#it makes me feel so sick and heartbroken thinking about it and I don't know if we'll be able to remain in touch when it happens

[werewolfdog]

Wild that one day you can just look at a coworker who you're well connected with and realize you can really see them as your parental figure

[lost-romantique]

The Evolution of Blitzø’s Character Growth- Stolitz (Season 2.5)

Blitz starts off "When I See Him" not wanting to think about the complexities of his and Stolas' relationship, so he decides to focus on the one thing he does know: sex.

In "When I See Him" Stolas and Blitz are meant to be never on the same page, even going as far as to have Blitz only sing-talk as opposed to Stolas' Disney-esque style of singing.

He goes out of his way, excitedly looking forward to the sex they'll have afterwards. He's only thinking about the sex.

Full Moon happens and Blitz is hurt and betrayed, as he genuinely has no idea how to process the confession.

Beginning of Apology Tour Blitz attempts to win Stolas back, only for it to end horribly as he self-sabotages the fuck out of everything he has, refusing to let go of the mask he wears.

Later on...

Blitz is heartbroken to hear Stolas sing, and his admission, "I don't think you meant to hurt me because I don't think it meant a thing at all" destroys him.

He tries to make it right with Stolas (who is drunk), apologizes to him, lets go of the mask he wears, only to end up ultimately giving up and letting Stolas go in the end.

A month passes and Blitz has essentially given up on life, driving his business to the freaking ground...

One thing is for sure, he feels a lot of regret for what happened with Stolas, and has essentially given up on being with him.

A lot of shit happens to Blitz in Ghostfuckers as the trauma that he's kept buried for fifteen years is forcefully pried open with a wrench.

Only for Millie to be the one to save Blitz in the end...

Episode ends with major character development for Blitz as his mask falls off, and he promises to butt out of the M&M relationship, and as he subtly admits and acknowledges his feelings for Stolas....

What's beautiful about the Stolitz Duet in Mastermind is that it perfectly shows Blitzø’s character growth...

How Blitz went from initially thinking only about sex in regards to his relationship with Stolas....

How Blitz was never once was on the same page with Stolas in their first duet together...

Only to now be able to perfectly harmonize with Stolas in regards to their deep feelings for one another...

Stolas admitting that he sees Blitz as his shining light that taught him to be his own person...

To Blitz admitting that he sees Stolas as the key to his heart that he's kept locked up for years...

For them to finally sing in perfect harmony as they admit their genuine undying love for each other.

And when the fear of losing Stolas permanently, hits Blitz like a motherfucking truck...

He's finally... finally able to let go of his mask around Stolas as he does what he can to comfort him after he lost everything.

Showing the small bits of romantic intimacy that he couldn't reciprocate back in Apology Tour.

Blitzø Buckzo, you make me fucking sick... how dare you be this fucking soft and cute and tender and loving. This man is fully aware that Stolas is still angry at him, but he doesn't care, he's just happy to have his birb back.

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where theo asks you out to a wedding

exes to lovers

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

In his defence, Theo landed on your doorstep only after he had exhausted all other options. He took in a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and knocked. After a minute or two, he heard the patter of hurried footsteps and the door swung open.

"Hey."

Your face looked a little less round, perhaps. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, but your eyes looked just as sweet and forgiving as they always did. Only now

"Hey."

No open hostility. Theo could work with that. He was starting to feel a little hot in his suit. He scratched the back of his neck. Your eyes narrowed at the action.

"What do you want?"

Theo coughed awkwardly.

"Why do you just assume I want something?"

The corner of your lip quirked up.

"I dated you for years, Theodore. I think I know when you want something."

He took a deep breath and stuck his hands into his pockets, glancing at the door as he struggled to meet your eye. He should have brought flowers or something. Merlin, what was so nerve-wracking about talking to you? He did it plenty enough, once upon a time.

"I...need a favour."

"I figured."

Theo wished you'd stop staring at him so plainly. Instead, you leaned against the doorframe, tilting your head up at him while you patiently waited for him to spit out whatever he had to say.

"Mattheo's getting married," he blurted out.

Instantly, your face softened. Theo felt a pang of guilt somewhere deep inside his gut. When the two of you were dating, you always had a soft spot for Mattheo, as did he for you. In fact, he seemed more heartbroken than Theo after the breakup. But the fact remained that he, like a lot of your mutual friends, knew Theo before you, and so his social circle remained somewhat intact while you faded into oblivion.

He hadn't thought twice about it at the time, but seeing your face light up made him realise that this must be the first you had heard about any of your old friends since graduation. He had never meant to tear you away from friends who were every bit yours as they were his.

Then again, he had never wanted to break up with you in the first place.

Your lips curved into a familiar smile that tugged at something inside his chest.

"That's...wow. I'm so happy for him. That's incredible."

"It is. I'm the best man."

"I should hope so. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Another painful silence drew out between the two of you. Theo stared at his palm uncomfortably.

"I need a date," he forced out.

You looked unimpressed.

"And? None of your model girlfriends can make it?"

Theo had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"I'm sick of - they're not my girlfriends."

"Right," you drawled, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too famous to be tied down, are we?"

Theo pulled at the knot of his tie desperately. He didn't remember you being this frustrating.

"I don't want to take any of them."

You shrugged. "Then go solo."

"C'mon, Y/N. Everyone's bringing a plus one."

You leaned towards him with a sardonic smile.

"That's the wonderful thing about not being your girlfriend anymore. Not. My. Problem. Bye now."

Theo jammed his foot in as you unsuccessfully tried to close the door.

"I'll pay you."

You laughed incredulously. "You can't be serious."

It had been a long shot, but he was running out of ideas. He dragged a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" What did you want? "More attention? More gifts? I'll pay for your dress. I'll buy you dinner."

"Careful, or I'll think this is an actual date."

"Please, Y/N," he started saying before his brain could catch up. "We used to be so good together."

Your eyes darkened. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"What happened?"

You folded your arms, your eyes gleaming in the dusk that had settled around the two of you. You shook your head almost helplessly.

"I don't know. You were...you were great. I loved you. You loved me. You started playing Quidditch. You got good." Your pressed your lips into a thin line. "Then you got mean."

Theo scoffed half-heartedly. "Look, I didn't -"

"You stopped listening to me, Teddy," you interrupted.

That shut him up. He didn't know what to say. You didn't sound upset or even angry. Just hollow and a little disappointed.

You took the invitation Theo had been loosely holding and scanned the details.

"What the hell," you muttered. "Sure. Why not?"

Theo blinked a few times. As hard as he had tried to persuade you, he hadn't expected you to actually agree.

"Really?"

He looked so earnest, you couldn't help yourself. You rolled your eyes almost affectionately.

"Keep your wallet away. I'll foot the bill for my dress."

"No - please, let m- "

There, in the dim twilight, with the salty evening air stinging your faces, you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Night, Teddy," you murmured.

This time, he didn't try to stop you as you shut the door.

[fishfingerpies]

Okay it's the middle of the night and I'm fully losing it (again) over the original 1977 real love demo it is so so heartbreaking emotionally like I can't even explain my thoughts right now but you guys get it right like I'm not alone it this right IT'S SO HEARTBREAKING! JUST CALL HIM ON THE PHONE! GOD!

