eating lunch with Oh Seungmin is a simple affair that grows more comfortable with time. You go over the house rules and contributions again, and it's funny, you find, the way the two of you agree on things so easily despite not having talked in years. Then again, it is only the first day.

"There is one thing, though," Seungmin says, taking your plate along with his to rinse them in the sink. "I have a synthesizer and record a lot of music for work. I'll keep my door closed, but if you're here and it bothers you, just tell me. I'll use headphones."

"Oh," you say, surprised. You don't remember Seungmin having a strong interest in music. A synthesizer. That's interesting. "Okay, I'll let you know." A thought hits you and you ask conversationally, "Do you use ♭form at all?"

You don't have an account yourself, having put it off time and time again. Conversation, that's all you had intended. But as soon as you mention ♭form, it's like the shutters close, and Seungmin's tone shifts from open and friendly into something strange and even guarded.

"Sometimes. Just the audience and solo modes, though."

He changes the subject after that. Of course, you still can't help but wonder for the rest of the day, especially when he disappears into his room for the rest of the afternoon, strange and beautiful music trickling out from underneath the door.

—

Seungmin tells you that it's been a while since he's had people stay over, but despite his modesty, you find him to be a wonderful roommate.

"Are you done using the glass cleaner?"

"Yeah, it's in here."

Heading to the bathroom, you spot Seungmin dutifully spraying the shower with cleaner and hold your breath, grabbing the glass cleaner from its place on the floor and stepping back out quickly.

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah, it was right there," you say.

He turns around to check, and you can't help but grin. Standing like that in the bathroom, he almost looks like a harried mom, old baggy shirt tucked into equally worn sweatpants, hair messy, a mask covering the lower half of his face and large yellow gloves covering his hands. When he raises his eyebrows, you snort.

"What?"

"You look like a mom."

"Finish your chores," he says sternly, even waggling his head, and you laugh again before leaving to wipe the windows.

Cleaning day is surprisingly mellow in your temporary home. Seungmin has the bathroom and his bedroom while you take the kitchen and living room, and you're both quite efficient. The initial awkwardness at the beginning has eased significantly over the past week, and if you were feeling optimistic, you'd say that the two of you are friendlier now than you were as students—even if he does spend a lot of time in his room.

"Hey, you wanna do something after this?" Seungmin calls out. You hear the shower turn on, followed by the sound of water splashing over the walls.

"Like what?"

"We could shoot some hoops."

"Ha-ha, that's funny."

"Well, now we have to go shoot some hoops." You make a face, and even though he can't see it, Seungmin tacks on, "I'll buy you garlic cheese bread after."

"How many?"

"One plus one more for each basket you make."

Well. That's an offer you can't refuse. "Deal."

"Okay. After I clean the toilet, I'm gonna shower and then we can head out."

You finish vacuuming and mopping the floors by the time he comes out of the bathroom, hair toweled to a curly dampness and no longer smelling like bleach. He looks like a young, fashionable man again, and you think that it might have been a little easier to talk to him when he was masked up and rubber-gloved.

"Ready?"

"I'll still get one free garlic cheese bread even if I miss all the shots, right?"

"Yes, but you can't be that bad at basketball."

"Try me."

There's a basketball court about ten minutes away from the apartment complex that Seungmin frequents. There's another one that's closer, newer, but upon passing by and asking about it, you're told that he avoids that court because it's too popular.

"Isn't it better to play with a group of people?" you question.

He shrugs, head turning away from you. "I just like to do my own thing when I'm here."

(It strikes you as a bit odd, but you keep that thought to yourself.)

"We're here." Seungmin dribbles the ball for a few seconds, then passes it to you. "You remember some stuff from gym class, don't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can do it," you retort, passing the ball back. "Why don't you give an example and I copy it?"

Your companion turns and promptly shoots the basketball towards the hoop. It cuts a majestic arc through the air before falling through the hoop with a devastatingly clean swoosh.

You stare as he jogs down to fetch the ball, returning with a self-satisfied grin. "Okay, well, don't expect that kind of technique from me. I'm fine with my one bread."

"No, I'm going to make sure you get at least two. Here." Seungmin comes closer, plopping the basketball into your outstretched palms. "Just dribble it a little and pass it back and forth so you can get the feel for it."

You slowly bounce the ball on the concrete. It's haphazard, coming back up at different angles with no discernible rhythm, but you can actually keep it up for more than ten seconds. Clapping his hands, Seungmin shouts encouragement and gestures for you to pass it to him.

