#like in other aspects fine is still worse

[yume-fanfare]

you guys are actually worse than fine at this

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A big part of author life is learning to make peace with the stories you'll never write.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

though i eventually got to read some, in earlier years goosebumps books would be the kind of series where i'd just ponder the cover art, and i always liked the drama of the monster blood illustration (the lighting/colors....sure nothing's happening in it but i felt it evoked the drama of "what if you're downstairs and something's upstairs" much like "what if you're upstairs and something's downstairs") like well too bad i guess i never got around to reading i at the time. but as of a recap yesterday i'm surprised to now be at least 90% sure i read part if not all of it, and thinking i hadn't may be due to how kind of nothing happens in it

[lilgynt]

i’m gonna blow my brothers up with my brain

[deliciousangelfestival]

I Hate It When You're Drunk - 2

Character: bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Summary: A forbidden love between a princess and her bodyguard. They love each other deeply, but their relationship is threatened by the tyrant king's oppressive rule and their differing social statuses.

I Hate It When You're Drunk Series Masterlist

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Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Good morning, Your Highness." One of your servants opened the heavy curtains of your bedroom.

"Morning." You groggily rubbed your eyes, slowly sitting up in bed. Your head pounded from the remnants of last night's alcohol. "What's my schedule today?" you asked, wincing as the bright light from the open curtains hit your eyes. Every movement felt like a struggle, your limbs heavy and your mind foggy from the overindulgence.

"We've made sure to clear it until noon because you're not in the best condition." Even the servants were used to your drunken state.

"Perfect." You sighed. With some effort, you got out of bed and started getting ready.

Your head still felt dizzy from last night's drinking. You shouldn't have drunk so much. What had triggered you to drink until blackout was seeing another of your friends getting married. You felt happy for her, but deep down, you were jealous because they could marry without any objections.

But your father is the king. And to make it worse, he's a tyrant king. He controls every aspect of your life, dictating whom you can and cannot love.

As you finished dressing and stepped out of your room, Bucky was waiting for you, as always. His eyes softened with concern as he saw you.

"Headache?" Bucky asked, his voice gentle.

"A little bit." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I went overboard again last night, didn't I? I'm sorry." You leaned your head against his chest, seeking comfort.

His fingers gently brushed your hair, soothing you. "Don't drink like that anymore," he said, his voice filled with a quiet pain. He hated seeing you hurt yourself like this.

You nodded, feeling a pang of guilt. Then, you took his hands in yours. "Let's go. We can't waste more time."

Bucky followed you, his grip firm yet tender. Walking hand in hand through the hallway was the longest moment you could be together like a real couple. This short walk was your favorite part of the day, a fleeting taste of the life you both wished you could have.

As you moved through the palace, the sun streamed through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The silence between you was filled with unspoken words and shared glances. Bucky's presence was a steady anchor in your tumultuous life, and these stolen moments were your refuge from the storm of royal duties and impossible expectations.

You squeezed his hand a little tighter, silently promising each other that, no matter what, you would always find a way to be together, even if only in these brief, precious moments.

But the moment ended when you entered the dining room. Bucky couldn’t join you; only royalty or invited guests were allowed. He had to stand outside. It was always difficult to let go of his hand.

"You need to eat," Bucky reminded you gently.

"Can’t we eat together?" you whined, a pout forming on your lips.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing in defeat. "Fine."

Suddenly, one of the guards interrupted, causing you to release Bucky’s hand. The guard greeted you and announced, "The king has returned."

"Okay," you replied. Then you realized the gravity of the situation and looked at Bucky, "Fuck. Wasn't he supposed to come back next week?"

Bucky immediately switched into professional mode. He spoke through his earpiece, issuing commands, "Prepare for the entrance."

The king had been on a world tour for conferences and the Olympics. While he was away, you had used the opportunity to be close to Bucky. But now, that had to end since your father was back.

After two hours, the entourage and the king arrived. As the princess, you had to welcome him at the grand entrance along with the ministers. While waiting, you kept glancing at Bucky, who stood far to your left. He looked strong and imposing, like a knight straight out of a storybook, his posture radiating vigilance and strength.

The horns blew, signaling the king's arrival.

"King Leonard Damon II has arrived!"

When the announcement was made, everyone bowed. The large doors opened, and the most important figure in the country stepped into the castle.

King Leonard Damon II was a man in his 50s. He looked dignified and confident, his presence commanding respect. His eyes, however, seemed lifeless, devoid of any warmth or feeling. It was understandable; he was known as the tyrant king.

Leonard acknowledged everyone with a curt nod, but his gaze lingered on Bucky for a brief moment before returning to you. It made your heart race.

"Continue with today's agenda," the king commanded as he walked, not pausing for rest despite just arriving.

You felt a sense of foreboding. Glancing at Bucky, you saw your worry reflected in his eyes.

As the king walked past, you couldn't help but feel the tension in the air. His return meant a return to strict protocols and the end of the small freedoms you had enjoyed. Your mind raced with possibilities, wondering what his sudden return would bring.

Bucky stood tall, his eyes following the king while staying alert to potential threats. His presence was a silent reassurance, yet you couldn't shake the unease in your chest. The king's glance at Bucky had been brief, but it carried a weight that made you anxious.

You straightened your posture, preparing to follow the day's agenda, but your thoughts were still with Bucky. You managed a small, reassuring smile in his direction before turning to follow your father.

👑👑👑👑

The meeting primarily involved discussing the results of the king’s world tour. The Veridian Economic Minister, Hugo, who had accompanied the king on the journey, excitedly explained, "Many foreign investors are interested in investing in our beloved country. It will boost the economy significantly."

"They won’t be taxed?" you interjected.

"Ahem, that’s right, Your Highness." Hugo was always startled whenever you spoke up. He glanced nervously at King Leonard, but the king didn't seem to mind his daughter interrupting the presentation.

"That's great," you continued. "But I hope that as Veridian's GDP rises, we will also support the younger generation who want to start their own businesses. We should offer small loans and assistance because they are the future pillars of our country."

As you spoke, everyone listened intently.

"I agree, Your Highness. I see that you've met with young entrepreneurs during our absence," Hugo remarked.

"It's good to see you engaging with them," King Leonard added.

Everyone nodded in agreement. "She’s perfect as the next ruler," Hugo commented.

"She only needs one thing: a spouse," someone interjected. The room filled with murmurs of agreement, but you flinched at the mention.

"I already have candidates in mind," King Leonard announced.

After his declaration, the room fell silent, followed by applause. "That’s wonderful. If it's King Leonard's choice, the person must be the best," the ministers echoed their support.

You sat there, your nails digging into your thighs, looking at your father with a mixture of anger and frustration, your eyes burning with unshed tears.

👑👑👑👑

Everyone left after the meeting was over except you and the king.

You fixed your gaze on Leonard, who appeared unruffled, as he always did in moments of confrontation. His posture was relaxed, almost casual, as he lounged back in his ornate chair, fingers steepled in front of him.

His eyes, cold and calculating, never wavered from your face as if he could read every thought passing through your mind.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence like a knife.

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his gaze bearing down on you. Slowly, deliberately, you spoke, your voice steady despite the turmoil. "I already said that I won’t get married unless it’s Bucky."

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Leonard's face, gone as quickly as it appeared. His lips curled into a half-smile, devoid of warmth or amusement. "Over my dead body," he replied coolly, the threat underlying his words unmistakable.

"Should I take your life first so I can be with the man I love?" you retorted, your voice shaking with emotion.

"My child," he said, leaning back in his chair with a casual air, the leather creaking softly under his weight. He studied you with a cold, almost amused detachment, his fingers lightly drumming on the armrest.

"You’re not a killer like me," he continued, his voice smooth and unyielding.

The word 'killer' sent a shiver down your spine. Because it was true, you were different from him. The reason why King Leonard Damon II was called the tyrant king was because he was a cold-blooded killer.

Leonard had killed his own siblings to secure the throne. He felt no remorse after taking their lives. Not just relatives, but also anyone who objected to him being king. This included the family of the queen, his own wife, your mother.

"Do you hate Bucky because of what happened to my mother?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Leonard fell silent, then hurled his glass of wine across the room. "Never mention that woman."

"There’s no evidence that she ran away with her bodyguard," you insisted. This was the kingdom's biggest secret. Outside the castle walls, everyone believed the queen had died of illness. But the truth was, she was missing. You didn’t know if your mother was alive or dead.

You understood why your mother might have run away from your father. He never acted violently towards her, but his actions against her family made her hate him. She had never wanted to be a queen. One day, she vanished, and her guard also went missing a few days later.

Leonard became obsessed with finding his wife. He spared no expense, sending out the kingdom’s most skilled trackers and investigators to scour the land. Despite their efforts, every lead turned cold, and every trail went nowhere.

You rubbed your forehead, feeling the weight of your family's complex dynamics. "If I’m not married, will you still pass the throne to me?"

The lack of an immediate answer gnawed at you, amplifying the uncertainty of your future. You knew your father’s mind was a labyrinth of ambitions and schemes, where even the most straightforward question could hide layers of strategy. His silence spoke volumes, a testament to his unwillingness to relinquish control or reveal his true intentions.

"Father?" you prompted.

Finally, Leonard spoke, his voice measured and devoid of warmth. "Maybe. Perhaps after 10, 15 years," he said, his tone betraying no hint of reassurance.

You hadn’t expected this. "I should’ve known. You never planned to make me a queen," you said, feeling a surge of despair. Without becoming queen, you couldn’t marry the man you loved.

Leonard's face remained expressionless, his eyes cold and unyielding. The tension in the room was palpable, and you felt a mix of anger and hopelessness. Your dreams of a future with Bucky seemed to slip further away with each passing second.

Your father’s silence spoke volumes. He had always been calculating and ruthless, willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his own power. The realization that he never intended for you to rule cut deep.

You clenched your fists, trying to steady your breathing. "So, my fate is to remain a pawn in your game?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard stood up, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "You will do as you are told, for the good of the kingdom," he declared, turning to leave.

As he walked away, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. You were trapped in a gilded cage with no way out. Your love for Bucky seemed destined to remain unfulfilled, crushed under the weight of your father's tyranny.

When Leonard reached the door, he paused and looked back at Bucky, who had been waiting outside. "Remember your place," he said coldly before exiting the room, leaving you alone with your tumultuous thoughts and fears.

Bucky’s grip tightened as he watched the king leave. Once Leonard was out of sight, he rushed to your side. As he entered, his eyes immediately found you already on the ground, knees pressed against the cold stone.

Shock mingled with concern in his eyes as he took in your tear-streaked face, your eyes red and puffy from crying. Seeing you in such distress tore at his soul. He wished he could shield you from the pain, protect you from the harsh realities that surrounded your life.

"Hey," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "I'm here." His words were simple but carried a world of comfort and unwavering support. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender and gentle.

Seeing your pain, Bucky's heart ached. What had the king said to you?

Without a word, you collapsed into his arms, your body trembling. He held you close, his strong arms enveloping you in a protective embrace. You buried your face in his shoulder, your sobs muffled against his uniform.

"Oh, Bucky, what should I do?" you cried, your voice breaking.

Bucky gently stroked your hair, his hand moving in soothing circles. "Shh, it's going to be alright," he whispered, though he knew the words felt hollow. His own heart was heavy with the knowledge of the king's cruelty.

A/N: Did you enjoy Chapter 2? What would you like to see in the next chapter?

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[fxtalitygod]

X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

Love.

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

@littlemochi @mistalli @youngbeansprout @bbylime @bangtan-forever1479 @idktbhloley @izayas-rings @o3o-aya @pyschopotatomeme @persephonehemingway @otomaniac @meforpr3sident @fourcefulcupid @nezuscribe @my-simp-land @zukuphilia @niya729 @spiritofstatic @bbittersw33t @kashasenpai @decaysan @honeybaegle @ygslvr @outrofenty @esposadomd @ali2426 @anmath @yazzzmints @lovingnahida @sincerest-one @rosemaydone321 @j0dios @k-ki3rd @maki-zenin1944 @shadowywizardarcade @ae-mius @xiangping-28 @loaves4me @aloraaaxcrystalzx

[erika-xero]

Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

[neversetyoufree]

The way Noé Archiviste is written is so good. I'm so obsessed with him.

