#it's late and i shouldn't even be awake

[prothos]

Ok, but Shepard in a Fallout AU where, as a soldier before the bombs fell, she dies and is brought back to life by an Institute-like org -coughcerberuscough- but she's a synth and doesn't even know it.

[ventique18]

IDIA MADE AN AMV TO EXPLAIN HIS PLAN TO YUU AND FRIENDS IU'M FUCKING DYING

HE EVEN HAS A GOD DAMN NARRATION OMFG

"Ahh~ Only good things are happening lately~ As if we're in a dream~"

"Eh. It's actually just a dream tho."

"Hello everyone trapped in this empty world of dreams."

"This is Idia Shroud."

"So today, I will explain the strategy to beat:

"I BUILT A DREAM WORLD USING CHEAT-LEVEL MAGIC AS THE MOST EVIL LAST BOSS MAGE MALLEUS DRACONIA"

"The magical domain that Malleus created is similar to a server running a huge MMORPG."

"That means everyone's dreams are ran individually. Malleus and his clones are keeping an eye on the server."

"In other words, Malleus is the server admin."

"And his clones crack down on users who commit violations like in online games."

"Malleus is the game master who has the authority to manage the entire server."

"HE REALLY IS A DEMON LORD WHO RULES THE WORLD"

"Under his control, we have no chance of winning..."

"HOWEVER..!"

"With the super geek hacker group STYX using ORTHO ATTACK, the server source code has been analyzed."

"So using this, we're building cheating tools [WARNING: DO NOT DO THIS IN ACTUAL GAMES]"

"So using these cheating tools, the administrative rights to my dream can be transferred to me."

"Then I'll lure Malleus into my dream where I can get rid of that god damned invincibility!"

I CAN'T FUCKING TAKE THIS OH MY GOD

"-- Well, it sounds like a perfect strategy but... The truth is there's just a few things about this cheating tool..."

"WHAT IF THE SERVER ADMIN FINDS OUT ABOUT THIS DURING DEVELOPMENT?"

"THEN,"

"GAME OVER."

"BUT BUT BUT--"

"The thing is, even though he's using autonomous clones to monitor each dream, it still shouldn't be easy to control the dreams of 20000 PEOPLE in Sage island."

"If problems turn up everywhere, he'll have to deal with them all!"

"Sooooo..."

"While I'm developing the cheat tool, I want you all to distract Malleus!"

"I want you all to gather party members to defeat the Demon King!"

"Once everyone's awake, I'll send out invitations to my own dream."

"Then I'll lure Malleus into my dream... THEN TURN ON THE CHEAT TOOL! As planned, Malleus' invincibility will disappear,"

"Then everyone will accept the invitation and gather into my dream!"

"THEN EVERYONE BEATS HIM UP"

"Then Malleus will have to take down his magic AND EVERYONE WILL BE FREE!"

"If you liked this 3-minute video, don't forget to leave a like!"

I'M GONNA FUCKING CRY THIS IS INSANE OMFG KASDJLKLDASLMASD

[harrysfolklore]

casual - ln4

summary: you’re in a situationship with lando norris, one that you know is going to break your heart, but you can’t seem to walk away. wc: 11.7k

folkie radio: i was about to scrap this entire fic bc i just didn’t like they way it was turning out but i finished it 😭 i’m still not really confident about it but i hope you enjoy it. disclaimer: this is angsty !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You and Lando. Lando and You. An undefined space, more than friends, less than a relationship. You remember it like it was yesterday, though almost a year has passed.

It started innocently enough. As a data analyst and strategist for McLaren, you often found yourself working late nights, poring over race statistics and performance metrics. Lando would sometimes wander into the office, restless after a day of simulations and meetings.

At first, your interactions were purely professional - discussing tire degradation rates or fuel consumption patterns. But gradually, conversations began to drift, getting more personal and personal.

The shift happened subtly. One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you were both exhausted, sprawled on the office couch analyzing data. Lando's head drooped onto your shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with tension.

"We shouldn't," you murmured, even as you turned to face him.

"Probably not," Lando agreed, his blue eyes flickering to your lips.

The kiss was inevitable, months of built-up attraction finally finding release. And then came another, and another.

When Lando suggested heading back to his place, you found yourself saying yes without hesitation.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment, you could feel the tension in the air. Lando stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Clothes were shed as you made your way to his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs.

The next morning, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, and you blink awake, momentarily disoriented. Lando's sleeping form beside you brings the memories of last night flooding back.

Lando stirs, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Morning," he mumbles, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So... that happened."

You nod, unsure of what to say. "It did."

An awkward silence stretches between you, the weight of the previous night settling in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. You did. You enjoyed it a lot. But you knew the implications of getting close with someone like Lando Norris.

"Look, Iast night was great," finally, Lando speaks. "But my life, my career... it's complicated."

"I understand," you reply, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, "I mean, we're work colleges after all, it's complicated for me too."

"I'm not saying I regret this," he quickly adds, "I just... I can't offer you something else right now."

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. "So what are you offering?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Lando runs a hand through his tousled hair, "But I'd like to keep seeing you, if you're okay with... not defining things?"

And so begins, your undefined journey with Lando Norris. From that moment, your relationship existed in a grey area. At work, you maintained professionalism, but stolen glances, brushed hands and the way your clothes always ended up in his bedroom floor told a different story.

You know it's not ideal, to have a situationship with Lando Norris. Not when you know you could really fall for him and jeopardize your job. But at the same time, you can't walk away.

You love you job so much, and the fact that you're willing to shut the rest of the world away in order to focus on what you needed to do proved it.

As the Japanese Grand Prix weekend unfolded, you found yourself buried in work. The Suzuka circuit always presented challenges, and you were determined to give the team every advantage possible.

You were so engrossed in your data analysis that you barely noticed Lando enter the temporary office setup. His hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"Christ, Lando! You scared me," you exclaimed, pulling off your headphones.

He grinned, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand and gently pulling you up.

"Lando, I'm in the middle of-"

"It can wait," he insisted, leading you out of the office and towards his driver's room.

Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I miss you," he said simply.

You felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since you'd had any real time alone together. "I've been busy," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

"Busy doing what?" Lando raised an eyebrow.

"Coming up with strategies so you can win races, actually," you retorted, a hint of challenge in your voice.

"Oh really? And how's that going?" he stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, if you'd stop distracting me," you tilted your chin up defiantly, "Maybe I could finish and you'd find out."

Lando chuckled, closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. "Maybe I like distracting you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You shivered involuntarily. "Lando..." you warned, but there was no real resistance in your voice.

"Tell me about these strategies," he said, his lips now trailing along your jawline. "How are you planning to make me faster?"

You struggled to maintain your train of thought as his touch sent sparks through your body. "Well," you managed, "I've been analyzing your cornering speeds and-"

Lando cut you off with a kiss, deep and passionate. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. "You were saying?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Before he can even reply, you drag him for another kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, your hands slid under his team shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his back.

When you broke apart, Lando's eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought I was the one who distracted you. Seems like you're just as needy as I am," he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't flatter yourself, Norris," you felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but matched his playful tone, "I'm just... thorough in my research."

Lando's laugh was warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We're not calling it a relationship, aren't we?" you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lando's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But quickly, his trademark grin returned.

"Well, we're not calling it a relationship," he said, his tone light and teasing, "maybe we should call it a 'performance enhancement program'. You know, for the sake of the team."

You couldn't help but laugh, even as you felt a twinge in your chest at the casual deflection of the relationship topic. "Oh, is that what this is? And here I thought I was just your favorite data analyst."

"Oh, you definitely are," Lando murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "The very best at... analyzing my data."

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo but smiled despite yourself. "As tempting as it is to continue this 'program'," you said, gently pushing him back, "I really do need to get back to work. Those race strategies won't write themselves, you know."

"Fine, fine. Go make me faster on paper. But don't forget, I might need some hands-on analysis later."

"We'll see about that, hotshot," you replied, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. "Focus on your qualifying first."

It's late, well past midnight, when your phone buzzes with a text. You're still up, reviewing data from the day's practice sessions. The message is from Lando, of course.

"Room 507. Now. Please?"

You can't help but smile, imagining the impatience and desire behind those words. You type back:

"Demanding, aren't we? What if I'm busy?"

His reply comes quickly: "Busy with what? I know you're probably still working. Take a break. You deserve it.”

You laugh softly. "I deserve it, huh? Well, when you put it that way..."

"So you're coming?"

You pause, pretending to consider it, even though you both know you're already reaching for your room key. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"There's my girl"

You slip out of your room, heart racing with anticipation. You've done this countless of times before, sneaking out of your hotel room to end up naked in Lando's, but you still felt like a teenage girl every single time.

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. You're so focused on reaching Lando's room that you almost collide with someone rounding the corner.

"Whoa, sorry!" You step back, then freeze as you realize it's Oscar, who looks equally surprised.

"Oh, hey. Bit late for a walk, isn't it?"

Your mind races, searching for a plausible excuse. "I, uh... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd grab some ice."

"Ice?" Oscar's brow furrows slightly, "At this hour?"

"Yeah, you know... for my water," you say lamely, cringing at how unconvincing you sound. "Helps me... think better. For work."

"Right," Oscar says slowly, clearly not buying it but too polite to press further. "Well, don't let me keep you from your... ice-enhanced thinking."

You force a laugh. "Thanks. Goodnight, Oscar."

As you hurry past him, you can feel his curious gaze on your back. You silently pray he doesn't mention this encounter to anyone else on the team.

One of the main reasons why you agreed to mess around with Lando without a label was exactly that, the fear of putting your job at risk. You worked hard for it, and you would never forgive yourself if you lost it due to getting in a relationship with one of the drivers.

Which lead you to getting in a goddamn situationship.

Finally reaching room 507, you knock softly. Lando opens the door almost immediately, pulling you inside with a grin.

"Took you long enough," he teases, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Yeah, well, I just had to convince your teammate that I'm wandering the halls at 1 AM in search of ice. So thanks for that," you retort, but there's no real annoyance in your voice.

"You ran into Oscar?" Lando's eyes widen, "What did you tell him?"

"That I needed ice. For thinking."

"Ice for thinking?" he bursts out laughing. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, you try coming up with a believable excuse on the spot!" you protest, swatting his arm playfully.

"Fair enough," Lando concedes, still chuckling. "Now, where were we? I believe you were going to help me with some... performance analysis?"

As Lando leans in, your lips meet in a passionate kiss. The tension that's been building all day finally releases as you melt into his embrace. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Oh really?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be focusing on your lap times."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lando's lips find your neck, trailing kisses along your jawline. You tilt your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Your hands slide under his t-shirt, tracing his sides.

He guides you towards the bed, your bodies pressed close together. As the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, pulling Lando with you. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his eyes roaming your face.

You reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, filled with unspoken emotions.

As things heat up, clothes start to come off. Lando's shirt is the first to go, followed quickly by yours. Skin meets skin, and the world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other's touch.

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. You can't help but think that this undefined thing with Lando is getting more complicated by the day but you decide that's a problem for future you to worry about.

After an exhausting triple header across three different countries, you finally have a well-deserved two-week break.

The past few races have been grueling, with long nights analyzing data and strategizing for each track. While you love your job, the intense schedule has left you drained. Now back home, you decide it's time to unwind and have some fun with your friends.

It's Friday evening, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out. Usually, you’d spend your Friday with Lando, but this time you were dying for a chance to let loose, dance with your friends and forget about work for a while. 

And maybe, forget about your little situationship, too.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say. Because as if on cue your phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. Lando's name flashes on the screen.

You answer, propping the phone up on your dresser. "Hey, Lan," you greet him while still doing your makeup.

"Hey, you," he replies, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, you look hot. Are you going somewhere?"

You nod, turning back to the mirror to continue applying your eyeshadow. "Yep, heading out tonight. It's been ages since I've had a proper night out."

"Oh," Lando says, his tone curious. "Like, out out? Are you... um, going on a date or something?"

You can't help but smirk a little at his barely concealed interest. "Why, Lando Norris, are you fishing for information?" you tease. "I mean, I could be going on a date. We're not exclusive, after all."

Lando's expression falters for a moment before he catches himself, forcing a casual laugh. "No, no, of course not. I was just, you know, curious. Making conversation and all that."

You watch him in the phone screen, noticing how he's trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His jaw is tense, and he's fidgeting more than usual.

Taking pity on him, you decide to put him out of his misery. "Relax, Lando. It's just girls' night. After that triple header, I need to blow off some steam with my friends."

"Oh, right. Cool, cool," the relief on his face is palpable, "That sounds fun."

"Were you jealous, Norris?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Jealous? Nah," he scoffs, but the slight blush creeping up his neck betrays him. "I mean, like you said, we're not... you know."

"Exclusive," you finish for him, feeling a familiar twinge in your chest at the word.

"Right," Lando nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Anyway, I hope you have a great time tonight. You deserve it after all the hard work these past few weeks."

"Thanks, Lan. I plan to."

"Call me if you need me to pick you up," Lando assures, making you smile softly. Maybe he actually cares about you, you think.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Just as Lando was expecting, you call him around 2 AM, asking if he could come pick you up from the club.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s getting up, putting a hoodie on and grabbing his keys to leave the house.

His car pulls up outside the club about 15 minutes later. You make your way to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat with a giggle.

"Thanks for coming," you say, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Of course, love,” Lando looks you over, a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had fun tonight."

“I did, but I missed you,” you say as he starts driving, you’re not sure if he’ll take you to your place or his, but you don’t want to sleep without him, "Oh! I have to tell you something,"

"Well do tell," he encourages, glancing at you with interest.

"There was this guy at the club," you begin, noticing how Lando's eyebrow quirks up. "He was really handsome, and he was flirting with me."

"Was he now?" Lando asks, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else.

"Yup," you say, popping the 'p' sound. "I pushed him away. Because even though you might not be my boyfriend, I only want you. No one else."

Lando's lips curl into a pleased smile. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was just your favorite Uber driver."

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Then, feeling bold, you place your hand on his thigh. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Lando doesn't even flinch. Instead, he shoots you a mischievous look. "Just like that? Usually, I at least buy you dinner first."

You groan, moving your hand from his thigh but he quickly catches it and kisses your palm before resting it there again, “Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

As you arrive home, Lando helps you inside, his arm steady around your waist. You stumble a bit, giggling as you lean into him.

"Careful there," he says, "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

He guides you to the kitchen, one hand on the small of your back. You hop onto a barstool, watching as he moves around your kitchen with surprising familiarity.

"Let's get some water in you," he says, filling a large glass. "And maybe some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. "Um... before we went out? I think?"

Lando shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. "No wonder you're in this state. Drink this," he hands you the water, "and I'll make you a sandwich."

You sip the water obediently, watching him as he rummages through your fridge. "You don't have to do all this, you know," you say softly.