"What were you talking about? You're fine at this." The ball travels between the two of you several times before he points to the hoop. "Try to shoot."

Emboldened, you cradle the basketball in your dominant hand and stare up at the hoop. Aiming at the backboard, you launch it with a quiet grunt.

The ball hits the rim and shoots off to the side.

"... That's okay, that's okay! Try again."

You feel like the kid winning a pity prize at school. It really shouldn't be a big deal, with you being a whole-ass adult and all, but you can't prevent the frustration that roils up anyway as Seungmin tosses the ball back to you.

"I'm just going to miss."

"You won't know unless you try, right?"

When you roll your eyes at his sage-like wisdom, he sighs, circling around to stand behind you.

His arms come around to adjust yours into the right position, and you nearly choke on your own spit.

"Keep your shooting arm close." He taps the inside of your foot with the toe of his shoe. "Feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, 'cause the power comes from your legs. Your other hand is just there to guide. And follow through."

His voice is soft against your ear. You swallow dryly, only daring to breathe again when he steps away.

Oh, no.

"That easy, huh?" you croak, bending your knees.

"If you want it to be."

You shoot the ball. It soars upward—downward—hits the backboard, rolls along the orange rim and falls through the net.

You and Seungmin stare for a moment. Then Seungmin nudges you with his elbow and holds out his fist.

"Yo, yo, yo! Good job, [Y/n]-ssi!"

Your eyes roll again as you bump fists with him, but it's bashful this time, and you hate how exposed it makes you feel. "You're a literal mom and dad rolled into one."

"Does that make you my offspring?"

"Sure would beat being the offspring of my actual parents." You wince as soon as the joke leaves your mouth.

"Oh."

Seungmin blinks, and laughs a bit, but it's so obviously unsure that everything that's been going so right today veers into complete fuckup territory.

You dig your hands into your pockets and scuff your shoes. "... Sorry. Shitty joke."

"Ah, it's fine ..."

And yet, neither of you say anything more.

Shit.

While you rub your arms, hobbling towards the basketball rolling steadily towards the grass, you hear Seungmin follow. The scrape of his shoes against the asphalt peters out as you pick up the ball, and when you turn around, he's regarding you carefully. You find an interest in the words stamped onto the basketball.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really." You spin the ball in your hands. "I mean, it's not like you never knew, and nothing's really changed, and that's why I'm here in the first place. So."

Seungmin nods slightly and hums, scratching his nose.

"I didn't mean to kill the mood."

"No," he says immediately, "don't worry about anything like that. You're good company."

You look at Seungmin. He stares back, and for a brief moment, you remember a boy with the same dark eyes, under a similar sky, sitting with you at the corner of a convenience store after school because you didn't want to go home.

"Oh. Okay."

"You wanna try for a third garlic cheese bread?"

"Nah, you kinda killed the vibe with all that mushy gushy stuff."

Seungmin hisses through his teeth when you punch his shoulder. "Damn."

"Only joking. Can we go now, though? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, sure."

—

In the brief interludes where neither of you have anywhere to be, you and Seungmin inevitably gravitate towards one another. That's what happens when people get along, you guess, though it's been so long that it surprises you when Seungmin actually joins you on the couch with a tub of popcorn.

"That for me?"

"That for us," he corrects as you press play on the laptop and settle back into the cushions. "Is the volume high enough?"

"Oh." You lean forward again. "Now it is."

Seungmin had been neutral at best towards pirating a horror movie from five years ago—he could take them or leave them, depending on the quality—but you had cited its several awards and didn't want to watch it alone, so here he was, ready to pass judgment on your choice.

"Don't scream too loudly," he gibes as the music drops to a low simmer, "or the neighbors will complain."

You scoff, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "I'm right here if you need a shoulder to cry on, Seungmin-ssi."

Thirty minutes into the movie, both of you swallow your words.

You'd taken it as a sign of good taste that multiple reviews had credited Come Into My Head as providing nightmare fuel for weeks, but now you realize that good taste may not be in your best interest. Not when you're shaking like a leaf next to your roommate, who is sitting stiffly, nearly stone-like.

When the killer jumps out, both of you let out a shriek that triggers angry thumping from above.

"Shitshitshit." Another jump scare slashes across the screen, and you leap out of your skin when Seungmin's hand clamps down on your arm. "SHIT."

"Y-You're making my arm numb," you whisper, but you make no move to pry him off, eyes glued to the screen.