He's such a protagonist—endlessly hopeful against adversity and filled with kindness and attempted understanding toward everyone he meets. He's a good person! He wants to save everyone! He is genuinely and utterly without any sort of cruelty or unfair bias.

Yet, the more the series goes on, the more he's written as a very obvious parallel to our antagonists.

The most blatant example of this is the Ruthven parallel. Ruthven once happily said that he liked vampires, and in the same way, he liked humans. Noé repeats this exact same line when he has tea with Ruthven.

This parallel doesn't reflect too poorly on Noé, since it's pretty clear that something Happened to Ruthven to change him between his speaking that line and him becoming our antagonist, but it is an interesting way to tie the two of them together. It raises certain questions in readers' minds. In what other ways are Noé and Ruthven still similar, and how might Noé change to become more like him?

Then there's Noé's toxic optimism. The "you should be a little bothered, actually" aspect of him. Noé is the mirror to Vanitas's toxic pessimism. He latches onto the good in the world to a fault, and in this way he detaches from reality and endures an endless series of abuses to his person without even understanding they're abuses.

That is also one of the defining traits of Mikhail. Misha is unsettling in part because he is completely detached from any understanding of severity. Misha happily recounts being abused and watching his mother die not because he's cruel or hateful, but because he doesn't understand what's happened to him or why those things are bad. Misha wants to bring Luna back to life because he's in denial of the reality of their death. He believes he can just resurrect them and everything will be fine, and he'll get to play happy family again.

If Noé went just a little bit more extreme with the over-optimism, he could disconnect from reality just as badly as Misha has.

Finally there's my favorite parallel—the tie between Noé and his Teacher. Noé Archiviste has a tendency to watch others in fascination, trying to figure them out from the sidelines while he fails to understand his own impact on them, and he absolutely loves the Blue Moon. He thinks the Blue Moon is beautiful. Teacher spends his time collecting interestingly damaged children in putting them in awful situations, apparently just for the fun of watching what they'll do next, and he calls The Vampire of the Blue Moon "the most beautiful creature in the world."

Noé's curiosity-driven fascination with Vanitas's trauma and his love of the blue moon—neither of these are necessarily a problem on their own, but when written in direct parallel with The Count of Saint Germain, they become somewhat alarming.

In the same way that Misha is "worse" than Noé because his obliviousness to his trauma leads him to harm others, Noé's teacher is surely a worse person than him because he lets himself harm others in pursuit of his interests. Noé doesn't do that. But what would it take for that to change? He's pushed boundaries before. He learned to hurt Astolfo and Misha in the name of protecting those he cares about. What other strange places could his headstrong nature lead?

What might Noé do when his fascination and his obliviousness intersect? When the parts of him that are Teacher and the parts of him that are Misha overlap? What would he do to see Vanitas again? What might he do without letting himself realize how terrible it was?

Noé is a good person. He's one of the best people. But in his attentiveness and his optimism and his love, there's the seeds of something that could lead him down a very dark road. Each of the above antagonists is a little bit a part of who he is.

Misha wants to bring Luna back to life. Ruthven is working toward some mysterious aim with the dead or dying Faustina. And given how he talks in mémoire 55, I wouldn't be surprised if Teacher also had an interest in bringing back The Vampire of the Blue moon in one form or another.

In all his fascination and love and hope, would/will Noé be able to let Vanitas die when death is preferable to the alternative? This is a story about the inevitability of death, and the denial of that inevitability creates nothing but horror and perversion. Noé is growing and learning to understand both Vanitas and the moral complexities of the world, and we can only hope that he learns enough. We can see through his many reflections in other characters what he might become if he can't accept painful reality.

[coldwind-shiningstars]

my recent surgery will hopefully help my bladder/bowel stuff so lately I have been thinking about continence a lot, and the ways it is so important to me that we talk about it frankly and openly and the reasons why it is so difficult for people (including me) to do so. and I think there are a few different sides to the shame that comes with talking about it that are differently important?

there's the TMI aspect ("nobody needs to hear that!") where even if you're presenting information in a very educational, straightforward way people think of it as much too personal. and I think if your personal sense of privacy works such that you don't feel comfortable talking about these things you should listen to that and not talk about it, but if someone is offering information, even if you personally decide you don't want to hear it don't make disparaging comments about their choice to share it? I also think sometimes people overcorrect -- over the years I've had many conversations about continence when talking about disability and also disabled fictional characters and a number of years ago a friend told me that they were interested in exploring it but were afraid it was voyeuristic, and while I think it can be and there's a lot to criticize about the culture of "tell your entire medical details to the internet" it's not inherently more voyeuristic than other aspects of disability.

there's a disgust reaction which I also think is valid and reasonable to have, a lot of people have cleanliness related triggers etc, but again that's not the fault of the person actually talking about continence? everyone uses the bathroom. you can be polite and make your own choices about what you want to see and learn about but people should not stop talking about these things just in fear that someone else will find it disgusting

and, on the other end, there's the kink aspect which is the exact opposite problem. I want to be clear that I think kinks are morally neutral, if you have a piss/scat kink that's fine, you do you. but I also find myself worrying, when I talk about it, that people will think I'm speaking from a place of Being Horny For It instead of a place of "this is an important aspect of disability for many people." this aspect is worse when I'm speaking fictionally/fandomwise, and of course that's much less important than when I'm talking about Real Life Stuff, but I don't like feeling like I need to preface things with "I Have Incontinence Myself" because I don't think you need an experience yourself to write it compassionately or well and I don't like Telling My Business To Everyone On The Internet. there's a dialectics! moment where I genuinely believe there's nothing wrong with kinks but it's exhausting that that's the primary people talking about something like this, and also again I want what I say to be engaged with seriously.

anyway it's really tiring to me how even in a lot of disability spaces it feels like incontinence is still either shameful, a kink, or a joke. I'm tired of diaper jokes about people you don't like, I'm tired of one-off gags, I'm tired of "ewww" or "TMI!" as reactions. many MANY people have incontinence issues, and the shame around them really does prevent a lot of people from getting help for them! I want it to be something we can talk about

[eevees-hobbies]

Heloo I just read your post about the bold reader and I was like HSKFMMSDKDK

can I request hayato suo with the reader who can make him flustered and put on in his place?? Like she leads the relationship? Thank you!! Nsfw or sfw is fine:3

Authors Note: Hi, Anon! I wanted to take my time thinking about this specific scenario because while I don’t consider myself a Suo girlie, I love writing for him, and I’ve grown to love the version of him that I’ve crafted. I probably have him one degree away from being a Yandere, if we’re being honest. Anyway, I’m turning this into a thirst response for now. Still, I also might continue this at some point because it deserves the time and respect to dive deeper into the complex relationship that Reader has with Suo.

Also, my friend Evie did an excellent job encapsulating a similar ask using her style, and I can’t recommend that piece (and everything else she makes) enough. 

Let’s get into, babe 💕

Content Warning: Fem! Reader x Hayato Suo. Teasing, dirty talk, fem! receiving oral, obsession, overstimulation, hands-free orgasm. Minors Do Not Interact

Word Count: 1.1K

Control is paramount to Suo’s identity as he’s very well aware of what happens when he loses control: people can get seriously hurt or worse. So it’s essential for Suo to remove any variables that might compromise his cool—and sometimes detached—demeanor. He keeps people at arm's length with ever-changing stories and blatant lies, and it works because no one has come close to cracking the mystery that he is.

But the variable he couldn’t control for? You. 

At first, he found himself avoiding you. You brought out feelings within himself that he’d always try to swallow like bile threatening to come up. Vulnerability? Good for others but not for him. 

When he couldn’t avoid you because you were absolutely everywhere—you weren’t everywhere, you two just have a gravitational pull towards each other like a planet to its moon—he found himself increasing his meditation. 

He’d close his eyes, willing himself to breathe, clear his mind, and…there’d you be. As clear as day in his mind's eye with your sweet smile, the sound of your infectious laughter that makes his heart flutter, and your intoxicating smell. 

As soon as you started to permeate his thoughts, even during the sanctuary of his meditation sessions—something that had never happened before—he knew he was a goner.

And if someone affects you this badly, they have to be yours, right? It would be absurd to see you with any of the imbeciles that pine after you. He almost laughs himself silly at the thought of them thinking they have a chance with you: his love, his moon, his reason for breathing, his everything. 

If you’re familiar with my work, you’ll know how I describe your intimacy with Suo. He’s a pure pleasure dom; if you’re not coming undone on his tongue or fingers until you’re a sobbing and begging mess, well, he simply has to try harder, and Suo has the stamina to back that threat up. 

He considers himself an expert of you, your body, and what makes you cum so intensely that his well-equipped arsenal of depravity has you doing your damnest to crawl away from him and to safety.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you, Dove. Now get back here and spread your legs like a good girl.”

And you’re into it because Suo is your type of crazy—what you two have simply wouldn’t work if that weren’t the case. If a man isn’t obscenely infatuated with you, is he really your man, am I right? 

But sometimes a girl likes to be in control, ya know? And outside the bedroom, you have Suo wrapped around your finger. You say jump, and he asks if you want him to do a backflip on his way down. You use that sweet little voice to ask him for a kiss? He’s on top of you in an instant—and even to Suo, an instant isn’t quick enough. So, while he may have control in every aspect of his life, you are a dangerous variable that supersedes his free will.

But inside the bedroom? He’s much less willing to let you take the reigns; in fact, it might even be a point of contention initially. As you reach for his waistband, you underneath him entirely naked, and he, fully clothed as he comes up from between your thighs, preparing to plant a kiss on your luscious lips; he stops you as your finger coils around the elastic, silk fabric of his pants.

“What are you doing? This is about you.”

So, in what scenario will he finally let you take over? If you ask nicely, bat your eyelashes and use your sweet, honey-coated voice, perhaps, but that’s not always guaranteed to work. 

The best chance of getting what you want? When Suo has been working at your pleasure for hours, so much so that his cock is twitching in his pants, eyes shrouded with dark, swirling shadows of desire, and he’s ready to ruin you by sinking into you—he’s uncharacteristically more easily influenced in this state. He’ll do anything you say because, god, he just wants to feel you in any way he can; lips wrapped around his cock? Yes, please. Deep in your silken, cum saturated guts? God, please don’t make him beg because he just might. 

So when you tell him to lay down for you, and he falls backward onto the bed without questioning your intentions, you can finally have your way with him. 

And as you hover over his face, flirting your swollen pussy lips over his hungry mouth, ruby-toned eyes staring—pleading—up at you between the warmth of your plushy thighs for a taste, you’ll know that you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Eat my pussy again like a good boy, Hayato, and maybe I’ll touch your cock.”

His breath will hitch because fuck he loves when his sweet girl talks filthy like that, and as his tongue once again dives into your folds—his licks desperate—he’ll buck his hips into the air imagining the feel of your pussy—his pussy—wrapped around his dick.

And if you continue to talk to him like he’s a plaything for you—like his pleasure is an optional afterthought at best and unnecessary at worst—until you get what you want in a tone that almost sounds like you’re above him? His eyes are rolling back, and his hands are clawing at the sheets under him.

“Suo, I just want to fuck your tongue with my pussy all night. Will you let me, baby? Let me use your tongue to cum?”

“Y-yes, baby, use me, please. I’m yours to have.”

And before you know it, at some point between the licks, the whimpers (from him), and his bucking into the air, he’ll groan into your cunt because that intense feeling that he was so desperately trying to stave off finally washed over him and he just couldn’t help himself. You’ll look behind you, eyes bright with amusement and something a bit more sinister, as you watch geyser upon geyser of cum shoot from his hiccuping, over-sensitive cock until his seed smothers his well-groomed pubic hair, abs, and puddles beneath him. 

You’ll be so proud of yourself for reducing the Hayato Suo into a hands-free orgasmic mess. 

But here’s a warning: Suo will only be more insatiable after that, flipping you over with ease, making you wonder how in control you truly were, and after a heated kiss to your lips and feeling his already hardening cock dragging against your folds, you’ll be right back to where you started: at the mercy of someone who thinks that pleasure is infinite.

[dotster001]

Labor Simulator

A sequel to Period Simulator *

Summary: Malleus/Crewel/Crowley/Rook/Vil/Idia x gn! Reader. The boys try a labor simulator.

Requested by @stygianoir and @ase-kjaere

3k follower Masterlist

* it was given a community label by the idiot Tumblr gods, and I don't know how to fight it. Just know, it's not a mature fic

When you come in with the machine, he looks up from whatever it is he's doing, and fixes you with a death glare.

