#maybe a longer one where we see him come for you

[strawberryblue-blog]

Beg for you —Hector Fort.

summary: You and your friends go to a college party where there is a man who flirts with you but you don't want anything to do with him (or maybe yes)

warnings: Yes. +18. smut, sexual tension, argument, enemies to lovers, college romance.

words count: +2.1k.

#SEXYNOTE: Merry Christmas (late) to my readers. I wanted to thank you all for your support. I love you all so much 💙🦋

The evening breeze hit your body as your friends laughed at a gossip told by one of them, you had been talking, dancing and having fun for several hours. The bottle in your hand kept emptying as the hours passed and you began to feel like going home.

You had a big exam tomorrow and you had only come because your friends had asked you to but you were supposed to be studying. You weren't a prude either, you liked to go out to parties and enjoy yourself with your friends but tomorrow was a big commitment and you couldn't miss the most important exams of your first year.

"Someone has a hot admirer" squealed your friend towards you, pointing to the group of boys behind you.

As soon as you turn a little, you see the boy in a round with his friends while his gaze is paid on you. Shameless. Looking at you like he wants something. Something you won't give him. He smiles flirtatiously and raises his glass to you, as if he's toasting you.

In return, you raise your hand and flash your middle finger right in his face.

"More of a stalker than an admirer, I'd say" you mutter rolling your eyes, turning back to them. Your friends laugh.

Since you had arrived, the boy had been staring at you and you were already starting to feel uncomfortable. You didn't want to be here but it was the first time you had been invited to a senior party and your friends had used your stalker to come.

It was a party in the backyard of the football team's fraternity house and he was the football team's captain. Hector Fort. Star player and leader of the college football team. A walking cliché who you don't want to get involved with.

"Come on, Y/n" says another amused one. "He's just a man, one who's interested in you!" she complains and the others agree.

"Following me around after class, inviting you guys over to blackmail me, texting me without my consent? I don't think so" you reply, listing situations.

Hector has been interested (or so they say) in you. After hitting you in the head with the ball in gym class, he had tried to approach you but you wanted nothing to do with him.

"Just play along a little longer, so we'll get invited to parties and we can hang out with cute and famous guys" your friend asks pouting.

"You can have it if you want, I'll pass" you say finishing your bottle.

No way. You're not attracted to him at all, not even with that tough guy look. He would never be interested in someone like you nor would you be interested in someone like him. You're just not compatible. It's probably some bet with his friends like the typical ones they make every time with a new girl. You won't spend your first year of college with a broken heart or being the mockery of the entire college.

"Did you hear that Karen slept with the History teacher?" one of them asked changing the subject and you obliged as they started whispering about it.

"I'm going to the bathroom, I'll be right back" you comment as they continue to tell the gossip. They nod and wander off into the crowd.

It's not hard to find the bathroom, since you know the place. It's not the first party you've been to here, but like all parties, you have to wait at the door for the bathroom. When finally the young man who was inside manages to get out, between stumbling and complaining, you enter the bathroom. Inside, you do your business and wash your hands.

A knock on the door makes you sigh. You've only had a minute of peace.

"Busy" you squeak and go about your business.

You can barely hear the music and you splash your face with water as you feel a slight dizziness. Damn. You shouldn't have drunk, you'll have a headache tomorrow. But you were a little stressed and finished the first bottle in one gulp when your friend gave it to you.

Again, the door rang again. But you didn't say anything. That it would hold, it was only a second and you hadn't been in for long.

"Busy!" you yell again as you feel the door ring again and someone opens it.

Just as you want to interject your body to stop it, a manly figure enters the bathroom with you and closes the door behind him, locking it with the latch. Shit. You hadn't done it, the door was open as if you had planned it. Your eyes see the boy leaning against the door with his hand on the doorknob.

"What are you doing?" you ask confused, you try to grab the doorknob but he gets in the way.

Your air starts to go short and you become defensive, especially as a shiver runs down your spine. It's dangerous to be around people like him, more so at a party, drunk, stoned and crazy.

"Let me out" you ask in fear. "Or I'll scream" you swallow saliva.

Hector smiles sideways, playing innocent.

"You're even cuter with red cheeks" he mutters molly, trying to generate something in you, which is nausea.

It's an involuntary act. Your cheeks turn red from the alcohol, of course. You lower your face somewhat embarrassed but remember that he won't generate anything in you. You raise your brow high again and look at him.

"I'm going to scream if you don't move" you insist crossing your hands across your chest, looking to protect yourself. "Let me go."

Although you don't feel safe, you don't feel insecure either. But you can't trust him, he's a man, an enlarged and predatory one and you don't know him at all.

"Does playing hard to get work for you?" he asks with a smirk still leaning against the door with his body relaxed, as if he enjoys this.

You bite your tongue beginning to rage. Suddenly you feel warmth in your body, as if you are suffocating. Even your teeth screech from talking back to him.

"Does playing an idiot work for you?" you lash out at once. He laughs.

"What do you want? I have to go right away" you say raising an eyebrow.

Hector bites his lip and takes a step towards you, which leaves you motionless for a few seconds but then you also take a step backwards away from him. You get defensive, not letting him make another move.

"Talk to you" he mutters taking another step. "Or maybe... not talk" he licks his lip again and you grimace.

"I have nothing to talk to you. We have nothing in common to talk about. I've already told you that, Hector" you reply exhausted.

All the times he had tried to get close to you, you hadn't let him. He used to look for you after school, when he had lunch with the girls, while you were running around in gym class, he had even gone to your room but you never answered him. He could keep insisting that you weren't going to give him what he wanted.

"Says you" he takes another step towards you and you take another step back.

Even though there is still distance between you, you begin to feel your stomach churn. He's only a foot away from you and you fear he's getting closer. The atmosphere is tense, desperate and suffocating. It was obvious that your primary interest was to get out of here, but you were certain that Hector was not going to make it easy for you.

You take a careful breath, without even moving, you don't want him to notice that for some reason you are starting to get nervous. His closeness is dangerous, everything about him is.

"We could have a lot of things in common if you wanted" he smiles sideways as he takes another step.

And you try to take another. But you don't really take it, because the space between you and the sink is gone. Your body slams against the marble countertop behind you and you are pinned between it and Hector.

You swallow as the distance between you is minimal, you can almost feel his body brush against yours. Your startled eyes watch his smug eyes, his sideways smile as if he is flirting with you and his poker face. A small bead of sweat begins to descend on the back of your neck and you swear you've never been so tense and nervous as you are right now. You have no escape.

"As I said there's nothing you and I could have in common" you mutter harshly.

Playing hard to get (even though you don't really do it) was always easy for you. You didn't come to college to flirt with football players or men in general, you're not a saint either but you don't need to get involved with people like him to feel better or more valued. College jocks are a cliché like the typical American movies, they are handsome, applied, talented and kind, they can have any girl at their feet. Sleeping with them is a privilege and if they choose you and you can't refuse. Who the fuck imposed that rule? You are free to choose who you want and not want too.

"If you want I can prove it to you" he raises his perfectly delineated eyebrow.

One of his hands takes a lock of your long hair and begins to play with it, crossing it through his fingers as his gaze drifts to your mouth and back to your eyes. Your heart is pounding and even though you want to run, you just stand there.

You look at him with a 'surprise me' face waiting for his demonstration as you roll your eyes. He cocks his head slightly, smiling before he moves completely closer to you.

His hands hold your hips and then circle your ass, lifting himself off the floor ignoring your complaint. He sits you down on the wash counter and positions himself between your spread legs, hugging your waist as his lips impact against yours.

For a second you are in complete shock, your hands refuse to touch him and your lips don't move. But he kisses you regardless. You want to push him away and hit him, to scream that he's taking advantage of you but you can't do any of that. Because your hands wrap around his neck and you kiss him back. Hard and passionate.

His torso melts between your body and you kiss like there's no tomorrow. Your hands caress his curls and his hands roam down your back and waist, caressing you. His tongue takes over your mouth and leads you into a wet, sensual, needy kiss. You're so deep inside yourself, you can't think straight. You can't even think at all.

He pulls away a little to let you breathe, your mouths red and wet, he smiles and you want to smack him across the face to wipe it away. But more so, you want to kiss him. You move to his mouth to kiss him and Hector runs his face, preventing you. Your shaky breaths mingle and you hear him laugh. Is he making fun of you? Is this a joke? After having followed you for weeks?

"If you want to, you have to ask me nicely" he whispers brushing your lips.

You deny, rolling your eyes. "I won't beg for you" you spit.

Your hands still hold his face and Hector's hands squeeze your waist, urging you on. But you wouldn't beg for him. You never would.

Relax his lips and you feel hungry. Hungry to be the one to lick them. Damn. What the fuck is wrong with you?

Your whole body is on fire. You feel every muscle in your body tighten with every passing second. The sexual tension between you is so obvious that it embarrasses you.

Feeling attraction for Hector embarrasses you.

"Fuck, Y/n, kiss me" he asks even more moving his face closer to yours but not touching you.

He wants to kiss you but he won't. He wants you to. And neither will you.

"Kiss me" he whispers again, his eyes are pure fire and his husky voice makes your hair stand on end.

You smile a little at how desperate he is, his body sticks closer to yours and you know he won't delay any longer. He can't. Not with you provoking him. Your legs wrap around his waist and you squeeze him, gasping when your bodies brush, you grab him by the collar of his shirt but don't move closer. He watches you. He sees you. He admires you. And that makes you feel good.

"You really want to have me at your feet, don't you?" he questions as his hands roam over your chest.

You gasp as his finger trails down the hollow of your breasts, teasing you. This is a game. So you're going to play. You relax your lips as you move a little and feel his bulge against your body, he grunts and in return squeeze one of your tits. Dirty and dangerous. You moan feeling the wetness between your legs.

Your hands move down his back and you grab his ass, squeezing it tightly to start rubbing against him. You both moan looking straight into each other's eyes. But you still do nothing. His face brushes against yours again, millimeters away, almost all of yours.

The heat is suffocating, the tension is too much. You feel like you're on fire, literally. But you won't be the one to give way. Not against him.

"Will you really make me beg for you?" he says the opposite way you said it.

It sounds desperate, needy. But you are too, you just can take it longer.

"Please..." is heard in the room.

It sounds like a plea. And it's not yours. It's Hector's.

He just begged you. He really did.

A small smile forms on your lips as your hands run up his taut back. He asked for it, he'll have it.

And you kiss him wildly again. His hands never stop molding your tits while your bodies rub together with need. Everything about you screams fire. The two lost in temptation, kissing, touching each other.

Everything in your head was a sign, You kept thinking that being here was a mistake. Kissing Hector was a mistake. But you couldn't stop doing it. You had promised that you wouldn't sleep with him, that you wouldn't even speak to him, but this was the complete opposite.

Maybe the attention he'd been putting on you had made you feel something different these days and maybe this was nothing more than simple attraction. You prayed it just was. Because it definitely you weren't going to look at him again after this. Fucking in a party bathroom? This was going to be fucking news.

You should never have listened to your friends when they said to play along, this was too much. His hands peeled off your pants and he didn't even take enough time to appreciate you, you didn't even care. It was just sex. When you were naked enough for him to enter you, he did so without even moving his clothes. It was obvious that they were both desperate. The tension was too much in your bodies, you needed to release it one way or another.

It wasn't a myth. Hector was huge. His cock barely fit in your center, making you writhe in pleasure as your hands held onto the counter. Your body was leaning against the mirror as Hector penetrated you again and again, erratic and wild. Her moans were loud, you were sure that if someone was outside they could hear you and it was damn embarrassing.

But you couldn't care less, you wanted to feel something that would take you out of your head tonight and Hector was definitely making you feel something. For a moment there were no worries in your head, no exams, no prejudices, there was nothing. Just him fucking you like an animal. Your mouths joined and panting, trying to withstand his blows while pleasure invaded you.

The way he was touching you, his fingers wrapped around your breasts as his onslaught kept pounding your center. He was eager. So were you.

Hector knew exactly how to please a woman, you were witnessing it and even you couldn't believe it. Damn it. Tomorrow there would be so much gossip about you but you didn't care. You wanted him to fuck you so hard, you wanted this tension to end.

You were afraid the washboard would break under you because of how hard he was fucking you, your body slamming against the mirror as his back arched. You tried to hold him tight so he wouldn't hip you, he was wild. His lips kissed your neck, your shoulders, he bit your skin, your lips. Your nails scratched his skin, leaving the marks impacted like a struggle.

The waves of pleasure were beginning to make your vision blurred and you couldn't even think, you were clouded in his presence. Hector was grunting and your moans were sure to be heard on the other side but the music was too loud, you didn't care. If anyone else wanted the bathroom? Fuck them.

You weren't going to leave this moment right now. You couldn't leave Hector. For tonight, you were his. And he was yours. That was all that mattered.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Bridal Visions: Photoshoot #5 - Fontaine Bridal - Your Groom

Summary: Chiori teasing you when your stand-in groom for the modeling photoshoot of her Fontaine inspired bridal line was Wriothesley was to be expected. And she wasn’t being entirely subtle either. But you also couldn’t deny that Wriothesley did make a charming groom and that today was going to be a memory you treasured for years to come.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ series/ sfw/ fluff/ teasing/Chiori is shipping again/

Bridal Visions Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1906

I stared at myself in the mirror, my gaze sweeping over the pristine white dress that was accented with delicate lace. But I had genuinely wondered what sort of gown I’d be wearing when I’d agreed to be a model for Chiori’s new wedding line. I really didn’t think I could have been wholly prepared for what greeted me, though, and I stared at my reflection with slightly widened eyes.

“Like it?” I blinked and turned, immediately making eye contact with Chiori before I felt a smile cross over my face.

“It’s beautiful, Chiori,” She smiled at my words. Nodding her head like she’d already known that was what I was going to say as she walked over and casually began adjusting little things that I hadn’t even noticed about the dress.

Smoothing wrinkles that were in the lace that coated both my arms and shoulders, tweaking folds in the wrists of the sleeves where they flared as she spoke, “I made some adjustments when the Traveler told me you were going to be the model.”

I blinked, feeling myself smile amusedly as my eyes followed her, “Oh?” 

I couldn’t keep the humor out of my tone, and her gaze flickered over to meet mine, a slight sparkle of amusement in the red depths of her eyes as she spoke, “That’s why it’s backless. It’ll be fun seeing how your groom reacts.” 

I snorted at her words, dry even despite their teasing nature, and I shook my head even as I chuckled, “Wriothesley isn’t going to react.”

“Don’t all grooms look forward to seeing how their bride looks?” Her tone was perfectly blasé in a way that could only be described as very Chiori, and I rolled my eyes.

“Maybe, but Wriothesley’s not my groom. He’s just modeling the clothes alongside me,” Chiori stepped back as I spoke, her gaze meeting mine.

Her eyebrows arched slightly before she lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, “Well, we’ll see. And you look marvelous anyway.”

I laughed but followed her out, lightly lifting the fitted, lacy skirt of the dress as I went and ignoring the way it dragged behind me in a short train that only added to its rather grandiose look. 

I blinked into the sunlight as we emerged from the dressing area and watched as Wriothesley turned to look back at me with a ready smile on his face that automatically had me smiling back at him.

His outfit wasn’t that drastically different from what he usually wore. It was a suit in his usual shades of grey with flashes of maroon. But his choker, gloves, and fluffy coat were gone so that he looked a bit more cleaned up, and his boots were replaced with dress shoes.

And I honestly figured Chiori might be the one woman on earth that could force Wriothesley to actually clean up his appearance, even if it was just for some photos. 

But then, who knows. Perhaps he would look exactly this way if it were his wedding day.

Chiori shifted so that she was no longer blocking his view of me, and I got to watch as his pale eyes widened in surprise before he schooled his expression back to a more easygoing smile. Though I didn’t miss the knowing look Chiori gave me as she walked over to the photographer that almost had me making a face at her before I joined Wriothesley.

“What was that look about? Some sort of girl talk that I’m not allowed to know about?” He was grinning at me as I stopped in front of him, and I shook my head fondly.

“No, Chiori’s just been teasing me,” I waved away his question with a smile, but it did little to dim the glimmer in his eyes.

“Ah, about what a lovely bride you make, I’m assuming,” It was almost impressive how quickly he caught onto at least a portion of what Chiori had just been picking on me about as he crossed his arms.

I rolled my eyes slightly at his words before nodding, smiling all the while. But there was no way I was about to let him know the specifics of her teasing or that fact that it was genuinely nice to be complimented. Even if I weren’t a real bride.

But I also wasn’t going to take his teasing lying down, and I grinned at him, “Shouldn’t you worry about yourself? Many folks see you looking like that, and you might just become the most sought-after man in Fontaine.”

He snorted at my words, nodding his head with a devil-may-care grin as he responded with characteristic sarcasm, “Oh yeah, that’s totally me. Wanted dead or alive.”

I shook my head at his words, crossing my arms as I eyed him, “While I’m sure you’d make a very cute zombie, I imagine most would prefer for their groom to be alive for the wedding.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug before grinning at me once more, “Eh, details.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” At Chiori’s voice, we both turned to see her walking over. And it was beyond obvious that she’d long since abandoned her teasing in favor of a more businesslike position. Even if she was still picking on both of us lightly with her choice of words.

She pointed at Wriothesley, and I watched as he straightened like he was at attention, doing my best not to laugh at him as Chiori spoke, “You’re a big boy, so here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to scoop up Y/n bridal style, and we’ll go from there.”

I blinked at her words, briefly surprised, before I glanced over at Wriothesley, who merely shrugged, apparently unbothered by the plan, “I suppose bridal style is fitting.”

Chiori ignored him as she continued, turning to face me, “Here, this’ll be your bouquet.”

I accepted the flowers hastily, a small arrangement of rainbow roses, before I glanced back over at her in time to see her turn on her heel and start walking off. Her exit from the space our signal to get into position.

I glanced over at Wriothesley, who was eyeing me expectantly, before I stepped closer and shifted my bouquet to one hand as I reached up to rest a hand lightly on his broad shoulder. 