"I want to," he looks up at you, his eyes soft. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

As you finish your water, he slides a plate with a sandwich in front of you. "Eat up, pretty girl. It'll help sober you up."

You take a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. As you eat, Lando leans against the counter, watching you with amusement and something else you can't quite name.

"So," he says casually, "tell me about this handsome guy at the club."

You swallow your bite, looking up at him. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Just curious," he shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. "You said you pushed him away?"

You nod, setting down the sandwich. "I did. He was nice, but... he wasn't you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's eyes sparkle, but he doesn't say anything.

You slide off the barstool and step closer to him. Your hands find his chest and you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

But then Lando pulls away gently, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's go to sleep, pretty girl," he says, his voice low and a bit rough. "You need rest."

You pout, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "But I want you," you whisper, leaning in so your lips are inches from his.

"And you can have me," he says softly, cupping your face with one hand. "But right now we're going to sleep."

You start to protest, but he silences you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

As he leads you to the bedroom, Lando's mind is in turmoil. He's acutely aware of the growing feelings he has for you - feelings that go far beyond the casual arrangement you've had so far. The way his heart races when you're near, the constant urge to make you smile, the fierce protectiveness he feels - it all points to something deeper, that both thrills and terrifies him.

But with these feelings comes a familiar fear. Commitment has always been hard for him. The demands of his career, the pressure of the public eye, the fear of letting someone down - they all contribute to his hesitation. And yet, as he looks at you now, soft and vulnerable in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you might be worth the risk.

In the bedroom, he helps you change into comfortable sleepwear. As you both lay down, you curl into his side, your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing, and you feel yourself starting to drift off.

"Lando?" you ask, your voice sleepy.

"Hmm?" His hand is running through your hair, the gesture comforting.

"Do you push away the beautiful girls that come up to flirt with you? Like I did tonight?"

You feel his chest rise with a deep breath. There's a pause before he answers, "I do," he says softly. "There's only one girl I'm interested in."

You lift your head slightly, trying to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Really? Who's that?"

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I think you know, pretty girl."

You're fighting sleep now, but you're determined to get an answer. "Well, I don't believe you," you mumble, the words slurring together. "Prove it."

Lando opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes you're already asleep, your breathing evening out. He looks down at you, a fond smile on his face. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers, "Maybe I'll show you soon."

The Hungarian Grand Prix has just concluded, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage is torn between elation and tension.

Oscar has claimed his first Formula 1 victory, a monumental achievement for him and the team. However, the circumstances of his win have left a bitter taste in Lando's mouth, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of pure celebration for everyone.

You're standing off to the side, your mind racing. The strategy call wasn't yours directly, but as part of the team, you can't help feeling partly responsible for the decision that affected both drivers.

As Lando storms into the garage, his face like thunder, you brace yourself for the fallout. His usual easy-going demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a storm of anger and disappointment. You've seen Lando upset before, but this felt different.

"Lando," you start, reaching out to him, your voice soft and tentative.

"Save it," he snaps, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he brushes past you. The coldness in his voice makes you flinch. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone."

For the rest of the day, Lando avoids you like the plague. You take separate flights home so you don't really see him or hear from him after you left the circuit.

Over the next few days, you try reaching out via text, each message more desperate than the last. But they go unanswered, each 'read' receipt another twist of the knife. This isn't like Lando, to shut everyone out so completely. You can't help but wonder if this is about more than just the race.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go to his place. It's a risky move, you know, but the thought of leaving things like this is unbearable. Using the spare key he gave you months ago - a gesture that had felt so significant at the time - you let yourself in.

The apartment is quiet, but not empty. You can feel his presence, sense the tension in the air.

"Lando?" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the silent space.

You hear movement from his bedroom, and soon enough he emerges, dressed to go out, and freezes when he sees you. His expression hardens, the warmth you're used to seeing in his eyes replaced by a cold, distant look. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Lando," you say, your voice firm despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "You can't just shut me out like this. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"I don't have time for this right now," Lando's jaw clenches, his gaze darting away from yours, "I'm heading out."

"Of course you are," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. "Because going out and partying is so much easier than facing your problems, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger igniting, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're running away," you say, taking a step closer. "From the race, from the team, from me. We're all just trying to do our best, Lando. The team made a call, and it worked out for the best. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it wasn't the best for me!" Lando explodes, his composure finally cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To have victory in your grasp and then have it taken away? To be told that you're not good enough, that your teammate is the better choice?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it," you argue back, your own frustration bubbling over. "It was a strategic decision, not a judgment on your abilities. You're letting your ego cloud your judgment."

"My ego?" Lando's laugh is harsh and humorless, "That's rich, coming from someone who's never had to make these kinds of sacrifices."

The words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You's never had an argument like this before.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "Go out if that's what you want. But don't call me when you're feeling lonely later tonight. I'm not just some convenient comfort for when you decide you need me."

Something flashes in Lando's eyes – hurt, perhaps, or regret. But it's quickly replaced by a hardness that makes your heart ache.

"Don't worry," he retorts, his voice cold. "I can always find another girl to keep me company. I don't need you for that."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take an involuntary step back. The undefined nature of your relationship, once thrilling in its potential, now feels like a weapon being used against you.

"Is that what this is to you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just a convenient arrangement? Someone to warm your bed when you can't find anyone else?"

Lando's expression softens for a moment, regret flickering across his features. But he doesn't take back his words. Instead, he turns away, his hand on the front door.

"You know your way out." And with that, he's out of the door.

A week later, Formula 1 has moved to the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. The air is thick with anticipation - not just for the upcoming race, but for the looming summer break that follows.

You've thrown yourself into your work, burying your emotions under a mountain of data analysis and strategy planning. The tension between you and Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the team, but thankfully, everyone's too focused on the upcoming race to pry.

You haven't spoke to Lando after your argument at his place, and you blocked his number, leaving him unable to contact you.

As you make your way through the paddock, your arms full of printouts and your mind racing with tire degradation calculations, you spot a familiar figure approaching. Lando, clad in his McLaren team shirt, is walking purposefully in your direction. Your heart rate spikes, and you quickly duck into a nearby hospitality area, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a group of engineers.

This dance continues throughout the day. Lando tries to catch your eye during the team briefing, but you keep your gaze fixed on your tablet. He lingers near your station in the garage, but you find urgent errands that take you elsewhere. It's exhausting, this game of cat and mouse, but you're not ready to face him - not yet.

As the day winds down, you're making your final rounds, double-checking that everything is set for tomorrow's practice sessions. The paddock is quieter now, most team members having retired for the evening.

You're so focused on your checklist that you don't notice the approaching footsteps until it's too late.

"We need to talk," Lando's voice, firm and tinged with frustration, breaks the silence.

You spin around and Lando stands before you, his blue eyes intense and determined. He's changed out of his team shirt into a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he's been running his hands through it.

"Lando, I-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, don't give me another excuse," he says, stepping closer. "We've been dancing around each other all day. Enough is enough."

Before you can protest, he gently but firmly takes your arm and starts guiding you towards the McLaren motorhome. You could resist, but something in his tone, a note of desperation perhaps, makes you comply.

The motorhome is quiet and dimly lit as Lando leads you inside and up to the second level where the drivers have their private areas. He ushers you into his room, closing the door behind you.

The space is unmistakably Lando's - a gaming setup in one corner, a few personal photos tacked to a board, his race suit hanging neatly on a hook. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before turning to face you.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, the words tumbling from his lips as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say them immediately. "I'm so sorry for how I acted, for what I said. It was awful, and you didn't deserve any of it."

You stand there, arms crossed, trying to maintain your composure even as a lot of emotions overwhelm you. "You were an asshole, Lando," you say quietly.

"I know," he nods, "I was angry and frustrated, but that's no excuse. I took it out on you when you were just trying to help." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I've been miserable this past week. I missed you so much, and the thought that I might have ruined everything between us… it's been killing me."

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel your resolve weakening. You're weak when it comes to him, and you're pretty sure he knows it.

"I missed you too," you admit softly. "But Lando, we can't keep doing this. We can't just pretend everything's fine and then lash out at each other when things get tough."

"I know, I know," Lando nods eagerly. "I want to do better. I want to be better," he pauses for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. "And I didn't go home with anyone that night, by the way,"

You furrow your brow, momentarily confused by the seemingly random statement. Then, like a flash, you remember his cruel words from that night in his house.

As you laid in bed the night of the argument, you couldn't help but wonder if Lando had gone home with someone else, and if that was how it worked when you were not there.

And it hurt more that you ever thought possible.

"Oh," you respond, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark. "That's… I mean, you didn't have to tell me that. It's not like we're…"

You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What are you, exactly?

Lando takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense as they lock with yours. "I know I don't have to tell you," he says, his voice low and earnest. "But I want you to know. I only want you to keep me company, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But almost immediately, a more cynical part of your mind chimes in. He wants you, but he doesn't want to be in a relationship with you. He wants the comfort, the intimacy, but not the commitment.

"Lando, I…" you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You want to ask for clarification, to define what this is between you, but fear holds you back.

Lando seems to sense your inner turmoil. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I know I messed up," he says softly. "And I know things between us are… complicated. But I mean what I said. You're the only one I want."

You look down at your joined hands, then back up at Lando's face. Despite despite the voice in your head warning you to be careful, you feel yourself giving in. The pull is too strong, the desire to be with him overpowering your rational mind.

"Okay," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Lando's face breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes lighting up. He pulls you into another embrace, holding you close. You allow yourself to sink into his warmth, pushing your doubts to the back of your mind for now.

When you finally pull apart, Lando's expression is soft, almost reverent. "Are we good?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You take a deep breath, considering the question. Are you good? There's still so much left unsaid, so many questions unanswered. But looking at Lando, feeling the comfort of his presence, you can't bring yourself to disrupt this moment of peace between you.

"Yes," you say, managing a small smile. "We're good."

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Lando's Monaco apartment. You stir slowly, consciousness creeping in as you become aware of the warm body next to you. Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Lando's peaceful sleeping face, his features relaxed and vulnerable in a way they rarely are when he's awake.

It's been two weeks since your conversation in the motorhome at Spa, and true to form, you and Lando had fallen back into your familiar rhythm without missing a beat. The race weekend had gone well, with both McLarens finishing in the points, and you'd flown to Monaco with Lando for the first part of the summer break without a second thought.

As you watch Lando sleep, you can't help but feel that being here with him feels right in a way that's hard to describe. You know that this thing between you, whatever it is, is a ticking time bomb if you don't define it soon. But every time you think about approaching the subject, fear holds you back.

So you've chosen to ignore it, to live in this blissful bubble for as long as you can. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, after the summer break, after the next race, after the season ends. There's always a reason to put it off.

Lando begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze focuses on you, a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply softly, unable to help the smile that mirrors his.

Lando reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but quickly deepens as he pulls you closer. His other hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sigh into the kiss, your own hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest and back.

As things start to heat up, Lando rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. His lips leave yours to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Just as things are about to progress further, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

"Ignore it," Lando whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again.

You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment before another, more insistent knock breaks through. Lando groans in frustration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I should probably see who that is," he sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

You watch as he gets out of bed, admiring the view as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before heading downstairs.

Curious about who could be visiting so early, you decide to follow after a few minutes. You grab Lando's discarded t-shirt from the night before, pulling it on. It falls to mid-thigh, long enough to be decent for a quick peek downstairs.

As you descend the stairs, you hear familiar voices from the entryway. Your heart drops as you recognize the second voice - it's Max Verstappen. Panic sets in as you realize the compromising position you're in, but it's too late. You've already rounded the corner, coming face to face with both drivers.

For a moment, everything freezes. You stand there, a deer caught in headlights, wearing nothing but Lando's shirt. Max's eyes widen in surprise, darting between you and Lando. Lando looks equally shocked, clearly not expecting you to come downstairs.

Mortified, you turn on your heel and bolt back upstairs, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. As you retreat, you hear Max's voice, tinged with amusement and surprise.

"Dude, isn't that one of your strategists?"

You don't hear Lando's response as you shut the bedroom door behind you. This is exactly the kind of situation you'd been afraid of, the reason why leaving things undefined was so dangerous.

Downstairs, the conversation continues.

"Yeah, she is," Lando admits, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Wow, okay," Max lets out a low whistle, "So… how long has this been going on? Please tell me it's recent and not, like, during the season or something."

Lando hesitates for a moment before answering. "It's… been a while actually. Over a year."

"A YEAR?!" Max exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. "Lando, mate, are you serious? You've been hooking up with a team member for over a year and nobody knew?"

"It's not just hooking up," Lando defends, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's… complicated."

"Complicated?" Max raises an eyebrow, "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Does the team know?"

"No," Lando shakes his head, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It's not affecting our work, so no one needs to know."

"Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys," Max holds up his hands in surrender, "But seriously, Lando, be careful. This kind of thing can blow up in your face if you're not careful."

They exchange a few more words before Max takes his leave, reminding Lando about their plans for later in the week. As soon as the door closes behind Max, Lando bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He finds you in the bedroom, already dressed in own clothes. You're pacing nervously, chewing on your bottom lip - a habit he knows you fall into when you're anxious.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching you cautiously. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Max to show up unannounced."

You stop pacing, turning to face him. "It's fine," you say, but your voice is tight. "I should go."

"What? No, please don't go," Lando's face falls, "Max won't say anything, I promise. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he can keep a secret."

"I'll just have a walk around the harbor, I'll be back," you say as you grab your phone from the nightstand.

"But why?" Lando asks, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Is this because Max saw you? I swear, it's not a big deal."

"I'll meet you for lunch, okay? you say softly, avoiding Lando's gaze.

"Okay," he replies simply, not pushing for more.

Without further conversation, you gather your belongings and head for the door. Feeling more conflicted than ever before.

After Max caught you together in Monaco, you stayed a few more days with Lando before reluctantly going back home, and he took on a trip with his family. You don't really see him for the rest of the summer break, until he showed up at your place two weeks before it was time to get back to work.

"So," Lando says as you laid in bed, "ready to go back to being all professional and proper soon, Ms. Strategist?"

"Oh, I'm always professional, Norris. It's you who can't keep your eyes off me during briefings."

"Me? Lando gasps in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm the picture of focus and concentration."

"Sure," you drawl, "That's why you kept 'accidentally' brushing against me in the garage."

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Can you blame me? You're irresistible when you're talking about tire strategies."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity. "Smooth talker. Is that how you charm all the girls?"

"Nah," he grins, pulling you back towards him. "Just the brilliant, beautiful ones who can calculate pit stop windows in their sleep."

Your breath catches as he nuzzles your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. For a moment, you consider bringing up the conversation you've been avoiding all summer. "Lando," you murmur, "we should probably talk about-"

He silences you with a kiss, deep and passionate. "Or," he says, his eyes dark with desire, "we could make the most of our night."

