#maybe practicing will make me feel better

[player042]

HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation. 

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks." 

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole. 

Something timeless. 

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[theorphicangel]

maybe I’m thinking about the moment sukuna sits yuji down and finally tells him the truth about him and reader

( full fic before this is here but not needed to read this drabble!!)

sukuna finally sits yuji down, it’s only the two of them in the living room with sukuna’s twin brother, Jin, away at work.

yuji was busy playing with his fire truck in front of the couch until he hears his uncle to come sit next to him.

'hey yuj' come here for a sec'

the little one comes by, his toy fire truck that sukuna had gotten him for christmas still in hand. his eyes are wide and curious, giving his uncle his full attention. just at this sight, sukuna feels his stomach drop.

how the fuck was he supposed to break it to a six year old that you won't be around anymore? yuji practically worshipped you, from the first time that he introduced the two of you, yuji got obsessed. he followed you around and bombarded you with questions, asking every little thing about you. he gave you his shitty drawings and you kept them, putting them on your fridge. you'd make time to sit and play with him, diving into yuji's imaginative world a whole lot better than sukuna ever did.

you were patient and caring around him which sukuna appreciated a lot, it made yuji look up to you and treasure you greatly.

but now...well it's not the same. you haven't come by in weeks and yuji's began to question your disappearance.

'well...' sukuna hesitated, his tongue suddenly caught in his throat. what were the right words? how should he phrase this correctly so that his nephew doesn't end up in complete tears?

'yuji, you know-'

yuji cuts him off, stating your name.

sukuna lets out a dry cough, 'yes...about her' he can't bring himself to say your name. '...well we broke up. a couple weeks ago.'

sukuna lets his words digest. yuji looks down at his lap, fiddling with his truck, trying to comprehend. 'broke up?'

'yeah,' sukuna sighs, 'we're not seeing each other anymore.'

silence forms in the living room excluding the clock on the wall suddenly loud in its tick-tick-tick-tick.

'so...she won't come over anymore?'

'no, she won't'

'oh, okay.' there's clear sadness in the six year old's voice, immediately disappointed and now sukuna understands what his brother meant when he said that it would hurt yuji more than it would hurt him.

sukuna throws a hand at reassurance. 'it's okay bud because you still have me... and-and we'll do fun things together alright?'

yuji nods before speaking again, reflecting a little.

'but aren't you sad?'

sukuna wasn't prepared for that question. he struggles to come up with a quick answer, hesitating. 'yeah...i am.'

'i don't want you to be sad 'kuna' yuji mumbles, kicking his feet.

'it's okay yuji, i'm-'

sukuna's words are cut off by yuji coming in for a hug. his toy is discarded with yuji now focused on the task of wrapping his tiny arms around sukuna's large frame. sukuna shifts yuji onto his lap and returns the hug.

sukuna barely hugs his nephew, only in circumstances where he knows he won't see yuji for a long time.

'i hope you feel better soon.' yuji mumbles, his voice muffled. sukuna says nothing more as suddenly his throat is caught and words fail to escape from his lips. if it didn't hit him before then it sure does hit him now.

he hopes yuji doesn't notice his eyes getting blurry.

[stealingpotatoes]

EVERYONE GREAT NEWS REWRITE ANON RETURNED AND BLESSED US W MORE! i'll copy & paste the rest of the asks under the cut ⬇️ it's pretty long but worth the read (ive left my own notes in pink)

[continued from screenshot] We didn’t come up with a new name for Kylo Ren/Ben Solo but we did come up with a new arc and I put him in a traditional Alderaanian cape in the concept art sketches because he deserves to be an Organa (potes notes: YES!!!). I also gave him a lightning scar instead of a lightsaber scar because it made a bit more sense.

Our general plan was that yes, he’s still evil, at least a bit. His parents and uncle are awe-inspiring war heroes as well as being incredibly busy making sure the entire Galaxy doesn’t collapse in on itself in the power vacuum left behind by the Empire. Luke is part of a humanitarian aid/Geneva Convention type wing of the New Republic and Kylo finds himself both feeling like he lacks the means to prove himself and like they’re not doing enough to squash the threat of insurgence - which is still a clear threat and there have been multiple attempts on his mother’s life that have left the family scared. He absorbs certain parts of his mother and father’s political conduct; Leia’s willingness to fight for what’s right and Han’s general impulsiveness.

Anyway keep that in mind. He makes a stupid bid to try and prove himself by trying to fight off a whole imperial remnant cell alone “Just like the Jedi used to do.” and ends up going completely missing. Tl/dr: he’s super close to death and the big bad of the movie steps in to save him, teaching him what he always wanted to learn - how to fight and defend the people you love rather than focusing on connection to the force. Kylo doesn’t see the significance of that side of things, both because his parents don’t have an interest in it and because he’s grown up with tales of the daring exploits of Master Luke taking on ten people at once and chopping robots to bits. He just wants to make people proud of him. (OHHH THIS IS SO GOOD SO SO MUCH BETTER)

He’s pretty young when this happens too, and eventually his mind is twisted to believe that the only way to keep everyone safe is dictatorship. He’s grown up in a long, slow, difficult democracy with constant political unrest and everyone’s described how powerful and stable the Empire was his whole life - doesn’t matter that they were talking about how cool it was that they beat it. He still absorbed all that. (THIS IS SUCH A GOOD CHARACTER MOTIVATION and also great setup for themes/discussions on radicalisation and its like poetry it rhymes w anakin's fall omg)

Anyway, flash forward to the time of the films. He’s not a Sith, he can’t manage to push himself that far into the dark side. But he wants to be. He’s got a complex about it, he’s obsessed with getting stronger because then maybe they’ll be proud of me. He loses his first fight with Rey, not because she’s strong in the force at this point, but because he’s trained himself to the point of exhaustion after being reprimanded for a minor failure in interrogating Poe. He can barely move and he’s on the verge of fainting when they corner him in fact. He’s practically addicted to the pain of overtraining himself because that pain is what connects him to the dark side. (GOOD FIX!! 10/10 writing omg)

When Rey actually becomes a more formidable opponent in the force, he asks her “Who trained you?” and she tells him it was Han, not knowing the blow this is going to strike. This gets in his head. Badly. Han never understood the force when he was a kid, and was still not the best at being emotionally vulnerable (he was a great dad! But he was still the man who said “I know.” to “I love you.” (oop yep ok see ur point LOL)). Kylo isn’t to know that Han was FORCED to overcome this stuff through a brief stay in absolute hell. He asks what she can possibly have that he doesn’t, how is she better than him? And when he lashes out at Rey, telling her about the Han he knew, she doesn’t believe him and calls him a liar and a terrible son. This fight (which takes place on water) ends up with Rey almost drowning as Kylo throws a massive force tantrum, and Kylo having a breakdown under the sea in a force air bubble after the fight is over.

I think I’ll do a couple more asks because this one has been super long! I’m sorry if this was a chore to read I just thought I’d share if you liked the last one hah.

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

Rewrite anon again! I’m sorry if this is getting tedious!

We had a general plan for Kylo Ren’s redemption where Rey would be in danger of falling to the dark side by the end of the second film (IM LISTENING), and Kylo would already be on the path to questioning things after some hard hitting blows

Death of Luke (his master) (;-;)

Rey was trained by and kind of adopted by Han and has become the galaxy’s beacon of hope. Maybe it is all on him. And she loves Han so much that it’s hard for his new master to twist the facts on him anymore.

The third film would be a fucked up family reunion type bit where Kylo begs for forgiveness and him and Han set off to try and save Rey together. (YESSSSSSS!!! omg this is everything to me holy shit)

Thanks for the listen! I hope these aren’t too annoying. (IM LOVING IT)

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

Rewrite anon again (sorry). Wanted to mention Leia, Poe and Finn.

Leia is dealing with a massive insurgence threat which is why she sends Rey (galaxy’s last hope) away with Han (good at hiding. Also the only person she could both trust and spare).

Finn and Poe both comment a lot on how Rey’s galactic significance makes her blind to people’s lives. The New Order might keep her alive because she’s valuable, and Kylo might listen to her, but Finn and Poe are both canon fodder to both Kylo and the New Order. Hierarchy of lives and all that. (oooo yes that'd be such a fun like... counterpoint to the whole Skywalker Saga & fate-destiny-soap-opera)

Poe used to be a fighter pilot but is now more of a political leader and provides a necessary voice in the senate to backwater outer rim planets. He’s Leia’s political mentor (i assume you meant mentee/student?) with none of her royal manners and all of her intensity.

Finn isn’t exactly a clone, but he is grown in a lab. He’s more of a super-soldier than a clone, designed at the genetic level to be basically eugenics’ perfect man. (puts on my CATWS stan hat im listening) He becomes a field agent/espionage/sabotage type guy after defecting from the New Order because he doesn’t want to be involved in active combat any more, even though it’s hardwired into him and he has to fight it the whole way. Luke takes a liking to Finn before his death and teaches him about the importance of forging your own identity first before you start to think about where you’ve come from.

Hope you like the ideas lol we had a lot.

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

Final (?) ask from rewrite anon maybe. It’s about Han because we did kinda just make the Han movies I realise.

Han saves Rey from pirates after she finally cheats herself offworld for the first time and finds herself overwhelmed. After losing Kylo to the New Order he has long since realised his shortcomings in parenting and while he works up the courage to reach out to his son, he uses Rey kind of like a do-over child. (...healthy!)

Han ends up stuck with Rey after Luke’s death and with Leia pinned down on all sides, and as well as trying to give her super DIY teaching, he realises she can talk to Luke. Understandably this hits him like a truck while he’s grieving his friend, and him and Luke have a kind of Haymitch and Katniss communicating-without-communicating relationship. Han can’t see or hear Luke, but he knows when Luke’s trying to use timing to tell him something. (AGH I LOVE THISSSSSSSSSSS YES using a THG comparison makes me love it even more)

Han also survives until the end of the films. Harrison Ford would hate me for this he wants that guy to die so bad but no the smuggler from the fuck end of nowhere with no cosmic significance, no nothing, just the power of love and a gun makes it to the end. The survivor’s guilt is insane. (ohh LOVE THATTT!!! ESPECIALLY W UR EARLIER THING OF FINN N POE SEEING THEMSELVES AS CANON FODDER WITHOUT A GALACTIC DESTINY)

Hope you enjoyed reading these and that they weren’t too much of a bore. Maybe I’ll write some of this stuff down if people like it. (EVERYONE TELL ANON HOW MUCH YOU LIKE THIS RIGHT NOW)

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

Rewrite anon again (sorry)

Rey does of course lose her hand (fair, as is tradition) and she replaces it with a shitload of gadgets massively egged on by Han and Chewie. I think she’d have a special glove for it kind of like the equalist gloves in LOK. (SICK!)

Would also be great to have a ‘jedi’ protagonist who is even less aware of standard practice than Luke and will try definitely illegal moves like changing the length of the blade mid fight or kicking sand in your opponent’s eyes. (LMAO amazing omg)

---------------------------------------- (that was the last ask)

Me and my friend had some fun trying to rewrite the sequel trilogy a while ago and I think the best idea we had was Luke dies and Han and Rey get stranded on some nowhere planet where he has to haphazardly attempt to teach her years of jedi training in like a week entirely by reading out of Luke’s notes (somehow even worse than Luke’s extremely DIY training in the OT).

This isn’t at all based on the ‘Han has the force’ theory it’s literally just crabby atheist old man Han Solo and his dead best friend’s religious texts that are totally useless to him vs the world.

i LOVE that, disney needs to get you two rewriting the sequels STAT

(commission info // tip jar!)

[midnite-c6]

Ok now do a trilogy to Thanos x Namgyus gf but make it a threesome 💔

okay 💓 was thinking of doing that in part 2 but i wanted to edge. LMAO.

previous : part 1 ! part 2 ! <3 thanos (choi su-bong) x namgyusgf!reader pt. 3 warnings: 18+, cheating, degradation, pwp, rough sex

ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆ with the back and forth of videos (of you getting fucked by them) being sent on both their phones, it turned into a competition of the two. to see who could make you feel better, but that was getting boring, the best solution is to just share! obviously.

nsfw below!! -> 🫶🏻

"you lying, cheating, slut." nam-gyu slips his cock from your pussy, before ramming it back in again, starting another rhythmic pace of his dick sliding in and out of you. your body was practically floating, having su-bong hold you up from the ground, with his hand tightly holding onto your hair. from this view, he could see you look up at him with cheeks stained with your mascara, how your makeup is ruined, and how you were taking him so well inside your mouth, just like the first time. "so fucking wet." nam-gyu would groan out, pointing out how easy it was to just slip in and out of you for hours. "damn it. one dick isn't enough for you, huh?" your eyes move from thanos' looking up at your boyfriend's. "your slutty dumb brain needs two cocks to fill her up so it's happy, am i correct?" he'd particularly thrust harder during the last sentence, you barely even heard what he said because you were too busy thinking of what he's doing to your cunt right now.