He hesitated only briefly, glancing with slightly raised eyebrows at my exposed back that he could now see before he shook his head with an amused smile. Almost like he somehow knew about Chiori’s plot.

But then, as quickly and easily as could be, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing at all. One of his arms wrapping around my back while the other hooked itself under my knees so that I was cradled against him as he straightened.

I felt my eyes widen as I hastily wrapped my arm around his shoulders so that my hand rested against his neck while my other arm flailed slightly with the bouquet. And I could feel him chuckling at my startled reaction.

I frowned at him slightly as he adjusted his hold, bouncing me slightly in a move that I was positive was intended to get yet another reaction from me.

“I didn’t expect to go up that fast,” Even as I scolded him while simultaneously defending my reaction, I could feel myself steadily relaxing and trusting him to hold me up as he grinned at me.

“Apologies,” Despite his words, I was almost certain that he didn’t feel bad in the slightest. His tone certainly didn’t make him sound that way, and the mischievous glimmer to his eyes wasn’t convincing either.

I frowned at him for just a moment longer before I looked towards where Chiori stood beside the camera, her expression thoughtful as I called out to her, “What now?”

Silence stretched as she frowned at us thoughtfully, and the photographer leaned around her camera to look at the two of us after briefly glancing at the designer, “How about you two improvise something? Anything romantic should do.”

“Improvise…” I trailed off and looked over at Wriothesley, whose eyebrows had arched at our instructions.

He shook his head slightly, half-glancing my way. And I could almost see the cogs in his head turning as he muttered to himself, “Something romantic, huh?”

I tilted my head, adjusting my grip on him slightly so that I wasn’t quite so stiff as I felt a teasing smile slip onto my face, “I guess you could always sing or do something equally cheesy like they do in the movies?”

He snorted, automatically shaking his head as he shot down my playful suggestion, “Yeah, no.”

He paused, looking over at me with a grin that was steadily spreading across his face and had my eyebrows arching at him, “I might have an idea, though.”

“Oh?” I questioned him before nodding slightly, because at least he had an idea. I couldn’t say the same for myself, “Well, what do you need me to do then?”

He was grinning fully now in a way that promised that either a snarky line or some form of shenanigans was coming. But he only said one word, with amusement already coating his tone: “Relax.”

Barely even had time to frown at him in confusion before he spun, causing my eyes to widen before I abruptly started laughing in surprise at his antics as my skirt swung out in response to his motions.

I curled forward and towards him as laughter bubbled out of me, and I could feel both my skirt and veil fanning out around us as we spun with him holding me tightly to him.

Distantly, I could hear the camera snapping pictures at the speed of light, catching every moment of our interaction until he slowed to a stop. Laughing along with me, now with our foreheads pressed together from where he’d leaned down slightly.

And after a brief moment he let out a sigh as our laughter trailed off, and he set me down, still grinning from ear to ear, “Alright. Down you go.”

I was only briefly wobbly as I found my footing while I leaned against Wriothesley, and Chiori walked over with a slight smile on her face as she watched the two of us with crossed arms and a far too smug expression, “That should be perfect.”

She paused, glancing at Wriothesley thoughtfully as she gestured towards me, “What did you think of the exposed back?”

I whirled to look at her, her name slipping from my mouth in a shocked, half-betrayed exhale as he nodded. And, calm as could be, he gave a shrug paired with a slight, “I thought it was a nice touch.”

She looked at me with a smug smile, her eyes glimmering, “See? I told you.”

I all but scowled at her as she turned to walk away, abandoning me as Wriothesley turned to look at me with arched brows. Leaning forward slightly as if he were sharing a secret as he half-whispered his question, “Is that what the girl talk was about?”

I glanced his way, briefly meeting his gaze before looking away again as I thought of Chiori’s teasing. Because I knew exactly what she was getting at with all of her remarks about me being his bride and him being my groom, but I wasn’t about to mention all of that to him as I trailed off, “Amongst other things……”

If you would like to read more:

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[oqwomyo]

3rd Anniversary. Bellen's card translation.

Part 1.

 

Some time after the audience with Mr. Elboa… In the ancient forest village… We decided to take a rest.

 

- Ancient Forest Village –

 

One day… I was walking together with Belen in the village.

 

Bellen: Ancient forest… It’s a beautiful place, rich in nature.

Bellen: Maybe it’s the purity of the air… I feel like I can become healthier just by breathing.

Bellen: Master, do you think so too?

 

You: Of course, I understand you a little.

 

Then… A voice, that sounded like a sob, was heard from somewhere.

 

Ancient Forest Residents: Sob… Sob… Ugh…

 

You: Someone… is crying?

 

 

Bellen: …It looks like they are. Besides, it looks like there’s more than one person crying.

Bellen: I'm worried... Can we go and see?

 

You: Yeah.

 

Bellen: I hear voices from the other side.

 

We walked in the direction where the crying was coming from.

 

*Step step step*

If you follow the sound of the crying... You can see the villagers gathered. And in the middle... The ancient people, motionless as if sleeping, were lying in a coffin.

 

You: This is...

 

Belen: ……….

 

Aro: Ah, Bellen-san, Name-san.

Chenoa: Good afternoon.

 

You: Hello...

 

Aro: Why are you two here?

Bellen: While walking around the village, we heard a voice... We were curious, so we came to see you.

Bellen: This is... A funeral, right?

Aro: Yes... A villager died yesterday.

Aro: So now... We are burying him, returning him to the earth.

Aro: In the Western Land, when dead people are buried in the ground...

Aro: They return to the ground... And they say that they become forest spirits and watch over people.

 

You: I see...

 

The ancient people placed flowers in the coffin. The person who slept in the coffin looked very young.

 

Villager: Sob... Sob... Dad...

Bellen: Dad?

Aro: Yes... This baby is his child.

Bellen: I see... People in the ancient forest, it seems, do not know how old they are.

Aro: For us, people of the ancient forest... Physical growth stops at a certain point...

Aro: Who is an adult and who is a child... Knowing who is who can be difficult for people who come from other lands.

Now that I think about it… When I visited the Western Land with the basement butlers… Miyaji explained that the ancient people's growth stops halfway through their lives. And… Also that they don't live long.

 

Villager: Sob… Sob… Uuugh…

Bellen: ……….

Bellen: ….I want to pick flowers.

Bellen: I want to mourn him too. I don't know anything about him, but…

Bellen: When he becomes a forest spirit… I want him to continue watching over everyone.

Aro: Thank you, Bellen-san. I'm sure he'll be happy too.

Bellen: Then… Master, I'm sorry, but can I ask you to give me some time?

 

You: I'll go pick flowers with you too.

 

Bellen: No, it's okay. Master, rest here.

Bellen: I'll pick some for Master too and come back.

Bellen: Be a good child and wait for me here.

 

You: …Okay, be careful.

 

Bellen: Yes. Then I'll go.

Chenoa: Bellen-san. If there are flowers, they'll be blooming over there.

Bellen: Thank you. I'm going.

 

And Bellen left me... He went to look for flowers.

 

- A few minutes later -

 

Bellen said he'd be back soon, but... He took longer than we expected.

 

Aro: I wonder how far Bellen-san went to pick flowers?

Chenoa: Is he having trouble finding flowers?

Chenoa: I said where the flowers were… But they were probably all picked by now…

Aro: Hm~m… There were a lot of flowers in other places…

Aro: After everyone picked them all… I’m not so sure about that anymore…

 

You: I’m a little worried…

 

Chenoa: I agree… I don’t think anything happened, but…

 

You: I’ll go look for Bellen.

 

Aro: Oh, okay.

Aro: We’ll be here… If anything happens, don’t hesitate to reach for us.

Chenoa: Be careful and don’t go too far into the forest.

 

Thanks to Aro and the others… I’m going to look for Bellen.

 

*Step step step*

 

I walked into the forest in the direction Bellen was going. And soon… I found him near the bushes.

 

Bellen: ………

Part 2.

 

Bellen holds a flower in his hand… He has a bit of a gloomy expression.

 

Bellen: …….

Bellen: …..Hah.

 

You: Bellen, are you okay?

 

Bellen: Wha…

Bellen: Master, you scared me.

Bellen: Why are you here…. Did you come for me?

 

You: You haven’t returned for a long time.

 

Bellen: I see… It seems like I made you worry.

Bellen: Sorry, Master. Are you feeling lonely?

Bellen: I can’t believe it’s been so long… I was so caught up in the flowers that I didn’t notice how quickly time passed.

Bellen: Then… Let’s go back to the village together?

 

You: You sighed a while ago…

 

Bellen: Sighed..?

Bellen: Ah… Did you hear…

 

You: Something happened?

 

Bellen: Hmm~m…

Bellen: If I continue to worry Master like this… It won’t be good.

Bellen: …To be honest, seeing the funeral earlier… I remembered Mr. Goetia’s death.

Bellen: Surrounding the motionless Mr. Goetia… Everyone was crying.

Bellen: …People’s death… People are saddened when they see it…

Bellen: …I still can’t get used to it.

Bellen: Even if someone who has nothing to do with me died… My chest tightens.

 

You: So that’s it…

 

Bellen: …Oh, I’m sorry.

Bellen: I wanted you to stop worrying, but… Hearing that made you even more worried, right?

Bellen: I’m fine. Don’t worry.

 

If he doesn’t like funerals... Maybe he doesn’t have to force himself to come back. Why not just give Aro-san the flowers and go somewhere else? Having thought so, I decided to tell my thoughts to Belen.

You: If it's hard, then don't force yourself...

 

Bellen: ...No. I want to mourn properly too.

Bellen: I'll come back and give flowers.

 

You: Is that so... Okay.

 

And we... We're back for the funeral.

 *Step step step*

 

Aro: Bellen-san, Name-san. Welcome back.

Chenoa: You were so late... Did something happen?

Bellen: We're back. Sorry for making you worry.

Bellen: I wanted to pick the most beautiful flowers... I took my time choosing, and it seems like too much time has passed.

Bellen: Thanks to Master who came... I made my choice.

Aro: Heh... I can't believe you care so much about the beauty of flowers... Bellen-san, you're really kind.

Bellen: That's not true. In fact, I'm sorry for making you wait.

Bellen: If Master hadn't come... I might not have returned yet...

Bellen: Thank you for coming for me, Master.

 

You: Y-Yeah.

 

Bellen: So... Then...

Bellen: Right away... Can we lay flowers?

Chenoa: Yes. We haven't laid anything yet, so let's go together.

 

Approaching the coffin... We carefully laid the flowers.

 

Bellen: ………

Bellen: Rest in peace...

 

Bellen closes his eyes and prays silently. The way he prayed earnestly for the stranger... I felt his kindness. Like Bellen, I close my eyes... I offer my prayers straight from the heart.

 

You: (Please watch over everyone.)

 

Bellen: ……..

Bellen: …..Master...

Bellen: …….Heh...

 

And... After praying, we decided to leave the burial site.

 

- A little later -

 

After saying goodbye to Aro-san and Chenoa-san… Bellen and I were walking in the forest together.

 

Bellen: ……..

 

You: …Belen, does it still hurt?

 

Bellen: …No, everything is fine.

Bellen: …If I say that, it will only make you more worried.

Bellen: Sorry, Master. I am really fine.

 

You: Is that so…

 

Bellen: Uh-huh.

Bellen: …..

Bellen: Fufu… Master, why are you looking like that?

Bellen: You are so worried… Master is a truly kind person.

 

You: I think it is natural.

 

Bellen: That is not true.

Bellen: Getting close to another person’s heart… You pray earnestly even for a stranger.

Bellen: It is not natural… Master is a special and wonderful person.

Bellen: Because there's such a kind person by our side... I think that's what saved the hearts of all the butlers.

 

You: All the butlers..?

 

Bellen: Because... The devil butlers are hated all over the world... People say terrible things, don't they?

Bellen: No matter how much we risk our lives to save people... We'll still be despised.

Bellen: Even thinking about it... It's too painful.

Bellen: But everyone... They have Master they care about.

Bellen: Every time something happens... We have Master who worries about us and is grateful to us.

Bellen: The existence of such a person... I'm sure it's a support for everyone.

 

You: I wish it were like that...

Bellen: Fufu... Be confident, master.

Bellen: It's been a while since I met Master...

Bellen: When I'm with Master... I think I can understand what other butlers feel..

Bellen: Without realizing it... I feel like I'm starting to be drawn to such a wonderful Master.

 

You: Eh?

 

Bellen: I want to protect this person… There’s a certain charm about Master that I can’t help but think about.

Bellen: Strong and kind… Such a sweet Master.

Bellen: I’m so lucky to have met such a person.

 

You: Um… Thank you.

 

Bellen: … Fufu. Master, your face is turning red.

Bellen: Did I make you flustered?

 

After saying that… Belen gently stroked my head.

 

Bellen: There, there …

Bellen: Master really is a very sweet child.

 

You: …Are you teasing me?

 

Bellen: I would never. That’s not true.

Bellen: I’m not saying that as a joke.

Bellen: I’m glad I met you, Master… I’d be happy if we could be together forever.

Bellen: I really think so.

 

Bellen looks at me with kind eyes. I couldn’t… I looked away.

 

Bellen: …Listen, master.

 

You: What is it?

 

Bellen: Remember what I told you about the future the other day?

Bellen: After all the angels disappear… What would I like to do?

 

You: Yes, I remember.

 

Bellen: As I told you then… There are many things I would like to do.

Bellen: I want to open an orphanage, and I want to open a bar. I would also like to travel.

Bellen: And…

Belen: If Master was here… I’m sure it would be more fun.

 

You: Bellen …

Bellen: If I had said that when we first met… It would have caused you problems.

Bellen: But… I seriously think so.

Bellen: The future with master… I want to see it.

Bellen: What about you, master?

You: I...

Bellen: ....

Bellen: ...Fufu. Okay, it seems you're very confused.

Bellen: There's no need to answer now.

When Bellen said that... He gently touched my lips with his index finger.

Bellen: Confused and lost... And when you find unwavering feelings within you...

Bellen: Tell me.

Bellen: I... Will accept any answer.

You: (...Truly any answer..?)

Seeing my confused face... Bellen winks at me mischievously.

Bellen: ...Well, of course...

Bellen: In order to get the answer I desire... I'll do my best.

Bellen: From now on... Let's spend a lot of time together, Master.

Bellen strokes my head again. His gentle and sweet smile... I imagined a future with him.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 20 thoughts

last episode of the season!!!

things have seemed… tense lately between my best friends mulder and scully. i hope they can work it out. 

anyway, it says here that there is a boy with psychic powers… another child case. they deal with these so often!!!

but maybe he can unlock the secrets of the x files?? how?? i guess i will have to tune in!

post-episode thoughts: scully, i want to hug you. CSM, count your days. destroying information is a crime in my realm, and it will be punished with banishment. mulder, you need to learn how to talk about your feelings. i am no longer suggesting this politely. it must be done. now. skinner, you are the star on top of my metaphorical christmas tree. spender, my feelings towards you are pretty neutral.

we begin in vancouver, where a chess tournament is going on between a grown man and a child. there is a very large crowd and a guy who seems to be up to no good in the ceiling. 

the kid hears voices in his head as this sniper loads up a bullet… can he figure out what is about to happen?? but the voices just sound like weird noises!!!

noooo, don’t kill this little boy!!! he wins just in time, stands up, and the bullet hits the other guy!!! 

so he knew it was going to happen and won just in time to stand up…

leave this little boy alone!! don’t piss me off!!!

OHHH shortened intro AND new words on the screen today… “THE END” <- now there is a movie coming up shortly so i KNOW this is a lie!!!

i am preparing myself for some sort of cliffhanger….

ohohoho kryek is here today, according to the “guest starting” list…. getting ready for some rat-like activities

CSM is buttoning up his shirt as some people arrive upon his frosty property. they have guns… and his alarms are going off… 

BLAM! he shoots one man dead right then and there!! you really cannot underestimate this guy!!! unless we’re talking about his abilities to write fiction!!!

so he’s running barefoot into the snow??? yowch! bloody feet!

the guy in the mask catches him! OH SHIT! IT’S KRYCEK!! “go on! take your shot, alex” <- HOT DAMN! not the first name usage!

he says he was sent to being CSM back…….. by whomst?

there is a sticky note on mulder’s poster. i can’t tell what it says!

OH mulder has a picture of him and scully pinned to his board🥹that's fine that's super fine and i'm not gonna cry!

it’s skinner poking around their office!!! what is he doing down here??

HE WANTS TO KNOW MULDER’S LONG TERM PLANS?! and mulder says they’re right in his hands, referring to the x files

skinner loves his most special and difficult agents. it's true!

“what do you hope to find? i mean, in the end” (mulder looks at skinner suspiciously) “whatever i hope to find is in here. and maybe i’ll know when i find it”

now what is going on…..? something is afoot. somehow i doubt skinner just got randomly curious and started reading through the x files for the funsies.

skinner has a case for him: the assassination of a russian chess player. and agent spender was put in charge of the case by someone from OUTSIDE the bureau!! oh, that must be what has skinner so freaked out. who tf is just putting people in charge of cases?

(i mean, we, the audience, know the answer to this. but if i were skinner, i would be deeply uncomfy at the thought)

“he was very specific that you be excluded” (mulder smiles) lmaoooo

skinner's messy for that!!! and i giggled!!!