He didn't even try the period simulator, why would he try labor simulator?

Get the fuck out. He has to think about this relationship. Don't worry he won't actually break up with you over this. He just wants you to feel bad

Look, you know labor is worse than cramps. But after he was such a champ with the period simulator, you think everything will be fine.

And you easily forget he's still a hot headed youth, not that much older than you, so you don't think much of it when he takes it from you, and puts it on immediately, telling you to do your worst.

You think you're the one who put him through this. But honestly, you're completely innocent. He's a silly, silly guy. With a big ego, and something to prove. Not to you, don't worry it's not your fault.

And he starts out fine. But by the end of it all, he's crying. Your cool, collected boyfriend is crying. So you turn it off, and hold him the way he holds you when you're sad. In the end, you end up feeding a part of him he didn't realize was starving.

Unlike Crowley, he might actually break up with you. He is not going to go through hours of "contractions", sweat through his makeup, and sob and scream like a baby just because you thought it might be funny.

The only way to save your relationship is to toss the machine to the side, and be like, "JK lol ha ha I would never have meant it literally :)"

As we previously discussed, he bought it himself, and pulled it out seconds after you took the period simulator off.

Why are you like this? Seriously, babe, you don't need to experience every aspect of life to appreciate true beauty! Ok. Ok fine.

So you put it on him, and start to do different levels to simulate different parts of labor. Only, just like before, he wants to roleplay. He'll grab your hand and hiss at you to be his breathing coach.

Things that'll happen while he makes you continue the exercise- he'll name your imaginary children (he's having triplets), he'll decide what school they are going to, he'll pause the simulation and teach you how to be a better breathing coach, he'll teach you how to give him an epidural (do not give it to him!), he'll teach you how to help deliver triplets, he'll try to teach you how to do a C section

Stop him, for the love of God, stop him. You'll have to literally fight him, but if you don't, he's putting a scalpel in your hand….

It was his idea! Human birth is fascinating to someone who came from an egg!

But, again, he comes up on the tragedy of the machine bursting into flames once he comes into contact with it. So, again, he finds a potion that would simulate-

Sebek kicks the potion out of his hands. He's been waiting for this ever since the previous incident, and he will not, I repeat, he will not allow his lord to put himself through an artificial human pregnancy!!!!!!!!

You'll have two faes angrily trying to get you to help them. On the one hand, one is your boyfriend, and you want to do whatever it takes to make him happy. On the other hand, the other is Sebek.

Choose wisely.

He totally didn't cry on the period simulator. And he totally didn't delete the footage in Ortho's data bank, and he totally didn't also wipe his memory of the moment. He'd delete your memories of it too if he could, he's looking into how to do it.

So if you challenge him, and tell him about a labor simulator, he's going to do it! By the sevens, he is going to succeed!

Cries immediately. You only have it at pain level three, and he's already backing out. Ortho says you should keep it going because it would be good for him to learn not to do things he isn't capable of. Idia will once again be deleting Ortho's memory files.

[neiptune]

and love me if that's what you wanna do

cw: 1.3k wc, suggestive, female reader, sex with feelings, mentions of hickeys/bruising, idk what to tell you he's my golden man and i love him so

“You’re beeing creepy”

The groan Shoyo emits almost makes you break into a smile, eyes still shut as you hear him scoot a little closer.

“How did you know?” despite not seeing it, you can envision his pout all the same.

“I can feel your eyes on me, creep” you feign disapproval. He huffs, as always encouraged by the lack of authenticity in your annoyance.

“Don’t be unfair” despite still being heavy with sleep, Shoyo’s mumur in such close proximity succeeds in giving you goosebumps “not my fault my girl’s so pretty” his thumb traces your jaw with a soft touch. Your heart beats a little faster, still having a hard time adjusting to a charm so innate.

“Shoyo” you warn but he’s already burying his face in the curve of your neck, nose grazing your skin.

“I know, I know” he petulantly clicks his tongue “but don’t I get to claim you a little after last night?”

With a sigh, you can’t help the way your hand reaches into his copper curls to absentmindedly scratch his scalp, a content hum rumbling in his chest at the touch, imposing arm further curling around your waist.

Hinata’s always reckless like that, dangerously dancing around the edge of a precipice that could turn your lives upside down if you as little as took a peek downwards. You can hear it in his voice each time, how he doesn’t want to claim you only for one morning. The way he’d be ready to toss away the stupid occasional hookup for something different, for more, he’s always hungry for more in every aspect of his life.

“Shoyo” you playfully tug at the tangerine strands and feel che curve of a smile against your neck “we have to get up”

“Not really” he continues his ministrations, slowly sponging kisses over your shoulder “we don’t have to do anything. In fact, we could very well never leave this bed again”

“Your team and a consistent part of the country would probably have my head”

“You could have head too, all you have to do is ask”

“Hinata”

A quiet laugh shakes him.

“Fine, put the government name away” a pause, you can feel each tense tendril enveloping it  “are you still coming today? I said I’d bring a friend”

“Will they believe I’m a friend?”

He props himself up on one elbow, golden eyes ever so slightly hidden by tufts of ginger curls the first thing you see as you finally peel your own eyes open. There’s hesitation in his stare, mischief laced into the smile tugging at his lips, but there’s also candor in his reply.

“They may not but I promise it’s what I told them”

You roll your eyes. Who could even believe you’re just friends when he can’t keep his hands to himself ever? They’re always glued to you somehow, whether you’re strolling through the grocery store or helping a tourist asking for directions. It’s like Hinata fears you’ll drift away if he doesn’t make sure you’re anchored to him shomehow. A hand on your shoulder, an arm around your waist, fleeting touches that never leave the small of your back or legs neglected.

And yet Shoyo never oversteps, always makes sure to respect your boundaries and your wishes. If anyone assumes you’re a couple, he’s quick to politely correct them. At the slightest hint of discomfort on your side, he takes a step back and busies himself with any other activity at hand. It’s why your heart painfully squeezes whenever you look into those big, bright eyes of his. It makes you feel as if you’re wasting his time, or worse, tricking him into entertaining a relationship that’s not really a relationship. Because of course you like him. But you’re not Shoyo, never scared of anything anymore, always ready to wear his heart on his sleeve. You’re firm in your belief that he could do better but are still selfish enough to relish in his warmth, for as long as he’s willing to give it to you.

“What?” he lightly pokes your cheek, amused, and you realize you’ve been staring.

“Can I kiss you?”

Hinata chuckles, cheeks warm as they always get when you timidly let some vulnerability leak through that stubborn facade of self-restraint.

“You never have to ask” with tenderness, he cups your jaw with one of his giant, warm hands, and cranes his neck to press soft lips to yours. It’s light, feathery but firm, tongue mildly prodding at the parting of your lips but never pushing in despite you giving him access. Shoyo wants you to remember these moments, the mornings he spends adoring you, the conversations late at night when you’re both too out of breath to fall asleep. He wants you to come back to instances when his sheer devotion shines through, hopes to seal how he actually feels into your skin and mind.

“We really have to get up” you whisper into his mouth before pulling away, pretend not to notice how his hand lingers on your face, thumb fondly grazing the corner of your lips “I don’t want to be late the first time I’m meeting your friends”

“They won’t care” he shrugs off your concerns but knows the perfect bubble he could spend an eternity trapped within has been popped.

“I will” you grin, peck his lips one last time before swinging your legs over the edge of the bed.

“You’ll also get mad” his pretty face contorts in… mirth? Like a kid who knows is about to get caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Mad? At your friends? Why, are they sexist or somethin’?” you haphazardly slip into one of your comfy house dresses and shuffle to the bathroom, more or less convinced you still have some makeup to take off before hopping in the shower.

The reflection that stares back at you in the mirror is nothing short of horrifying. Still in bed, Shoyo gnaws at his bottom lip, awaiting a screech that sure enough explodes right away.

“Hinata!”

“I’m sorry!” he screams back, laughter barely contained as he realizes it’s best to get up too, in a silly attempt at containing your nerves.

“You’re sorry? I can’t go out like this! I look like I need to be rushed to the fucking hospital!” you cry out and his reflection, now staring at yours in the mirror, has the nerve to giggle.

“It’s not that bad!” he awkwardly scratches the back of his head “I didn’t notice I, uh, overdid it”

“You didn’t notice you went fucking Edward Cullen on me?!”

“Technically that’s not a good comparison, he doesn’t really bite her until the fourth-”

“Oh god, shut up!” you whine, stepping closer to the mirror to get a better look at the mess that is your neck. They’re just everywhere. Scattered just beneath your jaw, along the column of your throat, a couple on the side of your neck in intimidating hues of purple and maroon. They hurt.

“How about wearing a turtleneck?” he hopes the suggestion placates your fury but it only seems to fuel it.

“It’s 104 degrees outside”

“I’m sure some concealer…”

“Concealer isn’t going to do shit, it looks like I hooked up with goddamn Dracula” you almost stomp your foot in frustration and Hinata can barely contain the proud grin threatening to stretch his lips. He steps closer, wraps his arms around your waist and lets you deflate against his chest instead.

“I’m sorry” he murmurs into the crown of your head, eyes catching yours “you don’t have to come. I’ll tell them you couldn’t make it”

Unhappy, you lean into his touch. “But…”

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to meet them” the confession comes out quietly, just as you avoid his piercing gaze in the mirror. Shoyo swears his heart grows in size as his arms wrap a little tighter around you.

“Let me take care of this, then” he murmurs into your hair and you observe him for a moment too long, the way his tan, toned arms compliment your frame a dangerous thought you whisk away.

If his friends think it’s weird that you’re wearing a silk scarf at lunch, they’re considerate enough to never point it out.

[venusacrossthestars]

a choice I can live with

Summary: you thought that after that night in Monaco you would never see Carlos Sainz again. but what do they say? when one door closes another door opens.

Pairing- Carlos Sainz x fem!reader

WC-10,182

warnings- swearing, making out, it gets a little hot and heavy towards the end, angst, Lando is more of an ass than he was in part one, reader is in her feels, the word slut is used.

this is a part 2 to 'a choice I don't want to make' read it HERE before reading this part

F1 masterlist

December 2021

You didn't like this foreign feeling that was settled in your stomach. All you were trying to do was pick out a movie while your popcorn cooled down, so why did it all feel so wrong? Sighing, you turned off the TV and placed the remote on the coffee table. It was Lando’s turn to pick the movie. The thought washed over you like a tidal wave. Suddenly the aspect of having a movie night no longer sounded appealing. Picking up the popcorn bowl from the coffee table, you walked over to the trash can and threw away the popcorn. Just like 15 years of friendship.

You plopped back down on your couch, sinking into the cushions. The last time you had seen Lando had been that night in Monaco; the last time you had any contact with him was when you sent him that text the following morning. That was in May. You knew that he saw your message, the taunting little ‘read’ underneath had only made you feel worse. As if it wasn’t the consequences of your own actions.

The past 6 and a half months had been miserable. Every time you had exciting news you found yourself thinking- ‘I can’t wait to tell Lando!’ only to remember that you couldn’t. You could barely talk to your own mother without feeling more guilt over the situation. You could feel her disappointment through the phone. As your mother, she was on your side, she told you as much, but it wasn’t without a disappointed sigh. 

You had other friends, you had a world that didn’t revolve around your now ex-best friend but sometimes it didn’t feel like it. However, the couple of times that you had braved stalking Lando’s socials you couldn’t help but feel as if he never needed you. Maybe that was the truth. 

You could face Lando’s socials, and you could manage the tweets and comments you saw about him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to check Carlos’s. Maybe it was the fear of seeing that he moved on. Maybe it was that he seemed perfectly fine. That was something you were comfortable staying in the dark with. 

A knock on the door startles you out of your pitiful self-deprecating spiral. You silently groan, it was too late to be dealing with people. Maybe it was one of your neighbor's friends who got the numbers mixed up and if you stayed silent they would realize. The universe must really have it out for you because the knocking continued, louder and more insistent than before. Getting up, you shuffled to the door taking a quick peek through the peephole. The face on the other end had you quickly undoing the chain and unlocking the deadbolt. 

“Carlos?” 

“Hi.” Is the only thing that Carlos says. 