"she's just searchin' for the best." the one inside your mouth replied. you'd only choke against him as he forces himself deeper inside your throat. "fuck off." but nam-gyu couldn't lie, you were clenching him like crazy. he'd only let out a moan from that, spitting on your clit. that was the only sensation your clit had gotten, nam-gyu was ignoring it the whole night because you don't deserve to be pleased like that! now both your pussy and chin is dripping wet from their filthy juices and saliva.

su-bong would pull out of your mouth, giving it some kind of mercy, you can finally breathe the air around you, that was still a difficult task considering now every time nam-gyu pushes inside you, the head of his cock hits your g-spot so perfectly, you'd wonder if he's trying to impress you, that thanos was only second best compared to him, maybe that's why he was your boyfriend in the first place... thanos looks down at your pretty, fucked out face and laughs, "you're such a freak for liking this!" wow. he was one to talk. he then places his dick on your face, rubbing his leaking pre-cum to ruin your face even more. "damn .. even prettier like this, señorita." he just loves seeing your face covered in his sticky cum.. </3

"ma' bro, let me fuck her." nam-gyu stops his thrusts, though not bothering to look at su-bong. "urgh. no." thanos tilts his head to the side. "how about we fuck her both, at the same time?" "what. you're into anal?" "psh, what am i not into? but. both of us. inside her pretty cunt. you can take it, right?" he asks as he tugs on your hair, you were still only getting to calm down from all the thrusting.. "fuck no, dude! i don't want my dick touching yours!" clearly, nam-gyu wasn't high enough for this. "fuuck, man, don't think 'bout that shit, she'll scream ten times more. high risk, high reward. i've seen it in a porno." nam-gyu scoffs, "high risk, high reward my ass. don't care shit 'bout what you watch." nam-gyu was opposed to it.

but seeing you to become an absolute shaking, screaming mess? hell yea. now you're laid down on the rought cement floors of the office room inside club pentagon, your legs being spread wide open, nam-gyu's arm hooked to your left thigh as su-bong's to the right. nam-gyu was first to enter inside you, then you'd already start yelling how it was too much when su-bong starts to push himself in aswell, "su-bong! s-stop! stop!" nam-gyu would harshly slap your face. "no moanin' his name, only mine. got it?" you nodded, fuck was he strict. "yes, sir.." you'd whine out lazily. you were being stretched like crazy, you swear they'd rip you open right about now. thanos finally bottoms out inside you, your body was already shaking, even when they're not even moving. but oh you wished that they stayed that way. now you're moaning crazily, for sure everyone inside the club, even with the loud music could hear how much you were being fucked. they were both fast as fuck, not giving you any time to breathe at all, it was like a literal race. nam-gyu's veiny, ringed hands were wrapped around your neck, just to let you know he's in control. thankfully, su-bong would pay attention to your clit, with his thumb pressing hardly against the sensitive bud, maybe you could cum tonight.

that's how you'll spend the night, and many more nights, but right now they're determined to fill your womb with their cum mixed together, like true bestfriends.

phew guys i forgot to add plot this is all sex. damnn . gonna start becoming inactive again and WAY more slow with reqs 💔 i love journalism hahah.

[silcoitus]

Erm hello. Idk if this has been requested yet by me or not but….

Silco x reader with a hand fetish maybe? Fingers in her mouth and all yk?

Because this is a request, I am posting the full text. In one month, it will be converted to an AO3 link, so read it here now while you still can!

Practiced Hands

Masterlist | AO3 link

Rating: Explicit—Minors DNI

Tags: Young Silco, f!reader; hand and finger kink, semi-public sex, fingers in mouth, vaginal fingering, dirty talk

Word count: 1.7k

Betas: @juniper-sunny

You've always noticed how dextrous Silco is with his hands; the way he twirls his pencil or fiddles with his butterfly knife. One night, when you have The Last Drop to yourselves, you see just how good his hands truly are.

He doesn't even realize he's doing it.

Of course he doesn't realize. 

The man just oozes effortless swagger, innate charisma. Every movement is less like a gesture and more like a dance; everything he does somehow elegant.

You busy your hands, wiping down a tumbler with a rag, standing opposite Silco as he pours over his notebook. His eyes are pinned to the page while his elbow rests on the countertop, his butterfly knife twiddling between his long, deft fingers. He flicks it open and spins it around, not even looking at what he's doing. The metallic clatter and the swish of the knife through the air a steady rhythm, almost musical.

“Silco.”

“Hmm?”

He doesn't look up. The knife continues to dance between his fingers.

“You better be careful with that.”

“With what?”

He finally looks up, his hand still moving. Finally, his ocean green eyes look to his knife and back to you. He chuckles lightly before clicking the knife closed with a decisive flourish.

“What? Scared?”

You roll your eyes.

“Not for me. For you.”

“Please,” he says, picking up his pencil. He twirls that just as dexterously. “I can handle it.”

You let out a sigh before setting down the tumbler, throwing the rag over your shoulder and crossing your arms. Hip popped, you watch him return to his work as he idly fiddles with the pencil. 

Those long fingers of his move so quickly, so effortlessly, never once dropping the writing instrument. Something about the movement sends heat to pool in your belly and desire to rise in your chest.

He's been driving you insane ever since you joined the operation. His arrogance and dryness, his hot-one-minute-cold-the-next nature. You can't get a read on him, and yet you can't look away. And if that wasn't enough, the slight pout of his lips is begging for someone to kiss it—or better yet, lick it.

You shake off the thought, turning your back to him. As you tidy up the bar, Silco continues to work silently. A rare comfortable silence between the two of you, save for the jukebox humming lightly in the corner. 

Silco breaks that silence with a soft call of your name.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing after this?”

“I dunno,” you say without turning around. “Just heading home, I guess.”

You hear Silco stand behind you, the stool squeaking as it spins. His footsteps get closer and closer as he makes his way around the bar to join you. You're reaching up to replace a bottle to the top shelf, standing on your toes, when you feel something at your back. Soon, Silco's hand is on yours, taking the bottle from you.

“Here,” he says, his breath in your hair. “Let me get that for you.”

You turn, your nose brushing against the tip of his with how closely he stands to you. Your eyes dart between his two ocean green ones as his fingers wrap around yours, tugging the bottle free before setting it down.

“There you go,” he hums.

“Thanks,” you whisper, heels returning to the floor, making Silco seem even taller.

His hand lingers on yours, his free one snaking around to your hip. Your heart races in your chest, firelights in your stomach.

“You know,” he coos. “The rest are gone for the night.” His fingers intertwine with yours, bringing your hand down to rest on the counter. “We have the bar to ourselves.”

Your breathing grows shallow, anticipation building behind your ribs.

“That so?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums, guiding your hand so it rests on your stomach, his thumb agonizingly close to the bottom curve of your breast. 

He untangles his fingers from yours, wordlessly instructing with a squeeze to the back of your hand to keep it still. You freeze, keeping your hand steady on your stomach as the pad of his middle finger glides up your shirt between your breasts. 

“I saw the way you looked at me,” he says, voice honey in your ears. “The way you looked at my hand earlier.”

That same hand is wrapping around your neck now, his touch featherlight. Those long fingers cover so much of you and you find yourself lifting your chin as he moves against you. His chest presses into you, and you're certain you can feel the hardened length of him against the swell of your ass. 

But all you can focus on are those fingers now cradling your chin, heading north.

“Did you enjoy it? The way my fingers move?”

His middle and forefinger rest on your left cheek, his thumb coming up to swipe across your bottom lip. 

“Would you like to know how they taste?”

Your hand at your stomach grips the fabric of your shirt tightly now, molten lava sent down to your core.

For a moment, you forget yourself, lost to his touch and voice. It takes you a second to remember he had asked you a question.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, nodding as much as his hand will allow.

His thumb swipes along your top lip now, your mouth hanging open to let out shallow, bated breaths.

“Go on, then,” he coos. “Indulge yourself.”

At that, you stick out your tongue, Silco's thumb coming down to press on it. As soon as he does, you close your mouth around it and suck, tasting the sweat on his skin. You hum around him, not even realizing that your eyes have fluttered closed.

“That's it.”

You drag your teeth across his thumb and he chuckles softly at that.

“How about some more?”

He pops his thumb out, replacing it with his middle and ring finger. You readily accept both, humming as you allow him to press them in as deep as they can go, fingers firm against your tongue.

“How long have you wanted these inside you?” He pulls his fingers back a fraction before sliding them back in. Your thighs press together as you picture that same movement between your legs. “Perhaps as long as I've wanted?”

You whimper around him, dampness growing in your underwear. And if his fingers in your mouth wasn't enough, his other hand is snaking down your hip, moving with purpose toward your navel.

“I should fuck you with my fingers right here in the bar,” he whispers into your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

You nod, whining a muffled whine.

Eyes half lidded, you feel drunk off him. More drunk than you could ever feel on any drink from the bar. His hand works quickly to undo your belt, fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants.

“How much do you want this?”

Your free hand flies to grab him by the thigh, fingers digging into his pants desperately. 

Right hand still working your mouth, his left dips beneath the waistband of your underwear, gliding down to your mound. And when the pads of his fingers glide through your folds, he finds them absolutely drenched.

You feel completely captive to him, his body encircling you and his fingers playing you like a puppet. Your walls clench around nothing as he massages a circle into your clit.

“Mmph!”

“That's it,” he hums, coating his fingers in your arousal. “Don’t worry. You're in good hands.”

At that, he presses two fingers into you. Your hips buck and your mouth falls open at the touch, eyes squeezed shut as pleasure shoots through you. Your toes clench and you scoot your feet apart, spreading yourself wide for him. His palm grinds against your clit as his fingers in your mouth press down on your tongue, middle and ring finger rolling against it like a steady wave.

You knew his hands were good.

You didn't know they were this good.

You already feel on the edge of ruin, hips shamelessly chasing the curl of his fingers inside you, grinding yourself against him. So blissed out, so overcome by want, you lift your hand from your stomach to grab your own breast, kneading it as you chase your high.

“I love a woman who knows what she wants,” he hums, his breathing almost ragged. He seems to be enjoying watching your undoing as much as you are enjoying experiencing it.

Your name is a prayer of praise on his lips, a quiet secret against skin. And as Silco's fingers continue to curl within you, his chest flush with your back and his palm grinding your clit, you wish this moment could last forever.

Silco shoves a third finger into your mouth, followed swiftly by a third at your core, stretching your walls.

A few more rolls of your hips, a few more curls of his fingers and then—

“Mmph!”

Your walls pulse around his fingers as you come undone, drool escaping out the sides of your lips as you pant and moan through your climax. It's impossible to tell which part of you is wetter with how slick both Silco's hands are. Chest heaving, clit throbbing, you feel as if every cell in your body is singing, crying out in unison one singular word.

Silco.

He eases you through your climax, both sets of fingers matching the rhythm of your spasming walls. And when finally your orgasm slows, he holds you in place, not moving a muscle.

Eyelids heavy, breath ragged, you feel exhausted all over. Silco's fingers remain inside you, a heavy, comforting presence within you. And when he pulls his hands from you, he does so only for a moment before bringing his left hand up to your mouth.

You can smell yourself on him and see the way his fingers glisten with your release. Wordlessly, you open your mouth and Silco pushes each drenched finger inside one by one.

You lazily suck on each of his fingers in turn, cleaning them as you try to piece yourself back together. 

Satisfied, he pulls his last digit free from your mouth and rests his damp fingers on your stomach possessively, both arms curled around you.

It's almost sweet, the way he embraces you.

But as your senses slowly return to you, you can feel the needy press of his crotch to your backside.

His chin tucked over your shoulder, his voice is a low rumble, a deep devilish purr at your ear. Your eyes flutter closed at the sound and warmth fills your body at his words.

“Why don't we continue this upstairs?”

A/N: Yes, a part 2 is already written 👀 Look forward to it.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @constantfragmentation @ariaud @jennrosefx @steponmesilco @leave-me-alone-silco @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @you-never-talk @noposwe @toripandashady @sirenofzaun @22carolina08 @roxnpens @commanderblood @medic-simp @cthezaunite @verdant-onyx @ursawastricked @artwithvivien @edlix @lackofhonor @spoczkot @witchypandamonium @lotus-99 @robin-the-enby @blissfulip @all-that-we-hope-to-be @zaunite-leo @silvia-elaine-hestia @nyx2021 @cccandynecklaces @another-batkid @toogaytofunctiondangit @rinkatai @mollymauksboi @pinklunarprincess | @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @witheringblooddemon @ladymer @redlovett

Join my taglist!

[stcrgazings]

so american 𓇼 ⋆.˚ op81

note… im sorry i know that this song is about all those london boys but my man oscar deserves some appreciation, and i think it turned out really fun, i wrote this in like a day so it’s not proofread, but i hope all my Oscar girlies enjoy. <3

warnings… mentions of alcohol if you like squint very very hard, and implications of smut.

summary… you’re all about those chick-fil-a and parties in the usa, but also all about a driver named oscar piastri who shows you that maybe australian food is better than all the taco bells in the world, you’re so very american but also so very in love.

word count… 1.5k (shortie but goodie)

—

You’re standing in the middle of a stage in some shady karaoke somewhere in Japan, he’s sitting right in front of you, smiling, completely mesmerized like he always seems to be when it comes to you.

“Driving on the right side road…”

—

“Please be careful, please.” He begs as he covers one eye, you’re obviously smiling completely amused by his freak out behavior as you pull out to the road.

You’re a new team ambassador, and have been for a few months now, the team completely thrilled to have one of the most famous singers in the world and the newest it girl of the generation wanting to spent so much time at their paddock and shooting content for them.

But of course you’ll do it if it means you get to be with Oscar.

“Will you calm down? I’ve driven before you know.” You joke, while he paces himself, you’re in some deserted roads near the McLaren headquarters, and he looks completely miserable.

“Yeah I know, but I can’t help but freak out when you’re driving on the wrong side of the road in my two hundred and forty thousand euros car.” He says, his hand grabbing the steering wheel slightly, pulling the car in to the right side of the road.

“Oh shoot, I forgot, it’s not my fault everything here is backwards Osc.” He laughs, rolling his eyes, while you bite your lip, completely ashamed and blushed too.

“Jesus, you’re so American.”

—

“Chick-fil-A is better than any Australian restaurant.” You say matter of factly, Oscar staring at you like you just murdered his entire family.