And and and when, that one line when he says it's real love instead of 'real life' for some reason that one really gets me, tears my fucking heart up

And the way he laughs, like all small and embarrassed after saying the bit about the baby on the way and the farm. OH GOD SICK TO MY STOMACH HE WAS SO HEARTBROKEN AND ASHAMED OF IT STILL AND HE SHOULDNT HAVE HAD TO BE FUCK FUCKKKK

And the way he keeps saying 'let it go' and 'just got to let it go' and 'why don't you let it go' SOUL DESTROYING

And even the main refrain itself, the 'it's real life. it's real' I feel like there's so much to say about that, like!! I can't quite decide if it's, like, trying to remind himself that this here where he is now is real life, he's sad and heartbroken and just has to let it go and THAT'S what's real life, or if it's the fact that he loves him that's real life, and the line is more of a plea almost to everybody/everything making him feel like it isn't real because it's wrong to be gay or whatever (considering this was the 70s) and he's saying I love him and it's real life, it's real. That's makes the 'it's real love' bit hit even harder I think FUCK

Not to even mention the I used to hold you in my arms line like whatttt

Gosh I didn't mean to write this much I'm just losing it and I couldn't stop

DOES ANYONE ELSE KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT

PLEASE

[dollypopup]

People don't give Penelope enough props for the absolute BRAVERY it took in asking Colin for a kiss!!! I am tired of the rancid takes of 'oh, it makes her look pathetic-' no. Penelope asking for that kiss is VITAL in her growth, and pivotal to Polin's love story. Some flowers for Colin, first, for having put in years of work into their relationship so that Penelope trusts Colin to the point where she would even dare to ask it of him, but flowers to Penelope for asking. She trusts him and she's familiar with him and she KNOWS she's safe with him, and she took a leap of faith. So much of Penelope's arc is hiding what she wants and who she is, melding into the shadows, putting on a front. She doesn't confide in much of ANYONE. Not even Eloise knew about her love for Colin, or her existence as Lady Whistledown. Penelope keeps so much close to the chest.

Which makes it such an amazing moment when she opens up with Colin. When she reveals what she desires, and when he responds with 'If you want this, I'll give it to you'. So in that scene, when she's heartbroken and sad, after she has written of her own humiliation in Lady Whistledown to circulate amongst the ton, adding her own name to her list of bullies, when she thinks she is well and firmly on the shelf, and Colin comes to check on her, and he won't allow her to think badly of herself, and he even goes so far as to bribe her maid to have a moment with her, she opens her heart up enough to ask him for what she wants.

And that is beautiful. It deserves props and recognition. To ask for what we want as women is radical, and I'm frankly sick and tired of people thinking she's 'pathetic' for it. Penelope is brave in this scene. She is brave and vulnerable and Colin is there to tell her that is okay. That it should be rewarded. That he will catch her and he is there and she is right to trust him. He is the safety net as she tumbles and steps into the unknown.

Penelope Featherington looked the man that she loves in the eye, and she asked him to kiss her. How many of us would have the iron spine necessary for that? Sure, maybe she thinks she's hit rock bottom, but she could have swallowed her truth as she so often did. She chose not to. Penelope Featherington, who only ever voiced her opinions on a page, anonymously, stood before him with nothing to protect her heart, bare-faced, and told Colin Bridgerton she wanted him to kiss her. That she wanted to be loved.

And he did. He did and it was lovely. It was a fantastic kiss, and in that moment, you can tell that she *was* loved. Is loved. He held her like she was starlight, precious, delicately grasping her chin, brushing her cheek; he pecked her once and then went in for more. That kiss had desire and longing and tenderness in it. It was gentle and wholehearted. It was them learning each other, the both of them flaying away another layer for the other to keep. Penelope asked him for what she wanted and she got it. And it was ultimately the catalyst for all her desires to come to fruition.

I feel like we as women are told we must be passive so often: don't be too loud, don't ask them out, don't look 'desperate'. But fuck that: Penelope is an active participant in her love story. She asks Colin for what she wants and he provides it for her eagerly. That kiss made him realize that what he felt for her was far more than just friendship, and it started with 'Would you kiss me, Colin?' and ended with him outrunning HORSES to catch up with Penelope so he could, on his knees, profess how much he wants her and how he can't stop dreaming of their kiss. She toppled that first domino. May we all be so courageous. May we all be so bold. May we all be so loved.

Penelope put her own love story into motion with that kiss. We should fucking applaud her.

[sports-on-sundays]

Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

[suguae]

snow on the beach.

This was a short drabble, super sorry if it's bad. I've been sick and I wanted to write something!

+ angst

"It's snowing!" Utahime runs outside, her long hair jumping with every pounce. "Wait for me." Shoko walks with hands in her pockets making sure she follows closely behind Utahime.

You turn around to see Suguru walk out of the boys dorm. Haibara running out excitedly with Kento following behind. "Morning y/n!" Haibara waves before throwing himself in the snow. It was a morning to remember.

But all you could do was watch. Today was a morning to remember, but the night before was a nightmare. "He went on a run this morning." Suguru stood next to you interrupting yourself from thinking about last night. "...good for him." You look up at Suguru and awkwardly smile.

"Maybe it's best if we see other people?" Satoru says watching every muscle on your face soften as your eyes got watery. You loved him and he loved you, but never were you expecting him to say those words. But everything happens for a reason?

"If that's what you want..."

"Shoko told me that you think he has another chick?" You sigh and sit on the front step of the girls dorm, Suguru taking a seat right next to you. "A man only says that if he already has another women Sugu..." You fidget with your gloves, the cold wind caused the tip of your nose to get red. "You are both very important to me, but I have no clue of Satoru being with another-"

The nerve, Satoru Gojo had to break up with you the night after and bring the women he left you for back to the campus. His bright smile shining as he throws snowballs at the brunette. She was gorgeous, her laugh, her smile, her looks. Straight off the cover of vogue.

"Hey guys, this is my friend...Miyu." He introduces her to the group playing in the snow. Not bothering to come near you or Suguru. You scoffed looking over at Suguru who was just as shocked as you. "Y/n I'm sorry I really don't know why he'd-" Your eyes getting all watery again, God you hated being such a cry baby. "Don't apologize for him Sugu." You get up walking back to your room.

Satoru spots Suguru sitting, quickly making his way towards him. "Hey why aren't you playing in the snow with the rest?" Satoru takes a seat right next to Suguru. Did anyone think this would happen? Knowing Satoru it was a slim chance but he loved you. Everyone saw it? So why was he already introducing all his friends to another women. "What's the purpose of this...of her?" Suguru points at the brunette who was laughing with Haibara.

"She has a name...listen people move on and they-" Satoru starts giving some lame ass excuse. "Save it for someone more gullible." Suguru scoffed walking in to check on you. Not caring if he'd get punished for walking into the girls dorm.

Your blankets wrapping around your body, the tiny window cracked open letting the cold air enter the room, the vanilla scented candle burning. Lastly, the small sniffles coming out of you. "Y/n...?" It was Suguru, how could you not give in to Suguru. Engulfing him in a huge hug as soon as you feel his weight on the feet of your bed.

The painful cries get louder and each filled with hurt and betrayal. You really loved Satoru, if he'd hurt you this much. Then again it's only been a day since you two have officially ended. Your crying slowed down as you laid with Suguru in the bed. His hand softly petting your head as your arms tightly wrapped around him. "I told you." You mumbled, finally gathering the courage to speak again.

But Suguru didn't even know what to say. Still shocked as to why Satoru would even leave you. Suguru watched you softly drift back to sleep before leaving your room. Everyone was now sitting in the snow sipping on some hot chocolate. "Why hasn't y/n come out!" Utahime asked, watching Suguru leaving the girls dorm. "She doesn't feel good."

How pathetic. Not even bothering to check on you knowing how heartbroken you were and still are. What kind of friends were they? Watching them all sit and laugh as if you weren't hurting.

-

Hours passed, "Want to come get hotpot with us?"

No, Suguru didn't. He hated hotpot, only because you hated it. He loved hotpot. "I'm gonna pass." Satoru sighed before attempting to close the door to Suguru's room..."You got what you wanted, stop moping around."

"I wanted her happy." Suguru sighed looking up at his blue eyed friend. "...And she was the happiest with you." Suguru scrolls on his phone again waiting for Satoru to close the door. Which he thankfully did, not picking a fight.

The door slightly creaked to your room, not a word was said nor could you hear footsteps. Just a sigh and the door closing again. Maybe Sugu checking on you.

-

"Where did everyone go?" You asked walking into Suguru's room. Sitting on the rolling chair to his desk. "Hotpot." He turned his phone off taking all his attention to you. "You didn't go?" Why would he? Why would he leave you here all alone?