You rub your eyes, making sure that he wasn’t an illusion, that you haven’t gone mad in these past months. When you bring your hands away from your eyes and re-open them, Carlos is still there standing in front of you with a bouquet of white tulips.

Carlos breaks the silence, “These are for you,” he holds out the bouquet, “I was told that white tulips represent an apology and forgiveness.” 

“Forgiveness?” You parrot back, not taking the flowers. Why is giving you flowers that represent an apology and forgiveness? “What are you apologizing for?” 

Carlos rocks back and forth on his heels, ignoring your question, “Can I come in?” 

You move away from the door frame and hold the door wider allowing for Carlos to enter. Embarrassment washes over you as you come to the realization that this is the first time Carlos has been in your flat, and while it didn’t look like a total disaster, you certainly wish it was cleaner. 

“What are you apologizing for?” You ask again. 

Carlos spins to face you, “Do you have a vase for these?” 

“Carlos,” you try again, “what are you doing here?”

Carlos wanders towards your kitchen, “Like I said, I am here to apologize.” He waves the flowers around. 

“What are you apologizing for?” 

“All of it. For letting Lando talk to you like that. For letting you leave with him. For letting you walk away that night on the roof. For not responding back to your text. I’m mostly sorry for how long it took me to come see you, to come talk to you.” 

“Carlos, you don’t need to apologize. For any of it.” 

“It takes two to tango.” He points out.

“It’s been 6 and a half months Carlos, you should move on.”

“Have you?”

That simple question was all it took for you to break. Honestly, you should have been able to move on. You should’ve been able to leave this whole situation back in Monaco. So why were your feelings for Carlos just as strong as they were back then? Even after your attempt to cut him out of your life he still stood here in your flat with a bouquet of flowers, apologizing for not coming to you sooner. 

“I haven’t,” you whisper, not trusting your voice.

Carlos sets the flowers down on the counter and moves in front of you. You avert your gaze to the ground, knowing that if you looked him in the eyes there would be no stopping the tears. 

Carlos doesn’t let you. His hand gently moves your chin so that you are looking him directly in the eyes. He doesn’t say anything about your tears, he only moves to wipe them away and unlike that night in Monaco, you let him. His hands are still surprisingly soft, just like that night the two of you kissed. 

He moves his hands away and you nearly sob at the loss of contact but before you can say anything Carlos is pulling you into his chest. His arms wrap around your middle, hands sprawled out across your back. It takes you a second to register what is happening but once you do you are quick to mirror his motions. 

You bury your head into his chest and close your eyes. There is something about being wrapped in Carlos’s arms that makes you feel like everything is going to be okay. You take in a shaky breath. You haven’t been this happy to see someone in a long time and that simple thought is what causes you to break out in sobs. 

Carlos tries to pull away, presumingly to ask you if everything is okay, but you are quick to pull him back into your embrace. “Just hold me. Please.” You manage out between sobs. 

“As you wish.” 

You don’t know how long you stand in the middle of your kitchen in Carlos’s arms, and frankly, you don’t care. The soothing circles Carlos rubs on your back and the gentle swaying of both your bodies is enough to make you calm down. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Carlos pulls away, hands still holding your arms. 

You nod, leading him into your living room, and you sink into your couch. Carlos sits directly next to you, close enough to where both of your thighs rest against each other. “I’m sorry,” you begin, “I didn’t mean to get snot all over your shirt.” 

“No need to apologize.” 

“I’m sorry for more than that. I’m sorry too Carlos, for all of it. I never meant for any of this to happen.” 

“Stop,” Carlos puts his hand up and you close your mouth. “If anyone deserves an apology it’s you. That night I was hurt, I didn’t stop to think what it was like in your shoes. I'll never know what it is like to have my supposed ‘best friend’ tell me to pick between two important people in my life. I've never been in that position.” 

“Carlos,” you begin but he stops you again. 

“I spoke to Lando the next day, right after you texted me. I was furious with him. How could someone call their best friend those things? How could he, the same man who told me that he wanted me to stay away from you because he wanted to protect you, flip a switch that easily? He showed me the message you sent and I felt my heart break more. Asking him to put all the blame on you? Asking him to not blame me when we were both responsible? Pinning all the blame on yourself just so that he and I could still be friends?” 

You knew that Lando had read your message but knowing that he had shown Carlos that same day made his lack of response hurt ten times more. “You talked to him? He showed you the message?” 

Carlos nods his head. “I should say I yelled at him that morning rather than talked. We’ve spoken a couple times since then but I can tell he is still furious.” 

You figured, Lando wasn’t one to let go of grudges easily. “I can’t help but miss him, even with what he said to me.” 

“And that’s okay,” Carlos comforts you, “he is -was- your best friend for a long time. I wouldn’t expect you not to miss him.” 

“This is the first winter break we’ve been apart since we met. I don’t know what to do.” You admit to Carlos.

Carlos rests a hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles across the material of your sweatpants. And you look at him with tears in your eyes. You are so sick of crying over this whole situation, you've wasted enough tears. 

“I don’t know what kind of traditions the two of you have but if you'd like, I was thinking we could make our own?” Carlos questions. You look at him with wide eyes and he continues, “I don’t want to replace him or those good memories but I think making our own would be fun.” 

“I would love that Carlos.” you smile at him. “There is one thing though. If this,” you point back and forth at the both of you, “is going to be a serious relationship, we need to take it slow.” 

“How slow is slow?” 

“Why? Do you not want to take things slow?” You panic internally. Did he change his mind? 

Does he not want to take things slow? You know that his life is fast-paced so does slow just not work for him?

“No, no, no,” he hurries out sensing your panic, “Slow is fine, I’d wait a lifetime if you asked mi amor. I’m just asking because I want to kiss you.” 

“Oh.”

“Can I kiss you Hermosa?” Carlos asks in a whisper. 

You nod and Carlos closes the gap between the two of you. Unlike the last time the two of you shared a kiss this one was slower, sweeter but somehow more passionate. With closed eyes, you relished the feeling of his lips on yours even more so because you thought you would never experience this feeling again. 

Carlos pulls away after a moment and you open your eyes and glance at his swollen lips, a slight you’ll never get sick of. Overcome with emotion you launch yourself onto Carlos, pushing him on his back into the cushions of your couch. 

Shock is written all over his face, “Are you okay?” 

You shake your head, not trusting your voice and Carlos pulls you into his chest. Carlos’s hand runs over your head and after a moment of savoring the comforting gesture you speak up, 

“Thank you for coming to see me. I really thought I’d never see you again.” 

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

January 2022

Carlos wasn’t lying when he said that you wouldn't be able to get rid of him easily. The man was stuck on you like a popsicle on a hot summer day, not that you were complaining.

New Year’s came and went and Carlos insisted that he spend it with you. You argued that you weren’t doing anything fun, that you would probably be sleeping while everyone else was out ringing in the new year, and that he should go out and spend it with his friends. Carlos had refused, stating he rather be somewhere quiet celebrating with you. So the two of you had rang in the New Year together in your flat with a cheap bottle of champagne and poppers you set off on your balcony. 

It was only a few days later that, as you were making dinner, you got a call from Carlos. 

“Are you free this weekend?” Carlos asked as soon as you accepted the call. 

“Well, hello to you too Carlos,” you chuckle at his enthusiasm. 

“Hello mi amor, how are you this fine afternoon.” 

“I am spectacular, and how are you, Mr. Sainz?” You can’t help but break out in a smile, something you seem to do whenever you hear from Carlos.

“Good, however, I would be even better if you answered my question. Are you free this weekend?” 

“I think so, why?” 

“I want to take you out.” 

“Like on a date?” 

“Yes, like a date. I would be a bad boyfriend if I didn’t take my love on dates, wouldn’t I?” 

“Oh, I didn’t know we were officially boyfriend/girlfriend.” You tease, Carlos knew fully well how you felt about him. 

“Don’t play around with me.” 

“What were you thinking?” 

“I was thinking you’d come over to my place and I’d cook for you.” 

“Oh, I would love that but Carlos you don’t live in London.” It amuses you to have to point out that simple fact. 

“I know, that’s why I asked if you were free the entire weekend. I was going to fly you out to Madrid.” 

You freeze at his nonchalant attitude, to him this was a small little gesture and you can tell that he thinks nothing of it. You, on the other hand, were thinking way too much of it. 

“Carlos, I can't come to Madrid. I don’t have the money for it right now.” You say defeatedly, as much as you wanted to see Carlos you couldn't drop that type of money on a flight. 

“I think you missed the part where I said I would fly you out. You wouldn’t be paying for anything.” 

“Carlos, this isn’t how I want this relationship to be. I won’t be seen as a sugar baby.” You tell him seriously and all you can hear is him laughing over the phone. 

“Mi amor, you are not a sugar baby. You are my girlfriend. My girlfriend who I want to see and spend time with so desperately that I am offering her, as her boyfriend, to fly her to my home so she can spend time with me- her boyfriend.” 

You bite the skin around your nails carefully weighing your options. You want to see Carlos but on the other hand, you were worried. What if someone spots you? What if someone outed your relationship? You still wanted to take things slow and this was all moving a little fast for you. 

You voice your worries to Carlos and you hear him sigh over the phone, “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry mi amor.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I should be jumping at this opportunity. You want to spend time with me and here I am acting like a brat. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Nothing is wrong with you. I need to respect your wishes. You have no need to apologize.” 

“I still feel bad.” 

“Don’t. There will be other opportunities.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, do not worry about it. Listen I have to go, I will call you later okay?” 

“I’ll be waiting.” The two of you exchange quick goodbyes and you are then left alone with your thoughts. Saying yes wouldn’t have killed you, in fact, you should’ve said yes. So what if someone saw you and Carlos? Since when did you care what the rest of the world thought of you? 

You drop your head on the kitchen counter, lightly banging it muttering a quiet ‘stupid, stupid, stupid.’ Oh well, there was nothing you could do about it now. 

Your Friday nights always play out the same way. You get home from work, take a quick shower, put on a pair of sweatpants (you’re pretty sure these were a pair of Lando’s from years ago) and a baggy top, order something, and watch a crappy movie.

You have only finished step 3 of your routine, about to start step 4 when there is a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone other than the delivery man but you hadn’t even placed your order yet, so if it was the Chinese place already you really needed to change up your diet. 

When you open your door you aren’t greeted by the greasy teenager who typically delivers your food, instead, you are greeted with a comfy-looking Carlos who has a backpack in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other. 

“Carlos, what are you doing here?” 

“Are you not happy to see me?” He questions with a slight pout. 

“Of course, I’m happy to see you,” you reach across the threshold to grab his wrist and pull him into your flat, “I’m just surprised to see you here.” 

“I’m here to spend the weekend with my girlfriend and cook her dinner,” he proudly states, holding up the bag of groceries. 

You could melt into a puddle right there and then. “Carlos, you didn’t have to come all the way here.” 

A look of panic is now written all over Carlos’s face. “I’m an idiot.” You raise an eyebrow at his admission and gesture for him to spit the rest out. “You said you wanted to take things slow and here I am showing up without notice.” 

You wave your hands frantically, “You are not an idiot. I’m happy you’re here. Ever since I turned down your offer I’ve been thinking that maybe we don’t have to take things slow.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to pressure you into anything.” 

“I am more than sure. I am sick of overthinking. Who cares what everyone else thinks of me?” 

Carlos’s look of panic is replaced by the biggest grin you have ever seen. He drops his backpack and groceries, his hands aren’t empty for long because the next thing you know you are being lifted in his arms and spun around. 

“Carlos!” you squeal out, not expecting to be picked up. 

Carlos sets you down gently and cups your face in his hands, you are then attacked by an onslaught of kisses. He kisses your cheeks, your lips, nose, and forehead. No part of your face is left untouched by his lips. 

You giggle at the sensation, “Carlos, Carlos,” you try to get his attention but he seems too lost in his own world. “Okay. Okay. Calm down, what has gotten into you?” 

“I’m just happy. Is that a crime?” 

You tap your chin in mock ponderance, “I suppose not.” 

Carlos closes the gap once more but this time instead of an onslaught of kisses he locks your lips with his in one long kiss. His hands haven’t moved from their spots on your cheeks this entire time. You can’t help yourself from grinning into the kiss, never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined this. 

Carlos pulls away and when he sees the smile that graces your face can’t help but ask, “What has gotten into you?” 

You giggle at his question and your reply is full of snark, “I’m just happy. Is that a crime?” 