BAHAHA scully is in the room listening to spender debrief, and when mulder walks in, spender looks SO mad!! “please continue”, mulder says, after spender gets so caught off guard by seeing him that he literally cannot finish his sentence

you can try to separate mulder and scully, but the universe will find a way to reunite them. like a bonded pair of kitties. 

mulder asks him to rewind the tape and spender says basically no LMAOOO

“let me get through this, if you have any questions, we can talk later” “i-i don’t have any questions, no, i just think you’re wrong” <- LMAOOOOOO i’m at once giggling and cringing in second hand embarrassment 

mulder hates this dude, i'm crying!!!!

scully asks wtf mulder is doing, and he explains he thinks the killer was aiming for the boy!! spender reluctantly does rewind the tape, and mulder points out that the kid pushes back right before the bullet is fired. 

who is this random lady agreeing with mulder that the kid could sense the bullet coming…? he looks utterly shocked to hear her say this!!

and skinner says rewind it again so we can all see for ourselves LMAO everyone hates this spender mfer

(listen. sorry to this man, but i think it would also piss me off if some random guy got put in charge of an investigation because outside forces decreed it to be so)

sure enough, when spender rewinds the tape, the kid looks right at the camera!!! mulder turns to this random woman again in amazement 

meanwhile, krycek is bringing CSM back to the syndicate on a random side street. OH SHIT!! CSM calls them out right then and there for trying to kill him LMAOOO

that had to be awkward as hell! i'm giggling

CSM moves on from that pretty fast. he seems like the type to hold grudges, so perhaps this is part of his secret plot for revenge.

the well-groomed man (and i know that isn’t his name, but i can’t remember what it actually is, and when i tried to google it last time i got spoilers so: to me, he is WGM) says: the boy is a problem to us!! and i say: leave him alone!! let him play chess!!

CSM offers to kill the kid and well-groomed man says “dear god”... umm, well y’all were just trying to do that, so why now are we getting squeamish...!!!

this other dude is called “first elder” by the subtitles! good to know

CSM says he’ll do it… and walks off.

so this lady that was sticking up for mulder is named agent fowley, and scully is making polite small talk as mulder drives them... somewhere. she requested reassignment. hmm…

“1991, that’s about when you started work on the x files”, scully points out. “more or less, yeah”, mulder says. and does not elaborate.

(long lingering eye contact between mulder and fowley)

now… is this woman who i think she is……?

the boy (named gibson) is watching the simpsons. OH SHIT!!! “my name is fox… this is dana and diana”

SHE IS WHO I THOUGHT SHE WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh man. oh man. okay, so i know a tiny bit about this. going bonkers rn.

what i DO know is enough to realize that diana is a controversial topic among the fandom, but i vow to speak my truth. as i always do. and i hope you will treat me with the grace you typically have afforded me.

gibson says he lives in the philippines, that mulder has a dirty mind, and he does NOT want to play any chess. yes, he truly is a psychic.

scully is like wtf is he going on about…. and mulder accuses the boy of being able to read minds

“i know what’s on your mind. i know you’re thinking about one of the girls you brought” (mildly amused scully look) “one of them’s thinking about you”

diana laughs and asks which one… gibson says mulder doesn’t want him to say.

(shakes head) hey! what’s going on?

mulder declares that gibson needs around the clock protection

oh, a canon-typical fight in the hallway between our agents on if this is possible or not… diana is listening in…. “you know what to do, diana”, mulder says before leaving <- hey. i don’t like that. the tone with which he speaks nor the implication of there being some pre-scully lilith-like figure.

“so you two know each other”, scully points out. “it was along time ago” (long lingering scully glance)

OHHHH spender is NOT letting mulder talk to the assassin… “you’re insulting me when you should be taking notes”, he says <- DAMN!!! the ego on this man! he isn't entirely wrong, but there is no humility about him!

he pushes past spender and gets into the cell, where the shooter claims spender hasn’t given him food or water. mulder orders him off to go get some. 

ohhh he’s playing hardball… he tells the dude that he’ll tell spender he fessed up to the kid being psychic… and if he cooperates with him, maybe he can get him into the witness protection program… does mulder hold this kind of influence?

mulder steals the food that was being brought for him. mulder! you're being a dick! on many fronts!

AWWW, scully and gibson are holding hands as she walks him down the hall :( he didn’t like the tests! poor kid! and he says scully’s wondering about “that other girl” and “she’s wondering about you, too” 

hey…. i get the sense we are pitting two bad bitches against each other via this little boy's mind reading. not a narrative choice i am fond of.

now a group of people are testing gibson for psychic abilities by holding up cards only they can see.

diana says she’s seen clairvoyants, but never of this skill level. she says she spent time with mulder is psychiatric hospitals?? scully.exe is not working 

she has to leave because she is weirded tf out…

(i don't blame her, though. i would also be very weirded out if my partner of 5 years had another partner he very evidently has a history with and never bothered to mention until she suddenly materialized. if i were scully, i'd be like hey mulder... remember all those times i tended to your wounds and held your sobbing body and broke the law for you? yeah, that was super cool. i love how we trust each other. anyway, wtf else are you hiding from me?)

((and i'm not saying that is necessarily the RIGHT or RATIONAL thing to feel, but c'mon. you can't look at me and tell me you wouldn't also be equal parts stung and curious))

shooter guy is being handed a note. it’s on a cigarette pack!!! and it says "you’re a dead man"!!! oh brother... not the CSM on the loose! how is he getting into these buildings still?!?!

LMAOOO???? WHAT IS SCULLY DOING WITH FROHIKE?!?!

look at her looking up into his camera system... she is just so PRETTY!!

bro is in his pajamas and has an absurd number of locks on his door. and i'm giggling!

she’s bringing the whole crew scans of gibson’s brain!! “and you want us to what?” “analyze the data. with an eye to the parapsychological” <- OHHH they’re gagged by that... and i am too! scully opening herself up to extreme possibilities?! or simply trying to anticipate and counter mulder's argument in favor of the kid's clairvoyance?

OHHHH.... SHE WANTS TO KNOW WHO TF DIANA IS LMAOOOOO 

i can’t tell if she’s jealous, or nosy, or both. but i can tell you that i love when scully is nosy. 

frohike says she was mulder’s “chickadee” (LMAO, crazy phrasing) out of the academy. she was with him when he discovered the x files. and she has some sort of background in parascience. whatever that means.

NOOOOO scully looks so sad 💔💔💔 MULDER, DON’T HIDE THINGS FROM HER!!! SHE’LL CRY

stop. stop!!!

gibson is watching cartoons while diana watches him. and here comes mulder. OH, she called him fox. don’t like that. i thought he was adamantly anti-being referred to as fox! is that a development from the past 5 years, or does she not care about what he thinks?

“i sense you could have used an ally, though- someone who thinks like you, with some background” HEY. WATCH HOW YOU TALK ABOUT SCULLY!!!

“oh, you mean scully?” now is that defensiveness i see in his eyes? he doesn’t sound like he’s laughing.

“she’s not what i’d call an open mind on the subject” <- well, diana, you don’t even know her!!! and just because you're right doesn't mean you should go around judging her!

he laughs, but it doesn’t feel like he really means it….

(i was trying to psychoanalyze everything in this godforsaken scene and i had NO idea what the vibe actually was LMAOOOO)

“she’s a, uh… she’s a scientist. she just makes me work for everything” <- HEY!!! what happened to her being “rigid, but in a wonderful way”??? defend her honor in her absence!

“yes, but i’m… i’m sure there were times when two like minds on a case would have been advantageous” <- well girl, from what i've heard, it sounds like you left and went to germany!

“i’ve done okay without you” okay. are we setting boundaries now? is this progress?

NO. it does not appear that this is the case. she is grabbing his hand. “hey. i’m on your side” side eye. from me. sounds like she is implying scully is NOT on his side, which i loathe. and please don’t kiss... i don’t want to see all that. 

where is scully going….? OH NO!!! she walked by and saw them holding hands!!

oh my god, she is leaving….. and i don’t blame her!!

the sad music!!!! stop!!!!! look at her sadly getting in her car!!!!! sadly staring at the wheel!!! sadly buckling up!!!! 

she sounds like she’s going to cry as she calls mulder and says she wants to show him something. and she doesn't want to show it to him there.

now why is agent spender rolling up as she heads out?! we have enough problems to deal with at this time that aren’t him!!!

OH SHIT!!! CSM IS TALKING TO HIM!!!! saying he gave him the case!!!!

he’s trying to give him some fatherly advice despite the fact this dude has no idea they are related. “you’re a bright boy” okay… well that is certainly an avuncular thing to say. perhaps uncomfortably so when coming from a guy you literally just met. “know which men to sacrifice and when” <- now that's some standard CSM advice.

OH SHIT!!!!!!! MULDER SEES HIM!! CSM retreats into the shadows. “i was told he was dead”, mulder pants. “well obviously whoever it is, he’s not” spender has literally no idea who tf this guy is………..

(laughing even harder at his response as i edit my notes. spender must think this mulder fellow is the weirdest dude alive)

i’m kinda laughing, because spender has no idea wtf is going on, while mulder’s world just got rocked upside down and inside out. that’s the devil that killed his dad and took his scully and killed scully’s sister!!! he thought the evil was defeated and it is back!!! poor spender is just here to chat with a stranger. he truly doesn't know anything about the situation! it's comical!

scully and mulder and all of spender’s team are in skinner’s office!!! she has the brain test results from gibson… and she is finding the results hard to believe…

something something about him having intense brain activity in the god something or other. maybe he is the next einstein??? well, that would be cool! yeah, get the little boy into nuclear physics!

but mulder thinks that maybe this intense brain activity will allow him to also explain all sorts of unexplained phenomena. 

i guess i can see the correlation between intense brain activity and psychic abilities, but how will it let him explore the jersey devil?

mulder proposes giving the killer immunity to explain wtf is going on, which spender immediately shoots down: “you want to give a murderer a free ride for the secrets to the pyramids?” <- well that is an oversimplification!

ANGRY SCULLY!!! “you mischaracterize what i’ve said” <- GET HIM AGAIN FOR ME!! “this would be quantifiable scientific proof of everything that agent mulder and i have investigated over the past five years”

i don’t really see the correlation from a plot perspective but okay ❤️ yay ❤️

oh diana, i am suspicious of you…. “how do you quantify the spiritual? it can’t be done. you ask for immunity for a killer on that basis, the attorney general’s gonna go off. you’re allowed to investigate the x files as an indulgence. but draw the wrong kind of attention and they’ll close you down”

okay………… rude. but not necessarily wrong. in fact, she seems quite right, at least about the attorney general shutting down the case part. clearly, some levels of spirituality can be quantified if the results show up on brain scans; scully will use science to find a way. scully glances at mulder, who is staring at diana

“put an end to all your work. something i happen to have an interest in myself” WELL NO ONE ASKED???? girl! it isn't your project!!

perhaps i am the one who will need immunity from the attorney general as i bravely ask the question i am thinking: am i bad feminist, or is diana supposed to piss me off?

scully’s watching mulder stare at diana……. skinner says, everyone go take a break. but you may absolutely NOT leave my office, mulder. 

he says that diana is right. if they poke around too much they’ll get shut down- but mulder is willing to risk it!!!!!

“if what agent scully’s found is true- and i have every reason to believe that it is- then the answers i might have spent a lifetime searching for may fall together like a million puzzle pieces” <- OHH!! FAITH IN SCULLY!! FAITH IN SCULLY GIVING HIM THE TRUTH!

“you’d risk the x files?”, asks skinner.

“how soon can you call the attorney general?” 

so, there is your answer.

mulder is always having some sort of power struggle with skinner. hey. can mulder, buddy. can we use a "please" and "thank you" every now and then? your old pal skinner has put up with a LOT of your nonsense!

bro is in his cranky era.

ohhhh, so he goes and tell the shooter that he gave his request for immunity, but the attorney general needs more information before she can make a decision… “i need answers from you” UH OH!! will he have them before CSM breaks in? because we know he is stalking his prey!

he says the kid is a missing link; he’s genetic proof. spender wants to know of what, and this is very convenient, because so do i. so he thinks the kid is part alien….. spender is heckling him for this. but CSM is on the prowl… we don't have time for interpersonal conflict!

(so, maybe he's part alien but distantly? or maybe they made one of the alien hybrids like emily, but this one didn't die? why did emily die, again? because we know there are plenty others of the alien hybrids because they had that whole bit about saving "their mothers" back in... i think it was s3? maybe a bunch of them, like emily, die, but some of them do survive, and gibson is a son of the half alien? so he is a quarter alien? or maybe he is from a different alien race?

everything is a bit foggy when it comes to mytharc, i suppose. i guess it all comes down to the writers wanting to torture my best friend agent scully)

well-groomed man and krycek pull up to heckle CSM, which is an important part of their job description. they’re saying he failed them, but CSM says it’s all part of the plan. take their pieces one by one. 

hey, you’re gonna kill the kid, aren’t you?

at least JFK was a grown man!!!

do you think he bulk ordered the cigarettes from like, the cigarette equivalent of sam’s club, and had them sent to his snowy canadian hideaway? i mean, the number he goes through, it should have raised some red flags for the people trying to find him!

scully is watching the boy watch cartoons. she is pondering. 

“how do you do it?” “i just hear you thinking… like on a radio. and sometimes there are lots of radios, and i want to shut them off and watch some TV” <- you know what, that is entirely understandably.

gibson says that scully doesn’t care what other people think… “except for her. the other one”

is she trying to impress diana…..? has she moved beyond vying for people's approval after the horrors of cancer and emily, or is it manifesting in a new way as she hopes this mysterious figure from mulder's past will approve of her? does she think that if diana likes her, mulder will let her in about his past? does she feel a solidarity despite their differences in belief because of the fact they are both women in a male-dominated field?

the implications... i must explore them.

ah. and in diana comes. 

scully says they’ll talk about that stuff later. queen of knowing the time and place to have a debrief. and he says “they want to kill me” OHHH poor little gibson :( just let him watch cartoons!

scully promises no one will hurt him :( and he says “i know you do" :(

is diana going to kill the kid…..?

(author's note: LMAO!! listen... i thought they were going with the double agent angle for about 2 minutes. in my defense, i'm still shocked from the whole krycek and marita thing, so i'm trying to expect the unexpected. this is not the most wildly incorrect plot point i have guessed!)

the shooter gets another note…  this time it’s an empty cigarette carton, and BAM!!! CSM SHOOTS HIM!!!

well. there goes any possibility of an explanation.

diana fell asleep watching gibson and he’s looking out the window!!! he says there’s a man with a gun!!! and he says he’s aiming at her!!!! and BAM!! she gets shot too!!

hey guys! once again i ask what’s going on.

mulder and scully are pulling in while diana gets taken into an ambulance. and mulder’s grasping her hand while scully just wants to know where tf the kid is!!!!

the shooter was killed!!! skinner shows mulder the cigarette carton!!!!! 

NOOOO!! CSM has the boy and is bringing him to the well-groomed man. gibson called him a liar when he said he won't get hurt.

“you’ve never had the stomach for our business”

“just not for your practices”

“i’m a necessity. the complement to your cowardice” <- omggg……..

the dichotomy between CSM and well-groomed man... were the girls writing old man yaoi back when this aired? because i bet they would if this show dropped now.

(i was about to joke that if we all work really hard now, we can make that ship trend, but how tf can you write romantic fanfiction between two nameless characters? yeesh. that has to be a pain. "the well-groomed man moved in closer towards the cigarette smoking man, inhaling his burnt, acidic scent; he knew he was as bad for him as the cancer coursing through the other man's bloodstream" <- yeah, i didn't enjoy typing that, and it isn't fun to read either)

“your work is done now” SO WHAT ARE THEY GONNA DO TO THE BOY???

“my work is just beginning” nope. do not like that. 

well-groomed man leads gibson into the car driven by krycek, who says he has a nice straight shot at CSM!!! but well-groomed man says not to shoot. you may need him in the future.

krycek is the last man i would trust with a child.

WOAHHHHH mulder is ATTACKING SPENDER saying he will get him PROSECUTED FOR MURDER!!! “you’re wrong, agent mulder, it’s your days that are numbered” <- NOW WHAT DOES *THAT* MEAN??

is he collaborating with daddy to kill mulder or lead him down an incredibly intricate path leading to his peril?!?

NOOOOO, skinner is on the phone with scully in mulder’s apartment 💔 spender is going after mulder and there are talks of reassignment!

his first question when she gets off of the phone is about diana….

NOOO, the justice department wants to close down the x files 💔💔

mulder says this is all part of plan he couldn’t see and walked into

“this time they may have won” NOOOOO💔💔💔💔you have to find some faith!

CSM is in mulder’s office………. looking at the files….. PICKING OUT THE ONE ON SAMANTHA………… WHERE IS HE TAKING IT???

TO SPENDER?!! “who are you?” “i’m your father” <- YOOO, I DIDN’T THINK HE WOULD JUST OUT AND SAY IT??

DID HE LIGHT ALL THE OTHER FILES ON FIRE???

HOLY HELL, HE DID???

mulder is here in his t shirt and scully is here in a lab coat and they find their whole office burnt to a crisp!!!!

she grabs his arms and leans in, putting her head on his chest as he looks around in fury

woah…. woaugh……….

the end.

CSM ruined the work of their whole lives!!!

this is why archivists are so important. because they always keep files saved on at least 3 sources. inshallah the good FBI archivists had them on a bunch of floppy disks. please please please.

(i started to type “on a bunch of flash drives”, but then i realized idk if those were popular, effective, or invented at the time. and a floppy disk really couldn’t hold much. maybe there is a huge cardboard box in one of the back rooms with all of them backed up! i like the ones that were colorful!)

well, now there’s a damn movie i need to watch!!! but first i have to get all of my s5 content sorted out!!!!

i have many questions. i have a terrible feeling that poor boy is gonna end up another sacrificial lamb. and i know that CSM saved the file on samantha to keep the fire burning beneath mulder, just enough so he meets his dastardly plans. damn. this guy really is an evil genius. which does not translate to literary talent.

what is spender going to do? is he going to believe that CSM is his father? will he follow him in dastardly deeds, or will he reject them? i mean, he sure isn't a believer in aliens like mulder is, so learning his father is basically a diplomat to the alien people isn't going to go over well. or is he going to stand up to daddy and save the day, probably nobly sacrificing himself in the process?

what about scully? i just KNOW she blames herself for gibson getting kidnapped because she promised him he would be safe, and she's all torn up about mulder hiding things from her!!! poor scully!

and mulder, what is he going to do about the reappearance of diana and then her sudden death or near-death? will he stop being so cranky anytime soon? it doesn't seem likely, but a girl can hope.

and i wanna know what is going through skinner's mind, too. because he really is like an uncle to me. i remember my earlier posts about not trusting him, and i think that narrative was intentionally cultivated by the writers, but now i'm thinking, man. that's my ride or die. skinner, i should have never doubted you. not only that, i love your little house buddha and desk globes and i wish i could slap mulder across the face for the way he acts towards you!

well, i have a lot of work to do with the s5 wrapups before i can dive into this film, and so work i must. and perhaps i will save the film for next weekend when i can focus appropriate attention.

i also expect that the movie writeup will be VERY LONG. and my writeups are already SO LONG. i tossed around the idea of splitting it up into parts, but i think it will be better to just do it all in one go. unless there is a very clear midpoint spot where i can divide the post in two, which i doubt???

will diana grow on me? will the movie be enjoyable? will scully get a damn break? will CSM and WGM kiss? will krycek continue to be a problematic bisexual?

hmm. well, stay tuned, and share all of your thoughts!