"No, wanna go grab something else to eat?" He suggested seeing the soft smile on your face, food never disappointed you. "Let me go bundle up." You rush back to your room.

"You look...warm." Suguru fought the urge to say beautiful. It felt wrong to go after you in the state you were in. He didn't want to feel like he was taking advantage of you. "I am." You smile.

-

"I would 10/10 go back." You give Suguru a thumbs up while rubbing your belly. Your eyes trail off to the side to see the beach. This was a new sight, Snow on the beach? "Can we go down?" You tap Suguru and point. "It's dangerous don't you thin-" before he could even finish his sentence you grabbed his hand and dragged him to the set of stairs. You knew he'd say something like that. So you wasted no time.

Reaching the bottom step, you slip. Your butt hitting the fluffy snow while Suguru fell right on top. You couldn't help but laugh. "What did I-" You threw a snowball at his face to escape from him. running along the snowy white shore. "I'm gonna get you for that!" Suguru giggled running toward you, which he failed due to tripping over his own foot.

You sigh taking a seat next to Suguru. Watching the steady water. "Sugu...Do you like me?" You look at him, waiting for an answer. Embarrassing if he'd say no....

"If I said yes?"

-

"Look how cute they look! I want to do that too, imagine me and you just sitting on the snowy beach?" The brunette clutched onto Satoru's arm. When all Satoru could think about Suguru's words..."She was the happiest with you."

The awful imagine in his head of you wrapped around in your blanket, the same candle Suguru saw was now dead when Satoru walked in. It was something Satoru never imagine. But Miyu made him happy, you made him happy too but he just had more stuff in common with Miyu.

"Miyu, Do you think when two people are too different, it would be hard to work the relationship?" Miyu looked away from the two on the beach. "No...I think if you truly love them, difference is what makes the bond stronger. You learn new stuff about them and they learn new stuff about you." Miyu smiled leaning her head into Satoru's chest.

ouch.

-

"If you said yes...I don't know actually." You lean your head onto Suguru's shoulder. "I love you Suguru don't get me wrong, and I appreciate everything you've been doing for me ever since...you know."

"But..." Suguru looked up at the stars getting ready for you reject him. He couldn't possibly hate you if you rejected him though. No matter what he'd still love you. Like always...."I'm not ready, but you know that."

"Give me a couple weeks, or months..." You grab his hand. "I'd wait for eternity for you y/n....I promise." He squeezes your hand, securing his promise.

-

You two are now making your way back to the dorms. It was darker and quieter. More peaceful. Satoru was sitting out in the front of the girls dorm as if he were waiting. "Clear things up with him..." Suguru whispers. How could you? He hurt you...

You walk towards the dorms, watching Satoru lift his head up at the sound of the snow crunching. "Y/n...." You stop and sat right next to him. "She's beautiful." You look up at the sky, the cold crispy wind hitting your face. "I'm just surprised that..."

"I still love you y/n...and you just won't leave my head. I think and you just keep coming in my head. Seeing you with Suguru drives me crazy and I can't see you just drift away so easily from me."

You look over to see the blue teary eyed, "You should've thought about that before you decided to end things with me Satoru." You were right. You were always right. That's what Satoru loved about you the most. The words you would mutter out would always have a strong righteous meaning.

"And you look happier with her." You wipe the tear from your face. It was true he looked happier, he felt happier too. But seeing you slip so easily ruined the happiness for him. "Maybe next time introduce me, I want to meet her." You smile getting up. Satoru also stood up hovering over you, swallowing you up in a big up. Which surprised you...by a lot.

"I'm so fucking sorry..."

-

"A wedding on the beach...not a fan of the beach but this is too cute." Shoko drops the dead cigarette on the sand, Utahime following her behind amazed at the decor. "They outdid it. I love it!" Utahime jumps up and grabs Shoko's arm.

"This was definitely all planned by y/n." Kento picks up the littered trash from Shoko and throws it in the nearest trash. "No, Suguru would never overbear her with all this work." Satoru sighed.

Much older now...Satoru understands how it felt to lose such a prized possession. The way you read your vows to Suguru and how much love and time you took with yours. He knew Suguru's had to be longer and just as beautifully written as yours. "So she was your ex?" Megumi whispered. That's the only label he had to you. "No wonder she left you for Suguru, you're so weird." Megumi disses the white haired man in the bind fold.

He sighed, "I left her...rookie mistake."

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

cw for ; cheating like really bad cheating dskfsk, mind games, bisexual reader (its relevant!!!), emotional sadism, yandere in the most uncomfortable flavor, and sexuality fuckery.

readers gender is intentionally left neutral!!. @p00pdev1l tag for my beloved.

You can feel yourself starting to cry again.

You have a headache. The noise of the izakaya is flooding out into the streets. Even with alcohol and cigarettes and other distractions, you can't help but feel like you're about to throw up. The dry-heave works itself up to your throat, and you smoke a little to shove it back down.

You were careful this time.

When you hear footsteps walk themselves next to you, and see nice black dress shoes from your gaze is downcast - you already know it's Suguru.

You feel yourself getting sick again. Your voice is hoarse, scratchy with pain and tears. You're unimaginably angry at him, and you're sure if you were a little drunker, you'd take your pocket knife to his throat.

But the words don't come. You're so frustrated you just ended up crying again, hiccuping. Something falls onto your shoulders, a jacket that smells like cologne.

That wakes you up, makes you turn your head to one side. Your heartbeat is hard and loud, and your anger is the only thing in your body. Your seething, all hard lines and rage.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He shrugs. "It's cold. You'll get sick."

"Don't act like you give a single fuck about me, you psychopath."

His reaction to that is cold. Makes your blood run cold. "Call me whatever you want but don't say I don't care about you."

"Fuck off, Suguru," The feeling of his name is intimate in the same way knives are. Sharp against the roof of your mouth because of the smooth way the syllables slice. The familiarity of a cut. "Go inside and fuck off. Go be with..." Your words trail off.

"I'd rather be out here," He assures, then shrugs. He joins you in smoking, but you turn your gaze back to the pavement so you don't have to look. "She'll be fine without me."

There's a lot of things you don't understand about him. What you understand least though is this. How long has it gone on? How long did he plan on doing this?

The first time Getou stole the girl you loved from you, you're nearly too heartbroken to stay friends with him. It was your first real crush. A girl in the same year as you. You loved her. She smelled soft like roses and put her head in your lap. You managed to confess to her despite yourself at the end of your second-year.

She was your friend, still - even as she let you down gently. Told you that she had a boyfriend now. He was your friend, actually.

The first time it happened, you thought about cutting your ties with Getou. He didn't pretend to be apologetic to you, said she was cute and he liked her. He didn't say he was sorry.

Instead he said: "You shouldn't be with a girl who could get over you so easily." And leaves it at that.

You almost got physical with him, you remember. Gojo stopped you.

Over the years, the incident becomes pattern enough to recognize. The first is a mistake, the second a frustrating coincidence. The third time it happens you do get into an altercation. Each time Getou confronts you he says the same thing. That if a girl really loved you, she wouldn't been with him so easily. If a girl really loved you, she shouldn't have been so easy for him to persuade.

You think abut killing him. It's so frustrating, so humiliating, so painful it nearly puts you in therapy. The fourth time in happens, you try to cut him off but you can't. Your lives are so tied together you can't avoid seeing him and for whatever reason he can't leave you alone.

When there's no one you're interested in, he's your friend after all. That's the strangest part. The part that makes the least sense, that he acts like your fucking friend when he does that to you but he does it again and again and again. It hurt less when it was just puppy crushes. Eventually you grew numb to it. Gave up on love for a while.

When you meet Mikoto, you don't make the mistake of showing your interest. You especially don't show it around Getou. On the job, a sorcerer from a branch in the Nara prefecture who's recently moved. A nice woman with black hair and soft eyes, you seek her friendship first and don't let yourself indulge in anything more.