“No it’s not, take it bac-“

“-Is that Oscar’s sweater?” Lando interrupts him as he stares at you, more specifically at the sweater you’re wearing, one that he is certain he has seen Oscar wear at least a hundred times.

You blush as you nod. “Yeah, Osc let me borrow it back at the airport.” You explain, bitting your tongue as you beg to god that Lando believes the blatant lie you just told.

Oscar, just smiles innocently, clearly entertained by the situation, like you didn’t have to borrow the sweater in the first place because last night he gifted you hickey in your collar bone the size of Europe.

“Doesn’t she look pretty?” He asks, Lando still pretty much confused and lost of words, while you cover your blushed face with your hands.

“I’m not really understandi-“

—

“You have the coldest hands, it’s not even funny” you joke, while you feel his smirk right against your neck, making you giggle softly.

You’re in a cramp up supplies closet in the McLaren garage, his hands sneaking under your shirt, the coldness of them making you shiver and laugh as they unbutton your Bra.

“Well, you certainly seemed to love them last night, and this morning too.” He teased, removing your shirt completely as you pushed him slightly, pulling him back almost immediately to kiss him.

“I hate you” you managed to say in between kisses, your mind completely reduced to pout as your head is thrown back while he nips your jaw and then your neck and then-

"-Where the hell is Oscar?! Practice starts in ten minutes” the voice of one of the McLaren engineers interrupts him, your eyes shoot open, pushing him away almost immediately, because you’re not about to be caught half naked and making out by one of his engineers.

“Aaaand we’re done here” you declare. Oscar groans in frustration, his head placed in your naked chest. “Kill me now”

You pressed your lips together, knowing you won’t be able to continue your little escapade, your hands leaving soft pets all over his hair.

“You need to go babe.” You whisper, lips against his head, leaving one soft kiss there, as he hands you your shirt and bra from the concrete floor.

“I hate it here” he complains, as you put your clothes back on and he guards the door so that no one walks in to watch you naked.

“Kiss” you say, puckering your lips at him.

He smirks. “No” he jokes with a killer smile on his face but he’s already leaning in to kiss you.

—

“You were supposed to take that exit!” He exclaims, pointing at the exit that you just passed.

“You told me in 1.2 miles! That wasn’t 1.2 miles!” You exclaims, clearly stressed as you tries to switch lanes while Oscar covers his face with his hands, laughing. “I said kilometers baby, not miles”

“You know that I don’t do kilometers!” You protest clearly frustrated because you hate driving in highways, while he smiles at you sweetly, his feet on the dashboard and his head pressed against his hands behind his neck.

You turn around to see him, just for a second, he’s smiling brightly, like he always is, UK’s sun shining into his face, making him even more dreamy than he already is. Oscar is someone you sometimes feel like he isn’t even real, like you just made him up, an old poem you’d wish you’d wrote.

“It’s okay baby, I’ll just be late to the meeting.” He smiles, as you take the next exit, so he can drive and you can admire him a little longer.

—

“I might just be in love guys” you tell you’re friends, who look at you completely astonished and completely lost of words, at you and your heart eyes face.

“I mean he’s cute, but in love? Girl, is he that good? Your best friend asks, and you nod, an amusement expression setting in her face.

“I’ve never seen you like this” your other friend says, and it’s true, because no one’s ever make you feel like Oscar does.

“I mean, he’s just so charming, and pretty, and nice and a gentleman in all senses of the word, he laughs at all my jokes, buys me flowers when there’s no special occasion and even sends deliveries to my apartment with just the food I like. I mean who could I not be in love?” You try to explain yourself, as they all mock you.

“Oh yes Oscar! I’ll go to fucking Azerbaijan with you!” One of them says in a high pitched voice, the whole table laughing, making you throw your French Fries at them.

Because yes, you did ditch them for a race weekend in Baku with him, because how could you not.

“Well guys, when you guys have a handsome f1 pilot of a boyfriend you’ll understand why I’ll go anywhere he goes.” You tell them, completely defeated against their teasing. “I’m sorry if I’m being a little too much just a little too soon”

You apologize, but you’re 100% not sorry.

“About that, because I too want an f1 pilot of a boyfriend. Can you do me solid with the Charles Leclerc guy? Because man he can get it”

“Oh my god!”

—

“I’m telling you guys! They are totally sleeping together.” Lando tells Carlos and Charles, as the three of them share lunch, the Ferrari pair not believing a word of what he’s saying.

“Man, there’s no way Oscar scored the hottest chick in the planet” Carlos says, taking a bite of his pastrami sandwich, Lando completely frustrated at the fact that absolutely no one believes him and his theory that you and Oscar are sleeping together.

“Yeah dude, forget it, even I wanna sleep with her.” Charles adds, and Lando groans in frustration pulling his hair out and also offended for Oscar.

“You’re telling me you don’t think my boy has game?” He accused the pair, the both of them nodding like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“To pull that?” Charles points with his head one of your advertisement with McLaren. “Definitely not.”

—

He’s just won in Hungary, and it makes you feel something that you’ve never even felt before as he blows a kiss at you from the podium, your stomach fluttering like a 16-year-old kid.

You feel your heart grow with pride and love, smiling at him from the pit, champagne splashing you everywhere.

You made your relationship public just a few hours ago, a very hard launch as he posted a picture of you eating breakfast in his hotel room.

Lando wins five hundred bucks, Carlos, Charles, Lewis and two McLaren engineers lost a hundred each.

You’re ecstatic, even with the media and the gossips talking about a possible pr relationship you’re pretty much happier than ever.

And you don’t know if what you now have is forever, but something in your gut tells you it is, because he’s the most real thing you’ve ever found, not even fair or close to what your past relationships had been.

That night, you celebrated between drunken kisses and twisted sheets, and for now it’s more that enough.

But you do promise yourself that one your so american ass, will marry him.

[kyyupidz]

Hey hey :3! Soooo it’s my birthday in acouple days and I was wondering if I could request some x reader content with Floydie. I love him very dearly and would like to spend my birthday with him pls and thank u :}

hey siri: is my boyfriend love-bombing me? (g/n reader x floyd leech)

★ after dating floyd leech for a week, you come to the sickening realization (before your birthday no less!) that floyd leech may or may not be love-bombing you. dammit! well, no relationships stay perfect forever, right? ★ hurt/comfort, preestablished relationship ★ 2.75k words, reader is the ramshackle prefect, reader is called shrimpy, brief ace, deuce, grim, and azul mention, happy birthday user cryptidsandcreepycrawlings! <3

a week ago, you confessed your undying love to floyd leech of octavinelle. 

stupid? maybe. when you brought up the idea to your friends, they pretty much all told you to drop it. ace had called you as senseless as deuce, deuce was too surprised to respond to either of you, and grim had begun shaking even thinking about floyd.

unfortunately for them, all their warnings went through one ear and out the other. what’s the worst he could do? kill you? bring it! you’re not afraid! 

...okay, maybe you were a little scared. when you decided to completely disregard all warning flags and desperate mewls of mercy from grim, you were, admittedly, extremely nervous. you had locked yourself in the bathroom, and while grim clawed at the door trying to stop you, you texted floyd to meet you at the courtyard in the evening.

his response?

nah

…oh. well–

kidding dw ill be there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  wait for me okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

and that’s how you managed to drag floyd leech out to the courtyard to spill your heart out to him!

…too bad the confession itself was… well… a whole stumble of words. nobody said it was going to be easy confessing to a 191 centimeter eel! you couldn’t even look him in the eyes, you were so scared! at the very least, he had kept quiet the whole time you were word-vomiting, patiently waiting for you to finish.

and when you were done… you had glanced up at him and… and…

he was smiling like crazy. like, maniacal crazy. your heart had practically stopped in your chest when you looked at him, and not because he was pretty, but because you were scared he was going to pull out a scalpel and carve it into your flesh!

…okay, maybe it was because he was pretty. but that’s not the point!

surprisingly, instead of laughing in your face or torturing you or just walking off, he immediately made a grab for you and pulled you into his arms, long arms encircling your torso and crushing the ribs inside to dust. 

“aww, shrimpy! let me give you a big squeeze!” he had squealed excitedly,  “ahaha!~ ain’t you just the cutest? okay, let’s have fun and play together forever and ever!”

admittedly, his acceptance of your feelings was a little creepy and ominous. it didn’t feel like he reciprocated more so that he was chaining you to him and dooming you to be his eternal plaything. but those are just details! what’s important is that he said yes, and now you’re officially dating floyd leech!

and really, it’s been a dream. more than that. he’s everything you wanted. even though grim immediately scampers upstairs into the safety of your shared room when he visits and ace keeps gagging every time you talk about him, he’s perfect. 

when he enters a conversation with someone, he immediately goes on a tangent about how “shrimpy just confessed their feelings to me!” which is quickly followed up by “you better congratulate me or i’m gonna squeeze you.” 

the thought of him showing you off to other people really makes your heart warm! 

and when you initiated the first kiss, a chaste peck on the cheek, he immediately pounced on you and gave you thousands more in turn. your friends are sick of seeing him draped on you and making kissy faces at you all the time, but you wouldn’t have it any other way! 

better yet, he’s been walking you to class every morning and walking you home every afternoon, saying that he just wants to spend a little more time with his favorite shrimpy. he doesn’t always lead you to class like he promises, sometimes dragging you along to skip in his room, but where floyd goes, you follow!

you guys are perfect. at least, you really thought you guys were perfect. but last night, ace had crashed on your couch, and made you rethink your entire relationship.

“are you sure he likes you, prefect?” he had asked you. and you immediately rolled your eyes, prepared for another lecture about how you need to rethink your love life choices.

“stop trying to break us up already,” you replied, swatting his shoulder, “this is why you keep getting collared.”

yet instead of just sighing and letting it go, ace had fallen eerily silent.

“i don’t know, prefect,” he muttered, “what if he suddenly decides you’re not fun anymore and dumps you? you know how he is, with his crazy mood swings. what if you do something he doesn’t like and he decides then and there, ‘it’s over!’”

at the time, you had swatted at him again, scowling.

“floyd would never do that!” you said, “he isn’t like that!”

but now… you aren’t so sure.

you know, it’s awful of you to think this way about your boyfriend! especially when he’s been nothing but kind to you. but you just can’t help yourself, this irrational feeling taking root in your mind and infesting your every thought. 

what if he really is just dating you because he thought it’d be fun in the moment? what if he really does dump you the moment you become boring? oh sevens, is this what they call love-bombing? are you being love-bombed?

you feel a pit forming in your stomach. worst part? tomorrow’s your birthday. your birthday! and you’re spending it stressed and worked up over a hypothetical chance of your boyfriend not liking you. dammit, that’s not fair!

in hopes of at least having a relatively decent birthday, you do everything that you can to put yourself to sleep. warm milk, counting sheep, running around a few times… 

it doesn’t work. you keep tossing and turning and groaning with exasperation.

and when floyd shows up at your door the next morning, you find yourself not overwhelmed with love, but doubt. does he really like you? or is this just one big game to him, where he sees how much fun he can squeeze out of you before you’ve run out of entertainment value? 

is that what this is? a game?

“hey, shrimpy,” floyd says, snapping you out of your thoughts. he’s pouting, clearly displeased that you’re ignoring him. “i’ve been calling your name for like, the past five minutes. what’s got your brain so scrambled today?” 

you smile up at him, standing on your tip-toes to give him his morning kiss. for some reason, it feels wrong. hollow, devoid of any sort of affection. 

…you make sure to give him a few more to make up for it. it makes him giggle and kiss you back. 

“sorry,” you respond back as cheerfully as you can, “it’s nothing, really! guess i stayed up a little too late today.”

…sevens, what are you thinking, doubting your boyfriend? you’re just the worst, aren’t you? he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he’s done for you! someone who doesn’t love you wouldn’t walk you to class every single day. he’s done too much for you to chalk it up to simple love-bombing!

besides, who knows floyd better, ace, or you? obviously, you! you’re his partner! so why are you even bothering listening to ace? ace, of all people?!

you know what floyd’s like. you know that if he’s interested in something, he’ll chase after it for a while before it gets old and he ditches it. but those are things. objects. you do the same thing sometimes, abandoning a book if you start to get tired reading it. but people are a whole different matter. he wouldn’t do that to people, would he? would he ditch a person like that?

no. he wouldn’t! you know he wouldn’t.

…would he?

“hey,” you say suddenly, and he peers down at you curiously. 

“yeah?”

“if… hypothetically,” you start, trying to figure out how to articulate your thoughts, “jade wasn’t cool anymore, would you… abandon him? like, you weren’t having fun anymore with him.”

“if jade wasn’t cool anymore, huh…?” he hums in thought, shoving his hands into his pocket, “...nah. that’d never happen.”

you blink. okay, maybe his brother was a bad example. blood is thicker than water, or something. you can’t say you’re too surprised. 

“really?” you prompt, “not at all?”

“no way,” he shakes his head, “i mean, if he was, i’d totally drag him to the bottom of the ocean and let him get ganged up on by sharks. but i’d never get bored of jade!”

on second thought, maybe blood isn’t thicker than water. you shiver despite yourself. if that’s the treatment jade gets, you’re horrified to even think about what’s going to happen to you. maybe ace was right after all…? 

“why’d ya ask though, shrimpy?” he says, pinching your cheek, “someone got ya thinking that i’m gonna ditch you if you get boring?”

wow. bullseye. you forget how perceptive he can be sometimes. you laugh nervously, dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand.