[arietheyluv]

GIRLS NEED LOVE!

— a scaramouche x reader smau —

— 2. bozo

6:32 am

this morning was a cold one, you're freezing but that's alright, you'll get used to it at some point. feeling anxious about being alone in your class, will you even make any friends with that humor of yours? maybe, maybe not.

opening the door to the cafe you see lumine and ayaka, like usual, yoimiya is a little late.

"yn, your drink came to the table faster than you" lumine says while ayaka signals for you to sit next to her. you do as such and take a sip of your coffee, and then take a bite of the cookie on lumine's plate as she stares in disbelief.

with a mouth full of cookies, "I have math as a first subject, I need a rope" you complain and scroll through your phone to show the girls your class schedule. math, computer science, english, english again, history, then art.

"you have mr. albedo for art, he's a nice teacher, just don't accidentally or intentionally spill water on him" lumine says, she starts talking about all of the teachers and which of the ones were asses and which were good at their job.

time goes by, at some point yoimiya arrives to pick up ayaka, and eventually the clock hits 7:20, having not finished your coffee, you prepare to bring it with you, "yn, since you're going earlier do you want aether to guide you to school? just so you don't get lost and have someone you can ask questions" lumine offers.

"aether?.." you trail off, who is aether?

"my brother, the one with longer hair than me" oh. before you can accept her offer she goes into the back of the cafe and you can hear her yell at what you could guess is her brother.

seconds later, lumine and her brother come out of the back, or the kitchen, whatever you call it. "introduce yourself, what are you waiting for dude" lumine hits aether on the shoulder.

"ow– what the fuck–" another hit on the shoulder cuts him off, "uhm hi I'm aether, we're classmates right?" he steps away from his sister who is staring bullets into his head.

"yeah, I'm yn, can we get going now I don't really have the time to be late sorry" you nervously laugh, aether nods and grabs your bag for you. "see you later lumi!" you say as you close the door of the cafe.

— (⁠✿) —

on the walk to school, you kinda just followed aether around, sipped your coffee, and didn't speak much, it wasn't super awkward though, just a bit.

"hey uhm y/n, i need to go meet up with some guys, our classroom is just right at the floor above us, i think there's a sign anyway, you'll probably find it" he says in an apologetic way and runs off into the distance, "yeah no problem that's okay with me!"

you wished he didn't leave you, 2 minutes later you bumped into a guy and spilled your coffee onto his uniform. "I am so sorry let me get that for you–" he cuts you off, "leave me alone, and watch where you're going, stupid"

what a rude guy, it was an accident and he calls you stupid? he wasn't watching where he was going either, what a bitch, but anyway, you brushed it off and chilled around until the bell rang, then you went inside the room.

you saw two familiar faces, aether and the rude guy you bumped into talking to each other, the tables were grouped in two and the only seat available was next to the rude dude.

seeing you enter the room, aether gestures for you to come over and so you do. "yn, this is my friend scara" he introduces, wanting you to make friends probably.

"this is the girl i was talking about aether" scaramouche titters, you sit down on the seat next to him and he scoots away from you a little, "the one who bumped into you and threw coffee at you?".

"I didn't throw it! It was an accident I'm sorry" you apologize and he doesn't even acknowledge it, just snickers before talking to aether again.

girls need love!

previous — masterlist — next

imsosososo sorry the picture quality on the last 3 screenshots was bad, idk whats wrong with my phone rn

hi, its 5am and im severely dehydrated, lets make hwachae

ok just clearing this up, ayato doesn't chat so much because he's busy eating and being a diva

comment to be added to the taglist!

IN WHICH: as you move from your home country, mondstadt to inazuma you find yourself having a hard time to adjust to your new life. It doesn't help when you accidentally spilt your coffee onto one of the richest students in your new school, and what makes it worse is when you find out you have to spend a whole year with him, as your roommate.

taglist (open): @goodvibesonlyxd @usagiarchive @bananasquash @shidouuuliner

[humanityissstrange]

Humans Are Weird: Christmas Trees

Zork’ak did not mind being alone. 

Though soon, he realized he wasn’t. Holding still, he swore he heard voices, and softly, he trailed after them. After a few more turns, he could understand the words. 

“-telling you that I know how to drive the damn thing.”

“I heard you almost wrecked it.”

A few steps closer and everything became clearer. 

“I did not!” That was Steve, Zork’ak was certain. 

“That’s not what Kai said. She said you almost flipped the damn thing,” Lyle answered. 

“Maybe I should drive.” Xander was quieter than the other two. “I’m not sure you are the best option.” 

Keeping his weight balanced and light, Zork’ak followed them without them seeing. He knew humans well enough now to know that this was the best way to get answers. 

“It’s a short drive and neither of you have done it.” Steve’s voice was low. He was angry, Zork’ak could tell. 

“Maybe not.” Lyle did not sound convinced. “But I have been on plenty of excursions. More than you if I remember correctly.” 

When the three started to descend, Zork’ak could no longer keep his presence hidden. The narrow downward ramp would expose him, and if he waited too long, he might not be able to follow where they went. 

“None of you will be driving,” he said, grinning when the three guys jumped. 

“Zor!” Steve spun around, hand to his chest as he kept his voice low but nearly reprimanding. “You scared us.”

“No shit,” Lyle muttered. “I’m sure that was the intention.” 

Zork’ak only nodded, not interrupting them. One thing he had learned - but had not reported - was that humans often gave all the answers he needed if he was silent long enough. 

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Steve demanded. 

This made Zork’ak laugh. “I should ask you that.”

“Steve, shut up.” Xander shoved him. “We were just walking around for a bit,” he said to Zork’ak. 

The Klyl shook his head. “You don’t need to drive to walk around.” 

“Shit,” Steve muttered, and this time, Lyle shoved him. 

At one point, Zork’ak didn’t know how to handle the humans’ behavior, much less understand it. Now he found them…amusing. An emotion he had finally come to learn. It seemed the humans had made him feel it more than anything else. 

“Where are you driving to?” 

He didn’t expect an honest answer to his question. A human answer would have been something similar to their previous excuse - lacking logic. But to his surprise, Lyle actually answered. 

“We want a Christmas tree.” Xander slammed his hand into the back of Lyle’s head. “What the fuck, chucha?” 

Steve chuckled, and even Zork’ak smiled. It was rare that the humans slipped back into their native language, but occasionally, it happened. Lyle and Xander were both staring angrily at each other. 

“Why would you tell him that?” 

Lyle rubbed the back of his head. “He’s going to figure it the fuck out. So let’s stop wasting time.” His eyes shifted to the Klyl. “Are you going to help us or not?” 

“Help you?” This straightforward method was unusual to him. Every time Zork’ak thought he had come to understand the humans, he was wrong. 

“Yeah?” Steve stared at Lyle. “Help us?” 

“I’m willing to bet that you need some kind of ID or biometric scan to turn on the crafts.” He gestured to Zork’ak, who nodded. “So if you want a damn tree, we need his help.”

“What is a Christmas tree?” 

He was used to Adam’s explanations, but it was much simpler when Xander pulled out his tablet and showed him a catalogued species from Earth. A fir tree, it was marked. A large growth taller than him. 

“It’s a…” What was the word Adam had used before? “A plant.” 

“Yes. A giant one.” Steve leaned forward, typing something out on the tablet until a catalog of Christmas information that Zork’ak had reviewed opened. On it was the same fir tree, but with lights and small, round objects on it. “We decorate them and put them inside. We’ll put all our presents under it.”

“It’s important to your Christmas party?” 

“Very.” 

Zork’ak nodded. “Then let’s find a Christmas tree.”

He led the three out, as they argued among themselves over the fact that Lyle was not a ‘dumbass’ and they should be ‘grateful that he fucking asked.’ He said nothing as he selected a carrier, using his biometric scanner to log his activity. As a Superior Officer, all codes were overridden and the carrier unlocked, the storage door opening to let them out into the night air. 

Steve took the seat next to him. “I’m driving!”

“Oh, fuck,” Lyle muttered. 

Xander shoved him. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Isn’t that why we are here?”

“No! I’m here as a damn scientist.” 

Before Zork’ak could even respond, Steve had switched the cart to manual. Knycuz must have shown him how to do that. Then his palm was on the sphere, shoving it roughly in the direction they needed to go, the cart jolting under his touch. 

“Hold on!” 

Then, they raced into the dark with the wrong person navigating.

 *

This is an excerpt from a full Christmas novella now available on Amazon! To get the book in all its chaotic holiday, get Humans Are Merry by Brooke Hart! Available for FREE with Kindle Unlimited! 

[lynnaredfield3383]

Not my characters. Angst. HQ.

Sometimes, it's just too late. Too much or not enough time has passed. Sometimes, a simple jackass remark can ruin the best thing from ever happening.

These thoughts currently flooded Osamu's mind as he smiled down at you.

"Ya look as beautiful as ever," Osamu smiled.

You don't even blush, you just hold his gaze proving whatever hold he previously had on your emotions no longer existed. It broke him.

"Thanks. I hear Onigiri Miya is doing great. I'm glad you ended up where you wanted to be."

"Thanks. Means everythin' coming from ya. Ya always had my back, always supported me."

You smile and nod.

"We were besties."

Osamu winced at the past tense and wished he'd stop being so open with you. Now was not the time. 6 years ago, maybe even 4 years ago. Not now.

"Yeah. I, uh heard yer gettin' married. Anyone I know?"

"Iwaizumi. We never lost touch while he was overseas. You still with Ani?"

Osamu saw something, maybe anger flash through your eyes. It was so fast he couldn't be sure.

"Yeah, but I don't think it's gon work out."

"I'm sorry, truly. You deserve to be happy. I need to go, but it was nice seeing you."

"I'm sorry...Us endin' up like this...Like damn strangers. I never wanted that."

You hesitate before taking a step closer and then sighing as you opened your arms.

"Its okay. One last hug, c'mon."

Osamu brightened up before accepting your embrace. And damn if it didn't feel like home all over again.

"Dump him...Marry me..."

Osamu couldn't stop the words from forming, let alone slip from his lips. Your arms tightened around him for a moment.

"I can't. I really am in love with Haji."

You stepped back and the cold wrapped itself back around Osamu like a death grip.

"I just need a second chance, please," Osamu was only this desperate because it was you.

"I don't have those feelings for you anymore, Miya. I really do wish you the best," you smile and walk away.

[pastafossa]

"Don't Let Go" (Michael Kinsella x F!Reader, Fic)

Time for Day Six of the Tuna-Tober prompt challenge! I chose the angst prompt, "Shh, I've got you now. I'm here." with Michael Kinsella! I originally planned to use all three prompts (the above plus 'love bites' and 'spread your legs for me') but this one just sorta worked beautifully focusing on the angst prompt alone, despite my plan. May come back and do a sequel with the other two prompts eventually. You can see the rest of the prompts I've chosen here if you'd like to know what's coming this month from me. Also, if you'd like notifications when I post a new story, drabble, or chapter, you can follow my sideblog @pastaxandria and set it for notifications! And off we go!

Ship: Michael Kinsella x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1.1k

Warnings for this chapter: angst, blood, injury care, mention of reader briefly held hostage, language, mention of domestic violence, some shouting and breaking things (Michael is very angry here, just not at you).

His hands shaking, Michael cleaned you up in the bathroom.

You weren’t sure if that tremor was due to fear, or… or exhaustion, maybe. He probably hadn’t gotten much sleep the past two nights while you’d been missing, held captive in an abandoned building by a group of men who’d been looking to blackmail the Kinsella family. It hadn’t worked out well for them based on the dead bodies you’d seen when Michael had grimly carried you out past his brothers, his hands stained heavily with blood and smelling of fresh gunpowder. 

It was those hands—the very same hands that had so recently dealt out death and destruction—that now tended gently to your wounds. With barely a word save a soothing murmur whenever you winced, he washed away the crusted grime and dried blood from your body in the shower before settling you down on the side of the porcelain tub. Once you were comfortable, he set about cleaning out and bandaging the bloody cuts on your hands and face, the torn skin on your wrists left by the handcuffs, and the burns along your forearm from the cigarettes one man had decided to put out against your skin when you’d spat in his face.

With every injury Michael cared for, however, the more his hands shook, his breathing growing sharper, hissing out from between his clenched teeth. 

No. This wasn’t fear or exhaustion making his hands shake, you realized. This was… 

He rose from where he’d been kneeling in front of you. He stared down at you for a moment with those dark eyes of his, taking all of you in for the first time since bringing you back home—taking in every last swollen bruise and vicious cut, every bandage and mark of pain left behind by those who had wanted to harm his family by using you against him.

…This was rage.

He snatched up the first aid kit, turned, and hurled it with a furious scream. It shattered against the wall in the hall, its impact leaving a crumbling hole in the drywall. Gauze and ointment, bottles of pills and splinters of plastic scattered left and right.

“Michael,” you said weakly. “I’m ok now.”

It was as if he hadn’t even heard you. “I’m goin’ ta find the rest of ‘em and kill 'em for this!” he snarled savagely, his accent even thicker in his fury. Gone was the gentle lilt, the familiar softness he always seemed to gain in his voice when he spoke to you or about you. Now he was every inch the dangerous Kinsella that so many feared, though not you. Never you. Even now you weren’t afraid, despite the way he whirled and paced wildly in front of you, as if looking for the very same ones who’d so recently hurt you. This was rage in your defense, and that made all the difference. 

“Michael—”

“They think I can’t find ‘em?” he spat. “They really think I can’t? I’ll hunt down every last fuckin’ one’a them filthy little cunts fer puttin’ their hands on ya! By the time I’m done wit’ em, there won’t be enough’a their fuckin’ bodies left for their mams to bloody bury!”

This time it was the drinking glass on the counter that paid the price. It flew out into the hall to shatter violently against the wall just beside the mark left by the first aid kit. Glittering shards of glass, some pieces still damp, joined the rest of the debris on the floor.  

“Michael.” You heaved yourself upright on shaky legs, wobbly as a newborn fawn. And it hurt, it hurt to move, cuts tugging, body aching. You tried to blink the dampness away in your eyes, not now, come on. “It’s alright—” “Don’t tell me it’s alright when they hurt ya!” he roared. But the moment he swung back around to face you and saw you on your feet, he spat out a curse. He stormed across the bathroom before you could take more than a step. “Daft woman, sit your arse back down before ya fall over!”

One hand still braced against the wall, you lifted your other arm quickly towards him. He lurched to a stop before he could touch you, an expression of horror twisting across his face, all furrowed brow and parted lips. Only then did you realize what that must have looked like to him—your arm held up to fend him off, trying to stop him from coming towards you, tears in your eyes as if you were… as if you were terrified of him and what he had been doing. 

Gone in a breath was the rage, the fury, replaced by a gutted, heartbroken grief. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have said he was about to cry, too. “Ya didn’t think I was goin’ to…” he whispered, swallowing hard and taking a cautious step back. “I… I swear, pet, I would never—” 

“God, no, Mikey. I know you weren’t going to hit me,” you croaked, trying to put your arm out again in a more welcoming way, and if your breath started to hitch, tears now beginning to roll down your cheeks despite your best efforts, well, surely you were entitled to that, because it had been a horrible few days and the longer you stood here, the more you began to shiver and hurt. It had only been a few minutes since you’d been in his arms, but your body clearly wasn’t ready yet for even that much separation. Emotion welled up inside you like a dark wave, endless, bottomless. You were terrified you’d drown beneath it without him to help you keep your head above water. “I was trying to… could you come over here and… and hold me? I just need…”

He caught you just as the first choked sob tore its way out of your throat, the strength of the sound so violent, so raw it almost frightened you. One of his arms quickly wound around your waist, pulling you in against the comforting, familiar warmth and strength of his chest. His other hand rose to gently cradle the back of your head, bringing your head down so you could bury it against his neck. He rumbled low, soothing notes into your ear, tender words of comfort as you desperately tried to breathe in the scent of whiskey and leather, gun oil and rain between your heaving breaths and broken sobs.

“There ya go. Shh, I’ve got ya now, pet,” he whispered, laying his cheek against your hair. He shifted the two of you carefully across the floor until he could ease himself down on top of the toilet seat, pulling you slowly into his lap. You went without a fight, clinging to him, the fabric of his shirt held tight between your fists as if it were your lifeline. “I’ve got ya now. Let it all out. I’m here, darlin’. Yer safe with me.” 

“Don’t let go,” you choked out, “Please.” “Never. I promise.”

[sulky-cabbage]

The sukugo fight can't get animated any sooner I'm craving sukugo tiktok edits

[soleilapproves]

The one where Toji gets a buzz cut.

Masterlist

-•-

You dropped the grocery bags on the ground when you were greeted by your boyfriend.

But not out of excitement or happiness.

“No! Your glorious hair!” You dramatically walked to him so you could take a closer look at the damage. Toji, being the evil man he was, laughed at your response. “What d’ya think? I hated my hair covering my eyes while I was on missions so I tried something new.”

“Something new? You look like a felon!” You groaned as your hands roamed around his scalp, hoping for a miracle that would grow his hair back.