You know you should resist, that you should have that conversation you've been avoiding. But as Lando's hands start to wander, you find your resolve weakening, as always.

You don't really hear from Lando after that night. He says goodbye after breakfast the following day, and then it's radio silence.

You try not to think too much of it, the break is coming to an end and he has responsibilities and work to go, it's not personal, you try to convince yourself.

But your mind can't help but wander. Is he with someone else? Is he avoiding you? Did you make him upset and you failed to notice?

But you don't dare to bring it up to him. He's not your boyfriend, after all.

The transition back to work after the summer break is jarring. The McLaren Technology Centre buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for the upcoming race. You're immediately swept up in meetings, data analysis, and strategy sessions. Despite working in the same building, you and Lando barely cross paths for days. The few times you do see him from afar, he's always surrounded by engineers or caught up in simulator work.

Finally, the team arrives at Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the paddock envelops you as you make your way to the McLaren garage, your arms full of strategy documents and your mind racing with last-minute considerations for the race.

As you approach, you spot Lando and Oscar chatting animatedly near the entrance. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of Lando, and you can't help but smile. You've missed him more than you care to admit.

"Morning, boys," you call out, aiming for a casual tone as you near them.

They both turn, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Hey there, stranger," Lando says, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief that never fails to make your stomach flutter.

Oscar, ever the gentleman, moves to take some of the papers from your arms. "Let me help you with those. How was your break?"

You smile gratefully, handing him a stack of documents. "Thanks, Oscar. It was lovely, very relaxing. How about yours?"

As Oscar launches into a story about his time back home in Australia and his trip with his girlfriend, you can't help but steal glances at Lando.

He looks good - tanned and relaxed, with a hint of stubble that you know from experience feels delightfully rough against your skin. You quickly push that thought aside, reminding yourself of where you are.

"Oh, that reminds me," Oscar says suddenly, turning to Lando with a sly grin. "How did that lunch go the other day? With Emma?"

You feel your body tense involuntarily. Lunch? Emma? Who's Emma?

Lando's eyes widen slightly, and he shoots a quick glance your way before looking back at Oscar. "Oh, uh, it was fine. Just a casual thing, you know."

But Oscar, oblivious to the sudden tension, presses on. "Come on, mate, don't be modest. Emma told Lily it went really well. Said you two really hit it off."

You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The documents in your arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. "It wasn't… I mean, it was just lunch, Oscar. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm just saying," Oscar continues, still grinning, "she seems really into you. Might be worth giving it a shot, yeah? It's about time you settled down with someone nice."

You can't bear to hear any more. "I should get these to the engineers," you mutter, already turning away. "See you guys later."

As you walk away, you hear Lando call out your name, but you don't stop. You can't stop. If you stop, you might fall apart right there in the middle of the paddock.

You make it to the back of the garage before you hear rapid footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait up," Lando's voice comes from behind you, slightly out of breath.

You turn slowly, trying to school your features into a neutral expression. "What is it, Lando? I'm kind of busy."

He looks at you, his eyes searching your face. "About what Oscar said… it's not what you think."

"What do I think, Lando?" you raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "We never defined what this is, remember? You're free to have lunch with whoever you want."

"It was just a favor for Oscar," Lando steps closer, lowering his voice. "His girlfriend's friend is new in town, and they asked if I'd show her around. That's all it was, I swear."

You want to believe him. God, how you want to believe him. But the memory of those blissful days during the summer break, followed by days of silence and now this… it's too much.

"Look, Lando," you say, hating how your voice wavers slightly, "we both knew this couldn't last. We have jobs to do, careers to think about. Maybe… maybe this is for the best."

"What? No, that's not…" Lando starts, reaching for your arm, but you step back.

"I really need to get these to the engineers," you say, gesturing with the documents still clutched to your chest like a shield. "We should both focus on the race this weekend. That's what we're here for, right?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, your vision blurring slightly as you blink back tears. You can feel Lando's gaze boring into your back, but you don't turn around. You can't.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the main garage, you lean against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose yourself. The rational part of your brain knows you're overreacting, that you should hear Lando out. But the emotional part, the part that's been dreading this moment since this situationship began, is in full fight or flight mode.

With one final deep breath, you push off the wall and head towards the engineering room, burying your personal turmoil beneath layers of race strategy and tire calculations. Lando Norris was consuming every part of you.

The tension between you and Lando remains palpable throughout the race weekend. You both maintain focused on your jobs, but there's a hint that something is not right with you.

The truth is, your situation with Lando has been consuming you for weeks now. What started as a casual arrangement has grown into something much deeper, at least for you.

The more time you spend with Lando, the harder you fall for him. And it's terrifying. Being casual isn't enough anymore; it hasn't been for a while. You've reached a point where you don't think you can continue this way. The pain of loving him in secret, of always being on the edge of something more but never quite reaching it, is becoming unbearable. You need clarity, commitment - or you need to walk away before you lose yourself completely.

To make matters more complicated, Lando wins the race at Zandvoort, securing his second victory of the season—one he had been craving since Miami. Your heart breaks even more as you realize you can't even celebrate this moment with him properly. Watching him on the podium, champagne in hand and pure joy radiating from his face, you feel like crying right there.

You want to run to him, throw yourself into his arms and celebrate with him, tell him how proud you feel and how much he deserves this. But you can't, not until whatever is going on between you gets sorted out.

It's not until after the race, when the celebrations cool down and the team begins to pack up, that Lando finally corners you in a quiet moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. "Please?"

You hesitate, glancing around the garage. Most of the team is busy with post-race duties, paying you no attention. With a sigh, you nod and follow Lando to a more secluded area behind the motorhome.

"First of all, congratulations on the win. You really deserve it," you say as soon as you're alone, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lando gives you a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, but that's not what occupies my mind right now," he replies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, "I don't understand what happened back there. Why won't you believe me about Oscar's friend?"

You cross your arms, a defensive posture you're all too aware of. "It's not just about her, Lando. It's… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"I mean this whole situation," you take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts, "I thought I could handle it, but…"

"But what?" Lando steps closer, his voice softening, "Talk to me, please."

"But it's getting harder," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I see you with someone else, every time we have to pretend there's nothing between us, it hurts a little more."

Lando reaches for your hand, and this time you don't pull away. "You're the only one I want," he says earnestly. "You have to know that."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "You always say that, Lando. But you still won't fully commit to me. It's hard to believe it when you won't put a label on us, when you go out with other women-"

"That wasn't a date," Lando interrupts, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I told you, it was just a favor for Oscar."

"I know, I know," you say, pulling your hand away and running it through your hair. "But that's not the point. The point is, I don't know where I stand with you. We've been doing this dance for over a year now, and I still don't know what we are to each other."

"I thought you were okay with this. With us staying without a label. You agreed to keep things casual."

"I was okay with it," you turn away, blinking back tears. "But it's not enough anymore. At least, not for me."

There's a long moment of silence. When you turn back, Lando is staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What are you saying?" he asks finally, his voice small.

"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore, Lando," you say firmly, "I want more. I need more."

"We agreed it was too complicted," Lando looks up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, "That we couldn't be in a relationship."

"I know what we agreed," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "But feelings change. People change. I've changed, Lando. And I can't keep putting my heart on hold for a someday that might never come."

Lando steps forward, reaching for you again. "Please, don't do this. We can figure it out. I'll try to be more open about us. We can tell our friends."

You shake your head, cutting him off. "It's not just about telling people, Lando. It's about commitment. It's about knowing that when I go home at night, I'm not just someone in your bed. It's about building a future together, not just living for the moment."

"I don't know if I can give you that. Not right now," Lando's face falls. "My career is at a great point, and-"

"And mine isn't?" you interrupt, a flash of anger cutting through your sadness. "Do you think I'm not risking just as much as you are? If not more? But I'm willing to take that risk because what we have… what we could have… it's worth it to me."

You watch as emotions play across Lando's face - confusion, fear, longing. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to lose you."

Your heart aches, but you stand your ground. "Then give me a reason to stay, Lando. Show me that I'm more than just a convenient distraction between races."

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Really think about what you want. Because I can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to either of us."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Lando standing alone behind the motorhome. As you make your way back to the garage, you can feel the weight of unshed tears burning behind your eyes. But you don't let them fall. Not here, not now.

You've laid your cards on the table. Now it's up to Lando to decide what he's willing to do with them.

The Monza race weekend flies by in a whirlwind of noise and action. You keep yourself busy, diving deep into numbers and race plans to avoid thinking about your feelings. It's easier to focus on tire strategies and pit stop timings than to deal with the ache in your chest every time you see Lando.

When you do have to talk to Lando, you both act normal and professional. But there's a tension in the air between you, like a tight rubber band ready to snap. You catch others giving you worried looks sometimes, and it makes you feel even more on edge.

Lando has not given you any kind of response to your talk in Zandvoort, and it's been just a week, but you feel like you know his answer. He's not willing to give you what you ask for. And it hurts, more than you can say.

As Sunday night gets closer, whispers of Carlos Sainz's birthday celebration begin to circulate through the paddock. You know Lando will definitely go - he and Carlos are really close friends. A small part of you wishes you could go too. You imagine laughing with your coworkers, having a drink, and forgetting about all the drama for a while.

But then you think about seeing Lando there. You picture having to smile and act like everything's fine when it's not. The thought of making awkward small talk with him, or worse, seeing him chatting happily with someone else, makes your stomach churn. It feels like too much to handle right now.

In the end, the thought of facing Lando and all those people is just too much. You decide to skip the party, even though a part of you feels guilty and a bit left out. But the relief you feel at making this decision tells you it's the right choice for now.

As the sun begins to set after the race and everyone gets ready for the party, you retreat to your hotel room. You order room service – a plate of pasta that you barely touch – and settle in for a quiet evening alone. You try to lose yourself in a book, but the words blur on the page, your mind constantly wandering to thoughts of Lando. Is he at the party now? Is he having fun? Is he thinking of you at all?

Meanwhile, at Carlos' birthday celebration, Lando finds himself struggling to enjoy the party. He mingles half-heartedly, his laugh a beat too late, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He can't help but scan the room periodically, hoping against hope that you might have changed your mind and decided to come.

Max, observant as ever and knowing his friend too well, notices Lando's distraction and pulls him aside.

"You alright, mate?" Max asks, "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Lando considers brushing it off, but the weight of the past week suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's about her," he admits quietly.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'her' is. By now he knows the situation his friend is caught up in, "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"More like paradise lost," Lando lets out a humorless laugh, "I think I really messed up, Max. I was so worried about keeping things casual, about not complicating our working relationship, that I didn't realize how fucked up the whole thing was."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks.

Lando looks around the room, at the laughing faces and clinking glasses, and suddenly feels very out of place. "I don't know. I just know I can't be here right now. Not when things are like this between us."

"Then go," he says simply. "Go find her. Talk to her. Life's too short for regrets, especially in our line of work."

Lando looks at Max, a hint of his usual playful smile returning despite the situation. "When did you become so wise, Verstappen? Did all those championship trophies finally knock some sense into you?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason around here," Max rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face, "Now go on, get out of here before Carlos finds you and makes you stay, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Max. I owe you one," Lando chuckles, patting his back.

"You owe me several, but who's counting?" Max grins, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lando slips out of the party. His heart pounds as he makes his way to your hotel, not even sure if you would want to talk to him.

When he's finally standing in front of you door, he knocks softly, hope and fear warring in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

You're curled up on the bed, still trying and failing to focus on your book, when you hear the knock. Confused, you glance at the clock - it's barely past 10 PM. The party should still be in full swing. Who could be at your door?

As you pad over to the door and peer through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat. It's Lando, looking slightly disheveled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You hesitate, your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms. But another part, the part that's been hurt and confused for the past week, holds you back.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the emotions inside you.

"Lando?" you say, trying to sound calm even though your heart is racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at Carlos' party."

Lando looks a bit messy, like he rushed over. He shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. "I was," he says. "But I couldn't stay. Not when you weren't there."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. You're trying to protect yourself, even though you want to believe him. "You left your best friend's birthday party early because of me?"

Lando nods, looking right at you. His eyes are so intense it makes your heart beat even faster. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

You hesitate for a moment. You're scared of getting hurt again, but you also really want to hear what he has to say, even if it breaks your heart. Finally, you step back and let him in.

As he passes by, you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the paddock - a combination that's uniquely Lando and achingly familiar.

Lando walks into the room, running a hand through his hair. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week," he begins, turning to face you. "About us."

Your heart starts to race, but you force yourself to remain calm. "And?" you prompt, when he doesn't continue.

"And you were right. About everything," Lando takes a deep breath, "I've been so focused on not complicating things, that I didn't realize how much I was hurting you.”

"Lando, I-"

"Please, let me finish," Lando interrupts you softly, "The truth is, I've been scared. Terrified, actually. Of commitment, of letting someone in completely, of potentially damaging our careers if things went wrong. But this past week without you… it's been hell", he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've dated before, had relationships, but nothing has ever felt like this. What we have… it's different. Special. And I've been an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Your breath catches in your throat as Lando continues, his words coming faster now, as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't get them all out. "I kept telling myself that keeping things casual was the smart thing to do. That it was protecting both of us. But all I've done is push you away and make you doubt how much you mean to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've seen him do countless times when he's nervous or frustrated. "The truth is, I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When something goes wrong, you're the one I want to turn to. And it scares the hell out of me because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure Lando must be able to hear it. You want to speak, to tell him how much his words mean to you, but you can see he's not finished yet.

"I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you by not being clear about my feelings, by not giving you the commitment you deserve. And I'm so, so sorry for that," Lando's voice cracks slightly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to do this right. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just casual. I want to be with you, properly. I want to tell our friends, take you on proper dates. I want everything."

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I can't promise it'll be easy. Our careers, the media attention, the travel - it's all going to be complicated. But I'm willing to fight for this, for us, if you are."

You stand there, momentarily stunned by Lando's words. Your mind is racing, trying to process everything he's just said. You've dreamed of hearing something like this from him for so long, but now that it's happening, you find yourself almost paralyzed.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally find your voice. "Lando, I… I don't know what to say. This is everything I've wanted to hear from you, but I'm scared too. What if we try this and it doesn't work out? What if we end up ruining our friendship, our work relationship?"

Lando's hand finally makes contact with your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Those are all valid fears," he says softly. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the same things. But I think what we have is worth the risk. Don't you?"

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as you savor the feeling. When you open them again, you see Lando looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

"I do," you whisper. "I really do. But Lando, I need you to be sure, if we do this, I need all of you. No more half measures, no more hiding."

Lando nods, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm sure. I want all of you, and I want to give you all of me in return."

The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes - it's everything you've been longing for. Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance between you and press your lips to Lando's. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both afraid this moment might shatter. But then Lando's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

It's not your first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different this time. There's a promise in this kiss, a commitment that wasn't there before.