You don't dote on her more than friends. You don't show your feelings off. You don't tell anyone, not even Gojo whom you tell everything, or Shoko - who you tell when you don't want Getou finding out. You bury the feeling of love in yourself and hope they die there. You hope she ends up with anyone but you, or you in some miracle.

You fall in love with her because it's who you are. Getou shows up with her at your gathering the minute you begin to accept it.

If he doesn't hate you, it must be something much stronger. Disgust or pure disdain. Something stronger than hate must drive him to do this so perpetually.

It's not even something you can tell anyone. What do you tell girls before you go out with them? What do you say to people when they ask why you and him act so odd?

There's nothing to say. Nothing to explain. It's so fucked up that you wouldn't even know where to begin.

Your voice is trembling as you take another drag of your cigarette. "How did you know?"

He laughs a little. "You make it obvious."

"Why do you keep doing this to me...?" You ask, defeated. Broken, maybe. "....I really loved her."

Getou shrugs again. You can tell even if you don't see it. "She was the same as the rest of them. I'm doing you a favor."

"Do you even like her?"

He takes a drag of his cigarette and looks at you a little longer than you expct. "So-so."

"I hate you," You give up on everything else, letting your cigarette fall to the ground. Your voice is shot. "You're fucking horrible. Just leave me alone. Please, please just leave me alone."

There's a minute of silence there. He stamps his own cigarette out and sighs. "You should come in. You'll catch a cold." You don't reply. He sighs again. "I'll buy you a drink."

You break down in tears all over again.

When you're in highschool, you date Satoru for a week.

Suguru remembers this. It's one of the only things about his highschool experience that feel standout. A defining moment of his youth, where the two of you try it just because everyone says you should and neither of you really like it. You end up being friends again, laughing it off after it happens.

But he hated it.

There was a pit in his stomach the entire week. Even though you barely dated, and only really held hands as a joke - Suguru hated it. You kissed Satoru too, you confessed. He was a decent kisser, but you didn't feel much.

It was a joke of a relationship. Still.

He remembers too, the first time you had your first real crush. Up until then, you'd really never thought of anyone else. There was no one for Suguru to care about. But he remembers exactly when it happened, and where - how the four of you were slacking off in the storage room, passing around Shoko's cigarette. He remembers the way you got embarrassed telling them about her. How you could barely keep the smile off of your face.

The first time Suguru steals someone from you, it's during highschool. It wasn't because he had really wanted her. He hated her. Hated how she smiled at you and hated how innocently she spoke. But when he stepped closer to her, she blushed.

It was to get her to fall for him. And that wouldn't do, he didn't think. How could you like someone with so little resolve? When she couldn't be even a little loyal to you?

He asked her out on a whim that time. But he saw how angry it made you. How your eyes were wet with tears and how much you hated him in that moment.

How much you thought of him. Have you ever before then? Considered him so much? Suguru didn't think so.

It becomes an obsession, Suguru can admit. It didn't really matter who it was, though it'd been mostly girls. Anyone you showed interest in. Anyone who caught your eye. Suguru got their first and you always, always looked so miserable about it. Like a puppy who can't get on a couch, he thinks.

He prefers when you've already been with them. He prefers knowing that your skin has touched theirs. The parts of you that linger in their life become Suguru's so wholly. When he can smell your scent and taste your cigarette smoke. It'd be better if it was you, but there was something gratifying in this.

In the roundabout ways of finding you. Of seeing pictures of you in their phone, or of tasting you. It's like being with you, even though it's never enough. Always wants to make him break you more.

He likes when they cheat on you with him. He likes when it's just after. They get some cheap thrill out of it. Suguru can entertain it even if it disgusts him.

It's the only way your shirts end up in his closet. The only way he can smell your new shampoo so deeply because you share it. They think that he must hate you. He's sure you think that too.

But that's not it. He couldn't hate you. All the people he's ever fucked, he's tried to find evidence of your intimacy with them. Kiss marks he didn't leave on their skin, clothes they don't own, music they wouldn't normally listen to. You would. They're all yours.

He'd ask about you to them. Often. Listen to the parts of yourself that you'd been trying to keep secret from him.

He'd take it all by force and discard them all afterwards. That was all he wanted. You were all he wanted.

He liked seeing you angry with him. Liked seeing you cry and weep. Liked that you couldn't go anywhere or love anyone without thoughts of him following you and haunting you.

Satoru thinks he should just ask you out already. Suguru doesn't think he's broken you down enough. You need it to hurt a little more. You need to think of him a little more until you can't love anyone else.

Suguru wants to see you hurt a little more. Until you're so broken you're really begging. When he brings her with him today, you react even worse than he could have hoped for it. He shivers a little thinking about it.

He's getting closer to really breaking you, he thinks.

He looks at you now as he puts out his cigarette, broken from his thoughts.

"You should come in. You'll catch a cold." You don't reply. He sighs again. "I'll buy you a drink."

Suguru turns around to leave after he says it. Goes back inside. Before the door of the izakaya closes again, he can hear the way you sob so desperately.

He smiles at that. Just a little.

[i23kazu]

SLEEPY PAPA CUDDLES

characters. neuvillette x gn!reader genre. domestic romantic fluff. an. MORE melusine daddy content. please send help guys i literally cannot stop making daddy neuvi content | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

on the days when some of the melusine get sick, neuvillette wishes he could stay home.

the heartbroken wails of his sick littlest ones pierce his heart – but as chief justice, he rarely gets to take the day off. even after scouring the pages of the fontainian law books, he finds nothing that allows him to take parental leave because his child is sick... because you're a stay at home parent.

(therefore, the responsibility falls onto you to take care of the little ones, as much as neuvillette would like to share it with you.)

early in the morning, you feel some sort of movement within your bed... you sleepily turn to look at neuvillette getting up and walking to your littlest's room.

"it's alright, ma trésor... papa's here." you can hear him attempting to soothe little puca.

puca's cries resound through the halls of the house, neuvillette's quiet shh-shhs soon following. it's not long til you hear the sobs that turn to whimpers, a sweet picture of puca laying her head on your husband's shoulder forming.

it doesn't get better when everyone is awake. iara, puca, and mela are all now down with the same cold puca cried her little lungs out for last night, and all three sweethearts sniffle at the dining table, hot soup freshly ladled out in front of them.

"papa, don't go! please?" iara cries, tugging on neuvillette's sleeve. justice has no time left to waste, and neither does your husband.

"i'm sorry, ma petit ange, but i have to go to work," neuvillette responds remorsefully, picking up iara and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"but i don't want you to go! stay home! i want to stay with you!" iara wails, burying her head in neuvillette's shoulder. he begins to bounce her gently on his hip.

"i'll see all of you tonight, ma chérie. alright? i'll come back early today."

at last, little iara's hands seem to finally let go of neuvillette's shirt, her sobs still wracking her frame.

"come here, sweet girl," you gently hug her from behind, gathering the little melusine in your arms. iara bursts into wails once she hugs you tightly, heart broken over feeling sick and having to say goodbye to papa.

you distract the children while neuvillette slips away to work, undetected. the rest of the day goes somewhat smoothly, with the older ones helping out around the house while the younger ones rest in bed.

by the time the clock says that papa was about to come home, all of the little melusines that lived in your household were all fast asleep, hands softly tucked under the covers.

"i'm home-" neuvillette walks in, setting his work bag down. why was it so quiet? a typical day included a chorus of "welcome home, papa!" and the pitter-pattering of melusine feet padding to the doorway.

"mon cœur! please, calme– i just got the bébés to take a nap," you shush him, cracking open the door to the melusine's room, just a touch.

neuvillette wants to laugh. never in his... centuries? eons? of life, did he ever think he would have evolved to be a man of domesticity.

i know nothing of french all of this was google

reblogs w/ tags & comments appreciated !!!

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[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Angst with a happy ending, older Eddie, reader acting like a brat. Arguments then fluff. 18+, mdni.

🎀✨💞

Sex. Just sex. That's all you were to Eddie. Knowing it and accepting it was hard for you. So much so that you were in one hell of a mood.