“Alright, that’s too far. I thought chicks dug this look.”

“Not on you! Maybe some weirdo that doesn’t look like an assassin for hire.”

“But I am one.”

“That’s besides the point, Toji. You’ve hurt me. By cutting off your hair you’ve also cut off any ties you had with me.” You sulk.

Toji was starting to feel self conscious even when he knew the adjustment phase would go away. “Do I really look that bad, doll?”

“No, but-“

“There’s a but? Okay, that’s it, I’m not touching you from now on. Since I look so bad, you can come to me when you find me attractive.” Okay this was turned into a real argument and you started to get agitated too.

“Fine! Let’s see who’ll last longer.”

Toji simply scoffed and walked back into his man cave.

Who knows how long you guys were planning to do this for?

-•-

A long time. You both can go without touching each other for a long time. It had been a week and a half without any physical intimacy but the relationship was normal, you both spoke about anything and everything. Neither of you were showing signs of caving in (or were just that good at hiding it).

It was a quiet afternoon. Toji was out buying some last minute ingredients for dinner and you were starting to miss him. And as much you hated to admit, the buzz cut was growing on you. Just the other day you had to fan yourself when you saw Toji doing pushups where he looked like an underground fighter prepping for his next match.

To distract yourself you decided to spend your time calling your friend instead. You put her on speaker while you organized your closet.

“Girl, what do you mean it’s ugly? It’s all the rage right now.”

“I know. I hated it when he first got it and now all I can think about is pouncing on him. Ugh, I hate myself.”

“You live together. Just go touch him, you fool.”

“No, I’ll lose and I can’t lose to him. He’s always winning bets between the two of us.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes until your friend had some urgent business to attend to.

You turned around to grab the rest of clothes and shrieked when you saw a tall figure standing in the door way.

It was Toji. “Did you hear everything?”

“I’ve been here since you admitted that my haircut was hot. Do what you will with that info.”

You sighed as you sat down on the bed. “I guess that means you win.” He could tell you were pouting even when you were turned away from him. He smiled at your childishness and gathered you in his arms and made you lay on top of him as he laid down on the bed. “There, you won.”

“No, it doesn’t work like that. I admitted that I wanted you first so you’re still the winner.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know I’ve been thinking about pouncing on you since the day I got my haircut. I wanted to do it out of spite cause I knew you’d cave in but then we made that stupid bet.”

“Ugh, I’m so stupid. You do not look bad at all, Toji. In fact, you look like a hot felon. The type of felon that has a girlfriend who visits him.” You mumbled as you played with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Uhuh, and does she do overnight visits?” He then started attacking your face with kisses as you start giggling.

It was you and your hot felon against the world.

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 1

LN x fem!leclerc reader

part 1 of 2 -> find part two linked HERE!

in which you just can’t help yourself and neither can lando…

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!! hi sorry it’s been a while but we are back with what i hope is a bang lol. i’ve missed writing so much and as stressful as this was, i’m so so glad to be uploading something! i worked hard on this one and, of course, now i hate it whoops, but my girlie @lavenderlando made this possible and worth it. that’s my hype woman fr fr. N E WAY enjoy! lemme know what you think, and use some imagination for the timeline…

songs to set the vibe: i love you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams, 2hands by tate mcrae, love in the dark by adele, illicit affairs by taylor swift, think twice by suki waterhouse

warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!),

part 1: 10.3k words

1. oncoming traffic 

“hey, osc, who’s that girl hanging around leclerc? thought he was still with alex.” lando tries his best to sound nonchalant, but oscar can see through him like a freshly buffed window, the way lando clears his throat and nervously ruffles his unruly hair. 

“mate, i know you’re not the sharpest but i didn’t think you were that slow.” oscar laughs, side-eyeing the brit. he was baffled that lando was even asking. lando just shoots him a glare. “wait, you really don’t know?” lando’s glare hardens further, his eyes demanding an answer and oscar just laughs. “that’s his sister, you idiot. how have you never seen her?” 

lando didn’t know how he’d never seen her. this year had been nonstop, what with the pseudo-championship battle and the never ending media shitstorm that rained on him whenever he reared his head. he’d also learned in his years of racing never to look too closely at the women in another drivers entourage. that’s how you ended up in the wall during a race. but charles’ sister? how had he never noticed? 

“maybe i should go and introduce myself.” lando trailed off thoughtfully, his voice remaining playful. oscar snorted beside him, adjusting his racesuit. 

“ooh, yeah, send twitter into a frenzy. it’s been boring lately.” the aussie driver drawls sarcastically, successfully dodging lando’s rapidly approaching elbow to his ribs. 

“glad to know that you take pleasure in my never ending public humiliation!” lando grins maniacally, sauntering out of the garage, no longer any intention of seeking out the pretty girl in the short, black skirt. it was for the best. 

he’s passing through the pit box, immersed in a groupchat thread with max and p about a trip to portugal that he didn’t really want to go on, and bam! like the idiot oscar had just accused him of being, he slams blindly into oncoming traffic. 

oncoming traffic: the pretty girl in the short, black skirt.

“are you incapable of looking where you’re going?” your accent comes out thick, low with rage. it tickles his brain, like he’s heard it before. lando opens his mouth, like a fish out of water, closes it again pathetically. “seriously, for a pilot you have abysmal spacial awareness!” 

“sorry… what the fuck.” lando mutters. why is this woman shouting at him like she knows him? like he regularly barrels into her? 

“lando, yes?” you’ve calmed down a bit now, but you still speak through gritted teeth. 

“…yes?” he replies like he’s not so sure. 

“learn to look where you’re going.” you wrinkle your nose, composing yourself before stepping around him and strutting down the pitlane as if nothing had happened. 

lando stands there, fixed in place, watching her walk away in utter confusion. 

“smooth!” oscar calls from inside the garage, flanked by several laughing mechanics. 

“go fuck yourself!” lando’s flushed red, now, and beeline’s for the pit wall. 

he’s out of earshot when oscar says it. 

“think he just met his wife, boys.” 

-

lando is staring at the data on the screen when it hits him, will’s voice somewhere far away all of the sudden. 

the mysterious leclerc had every right to reprimand him, because she was right. he did need to learn how to look where he’s going. 

she’d told him that already, during their actual first meeting. 

-

2. the first collision 

the music was too loud, suffocating him along with the overbearing smell of cheap perfume, but the alcohol in his system and the outpouring of validation kept lando going. 

three time race winner, lando norris. 

five years of clawing back points and grabbing at podiums with two impatient hands had built up to this, to the incomparable glory of gracing that prestigious top step, and lando wasn’t about to let go of this moment just because of a pressing headache. max and pietra were waiting for him in a booth, surrounded by the rest of lando’s touring entourage. he was wracking up quite the tab, but it was all worth it. every slap on the back, seductive grin sent his way, made it worth it. 

he’s stumbling over his feet, wasted, or close to it, grinning lazily, peering through hooded eyes. the vodka cranberry in his hand is sloshing dangerously around in the glass, his careless movements propelling him towards disaster. 

lando hears the splatter of liquid, first, the scoff of disgust immediately after. long hair whips against his face as she turns, eyes wide with fury, set into a face that was never meant to look angry. he can smell vanilla, flowers. she’s an angel, turned devilish under the strobe lights, her delicate face morphing when he takes in the sight of him. 

“are you fucking serious? mon dieu!” her accent twists his tummy, as does the increasingly see-through material of her tight white dress, layers of chiffon turning transparent with the stark red liquid. it’s all over her back, running slowly down the length of her exposed thighs, sticky. lando stands there, utterly transfixed and useless. she looks like she might slap him; he kind of wants her to. “of course, just stand there. fucking pilots.” 

she mutters the last part and lando gulps. what does she know about other drivers? the implication makes his skin crawl for no reason, the idea of this nameless, mystery woman being familiar with his co-workers. he’s flushed with embarrassment for a multitude of reasons, opening his mouth just to close it again. 

“‘m sorry!” he finally calls out to her, over the music. can the dj turn that shit down? “can i buy you a drink?” she just glares at him, gesturing at her ruined dress. “or… a new dress?” lando tries again, flashing what he hopes are puppy dog eyes. 

he wants to take her back to his hotel room, lick the sweet liquid off of her frame, lap at her til she’s clean and crying. he wants to peel the stained white material off, tear it a little - it’s already ruined anyway! he can’t, though, because she’s wrinkling her nose at him, eyebrow raised, judging, and he’s awash with embarrassment all over again. the club spins and he feels nauseous. he finds max’s eyes on him, his friend stifling laughter at the tragic scene. 

she’s gone when he looks back, seems to have disappeared into a cloud of distinctly expensive perfume, and her friends are curling their lips up at him, dismissive. they don’t care who he is. he wonders if they’re redbull fans, ferrari fans, perhaps. 

he’s met with hoots of laughter as he slumps into the booth. he grabs a shot without a thought, doesn’t even register what liquor it is as it slides down his thick throat. 

“can’t believe you just did that. only you would spill a drink all over leclerc’s sister.” max teases, elbowing him playfully. 

“wha- he has a sister?” lando slurs, spluttering. 

he doesn’t remember much after that. 

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and others.

youruser: shoutout to the guy that spilled his drink all over me!

francisca.cgomes: so beautiful so slay i miss u already

alexandrasaintmleux: love you!!!

charles_leclerc: delete this 🤦‍♂️

and other comments.

-

3. the watchful eyes of the big, black horse 

your arm is linked with kika’s, giggling with her as you walk through the paddock. 

“what about him?” kika whispers, pointing her chin towards one of the passing alpine mechanics. he’s blonde, pale, eyes dark.  “pierre said he heard that he’s good with the ladies.” she wiggles her eyebrows and your cheeks heat up, swatting her playfully. 

“i am not about to get a reputation for sleeping my way through the paddock.” you scoff. “plus, he’s not my type.” you shrug. 

“you need to start putting yourself out there more, you keep saying you want someone.” the portuguese girl reasons. you nod sheepishly. 

“i don’t wanna look for something, i want it to find me. is that pathetic? i just see how you are with pierre, how alex is with charles, and that’s what i want. something… real.” you sigh. kika sees the way your eyes gloss over with sadness. 

“it’s never as easy and as perfect as it looks, babe, trust me. and anyway, maybe just focus on… the thing you were telling me about.” kika lowers her voice, giving you the look.

“shut up!” you squeal. “god, i am not discussing that here!” 

“discussing what?” you hear pierre before you see him, hot with embarrassment. you’ve know him since before you could even walk, which is why you have no problem voicing your deepest, darkest shame. 

“how i’m not getting laid, apparently!” you drawl sarcastically, slapping your hand over your forehead. 

a poorly concealed laugh that you don’t recognise has you whipping around, eyes wide with bewilderment. it’s hearty, smooth, surprisingly warming. you practically growl when your eyes land on the source of the noise, standing next to pierre who looks embarrassed for you, his lips pressed thinly together to prevent himself from cackling. 

“why is he here?” you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes so tightly shut that you feel a pang in your temples. 

“as polite as ever.” lando smirks. you open

your eyes just in time to catch him eyeing up the skin of your thighs that your skirt doesn’t quite cover. is he checking you out? 

“says the drink spiller.” you bite back, rolling your eyes. 

“hey, i tried to pay for the damage.” lando looks utterly amused, pink lips still twisted into a punch-worthy smirk. 

“so, you’ve met lando, then.” pierre grins, staring between you both. you don’t register the way he’s trading looks with kika, watching whatever this scene is unfold. 

“unfortunately!” you smile tightly at the racing drivers. 

“pretty sure you walked into me that second time. distracting me in the workplace, or something.” lando chimes in, enjoying this all a bit too much. 

“if you did a better job at looking where you’re going-“ 

“okay, so this has been delightful!” pierre buts in, knowing that you have the shortest temper of all the leclerc offspring. “you,” he points at you. “get laid. you,” he points at lando. “don’t piss her off, you won’t like the result.”

kika can only send you a sympathetic smile, and remind you of the coffee date you have scheduled for tomorrow morning, as she’s dragged away from your place of social suicide. pierre winks, tilts his head far too pointedly for your liking towards lando. you fantasise, in that moment, of clawing his eyes out. 

“i am sorry, for the record.” lando smiles at you, genuine and gleaming. something inside of you twists. 

“for which time?” you’re just teasing now, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“you have quite the attitude on you. that why you’re not getting any?”

you’re about to rip his head off and give max an even easier ride towards the championship, but lando steps forward. you can smell old spice, tangy and alluring and masculine. 

“how fucking dare you-“ 

“because most men don’t know what to do with a woman like you. don’t know how to treat them right.” he’s so confident when he says it, leaning towards you in a way you can only describe as enticingly. 

“oh, and you do?” you scoff, arms crossed. you must remain combative, or else you’ll give in. is this rock bottom?

“i’m free tonight if you wanna find out.” 

“i’ll be far too busy doing literally anything else.” you can only pray he hasn’t caught the tremble in your voice, the ever so slight quiver of you bottom lip. you chew it into your mouth to stop yourself. 

“but not anyone else.” lando doesn’t pose it as a question. it seems that he’s got you all figured out. 

“whatever helps you and your hand sleep well tonight.” you spit. there’s heat between you, sparking into a flame that could burn down your whole life. you feel eyes burning into the back of your head - green ones that match yours. you falter. “i’m done here, lando. have a fantastic evening.” 

he takes another liberty, leaning in even closer. spearmint and the idea of a million bad choices flood your every pore. you can feel the big, black horse watching over you, now, set into bright yellow, adorned with ferrari red. looming, warning, turning you in. 

“you know, something tells me i will.” 

lando disappears first, not even giving you a chance you spin on your heel and storm off. you want to kill him, hurt him, sink your teeth into that bronzed, thick throat, claw into his back, down, down, down… until you’re on your knees and- 

“why were you talking to lando?” charles’ voice cuts through your filthy thoughts and you sign yourself over to god immediately, purifying yourself as you banish the visions of delicious sin. after all, you’re standing in the presence of il predestinato, the prince of monaco, a saint to many. but to you, he’s just your brother. your big brother, always in the way, always meddling, always, always watching. you sigh. 

“friendly conversation.” you quip, short. you love him dearly, would take bullets for him, but, god, he keeps you on a leash. leo’s has more give than the conceptual tether charles has to you, keeping you close, boyfriendless, out of “trouble”. you know why, and deep down, you’re beyond grateful, all things considered. you can’t admit that, though. 

“that’s not how pierre described it to me.” charles raises an eyebrow, voice bitter despite the clear attempt he’s made to try and hide it. 

“fucking pierre.” you grunt. “it’s nothing, he came over with pierre. i was with kika. first time i’ve ever even had a conversation with lando.” that didn’t result from a drink being spilt over you to the point of transparency. you leave that bit out - charles really doesn’t need to know that. 

charles mulls over your words, eyeing you suspiciously. you want to stomp your heeled foot like a child, a brat, scream and shout and kick and wail that he has to back the fuck off eventually, but you just smile innocently and pray he believes you. 

“okay,” he mutters, making his peace. “i don’t want you getting too… familiar with him. bad reputation. he used to be quite sweet until his last breakup and now he will fuck anything with a pulse.” you wrinkle your nose at your brothers crude words, feeling the need to jump in and object. but why? you don’t know lando, you don’t care about lando. you press your lips into a thin, painful line. “you should go back to the hotel with alex. looks like i’ll be here late.” he rolls his eyes, you know how it is. 

“sure, good luck.” you offer, smothering the rage that pools in your belly. let me fucking live, you think. just because he’d had to swoop in and save you from yourself once before, didn’t mean that you could live like this forever. 

he has lit a spark under you, one that spreads like a wildfire towards the flame that lando ignited minutes before. if only your brother knew how to keep his big mouth shut, you wouldn’t be spurred on to bad behaviour. 

if only lando hadn’t spilled that drink over you, maybe you wouldn’t be opening his instagram profile and sending a message request. 

a place. your room number. a time. 

you only wish you’d gotten to see the devilish grin on his face when he received it. 

lando can’t want you for the reasons that other guys do. your status as charles leclerc’s little sister, and the gateway to your brother that you provided, meant nothing to the brit. that’s why you’d let him have you; he wouldn’t try to take more than you wanted to give. 

-

4. generous 

the knocks are soft against the door, yet they manage to have every hair on your body standing to attention. you’re quick to let him in, itching to get him inside and away from prying eyes. this is clandestine, secret, could even feel somewhat sacred once it’s over, and the last possible thing you could ever need is for another soul to know what you intend to do with lando, what you intend to let him do to you. 

“hey.” 

“hi.” 

you stare at each other. 

he steps forward. you don’t move away. he takes it as an invitation to close the space entirely, so close that, there it is again: oldspice, except this time it’s mixed with something fresh, shower gel you guess, sea salt. his curls are crisper than they were a few hours ago, still damp from the shower he must have just taken. 

“what changed your mind?” he asks. 

“i was feeling generous.” you deadpan. he bites back a laugh. 

“generous, huh?”

“very.” 

“considering your alleged dry spell, i’d say i’m the generous one, no?” his voiced is edged with something dark, dropped a few octaves. you could absolutely squirm under his gaze, but you hold strong. 

“you know where the door is if that’s how you’re gonna be.” you coo, mocking his seductive undercurrent. all he does is flash his teeth, grinning cheekily, his way of accepting your challenge, your attitude. 

“i think you want me to stay, honey.” 

honey. you fear it works on you. the gap closes even further, you fear it’s your doing. 

“you’re only getting this opportunity because i invited you here.” your resolve is slipping. you’ve admitted that you want him in your pathetic bid to hold the power, when the truth is, you want him to pounce on you, strip away every layer and barrier and make you see stars, feel euphoric. 

“okay, honey, whatever you say.” he chuckles, cruel and taunting. “so, how dry of a spell has it been? wanna know what i’m working with.” 

lando touches you then, lightning shooting down your arm as he traces from your elbow down to your fingers, featherlight, barely there, a ghost of a touch that haunts you so deliciously. your fingers intertwine. you initiate it, but really, it’s his fault. this is all his fault.

you try and laugh, but it sounds broken, quivering it’s way out from your dry throat. 