“nothing like that,” you say, like a liar, “just thinking.”

yeah. yeah! you’re just overthinking it all. you mentally kick yourself for believing ace’s stupidity once again, and vow to make it up to floyd by being extra sweet and nice and cool. good thoughts, happy thoughts. you’re going to have a good day with your boyfriend and you’re going to celebrate living one more year with absolutely zero negative thoughts! 

(and yet, you still find that nagging “what-if” gnawing at the back of your mind.)

“floyd…” you manage to work up the courage to call out as you both sit in one of the mostro lounge booths. he’s supposed to be on the job, but he decided on a whim to skip and hang out with you. he says it’s more fun being with you than running around taking people’s orders. 

you didn’t know how you felt about that, considering your recent revelations, but you smiled back regardless. after all, doubts or no doubts, he is still your boyfriend. and you want to spend your birthday with the guy you really like! 

“what’s up, shrimpy?” he responds, chewing on your milkshake straw. despite serving it to you, he’s taken it for himself, the thief.

you steel your nerves, drawing in a breath. even though you told yourself earlier this morning that it was all nothing, you couldn’t stop thinking about ace’s words all day. so, you’re going to confront him for the second time today! but not in a roundabout way like before, no no no, you’re going to ask him head-on if he’s gonna leave you if you become a bore! as they say, communication is key, right?

“do you…” you pause, palms suddenly feeling very sweaty, “...like me?”

floyd blinks at you. once… twice…

“are you confessing to me again?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“huh?” you sputter out, “no, no, i’m not confessing to you again, i–”

“awh, shrimpy, i already told you i liked you a week ago! your brain’s been real scrambled today, huh? don’t worry, i know just the way to unscramble it!” 

and with that, he jumps up from his seat and runs off. you can only stare wide-eyed and slack-jawed as he pushes his way towards the mostro lounge kitchen and disappears behind the double doors. 

you thought he’d come back in a few minutes or so, but no. he took until closing. had he done this any day but today, you would’ve let it slide. even before you two were dating, you used to wait for him all the time in this specific booth, waiting for him to finish up. but now…

you just feel bad. like you got stood-up or something. you couldn’t even finish your milkshake, you were so down in the dumps. not that you could’ve anyway, floyd chewed your straw to bits. the downsides of having a boyfriend with sharp teeth, you suppose.

but just when you were about to give up, go home, and text him later that you weren’t feeling well, floyd bursts out from the kitchen and places an absolutely huge ice cream sundae on the table. 

“ta-da!” he beams, sliding into the seat across from you with a grin, “whaddaya think? pretty cool, right?”

you gape at the monstrosity that floyd just laid before you. you’re not even sure what flavor the ice cream is. you think he took a scoop from every single tub the mostro lounge had and threw them all in, though it’s hard to tell by the way he’s drowned the whole thing in sauces and whipped cream. you look closer and spot a brownie and cookie layer completely drowned in the mess of sugar. are those… gummy worms too?

“this is…” you start, then immediately clamp your mouth shut. you’re not sure what he’d do if you told him this is simply too much. 

floyd’s smile only grows. “totally awesome, i know. i’m a cooking prodigy! azul chewed my ear out about it, saying that i’m wasting resources ‘n’ that i should be at the front helping the actual customers, but he let it go eventually. he’s gonna force me on dish-washing duty later, but it’s okay because i did it for shrimpy!”

your heart thumps loudly in your chest, the negative thoughts you were harboring seeming to fade away at his declaration. you can’t help but smile back at him, the way he so eagerly awaits your praise melting your doubts away.

“it is awesome,” you say softly, “you’re awesome. thank you so much.”

floyd seems to practically radiate pride, that maniacal smile you’re all too familiar with on full display. you gaze affectionately at the sharp row of teeth he sports. that’s your man right there!

“look, look,” he presses, “let me show you the best part.”

he turns the sundae around, and lodged haphazardly in between the glass and the sundae are two sugar cookies. 

they look like… you. and floyd. 

the one resembling floyd is messily frosted. there was an obvious attempt to create his signature smile, but it seems like the frosting tip was just a bit too big. and the frosting tip for his hair seems like it was too small, so every strand just looks like well-cooked blue spaghetti. 

but yours is almost identical to you. obviously, he’s taken a few artistic liberties, but compared to floyd’s? yours looks like a professional baker did it. it appears to you that between the time it took for him to make his cookie and the time it took to make yours, he got a rather significant boost in cookie decorating skills. 

“aren’t they cute?” he says happily, “i worked really hard on them, y’know. never knew how hard it was to frost cookies!” 

you gingerly pick your cookie up. the more you look at it, the more you feel your face warm. it’s like you’re falling in love all over again. 

it really does look like you. you wonder how long he had to stare at a picture of you to get it down so well. or maybe he’s got your face memorized so well that he can recall every detail? either way, you feel a flutter in your stomach.

“hey-hey, shrimpy,” floyd calls, “show me your cookie real quick?”

you blink. slowly, you turn the cookie to him, and he smushes the face of his own cookie onto the face of yours. the frosting smears against your fingertips as you gasp at the sudden destruction floyd has caused. 

“look, they’re kissing!” he giggles childishly, unfazed by the hours of his hard work he just disregarded. you stare shocked at the cookie sandwich that floyd has just created. 

he smiles at you, with his sharp teeth and stained uniform, and boops your nose with his finger. “happy birthday shrimpy.”

and then you realize, sevens, how could floyd ever leave you?

“...you know what,” you say breathlessly, “you know what, i think the real floyd should get some love, too.”

you reach over the table to grab him by his collar and pull him in for a kiss. it’s just as calamitous as the cookie kiss, just lips smashing against lips, but you both pull away laughing and red-faced and wholly in love. 

“so?” he prompts, propping himself up on one hand to stare at you, “your brain all fixed up now?”

you smile at him. really smile at him. “yeah. all fixed. thank you, floyd.”

…wait, so, you have to eat this mess of a sundae he created now, right?

note: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! not only is this my first request, this is also a BIRTHDAY REQUEST??? oh boy. I REALLY REALLY REALLY HOPE this fic gives you nothing but good blessings and much fortune because by the time i was done writing i realized maybe writing a hurt/comfort fic wasn't the way to go for a birthday present. NONETHELESS i do hope the comfort balanced out the hurt and that the hurt didn't hurt too bad!!! may you receive nothing but the best and may you live to see the next birthday with mr floyd leech himself! <3 <3 <3 <3

[fear-is-truth]

WE FOUND LOVE IN A HOPELESS PLACE

pairing — NAM-GYU x f!reader. warnings — toxic love. angst. mention of drūgs & sex. english isnt my first language / word count 1420

a/n : here’s a playlist to compensate

NAM-GYU was never the man you should’ve fallen for, and maybe that’s why you did. there’s no ceasefire. loving him is a siege, a never-ending war, and you’re always the one waving the white flag, bleeding surrender into his hands. but he lures you back into the trenches with the smallest moments of disarmed humanity, gestures that feel colossal only because they’re so rare—

his head resting in your lap, your fingers threading through his hair. the slight crack in his voice, almost boyish, when he asks you to hum something, anything to drown the chaos in his head.

his hand in yours when the drugs have wrung you both dry, your bodies trembling, drenched in sweat. and for once, he’s not trying to control you. he’s just holding onto you like a lifeline.

nam-gyu is the match you struck yourself, knowing full well it would burn you to the wick. destruction wrapped in allure, and you let him destroy you because he makes you feel. drunken nights blur into each other, smudged by pastel-colored pills and lines of white powder, leaving a haze too thick to see through.

sometimes, it’s better to feel pain than to feel nothing at all, and with him, the pain comes sharp and vivid, carving itself into the parts of you that numbness could never reach.

he’s sitting fully clothed in the bathtub, the curve of his spine pressed into the porcelain. his knees are drawn up to his chest, one arm slung lazily over the edge, and an unlit cigarette dangles limply from his lips. the dim bulb above sputters weakly, bathing the tiles in a lurid, piss-yellow glow. he looks at you like he always does—bored—but the disinterested slack of his mouth is betrayed by the dimple carving into his cheek. he’s waiting. for you.

eyes narrow into slits, sharp and dark, like he’s measuring the space between you and him. you hover in the doorway, lighter in hand. the cigarette bobs as he smirks.

“you just gonna stand there?”

his voice is edged with disdain, like he’s daring you to leave. you don’t leave. you kneel by the tub, the coolness of the tiles biting into your knees. close enough now to see the faint sheen of sweat on his collarbone, bruises just below it. you don’t ask what happened.

the lighter flicks once, twice, before it catches, and you lean in, holding the flame to the tip of the cigarette. his lips curl around it as he inhales, eyes locked on yours. he exhales to the side, smoke curling against the tiled wall. you pluck the cigarette from his mouth and take a drag, the bitterness scraping your throat like broken glass.

“don’t get cocky.”

his chuckle is soft, lilting with faux innocence. “cocky? me?” he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, your faces inches apart.

“that’s funny coming from the girl who keeps crawling back.”

you blow smoke directly into his mouth, watching his pupils blow wide as he inhales.

“don’t flatter yourself.” the words fall flat on your tongue, a lie you both recognise. the nicotine burns as it settles in your chest, addictive in the way his presence is—killing you slowly, but it’s all you want.

he’s all you want.

nam-gyu grabs your wrist, pulling you forward until you’re practically in the tub, on top of him. his lips crash into yours, tasting of ash and anger. his teeth scrape your bottom lip, and you dig your nails into his shoulders, both of you are trying to take something from the other and neither of you is willing to give.

when you finally pull away, gasping, nam-gyu stares at you like he’s searching for something—an answer, a reason, anything. his hand lingers at the nape of your neck, fingers curling into your hair.

“you’re too good for this.”

you laugh, sharp and bitter.

“don’t lie to me.”

he doesn’t. not about this.

you sit there in the jaundiced haze, staring at each other. nothing’s fixed, nothing’s said, but it doesn’t matter.

this is what you are.

sometimes, though, he makes you forget how fucked up the rest of it is. like when he drags you into the fluorescent glow of a run-down arcade after wandering the city, the drugs still humming in your veins. your feet ache, your throat is dry, and you want to crash somewhere, but he pulls you forward, muttering something about “just one thing.”

he stops in front of a claw machine filled with stuffed animals, shoving coins into the slot. you lean against the side, arms crossed, watching him maneuver the joystick with a concentration you haven’t seen since his last poker game.

“what are you doing?”

“winning,” he says simply, his tongue poking out slightly as the claw descends. you’re about to chide him for wasting money, but the claw jerks, grabs a small bear by the arm, wobbles as it retracts, and finally drops it into the chute. he grins, a boyish smirk that doesn’t match the sharpness of his features, and hands the bear to you.

“for you.”

it’s stupid how your chest tightens.

“dumbass…” you mutter, but you take the stuffed animal from him anyway.

later, you’ll lie in his bed, the bear clutched to your chest, your body still buzzing from the euphoric high of sex. the sheets are tangled around you both, skin slick with sweat, the lingering warmth of his touch on your back. the pleasant ache between your legs is still fresh, and you feel a wonderful cocktail of everything—desire, confusion, a hint of something almost resembling affection, even though you know it’s all so fucked up. he’s asleep, am arm draped lazily across your waist, and you tell yourself that everything is good.

or there’s the night he buys you tteokkochi from a street vendor, even though you’re both broke and he doesn’t spend money on anything but vices. it’s late, and the air is cool. you sit on the curb, legs stretched out in front of you as you eat, the spicy sauce staining your lips.

“you didn’t have to do this,”

“shut up and eat,” he replies, spearing a piece of rice cake and shoving it into your mouth.

because for all his faults, nam-gyu has a way of making you feel like the only person in his world. and in those fleeting moments, you almost believe you could save each other.

almost.

being in love with nam-gyu is living on a fault line, constantly bracing for the ground to split open beneath your feet and swallow you whole. it’s the dizzying heights of his affection—the way his gaze softens when he’s not too far gone to let you in. and it’s the freefall—the screaming matches, the slammed doors, the nights he disappears without a word, and the sick, creeping dread that maybe this time, he won’t come back.

but he always does. not with apologies, never with promises to be better. he shows up with that lopsided grin, the one that wraps around your resolve and strangles it. you’ll forgive me, because you love me.

and he’s right. you do.

and you hate him for being right.

he never breaks you in one clean snap. it’s slower, crueler—he feeds on your forgiveness, on how easily you bend under his will. but he bleeds too. the rare times he allows you to touch the soft underbelly of his pain, the nights he holds you so tightly you almost can’t breath.

you hate him for that too, for needing you so much it drowns out the parts of you that should have walked away.

nam-gyu is a liar, a manipulator, a hurricane you walked into with your eyes wide open. but for all the wreckage he’s caused, he’s never lied about one thing: he loves you. and you love him, too—not despite the ruin, but because of it. because he’s yours, and you are his, and love is the only thing strong enough to make the devastation feel worthwhile.

he kisses you, but you don’t pull away.

you could pull away, though. you should. but you don’t. because for all the ways he’s ruined you, you’ve ruined him too.

a love that tastes like blood, like the copper tang of wounds you keep reopening just to feel him. it hurts, every second of it, but it’s the kind of hurt you’d crawl through glass for, just to hear him say your name.

𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬, 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥. — WE FOUND LOVE by RIHANNA ft. CALVIN HARRIS

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[jsraven7]

This is an odd post, but seeing all the new Hellenic Polytheists terrified of making the Gods angry breaks my heart.

You have to try extremely hard to make the Gods mad. They will not be mad at you for tiny things. You practically have to be intentionally trying to make them mad, or do something hubristic. I wanted to share a story of mine personally to aid others in this anxiety. I know this may be an odd way of helping others feel better, but I really do hope it helps.