You pour all your pent-up emotions - the longing, the frustration, the love you've been holding back. Lando responds with equal passion, one hand tangling in your hair while the other presses against the small of your back.

When you finally break apart, Lando rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs. The relief and happiness that flood Lando's face are beautiful to see.

"I've missed you too," you admit. "More than I wanted to admit, even to myself."

Lando's hands start to wander, tracing patterns on your back that make you shiver, you melt at his touch, but then your mind starts racing again.

"Where do we go from here, Lan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando takes a moment to consider your question, his hands still gently caressing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and determination.

"Well," he starts, a small smile playing on his lips, "I think we take it one step at a time. We don't need to rush anything, but we also don't need to hide anymore."

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"First things first," Lando says, his voice growing more confident, "I want to take you on a proper date. No sneaking around, no pretending we're just colleagues grabbing a quick bite. I want to take you somewhere nice, hold your hand in public, and not care who sees us."

The thought makes your heart flutter. "I'd like that," you reply softly.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy and hopeful about the future.

"So," Lando says after a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice, "since I left Carlos' party early to come here... does that mean I get to stay the night?"

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. "Cheeky," you tease, but there's no real accusation in your voice. Instead, you lean in and kiss him.

As the kiss intensifies, you both start moving towards the bed, hands roaming and clothes starting to come off. This time, there's no holding back, no pretending this is just a casual thing. Every touch, every kiss is infused with the promise of something lasting.

Two weeks later, you're in Baku for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

You're in the McLaren garage, eyes fixed on your tablet as you analyze the latest telemetry data. The familiar sounds of mechanics working and engineers discussing strategy fill the air, but you're completely focused on your task.

Suddenly, you sense a pair of eyes on you. Without turning, a smile tugs at your lips. You know exactly who it is.

"See something you like?" you ask playfully, still not looking up from your work.

You hear a low chuckle, then feel a warm presence behind you. "Just admiring my girlfriend," Lando's voice is soft, meant only for your ears.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your shoulder in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. True to his word, Lando has taken you on proper dates and you've made your relationship official. You still feel giddy every time Lando calls you his girlfriend, a fact that hasn't escaped his notice. He seems to take particular joy in introducing you as such, his eyes always seeking out your reaction.

"How's the data looking?" he says, giving you a quick squeeze.

"Pretty good, actually," you turn back to your tablet, but remain in his loose embrace. "Your last practice session showed some promising improvements in sector two."

"That's my girl," Lando murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "Always making me look good."

You chuckle, elbowing him gently. "You do that all on your own, superstar. I just provide the numbers."

You turn in Lando's arms, facing him with a soft smile. The garage bustles around you, but in this moment, it feels like you're in your own little bubble.

"You know," you say, your voice low, "I never thought I'd be standing here like this with you. In the middle of the garage, no less."

Lando's eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "Having second thoughts?" he teases.

"Not at all," you shake your head, your smile widening. "It's just different. Good different."

"The best kind of different," Lando agrees, echoing his words from that night in your hotel room.

"I should probably get back to work," you say reluctantly, not making any move to step away.

Lando nods, but doesn't loosen his hold on you. "Probably," he agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first…"

He leans in, pressing a quick but tender kiss to your lips. It's brief, mindful of your surroundings, but filled with promise.

As he pulls back, you can't help but laugh softly. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You love it," Lando grins, finally releasing you from his embrace.

"I do," you admit, your heart full. "Now go on, superstar. You've got a car to drive soon."

As you watch him blow you a kiss which made you throw your head back in laughter as he left, your heart feels full.

You and Lando. Lando and You. Finally, together.

[angel-sweets666]

stay…

Katsuki bakugo x reader

Katsuki and you spend your first night together in the same bed and he’s never been so comfy. this is rlly short, when I say I’m uninspired I mean it

His bed was warmer than usual, felt safer. Bakugo had always been skeptical of the dorms at UA, convinced they were sketchy and inadequate. But the day you, his partner, offered to lay down and sleep in the same bed, everything changed. The once cold and uninviting bed now felt like a haven of comfort and security. He watched you sleep, feeling an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over him.

As Bakugo tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, he couldn't help but marvel at how serene you looked in your sleep. He glanced up at the clock momentarily, noting the late hour, but his eyes were drawn back to your face. Your cute, sleepy expression put him in a trance. He had never thought so softly about anyone before. To him, people were usually lesser then him, nothing more then the ants he stomped on . But you? You were different. You were his baby, his precious, sweet little baby.

Even though you were strong and capable, Bakugo felt an overwhelming need to protect you. He knew how vulnerable you made him, how much of a target you could be for villains who sought to exploit his weaknesses. The thought of anything happening to you made his blood boil with a fierce protective instinct. He had to keep you safe, no matter what.

Bakugo rested his chin on your shoulder, listening to your steady breathing. The rhythm of it was soothing, grounding him in a way he never thought possible. He thought back to all the times he had seen people as lesser, as annoyances he could easily discard. But with you, it was different. He couldn't imagine his life without you in it.

You stirred slightly in your sleep, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Bakugo smiled to himself, feeling a warmth in his chest that he rarely experienced. He tightened his arm around you, pulling you closer. In this moment, everything felt right. The chaos of his day-to-day life, the constant battles and struggles, all seemed to fade away when he was with you.

"You awake?" Bakugo asked as softly as he could, trying not to disturb the serene atmosphere of the room.

"Mhm…" you replied sleepily, rolling over to face him, your eyes barely open.

"Well, you shouldn't be… Go back to sleep, dumbass. It's late, and we have training tomorrow," he grumbled, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Nuh-uh…" you mumbled, nuzzling your head into his chest, seeking more warmth and comfort.

"If you go to sleep now… I'll buy you food…" Bakugo offered, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

"…What kinda food?" you asked, your interest piqued despite your drowsiness.

"How's chocolate sound?" he proposed, a small smirk forming on his lips as he knew he had your attention now.

"I'm going back to bed now, Katsu," you responded, already feeling more relaxed at the thought.

"Atta girl/boy," he murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around you. He pressed another kiss to your temple, his heart swelling with a tenderness he rarely showed.

You felt his strong, steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, and the promise of chocolate was enough to lull you back into a peaceful slumber. Bakugo watched as your breathing evened out, a soft smile playing on his lips. He knew he would do anything to keep you happy and safe, even if it meant bribing you with your favorite snack.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully relax. For the first time in a long while, he felt content. You were the one person who could calm the constang rowdiness he always had. bakugo watched you slowly fall back asleep, wrapping his arms around you tighter and rolling over onto his back just so you can lay ontop of him. He pulls the blankets over your shoulders to keep you nice and warm. Bakugo sighed and stared off at the white ceiling again, maybe he could convince you to permanently move into his dorm..? here you were cuddled up to him! You were so cute.

[strawberry-nugget]

Ahhh I do NOT know what this is other than depressed af Bakugo, who is trying to be a good boyfriend with a hint of fluff

It starts as something as innocent as forgetting to fold your laundry after a hard day of work. Although he never does that, he's too meticulous about the house chores even after a 12 hour shift. You don't yell at him and he doesn't yell at you. He has ordered take out before even getting home and he eats in silence, after offering you some of his pizza and you decline, hurt that the portion of food that you made for him will go to waste. He doesn't say anything else for the remaining twenty minutes he remains awake and you end up folding the laundry.

By the time you go to the bedroom he's fast asleep, blond hair covering his forehead and mouth open enough so he can breathe through it. you notice the band aid on his nose; another wound he didn't bother telling you about.

It's a silent, muffled goodnight that puts you to sleep and not his arms around your waist but it's okay, you’ve been more than used to it.

When apathy isn't something that's enjoyable or even barely tolerable when you're in a relationship, you overlook it.

You think of him more often than you see him and you see him all the time. 

He delivers flowers to your workplace as an atonement for giving you the cold shoulder last night with a note. 

‘Sorry for being so grumpy lately, date tonight at 8?’

Your coworkers definitely enthuse about it and you grin like a schoolgirl. You think that even if you get off at six and you barely have enough time to get ready you can make it. So you text him, frenzied and insanely happy that you can make it and he snaps a picture of him drinking his smoothie while sitting on a railing of a building. Then he tells you where you're going for the night so you can be there as he'd be coming right after work.

Or at least he was supposed to. 

So what? He doesn't show up on a date. Katsuki's a pro hero, in the top five, too, so you can forgive that one time, despite having to endure the looks of pity from the waiters at the restaurant he has booked, and despite paying the minimum order fee all by yourself. All while downing a bottle of wine, dressed in your best clothes, make up done so nicely, in such little time too.

You try not to cry, at least not in front of anyone, because it's one time and it's okay that he didn't even bother to cancel on you, he for sure must have been busy! 

But you don't find it in you to plan another date anytime soon, and you don't allow him to mention whatever happened that night when he gets home to you. He’s battered, he’s bloody and behind red eyes there's that sorry expression of a dog that’s trashed the whole roll of toilet paper. 

You dont yell, you don't fight. He runs a bath for himself and you wash his hair.

Though, you'd love to actually at least leave a sassy remark on what he did, you're scared that his response won't be up to your standards or liking and hurting yourself like this -yes, begging for an explanation to the happening is begging- is not something you plan on doing. 

Until it happens again. 

This time, it's worse, because he's supposed to meet you and your friends at the cinema, on a day patrol shouldn't take too long to end. On a day there's no new article about a monstrous villain destroying the city. And yes, you do refresh the news section on your phone every second, with the way he's been getting so beaten up on the daily.

But this time, it's okay, because he lets you know beforehand. 

10 minutes beforehand. 

Through text. 

And even if it infuriates your friends, you can live with it. It's fine, you tell yourself and your friends. It doesn't usually happen, and he actually made an effort to let you know so you don't have to wait on him. 

It's more than understandable, you tell your friends, because your boyfriend (if you could call him that still) is a pro hero, and you, nothing but a civilian. His lifestyle is far more important than yours. Which, you actually find funny in the moment, now that everyone's staring at you. 

But your friends do not find it funny, actually. They don't lecture you yet, if they did, you'd burst in tears, and you enjoy the movie as much as you can in their company and rheir company alone. 

They're all you have, at the end of the day. 

Katsuki doest really have an everyday life as a civilian. And while striving to become number one he's overworking himself 

There's also the time he shows up to your friend's art gallery opening with his hero costume -broken left gauntlet and grease and mud all over his hair and face- because 1) you've lectured him about never showing up and the impression he's left on your friends and 2) he really is trying to make an effort and well 3)he doesn't really care about an amazing public image.

Your friends hate him. 

You don't.

The annual hero ratings come around the corner and he's fallen one place on the chart. The two of you spend that night at his parents’ and some subtle comments that youre not sure from whom it is worded sparks a fight with his mother, she tells him to not visit her again if he doesn't fix his attitude. They end up fighting over the phone every single day.

He gets worse after, always towards himself, as if he's done all the bad in the world. He spends most of his day on patrol and in the gym, but he doest bulk anymore. He’s more than okay with you making him lunch for work, he’s not mindful of any of his habits for a while.

Every single day that passes he’s more unhappy. Every day is worse than the other.

You continue to wash his hair and do the laundry on days he comes home bleeding and you don't get mad when he just wants to stuff his face in pizza. You go to bed with him and never let him sleep alone.

“you're s’nice to me when you don't have to” he mutters as you're stroking his hair away from his forehead. Not one of you is focusing on the movie that's playing. He;s sprawled like a cat on your chest, breathing from his mouth like that night.

“Its just cause i want to”

“m sorry i stood you up on that date”

“no need to talk about it” you reassure him. And its like he gets mad when you place a kiss on his exposed forehead. Brows furrowed, eyes half lid in exhaustion.

You pay him no mind, averting your eyes to the screen on your right He’s been so frustrated, you just know he's going to want to pick a fight

“dumbass. you should have dumped me.”

“You want me to dump you?”

He shakes his head in your chest as a response, hands wrap even tighter around your waist. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then okay? and stop thinking you don't deserve to be happy because life is shitty right now. You're the one who told me. Remember?”

At that he hugs you impossibly close. Pebbled chest pressing on your stomach as he wiggles his hands to wrap your feet around his waist. Your hoodie is lifted, just above your belly so he can plant a kiss on your skin and slanted red eyes look into yours again, this time more determined.

He knows how life has been for you. Things keep happening to you one after another and he's been there to witness it. To hold you. Your relationship with your own mother is only a little worse than his own and now, for the first time he actually understands how it's like to have someone hold him through all that he's been going through. 

No one can understand him better than you do, no one can love him better than you do.

There's an end to his restless nights, as you're spending them wrapped in his arms, face squished between his pectoral muscles. And now it doesn't matter if you sleep for two, five or eight or twelve hours. You're always rested. He’s not grumpy in the morning. Your migraines are gone. His muscles aren't sore anymore.

 Katsuki never had a civilian life, but when he comes home to you it's the closest he can get to one.

(this is my first post in two years be nice)

[parkerluvsu]

SANTA BABY (art donaldson x fem! reader)

the flurry of pure white snow outside your window caused your peaceful slumber to be cut short, the brightness of it peeking through your eyelids no matter how tightly you closed them. shifting in your cozy bed piled high with blankets, you see your husband art has not been affected by the growing blizzard outside, his chest rising and falling accompanied by soft snores.

arts body was warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold that was trying it's best to seep in through the windows. even in his sleep, art could sense your movement, removing his arm from under the blanket and reaching out for you. you can't help the smile that creeps onto your face as you interlace your fingers with his, watching his face relax back into peacefulness.

you find yourself able to fall asleep again, this time getting woken up by a pressure on your chest, causing your eyes to snap open before you recognize the familiar tuft of blond hair. the blond hair was, of course, connected to art, who was too busy pressing his head into your chest to notice that you've woken up. you raise your hand and run your fingers through his soft hair, causing art to startle.