It is Carlos’s turn to break into a fit of giggles and you wish that you could listen to that sound forever. “Okay. Okay.” You try to break the laughing spell that has fallen between the both of you. “What’s in the bag?” 

Carlos picks up the bag full of groceries and makes his way to the kitchen, “I’m glad you asked, it's all the ingredients I need to make my pancakes.” 

“You were serious about cooking for me?” 

“Of course I was, I want to spoil my girlfriend.” 

“I will gladly be spoiled. Do you want any help?” 

“No, you just sit and find a movie or a show to watch.” 

“I got the only show I need right in front of me.” You wink. 

Carlos laughs at your comment but doesn’t say anything else, too focused on making his pancakes. You have to help him a couple of times when he realizes he doesn’t exactly know the layout of where you keep all your mixing bowls, pans, and spatulas, amongst other things. But once he has all his materials you can almost see the switch flip to Chef Carlos. And while it is a bit shameful to admit, the sight does turn you on slightly. The way Carlos’s tongue slightly sticks out of his mouth in concentration. The way his arm flexes as he mixes the batter. Who would have thought that cooking would be so hot? Not you, that’s for sure. 

Carlos spares a few glances in your direction and every time you need to make sure you aren’t drooling all over your counter. Your time of ogling Carlos is cut short when he slides the plate of pancakes in front of you. 

“Any syrup or butter?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “No, I want to experience the pancakes without any interference.” You pick up your fork and knife and cut right into them. Carlos does nothing but watch as you bring a piece up to your mouth and take a bit. 

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding about knowing a pancake recipe,” you say with a full mouth. 

“Good?” 

“Good? Better than good, these are delicious,” you practically moan out. 

“Almost as delicious as the chef,” Carlos says with a smirk. His comment has you choking on the rest of your pancake. Carlos is quick to rush to your side, gently smacking your back. 

You hold up your hands signaling for him to stop, “I’m okay, I’m okay.” You take a sip of water, helping aid the rest of the pancake down. “You need to make these for me again. I don’t think I can ever go back to eating a normal pancake ever again. Not after tasting this slice of heaven.” 

“You’ll never have to eat a sad pancake ever again as long as I’m around.” 

“I want you around as long as you can stand me,” you tell Carlos truthfully. 

“Good, because I never want to be without you.” 

You can’t help but think the same, and it isn’t because of the pancakes.

February 2022

It’s a week before Valentine's Day when you answer a FaceTime call from Carlos. 

“Did you see the car launch?” He asks. 

You have given up trying to get him to say hello every time you answered the phone, he was always too eager to talk to you. 

“I did. Looks beautiful, hopefully that corresponds to speed.” 

“We can only hope. I didn’t call to talk about the car.” 

“Well, you could’ve fooled me.” 

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” 

“I am funny, you know this.” 

Carlos ignores your quip and instead asks, “Valentine’s Day, do you feel okay going out?” 

Ever since that night when Carlos showed up at your flat unannounced, he has been trying to communicate better. The two of you had your little inside dates- movie nights, cooking, board games, anything the two of you could do at home or over the phone you two have done. You had only gone out on a date once and that was over as quick as it started. Some fan spotted him and it was only a matter of time before his location was leaked. You didn’t want to hide your relationship but you also didn’t want it outed by some random F1 update page. You wanted to be the one who shared it with the world. 

It took you a moment to think about it and you didn’t want to spend your first Valentine’s Day in your flat. “I would love to go out,” you tell Carlos honestly. 

“Good, I made a reservation to this place I think you’ll love.” 

You smile having the perfect idea of how to mess with him, “Well what if I said no?” 

Carlos doesn’t seem at all phased, “Then I would’ve canceled the reservation.” 

You can’t argue with that logic. “What’s the dress code? Because I take it you aren’t going to tell me where we are going.” 

“You’ll be correct about that. Dress code,” Carlos pauses for a moment, “Wear something red.” 

You roll your eyes, “You are only saying that because you like seeing me in red.” 

“It is your color mi amor.” 

“Oh so I look bad in all other colors,” you challenge. 

“What has gotten into you today? So sassy.” 

“I don’t know. Maybe it's because I miss you.” 

“I’ll see you in less than a week, mi amor.” 

“I know, I know.” You pick at your nails. “I don’t know why, I just miss you more than usual this week.” 

“I miss you too,” Carlos admits. 

You go to say something but you are interrupted by another voice. “Carlos, Carlos,” a familiar Monégasque driver calls out. “Who are you talking to?” 

“My girlfriend,” Carlos replies nonchalantly. 

“Ooohhh,” Charles calls out, and before Carlos can react Charles shoves his entire face in front 

of the camera, your screen now filled with nothing but Charles. 

There were only a handful of people who knew that you and Carlos were together, Charles being one of them. When Carlos left McLaren for Ferrari, he had spilled the beans to Charles and you had learned that Charles was the one who kept pushing Carlos to come see you. So saying you were thankful for the Monégasque driver was quite the understatement. 

You giggle at his actions. “Hi, Charles. How are you?” 

“I’m doing great, how about yourself?” 

“Same old, same old.” 

“What are you two talking about?” 

“None of your business,” Carlos answers at the same time as you say, “Discussing Valentine’s Day plans.” 

“Valentine’s Day plan? What are you two lovebirds doing?” 

“Going out,” Carlos answers for you. 

“Ooooohhhh can I come with?” Charles asks. 

You snort at his question, “Don’t you have your own girlfriend to take out instead of third-wheeling on our night?” 

Charles says nothing and just gives you a blank stare, “Fine, be that way.” 

You roll your eyes at his childishness, “Don’t be such a baby.” 

“You’re younger than me!” 

“That makes it worse!” You exclaim. 

“Charles, did you need something or did you only come in here to bother us?” 

Carlos’s question seems to snap the other Ferrari driver back in focus, “Oh. Yes actually, we aren’t free from our media duties yet.” 

“Let me say goodbye then I’ll be back out.” 

Charles wishes you a quick goodbye and you are left alone with Carlos. “You have to go?” You ask, already knowing the answer. 

“Yes.” 

“The life of a Formula 1 driver never stops.” 

“You’d be right about that Hermosa.” 

“I’ll let you go, call me if you get the chance.” 

“Of course. I’ll see you soon mi amor, don’t miss me too much.” 

“I’ll try.” 

It’s a week later on Valentine’s Day, and you had spent the majority of the day getting ready for your first real date with Carlos. But along with the butterflies in your stomach, there was also this unwelcome feeling of sadness. At first, you couldn’t place what it was but then it hit you like a truck. Lando didn’t send you any chocolates. You knew that the chances of him sending them were slim but for some reason, it really stung. Every year he sent you a box of chocolates, no matter where in the world he was, no matter what he was busy doing. And every year there was a note “You’ll always have me and your shitty rom-coms”, well you at least you still had your shitty rom-coms. You were excited for your date but that gloomy feeling was hard to get rid of and you knew that Carlos was bound to notice. 

“Wow,” is all that came out of Carlos’s mouth when you answered the door.

“I hope that’s a good wow,” you chuckle nervously. You had done what he asked, you were wearing red, more specifically the signature Ferrari red. While it wasn’t a hard color to match, you hoped that Carlos appreciated the sentiment. 

“Of course, mi amor. You look… amazing.” You smile at his lack of words. You don’t need him to tell you anything, you could tell what he’s thinking from his gaze alone. 

“Oh, these are for you,” Carlos hands you a bouquet of red roses and baby’s-breath along with a wrapped box of chocolates. 

“Thank you Carlos, we can share the chocolates later tonight.” You tell him as you walk back into your flat. Carlos shuts the door behind him and follows you into the kitchen as you rummage around for your good vase. 

“We’ll have to leave soon if we want to make the reservation,” Carlos says, checking his watch. 

“Alrightly, just let me grab my shoes.” You walk into your bedroom to grab your shoes. On your way you stop in front of the mirror to check your hair and make-up one last time. 

When you walk back out you notice Carlos staring at the pictures on your walls. As you move closer you can see the one in particular that he is staring at. 

“That’s when Lando and I first declared each other as best friends.” You say with a sad smile. “I don’t really remember it but I do know that we were at my house and my mom snapped the picture.” 

Carlos turned to face you but you continued to stare at the picture, jealous of how young and naive the two of you were back then. 

Carlos called your name and you were quickly snapped out of memory lane. “Are you okay?” His question laced with concern. 

You wave him off, “I’m fine.” Carlos gives you a look almost asking ‘are you sure’ and you are quick to spill your feelings of gloom. “I mean it’s silly and I knew what was going to happen.” 

“Knew what was going to happen?” 

“Every year Lando has either given or sent me a box of chocolates. At first I knew it was his mom forcing him to give them to me, but as we got older he knew that it was something that cheered me up, especially because I never got anything in school from the other boys. Then he would always include a note, ‘You’ll always have me and your shitty rom-coms’. Then I didn’t get anything this morning and I knew I wasn’t, but it makes it all more… I don’t know. Real? I guess? It’s stupid, I know I shouldn’t be complaining about not getting chocolates from another man when my insanely handsome boyfriend is standing next to me.” 

“Mi amor, I didn’t know he did that. That was sweet of him and I am sorry that he can’t grow up and accept that he isn’t in control of you. Even if he was your best friend you deserve to be loved and not be shunned for doing so.” 

You nod in agreement. Every time you feel at peace with the whole situation something like this happens and you are brought back to square one. 

“Well let’s get going. I don’t want this ass-hat to ruin anything else for us. Especially not tonight.” 

Carlos snorts at your insult and holds out his arm for you to take, you do so happily. 

Carlos was nothing but a gentleman the entire time. He opened the car door for you, pulled out and pushed in your chair, and complimented you the entire evening. Sure these were all little things but they meant the world to you. The two of you were in your own little bubble the entire night, everything was so peaceful. 

However, it wasn’t until you and Carlos got back to your flat that your little bubble of peace was popped. You were busy finishing your skincare routine when Carlos called out your name. You walked into the living room and were met with the most domestic sight: Carlos sitting on your couch in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt scrolling through his phone. The sight brought a smile to your lips. 

“You called?” You asked, making your way over to the couch. 

As you take a seat next to Carlos, he hands you his phone and you are greeted with the familiar sight of Twitter. It takes you a second to make out the picture, the two figures in it are quite blurry but as soon as you read the caption attached to it your smile drops into a frown. 

‘New WAG alert? Carlos Sainz was seen looking comfortable with a mystery woman at a candle-lit dinner this Valentine’s Day. Will we be seeing more of her?

“Oh.” You aren’t surprised by the lack of privacy and you are well aware that this was bound to happen eventually, you just didn’t think that it would be the first time the two of you went out publicly. 

Carlos raises an eyebrow, seeming to have expected more than a one-worded response to the tweet he just showed you and you can’t help but shrug your shoulders in response. 

“You’re not upset,” he asks. 

“I mean a little, but it's not like I can do anything about it. We knew the risks before we went out and we were willing to take them. Are you upset?” 

“I am used to it,” Carlos admits, “It happens to me all the time, I just wished I was given the decency to go out with my girlfriend and have a nice private dinner.” 

You cuddle up into Carlos’s side and he is quick to abandon his phone and wrap his arms around you. “I don’t want anything to spoil this evening,” you tell Carlos, “so as long as those are the only pictures out there let's ignore them for now.” 

“I can do that. Now what movie do you want to watch?” 

“How about 10 Things I Hate About You?” 

March 2022

The beginning of the 2022 season was right around the corner and every time you and Carlos talked he was always trying to sneak in a comment about you coming to Bahrain. He thought he was being so subtle with his comments that the look on his face when you asked him if he wanted you to come with him was priceless. 

“I thought I was being subtle.” You can hear his frown through the phone. 

You try to contain your laughter but the task is easier said than done, “Baby, you were as subtle as a bull in a china shop.” 

“But will you?” 

Ever since he first started hinting around, you weighed the pros and cons. You loved watching the races, you would be able to spend time with Carlos, you would be exploring a new country. All of these things were nice, but when you thought about the cons, they paled in comparison. If you went to Bahrain then your relationship with Carlos was definitely going to become public knowledge, and while that wasn’t a bad thing you weren’t completely sure if you were ready for the entire world of fangirls to also be a part of your relationship. There was one other thing that was making you hesitate- the idea that you would probably run into Lando. 