I started working with and worshipping Lady Hekate over a year ago. I was in a horrendous headspace, and called out to Her for more selfish reasons. I built my relationship with Her on needing help to do baneful workings against the abuser I just escaped from. Which, really, is a thing a lot of people do. But, because I was in this horrendous headspace, I didn’t go about it the right way. I didn’t do a good job at building Kharis with Her, or giving Her any offerings for Her help. I was quite disrespectful to Her, really. I felt my relationship with Her turn towards something more strained. I felt more negative when thinking of Her, and a lot of the time I felt shut out from Her. Any offerings I gave Her felt disconnected, like a call that didn’t go through. She was not quite happy with me, and I couldn’t blame Her.

The thing is, though, is that She was never angry with me. I could feel our relationship break slightly, and I could feel a wall between us. My offerings didn’t always feel like they were accepted, and our relationship just felt discordant. But every time I sat down with Her with my divination tools and asked if She was mad at me, the answer was always a very strict, ‘no’. Despite how tumultuous our relationship felt, She was never angry. Disappointed maybe, yes, but not angry. I worked closely with Her on repairing the little cracks in our relationship as I begun to heal a bit more from what I asked Her to help me with, and as I got more stable in myself. I dedicated time to devotional acts for Her, speaking with Her, and giving Her offerings with the intention of reparations. Very quickly, our relationship healed. I wouldn’t say it’s perfect yet, but we have a very wonderful relationship now. I clean bones in Her honor, and I love to feel Her presence as I do so.

All in all, the point of this is, our relationships with our Gods are just that—relationships. The Gods will not be mad at you for every small thing, or even for bigger things, like the mistakes I made. Your relationship may feel odd with Them from time to time, but that’s completely alright. Like every relationship, you have to figure out your rhythm, and there’s no sense in a God being mad for you figuring out how this all works. I was very experienced with this all when I made those mistakes, and yet She was never mad. Why would They be upset when you’re just figuring it all out?

Rest easy, all of you. This is a religion, this is life, this is love. Religion is to be enjoyed, to let your happiest self go. The Gods rejoice in Themselves, and rejoice in you. Have fun, be respectful, and trust in yourselves and Them. Love to all of you—be kind to yourselves.

[imujings]

Talk Talk by Charli xcx gives me so much vernon vibes!! every time i listen to it i just make up a little scenario with him in it! CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS!!💗

but we've been keepin' this a secret and you're surrounded by friends and i'm just wonderin' what they know

wc <1k. warnings some cursing, party scene, suggestive (mentions of mutual masturbation, allusions to sex lol), petnames (babe), situationship. jay’s musings thank u ml :,) here is buzz cut vernon for u!!

The bass of the music makes your ears ring, vibrations reverberating through your nerves down to the bone. It’s blinding here in the club, the neon lights hurting your eyes and forcing you to squint through the heavy smoke filled air. Your drink sloshes around in your cup unsettlingly.

Your outfit feels a little bit too tight, like you can’t get enough air, and you try to steady your breath. There was no more time for feeling self-conscious. You were on a mission tonight—no matter how much you usually hated this kind of scene, you were determined to see it through.

Or rather, see him through.

You hear him before you spot him. It’s embarrassing, really, how your body reacts to the stimuli that is his presence. The music gets a little duller, the lights a little dimmer, and your senses become heightened. Laughter that could belong to no one other than Chwe Hansol reaches your ears, clear and resolute.

He’s standing around people you can only assume are his friends—there’s so many of them it only makes the situation even more overwhelming. One in particular is leaning against Hansol, his arms wrapped around the man’s bicep, and something in your heart stirs.

Flashes of green alight your vision, and only by blinking do you realize it’s caused by the club lights rather than the jealousy curling in on itself inside of you.

Hansol and you were, for lack of a better term, talking.

You two had met on a dating app a little while ago, swapping movie recommendations and indulging in jokes about how the world has gone to shit. Conversation between you two was easy, light; he never made anything feel forced and it left you reeling every time a notification popped up on your lock screen.

However, what did leave you frustrated was his poor attempts at hiding that he was making any excuse possible not to see you.

You asked to grab some coffee downtown at a new place that opened up? He was coincidentally quitting coffee for awhile. You wanted to go see the screening of a newly released movie? He already made plans to see it with some of his other friends. Every offer to meet up in person was shot down, not unkindly, by the man.

And quite frankly, you were tired of it.

You wished—no, craved—that he would just talk to you about what he was so seemingly afraid of. It was evident that he harbored enough care for you to send you updates about his life, from a reel he found funny to what retirement plan he wants to follow.

That, and he would FaceTime you during after hours, spent from long days at his work but still awake enough to hear you whine about goodness knows what. There were even nights that ended in you gasping for breath, your fingers sticky from your release, Hansol’s own groans echoing softly through the speakers of your phone.

“I wish I was there with you,” you murmured once after such an intimate moment. “To touch you. Make you feel as good as you make me feel.”

He was silent on the end of the line for a breath, before his voice, still shaky and low intoned, came through the call. “One day. Promise, yeah?”

That was maybe two weeks before tonight. Hansol, of course, then rejected your attempt to ask him out to dinner, saying he was out of the state at the time visiting family.

Convenient, wasn’t it?

When you heard that he was attending a party this weekend, one hosted by someone you recognized as a mutual friend, you practically begged your bestfriend to let you tag along.

So, here you were, looking dumbfounded at the man only a few feet in front of you.

His buzz cut looked better on him than it did in the pictures. You knew he had gotten one, him excitedly sending you selfies of before and after—it was the most wound up you’d seen him since the initial conversation you two had about Star Wars. But you didn’t think that his new hairstyle, paired with a silver chain and thin white tank, would instantly make heat churn in your lower stomach.

Focus, you remind yourself.

Taking a deep breath to recollect yourself, you walk with purpose towards him. His friends take notice of you first, their eyes widening, and the one that’s wrapped around Hansol’s arm backs away slightly.

His eyes meet yours, and time stands still.

“Hello,” you drawl, leaning into his personal space as you blink up at him with what you hope is a charming smile. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Hansol’s mouth is parted, eyebrows raised, his eyes drinking in your club outfit and the way the light reflects in your dilated pupils. He swallows. Hard.

“Hey,” he says, arm reaching around your waist and giving your hip a squeeze. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

Your lips curl into a smirk and you slowly trace a fingernail along his knuckles. “Yeah. Heard of it and wanted to see what the commotion was all about.”

“Not much commotion until now.” Hansol’s hand doesn’t stop his ministrations, making you hum as your body moves on its own to press against his.

Your eyes catch the way his jaw tightens imperceptibly. A giggle slips past you.

“I’ve been wanting to finally meet you in person,” you pinch his bicep. “You keep escaping my traps.”

Hansol’s eyes, wild and wide, flicker around to see if anyone is watching you two. When his gaze meets yours again, it’s dark.

“Well, I’m here now. Wanna get out of here?”

You toss your head back into the air and laugh, a sound that makes Hansol tighten his grip on you and grin at.

“To do what? Talk about why you’re avoiding me?” you tease.

He leans in close, breath tickling your ear.

“Nah, babe. We’ll talk later. Gotta show you just how lucky I am first.”

want to queue a song?

[medullamindset]

STEB HEADCANONS :>

Uhhhm YEAH a few headcanons ive collected since act 3 came out in november 😸 enjoy Stebnation, or dont idk

This is very short and boring but its easier to write him in an actual scenario so TRUST IN ME MY UPCOMING STUFF WILL BE BETTER 😿

Content warnings: Established relationship w Reader, miiiild mention of knifeplay but its easily looked past. My opinion on his race.

NSFW marked this pink!

• He cannot be any older than 30. I'd bet hes like 23-27. Idk how old u have to be to be a field medic/enforcer??

• Hes around 6'4.. Tall guy. ♥︎‿♥︎

• His frill thingies seem to lie flat to his face with "down" emotions, such as shame/guilt and sadness. But they point straight out with more intense emotions, like suspense, anger, exitement, worry. I love the way they flutter sometimes, as a subtle reaction. Like when they saw the Zaunites walking over the bridge to aid in the war, his frills were like "oh, wow.."

But also how they shot straight out with suspense when Ambessa wanted Caitlyn to b commander and everyone was banging their chests and stuff.

• I'd like to imagine his frills flutter a few times in a row when he orgasms, like the shockwaves of pleasure, but also post-orgasm. Maybe they go hand in hand with his nervous system kinda?

• His tip is the same color as his eyelids. His nails seem to be beige too.

• He CAN talk he just chooses not to if he feels he doesnt need to. Short sentences if he has to, small nods and shakes of his head, LOOKS. his face is VERY expressive, but thats more of a fact than a hc. body language is a key communication of his.

• Hes def always been the quiet type, ever since he was six he hasn't been big on speaking.

But sometimes you cheat the system.. Having your back turned to him when you ask him a question just so you can hear his voice, even just to get a little "mhm" from him <3

• On the rare occasion that he does speak his voice is kinda hoarse and gravelly from lack of use UGHHHH *squirts everywhere*

• hes a bit of a "bland" person, hes not boring.. Just a very simple man. He reads practically anything, carries your bags when you're out shopping, he literally just goes wherever you wanna go. He hangs over your shoulders when you do ur makeup, cooks breakfast most mornings, cleans when he feels its needed cuz he doesn't like messes, he'll have music on in the background tho and it's usually one of your vinyls that's playing, makes him feel closer to you <3

Simple things man. deeply emotional and caring too. Hes so kind and eager to help ugh MY SHAYLAA.

• hes a bit socially awkward, he doesnt have social anxiety, hes just kinda stiff and quiet around people.

• what the fuck does he do all day, really?

• I feel like he'd like dancing with his lover but he thinks hes bad at it so hes a bit awkward <333 put his hands around ur waist for him tho and he'd turn into even more speechless mush, everytime.

• Has a gummy smile thats really evident when he laughs so he tries not too, might let a grin slip in private tho c: and close mouthed chuckling/snickers.

• Loves being carressed, hold his face in your hands and trace his cheekbones with ur thumbs? FOLDS. Running your fingers up and down the fins at the back of his head when his face is in your neck? PUTTY.

• Speaking of fins, they continue down to to his lower back, shorter at the bottom but longest between his shoulderblades. He also has darker spots(scales?) Like the other fishfolk in Arcane on his outer arms and thighs. See this post of mine for a ref :)

• he drinks alot of water, like ALOT. his throat get dry easily cuz hes.. Yk, fish.. Atleast half-fish. He'll remind his partner to do the same, no matter your race cuz its good for u, he'll nudge u with a glass in hand and a small tug at his lips, or simply just leave it beside u as a silent reminder.

• Loves holding hands. like, he just LOVES it. He'll act nonchalant abt it but on the inside his heart is just blossoming 💗

Like imagine you're at a café or a bar or a diner WHATEVER and ur just sitting infront of him yapping abt ur day or smth ur planning while holding his hand over the table, and he'll just be buzzing with love, rubbing your soft skin with his thumb, feeling lucky his blush doesnt show (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)

• ABSOLUTELY ADORES kisses. He just finds them so sweet and intimate (cuz they are. But i mean like, he doesn't ever NOT think about it after kissing you, hes always locked on target y'know, he only sees you. He only feels you when kissing your lips, he'll kiss u like its the end of the world.. even if hes just getting up to go to the bathroom or something.)

• he just loves you so much, please kiss him, everywhere. Theres not a single spot of him you could kiss that wouldn't make him shiver (the good way).

• Steb is not much for hardcore kinks in bed. He doesnt "fuck", he makes love. In his eyes there truly isnt any purer form of intimacy than sharing something like that, giving away a piece of yourself to this person, your souls spiritually intertwined and yadiyadayada (it's true tho)

• He will go harder if you ask him to, hes not afraid to make you scream with pleasure. Also, bite him and hes a goner. Omg if hes like treating u so nicely in the sack you gotta bite down on something to contain yourself, pls let it be his shoulder, please leave pretty imprints of you canines all over his neck and chest. And hickeys too HNNGHH

Makes him groan so deliciously. Hips snapping into yours just a liiiittle more harshly than intended.

He'll bite you back carnally if you'll let him, Steb gets so lost in it sometimes..

• Hes open to experimentation tho, like if theres something you reallyreallyreally wanna try he'll be like 'euuughgghggggrhggh okay yk what fine', as long as he doesn't have to hurt you, not too much anyway. The idea of inflicting pain-pain on the person he loves makes him queasy.

• But if hes really fucking horny at some point, watching you take the front seat and play around w his gills, scratch at his chest, put a hand around his neck or.. Idk drag a knife gently across his skin while topping he'll literally whine, digging his dull nails into your sides, holding on for dear life.

• He loves being called petnames. Serious and silly ones. His favorites have gotta be Love, Darling, Baby and pretty boy.. All the sappy stuff. One time you called him 'Gorgeous' and his frills shot straight out for a solid three seconds.. If he already didn't speak, he'd be speechless then. CUZ HES A GORGEOUS MAN.

Or that one time you called him 'fishface' and he just slumped in defeat when he heard you giggle, knowing that one was gonna stick around.

You'll enter the kitchen where hes making something to eat and just go "Hey, Fishface! So--!" Continuing to yap and he just rolls his eyes with a lopsided, lovesick grin u cant see from behind him. From anybody else it'd piss him off, but it's you, So he lets it slide.

• he has the warmest and weirdly softest fuckin hands ever. They're never clammy or sticky, just nice and toasty, perfect.

• is the type to grab your hands in the winter and rub them if theyre cold, trying to transfer his warmth over, even if hes also freezing. breathing hotly onto them.