“dry.”

he just stares at you, expectant. he needs to hear more, needs to know. he craves details about you, has ever since you body slammed him outside his garage - leading to some very covert instagram stalking on his behalf and his oh so convenient way of worming his way into a conversation with pierre when lando could see that the other driver was on his way over towards you. it’s pathetic, maybe, but he craves you the way one craves nicotine forever after just one puff of a cigarette. he has you, just for tonight, maybe longer if he gets this right, so he will know everything he needs to know so that he can touch you just how you need. 

“i’ve only… it’s been a while.” 

he sees right through you. 

“you’ve only what?” he presses. he needs to know.

“i’ve only done this once.” you whisper. it’s the meekest he’s seen you. he loathes it. 

“and was it good?” lando murmurs so attentively that you want to cry. 

your fourth interaction with this man, and he has you melting. 

“not really.” 

“do you trust me?” his nose is bumping yours. you’re locked in, twitching. he has both hands on you, now, one still laced with yours, the other trailing up your arm, tempted to brush his fingertips against the taut skin of your neck. 

how the fuck can i trust you? i don’t know you! what the fuck are we doing? what the fuck am i doing?

that’s not what you say, though, because for some reason, you are so sickeningly comfortable and okay that you worry that something is wrong with you. 

“yes.”

“then this time will be so, so much better. i’ll make it all better.” 

when his lips meet yours, you’re surprised at how good it immediately feels. you don’t know what you were expecting, but his lips are plush, enveloping yours softly, but firm enough that you sink into him, allowing him to cement that grip on the side of your neck that he’d been taunting you with. 

he kisses you like he’s sure of everything, like this is second nature and you’ve done it a thousand times. you want to kiss him a thousand times. why it’s so good, you’re not sure, but it gives you the confidence to lean into him, grab the bottom of his hoodie in your hands and tug. 

“be patient, ‘n i’ll make you feel so good, honey, i promise.” he mouths down your cheek, nipping at your jaw, down your neck until he finds that special spot below your ear. he nibbles there, lapping his tongue over your sensitive skin like he already knows your body. you want to see just how familiar with you he can get. “but,” he punctuates the word with a sharp bite. you both dread and revel in the mark it will leave. “you have to behave for me, okay?” 

his words are whispered against the shell of your ear and you shiver, eyes rolled back already. you wonder if he’ll get them to do a full three-sixty rotation in your skull. 

“‘kay.” you breathe, mindless, floating away. it’s already better than last time.

“‘kay’?” he mocks. “no, honey, you gotta promise me. can you promise me?” 

“promise.” you lock eyes, conveying your obedience. his eyes blow wide, pupils dilating to shove away the mysterious bluey green. his teeth grit. he knows he’s hit the jackpot. 

“good girl.” 

you’re stripped naked, mustering all of your energy to shove his clothes off, his hoodie flying away, his sweats kicked into a faraway dark corner. you’re left naked, him in some increasingly tight boxers, and you tumble into the freshly made bed. he slinks over you, crawling on his hands and knees, predator stalking prey. 

he stains your inner thighs purple, tugging your legs over his shoulder, huge hands warm and rough as they manoeuvre your malleable body to his liking. lando presses kisses to every inch of skin, dragging his tongue over your bare flesh before he spreads you open, sucking and tasting and savouring. he moans into you, open and wet, and it ricochets off of every nerve ending, sending your body taut and arched, catlike. you’re trying to get away, whilst simultaneously grinding yourself closed to him, feeling that broad, sharp nose of his bump messily and firmly against your clit, an ache spreading through your pelvis that makes you shake and shake and whine his name out to the gods. 

“taste like heaven.” lando’s words are simple, straightforward, make you bite your lip so hard you taste something metallic seeping over your tongue. “so tight, even around my tongue,” he slurs, drunk, lost. “gotta stretch you out for me. that okay, honey?” you can just about make it all out, and you nod furiously, pleading. 

his teeth graze your clit. 

“say please.” 

“putain! please!” you kick your feet out when all he does is laugh into your wet flesh. 

one finger grazes through your folds, parting them and collecting a mess of your slick. he looks transfixed as it drips down his finger. 

honey.

you watch him watch how he opens you up, revelling in the utter fascination painting his features, pussy drunk and curious, transfixed. 

“can’t believe you’ve never been fucked right.” he coos, breathless, genuinely shocked. you quake under his skilful hands and his awful, sinful, dirty mouth. 

“more.” you plead, not ashamed by your crude begging. you’re a mess for him already, might as well get the full experience. 

“think you can take another?” 

a second finger slides in, rocking against your walls, testing the waters. you writhe, meeting his movements with shallow thrusts of your hips. 

“faster, i need- mon dieu! anything, lando, please just-“ he really goes to town then, scissoring your dripping cunt open, curling and twisting and grinding the two digits so deep that you see white, hazy chocolate coloured curls and deep, glazed over eyes. 

“that’s it, honey, there you go. so fucking pretty for me.” lando whispers the last bit, awestruck, and you’d take the time to wonder why if you weren’t on the verge of tears, overstimulated, ears ringing. your orgasm crashes over you like a surge of electricity, tearing through your body like it’s trying to escape and take cover. it’s so strong that you’re damp everywhere, sweating and crying and so fucking shocked that it can feel like this. 

“lando.” you pant, mouth dry, voice hoarse.  

“you did so good. was it okay?” he rubs small circles into your hips, eyes flitting between your own and where you’re still leaking for him. he manages to tear his eyes away, like a trance has broken, snaking up your body until he’s laying next to you, propped up on his elbow. he hovers over you, raking his eyes over the rising and falling lines of your body. 

“pretty good, i guess. didn’t know you had it in you.” you tease, smirking lazily up at him. 

you want to keep staring at him but your vision is blurring as your eyes begin to droop. what a long day it’s been. 

“high praise coming from you.” lando reasons, laughing lightly. he strokes over your hipbone and you jolt, curling around onto your side. his skin is warm against yours, soft and smooth, and you dare you press your even closer, shy, as if he wasn’t just buried mercilessly between your legs. you hum in response, spent and languid. “you wanna get some sleep?” he asks. 

“we didn’t… i mean, you didn’t…” you trail off, awkward, gesturing towards his middle. 

lando just smiles. 

“guess i’ll just have to come find you in monaco.” 

you flush, cheeks burning as you consider the fact that you’re gonna be in the same country, a very small, very private city. who knows what could happen? 

you fall asleep quickly, easily, far too comfortable next to the british driver. if you were to ask, he’d say he left immediately. he watches the way you breathe far too intently, ever so slowly pulling his clothes back on. he doesn’t know how long passes, but what he does know is that he can’t wait to have you like this again. 

-

5.  some guy 

you sink into the oversized armchair, sitting back and letting kika and alex talk, nattering backwards and forwards about nothing in particular. or, maybe you’re just zoned the fuck out. 

you can’t stop thinking about the way he touched you, your body littered with evidence, dark purple bruises turning a stale green between you thighs. when you woke up, you initially wondered if it was all a dream, but the dull, sweet ache thrumming through your bones told you just how real it really was. you went through the motions, embarrassed momentarily before deciding to just embrace it, try to bask in the way he’d made you feel: sexy and desirable and electric. 

it was just a shame that it had to be him. that’s what you kept telling yourself, at least. 

kika’s nodding along to a story alex is telling about leo, about to respond with a similar anecdote about simba but she gasps instead, almost spilling her americano all over herself. this gets your attention and you open your mouth to ask her is she’s okay, but she beats you to it. 

“my god, what is that?” she chokes, staring at you. or, well, your neck. 

you flush, heated, blood pooling in your cheeks. 

you’d tried to cover it up, seriously, applying layer after layer of concealer and strategically placing your hair in such a way that you prayed it wouldn’t be noticeable, but nonetheless, there it is, clear as day. red raw skin tinged purple around the seams, branded into your neck like some kind of public humiliation ritual. 

fuck you, lando fucking norris!

you avert eye contact, leaning away from alex who is now making a point of leaning in, going as far as to push your hair back so she can get a closer look. 

“oh my gosh!” she squeals, giggling with kika. 

you take a long, slow gulp of coffee, not caring that it burns your tongue. 

“who was it? holy shit, was it lando?” kika whisper shouts and you officially drop dead on the spot, watching her connect the dots so easily. 

“oh jesus, no! no!” you lie, feigning offence, your leg bouncing shamefully under the table. the two girls eye you suspiciously, but you assume you’ve played it off well. 

“who, then?” alex asks. you wonder if kika has told her about yesterdays interaction. 

“just- i don’t even know, some guy.” you huff, playing with a loose thread hanging from your jumper. 

“some guy? after what you were saying yesterday? okay, babe.” kika teases sarcastically. “no, cmon, who?” she pouts, leaning in as well. 

“just… someone.” you squeak, unable to look up at them. 

“okay, well, we will find out eventually.” alex wiggles her eyebrows and you stick your tongue out, mock-glaring at your sister in law. 

“no, the fuck you won’t.” you try and fake some confidence, scrapping for a mere shred of control. 

yes, the fuck they will, because when you leave for the bathroom, you leave your phone unlocked like the utter fool you are. god has it out for you, you figure, because that’s when he chooses to strike. 

the message lando sends you is short and sweet, and alex chokes on a piece of cake when kika starts gesturing wildly at the notification that pops up on your screen. 

for when you’re lonely at home and can’t find anyone to fuck you right.

attached is his address. 

they don’t breathe a word when you come back, but they share a knowing smirk when they catch you smiling at your phone, and again when you ask if either of them have anything with a higher neckline that you can wear for the race. 

youruser has just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris and others

youruser: race day, big slay

user1: LEO!!!

alexandrasaintmleux: prettiest girl in the world

user45: lando what are you doing here 🤔

6.    manners

“are you even listening to me right now?” charles scoffs, finishing off his drink out of annoyance. your eyes snap back to him, the thumping music vibrating through your body. 

“sorry, just tipsy.” you purse your lips, attempting to lock back in on whatever he’s saying, but it’s hard. it’s hard, because sprawled out in a booth across from where you stand at the bar, lando is watching your every move. 

you’ve managed to avoid him thus far, no contact since you’d liked the DM he’d sent you a few weeks back. you’d be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t think of him and what you’d done at literally every waking moment, so the way he’s watching you, hooded eyes sparkling under the strobe lights, has you squirming. it was easier to tell yourself that, surely, it wasn’t that good when he wasn’t right in front of you in a half unbuttoned shirt. the navy blue fabric is wrapped around his body deliciously, taut where his muscles are, the colour popping against his tanned skin - which you can practically feel writhing against yours. 

you wish charles would go away so you could crawl into that booth and commit public indecency. 

speak of the devil, your brother seems to have clocked that you have zero interest in what he has to say so he huffs, ordering another round for the table and telling you he’s going to find alex. he shuffles away and you subtly search for the british drivers mindful eyes, but he’s disappeared, left his entourage in the booth. you swallow disappointment that makes you feel pathetic, head in your hands against the bar top, but the lightest brush of fingers against your waist drags you out of your spiral. you know immediately. 

“did you dress like that for me, or are you just a slut?” he’s grinning, light and teasing, surprisingly sober, tipsy at most, just like you. 

“i could ask you the same.” you smirk, blatantly eyeing his exposed chest. he shrugs, leaning in. 

”might have left an extra button undone just for you.” lando winks and you hope the lights hide the way you flush. 

“sure you did, just for me and every other girl in here.” you challenge. his eyebrows furrow. 

“nope. just for you.” his eyes darken, just a tad but enough that you notice. your mouth runs dry. “you never replied to me.” 

“not true, i liked the message.” you smile coyly, sipping your drink. your lipstick smears against the rim of the glass and you watch him stare at the print, tongue wetting his lips. 

“you are something else.” he shakes his head, pushing his curls back. it could be frustration, but he still seems at ease, like he’s enjoying your combative nature. you smile into the glass, hoping he doesn’t notice. he does. “how much have you had to drink?” 

“this is my second.” 

“you sober enough for me to take you home?” lando’s face is mere inches away from yours now, and you can feel the pull, desperate to crawl into the space that still remains and lose yourself there. 

“depends.” 

“on?” you truly exasperate him, but he thinks he loves it. 

“if you’re actually gonna fuck me this time.” you casually take another sip, playing it off as if your crude words had no impact on you. 

lando’s eyes widen at your bluntness, and so does his grin. 

“meet me by the valet.” 

lando leaves, and you quickly follow, downing the remnants of your glass and touching up your lipgloss. 

-

alex watches from her booth, and pulls out her phone. 

to: kika gomes 

oh, she’s deeeeefinitely sleeping with lando!!!  

-

pietra leans towards her boyfriend, close enough that he can hear her over the noise. 

“isn’t that charles’ sister?” she shouts, pointing to the bar, where lando is stood. 

max analyses the way he’s stood, leant  against the bar, nice and close to the ferrari drivers little sister. he knows that look on lando’s face, and he knows it far too well. max pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“oh for fuck sake.” 

-

it’s weird, sitting with him in silence. he’s only had half a drink, able to drive back through the winding hills to his apartment. you stare out the window, mostly, when you aren’t staring blatantly and curiously at lando. you can see the sea, glistening under the moonlight and you wish you could focus on that instead, but he’s there, and you have to admit - begrudgingly, albeit - that he’s stunning. his hands wrap around the wheel tauntingly, as if he’s trying to convey how he’ll touch you, all consumingly. your thighs press together, your fingers clasping together as if you’re subconsciously stopping yourself from reaching out for him prematurely. 

as if he can hear your thoughts, his palm smoothes over the skin of your bare thigh, right where your dress has ridden up, without a second thought, nothing tentative about the way his digits curve around your skin. 

“so, you’ve been thinking about that night, then?” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you. 

“what makes you say that?” you whisper, not even meaning to but the silence had been so heavy. 

“well, you only left with me on the condition i’d bend you over.” he laughs loud, whole and warm. you fight it, just for a second, but then you join in, giving in to him. you can’t help it, he makes it easy. 

“you got me.” you concede, rolling your eyes. without realising it, you’ve relaxed completely into his touch. 

he pulls off of the road and into a private garage. you breath hitches.

-

“do you want a drink or…?” lando gestures blindly towards his kitchen, walking further into the apartment. 

he’d spent the elevator ride up to his place leant against the opposite wall, taunting, making you wait. he’d let himself look at you, totally unabashedly, raking his eyes over your frame, meekly tucked into the corner, shy under his intense gaze but frustrated by his lack of urgency. 

“i’m good. didn’t come here for a tea party.” you hope your words push his buttons. they must, because he turns on his heel, facing you again, suddenly towering over you. 

his eyes are steel, face serious, and you don’t know what to do. you’ve never seen him look at you like this. 

“i think we need to work on your manners.” he speaks condescendingly, down at you, and if you weren’t so needy, hadn’t been waiting weeks, you’d turn around and leave just to really prove his point. but you stay planted, looking up at him through mascara coated lashes, softening you gaze until you’re sure you’re conveying faux innocence. 

“maybe we can work on them in your bedroom.” you truly don’t know where you get this confidence from, he’s the second man to have ever touched you so intimately, but he’s magnetic, drawing you out of your own head and straight towards him. 

he tugs you towards him, kissing you messily, right there in the dim light of his kitchen, pawing at your waist hungrily. his tongue brushes your and you moan, humming into his mouth at the faint taste of mint and vodka, long gone but you can taste everything. his thick fingers find your ass, hoisting you up until you have no option but to wrap your legs around him, your dress scratching at your thighs the higher it rides up, but all it does it turn you on more, rough sensations on sensitive skin. 

lando walks you blindly to his bedroom, never breaking the kiss, and you wonder how many times he’s done this to get it down to muscle memory. the thought makes you nauseous, drags you mercilessly right back into your head, and you pull away, your lips barely brushing his. 

“why me?” you breathe, panting into the shallow space where your mouths have parted.

“what?” he whispers, confused. 

“why do you want to do this with me?” you have to check, past insecurities rising to the surface like bile in the back of your throat. he looks genuinely baffled and you feel foolish for ruining the moment. 

“why wouldn’t i? you’re gorgeous and-“ he cuts himself off, his eyes glazing over. the demeanour slips and you’re stuck, his arms still tight around you, holding you close in the empty space at the foot of his bed. 

“what?” you whisper. 

“you’re part of the same life.” the way he looks at you says words that he can’t. 

words that will sound too shallow and too selfish and too meaningless, even though you will understand them because you’re here for similar reasons, and therefore, they will mean too much. 

you can’t take things from him. you can’t fake it. you can’t break him into a million pieces when he finally discovers that you want him because of what he can give you.

you nod once, firm.  

“i get it.” you smile sadly. lando wants to know more. he can find out some other time. a moment of clarity passes between you. “kiss me, again?” you ask. he delivers immediately. 

kisses you all the way onto the bed. kisses you while he helps you take off your heels, while he drags the zipper of your dress down. you both feel safe now, understood, and that really moves things along. 

“so pretty.” he mutters into your skin, shedding you of your tight dress. 

your shaky fingers work over the buttons of his shirt, peeling it off of his broad shoulders, taking in the sight of him all over again. you’re left in your panties, braless already, and he gawks down at you, like he’s seeing everything for the first time. it makes you feel powerful. 

“can you hurry up?” you writhe, arching into his touch. he smiles, covering his body with yours and pressing a kiss to your lips. his fingers slide over the curves of your body, finding the band of your underwear and toying with it. 

“want me to take them off?” he purrs, trailing his lips down your jaw to just below your ear. 

“now.” you beg, eyes fluttering closed as his warm breath pricks at your skin, teeth nibbling. “no marks.” you whine, flashing back to the weeks over knowing looks and attempts at covering the last one up. 

“what were we saying about manners, hm? gonna need to start hearing some ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, okay, honey?” he bites down again, harder this time, and you squirm underneath him, your soft belly moulding to each dip of his abs.

his fingers dip into your panties, finding your clit amongst your wetness. you just about bite back a moan, but you can’t help but roll your hips into his hand, his fingertips gliding easily through your folds. 