You couldn’t let that stop you though, so without putting any more negative thought into it, you told Carlos that you would love to go to Bahrain with him. 

Walking through the paddock in Ferrari gear felt wrong but right at the same time. Carlos had insisted on providing you with all the possible merch you could imagine. The number 55 displayed proudly across your back, a Ferrari cap snug tightly around your head, a pair of Ferrari sunglasses Carlos had loaned you, and to your surprise a pair of Ferrari socks. You had nearly laughed when you took them out of your little handmade care package, you didn’t even know that Ferrari had socks it wasn’t like anyone was going to see them anyways. 

You were hesitant to wear it at first. Most of the other WAGs never wore team gear and when they did it certainly wasn’t to this extent, however, Carlos had put your mind at ease. He did love seeing you in red. 

You were well aware of all the cameras and more aware of all the people. Carlos had given you a clear set of directions on where to go and who to ask for so that you would be escorted to Ferrari hospitality without any complications. However, you had guessed Carlos had scrapped that plan and failed to tell you. Because standing right by the entrance to Ferrari hospitality was none other than Carlos himself. 

“Find everything okay?” He asked as you reached him. 

“I did, but this wasn’t a part of the plan.” 

“Well, I had time and saw your message. I wanted to be the first to greet you.” He leans in and kisses your cheek. 

“It’s a welcomed surprise.” 

“Come,” Carlos grabs your hand and interlocks it with his, “I want to give you the grand tour.” 

Carlos drags you around introducing you to everyone and you can’t help but feel extremely welcomed in your first -official- introduction into the world of Ferrari. Monaco might’ve been the first time but this experience was a much fonder one. 

Carlos spends as much time as he can with you, doing his best to make sure you felt welcomed. Eventually, he is forced to do his job and you watch the free practice in the comfort of Ferrari hospitality. 

Ever since Valentine’s Day you have avoided social media. Even when you were friends with Lando you never really interacted much with F1 Twitter and even less so now that the two of you weren’t talking. However, due to it being the beginning of the season F1 the sport was trending and out of pure boredom, you decided to brave the tweets. Most of them were predictions about the year, fans cheering on their faves, and even thirst tweets of seeing the drivers back in their cars once again. And who could forget the beloved gossip and update pages? Certainly not you, considering you were looking at your own face on one of the pages. 

You weren’t foolish enough to think that you were going to go undetected with Carlos, you were fully expecting it. That however did not lower the shock of seeing yourself on one of these pages. The tweet itself didn’t have many likes or retweets but it wasn’t the only one out there talking about you. And it wasn’t before long until you saw one captioning ‘Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris’s BFF spotted together entering the Ferrari garage’ and below it was a picture of you and Carlos hand in hand. That wasn’t what made your stomach flip, it was what was underneath the photo. Speculation as to why you didn’t have your yearly appearance on Lando’s Instagram. 

Of course they were right, there was no need to speculate when that is exactly the reason why, not that you were going to confirm their beliefs. You would have to tell Carlos about all of this on the way back to the hotel. No need to worry him when he should be focusing on the car and the season ahead of him.

The two of you are lying on the bed in your shared hotel room watching some random movie that just happened to be playing when you turned on the TV while waiting for room service. You were snuggled into Carlos’s side, your hand resting on his chest. Carlos has one arm under your head, the other is scrolling through his phone. 

When you told him about what you saw on Twitter that afternoon he simply shrugged and said “Let them think whatever they want to think. It’s our relationship, not theirs. We don’t owe anyone anything.” 

You still had your concerns that Lando might do something but Carlos insisted while he was dumb, he wasn’t that dumb. But if he was to open his big mouth McLaren and Ferrari’s PR team could handle it. This was nothing to worry about. 

You’re half paying attention to the movie and half paying attention to the occasional funny tweet or whatever Carlos is showing you. A knock at the door causes you to shoot out of Carlos’s arms. “I’ll get it!” You call out to Carlos, excited to eat some real sustenance. 

You don’t even bother looking through the peephole before whipping open the door, a rookie mistake. Because who stands in front of you is not the room service delivery person with their little cart, no, the person standing in front of you is your ex-best friend. 

“Lando?” you ask in shock. 

“So I see what’s going around Twitter is true then?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, “Excuse you?” 

“I just had to see it for myself,” Lando sneers. 

Before you can respond Carlos comes up behind you. He’d gotten out of bed at the sound of 

Lando’s voice. “What are you doing here?” Carlos questions. 

“Oh I just saw some update and WAG pages saying that my best friend was spotted with no one other than the Carlos Sainz and I figured I would come see it with my own two eyes.” 

“We aren’t best friends anymore. Remember you told me I was throwing 15 years of friendship away?” You snap back. 

“You need to go,” Carlos gently guides you away from the door so that you are now standing behind him. You aren’t going to argue with that. All you wanted was to spend the night with your boyfriend eating room service while watching a crappy movie. You didn’t want to see Lando, let alone have this conversation. 

“Is this room 512?” Of course, now the room service shows up. 

“Yes,” Carlos answers. The gentleman looks between Carlos and Lando, “Don’t worry about him, he was just leaving.”

You peer around Carlos in time to see Lando stomp off down the hallway back to his own room. The room attendant drops the food off and leaves in a hurry, not that you blame him. 

You make your way back to the bed and curl in on yourself, Carlos is quick to follow. “I’m not hungry anymore,” your voice is muffled by one of the pillows. You feel the side of the bed dip behind you as Carlos sits to comfort you. 

“I can’t believe he showed up here. What is his problem? Do you want me to go talk to him?” 

The idea of Carlos talking to Lando nearly makes you throw up. “No, don’t bother. It’s not worth it.” 

“No,” Carlos says harshly, “He comes here, spews a bunch of bullshit and he thinks he can get away with it.” You roll yourself over so you can now look at Carlos. You’ve never seen him so mad, sure you saw him pissed off and frustrated at Monza a few years back but this, this was a whole different type of anger. 

“Carlos, as much as I would love for you to give him a piece of your mind, it’s not going to do anything. To him we're the bad guys, no matter how we try to explain ourselves. I’ve made peace with the fact that this is who he is. I think as long as this stays between the three of us and off the track it's best that we just leave it.” 

“That still doesn’t mean he can show up whenever he feels like it and start shit.” 

“I know, but you’ve said it yourself- he’s childish.” You can see the fight and anger leave Carlos’s body. “Besides, I want all your focus to go into the race. I only kiss boyfriends who end up on the podium.” 

“Is that so?” Carlos questions with a sly grin. 

Well, it seemed that you owed Carlos a kiss. A Ferrari P1-P2 finish at the first race of the season was a sight to see. The entire garage was in a frenzy as all of them rushed to watch the podium ceremony. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do with yourself. You wanted to go watch the ceremony in person but you weren’t sure if that was acceptable, seeing as the rest of the team was more deserving and you were only, well, yourself. 

“What are you doing? Let's go! Carlos will want to see you!” James, one of the mechanics that Carlos had introduced you to early in the weekend had seen you standing off to the side looking confused as to where you should go. 

“Are you sure?” You asked as he weaved you around his co-workers. 

“I’m sure of it! Besides, don’t you want to see your boyfriend up on the podium?” 

You really did want to see Carlos on that podium and it definitely had nothing to do with seeing his skin shine with sweat and champagne, nothing at all. 

The entire atmosphere was addicting- the fireworks, the roar of applause, the cheering from the team, it was all so addicting and the grin on Carlos’s face was worth being squished in between multiple sweaty bodies. 

You could pinpoint the exact moment that Carlos saw you in the crowd and if you thought he was happy before you would consider him ecstatic. After the ceremony, Carlos was quick to make his way down to where you and the rest of his team stood. 

Your congratulations died on your lips when Carlos crashed his into yours. Although surprised, you waste no time grabbing the nape of his neck and bringing him closer to you. His skin is sticky with sweat and champagne, not that you mind. His lips are sweet and you can’t help but savor the flavor. 

He pulls away and you can’t help but ask, “What was that for?” 

“You said you only give kisses to boyfriends who get podiums. I was just collecting my award.” 

You roll your eyes, “I’ll kiss you no matter where you end up.” 

“Good.” Is all he says before capturing your lips in another kiss. You were well aware of the cameras, the people and their cheers when Carlos kissed you. You could feel the heat rise into your cheeks but you didn’t care. How could you when you had Carlos kissing you? Tomorrow 

might be a different story but for now, you were truly living in the moment. 

Silverstone 2022

Nearly 4 months had passed since Carlos had kissed you after his podium finish in Bahrain. And it's been nearly 4 months since every social media platform of yours has blown up. It was almost scary how fast your follower count went up. You tried not to look at the comments but your curiosity had gotten to you. While the majority were sweet, there were always those who hated other people's happiness. 

It really didn’t bother you, well most of the comments anyways. The ones that cut the deepest were the ones that asked about Lando- Where’s Lando? I wonder what Lando thinks about this? Oh, so you're the reason we don’t have Carlando anymore. She was only using Lando the entire time, I guess the friendship paid off. 

Carlos had called you when first brought them up, that conversation was a rough one. He had suggested deleting social media for a time and you had argued back that they really didn’t bother you. You knew that Carlos was concerned for you, it was sweet. But like any 20-something-year old you were addicted to your phone and social media. Carlos had then suggested making a private account, something only your close friends and family could view, that way you could continue your life as an iPad kid. 

Silverstone was the second race that you were able to attend of the season. Carlos understood that you couldn’t drop everything and travel the world with him, no matter how much the both of you wished you could. But it nearly broke your heart to tell him that you weren’t able to make it to the Spanish Grand Prix. He told you it was okay but you could still hear the sadness in his voice. 

You always sent him a text after every race, no matter the result, and if the timezone allowed you would try and call him. So when your time off got approved for the entire week at Silverstone you couldn’t be happier. 

So here you were, your third time at the Silverstone circuit, however, it was your first time being here and not being in the McLaren garage. You felt more comfortable in your Ferrari getup the second time around. 

You had high hopes for Carlos during qualifying, the free practice sessions seemed promising. And your hopes were fulfilled when Carlos got pole position for the 2022 Silverstone Grand Prix.

Your emotions were amped up a hundred times the next day when the checkered flag was waved and Carlos crossed the finish line in P1. Emotions were high in the Ferrari garage and you weren’t excluded in feeling them. Carlos had just achieved his first-ever Formula 1 win at Silverstone. Everything seemed to move in a blur, you were whipped away to see Carlos. You didn’t care how sweaty he was, how his hair was sticking out in a hundred different directions, or the indents of his helmet on his cheeks. None of that mattered, all you cared about was Carlos. Celebrations didn’t cease after the podium ceremony. Of course, Carlos was whisked away for a few post-race interviews but everyone was preparing for the night ahead. 

You don’t remember the name of the club that you were dragged to and frankly, it didn’t matter. The atmosphere was buzzing, the music was so loud you could feel it in your chest, and the floor was so sticky that you could feel your shoes almost slip off with every step. But you could barely think about any of that when Carlos’s hands were currently around your hips and the two of you were dancing, not very PG-ly, in the middle of the club. 

Carlos was handsy when tipsy, you knew that much. His hands were constantly moving up and down your sides, to your hips, to your arms, and even to your neck every time he decided it was time for another kiss. 

“Do you need another drink?” Carlos shouts over the music. 

You glance down at the empty cup in your hand, “Yes please!” 

Carlos grabs your hand and drags you away from the dance floor and towards the bar. You bump into a couple people and while it is bound to happen you can’t stop the quick ‘sorry’s’ that slip through your mouth. No one seems to pay any attention to you basically stepping on their toes, all too wasted to really care. 

You stand next to Carlos as he tries to get the bartender's attention. You don’t mind waiting, it’s busy and the poor bartenders are slammed. However, you do mind when someone bumps into you so roughly that you are rammed into the bar counter. 

“Sorry!” The person exclaims and you are quick to turn around to see who the hell just ran into you. 

The universe must really have it out for you because the voice belonged to none other than Lando Norris, who else? The two of you lock eyes but say nothing. It’s only when Carlos turns around with your drink that Lando lets out a scoff. 

“Congratulations Carlos,” Lando says. You don’t have to be a genius to tell that Lando isn’t being genuine.

“Thank you,” Carlos replies dryly. 

“That was quite a performance at the podium ceremony,” Lando’s attention is now fully on you, “I never did quite take you for a slut but guess I was wrong.” 