• speaking of winter he probably HATES IT. He gets SO cold SO easy, hes shaking in his boots fr. A frozen fishstick fr. Like jesus. But the palms of his hands stay warm for some reason..

adding to that hes def a sweater fiend.. He LOVES knitted sweaters and hoodies and TURTLENECKS. HE'D LOOK SO GOOD IN A TURTLENECK. TELL ME IM WRONG. LIKE A BIG, FAT, KNITTED ONE THAT GOES UP TO HIS JAW. Even better if you knit/crocheted them for him <33

• I headcanon that his dad is a human and his mom is a fish person cuz he has hair and rounded teeth which other fishfolk we see don't. We don't see any other fishfolk from piltover tho.. So maybe hes just slapped on a wig, peel-off eyebrows and filed his teeth down (which is INSANELY painful btw) to look "socially acceptable". I HEAVILY doubt that, when i rascism like that ever shown in Arcane, Piltover specifically? 🤔 Im not even gonna get into that whole Vastaya thing cuz i dont know enough.. I heard they can decide how many animal features they show as they please and that they're like deeply connected to magic and live really long.. But that isn't mentioned or even nodded to in Arcane so im just gonna pretend that doesnt exist lol sorry

• but ya he adopted alot of his moms fishy features but also human-ish hair and teeth from his dad.

•speaking of his parents, i do feel like Steb was raised kinda strictly? Idk i just feel like his parents would be very uptight and that stuck with him all the way into adulthood, he stands super upright and is well proper while on the job because thats just what hes been taught.

hes alot more relaxed at home tho, where he knows he doesn't have to be or look presentable for anyone, especially not you. he knows you'll love him even while standing by the fridge in pj's, with a fist full of grated cheese ready to be devoured at circa 2 AM.

• He was raised in a small village on the outskirts, right beside the ocean. Hence he still adores it and loves to go swimming with you, reminds him of his childhood yk c:

• He kinda gives only child vibes to me? Idk the thought of him with an older sibling is kinda cute tho,, i imagine they'd be like complete opposites. They hardly see eachother,, I don't feel like his family lives in Piltover. He had a "Mom, Dad.. I'm 18 now..! I'm moving to the big city. And there is nothing you can do to stop me." Moment, exept in a less verbal way maybe, moving to the city of progress and begining medical and tactical training, to help people. On both sides.

• Hes really good at origami, sometimes when hes at work and droning at his desk with nothing better to do he'll just grab a random paper and fold a little swan together. You've found multiple critters like that scattered around the house, some with faces drawn on, just two inky dots and a derpy smile like this : )

Once he made one of your favorite animal and left it on your nightstand before heading to work, you picked it up and examined it, smile growing even wider when you found the hidden lovenote that was written on it <3

It's now glued neatly into your shared scrapbook/journal along with many more, surrounded by dried flowers and red hearts <33

Uhhhhhhhhhhhrghhhhhhhhhh yeah ❗️🚮 i just debated wether or not this is even worth posting for like twenty minutes.

Pls dont bash me for my opinions now *gulp*

Also heres a lil reminder that im taking requests 💗💗 i love writing i just never have good or original ideas :'o(

[bbina]

alone together ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 . . . don't they?

── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

⋆｡˚ prev | next ˚｡

꩜ notes .ᐟ wc: 1k words. also masterlist finally updated woooo + didnt proof read this so enjoy

꩜ taglist .ᐟ @onlywonb @rosesfortaro @starwonb1n @wonychu @totheseok @dolloie @hyunjinsnumberonefun @binluvsu @onlyhyunjin @annswwa @wonbinsvlle @hakkkuu @ilovejungwonandhaechan @artstaeh @lecheugo @odxrilove @bunni @saranghoeforanton @nujeskz @nakam00t @kyusqult @nctsshoes2 @s9nwoo @daegale @palchokitty @dutifullyannoyingfox @oshakyao @koryutte @b-riize @meowbini @peterm4rker @winuvs @i03jae @rsatoru @enhacolor @dalliesque @sweetiejaeyun @dearestjake @cupidslovearrows @sasfransisco @kkumistars @sngj08 @taroddori @ennycutie @sa3ha @koeuh @astro-doll-the-star @amouriu

wonbin was currently over at your place (like usual) to start composing his duet song for their practical exam next week. not even ten minutes upon his arrival, he already made his way to your bed to "rest his eyes" as he said earlier. he even told you to wake him up in exactly five minutes and so you did

"it's been 5 minutes, bin. wake up" you poke his shoulder as you watch him sleep in your bed. he looks so calm and at peace in times like this

not that you've told a single soul but you two have been sleeping in the same bed for a while now. things really did change after that night during giselle's birthday celebration because wonbin would just end up crashing at your place after your usual nightly movie marathons and convenience store runs

strangely enough, you didn't question it. maybe it's because you've grown so comfortable with wonbin that this almost feels natural for you two to do

it's safe to say it's like you two have been living together secretly

"five more minutes.." wonbin mutters, wrapping himself with your blanket

"you told me that 5 minutes ago" you laughed, now resorting into shaking his shoulder so he could fully wake up

wonbin stays still despite your never ending nudging. right when you were about to kick him as your last measure, wonbin suddenly opens the blanket and drags you under the covers with him

he wraps his arms around your frame as he rests his head onto your chest

"there. much better" he mumbles, sighing in content

you let out a loud laugh before your hands immediately find their way towards his hair, stroking them as you look up at your ceiling

what a weird friendship you two have

"you're going to fail your exams if you keep this up" you joke, gently running your hands through his hair that smelled like mint

wonbin scoffs and moves his head a little that you can feel his breath fan your neck

"that can wait" he says, lips slightly brushing against your neck

you let out a hum. whatever, it's not your project nor responsibility anyway. so instead of pushing him to start working, you just lay there with him in your arms

this is what usually happens when he stays over. quiet moments that it's so peaceful and so mundane that it feels like everything falls into place with him by your side. you can't explain it but it just makes so much sense

a moment of silence passes by that it makes your eyelids feel heavy when you suddenly feel a pair of lips leave a trail of light kisses against your jawline til they gradually make their way up to your cheek. each kiss making your heart pound louder against your chest

your eyes snap open as your breath hitches

"wonbin.." you whispered when his lips hovered near the edge of your mouth. you meet his eyes, his gaze soft yet strong at the same time that it sent goosebumps all over your skin

the next thing you know, you were leaning in as well and so your lips meets his

this was way different from your first kiss with him weeks ago. this time you two didn't hesitate. it wasn't all because you two were caught up in the moment that you felt like you just had to kiss

this is different. it's totally different

because in this moment, you don't want this to ever stop

the kiss gradually went from soft and intimate into something you can't put into words. wonbin had shifted his positon once more. he was hovering above you while your arms are over his neck. with each kiss you take, the more you pull him closer til he was practically lying on top of you

your hands find their way to his hair again, gently tugging them when wonbin deepened the kiss that you accidentally let out a groan in his mouth

wonbin pulls away and moves his lips to your neck again. you let out a small whine when his lips find that sweet spot just below the shell of your ear. you can feel his lips curl into a smirk with what you just did and that just fueled his sudden adrenaline

you cup his cheeks to pull him back to your lips. this time your kisses were feverish, clearly hungry for more. wonbin then begins to trap you in between him, a knee placed in between your legs

things are getting heated in your apartment that the next thing you know was your clothes are slowly thrown onto the floor

you push wonbin off yourself a little to catch your breath, he sits up and cocks his head to the side. is something wrong?

"what are we?" you ask, looking at wonbin who’s lips are now swollen and his neck and collarbones decorated with your art

wonbin blinks before scoffing. he leans closer, smirking down at you as he hovers over you again, trapping you in between his arms

"friends" he says simply, pressing a kiss onto your lips, returning to your previous activity. you just let him for now, his words not really sinking in cause in his defense, you two are friends. nothing more nothing less, right?

wait a minute. friends don't do this. friends don't practically live together. friends don't make out just because, friends don't make you feel like this. friends don't make your heart skip a beat

friends don't do this

you push him off again, sitting up, "friends don't do this, don’t they?" you raise an eyebrow, licking your lips as you stare at the boy who has your heart in his hands

wonbin rolls his eyes playfully, "they do now", pushing you back on the bed to carry on from where you two have left

go figures he would say that. you, yourself aren't too sure where your current status with the boy who’s currently on top of you but either way you don't think about what he meant. all that matters right now is how he's yours at the moment. you think he's yours. he has to be, right?

he's here, with you.

although for some reason, there's a lingering feeling at the back of your head. his answer didn't quite satisfy you but you don't want to press it on much further

maybe it's better this way

after all, if you don't ask, then whatever you have going on with him wouldn't be the end of it. you don't want to hear an answer you don't like anyway

[milessunflowers]

Hello! Um... lestappen (they aren't together, not because they don't want to be but because it doesn't feel right) being happy about seeing their shared crush again after not seeing him because he decided to go to nascar only for him to switch to formula 1 for 2025 because he accepted the offer the new team gave him and because he missed them too. (Feel like lestappen doesn't tell reader that they have been in love with him since f3 because they thought he was straight, male reader thought that max was straight and charles was bisexual leaning to women and also didn't tell them he was in love with them)

Also! Love everything you've written so far! Love the franco, paper rings, fic its my fav so far!!!

–🍑

thank you so much peach!! that motivates me so much!! also this idea *chefs kiss*

max verstappen x male!reader x charles leclerc

synopsis: when you finally make your debut back in the world of formula racing, max and charles come to terms with how much they loved you, leading to you finally confessing.

author's note: okay so after some practice, i am now comfortable enough that i can write well enough for a driver!reader. for purposes, cadillac will already be a team and reader will be american AND LOGAN IS HIS TEAMMATE BC I SAY SO (miss my american sm😔) EVEN IF IT IS ONLY BRIEFLY MENTIONED. anyways, feel free to request, read the guidelines first ofc! (also apologies for the lack of dialogue in this one. i kinda forgot how to write good dialogue and kinda just let things flow! felt right for the vibes to me idk)

formula one, a true dream come true for you. you had raced in earlier formula series, alongside the likes of now four time world champion, max verstappen, and ferrari golden boy, charles leclerc. you hadn't seen them in a few tears as you had been busy racing in nascar, dominating the tracks at almost every track. you missed them, more than you would ever admit.

when you first heard that cadillac would be joining formula one as a brand new team, you felt sparks of hope erupt deep in your chest. maybe, just maybe, you would finally get the chance to race against your once competitors (and the two men who were your first real crushes).

you hadn't expected to be approached by your manager with a multi-year deal with the american team. without a second thought, you signed immediately, ecstatic that you could prove yourself to those you grew up racing, not including your all-time hero, fernando alonso. you couldn't keep in your excitement, which was clear to everyone in your immediate circle, including your new teammate and mentee (who in reality is a year younger than you), logan sargeant.

when it was revealed you were to be racing for the newest addition to the paddock, max and charles had almost the same reaction: joyful nervousness. they realized all to late the feelings they harbored for you.

but now... now you're back. it was exciting and terrifying for the two men, who have grown accustomed to only really seeing each other and never acknowledging those feelings.

to say that you were all big fat chickens was an understatement.

the first time you reappeared in the busy paddock, charles felt his heart jump to his throat while max just felt frozen. in ways, they each thought you looked better, less stressed and more mature. you seemed genuinely happy, especially in what they always called your natural habitat. you were a social able person after all.

they struck up small conversations during the driver's parade, mainly catching up and swapping jokes. it reminded you three of the old times, even if max and charles back then had some sort of beef. it made you feel even happier and more excited to be back and racing in the formula series.

it took a good few races before the three of you finally shared a podium. you would have never expected to feel more excited about p2 then now. in the cool down room, you chatted heartedly with max, awaiting for the winner to finally arrive. once the three of you were together, it was nothing but subtle flirting and chatter until it was time to go to the podium. even there (save for during monaco's national anthem as well as the italian one ringing) the three would not shut up.

it wasn't until the after party at the club where the three of you drank half of your body weight, confessing with no shame to each other. you couldn't remember the night, having had way too much to drink after celebrating your first podium of the season.

when you awoke the morning, you were in an unfamiliar hotel room, a warm weight behind you. you groan awake, blinking as the morning sun shone bright through the curtains, bathing yourself, max verstappen, and charles leclerc in a beautiful golden li-

wait, max and charles? you sobered up real quick and scrambled out of bed, falling with a loud thud in the process. you curse yourself, trying to grab whatever shirt was closest and pulling it on.

charles was the next one awake, stirring on the farthest side of the bed where he had curled around max. he blinked those beautiful eyes awake, a soft smile gracing your lips before you snapped out of it.

this couldn't be happening. you were half panicked, half happy to have woken up with the two men you had secretly loved for years but never, in a million lifetimes, would have ever thought were anything but into you. charles rubbed the sleep from his eyes, not yet having caught on what was happening. you stood there dumbly, still as a statue as you both finally made eye contact.

you chuckled awkwardly and charles let out a surprised yelp, loud enough to startle the last man asleep awake. you stared at each other for a good, long, ten seconds before max broke the silence with a cough before he sat up, as if all this was casual. it was very on brand for the dutchman.

it was quiet again, charles blinking blankly while you scrambled to collect your belongings. max stops you, sits you back down on the bed, and tries to calm you and charles down. and for some reason, it was too easy for him to.

he was gentle and sweet, carefully explaining what was going (or at least what he thought) before he finally comes clean, opening up about his feelings. after that, it was easy for you and charles to do the same, just in a slightly less organized and calm manner. it was no longer awkward but sweet and caring, soothing each nerve in the three bodies to a nice, warm hum.

you offered to make breakfast while max and charles cleaned up. from then on, it had become routine. from the hotel stays in different countries, to moving into the same apartment in monaco now overrun with pets. it was healthy and well established, the three of you keeping things strictly business at work but at home, leaving raving behind for a nice night in with the lobes of your life.