“va te faire foutre.” you mutter, teeth gritting at the pleasure and his words. go fuck yourself.

“i’ve lived in monaco long enough to know what that means.” lando whispers, pinching your clit once before plunging a finger inside of you. 

you hiss, head thrown back, the feeling of him smiling against the hickey bittersweet. and to think, it was almost healed. you can’t help but keen into his touch. 

“more,” you pant. “please.”

“you learn fast.” lando approves, and quickly fulfils your request, adding another finger. 

they flex inside of you, grinding deeper and deeper until you’re whimpering his name and leaking down his wrist. your arms wrap around him, nails digging in to his smooth back, his ropey muscles tensing under your firm touch. his thumb bumps your clit, over and over, pushing you to the precipice, so close you can taste the impending orgasm on your tongue. 

“it’s so good, merci, god.” you sound wrecked already, and lando can’t wait to see how far he can push, how far apart he can take you.  

“that other fucking loser didn’t know what he had, jesus, you’re so fucking hot.” he rasps, admiring the rise and fall of your chest, how your breasts bounce with every thrust of his fingers, the way his hand is glistening in the low light of his bedroom. his words are your undoing, the awe in his voice sending sparks shooting through every nerve ending. 

“lando, ‘m gonna… putain!” the way you switch languages is sexy to him, tells him how scrambled your brain is, and he twitches in his boxers. when you cum, it’s as gorgeous and as enticing as the first time, and he jolts against your hip, desperate to get inside of you finally. 

“you’re so beautiful.” he groans, pulling his fingers from your entrance. he stares blindly at the mess you’ve made on them, salivating, remembering the way you taste. it’s a no brainer for him, and he licks both digits clean, giving you just a moment to recover. 

“i need you.” you whisper, your legs still spread, quivering slightly. 

you pull him in once more, his covered crotch grinding against your slick and you cry out, the friction sending you into overdrive. his teeth dig into your shoulder, the sensation entrapping him, leaving him weak, ready to give you whatever you ask. he pushes his underwear away, and your eyes go wide. 

“you can have me,” he grunts, running his hand over himself. “think you can take it?” he wets his lips and you think you could cum again at the sight of him. sweat slicked, tight curls falling over his eyes, lips licked pink and kiss swollen, hard and heavy in his own hand, body curved over yours possessively. you’re a simple woman, really. 

“i think i can try.” you want to sound confident, but it comes out as a squeak. 

he sits back on his knees and brings his free hand to cup your jaw. 

“i’ll go slow with you, honey, okay? you can tell me to stop.” lando promises. “you sure you want this?” 

you nod, pouting up at him. 

“i want you, i can take it.” you manage through a deep breath. 

the stretch is brutal, splitting you in half. all you can do is breathe, watching the way he watches you, and that’s what you hone in on, his pretty eyes watching where he’s filling you up. when he bottoms out, he stops for a second, scanning your face for discomfort. 

“are you okay?” 

“c’mere.” you coo, and he falls back over you, paws at your waist. “move, lando.” you plead. 

it’s slow, deep, makes your toes tingle. you can feel each and every drag of him against your walls and it makes you dizzy, a knot twisting and tickling in your belly. your fingers are twisted around him, around his biceps, crumbling a little bit every time he flexes in your grip. 

“oh, mon dieu.” you’re whimpering, legs wrapping around him like vines, tighter and tighter with every buck of his hips. 

“‘s it feel good, honey? yeah? you’re so fucking tight for me.” lando chokes, licking over the sweat on your collarbone. “‘m i making it feel good?” he sounds so cocky, sexy, but there’s a soft edge around his words. it matters to him, how he’s treating you, this, a certain delicateness hanging around your intertwined bodies like a cloud. 

“so good, lando, so fucking good.” the words scratch your throat raw, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. 

“no, no, lemme hear you, pretty girl. can feel how close you are for me.” you can hear the edge to his voice, can tell the end is near for both of you, the way his words wobble despite his best attempts at hiding it. “need you to look at me, and i need to hear you.” 

you don’t even realise until then that your eyes are shut, screwed up tight as the pleasure rolls through your body, flooding each and every one of your senses. you free your lip, and everything pours out, whines, raw slurs of his name. 

“i’m so close.” he grunts, watching the way your face moves, hanging on to every micro expression, the way you battle to keep all of your attention on him. 

“fill me up.” you urge, squeezing his hips between your thighs. his eyes widen, the request slowly registering, and he blinks away the voice in his head telling him to do it. 

“you know i can’t.” he’s firm, sensible even if you aren’t. 

“want it so bad, lan, please, wanna feel it.” you reason, cupping his face and pushing his curls back. 

“not tonight.”

“yes, tonight. give it to me.”

“i said no, don’t be a fucking brat.” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“know you want it.” you whisper, seductive and devious. you can see his resolve slipping, tightening around him. 

before you can say anything else, your hands are scooped up, pinned above your head. he’s right over you now, your hips perfectly aligned, and he’s driving so deep that you swear you can feel him in your tummy. his thrusts resort to a harsh grind, digging into each other with every snap of his pelvis. 

“you want it so bad? huh? fine.” he growls, forehead resting against yours. “want me to cum in you, fuck it all back in? yeah, honey? you gonna keep it all in for me?”

“whatever you want.” you promise, eyes rolling back in your head. “just- please, please do it.” you pant, mouth dry. 

“that’s it, pretty girl, take it all for me.” he buries his face in your neck, nipping at your collarbone. “doing so good.” the words fan against your throat, hushed, leaving you warm from the inside out, brainless. 

when you spill around him, it’s at the same time as he lets go, and he fucks you through your orgasms. you go limp beneath him, taking it, letting it all wash over you, letting him wash all over you. you feel like you can’t breathe, suffocating under the weight of him and the reality of what you’ve just done. again. for some reason, you don’t care, and decide that you’ll do this again and again, anytime he’ll have you. not that you’ll ever tell him that… 

“fuck.” he exhales, rolling off of you carefully, but the overstimulation - and then lack thereof - makes you wince, and he strokes your hip gently in apology. 

“that was better than i thought it would be.” you grin, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“you know, these are starting to sound kinda backhanded.” he beams, laughing breathlessly, but just as he begins to relax into his bedspread, he remembers. “oh fuck, shit, we need a pharmacy!” lando bolts up so that he’s sitting, scanning the room blindly for his clothes. you giggle and he snaps his head towards you, panicked. 

“no, lando, we don’t.” 

“all of that ‘uh, fill me up, please lando you’re so sexy’ talk means that, yes we absolutely do! fuck, how much is plan b these days?” he’s spiralling now, tugging at his curls. 

“first of all, i’m on birth control. second of all, i don’t sound like that, and most importantly, i did not call you sexy.” you smirk, stretching out your tight muscles. 

“that’s the most important part? woman, you nearly killed me.” lando gasps, slumping back down into bed. 

“‘m sorry, couldn’t resist playing with you a little. good to know we share a kink, though.” your smirk turns into a coy smile, and you swing your shaky legs out of the bed, your feet sinking into the plush rug. 

“oh, yeah? what other kinks are you hiding from me?” lando sits back against the headboard, tucking his hands behind his bed. you have to look away, or else you’ll accidentally fall back into his bed. 

“guess you’ll have to wait and find out.” it makes him quirk an eyebrow, a look of understanding settling over his face. 

“so this is gonna be a regular thing, yeah?” 

you’re putting your underwear back on when he says it, searching for your dress, but his words make you freeze. he sounds hopeful, and it makes your chest pang… wait, is that your heart?

“i don’t… i mean, as you unfortunately know, i haven’t done this before. i don’t know how this works.” you say it so earnestly, so innocently, that his whole face softens, awestruck and boyish. 

“i want it to be a regular thing.” he says it gently, like he’s offering it to you, to the universe. 

“okay. me too.” you whisper back, shy under his gaze. 

“are you… like, do you think you’ll be sleeping with other people?” lando squeaks, doing a terrible job of playing it cool. 

“for so many reasons, no.” you grimace. “but if we’re doing this then i wouldn’t want to anyway.” you say softly. your dress is back on now, but he has you flustered, and you can’t quite get the zipper. 

“lemme help.” he offers, and he’s out of bed and before you in a matter of seconds. his calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls the zipper together and up, adjusting your dress back into place. it feels so terrifyingly intimate, exciting, and you can’t bring yourself to move away. “i wouldn’t want to either.” he breathes the words quietly into the small space between you. 

“okay.” you don’t even try to hide the way you beam, staring up at him. 

“i’ll take you home, yeah?” 

“yeah.”

-

7.  worth it

and so, begins a clandestine affair, touches in the shadows, subtle glances, watchful eyes. 

one of you calls, the other comes, sneaking through doors that neither of you should enter, leaving bars a few minutes apart, making up excuses to get out of plans. 

there’s the time lando has you bent over the end of your bed, tears leaking into the mattress, slick everywhere. he’s so deep this way, hammering away at the special spot nestled within you that he’s become very familiar with. one of his hands is dragging your hips back to meet his thrusts, the other splayed out across your back, holding you down. 

your phone rings. it’s alex. you were supposed to be a brunch twenty minutes ago. you groan out, frustrated in every sense of the word. 

“answer it, honey.” lando grunts, pulling you towards him even harder. you whimper, shaking your head, words dying on your tongue. “go on, i know you can do it. wouldn’t want alex to worry, would you? let her know you’re okay.” he coos, condescending. 

he’s so arrogant, full of it, and you like the challenge. you can’t let him win, can’t let him revel in how fucked out he has you, so against your better judgement, you grab the phone, fingers shaking as you answer. 

“hi, love. i know, i’m late! ‘m sorry, i’ll be there soon!” you wince at the way your voice shakes. you hope she can’t hear the way you’re panting, or the sound of his hips hitting yours. 

lando slows his hips, hitting deep at such a torturously slow pace that feels a million times better than it already did. your free hand flies back, swatting at him. 

“where the hell are you? i was worried!” alex sounds relieved, but there’s something else in her tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.” you lie, throwing your younger brother into the line of fire. you know, for credibility. alex is silent for a moment. 

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” and with that, she hangs up the phone. you release a breath you were holding, crying out when lando immediately speeds up again. 

“i hate you.” you choke, grinding your hips into him. lando just scoffs, sliding a hand under your belly, flush against the mattress. he finds your clit, playing with it, urging you quickly towards your release. 

“no, you don’t.” he laughs. “you better cum for me, pretty girl, i think you have somewhere to be.” 

-

“i’m on my way, i promise! i was with arthur.”

alex has to bite back a laugh. she stares across the table, where arthur is having an avid debate with charles and joris. arthur, who had been with her and charles for hours. 

“oh, okay. well, get here soon, please! love you!” alex hangs up the phone, giggling to herself. leo stirs in her lap. 

“what’s so funny?” charles asks her. she shakes her head. 

“oh, nothing, she just overslept.” 

-

there’s the time where he has you hiked up on your kitchen counter, messy curls tickling the insides of your thighs. he’s licking at you ravenously, dragging his tongue up and down, twisting around your clit in circles. 

you’re tugging on his hair, holding him close to where you’re aching, dripping, slicking up the lower half of his face. he’s groaning into you, starved and desperate. it’s been a week since you’ve seen him, had him like this, the longest you’ve done without him since the first time you’d had sex. its untamed and needy and you fear what it means, the way you’re so addicted to one another. 

you also haven’t seen your brother for a week, something you realise when you hear a key turn in the lock, down the corridor. you have seconds to react, the noise washing over you like a bucket of ice cold water. you squirm, pushing a very confused lando away, managing to kick him lightly in the head as you leap from the counter. 

“mon dieu! fuck, i’m sorry!” you gasp. 

“what the fuck is going on-“ you cut him off, slapping your palm over his mouth. 

you glance around frantically, looking for a way out of this. there is but one option available. 

“the balcony! just- fuck, get out there!” you shoo him over to the small window, begging him with your eyes. “please! i’ll get rid of him!” 

you can hear footsteps approaching. you’re sweating now, smoothing down your skirt and your hair anxiously.

charles calls your name, rounding the corner  and walking into your kitchen, just as you pull the window closed again. 

“shit, you scared me!” you fake, clutching your chest. you can feel your heart hammering. 

“i did knock, sorry!” charles looks you over, scanning the kitchen. “are you okay?” 

“yeah, fine, sorry, i must have been out of it. i’m in the middle of an assignment.” you lie. 

“oh okay, well i can always go…” he’s looking at you weirdly, and you fear he knows something, that he can tell. 

“can we get dinner tonight? i’ll book.” you offer, scratching your neck. 

“yeah, that’s great. are you sure you’re okay?” your brother asks, turning to leave. 

“promise, yeah, i’m just so busy with work, deadlines and all that.” you wrinkle you nose, feigning distaste. 

“well you can tell me all about it later, okay? love you.” charles says sincerely, smiling. 

“love you too.” you call, listening for the sound of the door closing behind him. 

you immediately rush for the window, throwing it open, peeking your head out. lando stands with his back against the wall, shivering in nothing but a t-shirt. you look at him sheepishly. 

“get back in here.” you tell him, standing back to give him space to crawl back through. “‘m sorry.” you giggle. 

“you’re lucky you’re worth it.” lando teases, stalking towards you and wrapping you in his arms. his skin is cold against yours, and you huff, try and push him off. “hey, i’m cold!” he pouts. 

“you know, you’re lucky you’re worth it, i could have just let him murder you.” you reason, looking up at him. your hands slide around him, returning his embrace, warm hands skating up under his shirt. 

“you wouldn’t.” he says simply. “i’m way too good in bed.” 

“you keep telling yourself that, norris.” 

“i don’t need to, you tell me more than enough.” 

lando leans down to kiss you, then, nothing all that unusual but it always feels like a step too far, intimate in a way that you two usually aren’t. you kiss him back regardless, because really, you love it. he always tastes minty, divine when you let him lick into your

mouth. 

“i believe we were in the middle of something.” he whispers. 

“remind me.” you breathe. 

-

and there’s also the time where he’s fucking you in his drivers room, the massage table thudding dully against the wall with every hard thrust. 

his race suit is pulled down just enough, your dress bunched around your hips, and he’s slamming into you mercilessly.

the whole thing was a blur, really; you’d always vowed that you would never have sex at a race track, but that promise was old news, now, broken the very second you caught the way he was staring at you. his eyes were hard, unreadable, jaw clenched as he glared at the man talking to you. you were just being friendly, catching up with franco, but lando wouldn’t have it, not after such a shitty race. one harsh snap of his neck towards the mclaren motorhome had you quickly excusing yourself. you knew what it meant. 

“you don’t talk to me at the track but you let him?” lando growls, rutting into you wildly. you cling onto the damp material of his racesuit, head thrown back. 

“was just saying hello.” you gasp out, opening your eyes to look up at him. he’s staring down at you, angry. it’s hot.

“i don’t wanna see you talking to him. you see how he was looking at you? fucker should know who you belong to.” he hisses, sliding his hand between your legs. “you’re gonna cum for me when i say, okay? and you’re gonna be nice and loud, honey. no holding back.” 

“lando i’m-“

“when. i. say.” he cuts you off, punctuating each order with a snap of his hips. 

all you can do is take it, dripping all over him. you can hear it, the wet squelch of him filling you up. 

“should mark up this pretty neck, yeah? let everyone know that you already belong to someone.” 

you barely register what he’s saying, but the words leave you hot, pushing you even closer to the edge and you clamp down around him. 

“squeezing me so tight, bet you’ve wanted me all day, huh, honey? saw you looking at me earlier, pretending like you weren’t when i caught you. couldn’t just asked and i would’ve fucked you right then.” lando grunts. you wail out, thrashing against the makeshift bed and he nods, letting you know it’s okay. 

“that’s right, pretty girl, that’s it. been so good letting me have you. cum for me, baby.” 

baby.

it’s the first time he’s ever called you that. it’s the final push you need. 

he collapses into you as he finishes, sweaty curls plush against your bare shoulder. you’re both panting, spent, basking in the moment of silence.

“thank you.” he whispers, sealing it with a kiss against your neck. it tingles, a foreign feeling settling in your belly, shooting through your veins. 

“you drove really well.” you reply, quiet. his breathing halts, a self deprecating laugh filling the room. 

“don’t do that.” 

“what?” 

“act like you were watching my race. charles have a great drive, that must have been a lot more interesting.” 

“maybe, but i was watching you.” 

your words hit him hard. he can’t help but kiss you. you swallow a moan, and a whole heap of feelings that you’re too scared to tackle. 

“you better go. will i see you in brazil?” 

“yeah, lando. you will.” 

youruser just posted on instagram:

tagged: francisca.cgomes

liked by: alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc and others

youruser: hola chica 🤭

francisa.cgomes: my love my loveeeee

user21: once again i am asking. why are you here lando? 👀

user56: stop inventing!

alexandrasaintmleux: my beautiful girlies

user66: icon mother slay incredible

-

PART TWO IS HERE!

taglist

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[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Anxious Attachment Style

Common Anxious Thoughts, Emotions, and Reactions

THOUGHTS

Mind reading: "That’s it, I know s/he’s leaving me."

All-or-nothing thinking: "I’ve ruined everything, there’s nothing I can do to mend the situation."

"I’ll never find anyone else."

"I knew this was too good to last."

"I have to talk to or see him/her right now."

"S/he can’t treat me this way! I’ll show him/her!"

"S/he is so amazing, why would s/he want to be with me anyway?"

"I knew something would go wrong; nothing ever works out right for me."

"S/he’d better come crawling back to beg my forgiveness, otherwise s/he can forget about me forever."

"Maybe if I look drop-dead gorgeous or act seductive, things will work out."

Remembering all the good things your partner ever did and said after calming down from a fight.

Recalling only the bad things your partner has ever done when you’re fighting.