"you're awake.." he mumbles, eyes threatening to fall closed. you smile, petting his hair gently. "i am" you say simply, the cloud of tiredness in your beginning to clear as you watch him become more awake as well. "what time is it?" art asks, trying to gauge the time of day by looking outside but the bright snow making it difficult. you grab your phone, turning it on to check, "it's like 11:30" you say, not surprised that you both slept in quite late. art hums, "let's just stay in bed all day.." he's only half joking, stretching out his legs and yawning before settling back into bed.

you giggle, rolling onto your side and looking at art, admiring the subtle lines and freckles on his face, brought out by the brightness in the room. art has flipped to lay on his stomach, his toned back now flexing as he moves his arms to stretch. you can't resist leaning forward and kissing his soft skin, trying to count the freckles scattered across his back like stars. "shouldn't we go downstairs and open presents?" you ask, selfishly trying to get him to stay in bed with you.

art shakes his head, opening his eyes and letting them roam over your face, taking in every little detail that he adores so much. "no way.. not when i have the best present up here.. all to myself" he jokes, a smile gracing his face. you almost groan at how cheesy it is, shoving your face into your pillow before you're interrupted by art nosing at your neck. he plants wet kisses along your jawline, and if you concentrate hard enough you can feel the smile on his lips.

the feeling makes your stomach jump, never getting used to the endless amount of attention you receive from art. he pulls you closer to him, helping you hike your leg over his hip and placing his warm hands on your lower back. you can feel his breathing start to pick up against your neck, the more he pushes on your lower back, the closer you get to the bulge straining against his briefs. you can't help but giggle, appreciating how quickly he gets flustered after all these years.

you grin against him, letting art lick at your lips as you place your hand between your bodies, trailing it down to his briefs. art whines lowly against your mouth when you rub your hand gently against him through the fabric, immediately feeling the wetness of the precum oozing out of him. "eager, huh?" you tease, pulling his underwear down to rest under his balls, now moving your hand against his bare skin, squeezing your hand around him to feel him pulsing.

art noses at your neck, rolling his hips into your fist and reveling at the warmth that feels a million times better than his own hand. "k-keep going.." he murmurs, tensing his stomach and squeezing his eyes shut at the sensation. you swipe your thumb over his tip, smearing his wetness over his dick as he whines. arts hand comes down to clutch at yours, not trying to stop your movements, just trying to ground himself by touching you.

art gets close to cumming embarrassingly fast, his hand tightening around yours so much that it almost hurts, but you keep going, almost having to pin him down as he squirms. the soft "ah, ah, ah"s escaping arts mouth get louder, and he can't warn you before his cum is spilling all over your hand. art always cums a lot, more than you'd expect to even be able to come out of his body. as the last of his cum spurts out of his angry pink tip, arts body shudders.

you pull your hand off of him, watching as his eyes flutter open again. art always gets extremely docile after he cums, after a few seconds of resting, art shifts his body to lay on top of you, and you aren't shocked to feel his dick hard again against your thigh. "let me make you feel good too.. please" you can feel the vibrations of his words against your neck, his soft lips working their way down your chest, taking time to suckle at your nipples. you instinctively spread your legs for him, making space for his body to settle between your thighs. art makes small noises of appreciation as he kisses the soft skin on your stomach, sometimes dragging his teeth gently along the skin to feel you tense up under him.

art places his large warm hands on the squishy skin of your inner thighs, pushing them apart even farther as you arch your back at the feeling of his hot breath on your cunt. art immediately starts mouthing at your clit and pushing his tongue inside you, not even worrying about whether he can breathe or not, just wanting to make you feel good. art has never had a technique for eating you out, he just practically makes out with your pussy until you have to pull him away by the soft curls on his head, which is what you're having to do currently. "art- art it's too much" you whine out, trying to shut your legs as best you can, but arts hands keep them spread wide for him. you can feel the knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten, motivating you to push arts face away from your cunt so you can look him in the eyes.

"art.. please fuck me" you normally aren't one to beg, but something about the way the soft morning light hits arts milky skin makes you terribly eager. art, always wanting to please, nods his head, finally shucking off his briefs and letting his cock smack against his stomach. art places his hand in front of you, wordlessly asking for you to spit in it for him. you comply, watching with slight awe as he uses your spit to lube himself up, rubbing his tip at your entrance before slowly moving inside. art isn't necessarily afraid of hurting you with his size anymore, but he knows his body well enough to know that if he goes too quick, he'll just cum immediately.

despite this knowledge, as art sinks further into the warmth you provide him, he finds all logic has disappeared. your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pulling him close. art groans against your neck, picking up his head to kiss you passionately, before closing his eyes to focus on not cumming before you. "i can’t, its- you're too warm- just need—" he can’t form complete sentences, he’s thrusting mindlessly until he reaches his peak. you wrap your legs around his hips and whisper in his ear "go ahead.. cum for me art" and he's a goner. art gives one last thrust, the hardest he’s given you so far, then stills completely. his entire body shudders with the feeling of euphoria coursing through his body, he grips your hips so tight he’s sure you’ll have bruises in the shape of his hands. art holds you still and lets his cum pulse inside of you. he wants it as deep as possible. he can’t explain the need to breed that takes over his head, but he knows he can't risk you shifting even a little because he needs it all to spill inside.

you're sure he didn't even notice that you came too, squeezing so tight around him that if he was in his right mind he would have noticed. you let art come down from his high, slowly sinking further into your body as he places his head on your bare chest, shifting his hips slightly to pull out. art fights to stay awake, his instincts making him get up and pad over to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth for you and gently spreading your legs again, this time with more pure intentions. the feeling of the warm washcloth soothes your soreness, and you don't have to open your eyes when you feel art slip back into bed beside you, laying on his back as he pulls you to lay on his chest.

"merry christmas" he murmurs, a small smile on his face. you smile too, looking up at his blushing face. that's the last thing you remember before you fall peacefully back asleep, your dreams full of decorating trees, drinking hot cocoa and cuddling by the fire with your husband. <3

[b4ddprincess]

"but the problem is, i keep focusing on my body"

i've been getting a lot of these lately, and the most i can say is

you gotta find ways to let go.

if focusing on your body is a problem then relax your body until it can't relax any further. take deep breaths. you can even do progressive muscle relaxation. you'll be focusing on your body then, but only for a period of time.

you may realise that after your body seems asleep that your mind is wide awake. you can challenge yourself by focusing on counting backward from 500 – 0. if you mess up while counting, start over. everytime you mess up start from the top. if you fumble, start over. if you miscount, start over. don't worry about the time that's past. trust me. this way, you'll unintentionally hyperfocus on your 4d. you'll also end up inducing pure consciousness randomly while counting.

if you're not into counting, you can get lost with your thoughts, you can daydream, etc. and it doesn't have to be forced.

the problem is that y'all are waiting for when you can't feel your body anymore, but you have to let go of all that too. yes, i am aware that a lot of my posts are recycled info that are worded differently, but it's because it seems to me that y'all are still holding on to something that you shouldn't be holding on to. y'all actually have to apply.

let go and relax 🩷

[my-castles-crumbling]

rain - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 161

Regulus jolts awake to the sound of rain. Drops hammer on the windows of Gryffindor Tower and faint rumbles sound in the distance.

It's very late. Or very early, depending on your thinking. But either way, he shouldn't be here. It's an unspoken conclusion they've reached. He sneaks out before morning. It's better for both of them.

So, pulling himself away from the addictingly warm embrace of a shirtless James Potter, who is sprawled beneath him, he sighs, resigning himself to a long walk along the cold, dreary corridors.

Until the strong arms of his boyfriend tighten and he lets out a little "oh!" and falls back into his tight embrace.

"Stay," James mumbles, voice rough from sleep.

"James, I-"

"Don't care. Stay. Please." And now he's awake, staring beseechingly into Regulus's eyes, expression clear even in the dark.

He wants him. Wants them. No matter the consequences.

"Alright," Regulus mumbles, trying not to think about how his insides are fluttering.

[syddsatyrn]

⛧Devotion is Love with Wings⛧ Chapter Two: Emotions Unveiled

Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4

⛧Pairing: - Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

⛧Warnings: Alcohol, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, king x servant, panic attack, heartbreak, happy ending.

⛧Words: 2.5K

⛧Summary: Feelings surface and the line between duty and desire begins to blur. Admitting your feelings to the King of Hell could be the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you. Lucifer battles with his own internal struggles in silence.

⛧Notes: Ask and you shall receive, my dears! You all asked me for a part two so here we go! Keep an eye out for my next fic because its time for some Alastor content! My beta reader is @hellfiremunsonn and she deserve all the rainbows and cupcakes.

⛧Tag list: @loslox @tiedyedghoulette @naiadic

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

As the soft rays of the morning sun seeped through the velvet curtains, you slowly opened your eyes, blinking a few times, adjusting to the gentle light. Despite the room still cloaked in soothing darkness, you knew you were in Lucifer's room. It takes you a moment to recall last night's events. You feel his breath on the back of your neck and his arm around your midsection. You can feel your face get hotter with every detail you take in. He is comfortably curled up behind you sound asleep. He needs rest, you’re afraid to move a muscle and wake him. You look over at the clock on the wall, you both are extremely late for breakfast.

“...Shit.” You say under your breath. Lucifer begins to move slightly, he lets out a soft hum and holds you just a bit closer. You can’t tell if he’s awake or not, even though you truly did not want to get out of bed, it had to be done. You slowly sit up and turn around, you almost place your hand on his shoulder but you take a moment to admire his sweet sleeping face. Instead, you gently place your hand on his cheek. Lucifer’s eyes flutter open, he meets your gaze and gives you a sleepy smile.

“Good morning…” He says softly while holding your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. You wanted to pull away, but his eyes made you want to just crawl back into his arms and go back to sleep.

“G-Good Morning, sir.” You stutter a little, Lucifer’s smile turns into a small smirk, he is amused by how flustered you are. He finally lets go and you try to compose yourself, but it's hard to do so when he looks so cute.

“I’ll go get some coffee, it looks like we slept in.” You finally break the spell he had on you and crawl out of his bed. When you leave, Lucifer immediately misses your presence close to him, having you next to him made a significant difference in his mood and sleep. It was the first time he’d felt the warmth of another person in a long time, and now that he’s had a taste, he wants more.

You head down the hall to your room, when you enter you quickly shut the door, thankful no one saw you. You get dressed in your uniform and head downstairs to the kitchen. While you made coffee, the staff were surprised to see you so late into the morning. You make up a quick excuse, stating you were not feeling well but you’re doing much better now so it's nothing to worry about.

You take two cups of coffee upstairs on a silver tray, and you do your best to mentally shift into work mode, but you can't stop thinking about last night. You return to his room, the king is still in bed, sporting a satisfied look on his face. You hand him his coffee and place the tray on the bedside table. 

“Thank you, my dear.” He says and gestures for you to sit on the bed, so you take your cup from the tray and have a seat.

“I want to apologize.” You start, and he looks at you with a raised brow. “I shouldn't have fallen asleep in your quarters. That was inappropriate of me.”

“I’m gonna stop you there, you do exactly what is asked of you. Everything you do is for my benefit. I could never be upset with you for something like that.” He says with a gentle voice. His gold eyes soften as he realizes you’re being serious.

“Thank you…” You reply, just barely above a whisper. His words made you feel a little better, you only want to do what's best for your king…but sometimes you can get carried away. You would do anything for him, that includes bending the rules.

“Now stop sulking.” He says and crawls over to you, sitting beside you on the bed. He is seated rather close, you look away trying to hide your red face. He turns your face back towards him using his index finger and thumb. “You’re too pretty to be so sad.”

“Y-You forget yourself, sir.” You stutter, barely keeping it together. You finish your coffee and return the cup to the tray. When you stand up and walk towards the wardrobe, Lucifer chuckles at your attempt to remain dignified. He is knocking down walls with the way he speaks to you. Breaking down each professional boundary one at a time. His touch was setting you on fire and you were running out of ways to extinguish it.

You sort through his clothes and pull out a black suit with red and white embellishments. You set it on the corner of the bed like you always do. “I’ll make sure I have your lunch ready for you in your study, sir” You say quickly, with a red blush spread across your face, you take the tray and quickly excuse yourself.

You rush down the hall and back to your room. Your chest heaves and you're out of breath. What in the devil's name happened there?! He looked like he was going to kiss you, his face was so close and he called you pretty! What is this idiot doing? You cover your face with your sleeves and pace back and forth in your room.

You always prided yourself on your composure. You navigate life’s twists and turns with a steady hand and a level head. At first, you brushed off these fluttering feelings as a mere passing fancy. You find yourself in front of a mental crossroads, on one hand, there is the exhilarating rush of new emotions. On the other was fear of rejection, an unconventional relationship, and possible heartbreak. If you ruin what you have with Lucifer, you will end up with nothing. All your years climbing the hierarchy would be null and void.

But what if it was possible? No, it couldn't be, there was just no way. As far as you are aware, you’ve never heard of such a situation that ended well. This can’t possibly be happening, you need some time to sort yourself out. But at some point, you are going to see him again today and you’re not sure how you’ll handle it. You always buried your feelings deep within your heart, locking them away like a precious treasure hidden from prying eyes. You’d like to think you're capable of continuing this facade, but this time you are not so sure.

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

Lucifer sighs as you leave the room, your reactions are rather fascinating though. He gets up and takes his clothes to the bathroom to dress himself. Lucifer is well aware of the power dynamic here, and he has a habit of pushing things as far as he can. It comes with the territory of normally having anything he wants. He buttons his vest and looks at himself in the mirror. So what if he had a thing for his advisor? He wonders if he’s just lonely and that’s why he’s acting this way…even if that was true, it wouldn’t explain the relief he feels every time you enter a room. He puts on his coat, straightens his hat, and leaves his room to spend time in his study. 

He opens the door and notices his lunch is sitting on his desk along with some invoices to sign and an overview of yesterday's meeting. This is unusual, you normally bring him his meal and check in on his daily progress at this time. This is cause for concern, indeed. Was Y/N avoiding him? Surely that can't be true, they would never just ignore him like that. He slumps into his chair, wondering if he messed up somehow. 

Did he ruin the years of trust they had built? He still wants her around, he would hate the idea of anyone else taking your place. The more he thought about it the more the pit in his stomach grew. He attempts to eat but can’t put down much food, his nerves are making it difficult to eat. He needs to find you and apologize, he has to make this right somehow. 

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

Hours go by and you’ve done your best to avoid Lucifer at all costs, but you can't keep this up forever. You are standing on a large balcony in the dining room wearing your pajamas. The sun has set and the stars are visible in the sky, there is a chill in the air. You let out a defeated sigh, you’re going to have to tell him or forget about your feelings completely. You fear that if you confessed your love, the delicate threads that bind you both together would fray and snap. If you forget and try to move on, how bad is it going to hurt when he finds a new love? It would ache so bad you might have to leave his manor entirely, you knew that if that were to happen, it would shatter Lucifer's heart.

You feel a few drops of rain fall on your skin, and as each minute passes the rain becomes heavier and heavier. You look out into the courtyard, it’s getting late and you should be heading inside but you stand there, tears in your eyes. How could you be so foolish and self-centered? You knew the rules and you chose to defy them, it's your own fault you feel so awful.

Suddenly the rain is no longer hitting you, you don't feel the cold drops on your face anymore. You turn around and Lucifer is standing in the doorway, his large wing covers you, shielding you from the rain.

“Hey…Can we talk?” He says with a soft look of concern on his face. You nod while wiping your face with your sleeves, he motions for you to come back inside. He walks slightly ahead of you, leading you upstairs to his bedroom. He opens the door for you and gives you a small half-smile. Lucifer walks over to his desk and pours you both a glass of bourbon. He hands you a glass and you take a seat at the small table next to the window. He sits across from you, you can tell he's a bit anxious because he keeps looking away. You take a sip from your drink, hoping the alcohol will settle your nerves. 