TAGS! (if you would like to be added, lmk!)

@op-81-lvr-reblogs, @koalapastries, @justaf1girl, @ghostking4m

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Mexican GP

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming.

The roar of engines echoed through the paddock, the familiar hum of pre-race chaos buzzing in the air. Practice sessions were in full swing, and I was doing everything I could to keep my head in the game.

The car felt decent—better than I expected on the bumpy, high-altitude track. But my focus was fraying at the edges, stretched thin by the relentless schedule and the undercurrent of tension that followed me everywhere.

Every time I stepped out of the car, Henry was there. Whether it was snide remarks about my driving, veiled insinuations about my competence, or thinly veiled flirtations that made my skin crawl, he always found a way to remind me of his presence.

“Not bad,” he said after the second practice session, his tone dripping with condescension. “But if you could push just a little harder in Turn 4, maybe you wouldn’t be so far off Fernando’s pace.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap at him. “Noted,” I replied curtly, forcing a smile for the sake of professionalism.

Mark and Tom tried to help where they could, offering constructive feedback and redirecting conversations when Henry’s comments veered into inappropriate territory. But their attempts were often shut down with a sharp glare or dismissive remark from Henry.

By the time media duties rolled around, my energy was already depleted. The questions from reporters were the usual mix of predictable and pointed:

“How are you feeling after your first win?”

“Do you think you can replicate that success here in Mexico?”

“What’s it like competing alongside Fernando Alonso?”

I gave them my best answers, masking my exhaustion and frustration behind a practiced smile. The last thing I needed was for anyone to catch on to how I was really feeling.

After the press conference, I bumped into Oscar and Lando in the paddock.

“You okay?” Oscar asked, his brows knitting together in concern. “You seem... off.”

“Just a rough weekend,” I said quickly, waving him off with a small smile. “I’ll bounce back.”

Lando tilted his head, studying me with a frown. “You sure? You’ve been a bit... quiet. Not your usual snarky self.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to sound more convincing than I felt. “Just tired, that’s all.”

They didn’t look entirely convinced, but they didn’t push either. I appreciated that, even as guilt churned in my stomach. I couldn’t tell them the truth. If word got out that I was struggling with Henry, it wouldn’t take long for the narrative to shift.

“She’s too sensitive.” “She can’t handle the pressure.” “She’s just a weak little girl trying to play with the big boys.”

I couldn’t risk it. Not after everything I’d worked for.

As the day dragged on, I kept my head down, burying myself in the technical briefings and debriefs, trying to drown out Henry’s presence. But no matter how hard I tried, his words clung to me like a shadow, creeping into the corners of my mind and making it harder to focus.

By the time I returned to my hotel room that evening, I felt like I was hanging on by a thread. I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion and frustration washed over me.

Tomorrow was another day, another chance to prove myself. But as much as I wanted to believe that, a small, nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered otherwise.

The paddock was already bustling when I arrived on Qualifying day. Engineers zipped back and forth, journalists hovered for quick soundbites, and the hum of engines warming up vibrated in the air. I clutched my bag a little tighter as I walked toward my garage, trying to shake off the growing pit in my stomach.

It didn’t take long for Henry to find me.

“There you are,” he said, stepping into my path with a smirk that instantly put me on edge. “Thought you’d try to sneak past me today.”

“I’m just here to do my job,” I replied, keeping my tone even as I tried to step around him.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Oh, I know. But maybe you’d do it better if you weren’t so uptight all the time. Loosen up, Y/N. You’re not here to impress anyone, are you?”

I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite smile. “Excuse me, I need to get to the car.”

Henry finally stepped aside, but not before brushing a little too close for comfort. I made a beeline for my personal driver’s room, my sanctuary in this chaos. Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The room wasn’t much—just a small space with a couch, a locker, and a desk—but it was mine, and more importantly, it was somewhere Henry couldn’t follow.

Every chance I got, I hid in there. Between briefings, media obligations, and prepping for Qualifying, I retreated to the room to recharge and escape his incessant remarks. But out in the paddock, there was no avoiding him.

At one point, as I was heading back from a strategy meeting, Henry was once again trailing behind me, making one of his usual inappropriate comments.

“Do you always walk this fast?” he teased, falling into step beside me. “You know, you don’t have to be so cold. A smile wouldn’t kill you.”

I bit my tongue, willing myself not to snap at him.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see Max and Lando approaching from the opposite direction. Relief washed over me like a wave.

Max’s sharp eyes flicked between me and Henry, his expression hardening slightly. “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just heading to the garage.”

Lando’s gaze lingered on Henry, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “You sure? You look... tense.”

“I’m good,” I insisted, brushing it off as casually as I could. “Just a busy day, you know how it is.”

Max didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms, his towering presence suddenly feeling like a wall between me and Henry. “If you say so.”

Henry, for his part, looked completely unfazed. “She’s just focused,” he said smoothly, flashing a grin that made my stomach churn. “That’s what we like about her.”

I shot him a warning glance before turning back to Max and Lando. “Thanks for checking in, but really, I’m fine.”

They didn’t press further, though I could feel their eyes on me as I walked away, Henry still trailing a few paces behind.

As soon as I was out of earshot, Max turned to Lando, his expression dark. “She’s not fine.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lando muttered, glancing after me. “Henry’s always been a bit... much, but that was something else.”

Max nodded, his jaw tightening. “We need to keep an eye on her. Something’s off.”

“Agreed,” Lando said, his usual light tone replaced with quiet determination. “Let’s make sure she knows she’s not alone anymore.”

Meanwhile, back in the garage, I settled into my driver’s room once more, trying to shake off the encounter. But the pit in my stomach only grew, a gnawing reminder that no matter how much I tried to brush it off, something had to give—and soon.

-timeskip- 

The time finally arrived for qualifying, and I felt a strange mix of relief and focus wash over me. For the first time all day, Henry had no reason to be in my orbit—he was stationed on the pit wall, his attention glued to the screens monitoring the car’s performance.

The moment I stepped into the garage and put on my helmet, it was like a switch flipped. The world outside the car didn’t matter anymore. My heart rate steadied, and my grip on the steering wheel felt like an extension of myself. The tension that had weighed on me all weekend melted away as I slid into the cockpit.

The team ran through the final checks as I got comfortable in the car. Mark’s voice came through the radio, calm and steady. “All systems are good. Just focus on the track, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

“Copy that,” I replied, my voice steady. This was my domain, the one place where no one could touch me.

The first two sessions were rough. The car felt a little twitchy, especially in Sector 2, and I struggled to find a rhythm. I pushed through, adjusting my lines and braking points with each lap, determined not to let the day’s earlier frustrations seep into my performance.

As Q3 rolled around, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The track was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd blending with the scream of engines. This was it—the moment to make it count.

I pushed the car harder than I had all weekend, finding time in the tricky middle sector and nailing the final corner with just enough finesse to keep the lap together. When I crossed the line, my engineer’s voice crackled in my ear.

“P4, Y/N. Great job! Carlos is on pole, Max P2, Lando P3. Solid result.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, a small smile tugging at my lips. P4 wasn't a pole, but it was more than I had expected given the challenges of the day.

“Thanks, team,” I said, feeling a flicker of pride. “The car felt better that lap. Appreciate the hard work.”

As I brought the car back to the pits, the weight of the day began to lift. For the first time all weekend, I felt like myself again—not the woman constantly dodging Henry’s advances or the driver carrying the pressure of proving she belonged here, but just me.

I climbed out of the car, pulling off my helmet and shaking out my hair. The team greeted me with nods and claps, and I let myself enjoy the moment, however fleeting it might be.

The hotel room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. I let the door shut behind me with a heavy thud, kicking off my shoes and tossing my bag onto the chair in the corner. The adrenaline from qualifying had faded, leaving behind an unsettling cocktail of exhaustion and vulnerability.

The bathroom’s warm light was a stark contrast to the cool, sterile tones of the rest of the room. I turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the small space, and leaned against the counter while I waited for the water to heat up. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror, hair disheveled and dark circles starting to form under my eyes.

I pulled off my post session sweats and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my sore muscles. It should’ve been relaxing, but my mind had other plans.

Henry’s words from earlier echoed in my head, relentless and insidious. “Maybe you’d do better if you weren’t so uptight all the time.” “You’re not here to impress anyone, are you?” “That’s what we like about her.”

The mocking tone, the smug grin—it all played on a loop, growing louder and harder to ignore. I scrubbed at my skin as if I could wash away the feeling of his gaze, the weight of his presence lingering like a stain.

I leaned against the cool tile wall, closing my eyes and taking a shaky breath. Was he right? Was I too uptight? Too focused on proving myself? My confidence, so solid on the track, seemed to crumble the moment I stepped out of the car.

After finishing the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and padded back into the room. The steam followed me, curling into the corners of the space as I sat on the edge of the bed. My routine continued mechanically: brushing out my hair, applying lotion, slipping into comfortable clothes. Each movement was automatic, a distraction from the growing weight pressing down on my chest.

But the thoughts didn’t stop.

Henry’s words weren’t new; they echoed sentiments I’d heard my whole life. “She’s too ambitious.” “She’s too emotional.” “She’s just here for attention.”

I ran a hand through my damp hair, staring at the floor as the doubts wormed their way deeper. My reflection in the full-length mirror caught my eye again. I stood there, taking in every perceived flaw, every reason I didn’t belong.

Was I really good enough? Or was everyone just waiting for me to fail?

I sat back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest as the self-consciousness gnawed at me. The pride I’d felt earlier, qualifying P4 in a tough session, felt like a distant memory. All I could think about was how much more I had to prove, how many people were waiting to say, “I told you so.”

The loneliness of the room wrapped around me like a shroud. I wanted to cry, to scream, to break something—but instead, I sat there in silence, letting the doubts and insecurities seep into every corner of my mind.

Tomorrow was another day, another fight. But tonight, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

A soft knock at the door broke through the silence of the room. I froze, startled out of my spiraling thoughts. Who would be coming to my room now? Cautiously, I approached the door, glancing through the peephole. Relief washed over me as I saw familiar faces. Hannah and Liam.

I opened the door, and they greeted me with matching grins, Liam holding up a bag that smelled suspiciously like burgers. “Surprise!” he said, stepping past me into the room.

Hannah followed, balancing a tote bag that clinked faintly with the sound of bottled drinks. “We figured you could use some company,” she said, her voice warm and understanding.

“I—uh, yeah,” I said, stepping back to let them in. “Come on in.”

They didn’t wait for a second invitation, making themselves at home. Liam pulled a blanket off the bed and spread it across the floor, creating an impromptu picnic spot, while Hannah unpacked the food.

“We brought burgers, fries, and milkshakes,” Hannah said, glancing over her shoulder with a teasing smile. “Your favorites, right?”

I nodded, touched by the gesture. “Yeah, they are. Thanks, guys.”

We settled onto the floor, the hotel room’s TV playing a cheesy rom-com in the background. For a while, we just ate and talked about everything but racing—joking about Liam’s terrible taste in movies and Hannah’s overly dramatic reactions to every plot twist.

But I could feel their eyes on me, watching closely, their usual banter tinged with a hint of concern.

“So,” Liam said after a pause, leaning back on his hands, “how’s everything going? You’ve been quieter than usual this weekend.”

I hesitated, swirling my straw in my milkshake. “It’s... been a lot,” I admitted carefully. “The pressure from the team is just... a lot to deal with, you know?”

Hannah tilted her head, her expression soft. “You’ve been under pressure since day one, Y/N. This feels different.”

I bit my lip, avoiding their gazes. “It’s just... the expectations. They’ve grown. It’s like... like I have to be perfect all the time. I can’t mess up. Can’t let anyone down.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I froze when I realized I’d echoed something Henry had said earlier in the week.

“Can’t let anyone down,” Hannah repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “Who’s been saying that to you?”

“N-no one,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “It’s just how I feel. It’s nothing, really.”

Liam exchanged a glance with Hannah but didn’t push. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Y/N, you’ve always been good at handling the pressure. But if someone’s making you feel like you’re not good enough, screw them.”

“Yeah,” Hannah chimed in, her voice firm. “You’ve earned your place here. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

I smiled faintly, grateful for their support, but their words only made the guilt churn in my stomach. I couldn’t tell them the truth. Not yet.

By the end of the night, as we laughed over the absurd ending of the movie and polished off the last of the fries, the tension in my chest had eased slightly. But I could tell Hannah and Liam were still worried. They hadn’t figured out who was getting into my head, but they knew someone was.

As they stood to leave, Hannah gave me a quick hug. “We’re here, okay? For anything.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, meaning it.

Liam lingered in the doorway, his usual teasing grin replaced by something softer. “Don’t forget, Y/N. You’ve got a whole grid of people who’ve got your back, whether you like it or not.”

I nodded, watching as they walked down the hallway.

Liam and Hannah walked down the hallway in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they turned the corner, safely out of earshot from Y/N’s room, that Liam finally spoke.

“She’s not telling us everything,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know her. She always tries to deal with things alone when it gets bad.”

Hannah nodded, her expression serious. “Yeah. She slipped up a couple of times, repeating things someone else must’ve said. ‘Can’t let anyone down’? That didn’t sound like her.”

As they reached the lobby, they spotted Max Verstappen leaning against a wall, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as they approached, immediately straightening when he caught their expressions.

“What’s going on?” Max asked, tucking his phone away.

