#it is the ultimate comfort read. the ultimate comfort watch.

[4rticbolt]

Death Of Pizzaz |Master-list|

Trafalgar Law x !Fem!Reader, fluffy, spicy, first kiss, yearning Law cause why not, make-out, he's a tease fr, you test his patience, bickering

You have some sharpies to your 'arsenal' and your dear captain is your victim...

Ya'll this is actually my favorite song, and new favorite fic.

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It was creeping into a late evening on the Polar Tang. The crew had tiredly retreated to their rooms after night watch had taken over in navigation. You quietly walked through the halls to your captain's room, surrounded in a dark hue from the seal covered windows and the dark sea. Small circular lights lit up your path, following from the floor to the stairs, overcasting a soft white glow throughout the sub.

You hopped down the final step, gently knocking on Law's door as you couldn't be bored any longer. You had spent about an hour trying to fall asleep, but ultimately you gave in and craved the presence of your lover. A muffled "Come in," sounded from the door and you casually strolled in, stuffing your hands in your pockets you created an unmistakable clink of sharpies you'd grabbed from your room.

A little decor couldn't hurt, could it?

Your captain was the unsuspecting victim as he hadn't taken his attention off the comic he was reading, something he'd have tossed and hidden if it wasn't for your familial gaze. You'd picked up on his nerdy tendencies a long time ago, and Law eventually excepted his fate, giving it up to share with you. His hair was an unkept and messy, something you had come to love along with his flimsy tank, praising the view it gave you.

“What are you doing?” Law rumbled, reclining silently against the couch as he'd stashed his hat and sword safely away by his desk.

“What I can’t have quality time?” You asked, feigning absolute innocence as you'd crawled into his lap, soaking up his touch. You always loved these quiet relaxed moments. And it wasn't often he let go like this, more-overly stressed and constantly planning for the future ahead, he was barely at ease.

But with you in his arms he could make an exception.

He let out a final hum in response. "Depends what your after," he noted, adjusting himself under your weight, shifting his back against the couch's armrest. Law soothingly brought his hand to rub over your shoulder, closing his eyes for a moment.

You quietly watched as he closed his comic in hand, unknowingly knowing he was listening to your heartbeat, which thudded softly against his upper thigh.

You didn't know it, but your captain tended to listen to your pulse for a sense of comfort, remembering you were there with him, and that you were real. That it wasn't some dream, and that he wasn't in some nightmare where you weren't.

He always adored when you were like this, needfully resting by his side away from prying eyes--though he'd never admit it. Law would let his guard down with you, settling still in your innocent embrace. He opened his eyes to watch you shift, taking in the way your head gently rested against his hip.

He thought it was a heartfelt gesture really, but when he felt you grab his arm and pull it to your chest he thought otherwise. A soft click emitted into the quiet room and a cold swipe crossed his skin leaving a confused noise to leave Law's lips.

"What the hell are you doing?" he voiced, quickly pulling away your wrist.

"Nothing, just gimme your arm," you replied, trying to grab it again.

"Seriously? ____ I'm not you're coloring book, no."

"Oh don't be so stuck up, it'll wash off eventually," you stubbornly grabbed his arm and continued to trace his tattoos, ignoring him completely. You were off in your own world now as you had your very grumpy captain to your demise. You didn't pay attention to the way he'd grumble or watch.

A few minutes passed and you'd finally fucked up before you scribbled over your design, "Okay, that's enough." Law cut sharp to your name, and grabbed you pen tossing it aside to his table.

"Really?" he deadpanned, taking in the scribbled pieces.

"What? It'll wash off."

"Yeah, in a few days, it's literally black sharpie you idiot," Law scolded, flicking your forehead with a scoff.

You let out your own huff, shifting in his arms to sit comfortably sit on his lap, relaxing your side against his chest. You closed your eyes when Law's arms wrapped around you again, and his lip quirked in amusement at your masked grumblings.

He often was firm with you--but it could never stay that way. Though his irritated expression relaxed as he called you name to intrigue your regard again.

“You realize these are permanent tattoos, right?” He asked, gently swiping him thumb across your right hip.

"Yeah, I just enhanced em' though." You said absentmindedly.

"I think you should get it re-tattooed like that."

. . .

Law snorted, manhandling you to face him, "I love your artwork and all but I think I'll post-pone that." he remarked, bringing his hands to your sides. You immediately faked a hurt look and he cracked. He couldn't look you straight in the eyes when they grew glossy like that, "You're serious?" he muttered swallowing unbelievably hard. You shattered his resolve, and he feared he might not be able to say no.

"You broke my heart Law, I put my soul into that." you said dramatically, seemingly putting an ease to his inner torment you caused...but it only irked him. He flickered you again creating a red spot and you quietly yelped, covering it.

He really thought you were serious, and he'd been a sucker enough to believe you.

"It just looks better," You retaliated, squirming in his arms as he'd reached a ticklish spot.

"Better? Really? You must've borrowed that shitty soul from one of Bepo's maps then," he snarked, cracking a smile as he'd finally gotten a laugh out of you. He'd come to love that sound the more and more he knew you, every day and every moment he loved to hear it, to see it.

Your chaotic remarks and energy were his livelihood, and he'd at times been too dense to see it. It had taken years before there's been an ounce of romance in your relationship, and that was after years of trustworthy hardships.

Law had finally backed you off his lap, putting an end to your 'assault,' which brought you to hide between his thighs with a muffled "Shut up!"

“Oi, don’t do that,” He stumbled, feeling a pit in his stomach. His arms quickly came up under your's, sliding you upright and back into his lap, which seemed to relieve the strange tension in his stomach. He'd been a fool to say it wasn't a common feeling. It felt strong, specifically and only for you. And he'd always been the one to try and ignore it.

He wasn't sexually inclined, as he said he didn't have time for it. It wasn't his main goal, and he didn't have time for lust and desire--meaning it wasn't his strong suit. You'd been the flirty type in the past, but if he simply wasn't ready--he wasn't ready; and you never held him to that.

“Don’t what?” You deadpanned, obviously irritated with the way he 'antagonized' you.

“Don’t pout,” he said, brushing off his blush as he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back to look at him. Law couldn’t tell if you were being dense or doing it on purpose. Either way: it was infuriating.

“I’m not.”

"You are," Law interjected, taking in your form atop him. His mind wandered and he knew he was in trouble. Because he knew that no matter what he tried to ignore, he was always wrapped around your pretty little finger; and regardless...that's all you were, trouble.

You for once, seemed to quiet. Finally put at a loss for you own words with his firm tone. Your voice practically died in your throat and you couldn't help but question his intense gaze, you hadn't seen him look at you like that before...

Maybe once or twice but never like that, and it pissed you off when he could put you in your place before you could even begin to argue.

"I. am. not." you acted, challenging him as you leaning forward, bringing your hands to his chest--attempting to hold your ground. But it faltered when he drug his hand to your throat, and that god awful smirk cross his face.

“Mm, yeah not anymore,” He whispered, overthrowing your feigned little flirty act, gently squeezing your throat. He saw your face light up and he let out a whispery laugh.

On the other hand, you were internally panicking, opting to lean back--because Law had never been this forward with you! He'd been dense about that kinda thing, but obviously this was not the freaking case.

You swallowed against his hand, leaning back, but his lips caught you before you could own up to it. You swore you heard a groan leave his lips before it swallowed your own, and your head spun. You leaned forward, shifting your hips to push against his--and it only seemed to encourage him.

His free hand squeezed your hip, and the hand around your throat tightened, though it was uncomfortable. It was more like a handle for him to hold you. Regardless, your breath shuddered and you forced yourself to breathe through your nose. He'd caught you off guard and you couldn't seem to get a grip.

You finally parted to breathe and his own blush matched your own. He gave a whole lotta' talk and do behind his pose, but deep down he was just as flustered as you.

"Don't be a smart ass," you muttered, bringing his hand away from from you, but it only tightened around your smaller hand...

“Then don’t stick your head where it doesn’t belong.”

. . .

"You--I didn't--"

"What?" he asked impassively, blankly holding your hands in his own. He shifted causally beneath you and he was doing it on purpose...that sarcastic bastard.

"Don't what me you know what!" you snapped, trying to pull your hands away, but he held on. His smirk grew and your blush heightened.

"What you like my hand around your throat? Figured, I didn't know it'd shut you up though." he said lowly.

"Trafalgar Law!"

[diorcities]

⠀   ⠀ ── . 🛹 𖦹 ⋆ ࣪.  dream in college

happy reading. requested. library.

haechan: leather jackets. a different vape every day. smoking in the parking lot at night. he always carries a pair of headphones, wired ones. talks with everyone but lowkey lonely. attends to parties often, he's the guy you'd ask your friend to introduce you to. he's an open book, but at the same time he's full of secrets. if you take away all the jokes he makes, he's actually intelligent. relaxed. he'd probably do well in economics or administration. a first-class heartthrob, flirting comes out lightly and easily. or so they say, because when it comes to you, haechan is just a whole bunch of babbling and gaffes.

chenle. law or finance. he sees himself managing his family's company. no one beats him in class discussions, no one except you. you'd probably start a rivalry that grows and grows until you can't stand to see each other in the same place. expensive cars, elite parties, and a scandal in a hotel room. although his parents have mansions and luxurious apartments all over the world, he prefers the comfort of university dormitories. he doesn't attend parties much, his father cut off his credit card when he gave the whole party rounds of alcohol last time. he's pretty good at the dead stare when someone says something stupid. probably has the appearance of being petty, but in reality he's a moron with a lot of money. has a soft spot for smart girls, that's why he can't stand liking you.

mark. he misses most of the classes, but he's a brainiac. a bit popular but only because he's friends with popular people. doesn't know how he got the girl. architecture or robotics. he doesn't like parties very much but he attends because you're there. loud music on headphones. paper crafts . love letters. if you invite him home to study, you end up watching movies. and then when you fall asleep on his shoulder, he has no choice but fall asleep with you, head over yours. his hand somehow ends up intertwined with your fingers when you wake up. he's definitely not calm when it comes to you. he always shows how much he likes you. you simply don't read his misinterpreted signs well.

jeno: parent's sweetheart. multifaceted. bruises and sweat from the lacrosse team. he must maintain his sports scholarship by getting good grades, so he asks you for help. to you? a four-eyed one? what a horror! he breaks the prototype of a tough boy, he doesn't really know how big and strong he is. sometimes he gets tongue tied when he gets nervous... it happens a lot around you when you ask him big questions. he hasn't decided a career yet, so he takes some basic subjects. you make it look easy, he wishes he could have your brain, but he's satisfied with hearing you talk and talk and talk... he is also an easy sleeper. if he goes to parties it's because he's dragged you with him, but in the end his friends get all his attention and he leaves you at your mercy. his eyes, however, stay on you at all times, and his gaze becomes heavier when he sees you talking to a guy across the room.

jaemin: founder of the group of loners. a pair of girlfriends with one boy. he's always in big crowds but usually because he makes friends with outgoing people, so he ultimately attends to some parties. he's the guy you ask to take care of your drink when you go to the bathroom. physics and engineering. that he doesn't talk much attracts attention, he doesn't realize he's alluring because of that. you always see him waiting for someone on your way home, his gaze detaches from his phone the exact time you alert his presence. you're the last one out of the building. there's no reason for him to be waiting for someone, unless that person has left him standing. but you don't worry much and you continue on your way; perhaps, on another occasion, jaemin will be brave enough to confess that whenever you see him outside, it's him, waiting for you.

jisung. became popular without knowing how. college jackets, non-prescription glasses, karaoke nights. being shy makes him charming to cheerleaders. he's not very good at drinking, so he's always sprawled on a couch neglected by his friends at a party, always in your care out of obligation. quite lighthearted, sometimes you understand why people find him attractive. he'd go for whatever career his best friend chooses, he doesn't really care. he's gets talkative, and affectionate when drunk, telling you repeatedly how much he loves you and that he would choose you a thousand times over anyone. you only asked him if he wanted water.

renjun. painting or sculpture. quiet bus ride. childhood friends. shared headphones. in one way or another you distanced each other at college. now he has new friends, but keep waiting for you after class. don't go to parties much, he sometimes prefers to stay at home, he doesn't really like the idea of seeing you hook up with guys. he tucks you to bed when you knock on his apartment by mistake, and kisses you back even though you're drunk. or maybe you weren't. every time he has to paint or sculpture the model on top of the podium in the middle of the class, his gaze doesn't even pay attention to them, and he ends up drawing you.