"Sorry—"

When the lead actor screams, you can't take it anymore and suffocate Seungmin's arm between your own, smashing your face into his shoulder with a pathetic whimper.

... Unfortunately, said shoulder ends up being so warm and muscular that you sober up from your fear-drunkeness long enough to be overcome with embarrassment.

"Uh." Your action seems to have the same effect on Seungmin, whose grip immediately loosens.

"I'm sorry," you blather, starting to pull away. "I swear I'm not trying to—"

"It's fine," Seungmin interrupts. "I, uh, don't mind if you don't. I'm kind of terrified right now?"

"Me too."

"Yeah."

The corners of his lips quirk upward. If it weren't for the gory, red lighting of the movie illuminating his face, and if you weren't so sure of his opinion on you, you would think that Oh Seungmin was blushing.

Yeah. You lean back until you're pressed against Seungmin once more, arms wrapped around his and shoulder pressing shoulder. His right hand reaches around to squeeze yours with every on-screen death and you can feel each joint of each finger over your own. I'm terrified.

—

It takes two whole weeks before shit hits the fan.

It had been an unexpectedly warm day, so you had decided to impulse buy some ice cream bars on the way back from work. Seungmin would appreciate it, being cooped up in the apartment with his synthesizer. You haven't been able to catch him outside his room for the past day. Maybe you could hang out and talk in the kitchen while you polished off one or two ice cream bars.

Sticking the box of chocolate-coated vanilla in the freezer, you quietly walk over to Seungmin's bedroom and examine the doorknob. There's no Do Not Disturb sign hanging from it, and it's not locked, which you take as the go-ahead to knock.

"Seungmin-ssi, I got ice cream."

You wait. No reply.

Frowning, you press your ear against the door, wondering if he's working on some music, but you don't hear anything. Of course, he could be using headphones for some reason.

"Hello?" You knock and then call for him once more, making sure to be loud. "Hey, I'm coming in."

With that, you enter his room.

Nothing seems out of place. That is, until you see Seungmin hunched over on the edge of his bed, hands trembling and forehead drenched with sweat.

"Seungmin!"

Stumbling over your feet to rush over, you grab ahold of his shoulders and shake him. Seungmin jolts and shivers, then looks up with wide, glazed eyes, and it frightens you so badly you reach up to grab his face. It feels cold.

"Hey. Hey! What happened?!"

He stares up at you, completely vacant, and then he finally blinks. It seems to trigger something because he starts gasping for breath, clutching your wrists as he registers your presence.

"What happened?" you repeat, voice cracking from the volume.

He winces. "I dunno," he rasps, wetting his lips. "I think we ... I think we broke the system?"

The use of we raises a flag in your mind, but considering the present circumstances, you put that aside for now. For all you know, his brain could be fried like an egg and churning out nonsense. "Broke what system?"

He looks down.

You follow his gaze. There is a pair of strange glasses on the floor by his feet. Hesitantly, as if you might get burned, you pick them up.

Upon inspection, you notice '♭form' faintly etched into the frames. There's a button on top of the left hinge, but nothing happens when you press it. Frowning, you press it again, only to curse when something neon red fizzles briefly across the lenses. Then it’s dead once more.

"Oh," you murmur dumbly. You look at him again.

Seungmin's lips press together, eyes still fixed on the glasses, and he swallows. His gaze then moves to you and the emptiness of it slowly ebbs away.

He is silent, despondent, and he takes a moment before he tells you something so sincerely it stuns you.

"That was the only place where I mattered."

And, truthfully, it feels like he's slapped you across the face.

You gape at him, throat suddenly tight, and when he continues to sit without another word, you shut your mouth so violently your jaw tingles.

The strange behavior makes sense now. The brief periods of dullness after leaving his room, the rare but suspicious checking out from conversations, the obsession with music. You had overlooked these things because the moments between them had been some of the best you’ve ever had. They had mattered to you.

Apparently, he had never felt the same way.

"You don't think you matter here?" you say, numb. Your grip tightens around the glasses. "What was the fucking point of all this, then?"

His brow furrows. "… What do you mean?"

It feels like prying open the shell of a living creature, exposing everything that's meant to be kept safely hidden away. You do not know why the living creature is you and not Seungmin. You don't know why Seungmin makes it so damn easy to spill your guts, revealing the self-centered and bitter parts of you that drive everyone else away.

"Do I not matter either?" you ask.

The sound of your own voice, angry and trembling, immediately disgusts you. You bite your tongue and turn away.