And acting like a major brat. At first Eddie took it in his stride, maybe you were getting sick or you didn't sleep that good.

He usually had endless patience when it came to you. You had him wrapped around your little finger yet you didn't even know it. Not that Eddie would admit it but it was true.

Despite that your attitude was beginning to grate on him and he had enough.

Eddie loses patience. "What the fuck is wrong with you today? why are you so bitchy?" He's put up with your sullenness and attitude all day and he's tired of it.

"I'm fine" you snap, there's no way you could tell him what was really wrong. That you were completely in love with him and he only saw you as a fuck buddy.

Then that would be the end of your relationship and you didn't want it to end. You had grown attached to Eddie so quickly, you'd be heartbroken if your relationship ended.

"Obviously you're not fine if you've been in a mood all day. What the hell is wrong? Clearly I spoil you too fucking much because you're acting like a spoiled brat" tears pool in your eyes and you will them away.

"So now I'm just an annoyance to you?" You question him and he shakes his head, throwing his arms up in the air.

"I give up. You're twisting my words" you look away feeling your heart sink at his words. Maybe you should just tell him? Rip off the band aid or so to speak.

Unfortunately your mouth runs away with you before you can think about it. "You're the one who called me a brat" he rolls his eyes, folds his arms across his chest and gives you a dark look.

"Because you are! From the moment you woke up to now, all I've had is you bitching in my ear even when I asked you what is wrong, you don't answer"

Anxiety claws in your veins and you don't know what to say to salvage the situation. You shouldn't have been so moody, you know that but the argument had pretty much spiralled out of control.

"Well why don't I just leave then if I'm annoying you so much?" you snap and gather your clothes. He shrugs and his body language turns cold, colder then you've ever seen.

"Maybe you should" the tears flow freely at his tone and you kick yourself as you rush downstairs. You may have just ruined everything.

You were so scared that admitting your feelings to Eddie would mean you would lose him, and it was killing you keeping your feelings a secret.

Turns out that maybe you had just lost him anyway.

...

After the argument with Eddie you feel even worse and plan to cuddle in bed and shut off from the world just for a little bit.

Eddie had other plans. It isn't long before he's at your house, quietly letting himself in and making his way upstairs. He hated seeing you cry, it was like a punch to the gut and he was anxious to make it up to you.

He was also very keen to get to the root of the problem and why you were acting out so much today. Something was bothering you for you to act this way. He wanted to find out what it was.

Your quiet sobs reach him and it tears at his heart as he enters your room and finds you curled up on the bed. Hiding away.

Tenderly Eddie stokes your hair and you turn to face him. He wipes your tears away and sighs.

"You didn't have to come over so late. I know you're working early tomorrow" you murmur and he softens as he lays beside you.

"I'm my own boss. I make my own start time sweetheart. I had to see you. Couldn't sleep without my princess beside me could I?" He settles beside you and you smile.

"I'm sorry, I was bitchy. I didn't mean to be" he kisses your hair and nods accepting the apology.

"I'm sorry, princess. I shouldn't have yelled at you or called you a brat. Please tell me what's wrong? You're obviously anxious about something" you bite your lip and he waits for you to say.

"I'm scared" you whisper to him and he feels heartbroken at this. He never wants you to feel scared or that you can't talk to him, you can talk to him about anything.

"Princess, you can tell me anything. You never have to be scared of telling me anything" he holds you close and feels you relax. You still hide your face in his shoulder as you work up the courage to talk to him.

"I'm in love with you, I know you don't feel the same way but I just wanted you to know. It's killing me not saying anything"

Eddie is stunned. This is what got you so worked up, that you were in love with him? Did you think he'd reject you?

Jesus h Christ, did you not realise that he was so in love with you too? He'd never felt this way about anyone. It scared him how deep his feelings were but he has been planning to tell you for ages.

He just wanted it to be the right time and be romantic. Turns out he had waited too long and you were thinking he didn't love you.

That wouldn't do at all.

"I'm so in love with you. How can you not see that?" Eddie caresses your cheek and you feel all of your fears slip away. You snuggle into him and peer up with pure joy on your face.

"I love you too Eddie"

All of this angst and shit could have been avoided if you had both just spoken up sooner. Both of you make a vow that night to always communicate your feelings.

But first a lot of making up was required ;)

[h8aaz]

⭒permanent price.

sum. sam has to deal with the loss of you; and grieving is never easy.

cw. angst . mention of reader's death . est. relationship . s7 leviathan arc but mixed with the bunker era? ignore it .

lock the door, but what for?

no one to walk in on me anymore

sam sobbed as quietly as he could as the flames burned in front of him. you were gone. really gone this time.

you had practically forced him to promise not to bring you back. and god, did he want to break it so bad. but he reminded himself of how you felt, what you said.

“we've died and come back multiple times over the years, and i'm tired, sam. i'm tired of this—this lifestyle. i wanna grow old with you. safely. i don't wanna have to worry about what creature or biblical figure is gonna come at us every second. i just wanna be with you, sammy. but if it comes to it again; don't do it. don't bring me back. i know it'll be hard, but you gotta let me go, okay? please just let me go.”

he shuddered under the warmth emmitting from the fire. the flickering orange glow illuminated him, reflecting off his tears. he was completely heartbroken. he had held you as the lights faded from your eyes, weakly babbling about your dream life and how in love with him you were.

were.

that word tastes sour. it reads disgustingly.

you shouldn't have to be described with that awful word. all it does is remind him that you're gone. how he won't get to wake up and sleep next to you anymore. won't get to make a separate pot of coffee just so its the way you like it, and pour it into your favorite mug that he got you before you started dating. he won't get to hear you laugh, see you smile, flinch when you scold him, hold you when you cry, take care of you when you're sick. nothing.

he had to bring you back to the bunker. he had to explain to everyone what happened, what killed you. those stupid fucking leviathans. they didn't deserve to take you from him. truly, nothing did. but they did anyway. because that's what god wanted, i guess.

his love life has been doomed since jess—maybe even before that. so you meeting a tragic end wasn't completely out of the question, but not exactly a no-brainer, either. he had told you about jess, as you two had met a few years shy of her death. and you had expected something to happen to you after lucifer admitted to having demons watch over sam all his life.

but expecting doesn't prepare you for when it happens.

sam had a gut feeling that it was a bad idea for you to sneak and spy on some of the leviathans. like he just knew something was going to go wrong for the two of you.

“i just don't think you should go alone, that's all,” he tried to reason as simply as he could, not wanting to say why he really thought you shouldn't go.

“i'll be okay, sam, i've done this shit before,” you responded, lightly punching his shoulder.

he scoffed, his lips twitching into smile, but it didn't meet his eyes. the expression fell from him quickly, and you could tell. you just knew his real reason. just by looking at him.

“hey,” you spoke softly. you turned in your seat as much as the confined space of the car would allow you to, resting a hand on his arm. “i'll be okay, you don't gotta worry about that. i can handle them. bobby taught us how to kill 'em, remember? sure, it'll be tough, but i can do it. you know i can.”

he struggled to meet your gaze, his head turning in minuscule snaps. “yeah, yeah, i know.” he let out a hesitant breath before moving his body to face yours, placing his hand over yours and wrapping his fingers around it. “i'm just scared. scared that you could get hurt, or- or worse, you know?”

“i know, honey, i know,” you soothed. “but if we're gonna get closer to taking down bitch roman, you gotta let me do this, please.” you pleaded, scrunching your brows as he laughed.