[hoonieyun]

question and answer

welcome to, "is he mr. right?", the dating game! where a lucky girl who is looking for love has the opportunity to go on a date with four handsome and eager bachelor's who are also looking for love.

this is an interactive dating show au where the readers can vote on "yn's" decisions, ultimately leading to who she will be with at the end... but more on that later!

heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon

warnings: not much! lmk if i need to add smth though! 18+ not proofread.. hehe!

wc: 3631

episode two: question and answer

the reception you received from the first episode was very kind. you didn’t expect so many people to like your personality and to root for you to find love. you were scrolling on social media and looking at the comments about you from the first episode, people were posting clips from the show and screenshots of their favorite moments. 

“yn is so pretty. how is she single??”

“yn if you don’t find your mr. right, i will be mr. right for you.” 

“does yn like girls… by any chance?” 

you laughed as you read some of the comments, grateful that people were so kind and complimentive towards you. you’re waiting for filming to start as you sit in your makeup chair, the hair and makeup stylist doing their part to make you look tv show ready. they had provided you with several outfits to choose from and although they were all very pretty, you decided to choose the blue outfit as it seemed to be the most comfortable to wear for long hours on end. 

they had done your hair the same way as the first time and kept your makeup simple, just the way you liked it. you had gotten pretty close with the stylists because they were taking care of you and it felt nice to have other women on your side as you tried to navigate the world of tv dating shows. 

“yn, 5 minutes until we start filming. we need you in your spot.” one of the PAs says as he pops into your dressing room with a knock. you give him a nod before the stylist does their final touches and wish you good luck. you thank them with a small hug and follow the PA to your spot so that filming could begin. 

you weren’t necessarily nervous anymore to film after how great the first episode went and how nice everyone has been to you online. you were also excited to get to know the bachelor’s of the show as you hadn’t learned anything about them from the previous episode. you weren’t allowed to watch the episode so everything you saw last night was only provided to you by the show’s production team. they took your personal phone and provided you with one from the show, it only had a few things on there where you could only see content about what people are saying surrounding you that the show picked out for you to see and document your personal thoughts for the show’s behind the scenes. 

there seemed to be so much more that went into filming a show and you were grateful to just be on the other side of the camera where you didn’t have to think much about the logisitcs that went into making a whole tv show. 

you can hear the love guru doing her usual routine of getting the crowd hyped up for the episode and setting up the structure for the second episode. she explains that this episode would be focused on the question and answer where you would have the chance to ask the bachelor’s questions to learn more about them. 

the production team had given you a list of questions to ask the boys and from that you chose a certain amounto of questions that you would have to give to production so they can build the storytelling of the episode around those questions. 

before you knew it, you were once again being announced by the host but this time you would be walking down the stairwell they had built for the set that was in the center of the stage. you smiled brightly and waved towards the audience as you walked down the stairs and made your way towards the love guru, a stool waiting for you to take a seat on. 

“hi, yn! how is our little dove doing?” she asks and you tell her you were excited and so happy to be there. the love guru briefly touches on what happened in the last episode and even brings up all of the positivity you’ve been receiving online. 

“from what i’ve seen, everyone has been really nice to me! so shout out to production for only showing me the nice comments and keeping the mean ones away.” you jokingly say and the audience laughs along with you and the host. 

“of course! we try our best to uplift our contestants so all of those assholes online can kiss my ass.” the love guru says, winking and blowing a kiss towards the camera. “so, i’m sure you know how this episode will go, we’re going to bring out our bachelor’s and you’ll be able to ask them questions so you can get to know them better before you ask them on a date.” she explains while you nod and smile in response. 

“ready?” she asks and you enthusiastically answer. 

the crowd goes wild as the parition slowly descends from the sky, blocking your view of the boys as they all take turns walking down the stairs and taking their seats. the love guru greets them one by one and asks them a few questions before going into the nitty gritty, the Q&A. 

“well, i’ve done enough talking, now it’s time for our dove to get to know our bachelor’s. yn, what is your first question and who is it for?” the love guru asks and before you ask your first question, you take a deep breath and take a look at the cards in your hand that have the questions written on them. 

“i’ve only got a few questions but i think they’re the perfect questions for me to get to know all of you… so here it goes..

this question is for all of the bachelor’s, do you believe in love at first sight?” you ask and the crowd interjections with a curious sound while you wait for their answers. 

bachelor no. 1: no, i don’t; but i think that love is built on memories and if your first sight with someone is the stepping stone to love then, sure.  bachelor no. 2: yes but i think it isn’t always romantic, sometimes when you see someone for the first time you know they’re going to be a part of your life forever. so, yes? kinda..? haha.. bachelor no. 3: yes, i feel like knowing how you feel about someone at first glance is really important because it’s your first impression of them and when you feel those sparks and it seems like a love song is playing in your head; you know that it’s love.  bachelor no. 4: i would say… yes! i’ve definitely felt like i’ve loved someone when i’ve first seen them but it doesn’t mean it will last, sadly. i probably shouldn’t say this but that’s how i felt about my ex, seeing her for the first time i knew i’d love her and i think that’s something that people should experience with love at least once in their lives. 

you processed their questions and although you appreciated all of their responses, bachelor number one’s short and clear response stuck out to you, especially because he was the only one that said that he doesn’t believe in love at first sight. you also took the time to take in their voices, tone and inflection, and how they’d look depending on their voice. 

it was hard to try to come up with how you think they would look but you took note of their voices and how it made you feel. one had an australian accent, another was smooth like honey, one was deep and low, while the other was surpassingly comforting. 

“interesting answers guys.. personally i don’t believe in love at first sight because you can never know if you love someone until you’ve grown to learn who they are but i loved all of your answers…

bachelor’s one and three… who is your favorite person?”

there was a comfortable silence as the two bachelor’s tried to come up with their answers, you watched as the crowd intensely watched the guys on the opposite side of you to read their reactions but there wasn’t much besides furrowed brows and heart eyes for them. at least you could deduce that they’d be handsome even if you don’t know how they look. 

this was an important question for you, one that you had asked to write in, and although you wanted to ask all of them this question, production only allowed you to ask two of them because they had chosen certain questions to be for all or some. 

bachelor no. 1: my favorite person is my mom. it may seem like a generic answer but she’s the best person i’ve ever met. she is kind, loving, and everything i owe my happiness to. she’s taught me how to live a life where i won’t regret who i was and will be proud of the person i become. she’s my hero.  bachelor no. 3: my favorite person would be my dad. i attribute a lot of things to him because he introduced me to many things as a kid to allowed me to exercise my brain in different ways. he was a strong, respectable, and kind man and he’s fully supported me in everything i do and i know it’s cliché but i wouldn’t be the man i am today without my dad. 

both bachelor’s answers were very touching and it made your heart swell to know that both of them answered with a family member in mind. family values were important to you but it wasn’t a deal breaker; it’s just nice to know that they have people in their family that support them. you watch the crowd closely as you listen to their answers and much like before, it was all adoring looks and you couldn’t help but feel more eager to meet them all as you take in their responses to your questions. 

you also make a point to remember that bachelor number one had spoken quite a bit and knowing it was because he wanted to share his admiration and love for his mom, it was very endearing. 

bachelor number three’s answer also brought the same type of warmth as number one since both of them chose one of their parents. you loved to see that they both admired their parents and attributed the good things in their lives to the way they were raised and treated by their parents. 

“for bachelors two and four… give me your best pickup line!” your question is instantly met with laughter and cheers as people seem to think the question is very amusing as everyone in the studio awaits the two bachelor’s pickup lines. this was a question on the list they had given you and you thought it was a good way to test their charisma and humor. 

bachelor no. 2: if you had three wishes, what would you wish for? well… i guess you only have two wishes left now that i’m here.  bachelor no. 4: do you play soccer? because you’re a keeper!

the crowd laughs at both men’s pickup lines and although you weren’t expecting much as the question to you was more of a personality test than anything serious like the question you had asked prior, it told you a bit about each of them. 

bachelor number four must play soccer since he was keen to include soccer in his answer opposed to just using a typical pickup line while bachelor number two surprised you with his answer. it was not only a pickup line you hadn’t heard before but it was smooth and you could feel butterflies form in your stomach as if he said it to you directly while looking into your eyes. it was so direct yet playful. his voice also added to the effect, it was deep and smooth; like a warm cup of tea. comforting.. 

the other guy’s voice felt oddly familiar to you but you weren’t sure why. his accent was strong and it definitely lingered in your mind as you replayed his voice over and over. it was sweet and you could tell the crowd loved his accent as they’d swoon whenever he spoke– you found yourself intrigued but not in the same ways the crowd had fallen for him. maybe you just needed more time.. 

“wow! those surely were some pickup lines..” you say with a chuckle and the crowd laughs alongside you and the love guru as you poke a bit of fun at their pickup lines as if you didn’t enjoy them. 

“okay, this question is for number one and four: in one action, how would you impress your girlfriend’s parents when meeting them for the first time?” this question was somewhat important, obviously you cared what your parents thought about your boyfriend but it doesn’t necessarily mean it would be the end all be all if they didn’t like him, unless he did something incredibly bad, then yeah; it’s over. this question was more to test their skills with parents and a way for you to analyze they’re ability to present themselves to people that mattered a lot to you. 

“now remember boys, these are all hypothetical questions BUT we are airing this show so our dove’s parents will most likely see this.” the love guru adds in and all of the boys nod as if they weren’t aware of that circumstance in the first place. 

bachelor no. 1: for me, i’d probably take care of the whole night. instead of meeting them half way to some restaurant or having her parents take care of the meal, i’d plan the meeting myself and all they’d have to do was show up. that way i can show them that i’m not only capable of taking care of their daughter, but also them.  bachelor no. 4: i would impress them by showing her parents how well i know their daughter. i think a lot of parents are turned away from their children’s partners because they think they may not be worthy but by showing how well i know their daughter on more than just a superficial level, i think i’d make a good impression. 

both of their answers were very good, you were constantly impressed with bachelor number one’s answers because they were so well thought out and clear but number four’s seemed to always leave you with a sense of curiosity that led you to want to know more. “number four, can you elaborate? what do you mean by “more than just a superficial level””? you asked with a shrug and everyone’s eyes were glued onto him. 

it was like he was put under a spotlight and although you didn’t mean to do that, you were genuinely curious and wanted to learn more. 

number four didn’t hesitate or falter to answer, “by that i mean i want to show them that i know their daughter enough to take care of and that means also knowing everything about who and what she loves. i’d do my best to accommodate and alleviate all of her worries, always consider how things would affect her and doing that will show her parents just how much i love her. of course i can go on and on about how much i love their daughter, but showing them is a lot more effective, don’t you think?” 

it was in that moment that the familiarity you felt with number four finally hit you, the realization was like when you suddenly realize you may not have turned off the stove or if you had forgotten to lock your front door.. an uncertainty that lingered and it instantly made you feel anxious. 