Hannah glanced around to make sure no one else was listening before answering. “We went to check on Y/N. She’s not okay, Max. She’s brushing it off as team pressure, but it’s more than that. Someone’s in her head.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. “I thought so. I saw something earlier—her engineer. He was following her around the paddock like a shadow, making her visibly uncomfortable. She tried to act like everything was fine, but I could tell it wasn’t. The guy’s overly demanding, crossing the line from professional to... something else.”

Liam crossed his arms, his frustration bubbling over. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Max shot him a pointed look. “What was I supposed to do? Accuse someone without knowing the full story? She’d hate that. But now I’m starting to think it’s worse than I realized.”

Hannah hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you think... it’s more than just workplace harassment?”

“What do you mean?” Liam asked, frowning.

Hannah shifted uncomfortably, lowering her voice. “What if he’s grooming her? I mean, the way she described his comments—they weren’t just about her performance. They sounded... personal. Like he’s trying to break her down, make her feel dependent on him.”

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger barely contained. “If that’s what’s happening—if he’s trying to manipulate her into something worse—he’s going to regret it.”

Liam nodded, his jaw set. “We need to keep an eye on her. If she won’t talk to us, we have to make sure she’s not alone with him as much as possible.”

Hannah sighed, worry etched across her face. “And if we’re wrong? What if it’s just the pressure getting to her?”

Max’s voice was cold, determined. “Then we’ll still have her back. But if we’re right, he’s done. No one messes with one of us like that. Especially not her.”

The trio stood in silence for a moment, a shared understanding passing between them. Y/N might not have asked for their help, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t give it.

“She’s not going to like this,” Liam said finally, shaking his head.

Max smirked, though his eyes remained hard. “She’ll thank us later. Or she won’t. Either way, we’re not letting this slide.”

With that, they split off, each silently vowing to protect her, no matter what it took.

As they parted ways, Max pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he composed a message. He wasn’t one to stir the pot unnecessarily, but this was different. Y/N was part of their grid family now, and family looked out for each other.

Max Verstappen (Group Chat: "Grid Gossip")Guys, we need to talk about something serious.

The chat, typically filled with memes, jokes, and random banter, immediately grew quiet. The typing bubbles from multiple drivers popped up almost instantly.

Lando Norris:What’s going on?

Charles Leclerc:Serious? Coming from you, Max?

Lewis Hamilton:What’s happening?

Max sighed, leaning against the wall, and continued typing.

Max Verstappen:It’s about Y/N. I’ve noticed her engineer, acting really off with her. Following her around, being overly demanding, and making comments that clearly make her uncomfortable. Liam, Hannah, and I think it might be more than just workplace stuff.

George Russell:More than workplace stuff? Like harassment?

Max Verstappen:Maybe. Hannah thinks it might even be grooming. The way he’s breaking her down, it’s not normal. She won’t tell us what’s really going on, but it’s affecting her. Badly.

Lando Norris:I’ve seen him hovering too. She tries to brush it off, but you can tell she’s not okay.

Carlos Sainz:This is serious. What’s the plan?

Lewis Hamilton:We can’t just sit back and do nothing. We need to be careful, though. If we push too hard, it might make things worse for her.

Max Verstappen:Agreed. For now, we keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s not alone with him. And if he crosses the line again, we step in. Hard.

Charles Leclerc:I’ll talk to her if I get the chance. Maybe she’ll open up to me.

George Russell:Or me. She’s close with a few of us. If we all subtly check in, she might feel comfortable enough to tell one of us.

Lando Norris:And if she doesn’t? What if she keeps trying to handle it alone?

Max Verstappen:Then we protect her anyway. She is not going to fight this by herself, this engineer holds to much over her. 

The group chat lit up with agreements, each driver vowing to do their part.

As Max slipped his phone back into his pocket, a small weight lifted from his chest. Y/N wasn’t alone in this, whether she realized it yet or not. The grid had her back, and together, they’d make sure no one—least of all Henry—could tear her down.

[gouraminnow]

In the “warmth” snippet you made for yandere Shanks, I’m really curious as to how he and the other Red-Hair pirates would react if the reader trained to become stronger. Whether the reader is training to escape in future or if they’ve given up on that and is just training to keep up/not be a burden/etc, I’m curious as to what they - and especially Shanks - would think about it!

Short this ask references

Honestly?

Even if it's to escape, nobody's worried. They think it's cute. It's a little disheartening, actually- you were scared of being punished for it, of these powerful men hovering over you, ready to put a stop to it. So you have some makeshift weights hidden somewhere, maybe even a wooden practice sword you thought you'd squirreled away- but you should have known they would know. You slink down into your corner in the storage room one day, hoping to to practice- and Shanks is already there, reclining with your training sword in hand. You tense but he just chuckles, making a show of examining it.

"Feeling inspired?" He teases, and you jolt- curling in on yourself. He stands, setting your pathetic stick down as his shadow falls over you, and you're sure he's upset, sure something is going to happen- you're trembling at the first step he takes but you don't run. You clench your fists and stay still, eyes trained to the coarse wood floor until his sandaled feet come into view. You squeak when a warm hand suddenly clasps your shoulder. "I wish you had told me. I'm sure I have a few tips you could use," he says, a chuckle bubbling up out of his chest. You suddenly almost feel like you could throw up. Not only does he see your efforts as trivial, as so non-threatening that he'll help you get better himself- now he's going to try and turn it into another way to smother you in attention.

You shake your head, lips pressed into a thin line. "Aw, come on. Don't be like that," he chides, pulling you close. "Who better to teach you than an Emperor, hmm?"

If it's to pull your weight, an effort not to be useless- whether because you've truly accepted things or in the event of things going wrong- well this is adorable too, but met with assurances that you don't have to. Maybe Shanks might feign offense at the idea that he can't care for you. From there, it's more of the same, he tries to insist on training you himself.

[x3nawr1tes]

★RULER OF MY HEART★- ch2

“Tabito- what-“

“Ya said ya wanted to get out, so im here,” he smirks

“you didnt have to,” You sigh as you look at him. “Plus- i dont have a helmet”

His bike glistened behind him. “i have yours” karasu hands you your helmet. you were confused.

“Wait- how the hell do you have this-?”

“broke in”

“tabito!” “sorry~” he sheepishly says. He obviously didnt feel bad. “i shouldnt have given you a spare…”

youre already regretting this decision. “Just let me know if youre going into my apartment…”

“fine, fine. Just get on.” Tabito hops on the bike while you follow suit. You wrap your arms around his waist. This was nothing new- you've done it many times before. As you get on, you can feel the stares of your peers around you. Not that you care. You've been the subject of rumors for as long as you can remember.

"I really should be studying..."

“Yeah, you can study biology. At my place" Tabito winks at the side mirror and you can feel your face heating up.

Your face cools down as you deadpan, "I major in pharmaceuticals. What the fuck will I do? Test out drugs on you? And do you stalk my Twitter-? scratch that- you clearly do. Creep"

"I'm thoughtful"

"Still a creep. Let's get out of here." People are staring and I don't like it, you think as tabito finally starts the engine of the bike and drives you to your place. The drive is nice- the scenery green as ever in the spring. You feel the wind blowing against your body, but it stops as soon as tabito parks in front of your apartment complex.

You hop off the bike, your hands leaving his waist. “bye tabito” you wave. “…”

“you can come in. Want me to order something?” You sigh.

he immediately hops off and follows you to your apartment. The cozy atmosphere draws you in as the two of you walk in. Tabito sits next to you on the couch as you lean on the pillows. You pull out your phone.

“what do you wanna doordash?” “you decide”

“no you”

“fine- ramen-!” You pull up the first restaurant you see on the app. Its rated 4.7 stars- but at this point you dont give a fuck. Anything is better than studying. You order first and practically shove the phone in Tabitos’s hands and he places his order.

you input your credit card information and without skipping a beat you say, “you owe me”

“huh?!?!”

“Just kidding”

“Good- ‘m your best friend after all~”

“dont make me change my mind…”

About 40 minutes later you get the ramen from the restaurant. The smell wafts in the air and youre practically drooling over the tender meat and flavorful broth (at least thats what you think it is). As youre about to dig in, tabito takes the lame plastic container and transfers the dish to a bowl you have.

“what are you doing? Im hungry” Its evident through your tone.

“Dont get cranky. Let me just…”

you swear an hour passes as Tabito neatly arranges the ramen to look presentable and then takes a picture.

“what the hell are you? An influencer?”

“Ah- ya dont need to nag, y’ know. Im just making it more presentable. I also added furikake and nori.”

He pushed the bowl to you. “Eat up”

“Presentable my ass. Im fucking hungry” You can see tabito’s lit screen next to you. Hes posting the picture to twitter and tagging you.

“Twitter addict”

“shut up, y/n. You post more than me. ‘Im not touching twitter with a ten foot pole!’ My ass”

He has a point. “…”

you can see tabito’s smug smirk as he has the last word. You’ll get him back for this. Right now, ramen. The broth fills your mouth, the flavors hitting your tongue. You were right- the meat was tender. You make a mental note of the place- maybe you’ll go there in person with kiana or something.

“im bored-“

“The remotes over there. I wanna take a shower”

“arent u supposed to be a good host? Entertain me, y/n-!”

“I can hardly do that.”

A thought comes to your head. “Anyways- are you going to be racing today? I think ima go today. I need a break”

He brushes your question off, “just admit youre procrastinating. I saw your discord- you were playing Persona for AT LEAST four hours”

“Yeah but i went to the library-“

“Still-!”

“Yeah, yeah” you say bitterly. “Are you going though? I dont wanna bring kiana- shes gonna give me an earful. And i dont want to hear shidou yap about busting”

Karasu giggles a bit, “if yer going, yeah”

“Mhh… alright” you continue slurping up your ramen

~~~~~~~~~~~

You step into the old, rusty metal factory. The cool night air turns into a cement like scent. Its a feeling you cant describe, but still enjoy. You park your bike in a corner and wait to race. You can see tabito in the distance, his smile unwavering as hes waving.

you look around and see the other racers. Shidou’s here. Thats annoying. The manwhore eita is too… chigiri isnt too bad- and there are some other guys you dont really know. A redhead and some guy with an ahoge. Not that you care. You turn on your heels and face Karasu

“if i win, ramens on you all of next week-!”

“Like you will- if i win…” he thinks for a moment

Karasu and you, despite being childhood friends, are extremely competitive. Whether it be academics or something silly, you both wouldnt let the other win.

“if i win, i want a kiss. Right on the lips”

“Why? Ew- no”

Worth a shot… “fine. I also want ramen for all of next week.”

“Deal!” You both say in unison.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Three, two, one!!!” The flag girl says.

the whir of motorcycle engines could be heard. All the racers were ready and sped up, trying to to out do the person in front of them. You and karasu are neck and neck at the front as usual. Trying to scan the area for shortcuts, Tabito beats you by faking a turn left and turning right. You slam your brakes, which causes you to fall behind. Damn.

You quickly recover and catch up to some people. You do some calculations in your head… If Tabito went that way at approximately this speed, he should be ahead by a bit. I could probably get someone to distract him… but thats boring. Knowing Tabito, hes probably getting cocky and slowing down… You speed faster than you are right now, if thats possible.

which it is! Because youre now neck and neck… not for long. You fall behind Tabito and start tailgating him. Approaching a corner, you both turn. Youre now slightly in front of him- maybe an inch. The wind around you is nice and cold- perfect for a moment like this where you beat him. As you approach the other end, you gain more distance- but then Tabito gains it back. Its a huge struggle, but as you cross the finish line first- you know its worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you are both leaning against the rusty old walls, watching the other racers that are going after you guys. Theyre getting ready, Some of them clearly newbies.

“anyways, i want ramen. Lets go- theres a good 24hr place around here” you strut toward toward your motorcycle. That ramen was a must have.

“big back”

“Shut the hell up. Let a girl eat”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“mmh!!! This is so good!!!” You say as you slurp down the firm noodles. From the moment you went in, you were immediately comforted by the aura of the place. Its been a while since you were last here, but nothing changed. The dim lighting and cozy seating welcomed you just as it had months ago

“Whats up with you and ramen? We literally had it a few hours ago…” karasu grumbles. He ordered an assorted barbecue plate filled with with kalbi ribs and katsu. As soon as he says that, you lean over from across the table to where hes sitting and grab a piece of meat. As you plop it into your mouth, you taste the love and care that went into making the dish. Its so good, you take another piece.

Tabito sounds a bit bitter, “thats my fuckin food-“

“Might i remind u who won?”

“and? You coulda asked…”

“Thats fair. Sorry about that. Anyways, can i have another piec-“ before you respond, tabito takes noodles from your bowl. "-hey!"

Tabito says matter of factly, "You stole first"

"You lost the race-"

"Yeah, yeah. Shut yer mouth up"

You both laugh, the warm lighting from above the two of you illuminating your faces. As you're laughing, you can't help but get struck with a thought. 1) tabito looks... kind of good like this. When did that happen? Oh well, I guess it's the aging. And 2) is this a date? You don't know why these thoughts even came into your head. You guys have hung out together for years, so why now are these thoughts intruding your mind. After all, tabito is your childhood friend... right?

FUN FACTS!

•y/n MIGHT like ramen

•y/n doesnt think karasu is serious when hed flirting with her (he is)

•karasu is trying to get y/n to see him as an adult- not some kid.

•the redhead during the race was sae

A/n: cant believe i made it to the second chapter and finished it! Btw, this was NOT beta read… im rlly happy :) also, this definitely was not my best work. My writing is pretty rusty, but i guess this fic can be practice. Lmk if u guys like the writing segments or twitter posts!

CH. 1 || CH. 2 || CH. 3

TAGLIST: @fishii28 @mixolya @narcjsistx @sky-casino @aztec-ahuizotil @morgyyyyyyy