Your jaw drops and you are left speechless. Never in a million years did you think that the boy you grew up with would call you such a vile name. Tears well in your eyes, is this truly what he thinks of you? 

Carlos slams the drinks on the counter and you can feel the anger roll off of him in waves. “What did you just say?” Carlos growls. 

Lando looks taken aback by Carlos’s reaction and you can almost see a flicker of regret flash across his features, however, he doesn’t change his stance reply with a cold, “You heard me.” 

“I have had it with your glorified temper tantrums. You need to grow up and get over yourself.” Carlos doesn’t allow Lando to get another word out, he grabs your hand and pulls you away from the bar. 

Once the two of you are outside Carlos is pulling you into a tight hug. “Don’t listen to him. He’s drunk and an asshole.” 

Carlos's words don’t do anything to stop the tears from falling. Sobs rack your body and Carlos can only hold you tighter. Rationally thinking, why did it matter what Lando thought? He wasn’t a part of your relationship. Emotionally thinking, on the other hand, Lando was your best friend for 15 years. The two of you went through almost every milestone together and yet he still called you a slut. It didn’t matter if he was drunk or not. 

“Let's go back to the hotel,” Carlos says softly. 

You can only nod. You can’t help but feel bad for Carlos, tonight was supposed to be his night. The two of you were supposed to celebrate his win but here you were crying and getting snot all over his shirt. 

You had nearly passed out the moment you and Carlos got back to your shared hotel room. The excitement of the day along with the tears had proven all too much. Cuddled up next to Carlos you couldn’t help but feel the need to apologize. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing, Hermosa?” 

“Tonight was supposed to be all about you. We were supposed to have a fun night celebrating and I ruined it.”

“No. The only person who ruined it was Lando. He had no right to say anything.” 

“But-” 

“I don’t want to hear you apologizing for something that wasn’t your fault. You did nothing.” 

“But my reaction-” 

“Was a normal reaction to the situation. If he ever says or does anything like that again I won’t hesitate to punch him.” 

“Carlos!” you exclaim, “You can’t just do that.” 

“Consequences be damned.” 

“Carlos,” you say in a warning tone. He says nothing and you shake your head in annoyance. 

“We can celebrate properly later, when do you need to be in Austria?” 

“In three days, I think.” 

“Oh, well when we go back to my flat we can do something before you leave?” 

“Sounds perfect mi amor.” Carlos presses a kiss to your temple. 

When you talked about celebrating with Carlos at your flat you meant maybe have a few drinks, go out for a nice dinner, or maybe even watch a movie. What you didn’t imagine was straddling Carlos on your couch. 

One of your hands was wrapped around Carlos’s neck and the other was tangled in his hair as his lips left warm, wet kisses along your neck. His hands were spread across your back, holding you in place to make sure you didn’t fall backwards off the couch. 

“Carlos,” you whine out. The slight scratch of his facial hair mixed with the feeling of his lips were driving you crazy. You were definitely going to need to use some concealer and foundation 

on your neck when you got ready tomorrow morning. 

Carlos, hearing your whine, had only responded with a “I know Hermosa.” 

His hands then found their way to your waist and moved you off of his lap so that your back was now resting against the cushions while he hovered over you. His hands dance along the hem of your shirt and you savor the warmth of his palms. 

Carlos nearly has your shirt off of your body when there is a knock at the door. The two of you look at the door and then back at each other and Carlos brings a finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. You nod in understanding, hoping that whoever is at the door goes away soon. 

The knocking continues and Carlos moves off of you and to the front door. You sigh and sit up, fixing your shirt in the process. You hope whoever is at the front door has a good enough reason for interrupting your and Carlos’s celebration. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You hear Carlos question whoever is at the door. 

“Carlos,” you call out, getting up from the couch to make your way out of the living room to see what the commotion is. “Who’s at the door?” 

You don’t need Carlos to answer the question because as soon as you are close enough you see a sheepish-looking Lando who is holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“Lando, what are you doing here?” You cross your arms over your chest. 

“I came to apologize for my behavior last night.” 

Carlos scoffs, “Just last night? You should be apologizing for a lot more than that.” 

Lando looks down defeatedly, “You’re right. I should have never acted the way I did. The truth is I was worried about losing my best friend. I’ve always cared about you and I always will care about you.” 

It was your turn to scoff, “You didn’t seem to care about me that night in Monaco when you told me I was throwing away 15 years of friendship. You didn’t care when I pleaded with you to understand my feelings. You didn’t care when you basically told me to choose you or Carlos. You say you were worried about losing your ‘best friend,’ but if you were so worried, how come I couldn’t even get a response from you that morning I texted you apologizing for all of it?” 

“But I’m here now.” 

“That doesn’t matter. I don’t need a half-assed apology. Especially after that night in Bahrain and especially after what you called me last night.” 

“What made you think that showing up here, unannounced, was going to do anything?” Carlos asks. 

Lando now turns his attention to Carlos, “I wasn’t talking to you. I am here to apologize to her, not you. This isn’t any of your business.” Lando snaps. 

Lando has always been a bit of an idiot and clearly, that hasn’t changed in the past year. You rub your eyes. You can feel the stress headache starting to form already. 

“Not any of my business,” Carlos repeats, “Are you kidding me? You say it’s none of my business but I think calling my girlfriend a slut is my business. You might be too childish to see it but I care about her. I listen to her when she talks about you and your friendship, when she talks about how she has supported you for all these years, and when she misses you. I won’t have you messing around with her feelings.” 

“Lando,” you say gently, “You will always have a special place in my heart. I just can’t get those nasty words that you told me out of my head. It’s one thing to call me a bad friend but calling me a slut? For what? Finding someone I care about, someone who makes me happy? I can’t accept your apology, at least not right now. Maybe someday we’ll be able to be friends again but I think it's time that we admit that we will never have what we once did.” 

Lando looks as if he is about to cry and while you feel bad you have to maintain your stance. You can’t have someone like this in your life, it’ll only make it harder. 

“I get it,” Lando says, “Just know that I truly am sorry for the way I’ve acted. I hope the two of you are happy, I mean it.” 

“Thank you, Lando. I wish you the best."

Lando walks away, head hung in shame. Carlos closes the door softly and just like that the hope you held for you and Lando’s friendship dies out. Maybe it’s for the better, maybe one day the two of you can be friends again. But for now, you’ll focus on the present. You might’ve closed the door on Lando but you have never been happier opening the one for Carlos.

A/N: I just wanted to say again thank you so much for all the support on part one. I was not expecting this to become a 20k+ fic in it's entirety. I was also unsure the entire time whether or not to make Lando and the Reader friends again, so hopefully this is open ended enough for you to decide.

Also please don't forget to like, comment, or reblog. It seriously means the world to me <3

taglist- crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you!

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[ahgasegotarmy116]

Do it for Him | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and your husband can't conceive but you will do everything in your power to make it possible to pacify his father's wishes. Little did you know your father in law is a little too willing to help. Pairing: fem!reader x Father in Law Jungkook Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: Yändere, and manipulation into cheating and explicit language. a/n: This is my first time writing something like this so I'm not really sure how I did. There's gonna be a part two for sure so this is more like the introduction part of the Yandere aspect and setting up the plot. And a special thanks to @coralmusicblaze for the request <3

"Wait please, let's talk about this" I say running down the stairs after my husband. "You heard the doctor yourself, we can't have children" he rushes to say but decides to stop in his tracks, his back to me still. "They didn't say we can't, they just said it would be more difficult. There are still options available to us" I say hoping to reassure him. 

"First I'm a shit son for wanting to marry someone I love instead of marrying for money" he says bitterly looking towards me. "A now I'm an even worse son because I can't 'continue the family line' so his corporate empire can continue or whatever the fuck he talks about" he says as he continues to beat himself up about something that isn't even his fault. 

"We'll work through this. We can keep trying and we will continue going to the doctor to see if they can help as well okay?" I say rubbing his arm. "It'll all be okay as long as we stick together" I say holding the side of his face softly encouraging him to look at me. "Okay?" I question, waiting for his agreement. 

He looks in my eyes, seeing my dedication to him and he nods his head, whispering a quick okay before placing a soft kiss on my lips. "Everything will work out, I promise" I say wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him close to me and he returns it right away, holding me in a firm embrace until the car pulls around, the driver opening the door for us.

"Where are we going?" I ask, seeing that we've missed the turn to go home. "We have to go tell my parents" he says with a clenched jaw. "What? Now? We only just found out, shouldn't we at least take some time to think about this?" I ask concerned with what might happen if we tell them while he's still in a vulnerable state of mind. "I would rather just get it over with so they won't pester us about it anymore. Let's just tell them that we're having trouble conceiving and we're going to go to a doctor to see if they can help. That way the blame can't be put on either of us" he reasons and I nod my head in agreement. 

"Hey" he says grabbing my hand making me look up at him. "You know I love you right?" he says and runs his thumb along my knuckles. I nod my head and give him a tight lipped smile, putting up a strong front for him. Truth is, this is just as upsetting for him as it is for me, if not more. No one wants to admit that they need help with something that is supposed to happen naturally, between a man and woman that love each other. A child made with love...

"So basically your dick doesn't work" Mr. Jeon says, not pulling any punches. "Honey please" Mrs. Jeon says, trying to reign him back in which helps a bit. "My dick works just fine" my husband says ultimately taking on a defensive stance against his father. "First you beg me to give you my blessing to marry her, and now after all of that you're not able to do the one thing that I am asking you to do for our family. We need an heir to inherit the company and I want to see that happen now" his father says standing up and walking out of his office that we all had gathered in. "Let me talk to him" my mother in law says with a pained expression, "No, it's fine I'll go" I say standing up and giving her a kiss on the cheek telling her not to worry.    

 "I'm not interested in a lecture about the children" my father in law says with his back turned to me, clearly thinking it was his wife who has come to reason with him. "I'm not interested in doing that either" I say walking closer to him where he is standing on his balcony, over looking the city. He turns to face me and takes in my form for a little longer than I had hoped he would, his eyes dragging up my figure, lingering on my chest before turning back around. "I'm sorry you had to see that" he says not bothering to spare me a second glance.

I decide to walk up to the railing next to him and take in the view as well, breathing in the fresh air and trying to regain some sense of peace before I try speaking again. "It's his fault isn't it?" he questions, still looking out at the scene in front of him. "It isn't anyone's fault" I say mirroring his posture. "It has to be someone's fault" he says, upset that no one wants to tell him the truth. "It's funny, you both put up such a fight to be together and it turns out you aren't as compatible as you thought you were" he laughs bitterly,  pushing himself off the railing and turning to walk back inside. 

"That's not fair, it's not our fault" I call after him. "Life's not fair sweetheart. Get used to it" he says and closes the door behind him. I let out a sigh and turn back toward the city and look up at the sky, trying to clear my thoughts and hold back the tears that I can feel are moments away from falling. "Hey" my husband says, placing his hand on the small of my back making me jump not realizing that he had already come to find me. 

"How did it go?" he questions softly and when I go to open my mouth in response only a soft whimper comes out, now finally feeling my heart start to crack while tears stream down my face. "Come here" he says wrapping his arms around me, pulling me in as close as he can while I start sobbing into his chest, not being able to hold it in anymore. "It's okay baby, it's okay" he says softly coaxing the tears out of me. "We'll figure it out just like you said" he whispers and I nod showing him that I haven't lost hope. I guess at the end of the day, I'm not as strong as I thought I was. 

"How long are you going to be gone?" I question him as he finishes packing up a suitcase for his business trip. "Only a few weeks" he says as if it's nothing. "Weeks? What about the doctor? What about me? What about-" I ramble but am cut off by his lips on mine. "It's already all taken care of" he whispers against my lips and rubs his nose against mine before pulling back to continuing packing. 

"You talked to the doctor already?" I question and he nods his head. "Yep he says things are looking good and he's hopeful that we'll be able to conceive soon. We could even conceive now if you want to try" he says turning back around, drinking me in before pulling my body flush against his and giving a few light kisses on my neck already making me breathless from his touch on my sensitive skin. "How much longer until you're done?" I say trying to keep my mind straight. "Give me five minutes" he says and comes back up to give me a urgent kiss before running back and getting a few more things. 