“everything ok?” the love guru asks as if she had caught onto your shift in behavior. you nodded and put on a smile that was convincing enough because everyone cheered as you straighten yourself out and moved onto the next question. 

“okay! moving on..” you say with an awkward chuckle, one that doesn’t go unnoticed by quite literally everyone in the studio, you even noticed a weird expression from one of the cameramen.

“numbers two and three, how would you react if your girlfriend introduced you to her best friend who happens to be a boy?” although there was a clear answer to this question and you didn’t even have a best friend who was a boy, you wanted to hear their answers and have it be in front of an audience just in case that they ever turned their back on their word.

bachelor no. 2: i’d be like… that’s cool. to be honest i’d be somewhat intimidated, not because he’s a man but because he probably will be protective over her so he’s just another person’s trust i’d have to gain. my girlfriend’s friends are my friends.  bachelor no. 3: i wouldn’t care much. i’m secure enough to know that my girl only has eyes for me and that we can trust each other. we’ll become friends because of our mutual love for her. 

their answers weren’t anything out of the ordinary but you liked that number two admitted to the possibility of being intimidated by another man but following it up with his reasoning made you breathe a sigh of relief knowing that he was secure in his manhood– same with number three. 

“this is my last question and its a very important one.. if you were a season.. what season would you be?” you had hyped up the question like it was some complex and well thought out inquiry but it was very simple– but to you; it told you a lot. 

bachelor no. 1: autumn bachelor no. 2: fall bachelor no. 3: winter bachelor no. 4: spring

you were a bit surprised that no one said summer because you associated summer with joy and hanging out with loved ones– but it wasn’t your favorite season either. 

to you, summer means spending time with your loved ones, being outside in the sun, enjoying the warmth on your skin, being lively, bright, and energetic. summer was bright and wild, something for the extroverts. 

spring was about renewal and rebirth, a fresh start, and a way for people to enjoy something new. it’s for people who look forward to the first ray of sunlight after winter because it represents perseverance but also a new day. it’s like stepping outside after being cooped up indoors all day and taking your first breath of fresh air. 

autumn, a fairly popular season, is all about cycles. when the leaves fall from the trees after they transition to the array of vibrant colors that represent warmth partnered with the crisp air that fall brings; this season is for those who find comfort in the simpler things like enjoying the way leaves crunch beneath their shoes or slowly watching the last leaf fall from a tree. it’s a season that brings warmth despite often being chilly. 

winter, of course, is usually connected with the holidays. the icy cold air and the fluffy white snow, it’s nostalgic as you’re reminded of the holidays as a kid. hot chocolate made by your mom without her reminding you to put on warm socks and a sweater, getting excited to open gifts, looking out the window with wide eyes as you wait for the first sign of snowfall. winter was nostalgia with a mixture of desire as you think about the new year. 

“thank you guys! i won’t elaborate further but telling me what season you’d be tells me a lot about yourself.. think of it as a little secret just for me! 

i really appreciated all of your answers, they were all so thoughtful and funny and i’m very excited to get to know more about each of you as we go on dates these upcoming weeks!” you announce and the crowd cheers as they all get excited for the upcoming episodes where you’d go on a date with all of the boys and finally get to meet them. 

you thought about the dates too, since you had no control over the dates and the boys would be the one planning it out, you were a bit nervous.. it also doesn’t help that the audience today and those watching at home are the ones choosing who you go on a date with first. you also recalled the awkward tension between you and one of the bachelor’s. the wall separating the two of you was so thick yet so thin, like it was a veil that served no purpose to it’s intended use. 

there was no reason for you to feel that way with him since you didn’t know him so you just tossed it up to nerves and that you were equally nervous to meet all of the boys.. even if you were more nervous to meet one over the others for no apparent reason besides of a weird inkling. 

you’ve began to tune out the rest of the filming as you get in your head a bit, not paying attention to the love guru as she signs off for the show’s closing; nudging you a bit to pull you out of your thoughts as you say goodbye to the crowd and blow a cheeky kiss to the camera, one that is received well by the crowd as they applaud in glee at your gesture. 

“isn’t she cute, guys?” the love guru says and with a simple phrase, the producers and directors call for the end of filming. you immediately get up from your seat and jog to your dressing room, earning awkward stares from the production team and the crowd. 

all of the bachelor’s unaware of your sudden action. 

prev ep 𐐪♡𐑂 next ep

hoonieyun notes: the mystery begins!! you guys now have the opportunity to vote on who you want yn to go on a date with first based on the answers to her questions! keep in mind that the pictures do not reflect who each bachelor's are depending on what or who answered for the question the pictures are sectioned with or the order of the photosets. it's simply just for visuals as how i think they'd dress for this week's episode! don't forget to vote below but i will be ending the poll two days early so i can write out the chapter and leave it a bit of surprise on who won the poll! also PLEASE leave your theories below on who you think each bachelor is based on the answers!! i tried to match it the best i can to what i think each hyung line member would say :3

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

@berries-n-blues @simsungsims @softpia @enhastolemyheart @ilovbeshotaro @zwithae @pjselee @heebear @milanco @bbsantc @elairah @wintereals @mariahxrrera @wonuziex

[babylipsbaby]

♡ a modern girls guide to being a 2010s it girl: issue #04 ♡

Snow Day Activities

♡ Bubble Baths & Good Vibes ♡

When the weather outside is meh, it’s the perfect excuse to pamper yourself! Run a steamy bubble bath (or take a long, relaxing shower) with your favorite bath goodies; Lush, Bath & Body Works, or whatever makes you feel fancy. Follow it up with your skincare routine, slap on a face mask, and maybe even treat your hair to a deep-conditioning treatment. Don’t forget a mani-pedi! By the time you’re done, you’ll feel like a whole new person.

♡ Sugar, Spice, & Everything Nice ♡

Being snowed in is the perfect excuse to get your inner baker on. Whip up some cookies, brownies, or even a fancy meal you’ve been wanting to try. Not only will your house smell amazing, but the warmth from the oven? Instant cozy vibes. Oh, and don’t forget to snap a pic for the ‘gram!

♡ Snowflakes & Selfies ♡

Playing in the snow is fun, but a winter wonderland photoshoot? Elite. Pick out a cozy-but-cute outfit, grab a tripod (or balance your phone on literally anything), and snap some aesthetic shots! Bonus points if you bring in some fun props; mugs, fairy lights, or even the snow itself.

♡ Netflix and Chill ♡

Cold weather = the ultimate excuse to curl up under a blanket and watch all the good stuff. Rewatch your comfort movies (Legally Blonde, The Devil Wears Prada, or literally any rom-com), catch up on your fave shows, or finally start that Netflix series everyone’s been talking about. Bonus points if you make popcorn and hot cocoa for the full cozy experience!

♡ Read, Relax, Repeat ♡

Snowy days are made for curling up with a good book and a warm drink. Whether you’re into fantasy, thrillers, or a cheesy romance, now’s the time to escape reality for a bit. Snuggle up in your comfiest blanket, sip on some tea or cocoa, and let yourself get completely lost in another world.

♡ Work it Out, Babe ♡

Cozying up all day is great, but don’t forget to get your body moving! If you can’t hit the gym, try a fun YouTube workout: try an at-home routine, do some yoga, or even have a little dance party in your room. Exercise doesn’t have to be boring, just find something that makes you feel good!

♡ Slay The Snow Day ♡

Being snowed in means a no judgment zone. Ever wanted to try an Aria Montgomery smokey eye? Go full VS Angel? Or perfect that King Kylie makeup look? Now’s the time! Play around, take some selfies, and find what works best for you.

♡ Perfect Your Messy Bun ♡

Just like makeup, your hair deserves a little experimenting, too! Try out new curl techniques, master the perfect messy bun, or even test a new braid style. No pressure, just a chance to get creative and have fun!

♡ Manifest Your Aesthetic ♡

You finally have time to reorganize your Pinterest boards, update your Tumblr, or refresh those old playlists. Your aesthetic deserves some love, too! Whether it’s revamping your mood boards or creating the ultimate main character energy playlist, use this time to craft your perfect vibe.

♡ New Hobby, Who 'Dis? ♡

You know that hobby you swore you’d try but never got around to? Now’s your moment! Whether it’s knitting, painting, scrapbooking, or making your own jewelry, take some time to be creative. Not feeling artsy? Try baking, journaling, or even learning a new language. Who knows? You might just find your new obsession.

Use #mgg2010 to find every issue!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Previous Issue: Winter Outfit Staples

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Next Issue: coming soon!

[academyofbrokenhearts]

I have finally finished reading Blossom. Happy ending in the novel too, although a lot of things were vastly different; the main couple, of course, remained superior until the end.

Things we got in the novel that I am glad didn't make it into the series:

Dou Zhao, an adult woman, scheming and navigating complex familial relationships while in a two year old, then a five year old body. I get how it might be interesting for some, but it was incredibly boring for me, and since she managed to neutralise her stepmother quite early on, I saw no need to spend so much time watching her building up and managing relationships with everyone in the Dou family. Moreover, I am glad that the size of the family was trimmed down (I still can't make sense of all the relationships presented in the novel) and some characters were changed compared to how they were in the novel; it was amazing to see Grandma, who had been only a concubine in the book (and therefore couldn't even be called Grandma by Dou Zhao according to customs, let alone have any kind of power), turning into a formidable matriarch, and it was also cool to see Zhao Zhangru as the constant sidekick;

no Song Mo until 114 chapters in. I must confess that my main fascination in both the series and the novel was the relationship between the mains, and the fact that he is only mentioned once or twice before his first dramatic appearance was definitely not enough for me;

way too much time spent on side characters; like I said in a previous post, did I really need to know in detail how Suxin and Sulan ended up serving Dou Zhao? And it felt even more useless since in the novel they end up getting married and leaving the Song Manor, and only getting mentioned in passing from that moment on;

Things I wish would have made it into the series, but did not (and some of them could have never made it, unless the entire censorship board would have been in a coma):

all the sexual encounters between Song Mo and Dou Zhao. Like in the series, the start of their physical intimacy is quite slow, they don't consummate during their wedding night (but unlike in the series, it's not because she prepares a period PowerPoint presentation, it's simply because he knows the next days as newlyweds will be tiring, and just wants to allow them to rest). Unlike in the series, no one is cockblocking Song Mo (in fact, their subordinates are even alarmed at the lack of consummation), and when he decides to make a move on Dou Zhao, he does it, and no one dares to interrupt. They make love quite regularly from that moment on, and I like how Dou Zhao's reluctance is gradually melting away, and how the novel is clearly stating that she enjoys the encounters just as much as he does, and even becomes bold enough to initiate later on;

them being parents. I know we get that one cute scene with their daughter at the end of the series, but Song Mo is such a good dad and husband in the novel, constantly prioritising Dou Zhao's comfort and being just as involved in the child's rearing as she is (to the point that their son learns to say Papa before Mama). I surely wish we would have seen more of that in the series.

Song Yichun does not die in the novel. He is, in a delightful twist of fate, forced to expel Song Han from the family, a treatment he had hoped to apply to Song Mo, and is left disabled after Song Han attacks him. Moreover, the daughter he had switched at birth with Song Han is discovered alive, Song Mo takes her under his protection, and she gets married and lives happily. I surely wish karma would have hit the old man in the face like this in the series as well.