The ambiance of the dimly lit room, the soft glow of candlelight danced upon his face. With a hesitant breath, Lucifer cleared his throat. 

“I need to apologize to you,” Lucifer says with a despairing look on his face. “I’m sure you’ve felt confused and in distress all day.” He takes a sip of his drink while trying to find the right words. “Before I begin, let me just say that I think so highly of you. Y/N, you’ve been there for me during every awful situation I’ve faced and I am so grateful for you.”

He grabs your hand and his expression changes to a more serious one. “I don't want you to leave my side. I couldn’t bear it if I did something to make you leave.”

“Sir, I–” You try to speak but Lucifer interrupts you.

“Y/N. I need you to drop the formalities for ten minutes, please.” He cuts you off and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Is there something going on between us or am I just a lonely, divorced, delusional, man making it all up in my head so I don't feel so shitty about my life?”

You are shocked by his words, you had no idea he felt that way about himself. 

“You’re not delusional, Lucifer.” You answer, it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and put them in order. “It's all my fault, really. I guess after all this time I’ve developed some feelings.”

Lucifer’s eyes widen, his face softens and he squeezes your hand and you look back into his eyes with a small smile. “I think I just got carried away, I know nothing can happen between us. It would be unacceptable and irredeemable. I’m the delusional one, to think you could ever love someone like me.” You reply while looking down at your drink, your finger toying with the rim of the glass.

Without a word, without warning, Lucifer leaned over the table and grabbed ahold of your shirt. He pulls you close so that you are face to face, leaning over the table. You could feel his breath on your lips as he said, “Love doesn't adhere to rules or expectations, darling. I will choose to defy every convention, every decree if it means I get to spend the rest of my life devoted to someone I love.”

Tears started to well up in your eyes, he slowly closed the gap between you both. His lips softly pressed against yours. Time stopped in that moment, amidst the chaos of entangled emotions. The taste was bittersweet, you’ve only ever dreamed of this. His hand lets go of your shirt and caresses your face. You kiss him back with fervor, a silent confession that speaks volumes. Both of you daring to defy the boundaries of monarchy and courtier.

You lace your fingers with his, he stands up and pulls you out of your seat. You practically fell into his arms, Lucifer held the back of your head, the other arm wrapped around your waist.

Your tears flowed freely as you hid your face in his chest. He holds you tight, offering you silent comfort as you let out quiet sobs. Lucifer strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head.

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize…” He says, barely above a whisper. “Just let me take care of you for once, my love.” Before you can protest, Lucifer scoops you up and gently places you on his bed. He climbs in and pulls the covers over you both. He wipes your tear-stained cheeks with his sleeve and smiles at you while you take the time you need to calm down. 

“C’mon, babe say something…You’re killing me.” He says, waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

“I love you…” You say between staggered breaths. Your eyes are locked on his, somehow Lucifer blows through the many walls you’ve put up to prevent this and you are left bare and vulnerable. It is terrifying, being this helplessly in love. Bearing the fragments of your heart to the person who held it entirely.

“I love you too, dummy.” His smile is sweet like saccharine, his voice is smooth like silk. Your lips met his once more while your fingers card through his hair. He kept you as close as possible, and in the hush of the night amidst the whispered confessions, you and your king curled up together and fell asleep once again in each other's arms. No sovereign, demon or angel could pull you two apart even if they tried. 

[artificial-transmutations]

Welcome to the Harem

"Are you quite alright, Sayyid?"

Liam woke up, startled. In front of him, blocking the sun stood a tanned young man with dark hair, looking down at him.

"Excuse me?" answered Liam, still not fully awake. His accent revealed his origins. He was British.

"I'm sorry, Sayyid. I have noticed you have fallen asleep in the sun, and I am worried you might burn your skin."

The other man was probably a few years younger than Liam, possibly in his early twenties. Unlike Liam, who was a tourist visiting this sun-kissed region of Hurghada, he seemed to be from around here: his skin was dark and his body lithe and strong. He had a slight Arabic accent, which added a certain exotic flavor to his words.

"Uh, I guess I dozed off a little."

It was hard to rip his gaze away from the young man in front of him, since he didn't even look half-bad, but Liam knew better than show any signs of homosexuality here. Even coming here, to a resort, as a tourist wasn't entirely without risk, but the British man had made a pact with himself not to let anything stop him from relaxing for the first time in years. And what better place could there be to escape the endless rain of the kingdom than the beautiful, sun-drenched beaches of the Red Sea.

"Ah, Sayyid, I fear that I have noticed too late. Apologies."

Liam was confused for a moment until he looked down on himself. And really: his exposed upper body had turned a bright shade of red.

"Bloody hell", he cursed, before smiling back at the native apologetically. "Sorry for that. You are right, I shouldn't have stayed out in the sun for so long."

His conversational partner seemed to look all over Liam before he smiled the same thin smile from before.

"Do not worry Sayyid, it happens a lot. The sun here is stronger than where you are from. If you want, I can offer some soothing lotion against the burn."

"Well, I'd appreciate that, thank you. What did you say your name was?"

"I am called Hassan." Hassan said. "Please allow me to apply the lotion."

Liam felt a bit uncomfortable, as the young man produced a glass bottle filled with a milky white substance and unscrewed the lid. He knew a bit or two of the Arabic language and knew that the name was rather fitting: Hassan meant 'handsome' in English, and Hassan was, indeed, rather good looking. Liam feared that it might be just a tad too exciting being touched by a handsome guy with lotion, but it was probably exceedingly rude to reject the offer.

"Sure, thanks a lot."

He just had to control himself a bit.

However, nothing prepared him for the feeling when Hassan carefully began rubbing the white substance onto his skin, with careful, almost tender touches. Liam felt the heat radiating off the young man's body while his fingers massaged the lotion onto his body, which, in contrast, felt cool and soothing, and he had to fight an erection forming. It didn't help at all that Hassan seemed to know exactly what he was doing, massaging his skin just the right way.

"There you go, Sayyid. You will feel much better soon."

Liam was fighting very hard but despite his efforts felt himself chubbing up in his tight speedo. Damn it. He should have worn something less revealing. Now he could only pray that Hassan wouldn't notice.

That hope was short lived. With skillful hands, he massaged the lotion into all visible skin, even right next to his tented speedo. While Hassan didn't acknowledge the show of indecency per se, he did take his time on the sensitive skin there, gently rubbing the lotion, and Liam knew exactly what the Arab was doing. He was teasing him, and it worked. The Brit was painfully hard and was glad when Hassan finally pulled away.

"There you go Sayyid. That should allow your skin to regenerate." he said, still with his thin smile. By now, Liam's head was at least as red as his chest, and he couldn't bring himself to directly look at Hassan.

"Ehm, thank you. That was very kind of you. What... kind of lotion is it exactly, by the way? It sure smells interesting."

The question was mainly to change the topic of the conversation to a safe territory, but Lian was also genuinely intrigued. Most suntan lotions he knew smelled fresh and flowery - or not at all. But this one... The smell was strong, and herbal, but with an interesting undertone. It smelled somewhat musky and manly, like a gym or a locker room. And there was something else, something familiar that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Ah, I'm glad you asked. It is a special recipe from my boss, Sheikh Tariq, himself. Do you like it?"

"Yeah, it's... pretty intense."

"Sheikh Tariq's recipes are always very... powerful, you know. You shouldn't have any problem with your sunburn anymore, but if you want, I can check on you again tomorrow."

"Sure."

Lian felt a strange pull from the handsome Arab and couldn't bring himself to refuse.

"Very well, Sayyid. May I ask your name?"

"Eh, yes, sure. It's Lian."

"Liam, is it?"

"No, Lian, with a 'n'." This was hardly the first time people confused his name, so Lian was used to it by now. Something seemed wrong about that, though, even though he couldn't say what.

"Very well, Lian. I shall return tomorrow."

With a final nod, the young Arab walked away, and Liam watched his toned, muscular body moving before he lay back down. The lotion did feel nice, and he felt his muscles relax and his burning skin soothe. Still, to be extra sure, he moved to the shade before he dozed off again.

Lian was surprisingly hungry at the evening buffet this day and wolfed down plate after plate of local food, which was delicious. When he went to his hotel room afterwards, he just felt wonderful. He decided to take a shower before bed and was amazed to find the redness had disappeared completely, leaving his pale skin smooth and soft. Except... it wasn't quite as pale anymore. Instead, he had acquired a slight tan. It looked good on him, he decided, as it complemented his lean definition and sparse body hair nicely.

That night, Lian had strange dreams. He dreamt that he, somehow, was pale as a piece of paper, thin like a stick figure and, of course, completely smooth all over his body. That was of course nonsense, Lian laughed about himself when he woke up. He probably had some distant ancestors from a sunnier region of the world, since even in winter, his skin never really lost its tan, and was often compared to a surfer's.

It was a good day for sunbathing again, and, secretly, Lian wouldn't mind meeting Hassan again. He packed his towel, his sunglasses and his book, and went outside. However, it wasn't long until he had dozed off again, and when he was woken by Hassan again, it was already afternoon.

"Ah, good evening, Lian. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, yes, a lot. Thanks again for yesterday. You really saved my vacation."

"Don't worry, Sayyid, this is my job."

He looked at Lian with an appraising look but was apparently not too happy with what he saw.

"Would you like another application of the lotion, Sayyid?"

"Yes, thank you, Hassan. That would be lovely."

The Arab was just as good with the lotion as the day before, and as soon as his skillful hands touched Lian's body, his dick grew hard again. However, since it didn't really pose any problems yesterday, Lian didn't even try to hide it today. Besides, it was probably normal, right?

He half registered that the tent in his underwear was much larger than yesterday, but that was probably imagination.

"Do you know what ingredients the lotion contains, Hassan?"

"Yes, Lian. We use a special extract of the Aloe Vera plant, as well as essential oils of local herbs. And then, there are some secret ingredients that only Sheikh Tariq knows about."

"Damn, that Sheikh really knows what he is doing. Are you Bedouins?"

"Yes, in a way. However, we no longer live the traditional nomadic life. Instead, the Sheikh founded an island resort that is open to the most exclusive guests.

"So, he is kind of a businessman then?"

"Yes, that is a way of putting it."

"Wow, that sounds fascinating. I'd love to see that."

Hassan smiled his thin smile, as he carefully massaged the area around Lian's throbbing erection. It was almost like he was amused about a secret joke.

"I can ask him, if you want. Your name was Lian, right? And you come from...?"

"Layan", corrected Layan. "And I'm from the United Kingdom, although my dad immigrated from the UAE."

"So, a man of mixed race then. Very good. I'm sure that will please the Sheikh. If you excuse me, I'll have to make a phone call."

"Sure", Layan agreed. His own slight Arabic accent felt somewhat alien all of a sudden, but it was probably just because he noticed the way Hassan spoke. After all, Layan had it all his life now: Even though he was born and raised in the UK, they only spoke Arabic at home, since his father refused to learn English, even now.

The smell from the lotion was even stronger today than yesterday, and it mixed so well with his own body odor. Layan's tan skin was sweating a lot, like usual, and the small pelt of black body hair was always soaked with his manly smell. He liked it that way: If he didn't have to, he didn't use any deodorant at all. And now, the smell of the spices completed his own odor nicely.

It didn't help that his dick was so hard, and his balls ached. His speedo was obscenely tented and for a moment, Layan feared someone in the resort might find it offensive. Truth be told, the conservative atmosphere in the resort was one of the few reasons that held him back from rubbing one out right here and now, seeing as a wet patch of precum already stained the tip of the tent.

Before Layan could think more about that, however, Hassan came back.

"Good news!" he said, and it took Layan a bit to notice that he had switched to Arabic.

"The Sheikh would be delighted to have you in his resort. We can leave immediately, if you want to. It also might be a more private atmosphere on his island."

The last comment was obviously aimed at Layan's throbbing rod, but Layan surely wasn't one to be easily embarrassed by his own masculinity.

"I would love to come. Let me just grab my stuff." he replied in the language of his father and got off his deck chair. Hassan nodded and waited politely, while Layan hurried to his room to pack his stuff. However, once he had arrived in the privacy of his hotel room, he couldn't help but admire himself in the mirror: He was a fine specimen of man, really:

His skin was a beautiful golden color, his black hair was short and shiny, and his dark, stubbled face gave him an exotic and masculine air. Not to mention his defined chest, his ripped abs, his well-trained arms, and his powerful legs, all covered with a layer of soft, black hair. And in between those powerful legs hung the pride of Layan, a heavy, uncut Arab dick, surrounded by a bush of the same black pubes.

He just couldn't help it. Hassan would have to wait a few minutes longer, he decided, as he closed his fist around the erect shaft and started to pump. He really needed that! He hadn't shot his load since... this morning. No, he was a man, and he needed release every few hours! In a few minutes, his large dick was shooting a stream of cum all over the room, and he sighed happily. He would leave that to the room service to clean up, as he didn't want to delay Hassan any further.

However, once he left the room behind him, he suddenly realized what the smell of the lotion had reminded him of: Cum. Was that the secret ingredient? Well, it probably wasn't, but it was a nice and naughty thought, in any case.

Together with Hassan, he boarded a private yacht that set course to the Sheikh's island. He couldn't help but admire the young man's physique as he steered the boat and licked his lips involuntarily.

Finally, they arrived. The island resort was luxurious, even more than Layan had anticipated it to be: Palm trees lined the white sand beach, and several servants awaited the two guests, who were led to the main building. It was a modern, western style house, but with some traditional middle-eastern touches, like the intricate wooden window panes and the colorful tiling. What Layan noticed, though, was that everyone they met, the many servants and the very few guests, were men, in their prime. There were no children or elderly, and certainly no women. In short: Everyone was hot!

"Sheikh Tariq will be expecting you, Sayyid", Hassan told him, and led him into a private room.

"But before you meet him, let me apply the lotion one more time."

"I'd love that, thank you!", Layan said with a grin.

He was a bit surprised but didn't resist, when Hassan grabbed his speedo and pulled it down, exposing all of Layan's body to the handsome man. His cock was quickly getting hard again.

"I need to apply the lotion to your whole body, this time." Hassan explained and, without hesitation started to work, as the totally nude Layan stepped out of his speedo and widened his stance until he stood legs shoulder-width apart, in his typical power-stance.

This time, Layan was prepared for the wonderful feeling of Hassan's strong hands and his teasing ways and could fully enjoy the sensation. He smirked and let the other man do his work, enjoying the touches with closed eyes.

Due to these, he missed the fact that his body changed drastically under the repeated effect of the lotion: Even more hair sprouted, and his frame quickly packed on more muscles. He even grew a bit taller, still, now significantly bigger than Hassan in every way.

As Hassan massaged his hard cock, a soft moan escaped Layan's lips. The cum-like smell, mixed with his own body odor made him even more horny, and his dick grew even bigger in the skilled hands of Hassan, until it was positively massive, both in girth and length. His old, unimproved, British cock would have fit twice over into that monstrosity.