“what? what did i say? why are you laughing?” you pouted before letting out a laugh. “bitch roman?” he cackled, “his name's dick, baby.” he grinned at you, clutching his chest. “dick, bitch, same thing.” you rolled your eyes playfully.

to think that was the last time he'd ever hear you laugh. and it was because you were making fun of—yeah, bitch roman.

and now here he was, giving you a proper hunter's funeral. just like you'd always wanted. you were raised into hunting like him and dean, having this whole ordeal programmed into your head since day one. even when you'd talk to him about your dream future, you'd always go out like this. buried as a hunter.

when the whole ceremony was done, he told everyone to head to bed, to let him take care of you. just one last time.

he dismantled what he needed to, to get your covered bones and whatever was left of you off the pyre. he carried you over to a hole he had previously dug, right next to the garden you had started last year. he placed you inside gently, tears free falling, cascading, down his face. he blinked rapidly at an attempt of clearing his vision. he wanted to get everything right for you. you were the best, and you deserved as such.

his nose was red and runny, sniffles sounding out left and right. most of your things were burned already, except a few items to keep your memory by. he placed a broken charm bracelet—from one of your anniversaries—onto the charred bones of your chest. it had been ruined during your final fight, and it was quickly found by sam before he even got to you.

his chest burned and ached. all over broken and choked sobs. he was shaking at every turn of his body, and push of his shovel into the nearby pile of dirt. he never would've thought he'd have to salt, burn, and bury you one day—let alone find and hold you as you exhaled your last few breaths. hell, he was there. he was just twenty feet away. sitting. waiting, in that damn car where you kissed and hugged him normally for the last time.

sometimes he can still taste your blood in his mouth. you insisted on feeling his lips on yours as you let go. and he felt it. he felt that last sigh ghost his lips; his trembling and begging, and yours falling flat and cold. when he pulled away, he saw that you had closed your eyes, a courtesy that was your last thought. you closed your own eyes to save him from looking into them. from shattering him further.

you were caring and thoughtful to the very end.

an end that should've never came. not now, at least. you should be here. the two of you were supposed to get out. be normal, happy. sam had helped you build those two rocking chairs for when you'd get old. it was a task you brought up to him unexpectedly, but he was glad to do it with you, especially with the considered future of it all.

but now?

now the chairs sat in the bunker's storage.

not forgotten, but preserved.

preserved with your left over belongings that he begged and fought to keep. because he was preserving you. he'll let go, you know he will. but you also know it'll be years until then.

and all you can do is watch. watch him grieve. watch him cry. watch him yell. watch him fight. all due to his love for you.

the words that you say are the price that i pay

gabs yaps. GUYS DONT BE MAD AT ME PLEASEEEE IM SO SORRY LMFAOOO DONT KILL ME 🙏🙏 new fic layout is inspired by my dear millie's ( @soldiersgirl )!!

tags. @starzify @sunsbaby @bejeweledinterludes @soldiersgirl @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bruisedfig @littlesoulshine @bluemerakis @ultravi0lence14 @legalmente-loca @sacr1ficialang3l @j2archives @mahi-wayy @emeraldcrs @liiiilsss @jdmsslvt

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⭒divider by me!!⭒

[navybrat817]

For your ficlets, how about Andy Barber and notes tucked beneath your morning coffee. And let’s go fluffy, since it leans that way and it’s a ficlet 🤣 (that said, spicy could be fun too 😉)

I added a touch of angst (not much!). I hope you don't mind!

Post-It Notes

Pairing: Andy Barber x Female Reader

Summary: You like to surprise Andy with post-it notes.

Word Count: Over 750

Warnings: Established relationship, fluff, touch of angst and insecurities, comfort, feels, Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The first post-it note you left for Andy was in his briefcase. You wrote, “Have a great day!” with a smiley face and heart. It was a silly thing really. You just wanted to do something to make him smile when he went to work.

“I loved the note, honey,” he told you once he got home, showing you that he kept it, too.

It became your new thing after that.

It was fun thinking of new places to hide notes for him. In the dresser drawers, tucked inside of his favorite book, in his lunch container. You managed to sneak one into his wallet once and even in his glove compartment when he wasn’t looking. It was almost like a game and you imagined his smile or chuckle every time he found one when you weren’t around.

The notes came in different colors and shapes. You tried to come up with different kinds of quotes, too, that ranged from telling him to have a good day to how much you loved him to how sexy he was. You wanted each to feel special and to be a surprise.

“You spoil me,” he smiled when he found one in his tacklebox during a weekend trip.

For some reason you worried after a few weeks that he’d get sick of the notes and you stopped leaving them for him for a short time. You weren’t sure why you suddenly felt insecure about them. It wasn’t like he said anything. It just felt… Well, like you were being clingy or too much.

“Morning,” Andy smiled when you ventured into the kitchen. He was already at the island sipping his coffee, dressed in his usual suit sans the jacket. He had a mug ready for you, too.

“Morning,” you smiled back, greeting him with a kiss. “Mmm. Caffeine,” you said happily, your hands warming as they wrapped around the mug and inhaling as you lifted it up to your face.

“Yep,” he smirked, looking at you expectantly as he took another sip.

“What?” you asked curiously. You knew that look. What was he up to?

His eyes flickered to where your mug was sitting before he looked at your face again. Glancing down, you gasped when you spotted the post-it note. You recognized Andy’s handwriting and smiled when you read it: “I’ll always love you, honey.”

“You…” you set the mug down so you could trace the letters with your finger. “You left me a post-it note.”

“Well, you’re always leaving them for me, and they brighten my day. I wanted to do the same for you,” he explained, your face falling a bit since you hadn’t given him a note in days. “Are you okay?”

“I thought they’d annoy you after a while, so I stopped.” You smiled sadly when you faced him. He looked heartbroken, and you felt like an idiot. “And it was nothing you said or did, okay? I promise. You know I just get in my own head sometimes.”

Everyone had moments like that when the mean voice won.

“You really don’t know much they mean to me, do you, honey?” he asked quietly, stepping away before you could answer. “Hold on.”

You sipped your coffee while you waited for him to come back, staring at the post-it note again as guilt churned in your stomach. It was so sweet of him to do that. Why did you doubt yourself?

“Here,” he said, coming back into the kitchen with a small album in hand. You hadn’t seen it before. “Take a look.”

Flipping it open and looking through the pages, tears clogged your throat. It was every single note you had given him, each one carefully preserved. “You saved all of them,” you whispered, a tear slipping out from the corner of your eye.

“Of course, I did.” His beard tickled your cheek as he kissed it away. “They mean everything to me, and so do you.”

Turning your head, you brushed your lips against his thanks. A thank you for keeping them, for assuring you, and for loving you. “I’ll keep leaving them then.”

“And I can’t wait to figure out where you hide the next one,” he said, slipping his arms around your waist. “You know, it’s still early. I think we should go back to bed.”

“But you’re already dressed,” you teased. “Never stopped us before,” he chuckled, kissing you again.

Having a partner like Andy made you feel blessed, and you couldn’t wait to leave him another note.

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[jinuaei]

Rings

Yandere! Alastor x Accidental Spouse! Reader part 2.5

Pt.1 --- Pt. 2

Warnings: Blood, low-key lewd, drooling over blood, mans down bad

You’ve been fidgeting a lot with your ring finger, it's obvious with how much you keep rubbing and twisting said hand whenever you're lost in thought or when you're doing nothing. 

Maybe that's why Alastor is suddenly asking if he can hold your hand. The concern in his eyes would have been strange if you knew his true reputation down in hell, but it's good that you don't know, right?

As he grips your hand with his, you look away from him in embarrassment, eyes flitting around, daring not to look straight at his face. He doesn't share the same sentiment, with him still staring at you, you feel the flush of your skin creep in, getting hotter and hotter the more he stays quiet. Finally you ask a question, trying to salvage the situation into becoming less embarrassing for the both of you.

“Is there something wrong…?”

He holds your gaze for a few seconds before falling to your hands, caressing your palm tenderly. “My dear, you should stop hurting yourself, I would be heartbroken to see wounds on you and I couldn't even do anything about it,” he starts, turning your hands upside down to see any marks left by yourself.

“There doesn't seem anything extraordina–”

Curious as to what captured his attention, you follow his stare to your ring finger, where therein lies the very mark that has been plaguing your thoughts ever since you first saw it.