Other things that got changed which I am fairly neutral about:

Song Mo and Dou Zhao's backgrounds in life 1. I have to say I loved how the series made it crystal clear that life 1 was an utterly doomed timeline, with both of them being betrayed and ultimately killed, while the entire country was burning. Life 1 in the novel was bleak in a different, more subtle, way. Dou Zhao dies after a long illness, almost completely devoid of any human warmth - the novel tells us that both her sons with Wei Tingyu are distant, as a result of her being too busy with household matters to be able to form a bond with them, and the only warmth she gets is from her daughter, a child she had after forcing herself to have sex with her husband once more (she had trauma from miscarriage), hoping she could get pregnant again and alleviate her loneliness somewhat. And Song Mo, unlike in the series, is a very powerful figure after the coup, but is perceived as merciless (having slaughtered both his father and brother), cynical (he never finds out the truth about his uncle's death, and never bothers to) and, in the end, utterly, utterly alone;

the dynamic between them after the rebirth. Unlike in the series, where they forged a bond in life 1 which was the basis for their relationship as adults in life 2, in the novel they meet as teenagers (when he is 13 and she is 14), and he is more or less smitten from the beginning, whereas she fears and despises him at first, gradually starting to understand him the more their paths cross. While in the series, they are already both in love by the time she accepts his proposal (having gone through a lot of adventures together that strengthened their bond), in the novel, he is the one with the huge crush, while she accepts his proposal for more pragmatic reasons, trusting that he is capable and will support her in the way Wei Tingyu was unable to. But the attraction between them is mutual, and I really liked watching her slowly but surely falling in love with him due to his constant care and attention towards her;

Song Mo is way more calculated in the novel than in the series, where he's simply feral and would wreak havoc at any given moment were it not for Dou Zhao and her more sensible approaches. It makes for an interesting dynamic in the series, where they pretty much compliment each other, but I must confess I loved his scheming and 5D chess playing in the novel;

Dou Ming's entire character. Unlike in the series, which presented a nature versus nurture situation, with Dou Ming being shrewd in life 1 after being raised by her mother, and a sweet, innocent girl in life 2, as a result of not being raised by her mother, in the novel, Dou Ming exhibits jealousy from an early age, and constantly feels inferior, which ultimately results in her taking Dou Zhao's place as Wei Tingyu's wife. Their marriage is unhappy, as, just like in the series, he is not very smart and doesn't like facing difficulties. Unlike in the series, she doesn't die (she's too petty to die), but it's clear by the time she makes her last appearance in the novel that her life is miserable, and there is no chance of improvement;

Wang Yingxue is not even half as cunning and manipulative as her series counterpart; she fails to charm Dou Shiying in any meaningful way (he is never in love with her and only wants to take her as a concubine because they had a sexual encounter while he was drunk, and he wants to save face) and ultimately she pushes him away, becomes a pariah in the family and is sent to a country estate to die forgotten by everyone, including her daughter;

Miao Ansu has a completely different familial background and no connection to Dou Zhao prior to her marriage with Song Han. She's also far from being the timid forest creature the series portrays her as;

Song Han manages to be somehow even more awful than his series counterpart. Not only is he not in love with Miao Ansu, he also lacks any kind of respect for her, which ultimately pushes her to align with Dou Zhao and Song Mo, and initiate his downfall. His death is not described in the novel, but it is heavily implied.

Overall, while there were a lot of things I liked about the book, I think I prefer the pacing of the series way more. Also, the series got a "will they get their happily ever after, won't they?" feeling with the poison subplot that the novel lacked until very close to the end (when Dou Zhao is almost taken hostage during the palace coup). The royals are awful as hell in both iterations, the injustice never really gets solved (in my opinion, the Emperor was also very much to blame for Jiang Meisun's death, not only the scheming Empress), but at least the lovely main couple lives happily ever after.

Would I rather recommend the book or the series? Honestly, probably the series, but the Song Mo/Dou Zhao dynamic is lovely in the novel as well, and, if nothing else, those passages about their relationship are definitely worth reading.

[felassan]

.

[wienerlicious]

sure the economy sucks and i can't afford a house or kids but at least i was born at the perfect time to be the target demographic for twilight

[eye-of-yelough]

hmmm thinkign about. slater trying and failing to make sera happy again 😐👍

[lizard-ratt]

This idea got stuck in my head, not to be taken too seriously. If you find any typos, no you didn't <3

Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

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

Steve Harrington knew how to haggle. Raised by the most cutthroat business man in all of the state of Indiana, if not the United States as a whole, he knew the ins and outs of getting the best deal possible. He used this to his advantage a lot more than anyone knew.

The first time he brought out Steven Elias Harrington, son of Richard Jay Harrington was when he first got forced to sign NDAs to keep quiet about everything going on in Hawkins, Indiana. Despite only having shown up at the end, he still had a fat stack of papers to work through.

And he worked through the entire thing, taking his sweet precious time to read the entire thing, word for word. He signed nothing that day, letting the government employees watch as he took notes on every little detail, humming to himself, scoffing, and overall being as annoying about it as possible.

"These are terrible. Do better." He didn't say that exactly, but it was the general consensus as he gave them a verbal dressing down that would make his father proud (and his father was never proud). He made demands for money, for protections, for anything that he could think of. By the end, the government had agreed to provide him with a heaping helping of cash (enough to buy a house and help him live a comfortable life for the next twenty-or-so odd years), government provided medical insurance (complete coverage for the rest of his life), and a full ride scholarship for any college he wanted to go to.

Suffice to say he had rung that towel dry of anything he could ask of it. He knew that those government employees wished nothing but the worst for him, but he was satisfied with what he got, and he happily signed the fifth NDA they provided him with, flourishing his signature with relish.

Then, he became even more wrapped up in the whole thing when Dustin Henderson decided to raise a baby Demogorgon in his basement. A lot happened in those forty-eight hours, but the main one was that he got attached to the little shits, so he told them in no uncertain terms that they were not to sign anything before he looked the paperwork over.

They scoffed, rolled their eyes, but ultimately agreed. It was a very amusing few days, to say the least. The government agents (the same ones as last time) showed up with their giant stacks of paper, and came face to face with Steven Elias Harrington, and he could just see them die a little bit inside. He could practically hear what remained of their souls wither to dust.

And again, he forced them to sit as he read through every NDA, taking notes, scoffing, humming, and overall being a nuisance to them and their time. Then, he got the kids' attentions (as their eyes started to glaze over after minute thirty) and began his process.

The looks of pure awe, too, would be treasured for a very long time as he got their college tuitions paid for, government-provided medical insurance for the rest of their lives, and of course a big fat pile of cash ready for when they would turn seventeen years old. Each of them had enough money lined up for them that they wouldn't have to worry about anything until maybe their late fifties to early sixties if they were bad with their money.

And of course, he got himself another big pile of cash and access to the best lawyers in the United States if he would ever have need of it.

After that, he shouldn't have been surprised when everyone came to him for help post-Battle of Starcourt (dubbed by Dustin, of course). This time, he took two solid weeks pushing and pulling Uncle Sam in this direction and that to make sure everyone got what they needed. (Another fat stack of cash for everyone, legal protection for whatever they'd need it for, and a cover story that made everyone look the best that they possibly could. He also got college payment for Robin, since she wasn't there the first time, as well as the same medical insurance he got everyone else). Those government employees looked at Steve like he was the devil himself.

"You kinda are," Robin told him one day, after Steve recounted the specifics. "I mean, you are bleeding the government dry."

He gave her a grin. "Absolutely, I am."

Then, he and his merry band of misfits saved the world, stopping the Upside Down for good. The same government goons showed up, and instead of doing what they tried to do the previous time, they just came to Steve with all of the NDAs, and asked in the most sarcastically professional voice imaginable, "Are these up to your standers, Mr. Harrington?"

He gave his charming, King Steve smile and told them that he'd read it over. In the hospital room that held Max and Eddie, Steve pulled up a table and allowed everyone to watch as he flipped page after page, noting down the loophole phrases and weak protections, and every single trap meant to put them into a worse-off position and he threw it in the government's faces.

In return, he forced everything his heart could imagine out of them.

Another giant hunk of change for each of them.

Eddie Munson free of all charges, effective immediately

Government-provided medical insurance for Eddie Munson for the rest of his long, long life

A cover story so beautiful, so concrete that it got even the most closed minded to look at Steve's People and call them heroes.

A house for Eddie and his Uncle Wayne

"I hope I never see your face ever again," the man told Steve, forgoing all niceties at that point. "You're going to burn in hell."

"I'll save you both a seat," he told him with his sweetest, most charming smile.

The government agents left, and in their wake, Eddie Munson looked at him like he hung the sun, moon, and stars in the sky.

"Wow," was all the metalhead was able to get out for a while. "Just wow."

Robin glanced between Steve and Eddie, leaned into his side and quietly sang, "The lovers, the dreamers, and me."

Now on AO3

[justaz]

country bumpkin merlin not knowing anything about city life and accidentally courting arthur without knowing

merlin, watching gwen give lancelot her favor: why do you do that

gwen, heart eyes at lance and not paying that much attention to the conversation: so he knows i’m rooting for him

merlin, with an Idea: ah.

gwaine, lover of chaos, pisser offer of nobles and royals alike, ultimate wingman: merlin…you have such lonely lips. shall i introduce them to mine?

merlin, unaware of the game gwaine is playing: so you can steal my breath away? i think not, scoundrel

arthur, crushing his goblet in his hand:

merlin: arthur’s been in a bad mood recently :( i should cheer him up

merlin, remembering when arthur was put out when merlin brought morgana flowers and not him: i know just the thing

merlin, bringing a bouquet of carnations, roses, and tulips and setting them on arthur’s table while he’s eating breakfast: good morning, sire

arthur, trained on flower language in hopes that one day when he was to take a queen he could woo her easily, trying not to audibly choke on his sausage as he reads merlin’s declaration of love sitting in front of him:

arthur, who recently found out about merlin’s magic and was trying to find a way to bring it up, catching him in the act and watching merlin panic to explain himself:

merlin, Freaking: and i swear to you arthur, i have only ever used it for you. my magic is yours. my life is yours. i am yours. i would never do anything to harm you. i have protected you for years and will continue to do so at your side if you’ll have me

arthur, already believing them to be courting, desperately trying to figure out if that was a proposal for marriage or not but tired of being confused and deciding fuck it: here.

merlin, taking it: i…uh…huh?

arthur, watching merlin with hawk eyes and trying to figure out what he’s thinking and feeling: it’s my mothers sigil

merlin, confused as FUCK but is focusing on the fact that arthur is handing him something of his mother rather than a death sentence: my…my lord?

arthur, realizing how scared merlin’s must be about him finding out about his magic and trying to comfort him while also proposing, killing two birds with one stone: i will always keep you at my side, merlin, so long as we both shall live. if you’ll allow me.

merlin, almost collapsing with relief and tearing up, smiling at arthur as if he had parted the storm clouds to allow sun to shine down on them in that moment: of course…of course, arthur. always and forever.

merlin, watching the castle staff rush this way and that: wow. this banquet must be incredibly important

sir leon the long suffering, day one ride or die, one of the original merthur shippers: banquet? merlin, this is for your wedding

merlin, overworked and exhausted: my WHAT? to WHO??

leon, regretting everything he’s ever done in his life that led him to this moment: to…arthur?

merlin, over joyed but also absolutely befuddled: i’m getting married to ARTHUR?????

leon: you two have been courting for the past year or so, have you not?

merlin: i’ve been COURTING ARTHUR?????? FOR A YEAR?????????

[citysuk]

a baby?! | logan howlett

pairing: xmen!logan howlett x pregnant!reader

summary: some headcanons of logan with a pregnant partner.

notes: logan is so husband (not actually married) material 😭😭😭 i needed to write this for my man.

warnings: pregnancy kajsksa (it scares me to death), so much fluffy fluff. no proofread. no use of y/n but no oc neither.

Logan's protective nature would go into overdrive when you are pregnant. He'd be extra vigilant, watching your every move and refusing to let you out of his sight. "You ain't goin' nowhere, darlin'," he'd growl.