EMOTIONS

Sad ⚜ Angry ⚜ Fearful ⚜ Resentful ⚜ Frustrated

Hopeless ⚜ Despairing ⚜ Jealous ⚜ Hostile ⚜ Vengeful

Guilty ⚜ Self-loathing ⚜ Restless ⚜ Uneasy ⚜ Humiliated

Hate-filled ⚜ Uncertain ⚜ Agitated ⚜ Rejected ⚜ Depressed

Unloved ⚜ Lonely ⚜ Misunderstood ⚜ Unappreciated

ACTIONS

Act out. ⚜ Attempt to reestablish contact at any cost.

Pick a fight. ⚜ Threaten to leave.

Wait for them to make the first reconciliation move.

Act hostile—roll eyes, look disdainful.

Try to make him/her feel jealous.

Act busy or unapproachable. ⚜ Act manipulatively.

Withdraw—stop talking to their partner or turn away from him/her physically.

Attachment classifications come from watching babies’ behavior.

Below is a short description of how anxious attachment style is defined in children. Some of their responses can also be detected in adults who share the same attachment style.

This baby becomes extremely distressed when mommy leaves the room.

When her mother returns, she reacts ambivalently—she is happy to see her but angry at the same time.

She takes longer to calm down, and even when she does, it is only temporary.

A few seconds later, she’ll angrily push mommy away, wriggle down, and burst into tears again.

Where Do Attachments Styles Come From?

Initially it was assumed that adult attachment styles were primarily a product of your upbringing.

Thus, it was hypothesized that your current attachment style is determined by the way in which you were cared for as a baby:

If your parents were sensitive, available, and responsive, you should have a secure attachment style; if they were inconsistently responsive, you should develop an anxious attachment style; and if they were distant, rigid, and unresponsive, you should develop an avoidant attachment style.

Today, however, we know that attachment styles in adulthood are influenced by a variety of factors, one of which is the way our parents cared for us, but other factors also come into play, including our genes and life experiences.

Source ⚜ More: On Attachment ⚜ References ⚜ Avoidant Attachment

[ozzgin]

It is the 19th century and you are returning home by ship. Before you embark, you happen to find a glowing shell abandoned by the docks. It seems that the sea creatures are searching for it. Or maybe it's something else they're interested in. content: gender neutral reader, violence, dubious consent, based on Return of the Obra Dinn

January 1802 What's the matter with me, I wonder? As if my luggage wasn't heavy enough already, I had to drag around a big shell of sorts. Found it by the docks while I waited for my ship to arrive. It has a strange glow to it, this shell. Can't quite place it.

January 1802 Cheeky bastards! The seamen are such a flirt. From the moment I stepped onto the main deck, a handful of them haven't dropped the whistles and stares. One of the topmen - I recall he's Scottish? - he's been pestering me about the ship. "I'll show ye around, can't find a better guide," he says. His mates laugh and clap to his petty attempts.

February 1802 Some of the sailors are dying from lung illness. I was on the orlop deck, playing cards with the three Russians, when the surgeon rushed to one of the cabins ahead. "If it was contagious, we'd all have it by now. Damned if I know what it is, or where it comes from," I could hear him groan. I wondered out loud if I might catch it myself, but then I noticed one of 'em rascals trying to cheat the cards. February 1802 I saw it again tonight. Ever since we launched from Falmouth, as soon as the sun sets, there's an eerie glimmer in the distance. It reminds me of this damned shell. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Oh, the sea is so terrifying in the dark. There's nothing but black stretching all around. My window is low; whenever the waves break against it, the wooden walls let out a groan that awakens me from the deepest slumber. Surgeon gave me pills to sleep. The creaks of the ship sound like a weeping maiden. February 1802 I think the cursed glow is getting closer. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I snuck onto the main deck. Scotsman found me wandering towards the bow, so he quietly hoisted me up by the waist. I thought he'd tell the Captain, but he sat me on the lower rigging, next to him, and we listened to the waves. I was afraid I'd fall off, but he kept a steady hand on me. I wish I could tell him about the light stalking our ship. Would he think I'm mad?

February 1802 Second Mate returned today on a small boat. We heard shouts coming from upstairs, so we rushed to see what was happening. Bosun had his pistol readied next to the Captain, and the sailors lifted the cargo from below. I thought I was dreaming at first. Some creatures, unholy beings, were caught in the net. They had the body of a human, but thick, fish tails covered in spikes. One of the Formosan passengers muttered something in Chinese, and some of the tail spikes suddenly pierced him dead. The old Miss next to me fainted on the spot, and the stewards urged us to leave. Right before I turned, I noticed one of the beasts pointing at me. It had a monstrous grin on its face. Oh, what a sight! The Scotsman guided me away, but I can't forget those eyes. Was it malice? Such an intense stare, burning straight into my soul. Now that I'm writing all this, a memory has come to mind: the creature had the same shell as mine, dangling from its neck.

February 1802 The pills no longer work. I can't rest anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I hear its wretched voice, calling me from the lazarette. That's where they locked those sea monsters. It sings nonsense, blasphemous lies. We're not fated soulmates. I've nothing to do with those devils. I should've never picked up the shell. I can only pray we reach land soon.

March 1802 God, oh God, what disaster has befallen us? I don't have much time. The gun deck is in shambles, more than half the crew dead. Underwater beasts have crawled their way up our ship; strange humans with spears, saddled on top of crabs larger than I've ever seen. The poor midshipman, oh, a young boy! He set himself on fire to stop the nightmarish fiend. Threw the lamp across the floor, and the flames swallowed both of them up. I scrambled up on the main deck, but there was no peace to be found; colossal tentacles sprawled around the ship, pulling the rigging apart, tearing humans like insects. The Captain's wife was struck by a falling pillar, I saw her crumble right before me. Scotsman is still alive, but his arm is missing a good chunk of it. I don't know where to find the surgeon.

March 1803 They left. They took the last boat, I only found out this morning. I tried to join them, but one of the sailors stopped me. "Witch," he shouted at me, "the beast down by the cargo hold screams your name. You must've called it here, brought this curse upon us." I don't know what he's talking about. Tonight I'm going to the lazarette, I can no longer bear the calling. This blasted fiend, oh, he's ruined me. I'll rot on this wreck. Mother, I don't think I'll ever reach the shore.

Your steps are hesitant as you tiptoe your way around the dried blood and debris, until you reach the locked chambers. The door is bent and folded away, as if hit by a great force. You do indeed notice the round prints against the rusty surface: giant suckers from a blasphemous being.

There he is, the wicked varmint who plagues your sleep! A pale creature is propped up, halfway out of the water, welcoming you with a toothy grin. The shell around his neck glows mockingly.

You throw your own shell at him. The small, ivory object rolls with a hollow thud.

"Is this what you wanted, damned monster?"

"Why, what am I to do with two?"

His voice is harsh and deep, rapping against your eardrums, scratching the inside of your head.

"I've been waiting for you. Can't leave this place without my beloved, can I?"

"There you go again with this nonsense. Villain! Drown me if you must, but spare me your deceit."

His smile falters, eyes narrowing in a frown.

"Is that how you find my love? Some petty lie told by a charlatan? Ungrateful brat, who do you think freed you from their shackles? Who do you suspect has summoned the leviathan, from the deepest trenches of the sea, to save your mortal soul?"

"The kraken left with the storm," you counter as the blood drains from your face. Could it be that you were to blame, after all?

"No, it left after the bargain."

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of his former cage. You observe his features in mild awe: the texture of his skin, the dark locks of hair reaching all the way to the tail, the spikes breaking out of the thick, hard scales.

"What bargain," you ask fearfully.

"The last ones are free to escape, if they leave you to me."

Why, your horrified expression is not quite something he expected. Surely one must feel relief once their freedom has been guaranteed. And not just any kind of freedom - you've been returned to your soulmate.

He's spent weeks chasing the currents, trailing the faint glow in the distance. He hasn't stopped once, tail pushing forward to the promise of a reunion.

Yet, you seem unsure. Perhaps his approach has been too hurried, too nonchalant. You need a little bit of convincing, and he happens to be a master of courting.

His thorax suddenly expands, and you can almost hear the twisting sound of his ribs cracking and breaking under the pressure. A sweet voice rolls out of his mouth, a song you've never heard before. Your heart pounds tremendously, threatening to burst out of your chest, and a foreign panic floods your senses.

Despite your desire to flee, your lids are heavy, eyes slowly closing. Through your lashes, you can discern the beast crawling towards you, the same defiant grin plastered on his face.

It's time for you to come home.

[aakeysmash]

maybes and sunscreen

college!sukuna masterlist

after almost a year of living together, you and college!sukuna are so accustomed to one another that you naturally slip up in the other’s conversations. maybe it's because you're both homebodies, or maybe it's because you've reached the silent agreement to keep the activities you do with yuuji hidden to preserve his innocent childhood (you learned that rumors run a long way inside your campus), or maybe it's because you started to ask sukuna less private questions, since he now seems to want to answer them even before you formulate them.

either way, the two of you always mention the other in conversations, and you don't even seem to notice, but your friends do.

"how about your house, man?" suguru asks sukuna from across the table, sipping his soda. they're sitting outside with satoru for lunch break, slouching on white plastic chairs, waiting for practice to start in less than ten minutes. days are getting longer the more summer break gets nearer, and the breeze flowing through the newly green leaves of the trees is a nice change from the humid stench of the locker rooms.

"dunno. the woman of the house is gonna bake cookies today," he shrugs, scrolling through his phone. he finds himself on a blurry zoomed in photo of a kitten covered in milk, and he smirks, hitting send after having selected your contact. you're going to love it.

"and?" geto asks, confused.

"and i don't know if she wants me to help her or not," sukuna continues, not bothering to look up from his screen, acting like he's not going to pester you until you let him help. and steal some of your cookie batter, too.

"it's the finale, bro, we've been talking about it since december. are you really not going to watch it for some cookies?" his raven haired friend exclaims, baffled. satoru only lowers his glasses on his nose, crossing his arms on his chest.

"oh, i'm going to watch it. got her hooked up on it too," the pink haired man says, a certain tilt to his voice matching the tilt of his head, as if he's saying are you crazy? i'm not missing it. "i don't know if she'd want you there, though."

geto rolls his eyes and satoru snickers, shaking his head. "we just want to watch the game on your tv. are you afraid she's going to feel uncomfortable with us there, my lord captain?" he mocks, sighing. lazily, sukuna glances his way.

"it's not her i'm worried about," he says, raising one of his eyebrows, maroon eyes squinting on a spot behind his friend's back.

"what does that even mean?" mutters geto, even more confused. it’s not like they’ve never seen you or have never been inside your house when you were there, so what’s different this time?

suddenly, sukuna grins like a madman, uncrossing his legs from on top of the table and standing up with his helmet under his arm.

“where are you goi-“ his dark haired friend starts, but satoru puts one of his hands on the other’s shoulder, effectively stopping him, whispering just wait.

sukuna takes a couple of steps, getting out of the gentle shadows of the trees above the table, still grinning.

“hi, baby. did you miss me so much you had to come to see me at practice?” he asks your nearing figure. you’re wearing a dress, the breeze soothingly flowing through your hair, and he takes a second to admire how graceful you look in the middle of the green garden. are the flowers you picked with yuuji the other day still fresh? maybe he should get more. maybe you’d like that. maybe you’d smile. maybe you'd thank him.

“i’m here because i knew you were never going to bring sunscreen with you, dickhead,” you huff, blowing your hair out of your vision, frowning. his grin only grows before he forces it away. typical.

“i don’t need that shit,” he rolls his eyes, turning on his heels and going towards the stadium. he knows you’re going to follow him. and you do.

“put it on! i’m not joking, sukuna,” you whine, trying to fall in step with him. “it’s going to be so good for your skin, come on.”

“it’s sticky and i don’t like feeling like a pussy,” he growls, going faster toward the benches inside the stadium and plopping down on them.

“you like pussy, though,” you shrug, forcing yourself between his parted legs, rummaging through your bag.

“i like you too, baby, but that doesn’t mean you’ll let me stick it in your pussy, does it,” he asks you smugly. you punch him on the shoulder, bewildered.

“you’re so disgusting,” you scoff, opening the little spf tube you brought in your purse just for him. "and don't tell me you like me when you never listen to me in the first place," you playfully add, caressing his face to smooth it out, and he lets you get his unruly hair off of his forehead. maybe he likes how you don't take the things he says to heart. maybe he just says them because he knows he's getting a snarky comment back.

“you didn’t say no, though,” he chuckles, closing his eyes and letting himself bask in your presence. your touch on his features is relaxing. he honestly thinks he could fall asleep if you were in any other setting.

“i’m letting you talk just because i’m in a male dominated field and even if i don’t agree i don’t want to die,” you deadpan. you smear the white cream on his nose, on top of the horizontal tattoo, and massage it into his skin. then you do the same thing with his other markings, making sure they’re protected enough to shimmer in the blazing hot sun.

“i wouldn’t let you die on me anyway,” he mutters. he gets both of his hands on your exposed thighs, keeping you closer, softly rubbing his thumbs in your muscles. "are you fucking finished? i hate this," he bites, frowning. you hum, lazily smiling down at him, rubbing his frown away with your fingertips.

"you're going to be the prettiest girl on the field," you coo. you can feel his mean glare from beneath his eyelids, and you almost shiver. "you're so going to thank me in a couple of years," you add, resting your palms on his cheeks and turning his head up. he opens his eyes slowly, staring into yours intently. his thumb catches on the fluttering hem of you dress while he draws little circles on your legs. he hears his coach screaming for his team to start running, but in this moment, he doesn't care that much. maybe the heat is getting to his head. maybe the soft smile you're looking at him with is making him a little bit weak in the knees.

"wanna make cookies today? we can watch the match together, perhaps ask the brat if he wants to join too," he says, rough voice kept low, almost as if this was a you and him kind of thing. maybe he already planned to ask you to do something with him when he was talking to his friends just a couple of minutes ago. maybe he lied, telling them you were the one who chose to do something, when it's not true. maybe the way satoru is patting suguru on the back with an "i told you so" look on his face isn't casual. maybe the one he was worried about all along was himself.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with your friends?" you ask him, tilting your head, positioning your thumbs on the fake tattoos on his cheekbones. almost as if you could cover their pupils and make him see less.

"wouldn't you prefer to watch it with me?" he genuinely responds, a somber look on his features. you think it's the first time he doesn't have a mocking grin on his lips. you ruffle the pink hair just above his left ear.

"maybe."

[shares-a-vest]

'Steve Harrington – Actual Babysitter?' (Drabble Prompt: Fluff)

Eddie walks into Family Video expecting to find Steve lolling on his swivel chair behind the counter and flipping through a magazine instead of doing... Well, whatever actually is written on that clipboard Robin is typically flapping about for fear of the wrath of Keith.

But Robin isn't in today and the store is quiet. Aka, it's the perfect opportunity for Eddie to come in with Steve's lunch, where they sit together and chat. No, he doesn't bring it every Wednesday like clockwork. And no, he isn't bringing along his own lunch so he can pretend it's a date or anything.

No – definitely nothing like that.

Even if there is some banter that some people (Robin) might describe as flirting.

It's just that he has to take what he can get lately when it comes to his kinda-sorta big, fat, dumb crush on Steve. Especially now that the guy is disappointingly incommunicado on their no-longer Sunday Night pizzas.

Steve insists he isn't dating anyone – and he sure is complaining about that fact enough. But, well...

Eddie does worry.

And he damn near panics at the sight of an empty Family Video. The store is eerily silent too as he steps inside and looks around.

"St – "

"– Oovie!"

Eddie jolts with a yelp as the babbling yell of what could only be the shrill tones of a whole-ass human child reverberates around him.

"Yes, buddy," comes Steve's voice from behind the counter, "Oh – well, maybe not Rambo."

Eddie tip-toes forward and places his hands on the counter before he peers over the edge, where he finds Steve surrounded by the parts of a dismantled VCR. In his lap is indeed a human child, a boy with chestnut brown hair who couldn't be more than two.

He doesn't know all that much about kids, really, but Eddie is pretty certain the little squirt shouldn't be waving around a videotape with such force Steve might get clomped in the head at any moment.

The boy yell-babbles again and Steve swerves away from a side swipe to his beautiful noggin.

"Okay, maybe we shouldn't play with this one," Steve says, gently placing his hand on the tape and giving it a light tug.

The boy squirms, and in doing so makes direct eye contact with Eddie. They both startle, and Eddie thinks if anyone was watching, they might say his eyes look as wide as the kid's staring up at him.

The boy points at Eddie and coos with a big, toothy grin.

"Stee!"

"Can you stop –" Steve grumbles, cutting himself off as the boy begins to tilt them sideways. He looks up and gasps, "Oh!"

Steve scrambles upright with the boy, who makes an (admittedly, adorable) wooshing sound as he is swooped up and bundled into a pair of burly arms that today appear to be bursting out of the confines of a navy blue polo shirt.

Eddie blushes, looking back at the boy in an attempt to regulate his heart rate.

"What's with the baby, Steve?" he says, trying to sound biting rather than flustered as Steve props the kid on his hip like it's second nature.

Steve takes the boy's hand and bounces him a little as he tries to encourage a wave, "You know Angie, my mom's best friend? This is her kid, George."

George finally waves and Steve grins, all proud in a way that makes Eddie's cheeks blush. Shit, he really wasn't prepared for something like this to happen today.

Or maybe like ever, really.

"George," he nods, offering a two-finger salute.

"Angie stopped by and realised she forgot something over at Melvad's," Steve explains, swaying now as George looks around the store, "So I'm taking care of little Georgie for a minute."

Georgie?

Eddie scrubs a hand over his face.

"I s-see," he splutters as he comes up for air.

"And we are fixing VCRs today, aren't we, Georgie?" Georgie tee-hees at that and oh goddamn it, now the little gremlin is trying to get his tiny, pudgy arms around Steve for a hug, "Then we're gonna pick a movie for Sunday Funday."

"Oovie!" Georgie cheers.

Wait.

"You're babysitting on Sundays?"

"Yeah," Steve shrugs before looking down at George with a fond smile, "I kinda like it, y'know?"