"What? Hey, that's not—"

"Nevermind. Forget it."

As you head straight for the door, you have this grand idea in your head that you're going to storm out of the apartment, spend a few hours blowing off some steam, and then return to pack up your stuff and stop adding to Seungmin's misery. But that would require you to be faster than Seungmin, and for his apartment to be large enough to create enough distance between you and him.

Reality unfolds as such: you getting one foot across the doorway, Seungmin grabbing your wrist, and you stopping far too quickly.

"That's not what I meant at all. I'm sorry, I'm just—just let me explain."

"I'm a little too pissed off to listen nicely, Seungmin-ssi."

"That's fine. As long as you believe me." When you look back at him, he squeezes your wrist. "Please stay."

He's pleading. His hand is clammy. And because your pride means so little, and because you have become so horribly attached—you stay.

You let him lead you back into his room to sit on his bed. You stay, and you listen as he starts from the very beginning.

By the time he's done, having explained the train, the fighting, the surreal time loop his band had just broken after what had seemed like days, you are just about ready to break down.

"So you're telling me that you've been wanted by ♭form for the past year?" you say, throat dry, and Seungmin nods. "What would've happened to you here if you died in there?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the pain sticks after I log off."

The pain sticks. Good god. You lean over and hold your head in your hands, feeling nauseous. "Seungmin-ssi, that's not okay. What the fuck."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't think you would be this upset if you found out."

"Of course I would? I live with you? Do you know how traumatizing it would be to come back from work and find out you're brain dead? Like, fuck," you laugh, feeling your lungs constrict, "oh, my god, what if I lost you?"

Seungmin is quiet. Then he says, almost whispering, "Lost me?"

The disbelief in his echo causes you to close your eyes. Everything is coming out now. You can feel them bubbling over, crawling out from between your ribs, thoughts and confessions that you have stuffed down for fear that they would be ridiculed.

He utters your name, the end of it curling upward in bewilderment.

"Seungmin-ssi." You take a deep breath. "You're kind, and caring, and the first person in actual years who I felt actually gave a shit about me. If something happened to you, I ... part of me would probably die too, I think."

It's too hot in his room. Your vision goes blurry, and you feel your nose start to burn. You sniffle. Hands falling into your lap, you dig your nails into the fabric of your uniform pants. You're sweaty and teary and miserably cracked open, and it's hot, and all you can do is sit and wait for his response.

Beside you, Seungmin shifts in place.

Then two arms wrap around you, warmth upon warmth, a cheek resting against the side of your head as he holds you.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me," he breathes. "I'm sorry for being so reckless with myself. I was ... I was wrong."

Your tears start to fall onto his shoulder. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I'm here." His hand ghosts up and down your back, the barest of tremors in his fingers. "You matter to me, too. So, so much."

Oh. A sob escapes your lips.

You're so selfish. Selfish for having him comfort you after what he went through in ♭form, selfish for dirtying his shoulder with your tears, selfish for feeling this way about him after so little time.

Selfish for wanting to stay.

You tighten your grip on the back of his shirt. Seungmin hums. He pulls away just slightly to look at your face, and you almost tear up again when he wipes the wetness from your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes glossier than normal.

"I'm sorry," you croak as he does so, reaching up to touch the dark circles under his eyes. "I didn't even check if you were okay. Are you okay?"

He chuckles a bit wetly, hugging you again. "I'm better now. Thanks for asking."

"Do you need water?"

"I'll get some in a few minutes. Don't worry."

"It's hot. I came in to ask if you wanted ice cream. I bought a box from the store."

"Oh, you did?"

Neither of you move, bodies pressed close, intertwined. You are buried in his scent.

"We can have them now," you offer, with effort, "if you want."

"Is that what you want?"

You bite your lower lip. "... If it makes you feel better."

His mouth presses against your temple. Against it, he admits, "It is hot. But ..."

He does not finish that sentence. But you understand, and something blooms, trembling, in your chest.

"Maybe later," you finish drowsily.

Leaning into him further, you hear his soft agreement, his hands stroking down your arms with a surety that had not been present before. He keeps you here, with him, real and breathing, living.

You are not alone. And neither is he.

Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for loving my prideless self. I'm glad we exist here, in this world, together.

#o.de x reader #ode x reader #oh seungmin x reader #xdh imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh ode #xh o.de #o.de #xdinary heroes #xdh #xh #flatform au #beecee's writing #xh one shots

46 notes · View notes