Logan would be constantly fussing over you, making sure you're eating right and taking care of yourself. He'd become a regular at the grocery store, stocking up on the necessary supplies for your pregnancy. "Can't have my baby going hungry," he'd say, tossing another loaf of bread into the cart.

Logan would be a pro at soothing you through the uncomfortable parts of pregnancy. He'd rub your back when you had cramps, hold your hair when you were sick, and provide as much comfort as he could. "It's gonna be okay," he'd murmur. "Just a few more months."

Logan would be eager to feel the baby kick and move inside your belly. He would place his hand on your stomach, feeling every little movement, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hey there, little one," he'd whisper.

Logan would take you for late night walks in the gardens, his arm protectively around your waist, your steps slow and measured. He'd breathe in the night air, a rare peacefulness settling over him. "Can't wait to meet our kid," he'd say quietly, squeezing your hand.

Logan might be a bit nervous about being a father, but he would never let it show. He'd put on a brave front, masking his fears with his usual gruff exterior, but would secretly be reading every parenting book he can find.

As the due date got closer, Logan would become increasingly anxious. He'd be extra cautious, carrying you up and down the stairs and insisting that you rest as much as possible. "Can't have anything happen to you or the baby," he'd say, his eyes filled with worry.

Despite his tough exterior, Logan would be secretly excited about decorating the nursery. He'd take you to every baby shop in town, helping you pick out the perfect crib and the perfect color for the walls (he's the one putting everything together).

When the baby is finally born, Logan would be there, holding your hand, coaching you through the delivery. He'd whisper words of encouragement, trying to hide the tears that threatened to fall. "You're doing great, darlin'."

As soon as he lays eyes on his child, Logan's heart would instantly fill with love. He'd be torn between staring at the baby and checking on you, a range of emotions playing on his face.

Logan would be the ultimate doting father. He'd change diapers, give baths, and rock the baby to sleep. He'd sing lullabies and tell bedtime stories, his voice gruff but his words soft.

Logan would have a love/hate relationship with the baby's first word. When they said "Dada" for the first time, he'd puff up with pride, but then be secretly disappointed that it wasn't "Mama."

He would have a collection of silly nicknames for the baby, ranging from "Cub" to "Little One". He'd sometimes slip into Wolven mode and playfully growl at the baby, making them giggle.

Logan would be incredibly overprotective of the baby. Anytime someone tried to hold them, he'd hesitate and watch hawkishly. He wouldn't let anyone but his partner and the X-Men near the child, always on high alert for any potential threat. "Ain't nobody touchin' my kid, bub," he'd growl, eyes narrowed.

Logan would be the one to handle the late-night feedings and soothe the baby back to sleep. "Can't let your mama get too exhausted," he'd mutter as he rocked the baby in his arms.

Logan would be careful when the baby started walking and crawling, especially around the danger-prone X- Mansion. He'd constantly be on edge every time the baby would try to grab something sharp or crawl towards a dangerous area. "Watch yourself there, squirt," he'd say, scooping them up before they could get into trouble.

Logan would also be a very hands-on father. He'd want to teach the child everything he knows, from fighting to the wilderness. He'd take them camping and teach them how to survive in the wild. "Gotta be tough like your old man," he'd say.

Even though Logan would claim he wasn't the type to get attached to kids (LIAR), he'd secretly have a soft spot for the one you had created together.

[serpentandlily]

We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader

We Should Stick Together - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel deals with the aftermath of losing his mate. (Part I)

Warnings: angst, death, self-harm

A/n: An epilogue of sorts to Birds of a Feather - Read HERE. Thanks for all your love!! 

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

It was dead silent in the Temple. Many fae had come today to pay their respect and to honor the female that died during the war with Koschei—the female that had bravely lured the Death God to his demise and had ultimately met her own in the end.

Azriel had watched the service from the shadows, consumed by his shame and grief. Grief over losing his mate, his best friend, and the chance at a long life with her. Shame from not being able to protect her, from not realizing the mating bond between the two of them until it was far too late and for those last few words he had spoken to her that had only pushed her further into a suicide mission. 

You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.

The words haunted him. 

She haunted him. 

Azriel had always been good at ruining his own life. But saying those words was single handedly the worst mistake he had ever made. He hadn't meant them. Of course he hadn't meant them. He loved Y/n. He had since the day he had met her. She was his closest friend—someone he had felt comfortable with. But he had been so blind...blinded by Mor and her vivacious personality...blinded by Elain and the sunshine she had brought to the Night Court. 

All along his mate had been right by his side. The one person he had been searching for all his years of living had been right in front of him and he hadn't even noticed. 

Azriel walked down the long aisle towards the casket that was displayed on the dais. His footsteps echoed in the now silent chamber—not even his own heart beat could be heard. No, his heart had stopped beating the second hers had. 

He fiddled with the flower in his hand, swallowing the tears and sadness that threatened to consume him. He owed her this. He wasn't going to run and hide himself in the shadows as he'd been doing the past week. He needed to be here today. 

Azriel finally stopped in front of the casket and choked on his own bile as the sweet, comforting scent of his mate reached his nose. This felt all too much like a nightmare—one he was stuck in with no way out. Cursed to repeat this day from beginning to end for the rest of his existence. 

She would never stop haunting him.

And he didn't want her to. 

If the ghost of her was the only thing left of his mate in this world, he would cling to it for the rest of his days. 

Azriel placed the spirit lily on top of the casket, the glowing silver petals matched the marble stone. He had searched day and night to find this flower. It was your spirit lily. The one that had bloomed when you died. 

"I'm so sorry," he cried, the tears finally falling. "I'm so sorry." 

He fell to his knees before the casket, one scarred hand sliding along the cold marble as he continued to repeat those words over and over and over again. 

"I am so sorry."

• ───────────────── •

If you go, I'm going too, 

'Cause it was always you, alright

And if I'm turning blue, please don't save me

Nothing left to lose without my baby

• ───────────────── •

Azriel's ears were ringing as he sat at the kitchen table in the cottage that Elain and he had purchased a few weeks before their wedding. It was the first time he had stepped inside since the war with Koschei. It was the first time he'd even been in the Night Court since the loss of his mate and best friend. 

"I understand that you need time to process this, Azriel, I really do," Elain pleaded with him. "But we made vows to each other the day we married. Vows that were supposed to transcend any mating bond." 

Azriel's shadows wailed from the corners of the room. They had started searching for Y/n the day she died and hadn't stopped their cries of panic since then.

It had been a month already.

A whole, entire month had passed by without you. 

And here he was—dark circles lining his eyes, stubble on his hollowed jaw and a song he'd never hear again playing on repeat in his mind. His mating song. His soul's song. His soul that was desperately crying out for its other half. 

"I can't do this, Elain," he spoke, voice hoarse from disuse. "I'm sorry." 

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Elain questioned, crossing her arms and leaning on the kitchen counter. "Azriel, I rejected my own mate for you. I...I thought we were in this together. We talked about the day you might find your own and we agreed that you'd reject it too." 

"I know," Azriel whispered, his forlorn eyes stuck on the cracks on the floor. "But I didn't know what I was giving up the day we made those vows, Elain. I'm sorry. I truly am. But this...this is different. Lucien was a stranger to you. I thought if I ever met my mate, she'd be a stranger to me as well. But Y/n was my best friend. I've loved her for centuries."

"All that time together and yet, you still never went after her," Elain argued. 

Those words landed a heavy blow in his gut. Elain was right. He had known his mate for years and years and never once did he think of her as anything more than a friend. But that wasn't because of her. No, he had done that to himself. 

He had found a companion with Y/n. She saw him in ways no one else did. He'd be lying if he said that hadn't scared him. For someone to see through him—through all the good and to the rotting, decaying bad that existed in him. He was a monster hiding in plain sight and she had seen that. She had seen all of that and loved him anyway. 

And he had ran from it—from her. It was his own self-hatred that caused him to never see Y/n that way. She reminded him of everything that he was because she was all the same. She was the missing piece to his broken soul. But she had been beautiful in her darkness, hauntingly exquisite in her shadows. And he had been a brutish beast who thought that someone could vanquish the darkness that surrounded him.

What he hadn't realized was that he was never looking for a light to cast the shadows away. Not really. He had been fighting a storm whose tides had only been trying to bring him home to her. To his mate. His soul and heart and mind.  

And now she was gone and she had taken all of his love with her. 

Azriel stood from his seat, barely present in this reality. "I'm sorry, Elain. No words will change my mind nor my heart. I belonged to Y/n. It is only my fault that I never saw that." 

And it was his fault. 

All of it was his fault.  

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

It might not be long, but baby, I

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

"Papa, who is that?"

Nyx's innocent voice caught Rhysand's attention. He followed Nyx's gaze to the corner of the room where Azriel stood, wreathed in his shadows. It had been years since any of them had laid eyes on the elusive shadowsinger. Years since he had been so consumed with his grief that he had disappeared from this court, from Prythian entirely. 

But there was one day he always returned.

The anniversary of Y/n's death. 

Cassian had ambushed him before he made it to her gravesite and all but dragged him to this family dinner. It broke Rhysand's heart that his son didn't recognize one of his uncles.

"That's Azriel," Rhysand answered, clearing his throat. "He's one of your uncles. He used to be around a lot when you were just a baby." 

"Oh," Nyx said, tilting his head as he looked at the shadowsinger. "He seems...sad. Why is he so sad, Papa?" 

Rhysand's heart snapped in his chest. The loss of Y/n had been felt by all of them, of course. But for Azriel...it had destroyed him. None of them had known about the mating bond between the two of them. They had been caught off guard just as much as Azriel had been. Rhys had felt an inkling that she might've been in love with him due to her slowly distancing herself once he and Elain had gone public with their relationship.

He had only thought she needed space and time. He hadn't realized that she had been slowly wilting away. And no one had done a single thing to help her. They had all failed her. 

Sometimes he felt a fire-burning rage towards his brother. He had tried to steer him away from Elain that Solstice night but Azriel hadn't listened to him. Perhaps if he had, Y/n might still be here. Perhaps the mating bond would've finally snapped in place for Azriel. But instead he had stubbornly doubled-down on his feelings for Elain. 

"He lost someone he loved," Rhys choked out. "We all did. Do you remember the stories about Y/n?" 

Nyx clapped his tiny hands together with a smile. Gwyn had made sure that Y/n's name had been honored and recorded in the new books about the war with Koschei. A story that was being passed down through the years. A story Nyx had read time and time again because it was his favorite. 

"She was the warrior who faced a Death God all on her own!" Nyx exclaimed. "She led him straight to the trap where he was ambushed!"

Rhysand smiled, patting his son on the head. It had been too hard to speak her name after her death but slowly, they had all started talking about her more and more. Perhaps it was finally time to tell his son the whole story. Rhys glanced at Azriel again, who was a shell of his former self. Perhaps not the whole story.

"Well, before all of that," Rhys started, "Y/n was our friend..."

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

Azriel was kneeling on the grass, his hands grasping the beautiful stone marker of your gravesite as his eyes combed over the engraving: 

Here lies Y/n

Beloved Daughter, Sister and Friend

The stars will shine brighter with you among them 

Rest in Peace

"I have tried to go on for your sake," Azriel murmured. "Because I know that is what you would've wanted. But I can't...I can't do this without you. I relive every day I've shared with you and it is still not enough to make me miss you any less. I am sorry that it took your death to make me realize just how much you meant to me." 

Azriel had gone through it all in his head time and time again. Always reliving moments where he could've seen what was right in front of him all along yet didn't. Your last words to him constantly looped in his mind. 

"I'll find...you...again. Maybe...maybe I'll be...good enough...then."