“Hm… you must have had a rebellious phase to have a tattoo like this, I should be informed if you have more than one of these no?,” he coos at you, kissing the offending finger.

You're too nervous to tell him the truth; that this tattoo is not from you, that it just appeared when you fell down in hell. In the end, you mustered up the courage to do so, the statement falling from your lips clumsily.

At first Alastor thought it was said to tease him, but when it slithered around your ring finger, as if to prove him wrong… Instantly his soft gaze turned sharp, dials appeared in his eyes, spazzing and turning. Static fills the silence and his body contorts into a much bigger and much scarier version of him.

“Someone tried to claim you before me? HAH! I'd love to see them try…”

Dangerous thoughts bounce around his mind, filling him further with rage and resentment. But when he felt you quiver underneath him, he stopped, calming himself so as to not scare you any further. He was able to shrink himself into his default form.

“Forgive me my sweet, I did not mean to scare you. I lost my temper thinking about the audacity of someone trying to steal you away from me…” he narrows his eyes at the ‘tattoo’, “and this mark is rather unsightly, I ought to put a ring big enough to cover it, for now though…”

The smile on his face is borderline deranged when he thought of something that could be a good substitute for a ring. He lifts your shaking hand up to his lips, kissing it gently, letting his breath wash over your fingers. Positioning your hand so that the ring finger is the only one left uncurled, he opens his mouth and engulfs it.

You were baffled at what's happening, but a sharp pain at the base of your finger changed the bafflement into panic. Trying to pull your hand away, you were unsuccessful in doing so, even pushing on his shoulder doesn't seem to do anything. 

Is he trying to bite my finger off???

You can feel your blood dripping down his throat and this motherfucker has the audacity to enjoy it, he even had his eyes closed and everything! Thankfully, he stopped biting down as hard, enough to pierce your skin but not enough to sever it.

But now there's a new sensation traveling up your hand down to your arm and towards your whole body. You watch in sick fascination as you can feel him wrap his tongue around your finger, drinking the sweet ichor coming from the bite. He’s practically making out with your finger, sucking and drooling on it. 

The ears on his head flatten in pleasure at the taste of YOU on his tongue, your scent and warmth overwhelming his senses to the point where he almost lost control if it wasn't for your yelp of pain as he tries to bite down again.

With a ‘pop!’ he detached himself from you, having the gall to look ashamed at the low-key lewd display of possessiveness. His grin comes back tenfold, lips stained with blood, as he shows off the final product of his great idea. 

Your ring finger, although stained with saliva and golden blood, has teeth marks where the tattoo was supposed to be. His teeth marks. 

The snakes look mutilated, covered by blood and the wound encompassing the entirety of it. 

“There, now other demons will see that you are taken,” he kisses the bite one last time before stating, “if the wound heals, do tell me I would love to mark you up again.”

[peacheeeliz]

029. am i stupid (wc: 640)

The library was eerily quiet, with the distant commotion of the Valentine's Day Dance keeping the place a bit more lively. Mark sat in his seat at the study room table, head buried in his palms as he took in his last conversation with his now ex-girlfriend. He should feel sad. He should look back on those texts with sorrow; but he can't. No matter how hard he tries, he can't. He doesn't know what he feels. Happy? Shame? Content?

The study room door creaks open, and Mark's eyes rise from his hands to look behind him. They're met with your figure standing in the doorway, a concerned look washing over your face as you stared back at him. Despite that, a smile plays at your lips as you walk to join him at the table.

“I'm pretty sure you're missing out on a pretty sick party back there,” you tease, taking your seat beside him. “Ok, maybe not that sick. But you know what I mean.”

Mark lets out a soft laugh, “yeah, definitely not that sick.”

You laugh with him for a moment, but then you remember why you were out looking for the man. “Everything alright? You left in a bit of a hurry,” you start, eyes avoiding his. “I was a little worried, is all.”

His eyes soften, and the smile on his face falls, watching you look anywhere but him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you or anything,” he tells you, reaching out to take your hand in his. He gently rubs his thumb across your skin, “I just needed some air is all.”

He pauses for a moment, taking in a deep breath. “Karina broke up with me, and I guess I just needed to take a break from the dance,” he explains, nodding slowly. “She, uh, started talking to another guy and ended up losing feelings for me. So, she broke it off.”

“Mark, I'm so sorry,” you say as you finally turn to look at him. Your heart races at the soft touch of his fingers grazing against your skin, and despite your words, your stomach flutters at the information he shares.

“I should feel heartbroken, right?” He questions, staring at you with soft eyes. “But, I don't. I guess you kinda know why, but I guess I'm more… glad? Than anything else. It saves for a messier break-up.”

A blush spreads across your cheeks at his gaze, so you turn away again. You take a deep breath, “maybe… you should just stay single for a bit.” Your suggestion takes him by surprise. “I mean, it's probably the healthiest solution.”

After a moment, he draws back away from you and pulls his hand into his lap, clearing his throat. “Yeah, yeah, you're right,” he sighs, but sends you a reassuring smile. “I should just stay single.”

A silence falls between the two of you, and the party just a few buildings away comes back into earshot. Mark wanted nothing more than to bring you back to that party – to bring you back as his date. But his head reels with your words, “you should just stay single for a bit.” He can't think of anything else but you. He was just so content with his break-up. Why now is he feeling heartbroken?

“We should probably return to the party. They're probably worried about us, ” you start suddenly, standing up quickly. “Uhm, I'll meet you back there, ok?”

Mark can only nod as you make your way out of the study room, slouching back in his chair as you disappear from his view. His heart is pounding right out of his chest, his mind replaying your words over and over again, and his head falls into his palms again.

Why must he be haunted by his inability to get over you?

synopsis ⤏ mark, desperate to talk to the cute girl in his japanese class, forms a study group. who knew that other struggling college students might want to join a study group?

a/n: double update since i ended up posting so late 😮‍💨 when i said slowburn, i meant SLOWBURN

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[bked0n-lorazepam]

"The Wrong Kind of Jealousy" p. hockstetter Oneshot

---------------->

Summary: A break up leaves Y/N heartbroken and feeling awful, and Patrick doesn't like it. He's the only one who should make you feel like shit, and he's determined to prove he can be worse than your boyfriend.

Warnings: Vulgar language, break up, kind of non-con, choking, passing out, dacryphilia, classroom setting, almost fingering, use of "slut."

A/N: My bad guys, I got botox up my bladder so I haven't gotten to my Wips 😭 Here's my apology, please don't burn my house down.

---------------->

“Aiden, please! I didn’t know he’d ask me out, I thought he was just being friendly.” You sobbed, breath raspy and scattered. 

You had met a guy named Donnie in your science class while you were taking a test. He had asked for answers since he was new to the school and didn’t know much, and being the people pleaser you were, you gave them to him. 

He asked for your number after and said that he’d give you the answers to the upcoming math test as a thank you, and you didn’t think anything of it. 

You two started talking, and became friends over the few weeks you knew each other. Of course, nobody ever has kind intentions anymore, and he called you, asking you out on a date while you were making food in your kitchen. Since your boyfriend Aiden went to a different school, the two had never met. And he picked up the phone before you could.

“Does that really fucking matter?” He raised his voice at you and you flinched. He’d never gotten so upset over things like this, so it hurt to hear him yell.

You had a plethora of guy friends; many that he was also friends with. So why was he so angry now?

“You never thought to tell him about me? About us?” Aiden threw his hands on his head and laughed. He was pissed.

“I didn’t think about it, it seemed innocent!” You couldn’t recall the last time you had to defend yourself like this to someone over anything because you were an honest person.

He shook his head and ran his hands down his face, inhaling deeply. “I should’ve known you were gonna cheat on me. Nobody’s that perfect.” 

“Aiden-”

“You’re a slut, Y/N. I should’ve fucking known. We’re done.” He growled, grabbing his jacket off of the counter and aiming towards the door.

“Aiden, please wait.” Tears fell down your face as you tried to reason with him. You loved Aiden, and you didn’t want to see him go. 