Layan didn't think much about it, though. In fact, as Hassan progressed, he thought less and less. His thoughts became even simpler and more and more focused on nothing than his body, and his need to *fuck*. Yeah, that was right. Layth was a pure-bred piece of Arab prime beef, created for nothing but one thing: Bringing pleasure to men, and fucking them senseless. His name meant "Lion", and, true to that name, he was nothing short of an animal in bed.

Only when Hassan withdrew his hands, Layth opened his eyes. The smaller man had an obvious erection in his pants, but nodded politely, while licking his lips.

"I'm sure the Sheikh will be pleased with his newest addition to his harem. I can't wait to play with you, once Sheik Tariq had his turn."

Just like that, a vacation can turn into a calling for life. I'm sure the Sheikh will be impressed! You can enjoy a few additional versions of our newest addition to the harem over at my tip jar.

[yikesmary]

PREGNANCY CRAVINGS — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: where being pregnant comes with its struggles, and one of them just so happens to be the random pregnancy cravings. so, in the middle of the night, you try to sneak out and go to the convenience store nearby and buy something to satisfy your craving. however, your husband wakes up and insists to accompany you—even if he’s barely awake.

notes: the convenience store i've pictured in mind are like the ones i've seen in korea. but i don't really address where this occurs in, so use your imagination!

disclaimer: i'm not pregnant or have been pregnant so everything i write about pregnancy is most likely not true and therefore shouldn't be taken as fact (unless it's true, but make sure it's validated by an actual medical professional).

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“Oh, Cheol, you absolute asshole,”

You tried using all your strength to push your husband’s sleeping figure away from you, the heat coming from his body was too much for you. Trying to move him away was an obstacle, especially because he was working out more as of lately.

But finally, you had managed to cause enough noise in trying to move him that Seungcheol finally moved himself, scooting more onto his side.

You looked down at your pregnant belly and told your unborn child, “All that effort I put into moving him, and all he has to do is move himself?”

Huffing, you stood up and went to your closet, looking for an appropriate shirt to change into in order to go to the convenience store. In hindsight, you could probably have used your phone to order something, but the problem was you didn’t know what you were craving.

You knew that the baby was craving something, but didn’t know what. So, you decided that you were going to walk to the store and let the baby decide while walking through the aisles.

You rummaged through your clothes before going through Seungcheol’s side of the closet. As the pregnancy goes on, you’ve found yourself wearing more of Seungcheol’s clothes since they seemed to fit you better and were comfier than the maternity clothes that you never wore.

"What are you doing?"

You turned around in surprise to see Seungcheol standing, looking quite comfy in his pajama pants and a random old shirt. Being the one for dramatics (which you probably got from your husband), you put your hand on top of where your heart was. "You scared me! I think I almost gave birth then," you said.

He rolled his eyes and then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "What are you doing?" He repeated.

"Oh, I was gonna go to the convenience store. The baby wants to eat something," you told him.

"Can't the baby wait for the morning?"

"The baby wants to eat, now."

"Then why don't you order something?"

"The baby doesn't know what to eat," you sheepishly said.

He looked at you for a moment, before reaching behind you to grab a hoodie. "Fine, let's go," he said, turning to leave yours and his' bedroom.

"I'm fine on my own," you insisted.

"You're pregnant and it's two in the morning. I'm coming with you," Seungcheol said, before yawning.

"Cheol, you're barely awake enough to be coming with me. You need your sleep," you gently said, but he was stubborn.

"I'm suddenly hungry too, so I'll just come with you to buy some food," he said.

Once you and Seungcheol entered the convenience store, you were greeted by the quietness of the place and the single employee that was stood behind the cash register.

You looked around the aisles while your husband followed not too far away from you. "Choose what you want, I'll be paying," he instructed and you didn't bother to argue, considering he always insisted on paying.

Wandering around, you grabbed your favorite snacks, a couple ramen cups, and a few of Seungcheol's favorite foods. Realizing that you should've gotten a basket, you looked at Seungcheol, who seemed to be amused with your current predicament of full hands.

"Don't laugh, it's not funny!" you whined, but he only seemed to amuse further with your comment.

Wordlessly, he left the aisle to grab a basket. When he returned with the basket, you dumped everything in it, and he carried it while you walked around the aisles one last time.

After making sure you didn't want anything else, Seungcheol went to the register, with you waddling behind him.

"Was it worth it to ruin our sleeping schedules for this?" Seungcheol teased, and you nodded with a mouthful of ramen noodles.

He shook his head but opened his mouth and you put a chopstick with ramen noodles on it in his mouth. "Not bad," he said and you beamed at his compliment.

"Is the baby satisfied with the food?"

"Yep, and the baby is finally tired enough to sleep," you said.

Waddling to your bedroom, with Seungcheol not too far from you, you settled into your bed, and closed your eyes.

"Sweetie?"

"Yes, Cheol?"

"I can't sleep now,"

[murdrdocs]

personifying pussy; typical carm angst; angsty sex; MDNI 18+ w/ CARMEN BERZATTO

it's a cycle with carmy.

you're good, great, even. you gush about him to friends and family. you bring him out for bowling or wine tasting or something your friends suggested and you're so happy to go because you're happy to go with him. he makes time where he can. he laughs at your jokes and adds onto the bit. he makes dinner and hides his smile with his hand when you make dinner because you're really not a bad cook and his smile is one of fondness than mockery.

and then something happens. a nightmare or a thought that spirals or a memory and suddenly carmy is cold. he's the avoidant guy sugar talked about while he was in new york. he's the nuisance and new owner that tina and richie shit talked to you about when you came in for your usual. he's the neglectful partner sydney texts you about late at night before he returns home. and he's the boyfriend who's side of the bed is always cold and his mug is never used and his shoes are always gone from the rack.

you've gotten used to it. it's a cycle and it's one that's comforting. it shouldn't be, this shouldn't be your normal, but it is. and you're fine with that. because you don't want to lose carmy.

and because it's not always like that. it's never bad, just frustrating, even when you argue and his eyes are emotionless and your eyes are crazy as you throw your voices and throw your hands up in wild gestures.

it's not always like that. and even when it is like that, there are some benefits.

like when carmy comes home and you're awake, sitting in bed on your side, doomscrolling so bad that the action needs a new, more extreme name. you hear the lock, but it's night five into the more unfavorable part of the cycle so you stay in bed. you know—you think that carmy needs his space and you're prepared to give him that.

then the bed dips beside your feet and he sighs. he rests his hand over your ankle with nothing but the duvet and the bedsheet in between your respective warmth. he doesn't say anything, neither do you, but you've stopped watching the video on your phone. it has turned into nothing but white noise behind carmy's voice—soft and slightly broken—when he finally speaks.

"hey."

you click your phone off and look at him. "hey."

you notice he doesn't smell like cigarettes. you wonder if his breath will taste like the horrible gum he's been forcing himself to chew lately.

"i missed you." his admission comes first.

"i missed you, too." it makes it easier for you to tell him.

he's on you quickly. sturdy body hovering over yours, one hand pressed into the pillow and the other gripping your waist, dipped beneath the duvet.

he kisses you with all of the unspoken words from the past few days. he kisses you and it's like you can forgive him, even without a proper apology. because that's what you do, you put up with carmen berzatto's shit. and why? because you believe in him? because you love his family? because you hope he'll get better? because you love him?

maybe it's more simple than that. maybe it's because you need him. you need him to scratch the itch within you that you couldn't reach on your own. you need him to ignite the fire inside of you that only his probing and the sound of his yelling could do.

his rough hands tug your panties off and lift your sweatshirt over your head. you wonder if he notices that it's his sweatshirt. you wonder if he even cares.

it's not like he can focus or care about anything that isn't your body in the moments like these. your body as your legs part and welcome him in, even when you were talking to your mother during your lunch break about how distant and cruel he'd been lately. your body as your chest reaches for the sky and carmen interrupts it's path, his mouth coming down to lick around your nipples.

he's so good at this and it pisses you off. when you first got together, it was obvious that he was out of experience. but like everything else, carmy works as if he has something to prove. it's his motivator, the thing pushing him to become better and better at whatever he tries his hand at, even if he burns some bridges along the way.

he hasn't burnt the bridge between you two yet, which is the worst part of this all.

his promises come easier when he's fucking you. slow slides of his cock in and out in and out, your cunt squelching around him as if she's as appreciative to have him back as you are.

fucking you is always his apology. it's the easiest one for him. the one that keeps his tail untucked from between his legs and his ego still in check. after he's tweaked out in the middle of the living room over the smallest thing and snapped at you instead of dealing with the issue head on, he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses the side of your neck until you're open to bending over the counter.

after he brought his anger from the bear home and let it burn until everything else was scorched in its path, he finds you in the shower and slides his hands between your thighs.

and you always accept, because if he doesn't fuck the anger and sadness out of you, it'll never go away. if he doesn't apologize like this you don't think he'll ever apologize.

and that's why you sit and listen to his promises for things to be different. it's why you rake your hands through his tangled hair, undoing the tangles as best as your pleasure shook hands will allow.

"'m not ... i'm not doing this shit anymore, okay? it'll all be different. t...tomorrow. yeah. yeah. tomorrow." you don't even know how he's able to spit such bullshit when you're squeezing around him like this. but maybe that's how, maybe he's so lost up in the feeling of your perfect pussy—as he's called it on a few occasions—that he doesn't even know what he's saying.

it makes the most sense, especially when typically, tomorrow comes and he's just as cold as the day before.

he makes you cum quick, that's what distance will do to you. your leg hooked over his shoulder, your foot dangling uselessly up beside his head, while your other leg is wound around his waist, keeping him close to you. as soon as he brings his hand down to circle your clit, you're gone. your head is thrown back and your eyes are squeezed shut. your feet are flexing and pointing and your abdomen is pulled tight and relaxed. it's euphoria at it's finest. it's always like this. it's like a fucking drug, and unlike carmy with his nicotine addiction, you don't think you'll ever want to stop.

you don't ever want to stop, you know that for certain. so when carmy wakes you up a few hours later, not as early as usual and a quick reminder that it's saturday tells you why, you submit into him.

it's tomorrow, and maybe things will be different.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

just not home

words: 1k

warnings: rafe gets kicked out of his house, mentions of hooking up/friends with benefits but not explicit

taglist: @drewstarkeysbae @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @slut4drudy @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450

you groan and mentally curse whoever it is that is causing your phone to ring, waking you up from a pleasant dream. 

you grab it off the nightstand, briefly glancing at the contact name before answering, keeping your eyes partly closed as the screen causes you to squint, not adjusted to the light yet.

“rafe, it's late.” you say, not greeting him. “if you're calling to fuck, the answer is no. im too tired.”

rafe has a habit of hitting you up whenever he needs to release some tension. you were sort of friends, at least at first, but it all changed when you slept together once when drunk at a party, then repeatedly ended up in each other's beds until it became a regular thing.

“it's not that um… can i come over though?” rafes voice is softer than you're used to, and it causes you to shake off a bit more of the fog that the sleep has over your mind.

“what's wrong?” you question.

“nothing.” rafe says. you don't respond, waiting to see if he will volunteer more information, but it doesn't come.

“where are you?” you try instead.

“walking over to your house.” rafe says, and your ears then pick up the background noises, the cicadas and frogs in the distance. 

“why are you walking?” 

“my dad took the keys to my truck.” rafe explains. you sigh and switch the phone to speaker as you get out of bed, shivering when you throw back the covers and are exposed to the air. “he kicked me out.”

“ward did what?” you question, putting on a pair of crocs and heading out your bedroom door to find your purse and car keys.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “im sorry, y/n. i shouldn't have called, just go back to sleep.”

“hey, stop that.” you say, heading out the door once you have everything you need to drive. “im coming to pick you up right now, where are you?”

rafe responds with his location. you remain on the line as you drive, but stay quiet to focus on the road. even though there's no cars, you're not fully awake yet and need all of your brain power to focus on getting to rafe safely.

your heart breaks a little when you spot him, head hung low as he walks down the sidewalk. you pull your car to the side of the road, getting out and immediately pulling rafe into your arms, holding him close until he hugs you back.

“i didn't have anywhere else to go.” rafe whispers into your hair.

“it's okay.” you say, rubbing your hand over his back. “im glad you called.”

you pull away from the hug, seeing the look in rafes eye. above everything else, he looks tired, completely exhausted. you have never shared an kiss that didn't lead to or happen during sex, but you can't resist pressing your mouth against his pouty lips. rafe kisses back gently, and you can feel a bit of the tension leave his body as he does.

“come on, it's cold out here.” you tug at rafes hand, watching him sit down in your passenger seat as you round the car to drive you home.

you reach across the center console, linking your hands together. “do you wanna talk about what happened?” you ask.

rafe is quiet for a moment before he squeezes your hand, keeping his eyes on the road out the front windscreen instead of looking at you. “can we talk in the morning? im just so tired right now.”

“yeah.” you nod. “thats fine, rafey.”

you fall into comfortable silence on the way back home, keeping your hand in rafes, your fingers intertwined. it dawns on you that this is probably the most intimate moment you've had with rafe, despite having sex with him multiple times, it's this moment of innocently holding hands, no build up to anything more, just rafe needing you, and you giving him a physical connection.

you pull right up to your door, not bothering to care about your shitty parking job as one of your tires sits off your driveway and in the grass. you just want to get back in bed.

“ill leave first thing in the morning, i just needed a place to sleep.” rafe says as you head inside, making you turn to look at him.

“rafe, don't be ridiculous.” you sigh, feeling sad that he ever thought you would kick him out. “you can stay as long as you need.”

“thank you, baby.” rafe says, following you up the stairs. he pauses at the top, looking at the multiple bedroom doors.

“i can sleep in one of the guest bedrooms if you want.” he offers, and you scoff.

“we've shared a bed before.”

“after we've had sex, yeah.” rafe shrugs. “i just don't want you to be uncomfortable.”

“i think you owe me some cuddles after waking me up in the middle of the night.” you say, and rafe nods with a small grin, glad that you agreed, not wanting to be alone tonight.

you head towards your bedroom, shutting the door behind you after rafe enters. you climb into bed, your legs giving out the second you're back on your mattress.

“i don't have… any pajamas.” rafe sighs, looking down at his jeans and polo shirt.

“just wear your underwear. i don't care, just get over here.” you pat the open spot on your bed, managing to keep your eyes open and on rafe as he strips down to his boxers before getting into bed with you.

you cement yourself to his side, sighing softly when he wraps an arm around you, letting you rest on his chest.

“thank you.” he whispers.