Those words could not be more untrue. It was always him who had never been good enough for you. Not you. Never you. You had always been as beautiful as the moon reflected on the sea, alluring and mysterious but peaceful. So peaceful. Despite the darkness the two of you shared, you'd always been so soft and kind to those around you...those who had never felt the kind of pain you'd gone through. 

You lured people in because of your grace. You gave people a safe place to exist in. Your shadows had felt like a warm blanket on a chilly night. Your smile had rivaled the moonlight. 

You had always been far more special than you knew. 

Your mistake had been thinking you could out love his hatred for himself. 

But the mating bond had opened his eyes. Although he had only gotten a few seconds with his mate, its song had told him everything he needed to know. He no longer hated his shadows or the anger he felt inside. He no longer hated himself. How could he? How could he hate himself when part of him was you? 

And he could never hate you. 

Gods, he could never be without you. Your souls were intertwined. 

But living in this world without you was something he could not bear. He was consumed by your memory. He looked for you in everything. In the sea, in the breeze, in the faces of random people, down alleyways and behind every door. But you were not here. You were not here and so he decided he could not be here, either. 

"You said you'd find me again," Azriel whispered. "You said you'd find me again but that is not enough. I cannot sit here and wait for you. I will crawl through Hell and everything that is ready for me when my life ends to find you. This life means nothing to me without you in it. You were my heart, Y/n. I love you. I've always loved you. And I am ready to prove that in our next life."

Azriel slid Truth-teller from its sheath and turned it over in his hand, pointing the blade directly as his own heart. He closed his eyes, tuned out all noise except that of the leaves gently rustling in the breeze. 

"I love you, Y/n," he murmured, gripping the blade tighter. "And I can't wait to see you again." 

His dagger pierced through skin and bone until it reached his heart. 

Until all life was spilled from inside of him. 

Until his final breath carried with the wind. 

Until he could finally see his love again.

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something. 

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other. 

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake. 

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely. 

but not for him. 

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it. 

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts. 

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough. 

you did this to yourself. 

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl. 

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late. 

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him. 

‘you’re too sweet,’ 

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl. 

“she’s here.” 

what? 

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you. 

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story. 

you looked…

happy. 

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you. 

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend. 

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon. 

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways. 

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up. 

rebecca stared at you expectedly. 

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?” 

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.” 

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go. 

as much as you wanted  to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing. 

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile. 

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed. 

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael. 

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?” 

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend. 

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you. 

did you expect him to? 

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe. 

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out. 

“uh oh.” 

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle. 

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would. 

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty. 

but he didn’t stop to look at you. 

you didn’t either. 

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. 

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open. 

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret. 

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t. 

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking. 

“nothing.” 

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage. 

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did. 

but you couldn’t. 

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you. 

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room. 

lando

you hesitated. 

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath. 

“what?” 

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue. 

“neither did i.” 

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.” 

“can i see you?” 

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

you could practically feel him wince through the phone. 

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing. 

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?” 

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night. 

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts. 

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take. 

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver. 

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time. 

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him. 

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you. 

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep. 

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt. 

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.” 

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances. 

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same. 

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.” 

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he? 

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth. 

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him. 

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder. 

he wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.” 

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“you have to.” 

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem. 

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated. 

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs. 

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one. 

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you. 

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own. 

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too. 

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles. 

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing. 

it couldn’t be for nothing. 

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview. 

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.” 

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?” 

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you. 

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael. 

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her. 

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck. 

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble. 

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him. 

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you? 

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get. 

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life. 

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it. 

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away. 

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.” 

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness. 

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot. 

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare. 

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back. 

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you. 

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns. 

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers? 

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this. 

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place. 

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough. 

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it. 

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable. 

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando. 

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated. 

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes. 

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs. 

after another minute of this, you were fed up. 

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking. 

you deserved an oscar. 

“didn’t think i was that good.” 

an egot, maybe. 

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you. 

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going. 

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue. 

he thought you came. 

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing. 

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure. 

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there. 

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face. 

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.” 

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack. 

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long. 

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone. 

no messages from lando. 

did you expect any?

maybe. 

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking. 

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer. 

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.” 

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen. 

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. 

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you. 

especially an ‘i miss you.’ 

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you. 

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you. 

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears. 

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls. 

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.” 

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you. 

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul. 

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength. 

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all. 

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words. 

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate? 

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear. 

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did. 

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified. 

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water. 

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear. 

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you. 

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers. 

he slipped through your fingers. 

you shut the door. 

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him. 

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love? 

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit. 

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall. 

it rang twice before he heard the line connect. 

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?” 

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning. 

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him. 

 but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?” 

“you called me.” 

shit. 

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it. 

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…” 

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks. 

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it? 

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing. 

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?” 

there was a pause. 

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.” 

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?” 

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it. 

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.” 

you smiled. he could feel it. 

“okay. bye, then.” 

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming. 

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face. 

just a bright smile. 

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug. 

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow. 

“so…!?” 

you narrowed your eyes. 

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.” 

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways. 

“awful.” 

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.” 

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything. 

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?” 

him. the inevitable. 

you swallowed. 

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day. 

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare. 

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

lando did too. 

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker. 

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away. 

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face. 

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers. 

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless. 

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart. 

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had. 

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers. 

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood. 

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten. 

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.” 

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here. 

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string. 

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife. 

but he fears he lost you. 

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display. 

did you come? 

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t. 

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most. 

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory. 

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch. 

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat. 

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie. 

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached. 

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers. 

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did. 

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco. 

another one of his girls. 

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl? 

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave. 

neither did you. 

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his. 

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another. 

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play. 

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand. 

“dance with me?” 

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness. 

but the thought left just as quickly as it came. 

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted. 

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face. 

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck. 

you were just one of his girls. 

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest. 

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress. 

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room. 

your lips puckered. 

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down. 

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room. 

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand. 

raphael took the bait. 

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now. 

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan. 

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth? 

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree. 

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy. 

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would. 

this was war, wasn’t it? 

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving. 

you much preferred the latter. 

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you. 

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one. 

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again. 

“i’m serious. i want–” 

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms. 

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?” 

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another. 

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest. 

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant. 

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand. 

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.” 

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?” 

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin. 

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.” 

you froze. 

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?” 

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh. 

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.” 

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill. 

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.” 

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics. 

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours. 

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks. 

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair. 

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–” 

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it? 

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him. 

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice. 

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you. 

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk. 

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.” 

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much. 

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted. 

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality. 

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle. 

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly. 

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection. 

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise. 

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat. 

“what was that?” 

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give. 

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.” 

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven. 

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would. 

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night. 

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared. 

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed. 

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might. 

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers. 

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!” 

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure. 

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else. 

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion. 

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more. 

“you’re the only girl.” 

you turned fully this time to face him. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words. 

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly. 

“what do you want, then?” 

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed. 

“i need you.” 

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you. 

his face upturned into a smile. 

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline. 

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.” 

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you. 

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him. 

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure. 

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit. 

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up. 

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough. 

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time. 

your brows upturned. “i love you too.” 

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?” 

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded. 

he was happy enough with that answer. 

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you. 

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.” 

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[lovebugism]

Okay soooooooo

How bout something like King Steve picking on shy!reader, then later finding out she has a shitty home life plz

ty for requesting!! this can be read as a prequel to this fic — steve comforts you when he accidentally makes you flinch (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of abuse, 1.8k)

Sitting alone at the Hellfire table, you feel a little like fishbait. 

Your spot in the very back of the cafeteria is normally full and loud — with Dustin’s bickering, and Eddie’s laughing, and Gareth’s stupid jokes — but they’re not here now. They’re off getting their trays while you sit in wait for them (and the cold fries you’ll ultimately steal from Eddie’s plate). It leaves you perfect prey for circling sharks.

You hear laughter from behind you, over the sounds of the bustling lunch room. You’re certain they’re laughing at you — ‘cause you always think someone’s laughing at you — but you try hard to ignore it. You disregard the subtle pang of anxiety in your chest and stick your nose in your book, eyes flitting across the words without reading any of them.

Someone flumps down at your side then, where Mike usually sits. The overwhelming scent of spiced cologne stings your nostrils. With watering eyes, you look beside you. At Tommy fucking Hagan.

“Hey, Wallflower,” he greets like it’s normal — like he hasn’t spent the past four years pretending you don’t exist. You think he only calls you Wallflower now because his friends have been doing it for so long they don’t remember your real name.

The boy props his elbow on the table and puts his chin in his fist, trying hard to hide his boyish beam and accompanying laughter. He fails.

You cower at his presence, all but shrinking into yourself. “…Hi?” you reply in a tiny voice.

“How’s it hangin’?”

“...Fine?”

“That’s great!” he answers instantly, like he hadn’t heard you at all. “You see, my friend Steve, over there— you know him, right?”

You don’t bother to look where he’s pointing. Of course, you know Steve The Hair Harrington. You don’t think there’s a single person in Hawkins who doesn’t.

You nod in response.

Tommy’s smile widens. “Well, he’s got this massive crush on you,” he confesses, choking back a laugh halfway through. “I mean, he talks about you all the time.”

You know he’s lying. And not just because he’s grinning so hard that his eyes are crinkled and his freckled cheeks are turning pink. You’re almost certain Steve Harrington doesn’t even know who you are. He never had a reason to. Why would the King of Hawkins High ever stoop so low to know someone like you?

You glance at him over your shoulder, a couple tables down from you. He’s almost magnetically pretty. You couldn’t ignore him if you tried — with his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his pretty smile. His golden cheeks flush as all his friends start poking fun at him. 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs a laugh you can tell is forced from here. He doesn’t think any of this is funny. You can see it on his face. But he isn’t trying to stop it all from happening. You’re just collateral damage, really.

You turn back to Tommy with a disbelieving look in your eye.

He continues to ramble despite it. “He was just a little nervous coming up to you, that’s all. So I thought I’d do him a favor and slip you his number. You know, as his wingman and all.” He tosses a folded-up index card onto the pages of your opened book. “You should call him tonight— It’ll make his day, I swear.”

He pats you a little too hard on the back before he goes. His laugh echoes over all the rest when he sits back down at his table. You watch them over your shoulder as they fall over themselves to crack jokes about you. 

Steve’s the only one not smiling. “Not cool, Tommy,” he mouths.

—————

Locker 148. The one right across from yours. Property of Steve The Hair Harrington. 

You shove the thick card with his number written on it between the slits in the metal. You’d carried it around all day, utterly unsure of what to do with it. You decided ultimately to return it, figuring he might feel a little better if a total stranger didn’t have his phone number.

You struggle to slide it through the thin gap, though. The paper gets caught halfway through, and you try to yank it back out again. The old locker moves with you, like it’s not completely shut but still somehow latched. 

You’re so in your own head you don’t hear the gymnasium door down the hall squeal open and shut again. Steve pants heavily and tries to recover from a ruthless basketball practice. He hunts for a water fountain and finds you instead.

“What are you doing?” he calls as he nears you, not malicious or unkind but genuinely curious.

Your heart lurches into your throat as you all but jump out of your skin.

Steve laughs, a pretty sound in the silent hallway. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You didn’t,” you assure with an averted gaze, though your frightened demeanor says otherwise. “I was just— I was trying to give you this.”

You hold the paper out towards him. He takes it with hesitant hands. “What is it?”

“Your number. Tommy gave it to me earlier, and I know it was just a stupid joke, so I… I thought you’d feel more comfortable if I gave it back to you.”

Something in Steve’s chest aches. He doesn’t understand why you would care about what might make him comfortable. It’s not like he ever gave you the time of day — or ever tried to stop his friends from being total assholes. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the last person who should give a shit about him.

“Oh. Right— Yeah… Thanks,” he stammers and shoves the thing into his pocket. “And I’m— I’m sorry about Tommy and everything. He can be a real douchebag sometimes. I didn’t… I didn’t tell him to bother you or anything—”

“I know,” you assure in a mousy voice. “Tommy gave me your number hoping I’d be dumb enough to call while your friends were over so you could all… laugh at me? I guess. He could’ve been a little more original, honestly.”

Steve cracks a smile. He almost laughs, but he can’t tell if you’re joking or not.

“I’ll talk to him later. Tell him to leave you alone—” He rambles and walks closer to you. You watch him with tentative eyes as he approaches. “—He’s a total dumbass sometimes, but he usually means well. Most of the time, anyway—”

Steve raises his hand suddenly. And, because you’re frightened by everything little thing, you flinch and stumble over yourself in the process. The lockers catch your fall, and you hit the back of your head. Hard.

“Shit— Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” you squeak, holding the crown of your hair and squinting as your skull pounds.

Steve rushes to your side, then idles just ahead of you because he doesn’t know if you want him touching you. His brows pinch, chiseled features swimming with concern. His cinnamon eyes glitter with it, too. “I wasn’t trying to scare you—”

“It’s okay.”

“—My locker was just jammed. I was going to shut it.”

The metal door is open now, from where it wasn’t shut all the way and where you just smacked your head on it.

“I just wasn’t expecting it,” you assure in a tight voice, trying hard to ignore the sharp throbbing. “It’s fine. I’m fine—”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’ll go away—”

“Let me get you an icepack.”

“—I’ll be fine once I get home.”

Steve, feeling purely at fault and aching at how effortlessly you shrug him off, decides to approach you fully. He curls a warm hand around the outside of your elbow. A touch surprisingly gentle. “No. C’mon. Let me help.”

You don’t feel much like you’re in any position to fight him about it. Not with the world still swaying under your feet. 

Steve guides you the short distance to the empty cafeteria. Slow and kind and dreadfully patient. He sits you down, makes sure you’re still okay, and then rushes to fix you a makeshift icepack — a ziplock bag filled to the brim with chipped ice.

He sits at the chair beside yours, slightly askew so his knees bump your thighs. He holds the pack to the crown of your head and gazes at you attentively. You’re not looking back at him to see it.

“Does it still hurt?”

You shrug, eyes flitted to the wringing hands in your lap. “It’s fine. It just feels a little like I have a migraine.”

Steve winces. “I’m sorry.”

Your doe eyes peek at him from beneath your lashes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I scared you.”

“Everything scares me.”

It’s a dumb joke. You mean it, but you still expect him to laugh about it. He doesn’t even crack a smile, though. He just keeps looking at you with that puppy-like twist to his features. The worry is evident in his face. 

“Do you wanna, like, talk about it or something?”

“About what?”

“Why you flinched.”

You freeze, breath hitching in your throat. No one’s ever noticed your incessant panic — outside of making jokes about it anyway. No one’s cared enough to ask about it, either. Steve Harrington is the last person you expected any kind of concern from.

You shake your head after a few long moments. “No.”

“You could,” Steve assures, suddenly shy. You didn’t know he could be anything other than totally full of himself. “You know, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t— I wouldn’t tell anyone—”

You scoff a disbelieving laugh.

Steve’s features swirl with hurt. You hate that it makes your chest ache. You hate most that he hasn’t stopped being soft with you. The hand holding the pack to your head hasn’t yet wavered, even though you know his arm must be tired now.

“I wouldn’t. ‘Cause I— I know what it’s like to… to have a bad home life or whatever,” he confesses, stammering hopelessly. He forces a laugh at himself. “Probably more than most people do, honestly.”

His admission takes you by surprise. It comforts you in a way you didn’t think someone like him could. 

Even still, you shake your head. “I— I can’t—” you murmur, clearing your throat when the words get stuck there. “I can’t talk about it…”

Steve nods, firm and reassuring. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, I was just… I was just saying, you know? I get it.”

You swallow through a tight throat, nodding wordlessly in response.

“Plus, you know, you have my number and everything… If you ever wanted to talk…”

You flash him a timid look and crack a quiet smile. “I gave it back to you, remember?”

“I’ll write it down for you again,” he promises with a shrug and a lopsided grin. It’s easier to ignore his aching arm and the ice stinging his palm when he’s looking at you. “For real this time.”

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 8: The Trapeze Artist's Fall

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 (You're here) - Pt 9 - Pt 10

It was his second week of school for him. In no way was he excited. Gotham was a fresh start for the young boy, private school was meant to be a fun experience - many would kill to be able to get premium education - but he finds he misses the countryside hills that he'd watch pass by as his mamă taught him how to spell and read. He misses his tată teaching him math and cool sciencey things.

He misses his family.

The school wasn't the problem, though he found he was falling behind in learning due to his homeschooled life beforehand. The problem was his classmates, the ridicule he'd get for simple slip-ups. It wasn't his fault English is his second language, it isn't his fault he slips-up.

Last Friday one boy in the class, Mac Doust, had put gum in his hair. Dick ended up crying in the bathroom until Alfred came to pick him up - not Bruce, no, Bruce was as unavailable as Dick's dead parents honestly.

Gripping the straps of his backpack Dick mutters under his breath, trying to assure himself he'd be okay. The whole weekend he had practiced hiding his accent so kids would think he was normal.

Upon walking into the school he held his head high and didn't mess around, he headed straight to class.

...

That's strange, why was the door only opened partly? Ms Xavier keeps the door wide open, always greeting Dick with a wide smile and some Romanian she had put in the effort of learning for him.

Dick opens the door hesitantly, peeking inside.

He only gets to see Mac's stupid grin before water is dumped on him, the metal bucket clanging on his head harshly.

He doesn't know what to do, he stands there, the bucket on his head as the sounds of giggles and cackles fill his ears. Warm tears contrast with the cold water soaking his face.

Dick went home early that day. The incident struck a chord in him. If he wanted to stop the bullying he had to become better than them, put in the work and effort.

He will be popular, he will be better.

He will never do that cruel prank to anyone. Never

Looking down at his phone as he walks he feels nothing but a cringing sort of pain. He stooped to a level he never thought he'd get to. It was disgusting really.

Dick feels like he's no better than Mac. That he's no hero. The video plays on loop as the man takes in the pained look on your face, he can't bring himself to look at the messages in the group chat.

They're most likely supporting it, congratulating him for doing what they all wished to do.

Hell, if he was in their place he'd probably be celebrating it too. But to be there, to be the reason you reacted that way, is sickening for the young male.

Even now all he can think about is himself, how he feels. God, how self-centered could he be? It's not like he was the victim in this.. But still, surely he can't be the true bad guy in this, right?

Dick had decided against getting driven home, he felt that if he walked to the manor in the rain it'd be enough to be even with you - look, we both ended up soaked! Everything's better now!

He chuckles under his breath at his thoughts - what would Aranea even think of him?

She'd probably be angry at him for his actions but comfort him, telling him the things he needed to hear. That it wasn't his fault, that Y/N was a bad person who deserved it.

Whatever words needed so he could sleep at night really..

Dick finally decides to exit the looping video, the image of you burnt into his mind forever.

He goes into his messages and pulls up Aranea's comm number - he had put it into his phone so they could talk off shift, something she was hesitant about but ultimately caved in.

He types out a simple message. Then another. Then another.

"Heyyyy!!! Are you busy rn??"

"It'd be cool to hang out and patrol together!!"

"Bruce doesn't have to know"

He stares at the messages, waiting for them to be marked as read. 1 minute turned into 5, then 5 turned into 10. Dick sighs and exits out of the message log, clearly Aranea is busy.

He gazes on the chat log "Y/N. 🤮"

Maybe he should message her? Say sorry and try to make it up to her.. Yeah, that's what Aranea would say to do! She was always about communication.

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm super sorry for what I did|

"I know you're probably upset, I get that. I'm|

"I know you're|

"What I did wasn't right. I'm sorry that I did that because you had a different opinion than me. I never meant to make you cry, only angry, I promise!"

Finally happy with the message he sends it off.

Only to remember the wonderful fact that your phone is fried due to the water.

Lucky him. He sighs, fed up with this bad luck streak he's been having.

Suddenly he remembers that he has money! More than you can even imagine!

He can buy a new, amazing phone to make things even. Yes, it's perfect. Surely you'll forgive him now!

He changes course and heads to the nearest electronic store, determined to make things right in his head. The purchase was swift and quick, the best phone he could find in the place.

Now, all he had to do was go to your apartment and give it to you!

Lucky him Tim leaked your address to everyone in the family as soon as he entered your apartment. So, with a high head he makes the slightly anxiety-inducing journey to you.

Knocking on the door of the apartment Dick stands straight as a board. The door opens and on the other side is a woman, she has severe eye bags and (H/C) hair. She seemed to have just gotten back from work. Her grey, lifeless eyes peer at him with suspicion before realizing who he was and smiling brightly.

"Mr Grayson! What a pleasure, is there anything you need?" She asks, Dick internally cringes, there was something about her voice that just grated against his ears.

There was just something so... Off... About her.

Still, he does what he usually does. He smiles and remains patient.

"Hello ma'am, is your daughter available? Something had happened and well.." Dick trails off, he doesn't want to get on Y/N's mother's bad side.

Her mother's eyes seem to cloud over at the mention of an incident, yet her smile remains in tact, if not strained. It's possible you told her already..

"Oh. An incident? What has she done, Mr Grayson?" Her mother asks, dark undertones coat her otherwise curious words. Dick furrows his brows slightly at the sudden change in the woman's mood. "Ah, well, it was my fault. I had played a nasty prank on her and her phone was ruined, I bought a new one to make it up to her!" He shows the brand new phone in it's box.

The woman doesn't look impressed, still, she smiles and hums. "Hm. Well that's lovely! Would you like to come inside? She isn't home currently but I'm sure she'll be home soon."

Something in Dick tells him not to go inside. Something was wrong. Yet, he reminds himself that he is a hero, if anything happens he will be prepared.

So, he heads inside, trailing behind the woman as he takes in the dungeon-like interior. "It's a... Lovely place, ma'am" Dick says, hoping to seem polite. The woman scoffs.

"M/N, my name is M/N. No need for such formalities!" The woman hurriedly states before flicking her hand dismissively "Y/N's room is the second door. You can wait there, or, if you want, you can hang around me!" She smiles sweetly, too sweetly, disgustingly sweetly. It reminds him of eating giant spoons of brown sugar.

He smiles politely, trying not to show his discomfort. "I'll just wait in her room for her..!" He hurries to Y/N's room, shutting the door once he's in. That woman gave him the creeps.

He looks around the small room, holy shit, no wonder you're always so pissy! He'd be pissy too if his room was just a bit bigger than a school storage closet!

The man knows he shouldn't snoop, he's done enough damage. But, maybe, if the guilt doesn't settle he can use information gathered here to help!

Dick makes his way to the chest and looks around, picking up an engineering bit, he isn't too into the whole mechanical side of things so there was no name he could pin it to.

Placing it back he moves to sit on the bed and wait. As he sits on the bed his eyes are drawn to a floorboard that seems to stand out from the rest. He kneels on the floor and digs his nails into the floorboard.

He starts to lift it up when..

RINGGGG

RINGGGG

RINGGGG

His phone goes off, he scrambles to answer the call, not checking who the caller was.

"Dick? Dick, okay, you're the only one that has answered!"

It was Duke, he sounds frantic. What happened..?

"Duke? What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No, no, something bad's happened! Steph, Cass and I were at a cafe and Y/N and her friends were there as well but some waitress had messed up the orders and Y/N had an allergic reaction - or something like that!" Duke rambles, his words slurring together in a rush.

Dick's eyes widen and he feels the air leave his lungs, forgetting about the floorboard and quickly leaving the room. He'll put the new phone on your bed for when you return.

He brushes past M/N and leaves the apartment. Holy shit your luck was bad, he couldn't help but think.

"Okay, stay calm, are you guys at Gotham City Private Hospital or Gotham City Public Hospital?"

"Private."

"I'll be there in half an hour, it'll be okay."

With that he hangs up and runs out of the apartment complex.

Like hell was he about to let anything bad happen to you before he could make things right!

Taglist:

@rissareader @delias-stuff @hogwarts9 @marsmabe @randomlyappearingartist @coralaura @nervousalpacalady @citrushalo @chericia @soriansick @v0idl1nq @scrumdidiliyumyum @kittykatcreatster @feral-childs-word @anon34570 @shycreatorreview @sunny-sp3lls @fluffypackofships @cynniee @yuyuzi-ling @coffeeaddictxd @starryperson @readermommy @niggrrooo @bunbunboysworld @yanrandom @fluffypackofchips @vanilliona @wizzerreblogs @cens0r3d

[hanfourz]

― scream | h.ts 𓆩⚝𓆪

first installment of the 'tis the season drabble series !

pairing・ghostface!taesan x fem!reader

genre・smut, mostly pwp (fluff towards the end), established relationship

warnings・MDNI, mask kink, unprotected sex (Do Not.), dom!taesan, profanity, fingering, big dick!taesan

word count・2.3k (!!!!!)

note・uh we don't talk abt how long this took me or the fact that this is a halloween drabble in december... it's fine (the end's kinda trash sry lmao) - 🪼

[ networks : @onedoornet ]

series m.list | main m.list

halloween was your favorite time of the year. all the spooky decor, scary movies, and candy made your eyes glow with excitement. and this year you’d get to spend it with your boyfriend. last year, you two were supposed to celebrate together but you came down with something so he’d come up with a brilliant plan of staying in and watching scary movies to your heart’s content. and as fun as that was, this year you were determined to make halloween count. 

“dongminie, hurry or we’re gonna be late!” you heard a deep sigh before he muttered out ‘okayokay’. you two had a party to get to in exactly 2 hours. a party you may or may not have convinced forced your lovely boyfriend to go to. truthfully he wasn’t all that upset about going to this party, one of his friends was hosting it so he knew he was going to have to go anyway. it was the damned costume you’d practically begged him to wear. you two were supposed to be characters from one of your favorite thrillers, a movie that taesan personally didn’t care for. you’d made him watch every single scream movie last year and told him you wanted him to be ghostface this year. he didn’t really think you were serious until he saw the mask sitting on the bed and your overly excited smile as you pulled him into your room to show it to him. he’d be lying if he said your excitement wasn’t kinda adorable and that’s what ultimately won him over. (that and the fact that he was completely head over heels for you) 

“babe!! come here, i need help!” you whipped around at the sound of taesan’s voice coming from your bedroom. when you got up and made your way over, you opened the door to the sight of him standing at the foot of your bed. he’d had the mask on most of the way but was seemingly struggling to get it to fit comfortably. you giggled under your breath and when he’d heard you, his head perked up in your direction. you stepped towards him and helped him adjust the mask over his head, stepping back once you’d both got it fully on. now with the mask settled over his head, you got to see his full costume. he opted out of the long dress in favor of black jeans and a black t-shirt, fake knife in hand. in truth, he just looked like himself with a mask on. so you’re not sure why you were getting so hot all of the sudden. you stood there and staring in stunned silence. when he tilted his head at your silence, you swore you felt your gut tense up. unbeknownst to you, taesan could absolutely tell you were turned on right now, you really weren’t that hard to read. and suddenly things clicked in his brain, the way you were so eager to get him in this costume, the glazed over look in your eyes when you were talking about seeing him in it. 

“what’s wrong, baby? how does it look?” he asked, feigning innocence but slowly stepping closer to you. your eyes widened ever so slightly, if he wasn’t intensely staring at you through the mask he wouldn’t have even noticed. but he did and it caused the tiniest of smirks to cross his face. 

“looks good, ‘minie… we should- uh we should probably get going.” you tried to answer normally but his presence, the way he loomed over you, was intoxicating. your eyes couldn’t stay focused on where to look, darting around his frame. and when he pressed closer to you, you felt your knees grow weak a little. you don’t know what was coming over you but taesan was enjoying every second of it. his large hands found your waist and yours came to press on his chest. “we’re gonna be late-” you were cut off by him sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling you down into his lap in the process. your mouth hung open in shock but taesan wasn’t even paying attention to you. instead he had turned his upper half to snatch up his phone and was seemingly texting someone. 

your brows furrowed as you stared in confusion. “what’re you doing?” you asked tilting your head to see he was texting jaehyun. 

“telling him we’re not coming.” was all he said before he turned again to place his phone on the dresser.

his hands were on you in seconds. your mouth opened to protest but you were cut off again by his hands trailing up your shirt. you let out a shaky exhale, watching as he stared intently at the skin he was exposing the more his hands went up. once your shirt was pushed up to expose your chest, you reached to yank it off. taesan chuckled at your eagerness, hands groping over your bra causing you to keen into his touch. if the mask wasn’t getting you so worked up, you would’ve taken it off so you could kiss him and he would’ve taken it off so he could wrap his lips around your tits. but this would have to do for now. 

“dongmin, please.” you whined, not even fully sure what you were pleading for. he hums, not giving you what you want and continues to trail his hands over your torso. 

he stops at the waistband of the skirt you’re wearing, teasing at the skin there before sliding them back up to your chest. his pace is agonizingly slow as he unclasps your bra, your breath catching in your throat as the cold air causes your nipples to perk up. taesan groans lowly at the sight, pinching and rolling the sensitive buds between his fingers. you whimper, grinding yourself over his thigh that’s nestled between your legs. taesan watches you for a while mesmerized by the desperation in your movements. but then he’s quickly moving you, laying you down on the mattress whilst pushing your legs apart. he slots a leg in between your thighs, hovering above you as you whine impatiently. he doesn’t say a word as he shimmies your skirt off your hips, leaving you in just your lacy panties. the constant switching from feverish impatience to slow deliberation is making your head spin as he takes the time to admire your figure below him. his hands caress your thighs, pulling one up at the knee and pressing two fingers to the wet spot forming on your panties. 

you sigh at the feeling, hands reaching towards the band of your panties before he pushes them away. you let out an indignant whine but keep your hands away for the time being, allowing him to do as he so pleases. he starts to circle your clit with his fingers, occasionally pressing harder onto the bud. he watches as you arch into his ministrations and he feels it as you grow even more wet. he pulls your panties to the side, continuing to play with your clit. he watches as you clench around nothing, breathing ragged underneath his mask. 

“dongminie, please. want more.” you moan out, hands reaching for the one pressed to your cunt. he only pushes your hands away again, a frustrated whine leaving your lips. but then he actually takes your panties off, sliding them down your legs and throwing them to wherever your skirt went. and though you’re completely bare while he’s completely clothed, you don’t feel shy. no, if anything it turns you on even more. 

without warning, he plunges two fingers into your wetness causing a gasp to fall from your lips. he watches as they disappear into your hole before he brings them out and pushes them in again, setting a fast pace. your legs threaten to close but he presses a hand to your other thigh, forcing them open as he fucks you with his fingers. something about the dominance radiating from him in this moment makes you feel so much closer to the edge than normal. you’re whimpering and moaning loudly as his thumb starts to rub over your clit. he doesn’t say a word but you can hear how heavy his breathing has gotten and it drives you crazy. 

“‘min, i’m close. oh my god, please.” your back arches off the bed as you feel your orgasm fast approaching. he decides to press another finger into you, you moaning loudly at the feeling. he drinks in the sight of you falling apart for him, pussy clenching around his fingers and moans tumbling from your lips. when you come, your entire body tenses and you’re left scrambling for something to hold on to. he slows his fingers, letting you ride out your orgasm before pulling them out. 

as he turns his hand, he watches his fingers glisten with your essence and can’t resist pushing the mask up to lick them clean. the sight has your jaw dropping and pussy clenching once again. you trail your eyes down his form to see his very visible bulge. before you can even think of doing anything, he places both hands on opposite sides of your head, looming over you again. you take the opportunity to trail your hands over his clothed chest, feeling his breath shudder before he’s pulling away to be kneeling over you. he very quickly undoes the buckle on his pants, pulling them down enough so that he can push his boxers down. his hard length stands tall against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip. you watch as he pumps his length a few times, your breathing labored as your hand starts to trail down to your aching pussy. but taesan catches the movement, grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head. you whine and try to squirm free but to no avail. he holds you there until you stop trying to fight against him, tilting his head at you when you huff in annoyance. and even though he hasn’t said anything, you know that means you’d better keep your hands there if you wanted to cum again tonight. 

he pulls away when he’s sure you’re done and reaches for your legs, pulling you towards him whilst simultaneously spreading you open. he rubs his cock over your pussy, tip bumping your clit and causing little whines to leave you. once he feels he’s teased you enough he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly. no matter how many times you two have had sex, his cock always stretched you out so deliciously. you could feel it as he pushed every inch into your fluttering walls. you heard him sigh breathily when he finally bottomed out. just like he did with his fingers, he pulled out slowly before fully plunging back inside you, watching the way your pussy swallowed him. he felt so deep as he fucked into you, his hands snaking their way up to your chest. his fingers toyed with your tits while his hips snapped into yours. your hands were fisted tight in the sheets, moans of his name and incoherent blabbering falling from your lips. you chanted his name like a mantra as you felt his cock hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. 

he repositioned so his hands were placed on opposite sides of your head again, you bringing your legs to wrap around his hips. at this angle, you could feel him even deeper and you cried out his name. your hands found purchase on his shoulders as he rocked into you. now that he was closer, you could hear the soft pants and groans he was letting out behind the mask. you could feel that familiar tightening in your stomach, thighs clenching around him. you were letting out pleas and ‘yes’s’ and ‘feels so good, don’t stop’ and taesan knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. you could tell too, his thrusts getting sloppy and his head dipping into your neck. 

“gonna cum, dongminie, fuck ‘so good.” you moaned directly into his ear and that was his undoing. he groaned as your pussy clenched around him, both your orgasms washing over you. 

he thrusted into you a few more times before practically collapsing on top of you. you let out a laugh of disbelief, pulling his head up and immediately removing his mask. his hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead, lips swollen from biting down on them, and a blissed out look in his eyes. you had a dopey smile on your face as you pushed his hair back from his forehead. he sighed before sitting up, pulling his softening cock out of you and readjusting his clothes. you whined at the loss of contact and he chuckled. 

“be back, babe, hold on.” he murmured as he got up, grabbing a damp towel and a water bottle. he came back, wiping you clean (chuckling once again when you whined at the feeling) before opening the water bottle and giving it to you. once you were done with it, you gave it back to him and gave him a pointed look. he sighed and drank some water before settling it back on your nightstand. when he came back to lay with you, you immediately pulled him down into a heated kiss. 

“can’t believe you deprived me of your lips this entire time.” you pouted as you pressed your lips to his again, him smiling into the kiss. he hummed as he pulled you over so that you were on top of him, bare chest pressed against him. he kept you there as your lips moved in tandem, your tongue swiping across his bottom lip. it felt like hours before you two pulled away from one another. 

“you’re amazing, baby.” he said softly, his hand running through your hair. you just smiled at him, leaning to kiss his nose before you got up to get clothes to put on. 

“didn’t know you had a thing for masks though.” and even though your back was turned as you bent over, you could hear the teasing smirk in his voice.