“I don’t wanna fucking see you again.” Aiden slammed the door behind him, leaving you to cry in your kitchen.

–

Two days passed, and you were miserable. You cut it off with Donnie, and you hadn’t seen or heard from Aiden since that night. It was lunch and you were at school, eating your meal in an empty classroom, sitting on one of the desks. You’d usually eat with Aiden and talk about anything, but now it was quiet and lonely. 

Holding your sandwich up to your mouth, you were about to take a bite when the door opened.

It was Patrick Hockstetter. The bane of your very existence.

He was such an asshole, and you hated him. He’d grope you, call you names, sometimes even hurt you if you two were alone. You had brought it up to Aiden a couple of times, but he’d always dismiss it, saying he did it to everybody and that you weren’t special.

You never had sex with Aiden, and he never saw you naked, so he also never saw any of the marks Patrick would leave on you. Burn scars from lighters and cigarettes, bruises, cuts, the initials he carved under your belly button. The hickeys.

You never thought it counted as cheating since you never reciprocated anything Patrick would do, and you never told Aiden about it in fear that he’d break up with you for it. But you knew deep, deep down, that you were cheating.

Because a sick, sick, part of you liked it.

Aiden was never rough with you when making out. He treated you like fine China, which you were thankful for. But he never went further, not like Patrick would.

Aiden would kiss you softly, never pressing too hard on your lips. Patrick would make you choke on his tongue and bite your lips, making you bleed every time. 

You hated him, and everything he did. But sometimes you’d look at your scars and remember how awful it felt, and you’d get hot and red in the face.

“Figured your cunt would be in here.” Grinning, he slipped through the crack in the door and closed it, locking it behind him. You shivered, knowing that you weren’t going to leave the classroom without some kind of wound. 

“What do you want?” You croaked out, voice hoarse from crying. You put the sandwich back in your lunch bag and crossed your arms over your chest, regretting the tight white shirt and pastel pink skirt you wore today. 

Patrick snickered at your poor attempt to cover yourself and he turned the lights off, making the only light in the room be from the cracks in the blinds that covered the windows. 

“What do you think I want?” It was only then that you noticed the blood from his nose, and the blood on his hands. Usually you’d never think anything of it, but you were somewhat worried.

Patrick never liked Aiden. He hated how much attention Aiden took from you, and he made sure you knew. He hated how upset you’d get when you remembered a date you two would have to go on, especially right after he’d make you suck him off.

You’d be a complete mess, mascara running down your face, lip gloss smudged, hair sticking up everywhere, drool on your chin, and your clothes would be ruined.

He liked you better when you looked that way and begged him to stop. He made sure to take a picture once, and when he couldn’t see you, he’d jerk off to it.

Patrick loved when you looked ruined, but you always wanted to look put together for Aiden.

“Patrick, what’s on your hands?” You asked shakily, eyes trained to his blood soaked fingers. 

Patrick tutted and started a slow stride to the desk you were on. “You know, Aiden was never a good choice for ya’, toots.”

You crossed your left leg over your right and your skirt rode up your thighs, and Patrick licked his lips.

“I mean, he always controlled what you did. You couldn’t go anywhere without him. And you surely wouldn’t be wearing that skirt if you two were still together.” He stopped in front of you, and put his right hand on your left knee, and his other on your calf.

He uncrossed your legs and stepped between them, removing his hands and placing them on the desk.

Patrick’s eyes never strayed from yours, and you were shaking. 

“What did you do?” You caught your breath and questioned him, fear evident all over your face.

“You never cried for me as much as you did a couple nights ago for him.” Patrick’s face held no emotion, and you had no idea what was happening inside his mind.

It filled you with dread.

“Patrick, please.” His right hand moved from the desk and he placed it up your left thigh, moving it under your skirt. His left hand went around your throat, and his fingers placed themselves skillfully against the sides of your neck.

He squeezed, hard, and slipped his fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear, pulling them back and snapping the elastic back onto your skin.

You yelped, and it took away most of your oxygen. Patrick’s fingers teased down your leg and to the back of your knee, leaving a trail of blood as it went.

You didn’t ask him, but you knew it was Aiden’s. You didn’t want to know what happened to him.

You were hyperventilating now, taking in any air that you could. Patrick would lessen his grip every now and then so you wouldn’t pass out, but then he’d tighten it again. The process repeated until you were wailing, and your hands were clawing at his.

His right hand was resting on your thigh again, and would etch up closer to your groin whenever he’d let go a bit. You were full on sobbing, and you looked perfect to him.

Mascara down your face, red marks on your neck that would surely leave a perfect blue and purple handprint later. You were trembling underneath his touch, and he loved it. 

Aiden could never make you cry like he could, and Patrick carried that pride with him. 

You tried to beg him to stop, but your words were broken and you could barely keep yourself conscious. Black spots dotted your vision, and you kept thrashing against him. 

He had never gone so far when choking you, and he’d usually leave you with some air. But he didn’t now, no matter what you did.

Patrick’s fingers climbed up into your underwear, and he smirked when he saw the fear in your wet, drowning eyes. Two fingers touched your entrance, and he dragged them up and down, pinching at your clit.

You’d never been more terrified as to what Patrick was going to do next, but you never found out. He squeezed your throat much harder, completely blocking your windpipe from getting any form of oxygen. 

The black spots took control of your vision, and you went limp in his hands. Your legs stopped kicking, your hands fell to your sides. Your head lolled back, and your face relaxed. 

Patrick hummed and let go of your neck, letting you fall back on the desk. He made sure your pulse was still beating, and his fingers went into your entrance with no more resistance. 

Aiden could never make you feel anything like he could.

[thesoftestmess]

Thinking about focalors saying furina's humanity is what made her perfect, but sending her on a 500 years long quest where she had to divorce herself from her humanness every single day anew.

Furina having to keep up a show of distance to humanity and having to put herself above her fellow humans, while encouraging Neuvillette, who has never been human, to mingle with them and learn to understand them.

Focalors inviting Neuvillette into the palais and knowing damn well something as strong as Furina's love and care for humans will inevitably rub off on him and there's nothing he could do about it.

Focalors loving and admiring humanity so much that she trusted herself, her human form, enough that not even a mighty ancient dragon could exist for centuries next to Furina's deeply kind and compassionate heart and be immune to it.

It wasn't only time that made Neuvillette unable to declare fontainians guilty after everything. It undoubtedly was also his Lady Furina meeting personally with her citizens, throwing big social banquets on her birthdays and visiting the sick and elderly in their homes.

Caring about the young and the old, remembering their names and bloodlines and their countless life stories.

There's something so special about the theme of humanness between Furina and Neuvillette and how it binds them together not just by fate, but by heart.

There's something special about him spending 500 years by the side of a human unknowingly, and it inevitably turning him into their ally, while Furina has no idea she's making it happen.

Loving humans comes naturally to her and this part of her could never be drowned out, not even by a painfully lonely and straining act of authority and godship.

There's something so heartbroken in Neuvillette's voice when he learns about her sacrifice and really, how could he ever declare humanity guilty for their mere existence when Furina was by his side sacrificing everything and then some for them for four centuries, regardless of how they treated or talked about her?

How could he ever leave her and her people to a doomed fate?

And a part of Furina telling him to get out and mingle with humans feels like she was saying "I know you don't like me much as an archon, but you would've loved me as a human" and she's right.

The moment she drops the act and moves out and goes on her very own healing journey, he falls hard.

Once the heavy presence of fate between them evaporates, he sees her clearly for the first time ever and what he sees is the very best of humanity. One of humanity's kindest and strongest and most determined.

So fragile and exhausted and half-ill from mental torment. Someone who certainly deserves the praises offered to a god, but who wears her human skin so much better.

Wears her heart on her sleeve, just like all her insecurities and flaws.

There's no act, no big secret, no impending doom hanging over their heads now, but she's further from Neuvillette's side than she's ever been and it makes him yearn for her in a way he doesn't know is utterly human.

And she's lying awake with the very same feeling.