"Text me when you land" I say walking up to the car while the driver places his bags in the trunk. "Of course" he says giving me one more kiss full of longing, making me not want to let him go. He pulls back a few moments later and nudges his nose against mine again before pulling away. "I love you" he says softly and rubs his thumb over the dark purple hickey he gave me on my neck, one to 'remember him by' as he had said proudly while I tried to scold him. 

"Don't take a test until I come back okay?" he says turning towards me one more time before getting in. "I won't" I laugh and shake my head at him while he gets in the car. "Bye" he says rolling down the window to give me one last goodbye before the driver pulls out of the driveway. I wave and watch as the car goes down the street until it turns the corner. "Be safe" I whisper under my breath and go back inside. 

After closing the door I head back into our bedroom and look down at my phone seeing a missed call from my father in law but he didn't bother leaving a message. He never calls me and since our last interaction wasn't the best I have no idea why he would even bother getting in touch with me now. 

"Y/n" he says simply when he picks up my call. "Yes?" I say waiting for him to get on with what was so important that it required a personal call from him. "Has my son left for the airport yet?" he questions and I'm curious as to why he would be asking me that instead of him. "Uh yeah he just left a few minutes ago" I say deciding to forward the information anyways. "Great, I need to speak to you about something, in person" he says which confuses me even more. "Why can't you just tell me now?" I question. 

"This is a personal matter and I would prefer it if we could just talk about it privately and have a civil conversation" he says and now that I take note of the background noise I can tell that he's probably in the car. "Okay that's fine" I concede without much of a fight and he tells he'll be there soon and hangs up without another word. I would prefer to avoid all conflicts with him since he's already not too fond of me to begin with but I might as well not give him another reason to be upset with me. 

"Hello" I say opening the front door for him and he walks in like I am simply 'the help' letting him into his own home and makes his way over to my husband's office. 'Sure make yourself at home' I think to myself and roll my eyes at him while closing the front door. "And to what do I owe the pleasure?" I question walking in with my arms crossed in front of my chest and leaning against the doorframe. "Y/n please sit down. I promise, I mean no harm" he says in the softest tone I've ever heard come out of his mouth which leaves me furrowing my brown and doing as he says, being caught off guard by his demeanor. 

"I wanted to discuss something with you" he says sitting on my husbands chair behind his desk. "So you said" I say lifting a brow at him. He's not usually one to mince words or beat around the bush, an example being the last interaction we had in person. "Why is it that you can't conceive?" he ask, coming back to his normal self somewhat but keeping that softer tone still. "I don't think I'm obligated to tell you that" I say simply, keeping my walls up despite his sudden change of character. 

"I just wanted to know if this is a situation that I can somehow...remedy" he says putting a strange emphasis on the end. "Meaning?" I question, not fully understanding what he could possibly mean by that. Or more like, I hope his thought process isn't just as twisted as mine is. "Well if the burden is on my family, mainly on my son then wouldn't it make sense that we would be the ones to help solve this problem?" he says standing up and walking around the desk to lean on it in front of me, still at somewhat of an appropriate distance. 

"Right" I say waiting for him to get to the point. "And seeing as I'm the one who is desperately awaiting an heir, shouldn't I be the one who is putting in the most effort find a solution?" he says never breaking eye contact. "Mr. Jeon what are you trying to say?" I say sitting upright in the chair, my body language showing clear discomfort. "Don't call me that" he says lowering his voice an octave catching me off guard and almost sending a current running up my spine. 

"What should I call you?" I say crossing one leg over the other, shifting around, suddenly feeling warm under his gaze. "By my name, or would you prefer something else?" he says with an eyebrow raised. "I would prefer to call you Mr. Jeon" I say in defiance, continuing to keep my walls up. "I guess that's fine, as long as you remember that it's me you're referring to" he says bending at the waist to meet me at eye level. 

"Referring to while what?" I ask feeling my heart rate pick up with this new proximity. "While I do what my son should've been able to do in the first place"  he says looking down at my lips for a moment before straightening back up, providing me room to breathe again. "Mr. Jeon I think you should leave" I say after clearing my through and getting up to walk out of the room but before I'm able to get far he holds me back by my wrist, pulling me towards him. 

"There's no need to run sweetheart, we're just talking" he says and brushes my hair out of my face that had been moved out of place by his sudden movements. "I'm not running" I say through clenched teeth trying to stand firm though I feel my defenses crumble with every honey coated word that drips from his lips, leaving me conflicted. "Good, then why don't you sit back down for me." he says and gently guides me back by my waist to do as he suggested. 

"Let's just say this, I have a proposition for you" he says leaning back on the desk again. "There's nothing to propose, your son is my husband" I say trying to show him how crazy this all is. "I am aware" he says plainly waiting for my further reasons to decline his offer. "Shouldn't that be reason enough?" I question, not understanding how he doesn't see how sick and twisted this arrangement is that he is proposing. 

"You duty to your husband is to always want the best for him correct? To do anything to make him happy? Don't you think that he would be happy coming home from his long trip away to find you pregnant with his child?" he says circling around the chair I'm in, dragging his finger along the back of it and stopping to rest his hand on my shoulder. "But it wouldn't be his child" I say looking up at him which was a huge mistake as his gaze has got me feeling breathless from the intensity. Pupils dilated and eyes forever trained on my entire existence, tracing every curve with his eyes, desperate to see what is hidden underneath everything I'm wearing. 

"He doesn't have to know that. He would share his DNA, and that's good enough for me" he says brushing it off. "Well then why don't you and your wife have another child?" I question, "Then he can take over when my husband retires. They would be the same age anyway if I were to have a child now" I say quickly offering a solution. "Haven't you always wanted to be a mother? Have a child to call your own?" he questions now holding my jaw in place, maintaining eye contact. 

"Yes" I say now nervous from the intimate contact. "And my son has always wanted to be a father no? He knows it would take a lot of pressure off everyone once you do have a child right? I would pull back and we would have our heir. Don't you want that?" he questions. "Not like this" I whisper barely holding on, the last of my defenses finally diminished. "Do it for him. No one has to know I promise." he says, rubbing his thumb against my bottom lip. 

"But I love him" I say, my eyes welling up with tears, knowing that I don't have the fight in me to stop this anymore. "And you're doing this because you love him" he says closing our proximity and bringing his lips close enough to touch but holds back for a second. "It's your call" he says and waits for me to take the next move 'I'm so sorry' I think to myself, begging for my husband's forgiveness and close my eye while also closing the distance between us. 

Part two Do it for Us | Jeon Jungkook

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[merakiui]

SCARA WITH A MILF DARLING.... AND SPECIFICALLY **HIS** MILF.... wow...

He's gonna be so shameless about it too.... is he way way too old to cuddle in bed with "mama" ? Yes, of course. But he will anyway and his head will be on your chest. and he will cling for dear life, nobody's getting up until he says so.

A spoiled brat too he will drink up all the affection and praise and do anything to get more.... A milf darling will save him but also make him worse in other aspects I think... I'm here for it 🙈

Even better if he gets to piss off Ei with his attitude 😭

YES OMG YOU SEE THE VISION!!!!!! A milf and a nursing handjob could fix him and make him worse all at once. He deserves a loving motherly figure in his life, especially if said figure is his stepmother who cherishes him far more than Ei ever did. >_< I still can't get over how he says "my mother" in his backstory cutscene........ THE ANGUISH. OHHHHH I AM ILL. T_T IT HURTS. Even more so when you realize Ei never viewed him as her child in the way he viewed her as a mother. She just saw a puppet she had created and then set free after she realized he was unfit for the Gnosis.

Ramblings aside, these mommy issues mean he is absolutely down bad for a milf. Not just any milf. His milf!!!!!! :D AAAAAAA OTL cuddling with you and clinging like a koala omg,,,, he's so spoiled and so hungry for your attention. Scara faking being in a bad mood just so you'll hug him and then he can bury his face in your tits.

Ei seeming so displeased with his attitude!!!!! But you tell her it's fine. You coddle him too much, but then of course you would because you've never had a child of your own. And your stepson is such an angel towards you (he's a scheming devil towards everyone else, but you don't need to know that hehe)... you don't need to know he steals your undergarments or looks through your personal things (that drawer of sex toys you think is a private thing between you and Ei? He knows about it and is determined to use all of them on you at one point). You only need to know that he loves you very much and is happy you're his stepmother. Although to Scara you're more of a mother than his biological mother, so don't think too deeply about it when he drops the "step" part and simply calls you Mother.

Also,,,,,, soft non-con somno............. waking up to him fucking into you and he just shushes you to sleep. Go back to your nice dream. Let him take care of you. <3 you have nothing to worry about. Waaaa he'd have such an obsession with your tits,,, everything about your body, actually. You're just so soft and warm,,, so sweet and pliable for him in bed!!!!

[lev1hei1chou]

Why i believe Gojo could come back

This chapter left us in a devastated state and was absolutely uncalled for, but I personally believe this isnt the end of the strongest sorcerer. There are several reasons as to why (These are just opinions, I could be wrong in certain areas AND personal feelings might make an occassional appearance.)

LEAKS:

This whole panel was obviously made for a reason. And we dont see gojo making a decision. Considering the fact that this is literally THE Gojo Satoru, he's more likely to choose north since there's numerous things left as plot holes. We'll get to that.

Here in this page, he mentions that Toji should've cut his head off to actually kill him. In the leaks, whats cut off is his upper body but not the head! I still can't quite wrap my head around RCT but lets say he's not able to heal himself. You know who can and who would? Yuta and Shoko

Now moving on

"Gojo then bids farewell to everyone." If hes truly gone then why would he be bidding farewell to the fallen comrades? If he's dead then isn't he supposed to stay in the afterlife with them?

Pretty self explanatory

What if Kashimo is going in to distract Sukuna while Shoko and Yuta can heal Gojo?

Now think about this. Gojo is gone, Shoko doesnt fight and who are all left? A bunch of sorcerers who are literally under 20, need guidance and we havent really seen any panel where they actually plan how they're going to go about in the whole battle. Gojo isnt a want, hes a NEED, a NECESSITY.

Remember, Toji who was dead long ago pretty much appeared out of nowhere in Shibuya Arc LMAO so- yes

WHAT IS THIS EVEN SUPPOSED TO MEAN

Theres no way Gojo would be left sealed for 3 whole years, brought him back just to kill him off in the most disrespectful way possible.

Besides, things that Gojo wanted to do haven't happened yet.

He wanted to tell megumi about his father

He wanted to see his students surpass the strongest sorcerer, aka him

He wanted to get rid of the higher ups

He wanted to properly mourn suguru (for which kenjaku has to be defeated but oh well)

He wanted to save Megumi

How'd we know what Gojo said here.

On to the other aspects of why killing off Gojo was a bad idea. We barely ever saw what happened to him, and an off screen death to the so called strongest sorcerer is just senseless. Gojo is a fan favourite. People started watching the show for Gojo (myself included) and there's a high possibility of multiple people dropping the manga since he isn't even there anymore.

The ending could take a turn for the worse considering the fact that Sukuna is just overpowered and Kenjaku hasn't done anything as of now. Unless there's some heavy plot armor I dont think the students even stand a chance against Sukuna and Kenjaku. Both outcomes- the students and others emerging as victors or sukuna emerging as a victor could make the ending absolutely terrible and this might as well top AOT for being the manga with the most disliked ending.

Gojo Satoru is the mentor for multiple; for Yuji, Nobara, Megumi, Yuta, Maki, Panda, Toge and the third years and its necessary for them to have someone to teach them. It is one of Satoru's wishes to see his students surpass him, which can happen only when he's there since there's nobody else who is actually capable of teaching them and leading them into the world as actual graduated sorcerers.

So Gojo dying will make the manga take a turn for the worse. Killing him off in the middle makes absolutely no sense and is just plain bad writing. People are prolly gonna kill me for this but lets admit the truth. Hyping this battle, building up tension just to finish him off screen is NOT good writing.

Anyways. There is factual proof of Gojo potentially making a return. Maybe at a cost, like him losing his power, losing his "strongest" title or anything else. He may not even be the same anymore but honestly as long as he's back, I'm fine.

It happened previously, and could happen again.

Satoru Gojo may not be the strongest and the honoured one, but may be reborn as a newer version of himself after getting humbled. Lotuses, as mentioned above symbolise rebirth, which is why i believe this is not the end.

A small bit of advice for gojo fans: Go watch haikyuu or highschool babysitters as a form of self care <3