“of course, rafe.” you press your lips against his bare skin, the best kiss that he's going to get out of you as you struggle to keep your eyes open. you fall back into a deep slumber as rafe gently strokes over your back, feeling comfortable and safe with your legs tangled together with his.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR THE MORNING AFTER *  adjust as necessary, nsfw implied

this... isn't my bed.

i'll make us breakfast.

wait, how long have you been here?

did you stay the night?

you're so beautiful like this.

did i give you that hickey?

don't get up. stay right here.

kiss me again.

nice bedhead.

are you... wearing anything?

this was a bad idea.

i've wanted to do that forever.

did you enjoy it?

i did a number on your back. sorry about that.

is this your shirt?

maybe you should go.

i had a great time.

if you stay, i'll make us coffee.

i shouldn't have stayed over.

come back here. please?

i've never been like that with anyone before.

there's a bra on the ceiling fan.

did we... actually...?

we could do it again, if you want.

you made me feel... incredible.

was it... okay?

you look beautiful in my bed.

what do you remember?

was i too loud?

you can borrow my shirt.

i guess this makes us more than friends.

this can't be happening.

i could spend the day just like this, right here with you.

is that a hickey?

this was just for fun. it doesn't mean we're together.

this wasn't supposed to happen.

should we talk about it?

what time is it? i'm late for work.

how long have you been awake?

i remember... everything.

we should do that again sometime.

i think we cuddled.

that was the best night of my life.

what parts do you remember?

why don't you stay for breakfast?

was it good for you?

the sex was great.

how do you like your eggs?

are we still friends?

sorry, i've got morning breath.

i'd really like to keep seeing you.

i'm glad i invited you in.

finally... fucking finally.

please don't leave the bed.

don't make fun of me if i walk funny.

this doesn't mean anything.

my friends are never going to believe this.

i don't even know who i was last night.

no one's ever taken care of me like that.

let me help you clean up.

maybe we should forget this even happened.

i'm just going to... leave.

you said some wild things last night.

you're wearing my shirt.

maybe we could make this a regular thing.

am i blushing? i'm blushing, aren't i.

where did i put my glasses?

your clothes are in the living room.

i need a shower.

your hair's a mess.

you make a great pillow.

i thought we agreed this would ruin our relationship.

did i do something wrong?

we were pretty loud.

do you want me to leave?

i asked you to stay the night.

i bet your neighbors hate us.

stay like this.

well, that's one way to bounce back.

what about round two?

don't let go of me.

why don't you join me in the shower?

we can't keep doing this.

we're fucked, aren't we.

how long have i been asleep?

i tried to keep feelings out of this. i really did.

[hitomisuzuya]

Stepcest. Don't interact if it makes you uncomfortable, please. Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Handjob. Fingering. Degradation.

Let's see how well my stepcest hits off with you guys 😳 I am probably going to make four or five companion pieces for this.

It was 2 o clock in the morning, and you couldn't sleep. Your stepbrother, Scaramouche was always on your mind lately. You knew you shouldn't have feelings for your stepbrother, but you couldn't help it.

Every time he even brushed up against you in the slightest, a tingle went up your spine. Your panties were constantly wet from thoughts of him.

Sighing, you got up out of bed, and poked your head out of your bedroom. You could see the TV on under the crack of the door. Scaramouche was still awake. You waffled around outside his bedroom door, turning to walk away twice before you raised your fist to knock on the door.

"What do you want?" You hadn't even knocked. He just knew you were out there.

"Are you still awake?" You asked softly, putting your ear to the door so you could hear him.

Scaramouche sighed. "What do you think?" He could see your shadow through the crack in the door. You were shifting your weight restlessly and probably fidgeting with your fingers to.

You took a deep breath before you spoke. "I can't sleep, can I get in bed with you?" Your heart pounded in your chest while you waited for his answer.

You swore you heard him laugh before the door opened. Truthfully, he'd waiting for the day his delicate little stepsister would ask to get in bed with him. "How childish," He said, motioning to the bed with a smirk on his face, one that sent a pleasant shiver up your spine.

You shook a little bit as you followed him over to his bed. You hesitated in front of the bed. Sighing, Scaramouche looped an arm around you, gently tugging you onto the bed. You made a soft noise of surprise.

He put your back against his chest. "What's wrong? You're suddenly so shy now?" He teased, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. You always smelled so good, he could never resist brushing up against you whenever he could, his fingers ghosting on your hips just to tease you.

Scaramouche knew the affect he has on you. He could never miss the adoring look of love you got on your face whenever you saw him. The look in your eyes alone seemed to beg him to ruin you.

You felt your cheeks flush from his teasing. "Hush you," You almost added that he smelled good, like pine.

You felt yourself curling into Scaramouche's arms as he put his blanket over you both, flustered feelings making you shift restlessly against him. You wanted to put your body up against his as much as possible without being obvious about it.

"Be still and sleep," He hissed in your ear. You tried, but you couldn't help it, especially since you felt his hardening cock up against your backside. Growling, he put a hand on your shoulder, rolling you over onto your back so fast it stunned you.

"All your moving around is making me hard," He snapped, swallowing back a groan. "Either close your eyes and sleep, or fix it." He ate up the way you looked at the tent in his sweats like you were actually considering it.

Blushing shyly, you reached down and brushed your fingers over his straining cock outside of his sweats. Scaramouche sighed impatiently. "Don't be such a tease," He raised an eyebrow when you looked at him. He sighed in relief when you pulled his sweats down off of his cock.

Your fingers shook as you wrapped your hand around his cock, giving it an experimental squeeze. He let out a shaky sigh, rutting a little into your hand. You pumped your hand a few times on his cock, precum leaking sticky onto your hand.

You squeezed the tip of his cock. "Fuck," He hissed, moving his hips up into your hand, "do that again, harder," You obliged him, pressing your thumb in circles around the tip. His eyes rolled into the back of his head.

You moved your hand down his cock, squeezing it before pumping your hand. Scaramouche opened his eyes for a moment to see such a concentrated expression on your face. You looked so determined to please him.

Since your parents were rarely ever home, Scaramouche didn't bother to hide his husky moans as your hand worked over his cock. His legs shook, bucking into your hand. "Shit, I am gonna cum," He groaned before warm cum spurted into your hand.

A pleased little smile tugged on the corners of your lips. You jacked him off through his orgasm, occasionally squeezing and rubbing the head of his cock like he liked.

"Lick it off your hand, whore," Scaramouche commanded, watching you with his indigo eyes dark with lust. The way you obeyed him without hesitation made him lick his lips. It made you seem so easily corruptible.

Now he knew he corrupt his stepsister to be a cock drunk slut for him.

When his hips rolled to a stop, he put his cock back into his pants and reached underneath the blankets to bat your legs apart. "Let me repay my sweet, little stepsister for making me cum so hard," He pushed your panties aside, rubbing his fingers over your throbbing clit. "Someone is wound up," He taunted when you started to moan.

You rolled your hips up needily, one of your hands folding into the sheets. You cried out when he pushed two fingers inside you suddenly, your back arching off the bed. He hooked and rubbed his fingers against your sweet spot. "Deeper please," You whimpered.

"Who would've thought my stepsister was such a fucking slut," He pulled his fingers out of you, examining them. They were soaked and shiny with your arousal. He looked at you while he sucked on his fingers. His eyes glinted excitedly. "You know I can hear you when you touch yourself at night, moaning my name while you pathetically try and stifle it behind your hand."

He rubbed your clit again, flicking it before plunging his fingers back inside of you. Your cheeks flushed from embarrassment, bucking your hips up into his fingers.

"Say it," He added a third finger, making your whole body tremble as he scissored your walls apart. "Tell me how badly you want to cum all over your stepbrother's fingers."

You could barely find any coherent words at first. The only thing you could do was moan with need. Scaramouche scoffed, nudging his fingers firm against your sweet spot. "Are you deaf or just dumb, slut? Did I stutter? I said speak!" He slammed his fingers inside of you. "You stuff your pretty hole with your fingers wishing it were mine, hm?"

"Y-yes, I do! I do! But I can never make myself cum," You babbled, bucking your hips faster as you felt your orgasm building up strong. "Only my step brother can make me cum. Please, please." You would tell him anything he wanted to hear if he would just let you cum hard on his fingers.

"What a pathetic slut," His purred degradation in your ear only made your walls clamp tighter on his fingers.

Sensing you were close, he fucked his fingers deeper into you. "Scaramouche!" You cried out before you squirted on his fingers. You were panting quietly, exhausted as he fingered you through your orgasm.

He rubbed your clit as you came down. "Open your mouth," He cut off your cry of protest. He shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you mewl happily as you choke on his fingers. "That's a good slut, taste yourself."

[churipu]

hii i hope ur midterms r going well !! ive binge read so many of ur work n js wanted to say theyre so amazing (´꒳`) i wanted a request for toji + any other character of ur choice x reader who stays up late n has difficulty sleeping (fluff),, thank u !! 🤍

𝗜𝗧'𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 𝗔𝗠 !

────── 𝕴 . featuring. toji fushiguro x reader

────── 𝕴 . warnings. cursing, and mentions of toji being soft, i love him.

note. hi nonnie! thank you so much, you're too nice to me, and yes, my midterms went well! it's been so long since i've done the requests in my inbox, which is the sole reason to why i have closed my ask box so i could finish them all! although, the next time i open them, i won't accept requests for a bit. sorry for those who have visited my inbox and have waited for a long time for your piece to be done. // anyways, new theme = new layout!

"why aren't you in bed?"

toji's voice came out hoarse — he cleared his throat and approached you, sitting himself on the couch despite his heart caressing his ears, pleading for him to go back inside the bedroom and just lay back down on the bed.

the cotton surface of the couch dipped just as he practically threw himself down on it, holding back a loud yawn. you raised a brow, shoving the spoonful of cereal you mixed with milk five minutes ago, just before toji emerged from your shared room.

small yellow chips of cereal that had grown soggy, seeping in the white tasteless liquid dispersed into a mush inside your mouth. they weren't even solid as they're supposed to be, "can't sleep, you?"

"you weren't there."

old habits die hard. that's how the saying goes, and you undeniably agreed to that. the night is an old friend to you, never did your eyelids felt heavy when you were supposed to be in bed, asleep. it's not healthy, you're killing yourself doing this.

"you're such a baby," you mutter out, staring into space, feeling your eyes slowly dissociate — jaw moving in a slow motion, biting into wet and mush before you swallow them.

"y/n, it's three am, y' can't keep doing this stuff," toji scratches his nape, leaning his head back onto the couch rest.

despite your eyes staring into nothing, you could hear his words pretty well. in fact, toji had repeated the same words countless of times that you found yourself engraving it into your mind, "i know, i can't sleep. i know it's not healthy, if i could stop it, i would."

"you're scooping nothing, y/n."

this time, his statement pulled you back into reality. looking down to see that you were indeed scooping no soggy cereal chip, nor a drop of milk onto your spoon. chuckling out lightly, you stood up and sauntered over to the kitchen, dumping what was left of your cereal pieces into the sink.

"you should go to bed," you tell him, wiping your wet hands onto your shirt — crumpling up the fabric to soak them in the access waterdrops lacing your fingers, "'ts late."

toji scoffs lightly, "shouldn't i be saying that shit to you?"

no mistakes there. you emitted out a soft sigh, "i'm fine, i'll be back in bed in a few . . ." toji raises a brow skeptically. he never forgot the last time you said that, he woke up alone on the bed — and you were wide awake on the couch, watching the morning news.

"hell no. it's two of us or nobody goes back to bed, 'm not kidding." he mutters out, not realizing how harsh his voice came out as.

brows furrowed deeply, he looks at you. your disheveled (h/c) hair going all point in a compass points, the visible dark shade of exhaustion coloring under your eyes — and the light creases on the corner of your beautiful, tired eyes.

"can you not?" you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose; honestly, you can't blame him at all, he's just a worried boyfriend and you were being stubborn.

"can i not what? worry about my own—" he stops mid sentence and shakes his head. toji was never a man of words, he doesn't express his affection to you through words. he's had moments, not a lot, but he's had them.

toji's a man of actions. he thinks that words mean nothing, which you knew, "'m tired, but i can't sleep, okay? i'll just hang out here a few more minutes and i'll come back to bed. you don't have to stay awake just because 'm awake."

"just shut up."

you stare at him, surprised. parting your lips, you try to speak again but toji beats you to it.

"can't i worry about you or something? you're my partner," he said, his then exhausted eyes now fully refreshed. a tinge of frustration coloring his greenish iris.

your eyes darted around for a bit, searching for words to spout out as a reply, "you don't have to worry about me, 'm fine. i promise. so, can you please just go to bed and stop worrying about me?"

"fuck that," he stands up, with heavy footsteps he darted towards you.

his figure grew in your view as he closes the distance between you and him. with a quick motion, he threw you over his shoulder, letting you dangle over his shoulder. at this point, you were too exhausted to even move a limb so you just laid there, not having the cell to even open your mouth.

toji walks over to the bedroom and he sat you down gently on the bed. on most occasions, he would throw you onto the bed playfully — but this was serious. he's pissed, and you're pissed.

"sleep."

you crane your neck upwards, face scrunching into one of annoyance, "i just told you that i can't—"

"try."

shaking your head, you said, "i can't, i've tried."

his finger brushed over your hair, smoothing them back down. he didn't reply to you. frankly, he finds it hard to be in the current position — as a kid, he was taught to never show his weakness. he grew up in a household full of so much hate that he forgot what love is.

here you were. vulnerable, in a weak state that toji has seen a lot before throughout your relationship. if this was anyone else, toji swore he'd tell them to suck it up because life isn't always what they think it ought to be.

but this isn't anyone else, it's you. y/n. the only person toji has showed his own vulnerable sides to — it's like a punch to his gut when he saw a bit of his younger self in you. he had nobody, and nobody had him.

it's different this time, it's not about him anymore. it's about you. you had him, and he had you.

toji inhaled sharply, his large hands slipping underneath your pits as he gently pushes you up. your feet dangled as he then pulled you into him, his right hand traveled onto the hollow of your back — and his left hand prepped your legs around his torso.

you felt like a child, "what're you doing?"

"shut up," he mutters out into the crook of your neck, "just try to get some sleep."

he pressed his lips onto your skin tenderly, making you shudder at the sudden contact — but you liked it. toji didn't stop, with an arm around your waist, and another under your thighs, he held you close to him.

warm and shallow breaths blew onto your skin like warm lights, it didn't tickle, you bury your head into the crook of his neck. copying his actions, "'m sorry."

toji grunted, "for?"

"just . . . everything," you murmur out.

his grip around your waist tightened, "'ts not somethin' to be sorry of, you can't control it. so just try and get some sleep," he muttered out, rocking side to side gently.

a faint smile appeared on your lips as you pulled your head back slightly, "you're too nice to me."

"don't get used to it," toji rolled his eyes.

"i love you too," you planted a kiss onto his lips briefly before returning your head into the crook of his neck, letting him lull you to sleep for the night.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE.