#since I’m like I’m this fandom now I get to be as cringe as I want

[snoozerin]

Uh🤔

[immoral-stranger]

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Summary: “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!” — Or, in which an accident-prone girl stumbles and falls for everything, including Lando.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem! reader

Word count: 23.2k (grab a snack)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: injuries, hospitals, surgery, scars, blood, dead parent, mention of car crash. Smut: penetrative sex, oral (f! receiving), body insecurities, very vanilla. Fluff: idiots to lovers, so much pining and scheming. Other: inaccurate timeline and made-up race results. it's fiction, folks!

A/N: Posting this then falling off the face of the earth, because this fandom is scary. Kinda unedited for now. English is not my first language! ♡

Melbourne, Australia

Lando didn’t recognise you at first. Granted, he wasn’t the best at remembering faces, but usually if he’d met someone, he would remember them the second time around. Although, this wasn’t his second time seeing you, he would later learn. It was probably close to the tenth time. It had just been some time since your last encounter. For a logical reason, he would also later learn. 

Albert Park, 2024. Race day. That’s where he saw you this time. Walking down the paddock, next to Oscar and his girlfriend Jasmine, trying to keep up as the three of you made your way to the McLaren garage. Your hair getting messed up by the breeze, annoyingly sticking to your glossy lips, feet almost tripping on the seam of your baggy jeans. You were out of your element, putting on a brave smile — and Lando could tell. 

He didn’t realise he’d been staring at you, from his seat on the steps up to his motorhome, until you were out of eyeshot again, somewhere in the garage. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why you were familiar and it was killing him. If you were Australian, maybe that would explain it, since Lando had no way of keeping track of all of Oscar’s old friends. 

But you weren’t Australian. As he later walked into hospitality, he overheard a bubbly British accent talking to Jasmine and Oscar, an accent belonging to you. It confused him even more, really gnawed inside of him. He should know you, yet something wasn’t aligning, something wasn’t right. Oscar wouldn’t just fly anyone halfway across the globe. 

It all came crashing down when he heard Jasmine ask you a simple question. 

“Bunny, can you grab me a fork?”

Standing up from the table, you gave Lando a small smile as you caught his gaze, signalling that you at least knew who he was. 

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. The nickname finally made him realise, finally made him recognise you. But you weren’t the Bunny he’d met at multiple races before. You didn’t look like she did. Or, you didn’t look like you used to. Bunny was Jasmine’s childhood friend who had gotten sick, who had stopped traveling, who had stopped coming to races at all. The girl before him however, wasn’t sick. You didn’t look weak in any sense. Nervous, fidgety, and out of place, sure — but never weak. 

As you were about to say a quiet hello to him as you walked past, Lando was already falling apart — socially that is. Words were stumbling out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to keep up. He cringed internally before he could even finish the sentence. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were dead!” 

He shocked you, that was obvious. Your eyes went wide as you struggled to say something in response. 

“Lando, you can’t just say that to someone,” Oscar chuckled from a few metres back. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just… didn’t recognise you,” Lando stuttered out as you still stood dumbfounded in front of him. 

“You don’t think I would’ve told you if my best friend died?” Jasmine butted in, standing from the table, placing herself beside you. 

She could tell that you didn’t know how to react, already expressing your nerves about how uncomfortable it would be to attend a race after not going for a very long time, afraid that people would ask too many questions.

“It’s alright, it’s been a long time,” you finally managed to say. 

Then, an uncomfortable silence fell over the four of you. It was like you knew that you should explain why it had been such a long time, but you didn’t know how to do it —casually explaining the second most traumatic experience of your, thus far, relatively short life. It wasn’t casual at all, and you couldn’t even try to fake it. 

“Ehm, I’ll go get that fork for you Jazz,” you broke the silence, swiftly excusing yourself to go back to the catering table. 

Oscar couldn’t stop chuckling and Jasmine looked borderline offended, something she tended to do, a resting bitch-face of sorts. Lando felt like the stupidest, most socially inept person alive, mentally facepalming himself as he watched you leave. This was going to be a long day. 

Lando’s race however, was frustratingly short. 

You and Jasmine watched the race from the garage, surrounded by muddled mechanics, blinking monitors and loud noises. It really was a circus, a well-oiled machine, fascinating to watch. You’d forgotten how fun it could be. Also, how nerve-wracking it was to be standing next to Jasmine while her boyfriend — love of her life, light of her eye — was going 300 km/h, head to head with insanely competitive people, in big death traps. 

The early races of the 2023 season that you had managed to catch in person hadn’t been too impressive, from McLaren’s standpoint. Your humble opinion was that anyone who even sat in one of those cars was more courageous and impressive than you would ever manage to be. As the last season went on, you had learnt to trust the process, but both you and Jasmine would be lying if you said that 2024 didn’t look like an even better year for the brightly papaya-coloured team you were rooting for.  

With both drivers in good starting positions and Verstappen’s brakes catching fire on the third lap, Jasmine couldn’t contain her excitement, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet next to you. Ferrari’s in the lead and McLaren fighting for that glorious third spot. It wasn’t until Lando had a chance to pass Leclerc that the castle in the air came crumbling down. Ooh’s and aah’s filled the garage as you watched the scene unfold on a monitor.

“Oh, fuck,” you said under your breath, knowing that barely anyone would be able to hear you in the crowded space. “Is it over for him?”

Jasmine had been too busy squealing over Oscar going into third that she failed to realise that it was on the cost of Lando. That was until his car came rolling into the pit lane with irreparable damage from making contact with Leclerc. 

You’d seen it happen before, but that didn’t change the feeling. Your heart basically lodges itself in your throat, making you unable to breathe for a couple seconds. And then it was the aftermath… Seeing the driver leave their car, head hung low, just wanting to scream at the world in frustration but bottling it all up inside. 

Leclerc wouldn’t even get a penalty, it was just how racing worked sometimes. That didn’t change the feeling of complete utter failure for Lando. You could tell that as he, with assertive steps, made his way to his driver’s room, slamming the door shut so hard that it only flew back open again. 

“Bunny.” Jasmine grabbed your arm to get your attention, leaning closer so that you would hear her. “One of us has to go ask if he’s alright. He doesn’t have anyone here with him.” 

“Doesn’t he have an entire team to do that?” you wondered. 

Surely, they didn’t send these drivers out without having enough support from the team when something went wrong. Surely, you thought. The look on Jasmine’s face told you the opposite. The fact that no one was running after Lando to his room was also quite telling. Or maybe… they knew better than to disturb him. Maybe Jasmine was setting you up for failure by asking you to comfort someone who didn’t want to be comforted. 

“He’s gonna need someone who’s not obsessed with performance and profit. Trust me, the people on this team may be nice, but they are not human when it comes to things like this,” Jasmine explained, and you took her word for it. 

“Am I the best option?”

You didn’t know him. And you were awkward. But so was he… Yet, you couldn’t even get your little brother to stop crying by making him laugh or comforting him — let alone a grown man, like Lando. 

“Please,” she insisted, and you could tell that she was serious. There was no point in arguing with her. Seeing the rest of the race with Oscar battling to keep his podium position would be enough of a feat for her poor emotions. She wouldn’t be able to walk away from it. 

You weren’t even sure if you were allowed to walk back there, but there was also no one stopping you when you did it. Your steps were the opposite to Lando’s assertive ones as you made your way to his driver’s room. You had no idea what to expect when you reached the already open door… 

… but Lando, sat on his little bench, racing suit halfway off, lazily scrolling on his phone was not it. 

“I understand that I’m most definitely not the person you would want to talk to right now, but Jasmine said that you were here alone and I just wanted to ask if you’re okay,” you rambled out way too quickly. 

It got his attention, looking up from his phone, but he didn’t say a word. He was mostly shocked to see that you were the first person to come talk to him. He had expected Jasmine, or maybe someone from the team that he wouldn’t want to talk to anyway. But not you. You had no reason to even be nice to him after how weird he’d been. 

“Uhm, so this is me asking that,” you reminded him when his silence got too much for you. 

“I’m fine,” Lando sighed, dragging his fingers through his sweaty curls, getting flashbacks of what had happened all over again.

You could tell from the look on his face that he, in fact, was not fine.   

It was toxic and harmful, that his first instinct when something like this happened was to immediately check his phone to see what people were saying about it online. But he had done it anyway. And sure enough, there were people blaming him — calling him reckless and a whiny little kid, finally getting what he deserved. There were also people calling Leclerc out, but Lando somehow couldn’t focus on it.

Because the thing he saw most of when he was scrolling through twitter was your face. Maybe that was why he was even more surprised to see that it was you standing in the doorway to his room and not someone else.  

“Do you know that we’ve gone viral?” he asked you, referring to the phone in his hand. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh under his breath. 

“No?” 

You looked confused as Lando scooted over to make space for you to sit down beside him. You didn’t have any social media, and Lando knew. He definitely hadn’t tried to look you up after your encounter earlier to see why on earth he hadn’t recognised you. It had gotten him nowhere. You had no accounts of your own and Jasmine hadn’t posted any photos of you. He had stopped himself before searching up old paddock photos. So, it wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t know about the video that was circulating around right now.

“Apparently, someone was filming when I said that I thought you had died. It’s quite a funny clip,” he clarified, tilting his phone to show you the screen. 

He watched as you looked at the clip, a gentle giggle leaving your mouth at how ridiculous it was. Your smile then turned into concern, seeing the amount of interactions the post had earned. 

“Is that not bad publicity for you?” 

“I don’t care about that,” Lando said honestly. “But I am truly sorry for saying that to you.” 

Thinking someone had died was a new low even for him, and saying it to your face was just unexplainable behaviour. Yet, he still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t recognised you. Sure, he knew that you had been sick and then… probably gotten well again? But did that change your appearance? Maybe he just hadn’t really looked at you before. 

“I can’t blame you, Lando — I probably looked dead the last time you saw me,” you laughed.

You couldn’t remember exactly when it was, sometime mid last season. Right before it got really bad, but while your condition was stable enough for you to go to races. Maybe it was Silverstone. You had a vague memory of seeing Lando on that podium. You knew that you had looked horrible either way. When you thought about it, maybe Lando had never seen you completely healthy. 

“There was something wrong with your lungs, right?” he asked, wondering if he was remembering things correctly. 

“Just the left one. I had spontaneous pneumothorax three times in a year,” you explained, earning a confused look from Lando before adding, “Collapsed lung, basically air was leaking from the lung out into my chest.” 

He raised his eyebrows as you spoke. You made it sound a lot more trivial than what he assumed it was. 

It happening one time wasn’t actually that uncommon. Apparently, lungs collapsed right, left, and centre. It was usually a quite easy fix as well, not even something that required surgery. But when it happened to you, that third time — it was obvious that the problem was much larger. There was multiple surgeries and constant checkups. There were ugly scars and never-ending breathing exercises. 

It was a lot, for anyone. Even worse for someone just about to graduate from their bachelor’s programme. Your life had fallen apart, to say the least, and it wasn’t something you gladly talked about, so making it sound trivial was your way of coping. If Lando realised that was another question. 

“And I’m sat here moping about a DNF,” he heard himself mumble before realising how insensitive that might’ve come across. “But you’re okay now?” 

“One final checkup left, practically as good as new,” you said, putting on a smile. “You do know that it’s not comparable though, right?” 

Lando didn’t understand at first, so you kept on speaking. 

“Me, having a life threatening medical condition — and you, having a bad day at work?” 

Maybe you were the one sounding insensitive now, knowing full well that his work wasn’t normal in any way, shape, or form. But that was the opposite of your intentions, so you kept on rambling to try and save yourself. 

“You’re allowed to be selfish and angry about something going wrong in your life without thinking about how other people might have it worse,” you added. “Because let’s be honest, someone is always going to be in a worse situation. That doesn’t take away from your right to feel things about what’s happening in your life.” 

What had happened with Leclerc was shitty as fuck and if you were Lando, you’d be crying, cursing everyone and their mothers that even had a slight connection to Ferrari. But you weren’t a professional race car driver. You were an emotional young woman. What you were trying to say was that Lando had a right to even be a fraction more emotional than what he was showing right now. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Lando answered simply after a moment of silence. 

He wasn’t used to people telling him he had a right to be emotional. He’d been told since he was a child by people in the industry that being a whiny little kid would get him nowhere. Maybe you had a point. Whatever he was doing now to deal with his emotions (which was ignoring them completely), obviously wasn’t working with how he was feeling inside. 

“You don’t have to say anything to me if you don’t want to, just allow yourself to feel, because even I can tell that you’re shutting yourself out and I don’t even know you.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke. Your accent reminded him of the people he grew up around. That was something he hadn’t realised before. He was starting to think that he had been completely self-absorbed all the other times he’d met you. You were almost… pretty, when you sat there next to him in ugly fluorescent lighting. Maybe it was the way you seemed to actually care that made his brain a little mushy. 

You were scared to cross a line with him by saying too much, so you decided to retreat. Standing up from the bench, creating more space between you, you took a stance in the doorway again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe in his tiny little room. 

“I should probably go back to see how Oscar is doing,” you said, signalling with your hand to the garage. 

Lando looked up at you with big eyes, nodding understandingly. You could almost visibly see how he was holding back from telling you that he was, in fact, not okay. 

You really had no business pushing him to say something to you. But, something inside of you was calling you a coward for not even giving it a try. For not even giving it a second chance, trying to make him feel better about himself. It all reminded you a little all too well of something that your mother always used to tell you. Fuck it.

“My mum taught me to always linger in doorways for a couple extra seconds before leaving someone,” you said, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the mere thought of how stupid this was. “That’s usually when people get to thinking about things they haven’t had the courage to say yet, since you never know when you’re next going to see the person.” 

You were over-explaining it, pressing your nails into the soft skin of your palms as you got nervous. You were trying to say that you always resolved to leave people feeling better than they did before you talked to them. 

Lando cracked a small smile as he watched you stumble over your words. He had now decided that you were pretty, standing in the doorway, your gaze oscillating between him and the floor. 

“I’ll ask one more time and then I’ll go — Lando, are you okay?” 

“No,” he sighed. He couldn’t hide it. “But I will be.” 

“It’s never okay after something like that happens. I keep on blaming myself for things I have no power over, but that’s got to stop at some point, right? I have to learn at some point,” he continued, voice coming across as slightly defeated. 

You recognised his mentality, Oscar usually said something similar after experiencing a setback. You still didn’t understand how he wasn’t more visibly upset, yet you now knew that he was harbouring it all inside. It made you feel better that he had actually said it out lout — that he wasn’t fine. You also felt a little bit worse, getting the feeling that his self-deprecation was far more severe than you originally thought. He blamed himself without good reason. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to say the right thing now, but for what it’s worth, I’m so impressed by you,” you admitted truthfully, hoping you weren’t showing pity. He was actually such an inspiration, such an idol. Even when he sat there, looking like he had run through hell and back, fighting his brain to not feel sorry for himself. 

“Have I done enough lingering to make my mother proud, you think?” you joked, tilting your head while you looked at him. 

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll join you out there in a minute.” 

Oscar had secured his third position and his first home race podium. Getting to see him up on that podium, covered head to toe in champagne was so special to you. Even though you were Jasmine’s friend first, you had really grown to love Oscar during their years of dating. Although, Lando never managed to make his way to the celebrations, something that lingered in the back of your mind. 

You had tried so hard to get it right, to say the right thing — to make him feel better about himself. That was more than most people did. He was used to people sucking up to him, but this was different. This was honest. You had no reason to be nice to him. You had no reason to even give him your time of day. But you did it anyway. Lando didn’t even think to say thank you before you left. He should’ve, because you were right. He didn’t know the next time he would see you, hell with your track record you might actually be dead tomorrow, and it was a shame if you didn’t know that your words had helped. 

Lando wasn’t sure how long he stayed in his room, sitting on that uncomfortable little bench. Letting his thoughts get the best of him while simultaneously trying to think of what you’d said to him. That he should feel, that he should think this through. He was just hoping that what he was feeling was healing more than it was self-destructing. 

He stopped spiralling when Oscar came back to his room to change, just next to Lando’s. He was covered in champagne, exuding pure joy of getting a home race podium. While Lando was happy for his teammate, trying his best to give him a heartfelt congratulations, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how that trophy could’ve been his. The first one of the season. 

What Lando didn’t know was that Oscar was very much aware of all of this, having learnt how to read his teammate’s expressions quite well after spending so much time together. He knew that Lando took defeat harder, or at least he showed it more clearly than Oscar ever did. He also knew that he needed someone to… turn on the faucet for him, making him feel like it was okay to spew out feelings about how the race had gone, without judging him for what he might say. 

“Did Jasmine come check on you?” Oscar asked, leaning in the doorway to Lando’s room. 

Lando would never be able to look the same way at a person standing in a doorway without thinking about what you had said about lingering, staying for a couple extra seconds. 

“No, uhm, Bunny did,” he replied, feeling himself smile for some reason. He felt odd using your nickname, as he had no idea where it originated from. Yet, it was just so you.

“What was that look?” Oscar laughed. Lando’s smile wasn’t just a normal one. Oscar could almost guess what had happened, that was just the kind of person you were. 

“She’s different from when I last met her,” Lando explained, feeling heat rise to his face as he wondered just about how transparent his emotions actually were. “Oscar, she’s trouble.” 

“This is about to be hilarious, isn’t it?” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Greater London, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t have to wait long to see you again. On a week without racing, he decided on a whim to stay in England for a couple of days longer than planned after debriefing at the MTC. It was someone’s birthday — a mechanic, an engineer — he really didn’t know, but a bunch of people from the team ended up in a pub, drinking to their hearts’ content. It was nice, but most of all, it was relaxing. It wasn’t Monaco, where everyone had their eyes on him as soon as he stepped outside. He could blend in better with the masses here. 

As could Oscar. Lando had never really seen Oscar drunk before. Apart from now. Putting him in a cab alone and sending him home wasn’t an option when the poor lad could barely stand on his own. That’s how Lando ended up in his and Jasmine’s shared flat. Even helping Oscar up the stairs had been a mission, especially since Lando wasn’t that sober either. It was alright, they were young and without responsibilities for the rest of that week at least. The team leaders didn’t even have to know…

“Bunny is in the guest room, but you can stay on the couch if you want,” he heard Jasmine say from the kitchen, getting Oscar a glass of water, as Lando had just watched her wrestle him to bed. Jasmine was a short woman, but when she set her mind to something, she could move mountains. Or, her boyfriend.

It took Lando’s inebriated brain a concerning amount of time to figure out that Bunny meant you. You were Bunny. And he liked you. Or he thought so. He liked the picture of you that he had built up in his head after your conversation in his driver’s room. 

He wasn’t sure what you were doing here. Maybe you and Jasmine had a girls’ night when Oscar was away. He didn’t actually know that much about you, even less so when his brain was compromised by alcohol. 

Lando thought he was being sneaky as he walked over to the guest room, where the door stood ajar, but the wooden floors creaked beneath his feet. He could spot your head of hair peeping out from under the sheets, shoulders covered by a papaya-coloured shirt that he assumed was originally Oscar’s. Your eyes were closed but you weren’t sleeping. 

“Lando, I can feel you staring,” you almost whispered, cracking a smile but still not opening your eyes.  

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling ashamed.  

You reached out to turn on the lamp that stood on the nightstand. Lando watched as you sat up in bed to get a better view of him, looking amused as soon as you caught his gaze. “Drunk?” 

“A little.” 

“Did you two have fun?” 

“Yeah, I’ve never seen Oscar this drunk before,” Lando said, letting out a soft laugh. He’d been like Bambi on ice getting out of the cab and up the stairs. It was certainly a bonding experience between teammates. “Jasmine had to wrestle him to bed.” 

The shirt looked huge on you, it was too big to even be Oscar’s. That was a nicer thought, for Lando. As you sat up, the sheets pooled at your waist, with a bare leg sticking out on the side. For a second, it struck him that you probably had no trousers on. 

No, nope, look at her face Lando. 

Your face was bare. If he stared long enough he would probably start counting your birthmarks and imperfections. It almost looked freshly washed. Maybe you and Jasmine had done face masks. He didn’t really know what a girls’ night entailed. 

“Your hair is shorter.” 

Lando said it out loud the moment he realised it. His drunk brain didn’t let him keep anything in. 

“It was easier to manage while I was back at the hospital,” you explained, on instinct reaching up to touch it. 

“Fuck, right, the surgery!” 

Oscar had told him about it and Lando had somehow forgotten. He could blame the alcohol for now. You only having one checkup left and being practically as good as new had been too good to be true. 

“Uh, how did it go?” 

“Simple checkup turned into an emergency surgery and two weeks in a hospital bed.” You shrugged, as if you had told him what you had eaten for dinner, not showing any signs of how awful it had truly been. “But I survived.” 

Lando nodded. “That’s good, I guess. Scary, but good that you’re good.”

How many times could he use the word ’good’ in one sentence? 

The both of you turned silent after that, unsure of what to say next. You watched him as he stood in the doorway, his feet tentatively moving as his eyes flickered around the room. You started to smile as you realised what he was doing. 

“Is this you lingering in the doorway?”

“I think so,” Lando shyly admitted. “Is it working?” 

You chuckled, still smiling all sleepily at him like what he had said was funny, or special. It made Lando’s heart hurt and his cheeks burn. 

Truth be told, you could’ve used some lingering right now. You had talked to your father and to Jasmine of course, but you still felt like you had this pressure over your chest for things you hadn’t said. 

You could’ve told him about how you’d gone alone to the hospital because you’d thought it would be quick, but ended up getting prepped and rushed into surgery before anyone you knew even had time to make it there to be with you. There had been no one there to hold your hand. 

You could’ve told him about the scar on your chest that was now worse than ever before. It was larger, more red, and way more noticeable. You’d cried trying on shirts before going to dinner with Jasmine tonight, which you hadn’t had the heart to tell her about. You’d wanted to cancel the entire thing, before sucking it up and putting on a turtleneck. 

You could’ve talked about it for ages, knowing that maybe he would listen. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not right now. Not to him. 

“I think we should both go to sleep, Lando,” you said, yawning comically loud as you turned off the light before falling back on the mattress. 

Lando didn’t push you. Instead, he chuckled and said a soft goodnight. He knew he maybe should’ve pushed you to talk. He sensed that he could’ve done it. But it also didn’t feel like the right time. Not when he was drunk. Not when you were tired. 

His eyes longed on you for a couple extra seconds, you looked adorable with the sheets practically swallowing you whole. He then walked back into the kitchen where Jasmine was standing, putting wine glasses into a display cabinet. Maybe you weren’t entirely sober either. 

He took a seat at the kitchen island, slouching over as he rested his face in his hands. Jasmine smiled at him, tilting her head to the side as if to silently ask him if something was wrong. 

“Jasmine, has she always looked like that?” Lando said, unsure of what he was even asking.

“Bunny?” Jasmine questioned, leaning her elbows on the counter, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion. 

“She looks different from when I first met her.” 

Maybe you just weren’t sick anymore. Maybe Lando had just been a right idiot the other times he’d met you and not properly cared to look at you. Maybe you had been shy and he had been self-obsessed. Maybe it didn’t matter what had happened before. 

“Well, for a start, she has two working lungs now,” she argued, a laugh slipping out under her breath as if what she said was obvious. “Got the colour back in her skin and gained some healthy weight, I think.” 

Lando hummed in response. It made sense. You did look different. That was the only sane explanation as to why you were constantly on his mind. 

“Why did you ask?” 

She looked at him for an answer, her eyes staring him down, searching for eye contact that he wasn’t able to hold. He couldn’t help but turn to the side so that she wouldn’t see how pink his face was.

“Holy shit, you like her!” 

Jasmine let out a gasp as she realised, having to contain herself to not squeal and wake the entire building. Lando had nothing to say all of a sudden, his drunkenness not showing at all.  

“You’re not even going to deny it?” 

He quickly stood up to go to the bathroom, ignoring her question and hiding his dumbstruck smile. 

“Goodnight Jasmine.” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt your hands grow sweaty against the stack of papers you held in them. The costume looked nice — almost too nice to be on your body. Beautiful, sparkly platform heels. Delicate lace and trims on the dress. The corset showed off a waist you didn’t know you had. It wasn’t you, so thank god you were acting like someone else. 

“Go on, Magenta. Say your next line,” Jasmine urged you from her spot on the bed in your childhood room. The old canopy and fairy lights that decorated your bed made her look ethereal in a way.  

There was something heartfelt, seeing your oldest friend in that room again, now a whole lot older than when the two of you would play with dolls on your floor. When you dropped out of university, you had to move back in with your dad and little brother. It hadn’t been awful, but not ideal either. 

Magenta was the character you were playing in your local theatre's production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. You’d been part of the crew at the little theatre for most of your life and now, when you had no classes to worry about and no summer job lined up for you — being part of a musical over the summer seemed like the perfect waste of time. You were going back to university in the autumn, so you felt like you had a chance to have some fun this summer. 

“…to sing and dance once more to your dark refrains. To take that step to the right...” 

Magenta was the opposite of you. She was bold, and sexy. She had a sultry voice and was dressed in a stereotypical maid costume. Showing off both legs and cleavage. It was a fun change, but a scary one too. 

“But it's the pelvic thrust… That really drives you insane?”

Jasmine couldn’t keep a straight face as she acted like your counterpart, starting to giggle like a schoolgirl, trying not to get told off by the teacher for laughing. The lines made no sense to her. 

“And our World will do The Time Warp again — Jazz, you’re not focusing!” you exclaimed, joining her laugher as you fell on the bed next to her, ruffling the huge amount of decorative pillows you had on there.   

“This was so much easier when you were doing Moulin Rouge, because then I at least understood the plot,” Jasmine scoffed as she looked over the manuscript, leaning into your shoulder as you both relaxed into the pile of pillows. 

“What do you meeean your character is a maid who is also an alien? Babe, why are they going to space?” she continued, gesticulating wildly with her hands at the pages. 

“It’s camp, Jazz. Or maybe just written by someone on acid,” you laughed. 

Rocky Horror was not the simplest of musicals to explain to someone who had never heard of it before. It was camp, and queer, and rock’n’roll. There were aliens, and virgins, and a man in golden underwear. It was a nightmare — and the most fun thing one could imagine. 

“Who have you invited for the opening night? I’m so sorry again that we can’t come,” Jasmine asked, turning over to lay on her back, staring up at the fairy lights. 

The premiere was only weeks away at this point, but you had known for awhile that Oscar and her were busy celebrating her parents wedding anniversary on the same exact date. She had kept on apologising and you had kept on telling her that is wasn’t that big of a deal. They could come on the second weekend, or the third, or any weekend during the entire summer. It didn’t matter to you.

“Don’t apologise,” you reassured her. “I haven’t invited anyone. Dad has to go with Matteo to his first ever football game.” 

Matteo was your little brother. He was the sweetest kid you knew, albeit biased. He was also the most anxious kid you knew, so you could already guess that performing well during his game would be important to him. Your father had to be there, even for your own sanity. 

“But you need someone there, cheering you on. This is a big deal!” 

It really wasn’t. You’d done it alone before. 

“Jazz, Matteo is 10. He needs dad there more than I do,” you remarked. 

“I didn’t just mean your dad. You need someone there in general, Bunny.” 

You really didn’t. You’d done a lot of things without someone holding your hand along the way. 

“Lando should be in England on that day, y’know, some MTC thing,” Jasmine hinted, her gaze catching yours. 

You thought you heard her wrong at first. She never talked about Lando casually. From what you had gathered, he and Oscar hadn’t even been that close up until the start of this season. Now, you knew that they hung out, but what did that have to do with you and your little musical? 

“Huh? That’s just absurd. He would hate it.” 

If you were allowed to be judgmental for a moment, you would assume that Lando had never seen a musical in his life. Let alone something as weird as Rocky Horror. You also didn’t understand at all why he should come watch you, on his own. That would honestly just make you feel like the joke was on you. 

“I think he likes you,” she commented plainly, as if it was clear as day and not at all something from her wildest imagination. 

She might as well have been speaking Greek. You did not understand Greek. 

“Why would he like me?” you squeaked, your eyes going wide.  

“You’re hot and funny, maybe a bit odd, but people like that. Why wouldn’t he like you?” 

“I’m sat here flipping pages of a manuscript, while he is flipping some model over in bed,” you expressed, throwing your copy of the script at her.  

Maybe that was harsh. You didn’t know Lando well enough to say something like that with confidence. But, you did know yourself well enough to say that you weren’t his type. 

“So, what? He could flip you over!”

You snorted in response, hiding your laugh. Jasmine was being ridiculous right now.  

“It’s like you lost all your confidence when you got sick,” she said, her voice suddenly softened. “Remember our trip to Malaga? That Bunny would’ve jumped on his dick without thinking twice.” 

It was crazy how she could make your trip to Malaga sound sentimental, or like an old memory of how you used to be. Malaga had been anything but orthodox. A group of teenage girls — too young to be drinking, making questionable decisions and racking up their body counts. 

“I guess I grew up, Jasmine. I also shouldn’t do something reckless with Oscar’s teammate.” You shrugged, standing up, ready to be over with this conversation and to start rehearsing again. 

“That is if he actually fancied me, which he does not,” you decided. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t know what he was doing. When he sneakily asked Oscar if he was doing something after their meetings, he had really been thinking about you. In his mind, maybe they could’ve done something the four of them, so it wouldn’t be as obvious that it was you he wanted to see again. 

But Oscar had an anniversary dinner to go to with Jasmine. And you — you were in some off off-West End musical. He really had to get to know you better, because that was not something he would have ever imagined about you. 

Not that he was imagining you doing things… 

Oscar had told him to go. Lando had questioned his entire existence. 

Yet, he still somehow ended up outside of the small theatre on a Friday night. He wasn’t even sure if he was technically still in London, that’s how remote the little community he was in felt. Going out clubbing with Max was his plan B, if this turned out to be as ridiculous as it sounded. 

The Rocky Horror Picture Show — that was what the poster outside said. Nothing but a big pair of messily painted red lips were on it. He had no idea what he was in for and Google hadn’t been much help. It looked like a mixture of the story about Frankenstein’s monster and a drag queen show. 

He was early, arriving right in the middle of the final dress rehearsal. Something that Oscar had recommended he did, to not get recognised as much and to be able to leave swiftly if he turned out to absolutely hate it. Lando wondered how much of an avid musical-goer Oscar was, or maybe he had just gone to yours. 

The theatre was small, probably not more than a hundred seats. It was classic looking, with red velvet chairs and heavy curtains lining the stage. He slid into one of the seats at the very back, looking with anticipation at the stage. The room was maybe filled to one third with what he mostly assumed were the cast’s friends and family. 

The stage was decorated with delicately handmade props. It showed a grand hall with checkered flooring, a wooden staircase at the back. Multiple odd sculptures and a wonky replica of the Mona Lisa. All under bright red lighting. 

Lando didn’t even have time to take it all in before actors entered the stage. 

“Are you having a party?” said a girl in a baby pink dress and a comically blonde wig. Her voice was so high and brittle that it was almost annoying. 

“You’ve arrived on a rather special night. It’s one of the master’s affairs,” answered a man with a fake hunchback, his long white hair making him look nothing but creepy. 

“Oh, lucky him,” said the girl again. 

That’s when he heard a voice he recognised. A voice belonging to you. Sliding down the bannister of the stairs, you whipped an old-timey feather duster around.

“You're lucky. He's lucky. I'm lucky. We're all lucky!” you practically yelled as you made your way to the girl, who looked positively terrified by you. Her looser boyfriend (Lando assumed), who stood by her side looked even more frightened. 

It had been two minutes and Lando already rooted for the weird people — meaning you and the man with the hunchback. You were in what he would call a… slutty maid costume. Except it wasn’t slutty; it was more artful. What was he even thinking? 

Your wig was large and curly, the dark red colour of it suited you well. Your makeup was dramatic, and your entire costume was covered in silver sequins and glitter. You were not the nervous, out-of-her-element girl that he had seen in Australia a couple months ago. Right now, you were acting completely like someone else. And you were damn good at it. 

Much like he imagined a musical to be, the conversation immediately turned into song. The Time Warp, he had heard of that one before. The stage flooded with an ensemble of dancers, dressed in tuxedos. The plot of this musical was still something completely alien. Maybe it barely had a plot.

Lando couldn’t decide if he loved it or hated it. He felt like maybe that was the entire point of the show. Like it was supposed to be annoying, but also so colourful and odd that you couldn’t help but be amazed by it.  

Even with so much happening on stage, all he could focus on was you. You didn’t dance or sing like someone who’d injured her lungs not that long ago. You performed like you loved it, having a hard time hiding your smile even if your character was more of a moody type. 

Lando, too, found himself smiling. He was astonished by how such a small production still could archive basically perfection. The singing, the choreography — it was like watching something prerecorded. It had to be a passion project for all of you, because he wasn’t sure small theatre productions were the most lucrative thing. 

At the end of the number, the dance ended with everyone falling to the floor. That’s when it happened, when he for the first time in the performance, heard something that didn’t sound like perfection. No, that was the sound of someone in pain. 

His eyes tried to find you in the pile of bodies on the stage. 

You’d practiced it a million times. Falling over — gracefully that is — in high heels wasn’t the easiest of tasks. But never once before had it hurt like his. A stinging pain that never ended, so you couldn’t help but scream. It gathered everyone’s attention, quickly stopping the act and flicking on the normal lights. 

A broken ankle. Your broken ankle and your yelping voice. It hurt like hell.

You could see how the people around you started to panic, talking about a first aid kit and getting a stand-in ready to take your place. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, your eyes filled up with tears, clouding your vision. 

God, you would pass out if this pain didn’t stop. 

Lando watched it all unfold from his seat. Seeing you sat in the middle of the stage, clenching your hands over your foot, tears falling down your cheeks, taking your mascara with them. 

Ironically, something started to hurt inside of Lando, and he didn’t know how to react. Could he sneak out so you wouldn’t have known he was here? No, no. He was going to see if he could be of any help. That was the only right thing to do. In seconds, he had left his seat and started to march down to the stage. 

“Lando?”

Your voice was pathetic. Your tears clogged your throat and you felt ashamed, so fucking ashamed. 

You knew that Jasmine had talked to Oscar, and that Oscar had talked to Lando. But seeing him by the edge of the stage, a worried look on his face, wasn’t something you actually thought would happen. You did not understand why he would’ve wanted to come. 

“Is your foot okay? The fall looked pretty bad,” Lando said as he crouched down in front of you, looking more at your face than at your ankle so as not to scare you more than what was already inevitable.  

“You saw me fall? Oh fuck, why are you even here?” you groaned in pain. 

You didn’t mean for it to come across as rude — you just didn’t have much of a choice over your emotions right now. It was nice that he was there, so fucking nice. 

“Oscar told me to come — I mean, I wanted to come too,” he emphasised. 

Lando didn’t exactly know how to help you now that he had waltzed up on the stage like some knight in shining armour. He looked around to see a man in his mid-thirties come forward with a bright red first aid kit. He tried not to raise his eyebrows too much at the man — dressed in his costume, looking like if Elvis Presley had been in a motorcycle gang.  

The man tried not to look too much at Lando either — having known you most of your life and never once seen you bring a boy to the theatre. 

“Darling, that’s broken,” the man said as soon as he got a view of your ankle. 

Lando could’ve said the same thing. 

“No, it’s not Eddie. Just bruised I think,” you tried to tell yourself, and Eddie.  

Eddie, whose character in the musical coincidentally was also named Eddie, was your on-sight medic, working as a nurse when he was not busy acting and singing in his studded leather vest and greaser-like hairstyle. 

Bruising meant you could suffer through it. Broken meant spending the summer in a cast and missing every single one of your performances. That’s what you got for wanting to have a fun, selfish summer for once in your life. 

“Bunny, I don’t know how to tell you this in a nicer way — but it’s broken,” Eddie persisted, rummaging through the first aid kit for something to help with the pain. 

“B-but the show…” 

You said it quietly, but Lando heard. Your voice was heartbreaking. 

It showed how much this meant to you, and he realised now that you were probably embarrassed. He drew parallels to his own life and career, and how much a clumsy mistake could leave its marks for a long time forward. Even if this was only a hobby, it was still important. 

“I can wrap it up for you, but it won’t heal unless you go to a hospital,” he continued, not waiting for an answer before he began to gently move your foot. 

You whimpered in pain, biting down on your lower lip to not scream as it shifted. Grasping for just about anything to hold on to, you found Lando’s hand. You didn’t have time to think it through, but Lando had a lifetime. 

Your nails were painted black to match your costume, and your hand felt so small and cold in his own, yet you were strong as hell as you gripped his fingers in pain. He suffered through it, knowing that what you were feeling was a million times worse. 

Eddie wrapped your ankle in a tight bandage. Lando could tell that he’d done it before. Some girl had found a bag of frozen peas in the staffroom freezer, that he then strapped over it to ease the pain. By the look on your face, it did absolutely nothing. 

“I’ll drive you to A&E,” Lando offered without thinking twice. He could see Max some other time. 

Then it was the trouble of getting you down the stage and out of the building. Eddie throwing you over his shoulder could’ve maybe worked, but you had this thing called dignity. 

So, with one arm around Lando and the other one around Eddie, you hopped your way out of there on one foot, cursing Mother Earth herself every time you accidentally touched the ground with the injured one. 

“You’re supposed to go to a UTC with broken bones,” you pointed out when you remembered it, feeling the need to correct Lando.  

“You’ve broken a bone before?” Lando asked. 

Eddie didn’t have to ask because he already knew about your history with hospitals. 

“Twice. My wrist once from falling off a trampoline, and a finger from shutting a car door on it,” you explained. 

“You’re a walking emergency, aren’t you?” Lando said, like he was joking. 

It wasn’t really a joke to you anymore, though. 

“You don’t know the half of it,” you mumbled, thinking he wouldn’t hear you. 

But he did, and it got him thinking. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you got out to the parking lot. In your periphery, you could see how Eddie’s jaw dropped. A bright orange McLaren was not what you had expected to see, but then again, you couldn’t have said what you expected instead. The man was a Formula 1 driver, for Christ's sake. 

Eddie kept his mouth shut, but the look he gave you said something along the lines of you have a lot to explain, young lady. You would have no idea how to explain how you ended up here, even if you wanted to tell him. 

“Lando…” you said to get his attention. “I don’t think I can get in this car without it hurting like hell.” 

“I borrowed it for the weekend. I didn’t think—” he stopped himself, unsure of how to continue. 

I didn’t think you would break a bone and I’d have to drive you? 

Yeah, no. He couldn’t say that. 

“I was about to tell you to just shove me in the backseat, but it doesn’t even have one,” you tried to joke, earning small smiles from both Lando and Eddie. 

Just as getting out of the building, slow and steady won the race. Only this time, you weren’t only cursing Mother Earth but Lando and Eddie too, blaming them for whenever your foot nudged something. You hoped they could take it lightheartedly because you weren’t angry or mad at them. You were angry at yourself. 

“You, young man — take care of our best performer, okay?” Eddie said to Lando as he shut the door on your side. 

You scoffed at his wording. He knew he didn’t need to take on the role as a protective older brother-like figure in your life, but you kind of liked it when he did. Lando probably met a lot of important and intimidating people with his choice of career, yet Eddie felt different. He had no actual influence, but he had a heart that cared for you. Lando couldn’t joke that away. 

“I will, sir.” 

The UTC was relatively calm for a Friday evening, so you didn’t have to wait long until you were rushed into a room to be assessed and treated. Nurse after nurse who saw your ankle said the same thing, get x-rays, evaluate, and hope it’s not surgical. 

Lando didn’t say much, only helping you explain what had happened when your pain made you unable to form coherent sentences. He stayed by your side, though. You had half-expected him to leave as soon as you got there, making up some excuse about being busy. 

But he never did. 

You even had to convince him to leave to get your bag that you had left in his car. He was unsure about leaving you alone the first couple of times you mentioned it. 

But you wanted to get your makeup off, and fix your hair which had been left a mess after you’d taken the wig off. You’d thought about that part, but the maid’s costume was still on your body. At least the nurses got a good laugh out of it — a barefoot, glittery maid with makeup smeared all over her face and a packet of peas strapped to her ankle. 

When you were rolled off to get x-rays taken, Lando finally agreed to go outside and get it. It wasn’t like he was allowed to go with you anyway. 

“Thank you,” you said as he handed you the bag. “The x-rays will take a while, but the doctor said it is most likely a simple fracture and I will only need a cast.” 

You immediately took out a makeup wipe and a comb. The braids you had on under the wig were starting to feel very stiff, giving you a headache. Or maybe you were just tense because of all the other pain you were feeling. 

“That’s good.” He nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Did they give you anything for the pain?” 

You giggled a little, rolling your eyes, overplaying how loopy you were. “Can you already tell?” 

“Just a little.” He pinched his fingers, showing just how little. “Do you want help with that?” 

“You don’t have to—” you tried to tell him, but his hands had already undone one of the hair ties, his fingers moving gently to separate the braided hair. 

He scooted behind you to reach better as you continued to take off the makeup, the wipe quickly turning a messy mixture of red and black with how much product was actually on your face. Stage makeup was no joke. His fingers through your hair sent shivers down your spine, but you tried not to think too much about it. He was just being nice. That’s all he’d been the entire evening. 

“You probably have better things to do on a Friday night,” you mumbled. 

Lando shook his head, and then he figured you couldn’t see it as he sat behind you. 

“I called Oscar when I went out. He said he would tell your parents.” 

“Parent. My mother’s not alive,” you whispered. “But that’s good, I guess. Did Oscar say anything else?” 

You didn’t give Lando any time to think or ask about what you had said. That was on purpose. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway, with every possible sentence coming to mind feeling insensitive or way too pitiful. 

“No, not really,” Lando replied. 

That Oscar had made fun of him, for getting to play a knight in shining armour as you were a damsel in distress, was something he opted out of telling you. 

“He didn’t say that this was typical of me?” you muttered, rubbing your face in obvious distress. 

Lando was done undoing the braids so he could move to see your face again, seeing it streaky and glittery from you having wiped off the makeup without a mirror at hand. He reached for a clean wipe, his eyes silently asking you if it was okay if he helped. 

“I just… I can’t fucking believe it.” You exhaled from your nose as he wiped your undereyes clean from glitter.  

“It’s always like this,” you continued, showing frustration. “Whenever I’m about to accomplish something in life, I always get injured.”

“I don’t believe that—” 

You cut him off by explaining, “Well, I fucked up my lungs right as I was about to graduate.” 

“You didn’t fuck them up. Things like that just happen,” Lando interjected. 

“I lost my voice on the second show the last time I did a musical. Had to give up a leading role for one that was just dancing, no singing,” you counter-argued, proving that it wasn’t just some one-time thing. 

Lando looked at you, waiting to see if you could come up with more examples before he told you that it wasn’t fate that got you injured. They were coincidences. 

“My wrist was broken when I took my A-level exams, that was hell on earth,” you said, raising a finger of conviction. “Oh, and I had appendicitis on my 18th birthday. Jasmine still hates me for that one because I ruined a girl’s trip.” 

“Is there more?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows. 

You snorted out a laugh as another one came to mind. “I got a nosebleed when I lost my virginity. It didn’t stop bleeding for like three hours.” 

Lando pursed his lips to not laugh, but he couldn’t keep it in for long. “I’m sorry for laughing, but the picture in my head is really funny.” 

In hindsight, it was quite funny. At the time, however, it was the most embarrassing moment of your life. 

“I was going to say that probably everyone experiences these sort of setbacks, but… I don’t know anymore,” he tried to comfort. 

“I think I might just be cursed, Lando,” you huffed, locking eyes with him again.  

You both went quiet for a couple seconds as he took in your expression. A gaze so hollow, it didn’t matter that you were trying to hide it with a smile. The smile was blacked out anyway. 

He didn’t understand how you could talk to him and reassure him without making it sound like you were second-guessing things, or ever feeling unsure of what your words meant — but as soon as the subject was switched to regard yourself, you were suddenly cold. Or not really cold at all, but just not as warm as you were when you talked about other people. 

Your staring contest was interrupted by a young boy saying your name. A man came shortly after him into the small hospital room. Lando assumed it was your father and little brother, as he stood up from the bed to introduce himself. And to make some space between the two of you, since you were sitting suspiciously close together.  

The boy got shy as soon as he saw Lando. He looked a lot like you, with the same coloured hair and the same big doe eyes, only he was clad in a green football kit. Your father was wearing a matching one to show support. 

“Hi Matteo,” you called out as your brother walked past Lando to immediately get to you. He was like that — shy with people he didn’t know and anxious to talk to them. So you saved him, by talking to him as you saw Lando shake your father’s hand. That wasn’t awkward at all. 

“How did the game go?” you asked, ruffling his sweaty hair as you invited him to sit next to you on the bed. 

Matteo started talking, all excited about how they’d won and that he had gotten an assist. Pretty solid for a first game, he thought. You were mostly glad that he had a good time and that he seemed to get along well with the other boys on the team. He didn’t have it easy making friends because of his shyness. 

Lando overheard the conversation, taking notice of how you had asked him how it went and not if he had won. It was those little things that made you different, made the way you talked to people so much more worth it. You were so fucking lovely, and you seemed to have no idea about it.

Your father had recognised him, but Lando couldn’t tell if that was only because of Oscar or if he cared about racing. 

With your family there, Lando started to feel excessive. He couldn’t exactly argue his case for wanting to stay right there in front of you, and your father. He guessed it wasn’t too late to still catch up with Max, but a part of him almost didn’t want to do it. 

No, he had to leave. He couldn’t explain his reason out loud. 

As he said his goodbye, he met your eyes from his position in the doorway. He didn’t have much to say to you, or maybe he had so much to say that his brain couldn’t find what was most important. His shoes almost felt sticky against the sterile hospital flooring, something glueing him to the spot. 

“Will I see you at Silverstone?” Lando decided to ask before leaving. 

“Uh… maybe? I’ll have to talk to Oscar,” you said unsure, still sat in the bed with your arm around Matteo.  

“Can I come this time?” he whispered, looking up at you. 

You were shocked by his question. He’d never asked to come before. But it wasn’t really up to you if he could or not. It was always someone else getting you race passes, so you were in no position to be greedy. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort you out,” Lando hurried to say, seeing the uncertainty on your face.  

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you… for everything.” 

For showing up, for driving you, for staying. He’d done so much that he didn’t need to do. Maybe Jasmine was correct. Maybe he didn’t just see you as her friend that he had to be civil to. Or maybe, he’d been dealt really bad cards tonight and had no option but to comply. Otherwise, he would be seen as a complete dickhead. 

Lando nodded, pursing his lips into a smile, staying in the doorway for a moment too long, before finally walking away. You didn’t notice him doing it, but someone else certainly did. 

“Bunny…” your father said. 

“Mm?” you mumbled, perking up your ears.  

“Did that boy just linger in the doorway?” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Silverstone, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Are you avoiding me?” 

Lando’s voice shocked you as he came up from behind. You’d seen him around during the day but kept your distance. You were technically his guest today, only ever having been invited by Oscar before. But you would be lying if you said that premise had made you more liberal with how you interacted with Lando. You stayed with Oscar and Jasmine, and your father and Matteo, because that was what you knew. 

The paddock at Silverstone was a lot, even for you who had been to this rodeo before. Matteo and your dad, however, would fall asleep quickly tonight with how many new impressions they’d received today. You’d only managed to come on the Sunday, with you on crutches and Matteo being, well… Matteo. It was good enough of an experience anyway. 

“No, there’s just a lot of people here to see you. I didn’t want to be a bother,” you explained, nervously laughing.  

It was jam-packed with friends and family, sponsors, and celebrities. Every time he had a moment for himself, it could quickly turn into a meet-and-greet if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Now, minutes before he had to make his way to the starting grid, it was finally sort of calm in the garage. You were standing in the viewing section, a papaya-coloured headset around your neck. 

Lando shook his head and sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

You could not be a bother, even if you tried. 

“So, it wasn’t a make-a-wish thing after you saw me fall on my face and break my ankle?” 

“Would I’ve been your wish?” he asked, voice affected by laughter.

“No, sorry, I’d pick a broadway show over this any day,” you responded jokingly. 

“How’s your ankle anyway?” 

The cast and the crutches you were leaning on didn’t look too dramatic. It just looked like you had broken your ankle and were now dealing with it to the best of your ability. 

“It’s healing just fine,” you nodded, leaning to rest on one crutch to show Lando your palm. “The worst thing right now is the heat and the crutches giving me callouses.” 

As you reached out your hand, Lando couldn’t help but gently grab your fingers to take a closer look. He was practically holding your hand. Sure, you held his when Eddie was wrapping your foot, but you were in an immense amount of pain at the time. This was something different. The callouses weren’t even that bad. 

Why was he holding your hand? 

In the same moment you could overthink it, he let go.

“Have you been hopping around the paddock all day? You should’ve told me, I could’ve gotten you a golf cart or something,” Lando wondered, feeling kind of bad. 

He hadn’t thought about your broken ankle when he’d asked you to come. 

“It’s alright. Matteo’s been having a blast all day, so… thank you,” you shrugged. 

You could deal with being uncomfortable for a day if it meant that Matteo got a once-in-a-lifetime experience. 

His McLaren cap was signed, and he had ice cream in his belly. He’d even gotten a wave from Sir Lewis Hamilton himself, and if that wasn’t enough to make him school ground royalty for at least a week, you didn’t know what was. Maybe you took your big sister duty too seriously, but literally nothing could make you stop caring for that kid.  

“And your dad?” Lando asked. 

You looked over your shoulder to see what he was doing. With Matteo in front of him, practically hiding into his side, you could see him talking to someone and smiling. You understood that he was mostly doing this for you and Matteo, but there was some underlying fascination that middle-aged men had with fast cars that you knew he was trying to hide. 

“He appears to be smiling, that’s always positive.” 

“He’s talking to my dad,” he revealed. That wasn’t awkward at all. 

Lando hesitated, unsure of asking you what was on his mind, but soon enough, words were falling out of his mouth anyway. You seemed to have that effect on him. 

“I need to get ready, but can I see you afterwards? Maybe you can come back like you did in Melbourne.” 

You smiled, agreeing before adding, “I’ll watch you get on the podium first.” 

The race started with both Lando and Oscar in good positions, which probably led to a false sense of security. Your gut feeling was unsure of it all. 

Matteo held on to your hand during the entire start, you could tell that it was mixed emotions of excitement and anxiety. His headset was big on his little head, and he looked positively adorable as he tried to understand what was going on. 

“Lando is third right now,” you explained to him, pointing to a monitor. “And Oscar is fifth, you remember them, right?” 

Matteo nodded. “Lando broke your foot, and Oscar talks funny.” 

“I broke my own foot, but you’re right about Oscar,” you laughed. 

It was you that had to hold onto Matteo for a moment during the race when it really looked like both Oscar and Lando had a chance at winning. But after some godawful strategic calls, you realised that the podium wasn’t as secure as you thought. Hamilton was steady in the lead, and Verstappen was chasing Lando like there was no tomorrow.

You were so focused on the leaders that you didn’t even realise what was happening at the bottom of the grid. Pictures of two cars making contact flashed over the screens, and Matteo tensed up beside you. 

“What happened?” he worriedly asked, clinging to your arm. “Did they get hurt?” 

“No, no, it was just a little love tap,” you reassured him. They probably didn’t even have any damage — that was how minimal it was. “Like when I reversed into grandma’s postbox.”

“That was you?” your dad laughed. 

“Be quiet, I’m trying to watch the race,” you hushed him, eyes back on the leaderboard. 

Verstappen ended up catching Lando. P3 was the bittersweet consolation prize that Lando would have to act like he was happy about. Parade around the podium, covered in champagne, as if he wasn’t completely gutted inside. You could see on his face that he was acting happy as they celebrated. He wasn’t that good of an actor, if you were to be honest. 

If only they had put on different tyres for his last stint. 

Afterwards, you made your way back to his driver’s room — just as he’d asked. You could have overthought that question a million times, but you decided to just go for it. It was crowded with people, both staff and guests, rushing to congratulate him. Or maybe to comfort him. Your guess would be on the latter. 

At last, the hallway cleared, and you hopped to stand in the doorway, finally seeing him.

“P3, baby!” you joked cheerfully. 

Lando stared at you blankly, shaking his head as he snorted out a laugh. 

“Yeah, no, that was frustrating to watch. I can’t even imagine how you feel.” 

He had no words. Already having had to put on such a fake façade to everyone else he had met after the race. He didn’t want to do that to you. So, he ended up speechless.

“Should I leave you alone?” you whispered, breaking the silence. 

“No!” he hurried to say. “Uhm… please, sit.” 

With some struggle, you managed to sit next to him on the bench in his room. Much like Melbourne. It was, however, a lot more difficult to move in the little room while on crutches. 

He sighed as you sat down, helping you rest the crutches against the wall so they wouldn’t fall to the floor. His racing suit was halfway off and filled the room with a scent of champagne. You tried to look him in the eye, but ended up focusing on how his helmet had left red imprints on his cheeks — like a gorgeous mark of endurance. 

“I just… I don’t know what to say, or what to feel. It’s always so fucking close, and then I lose it.” Lando’s voice was stern and measured, his face blank. 

It was a forced expression, though. He could cry if his tear ducks would’ve allowed him to. Some mental barrier stopped him from doing it. He almost wanted to do it so that you would see his true emotions. 

Your heart broke a little, seeing him be so harsh on himself. Because, with your mentality, he had just done something miraculous. He’d done something mere mortals couldn’t accomplish. 

“I’m impressed you get out of that car alive every weekend, so I might be the wrong person to complain to,” you softly told him. 

Lando had heard those sorts of words before, how he was superhuman for even getting in the car. He’d felt the same way when he started, and maybe he’d lost that initial spark he used to have. 

Your words didn’t mean that you didn’t want him to complain. He should vent, to the people that it mattered to. Get it out of his system, so that he could be sensible in front of the media. 

It was funny how the sport worked that way. That he was somehow less happy in third, than Sargeant was in eleventh. That the people on the second and third steps of the podium were the biggest losers. And, they were expected to be robotic about it, otherwise, they would be deemed erratic and emotional. 

What was the crime in being emotional anyway? 

“I think you drove a perfect race,” you complimented him. “And then I think there were some strategic… mishaps that you’re not to blame for. Overall, this race was like the coolest one I’ve ever witnessed, and Oscar didn’t even get a podium. He’s my favourite driver!” 

You tried so hard to get him to laugh again, but he wouldn’t budge. He had to tell himself not to. It actually kind of annoyed him that Oscar was your favourite. He knew he didn’t know you well enough to be your favourite, yet. 

“I don’t get how you’re not proud of yourself,” you finally sighed, gesticulating with your hands as you spoke. “You have every right to be proud, annoyingly so.” 

Lando knew he had to let his guard down. That was the only way he would feel better about this. This wasn’t like Australia, when it hadn’t been his fault for the bad result. He’d still blamed himself, but let it go after a couple of hours. This time, a good result was somehow his fault. It was insane, the mental game he was playing with himself. And he couldn’t let this go without talking it through. 

“I’ll be that later, I just need to feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours first,” he scoffed.  

It was Silverstone, after all. He’d gotten a podium on home soil. That was an accomplishment to be proud of. Last year, he was over the moon over his Silverstone race, but maybe that was because the car hadn’t been that great. This time he had a great car, but was somehow a worse driver. It didn’t make any sense to him. 

His spiralling thoughts were stopped when he heard his phone continuously vibrate from the other side of the room, somewhere hidden under a pile of clothes. 

“Are people blowing up your phone with congratulations?” you asked amusingly. 

“No, it’s the PR team,” he said as he looked over his notifications, a confused look on his face. “We’ve gone viral again. It looks like I held your hand when you showed me the callouses from the crutches.” 

You did technically hold my hand, was what you wanted to say. You decided that staying quiet felt better. 

Lando regretted his wording as soon as he said it. He held your hand in a garage filled with cameras. He knew that. He was to blame for that. But was any harm done? 

“I don’t get how it’s always with you that it happens,” he mumbled nervously. 

He sat back down beside you, giving you a view of his phone screen. The photos were cute, if you were to be honest. But also blurry and obviously taken by someone who wanted to be sneaky. 

“Always? Meaning once before?” you questioned. 

That showed how little you were on social media. You didn’t know about anything other than the video from Melbourne. 

“No, there were also photos of me at the hospital when you broke your ankle,” Lando explained. 

The photos had been everywhere. He, and that orange car, at a hospital parking lot on a Friday evening. It was quite the headline for news outlets and gossip accounts. 

“Oh…” you said, visibly surprised. “I’m so sorry if it caused you problems to be seen with a girl in a slutty maid costume.”

For a second there, Lando could watch you go through the five stages of grief, all through your facial expressions. 

“You weren’t in the photos. It was just me and that… obnoxious car when I went back to get your bag,” he quickly added, calming your nerves. 

You nodded understandingly, feeling yourself get less tense. “Did you have to explain it to anyone?” 

“Thankfully not, I’m such a bad liar.” 

What would he need to lie about? 

Then you realised that someone like him probably couldn't just say that they drove a friend who had injured themselves. That would only lead to a million more questions. And, if he had said something — people would’ve been able to put two and two together as you showed up to the paddock with a cast and crutches. Maybe he was protecting you. 

You didn’t know what else to say to him now, meeting his bright eyes once again. They had this way of shining, even though he was sad. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but you were starting to wonder if you’d overstayed your welcome. 

Then Lando spoke again, his voice in a happier tone. “Has Jasmine mentioned Italy to you?” 

“Monza?”

“No, now before Hungary,” he replied. “Oscar and I have to represent McLaren at some charity auction, and I thought about inviting you as my plus one so that Jasmine doesn’t have to be alone if we have to work a lot.” 

The invitation was carefully phrased, and you recognised that. If you had been more sure about Jasmine’s ridiculous idea that Lando liked you, you would’ve made fun of him for dragging in Jasmine in his way of asking you to come with him. 

“Oh,” you mused. “I’d be a fool to say no, but there has to be other people that you’d rather go with.” 

Lando looked at you in confusion. 

“Like, don’t invite me just to do Jasmine a favour,” you continued.  

He finally broke into a smile, not being able to contain it anymore. You were clueless, and Lando found that hilarious. “It’s not like I hate your company, y’know?”

You chuckled. You hadn’t expected him to say something so direct. 

“Can I talk to Jazz about it first, before I decide?” 

Lando nodded softly. “Sure, I mean, the invite is yours anyway. If you don’t want to come, I’ll just go alone.”

You turned quiet again, looking him in the eyes as you took in what he’d said. The invitation was yours. He hadn’t ever thought of bringing someone else. Maybe he truly was doing Jasmine a favour. Maybe this was him sneakily making a move. He’d have to be a lot more upfront for you to catch on, though. 

A tension settled over the room, an eternity passing without anyone saying anything. The mood switched, and you both could tell. It was probably time for you to leave, yet the expectation to say that last little thing was there. The little thing that would leave him feeling better about himself. You wanted to linger in the doorway, or linger on the bench, you guessed. You wanted to say so much more. 

Oscar intruded by softly knocking on the already open door. 

“Oscar, hi!” you squeaked out of surprise, straightening your back to make space between you and Lando. 

“Your dad’s looking for you,” he explained, chuckling. 

“I guess I better go,” you said, standing up, finding balance with the help of your crutches. “You both should be proud of yourselves today, or every day for that matter.” 

Lando looked down at the floor as you left. He knew that whatever face Oscar put on or whatever sentence he formed, it would accuse Lando of being down bad for you. 

“Did you invite her to Italy?” 

“Yeah, she said she’ll talk to Jazz about it,” Lando mumbled, hiding his smile. 

You hadn’t immediately said yes, but that was almost his plan by dragging Jasmine into it. She wasn’t even supposed to come with them to Italy at first. But Lando wanted the four of them to do it together. It was a foolproof plan to get to spend some more time with you that wasn’t in a paddock nor in a hospital. 

“On another note,” Oscar said while he remembered it. “How the hell did you get her dad to come to a race?” 

“I don’t know… I just sent Bunny three passes?”  

“I’ve invited him to races since I was in F3 and he’s never once shown up,” Oscar began explaining. 

Lando scrunched his nose, unsure of where Oscar was going with his reasoning.  

“He’s a good man, funny even — but he does not like racing, at all,” he continued. 

Was Lando being stupid for not getting Oscar’s point? Lando couldn’t tell if he was being stupid. He probably was. 

Then, it finally clicked for Oscar. “You don’t know how her mum died, do you?” 

Lando could do nothing but slowly shake his head, his mouth slightly open out of confusion. He could tell that Oscar hesitated to tell him. Maybe he shouldn’t be telling your story, but he trusted Lando. 

“Alone, in a car crash. She died on impact. Bunny was 15 or so when it happened,” Oscar said gently, his face showing pity with a downturned smile. “Her dad has always told her not to come to races, in case someone crashes and it brings up bad memories for her.” 

Now, Lando was definitely being stupid, because it still didn’t click for him. It made him understand your mentality more — that you’d said you were impressed he got out of that car alive every weekend. Because you had, close up, lived through someone not making it out of a car — a car going nowhere near as fast. But what did that have to do with your father attending a race? 

“I think Bunny must’ve convinced him to come see you, specifically,” Oscar finally said. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lombardia, Italia

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” you sighed, looking from the balcony out to the beautiful garden. 

Fruit trees, pink oleander, and pungent lavender. Beautiful limestone houses. It looked picturesque, like something out of a movie. Yet, you were unsure if you belonged there. 

“You’re spending the weekend in an Italian villa. That is what you’re doing,” Jasmine insisted, wrapping her arm around your shoulder. 

The house was gorgeous. The area was gorgeous. Everything was just perfect. And you felt undeserving of it. You’d gotten to take off your cast just in time for the trip. This was your moment to be selfish this summer. 

So, why the hell did you keep on questioning yourself?

“You’d have no stories to tell from this summer if it wasn’t for this trip. You need things to talk about when you go back to university, otherwise, you’ll make no new friends,” she then pointed out.

You hadn’t even thought of that. All your other friends had graduated. You still had six months of classes left because of your stupid lungs. You didn’t want to make new friends. You wanted to keep your old ones. 

You crossed your arms, looking up at your best friend with a pout. “I’ll let you know that me and Jane Austen have had a riveting summer thus far in my dad’s hammock.”

Doing just about anything with a broken ankle was impossible, so reading in the garden it was. 

“While you travel the world and go to races, I will always entertain you with hilarious Goodreads reviews,” you added. 

Jasmine shook her head disapprovingly. “I really don’t need to know even more nasty things that you would do to Mr. Darcy.”

Deep down, you knew she got a giggle out of getting a notification on her phone with a five star review only saying Mr. Darcy could raw me and nothing more. 

“Isn’t this going to be awkward though? It’s like we’re double dating all weekend!” 

“Would that be so bad?” Jasmine laughed, thinking that it was probably Lando’s plan all along. 

You realised quite quickly that Lando hadn’t lied about them having to work. During the day, they were off to the manor house that was hosting the auction, doing lord knows what. It was something about cars being auctioned off and sucking up to millionaires. 

You didn’t understand why this type of event even existed. It felt like the 2011 classic Monte Carlo with Selena Gomez. That was at least your only experience with auctions for rich people. 

While this one was for charity, it still only felt like a way for these millionaires to seem humble. They would’ve bought the cars anyway, it was only for their own conscience that the charities even mattered. Maybe you were being harsh. 

You and Jasmine at least got to spend some quality time with each other in the villa. You ate a long breakfast, cycled down to the city centre to try odd flavours of gelato, and went into cute little boutiques to find her a pair of heels to wear with her gown for the auction. 

Your dress was black, and so were your heels. That was how fun you were going to be. 

Truth be told, it was a prom dress that you hadn’t gotten to wear because of covid, so maybe you were a little excited to get all dolled up tomorrow night. 

When the boys got home for the day, they decided you all should take the bikes to a nearby lake. You didn’t have much of a say, packing a basket with antipasti for dinner. It was unbearably hot even though the sun had started to settle, so maybe going for a swim wasn’t the worst thing. 

As the four of you swooshed down Italian country roads on rusty borrowed bikes, Lando and you ended up in front of Jasmine and Oscar, going much faster than they did. Everything wasn’t a race, but some things definitely were. 

Oscar cycled closer to his girlfriend, asking her a question he’d been dying to ask all day. “Do we tell them something about how they are both madly infatuated with each other or will they figure it out on their own?” 

“I tried to tell Bunny, but she wouldn’t believe me. It’s like she doesn’t understand that people still find her attractive after she got sick,” Jasmine said. 

She didn’t know if she should sigh or laugh at your behaviour recently. She understood that your life had changed completely, but falling in love, or even just dating, shouldn’t be something to be scared about. Not when you had a boy acting like a fool right in front of your eyes. 

“So, we let Lando try and awkwardly flirt with her by himself? And watch Bunny be clueless about it?” Oscar laughed

“He has to be upfront at some point, right?” she responded. 

They probably wouldn’t have to wait long until Lando would scream in your face that he liked you. He had no filter left when it came to you. 

The lake was small, surrounded by a pebble beach. The water looked almost artificially teal, like natural sources of water tended to do. You’d never been to Italy before, but it was quickly becoming one of your favourite destinations. It was idyllic in ways you couldn’t have dreamt of. 

You threw the bikes in the grass and put out your beach towels close to the water. Feeling the pebbles under your bare feet and the sweet smell of sunscreen, you and Jasmine started to pack up your picnic basket.

There were almost no other people there, only seeing a family with children taking an evening swim on the other side of the lake. 

After eating a little, the boys tested the water, groaning about how cold it was, yet somehow getting in anyway. You still didn’t know what they had done during the day, but with their lifestyles, you guessed they always needed to find ways to relax. 

Jasmine rested on her towel with her nose in a book, recognising it as one you had rated highly on Goodreads. See, you knew she loved your reviews. She mumbled something about how the protagonist reminded her of you when you asked her if she was enjoying it. You took that as a good sign. 

You went down to the waterside, only dipping your toes in before deciding that it was way too cold for you to want to swim in it. Instead, you crouched down to look at the rocks, all round and polished from the water, in pretty green and coral shades. You’d already gotten Matteo a local football shirt as a souvenir, but you could definitely fit some cool rocks in your suitcase as well. 

Lando, zoning out from whatever Oscar was talking about next to him in the still water, tried to secretly keep his eye on you. He could catch a glimpse of a bright red bikini underneath the long, sheer white shirt you had on. His fondness had grown so large that even watching you pick pebbles warmed his heart. Or maybe that was the bikini’s doing. 

Jasmine could watch it all happen through the darkness of her sunglasses, having lost focus from her book. She furrowed her brows with concern. “Bunny, aren’t you warm?” 

Your hand subconsciously traced the edge of the your shirt collar, a faint smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, but I’ll scare the children away if I show the scar on my chest,” you replied, your tone light yet tinged with an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“It’s not that bad,” she said, promising, her eyes meeting yours as she tipped down her shades. 

You laughed a little in disbelief. “You haven’t seen it since they reopened it.” You were talking so loud that the boys in the water definitely could hear you. “I also hate touching it, so I don’t want to put sunscreen on.” 

Jasmine remembered the first time she saw your scar, a jagged reminder of the surgery that had saved your life. A long red line, right on your sternum, that had faded over time. But she hadn’t seen the new scar, the one left by the recent, unexpected procedure. 

“Don’t be such a wimp,” Jasmine urged, getting up from the towel, a bottle of sunscreen in her hand. “Get your shirt off and I’ll do it.” 

She knew you well enough to push you to do it. You would never get over this mental hurdle without people telling you that you looked fine. People had scars. That was the way life worked. 

You sighed, slowly fumbling with the shirt buttons as you tried to decipher Jasmine’s reaction. “See? It’s awful.” 

She shook her head, trying to keep a neutral face. It was worse than she thought, but she could never tell you that, because it hurt more than it helped. And it wasn’t like the scar tainted your entire being. You were still a gorgeous woman, in Baywatch-esque red bikini. That was an unstoppable combo.  

“It’s really not bad. It needs some more time to fade, that’s all,” Jasmine reassured you, having no problem with touching the uneven skin to apply sunscreen. 

You didn’t want to look at her hand as she did it, so you looked out over the lake, catching Lando’s surprisingly… odd gaze as he stood in the water next to Oscar. 

You hadn’t wanted to stare too much at him earlier, knowing that your head would get messed up if you saw him shirtless in swim shorts. But now, you couldn’t disregard the look on his face. 

“Lando, I saw that look. Just tell me that it’s bad,” you said, clearly still frustrated over the entire thing. 

Lando was shocked you were talking to him, struggling to find the words. 

“He’s staring at your tits, it’s totally different,” Oscar suddenly said, having kept quiet for too long. 

You almost didn’t know if you had heard him correctly, but Jasmine’s ringing laughter told you that it was true. Lando sternly said Oscar’s name before drenching him in water, a playful fight breaking out between the two of them, overshadowing what had just happened. 

That didn’t mean it left your mind, though. 

It was dark by the time you got back to the villa, stars hanging above you in the night sky. You knew it was the same sky as you had home in England, yet there was something much more magical about it this time. 

Jasmine and Oscar went to bed, but you had a few things to prepare for the auction. You wanted to paint your nails and do a face mask; maybe even get in an everything-shower to save time tomorrow. 

The night was still warm as you made your way out to the balcony in your nightgown, deciding that you might as well take advantage of the view while you painted your nails. The balcony felt like a secluded little sanctuary, bathed in a soft glow from the outdoor lighting and wafting in the breeze of the Italian countryside.  

Behind you, the glass door slid open with a soft creak, and you turned to see Lando stepping out onto the balcony, carrying what looked like a cup of tea. You’d thought he was asleep, the villa eerily quiet. 

He had an easy confidence about him — something you admired. Clad in a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, the kind that looked threadbare and like the most comfortable fabric ever. His eyes silently asked you if it was okay for him to join you, and you nodded. He sat down across from you at the outdoor dining table. 

“Orange?” Lando asked softly, seeing the colour of the nail polish. 

“I thought it was papaya,” you joked, biting your tongue to not get it on your cuticles as you continued to paint. “I bought it for Silverstone but forgot to wear it.” 

Lando didn’t care. At least he told himself that he didn’t. You were just representing his team by carefully painting your nails orange. There was no need to get all mushy inside because of it. It wasn’t like it was permanent. Only a week or so of you thinking of him every time you saw your own hands. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe you didn’t think of him. 

“I should’ve told you earlier, but you look great today,” he said like it was nothing, raising his cup to take a sip. 

He could tell that you were slightly baffled, a line forming between your eyebrows as you scrunched your nose in disbelief. “Scar and all?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Oscar had maybe been right about what Lando was looking at when you had asked him about the scar. They had overheard the entire conversation you had with Jasmine, so when he caught a glimpse of the scar, he had imagined something much worse. It truly wasn’t that bad. It at least didn’t steal his attention when you were standing in front of him in a bikini. 

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence filled only by the sounds of the night. Cicadas, a distant car, and birds chirping. Lights from neighbouring houses twinkled like scattered diamonds. 

“I don’t know if you wanted me to know, but Oscar told me about your mother,” Lando’s voice trembled, confessing it to you. His eyes searched your face for a reaction, a mixture of concern and vulnerability painted across his features.

You stared down at your painted nails, adding one last stroke before closing the bottle of polish. You were scared to look at him, unsure of how this conversation would play out. 

“It’s not really a secret, just a hard thing to tell people,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You somehow felt the warmth from Lando’s body even though there was a table’s length between you. His presence wasn’t uncomfortable to you, but the conversation certainly was. 

“Don’t pity me like I’m some motherless child. It’s really not that bad,” you continued, trying to keep your composure, the familiar ache in your chest making it hard to breathe. 

In moments like these, it was like you could feel your scar glowing, how the tight skin wanted to rip right open to help you take full breaths. 

A flicker of frustration crossed Lando’s face. 

He hated how you had said it — how you tried to downplay everything that had happened in your life. He understood that it was your way of coping, but your entire being basically screamed for the emotions to be let out. You were hypocritical, and he was tired. 

“It’s allowed to be bad. You were the one that told me that in Australia. You’re allowed to feel bad about things that are shit,” he insisted, his voice carrying a firmness that contrasted with the tenderness in his eyes.

His raw honesty sliced through your defenses. Your view of him blurred as tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Clearing your throat, you calmed yourself down. 

Lando wasn’t actually frustrated with you. It was more at the circumstances. He didn’t want to push you, and you didn’t want to upset him. It was just a very difficult conversation to have. 

“Do you ever have nightmares about crashing?” you asked, whispering. 

“No, not really,” he admitted.

If he was thinking about what might go wrong all the time, he wouldn't be able to continue driving. Racing showed some people horrible fates of life. The abundant success that could be archived was harvested by others.

It was all about finding a balance, about showing respect for the thing they put themselves through, but also overcoming it by showing no fear. 

Maybe it was different for you, Lando thought. Maybe you had already given in to the fear, because you’d get no success out of it no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t get your mum back anyway.  

You took a deep breath before confessing. “I do. All the time.” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The early morning sun filtered through his bedroom windows as Lando got out of bed. He’d slept like a king. The countryside was so quiet compared to Monaco and the cities he raced in. He stretched as he drew back the curtains, getting a view of the garden, and you. 

The conversation you had yesterday had left the both of you unsatisfied. Yet, neither wanted to push the other to really get to the bottom of the problem, 

This morning, however, you were waltzing through the garden on bare feet, a big bowl in one hand and a small ladder in the other one. The summer dress you were wearing blew with the breeze. You looked free. And slightly out of your mind, climbing a ladder to reach the fruit trees, without anyone keeping an eye on you.

Not that you needed supervision, but climbing a ladder could be dangerous. That was what Lando told himself as he rushed outside. 

“Oh god, please don’t fall down,” he said, voice laced with concern as he almost ran through the garden to get to you, keeping his steady hands on the ladder. 

You glanced down at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “It’s a stepladder, Lando. I’m one metre above the ground,” you reassured him.  

“Still, you should be careful,” he insisted.  

“I’ll break your nose if you look up my dress,” you warned. You weren’t serious, but Lando felt his cheeks flush anyway. “Do you want one?” you asked, referring to the fruit you were picking. 

“What is it even?”  

“I thought peaches at first, but they’re not hairy. Not small enough to be apricots but maybe hard enough to be nectarines, so that would be my guess.” 

You examined the fruit as you stepped down from the ladder, tossing one in the air before catching it again and placing it in the bowl. 

“Are you sure you’re still talking about fruit?”  

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at the innuendo. 

You picked up a nectarine and took a bite, the sweet juice dribbling down your chin. “I made breakfast, but I assume you’re on the same diet as Oscar?” you asked, voice muffled by the mouthful of fruit.

Lando stared at you in awe, taking way too long before nodding. 

“Well then, I guess you can watch me eat while you stick to oatmeal,” you replied playfully. 

As the sun rose above the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the cosy balcony, you and Lando sat by the outdoor furniture, eating your breakfast. The air filled with a scent of fresh coffee and the sweet nectarines. You ate them with yoghurt and honey, and Lando was totally jealous. 

You didn’t say much to each other. It wasn’t really necessary. The world around you started to wake up, but on that little balcony, it felt like time had slowed down just for you two. 

Lando turned to you, curiosity in his eyes. “Why do people call you Bunny?” He’d wanted to ask you that for quite some time.  

“It’s quite a sad story, to be honest,” you began, swallowing what was left of your breakfast. 

He almost regretted his question immediately. He hadn’t even thought about how a cute nickname like yours could be from a sad memory. You watched as Lando’s expression softened, his eyes encouraging you to continue. 

“Matteo stayed a lot at our grandparent’s house after mum died, because… well, life happened,” you explained, your orange fingernails tracing the rim of your coffee mug. “Since he was so young, he hadn’t really understood the fact that I was his sister, so I instead became the girl he would visit from time to time who owned a pet bunny.” 

Lando leant his elbows on the table, captivated by your way of talking, his interest piqued. 

“And Bunny was easier for him to pronounce than my actual name,” you continued, a faint smile forming on your lips. 

“You had a bunny?”

“Yeah, his name was Taco,” you laughed, your smile growing more genuine. 

He chuckled softly at the name. You would name a pet Taco, that was just the kind of person you were. 

“Do you like having it as a nickname?” Lando inquired, his tone gentle again. 

“I don’t mind it,” you shook your head. “Matteo doesn’t say it anymore, but it’s… it’s different when other people say it.” 

It’s different when you say it, Lando. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“You’re drooling, mate,” Oscar’s voice laughed from behind him as they got out of the cars. 

“I am not,” Lando protested, but Oscar only shook his head. 

He wasn’t fooling anyone as he watched you and Jasmine step out on the front porch, dressed to the nines, ready for the auction. 

Oscar and him had picked up the two cars that were being auctioned off while you got ready. It was important that they were seen driving the cars up to the manor house as they arrived, and you and Jasmine were supposed to be arm candy. It felt both below and above your worth. 

You laughed as you saw the cars, shiny and polished McLaren’s. You didn’t care enough to know the models, you just knew they were worth millions. 

Jasmine walked down to Oscar with ease in her high heels, a beautiful burnt orange satin gown on her body. You watched as he greeted her with a kiss, feeling both a sense of pride and also some loneliness in your stomach. 

Your feet already hurt from your own heels. Something wasn’t entirely right since you broke your ankle, but you would have to suffer through it. 

Lando walked up to the porch, casually keeping his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted black suit. The white shirt he had on underneath probably had one too many buttons undone. Not that you were complaining, it looked gorgeous in contrast with his tan skin. He looked gorgeous. 

You were dressed in all black, apart from your orange nail polish. Your gown with a perfectly poofy tulle skirt and a flattering balconette corset top. You looked delectable, and Lando had a hard time hiding that.  

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said seriously to him. 

“Like what?” Lando replied, feigning innocence as he took your hand to help you down the front porch stairs. 

Like you’re falling in love with me.

“Like this is some early 2000s rom-com and I’m the nerdy girl who’s just gotten a makeover by a more popular girl,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He gave a genuine laugh, the kind that could only bring a smile to your face. He wanted to respond with some cliché statement about how it was only fitting since you looked like a movie star, but he remained silent.

Lando helped you into the car like a real gentleman, while Oscar and Jasmine got into the other one. The drive was two minutes at most. 

“Did you have a dress like that lying around?” he asked, fastening his seatbelt. 

You nodded, moving your hands over your lap to smooth out the fabric. “It’s a prom dress that I never got to use because of covid.” 

A spark lit up in Lando’s eyes. “I never got to have a prom either, y’know.” 

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of missed milestones hanging heavy in the air. You assumed it was because he hadn’t really gone to school like a normal kid, too busy with karting. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, Lando revved the engine. 

“Come on, let’s treat this night like prom.” 

The manor house was bigger than anything you’d ever seen before. You couldn’t grasp it — the multiple stories, the annex buildings, the beautiful and meticulous gardens. It was all too much for you. 

Lando pulled up to park the car next to the grand entrance, handing the keys to the valet before coming to open the door for you. You were met with camera flashes as soon as you stepped out. It wasn’t paparazzi, thank god — only photographers hired for the event.  

Lando didn’t dare to hold your hand in front of the cameras, this time. He settled with a hand on your lower back as you made your way inside after Jasmine and Oscar. 

The auction was held in a grand hall — no, a conservatory. It had a glass roof. It was filled with decorations, floral arrangements, and candle lights. A stage was built by the end of the room, which you assumed would be where they auctioned things off. 

It was also filled with people, dressed in sharp suits and colourful gowns. It looked photoshopped with how perfect it was. Not a thing out of place nor a person behaving oddly. Except for you, of course. You did not belong here. 

“What are they compensating for? Tiny cocks?” you whispered for only Jasmine to hear as you took in the room. This was bonkers. 

“The tiniest of cocks,” she snorted under her breath. 

Oscar and Lando did have to work — work the room that was, mingling and sucking up to people with big wallets. 

You and Jasmine made your way around as well, albeit much slower and with less intention. You talked to some people, drank some champagne, and eyed the canapés being served around. It didn’t look like anyone was eating, so you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You already were. So, now you were both odd and starving. 

You also eyed the objects up for auction. It was jewellery, cars, and destination vacations in places you’d never heard of. All in favour of some charity that was hardly mentioned once. Was this just a rich person shopping spree without the guilt of overconsumption? 

Lando kept looking across the room for you, his eyes always seeming to find you within seconds. And you found him to, sharing smiles or joking faces, saying get me out of here. 

It wasn’t possessive — it was more of a secret bond that existed right there in time and space, going unnoticed by everyone but the two of you. 

The bond was broken when a man approached you. Lando didn’t recognise him, but he already despised him. He was flirting with you; that would be obvious to anyone but you. You didn’t necessarily look uncomfortable. It seemed more like you found the conversation he tried to have with you pointless. 

You were so oblivious to the impact you had on men, or maybe on all people in general. It made him want to set himself on fire. The itchy feeling inside of him, telling him to scream for everyone in the room to hear — that you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And that you should be talking to him, and only him. Not some suave-looking asshole in an ill-fitting suit. God, you made him stupid. More stupid than normal. 

As Lando’s thoughts spiralled, you somehow got out of the conversation, swiftly making your way across the room and out of a door that he thought led to the garden. Or one of the gardens. This place was huge. 

He had things to do inside, people to talk to — but for a moment, he came to his senses and said fuck it. He needed to know if you were alright. 

His assumption that the door led to a garden was correct. The evening light cast a silvery glow over it, a tranquil contrast to the busy ballroom. From a distance, he saw you take a seat in an old stone gazebo, covered with ivy. You bent down to unclasp your heels. 

Lord, was he about to risk it all. 

His steps over the gravel path made you hear him, and he couldn’t help but feel busted. 

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. 

You shook your head, gesturing with your hand to the space beside you. He sat down, shyly looking at his hands in his lap. On the bench, he saw what he thought was the reason you had come out here, besides that man talking to you. Dessert. Two of them in little ramekins, but only one spoon. 

Lando breathed in the silence before hastily asking you what had been on his mind.

“Who was the man you were talking to?”

“Some stuck up think-tank-bitcoin-billionaire,” you huffed. “He asked me if my company was up for auction.” 

It wasn’t company as in a business. It was company as in your time of day. Or time of night more likely. He was asking to spend the night with you. Would audibly gagging be too improper of a reaction? Lando had to fight himself to not do it. 

“What was your answer?” he wondered, trying to keep his cool. 

Your lips turned into a smug smile. “That it’s free for people who deserve it, and then I walked away.” 

Lando chuckled, liking the fact that you showed a sense of pride with your actions. “Do I deserve your company?” 

“Haven’t asked you to leave yet, that should tell you something,” you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders.  

Lando nodded, scrunching his nose, a pink tint on his cheeks forming from the crisp air.

No, he was blushing. It wasn’t even cold outside. 

“Have you had fun otherwise?” He cleared his throat, making the conversation about something else. 

“I don’t know. I feel like a fraud, like I don’t belong,” you shrugged, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I think I might have convinced multiple people in there that I’m a communist, just because I was raised with a working-class perspective on things.” 

Lando suppressed his laughter for it to not be too loud. You saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.  

“This entire thing just feels performative to me,” you added. 

“Oh, it totally is,” he agreed. 

You glanced back at the manor, hearing the sound of voices in the distance. Your face reflected a mixture of amazement and discomfort. “And don’t get me started on the way people look,” you began again. “My mascara smudged and my dress got wrinkled the minute I stepped into that humid room, yet everyone else continues to look flawless.” 

Lando thought about interrupting you, saying that you still looked flawless to him. Or maybe you didn’t, and that was the best part. He understood your point fully, though. 

You shook your head as you continued, a bitter sigh escaping your lips. “And I can’t walk in heels since I broke my ankle, and my dress shows my scar, and I’m just… being a miserable little twat.”  

You dropped your shoulders, looking down at your bare feet as your heels were on the ground next to them. It hadn’t even crossed Lando’s mind, the shoes nor the scar, but it made sense that you didn’t feel confident about it. That he thought you should be confident wouldn’t exactly change your mind. 

“Oh! And they don’t eat,” you hastily pointed out. “They just hold the food and look pretty.” 

That was definitely true. He knew that you couldn’t eat yourself full at functions like this. His own empty stomach was a testament to that. 

“Is that why you came out here with two desserts and one spoon?” he questioned, containing his laughter to not come across as judgmental. 

You giggled. “Have you seen Amélie?” 

Lando shook his head no. 

“It’s a movie. It doesn’t really matter, but one of the main character’s favourite things in life is cracking the sugar on a crème brûlée, and I… think I agree with that,” you explained, grabbing one of the ramekins and carefully smashing the caramelised surface.  

It made a slight sound. Your eyes lit up as you looked at it. “See? Did you hear that?” 

He couldn’t help but grin at your reaction. 

“Try the other one,” you urged, handing him the spoon.  

He had tried crème brûlée before but never in this way. Never with someone telling him about how it was the best thing in life. As he cracked the sugar, he laughed so hard he felt his chest vibrate. 

He knew he couldn’t eat the dessert because of his diet, but seeing you take a spoonful was almost satisfactory enough. 

“Your mind is so… special,” he smiled in disbelief. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore, he just knew he needed you to hear it. “I don’t get how the universe could’ve created you.” 

Your smile faded as your laughter turned quiet. “Is that a compliment?” 

“In the highest form, Bunny,” Lando insisted. 

He didn’t know how to read your reaction, your sudden silence was a shock for him. Had he ruined a perfect moment by saying too much? That’s when he saw it, the tears pooling in your waterline as you fought with yourself to not let them fall. 

Lando was a soft mess in seconds. “A-are you crying because I complimented you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to laugh but your voice came out hoarse. 

“Don’t cry, it’s alright,” Lando said softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away from your face, gently cupping your cheek with his palm.

He crossed a line as he did, moving closer to you than ever before. 

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

“I just…” You were full on crying now. “I have no idea who I am, and this environment really showed me that.” 

Your lack of confidence broke his heart. Things had really piled up on top of each other to now finally get to you. A stupid auction being your downfall, the thing that made you realise how much your life had put you through. 

“I can’t get a degree, I can’t do musicals, and I definitely cannot fit in here. I have no way of being the girl that you want me to be, Lando,” you sobbed, your breathing picking up as your hands gesticulated out of pure panic. 

Your words hung heavy over the garden, suffocatingly, as you honestly believed them to be painfully true.

“Hey… don’t say that,” Lando tried to comfort, grabbing ahold of your hands to stop you moving, centering your focus. “You have no idea what I want from you.”  

“I want to hear you laugh at my stupid jokes. I want to feel your painted nails when you hold my hand. I want to see you get all giddy over a crème brûlée,” he listed things as they came to mind.

The warmth from his hands surrounded you as you let yourself relax, exhaling loudly. 

“I want you to linger in every possible goddamned doorway you can find,” Lando continued, looking you deeply in the eyes. “That’s all. Nothing more.” 

You were so close that he could see how colours reflected in your eyes. He liked you in ways he didn’t know was possible — for the little things that he’d never thought about before with other people. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. He didn’t want to think clearly. Lando hesitated, his eyes searching yours, as if seeking permission. 

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

He scanned your face, his gaze finally landing on your lips. You were waiting for him to move, for him to lean in, because you were too scared to do it yourself. But you wanted him to do it. You wanted it more than anything else. 

But all of a sudden, the lust in his expression turned into concern, and you felt something wet drip down on your upper lip. Blood. 

“Oh, fuck.” Your hands flew to your face, trying to stop the blood from dripping further.

Of course this would happen now. You were cursed, after all. What were you thinking? A pretty boy could not just kiss you. The universe had decided that happiness wasn’t for you. 

“Let me help—” Lando said, trying to get a hold of you to stay still, but you had already stood up. 

You moved to pick up your shoes, and Lando sat frozen in his spot. “I’m gonna walk back to the villa, you stay and do your rich person duties,” your voice cracked as you said it, taking a step back to avoid his proximity. You had panic written all over your face and blood on your hands. 

Lando’s emotions finally caught up with him as he too stood up to try and stop you. “Bunny, please! Don’t go, let’s talk about this,” he pleaded, hearing how pathetic he sounded. But he felt like he had no choice. 

You recoiled further away from him, your eyes glistening with tears as you started to walk, your bare feet over gravel, heels swinging from your hands. 

He couldn’t understand — how you’d gone from laughing about crème brûlées, to crying, to almost kissing each other, and then to you getting a nosebleed. He also couldn’t understand how he had let you get away. Fuck, was he stupid. 

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of someone running on the gravel. He met Jasmine’s worried eyes, contemplating if she should just murder Lando now. 

“Did she just leave? What did you do?” 

Lando could only shake his head, running a hand through his hair, the gesture portraying his inner turmoil. “I didn’t do anything…” he muttered, sighing loudly. “I was about to kiss her, and then she got a nosebleed all of a sudden.” 

Oscar came walking after Jasmine, just close enough to hear what Lando said. “That’s so typical of her,” he breathed out, baffled at how you always managed to almost comically mess things up.

Jasmine rubbed her temples. “Are the two of you actually fucking stupid?” she questioned angrily before yelling, “Lando, don’t just stand there. Go after her!” 

“To do what? Get rejected again?” he gesticulated with his hands in defeat, feeling his voice crack. His own tears had started to form. 

Jasmine looked back at him like he was stupid. Lando was stupid. That was a fact he now knew.  

“To clean up the blood and then actually fucking kiss her — because she did not reject you, she’s just scared!” Jasmine shot back, an intensity in her eyes that made Lando listen. “All she knows is fear, and falling in love with you hasn’t exactly helped with that.” 

He was stuck, his feet glued to the floor, the weight of Jasmine’s words hit him like a punch in the stomach. Falling in love — that was what the two of you were doing. Lando had been too blinded by his own infatuation to realise that you were scared of it — scared of that stability because your life hadn’t been stable for years. You truly believed yourself to be cursed. 

Fuck, was he stupid. He needed to fix this, and that was quick.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

He left the auction, Oscar assuring him that he could handle the rest of the night alone. The villa was quiet when Lando returned. He didn’t know what he should say when he saw you. He didn’t even know what kind of mood you’d be in. 

For a moment, he stopped in the hallway with all the bedrooms. Your door was open, a faint yellow light seeping through. He heard you moving around, the tap running in your en suite bathroom. That made him dare to move, to stand in your doorway. 

Your room was a bit messy from earlier when you were getting ready, your suitcase basically turned inside out. Your dress was tossed on the floor, next to your heels. A small red stain could be seen on the beige soles. 

Suddenly, you exited the bathroom. Your face was washed clean from makeup and blood, and you were wearing an oversized sleep shirt, reaching your mid-thigh. 

You stopped abruptly when you saw him, first shocked, then annoyed. He had no right to use your own methods against you, even though you knew he was right. Whatever he’d said to you, he would be right. 

“Now is not the time to be lingering in some fucking doorway, Norris,” you snapped, more to mask your own panic than anything else. 

You walked up to the door with determined steps, your fingers hovering over the doorknob. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms.

“I’m not letting you close that door, Bunny,” he said softly, but with an edge of determination, placing his hand on the door so it couldn’t move. 

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” you insisted, shaking your head as if to physically ward off his words.

Lando’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away to reveal an expression of raw sincerity. “Doesn’t that defy the point? Your mother’s entire idea with teaching you to linger?” 

“Don’t,” you whispered. He had no right to bring up your mother. 

“We might be dead tomorrow, but you won’t hear me out?” 

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded through gritted teeth, tightly closing your eyes to even bear with your emotions. 

“Why won’t you let me tell you that I like you?” 

He dropped the bomb. He had no option but to confess it to you. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done, yet when it was out there in the open, a weight was off his shoulders. This was meant to go this way. 

You opened your eyes. “Because I’ll screw this up like I always do!” you choked out, voice thick with unshed tears. “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!”

“Something always gets in the way of me and good things,” you continued. 

“I’m a good thing?” he whispered, but it almost echoed in the quiet room.

“That’s what you got from that?” you cried, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. “You don’t understand. Everything good that comes into my life, I mess up. I can’t even be normal around you because I’m so afraid of ruining it!”

“Because that’s the only thing that matters — that we like each other, that our feelings are mutual,” Lando explained like it was simple. “You’re not cursed. You’re just human. And so am I. We’re allowed to mess up, to be scared, to get nosebleeds at the worst possible moments.”

He took your hand, basically shaking as he held it. You didn’t move away. You let him hold you. You let him closer. 

“Or… if you are cursed, then I’ll start carrying a first aid kit,” Lando continued with a small smile, moving his free hand to wipe your cheek clean from tears. 

You let out a surprised snort, the sound mingling with your sobs. It was a ridiculous notion, yet somehow, it made perfect sense.

“Can I try kissing you again?” he softly wondered, a semblance of hope in his voice.

Lando watched as you started to smile at the question, nodding slowly. “Please, kiss me.”  

He brought both his hands up to your cheeks, your eyes intensely locking for a moment before he softly leant closer, his lips meeting yours in a featherlight connection.

The kiss was sweet. Softer than what you would’ve expected. It was also quite telling of all the emotions that you both harboured inside, finally being set free. 

Lando kissed you like it was important, like his life depended on you knowing how much it meant to him — like the two of you would never need another form of communication to tell each other things. This was for you to know that calling yourself cursed was just stupid. You were scared, that’s all. But you didn’t have to be scared anymore. 

He was the one to break the kiss, his breath hot against your face as he grinned. “See? Not cursed.” 

That was enough to get you laughing, turning your head down to lean against his chest as you let out a pathetic giggle. No blood, no broken bones, no compromised breathing. Okay, maybe your breathing was a little off, but that was to be expected after kissing someone. 

For a long, hazy moment, the two of you simply stared into each other’s eyes. How you ended up on the bed passed in a blur, the only thing your mind could focus on was Lando’s hands on your body. His lips back on yours. 

The kissing quickly grew fevered and devoted, his tongue exploring your mouth, neck, and chest as you melted against him and the soft mattress, your fingers clutching around him. He took away all of your thoughts, every lingering worry or doubt completely removed. Insecurities too, gone with the wind. 

He was breathless when he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. You fiddled with your fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt, revealing a landscape of freckled tan skin before your eyes. His palms moved over your hips, up your waist, cupping the underside of your breasts through the thin cotton of your t-shirt. 

As he moved to take off your shirt, you froze. Lando stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to say something. 

“The scar,” you said. “It makes me feel… weak, and I don’t want you to treat me like I’m weak.” 

Weak was the last word Lando would use to describe you. But he also understood. 

“I don’t have to see it. It’s alright like this if that’s what makes you comfortable,” he explained softly. 

You nodded, deciding on keeping your shirt on as you watched Lando remove his own. He was perfect, and you were you. Maybe that was enough. 

Lando caged you beneath him again, crawling over you, leaving sloppy kisses on your face, arms, and over the fabric of your shirt. The kisses ended with him biting your lower lip as his hands found home in a tight grip on your hips, the lace edge of your underwear tickling his palms. 

“Can I go down on you?” he whispered. His eyes looked for permission to continue, and you nodded, messily kissing him back.

He lowered back down your body again, his strong hands absentmindedly massaging the plush skin of your thighs, before finding the waistband of your panties, pulling them off you in a slow motion. He nestled between your legs, not breaking eye contact. 

You almost felt cold by being naked, even though the room was delightfully warm. You wanted to cringe at what his sight of you must be like, but he didn’t give you a chance to do so, a string of praise words falling from his mouth. 

As each word was said, he spread your wetness through your folds with a feathery movement of his fingers. Lando brushed your clit with a light touch, taking in your reaction before dipping his fingers into the pooling wetness.

“P-please, Lando, oh fuck—” Your voice was wrecked as you grew desperate for more. 

He grinned at your words as his face met your heat, leaving kisses around it before finally touching the part where you needed him the most. “So pretty,” he mumbled against you, kissing your clit. That made your brain short circuit. 

You reached down to push the curls of his forehead as he delved in, softly bringing you pleasure. Sucking on your clit with intention while his fingers curled deeper into you, his free hand gripping at your thigh, certain to leave crescent-shaped imprints from his fingernails as your soft skin spilled out between his fingers.

You truly did look pretty, though — through Lando’s eyes. With the evening glow of the sun shining through the windows and the white linen bedding surrounding your body, you looked angelic. As your shirt rode up, your stomach was revealed. He loved seeing your skin. Nipples pebbled through the t-shirt, hair dishevelled, skin gleaming from a thin layer of sweat. You made him painfully hard by just lying there, letting him taste you. 

“I’m—” You couldn’t get the words out, voice choking on your own moans, but Lando knew to increase the intensity. 

You were a fucking mess when you finished, letting that hazy feeling completely take over, whimpering his name out like it was the sweetest thing. He kept on babying your clit with the tip of his tongue until you tugged at his hair, lifting his face. He could’ve gone on forever if you’d let him. 

“Come up here,” you urged him, your voice shaky. You watched him lick his glossy lips, running a hand up your body in a soothing manner before collapsing next to you. 

“You should see how breathtaking you look right now,” he exhaled, looking at you with your face flushed and your eyes glossed over. You stared at him so deeply, catching your breath, as you realised you couldn’t decide what eye colour he had. They shifted from green, to blue, to brown. Fuck, you were spent. 

You thought for a while, and Lando could see it on your face, a mischievous grin forming on your lips before your hands moved down his stomach, stopping by his belt buckle. He let you undo it, your bottom lip nestled between your teeth as you teasingly looked up at him.

Already worked up from before, he moaned as you started to palm him over his trousers.

“I’m not gonna last if you do that,” Lando gasped, holding your hand still with a tight grip around your wrist. 

“Take them off, then,” you simply answered, earning a laugh. 

He couldn’t say no to that, moving awkwardly to get both trousers and underwear off as quickly as possible. He then settled closer to you, having you basically wrap your legs around him, clinging like a koala. You shared a look between each other, making sure that this was okay. It was so much more than okay. This felt necessary, like you were meant to do it. 

“I’m on the pill, so this is fine by me,” you explained to him, a tremble in your voice by having him so close to you. 

He kissed you before he did anything else, settling your nerves. Feeling your bodies mould together, creating a common heat. He glided himself through your folds, touching your already stimulated clit. As an act of desperation, you moved your hips lower, grinding against him. 

“You okay?” he chuckled. 

You hummed against the skin on his shoulder, playfully nibbling as you kissed him all over. His eyes met yours as he pushed into you, waiting patiently to see your reaction to the light stretch. You nodded, your breath hitching as he began moving more purposefully. 

The slow drags set of sparks of pleasure within you, so intense your eyes rolled back. You weren’t sure what kind of noises left your body, uncontrollable with the pleasure. Hearing Lando moan deeply into your ears made you feel less unsure.  

Completely intoxicated, you tried your best to take it all in. You focused on the golden shimmer in his eyes, the scattered freckles on his face, and the scar on his nose. It was so warm, and wet, feeling him thrust inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands again, just desperately spreading them over his back to his shoulders. Your sharp nails were destined to leave claw marks. 

“Faster, baby,” you breathed out, ready for more. 

You felt Lando grin against your cheek as he heard the pet name. It had completely slipped out on accident, but that didn’t mean it drove him any less crazy. You felt him grip your body harder as he fucked up into you.

“Doing so well for me,” he moaned out your name. “C’mon, Bunny, let me see how pretty you are when you come again.”  

A litany of moans filled the room, from the both of you. That, along with the sounds of your bodies crashing together, made you fucking delirious. You were close, so close. You wanted to feel that feeling again, of him bringing you to the end.

You shamelessly used him as you felt the familiar fire spread through your veins. He wasn’t long after, almost lifting your body to get you closer to him as he finished. His moans were slow and shaky as he rested his lips on your forehead.

His hips lost all rhythm as he spilled into you, his cock twitching inside you while he slowly pumped you full of his release, thrusting several times as he rode it out. You wanted to memorise the guttural sounds and the tremble of his face muscles as he reached the ultimate high. 

“We’re a mess,” he commented, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

You let out a small chuckle. “Stay still for a second,” you ordered him as you relaxed in his hold. Both of you sighed at the sensation of him filling you up completely. You would enjoy this feeling of having him as close as humanly possible for as long as he let you.

“I don’t ever want to move.” he murmured against your hair.

You caught your breaths in unity, staying close together without saying much more. You didn’t need to. Lando knew that all his future dreams would take place here, lying quietly next to you, in your own sacred heaven. You two, sharing heavy breathing and sighs, after delicately bruising each other’s bodies. 

He looked you deep in your eyes, seeing how tired you were, but solidifying what was once a doubt for you. He looked at you like you were a risk worth taking. A river worth wading. A river worth drowning in. 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando woke up the morning after feeling well rested, in a bed that was warm and the sheets scented by you. He felt you moving next to him as he came out of his slumber, mumbling something about it being too hot and how you had forgotten to open the window before falling asleep. 

He didn’t understand how you felt hot when all he felt was ice cold as you left him alone in bed. The room got brighter as you moved the curtains, opening a window to let in the outside air. He opened his eyes to see you, back turned against him, stretching your body to wake up. A grin plastered on his face. He was painfully happy. 

You moved to wrap your arms around yourself, lifting the hem of the shirt you’d slept in. As you pulled it over your body, Lando got a view of your entire being. He was certainly awake now. Naked, your skin glowed golden technicolour from the sunlight, in stark contrast to the white room. 

You knew exactly what you were doing as you slowly turned around. 

“Just look at you…” Lando exhaled. “Fucking gorgeous, Bunny.” 

In seconds, you were back in bed next to him, pulling the bedding up to hide your face. 

“Gonna act all shy now?” he teased, chuckling. 

As you peeked back out, Lando was quick to get closer to you. He hovered over you as his hands found your body. 

He didn’t even have to tell you — your lips already parting as his thumb caressed your cheek, moving closer to your mouth. You took his thumb in your mouth, softly sucking as it rested on your tongue. You saw how his eyes fluttered at the feeling, gently removing it to press a passionate kiss to your wet lips. 

Lando was hesitant to let his hands wander lower, softly cupping your breasts and littering your sternum with open-mouthed kisses. His fingertips lightly pinched the sensitive peaks of your nipples, as he looked up at you through tired eyes, always wanting your reassurance, as his lips got close to the scar. 

You nodded gently, allowing him to kiss it. You didn’t like touching the scar, but somehow, you had no issue when his mouth did it. He kissed it gently before moving to kiss your nipple. He smiled with pride at the breathy gasp you let out as he placed his mouth on you. You were practically whining at the pressure of him sucking at your skin. 

He released you after a moment, lying down next to you. He felt your heartbeat through your chest as his head rested on top of your breast, softly padded by the plush skin. You looked down at him with joy, placing a finger under his chin so he was looking right back at you. 

Slowly, your fingers traced his face. He smiled at your orange nail polish. You took your time tracing the bridge of his nose, stopping when you got to the little mark he had right across it. He had his scars too. 

“My heart hurts,” you groaned quietly, as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“Huh? Are you serious?” he mumbled against the skin of your chest. 

“It’s a dull ache, a desire almost,” you explained, and Lando understood your point. 

“I think it’s contagious,” Lando smiled. He let the words linger in the air before adding, “You should come with me to Hungary after this.” 

You sighed, realising how hard it would be to say no to him in the future. “I don’t go back to uni for another couple of weeks, so…” 

“I’m buying you a plane ticket right now,” he said, reaching for his phone, but your hands stopped him. 

“No,” you said. 

For a second, Lando started to second-guess everything. 

“Join me in the shower first.” 

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Thank you for reading ♡ Feedback is well appreciated!

[baileypie-writes]

Howdy! So when you see the movie, can you write a story of a fem reader and velvet, I know that this isn’t very specific, but I just need more fanfics about vels 😭

A/N ~ Of course! This was a lot of fun to write lol. I love Velvet.

~🎤Where’s My Hug?🎤~

Velvet x fem!Reader

Fandom: Trolls: Band Together

Reader: Female

Relationship: Romantic

Synopsis: Velvet’s “too cool” to admit that she likes your affection. Thinking that she didn’t like it, you stopped giving her so much, but that made Velvet upset.

Warnings: Reader and Velvet not properly communicating their feelings until the end, pretty cringe

(Sorry for the low quality pic lol)

Velvet is not a very affectionate person. She hates initiating hugs and kisses, so she lets you do it. She likes the attention, but doesn’t show it. She’s “too cool” for that. Since she shows no sign of enjoyment from your acts of affection, you decided to tone it down.

But Velvet didn’t like it. She secretly misses being greeted with a gentle hug, and maybe a peck on the cheek. But, of course, she’s not going to admit it. So instead, she’s just gonna be grouchy.

~~~~

As you were removing the plastic from the package of popcorn, your doorbell rang. You sprinted to answer it, knowing exactly who it was. As expected, when you opened the door, the green haired twins were on the other side of it.

You’ve known Velvet and Veneer for a long time. Veneer was your best friend, he always made you laugh. And Velvet was your girlfriend. You two had been dating for a few months now. Tonight, you guys were having a movie night. You insisted on watching your favorite movie. You found out the previous day that the twins had never seen it, and you didn’t think that was acceptable.

“Hey (Y/N)!” Greeted Veneer as he stepped inside, Velvet following suite.

“Hey Veneer!” You gave him a side hug.

Velvet rolled her eyes. Of course, she wasn’t gonna verbally admit that she was upset, but by looking at her face, it was clear as day.

She complained in her mind, thinking: “Where’s my hug?”

Any other thoughts were cut off by you gently grasping her hand.

“Hey, babe!”

She was caught off guard, making her face turn red. It wasn’t easy to miss on her paper-white complexion. She quickly turned her head, praying that you didn’t see.

“Hey.” She said, a mix of bashfulness and coldness in her voice.

~~~(Mini Time Skip)~~~

You were seated between the twins. Velvet on your right, and Veneer on your left. The movie had hit its climax, and the character that everyone else trusted had turned on them.

Veneer gasped loudly. “What!? How could they!” You laughed at his dramatic reaction. So typical of Veneer.

You started patting his shoulder, jokingly comforting him. Velvet sighed. It annoyed her so much that you were giving her brother more attention. She scoffed, and snatched the empty bowl out of your hands. “I’m gonna get more popcorn.” She said, the annoyance clear in her voice, and exited the room, shutting the door a bit too aggressively.

She startled you a bit. You wondered why she seemed so upset. Once her shadow disappeared from the gap under the door, you paused the movie, and turned to your left.

“Hey Veneer?”

“Yeah? Something wrong?” He responded, a bit concerned.

“Have you noticed that Velvet’s been a bit…. you know…. grouchy lately?”

Veneer rolled his eyes. “Girl, she’s my sister. Of course I’ve noticed.”

“Okay, so…. do you happen to know why?”

He scoffed. “Yes I know why! I thought it was obvious! It’s because you’re not giving her much love anymore, duh! Gosh, you can be so dense sometimes.” He rubbed his hand down his face at the last sentence, clearly done with your stupidity.

“Wait what? I thought she didn’t like it when I hugged or kissed her! She always looked so bothered.”

Veneer laughed tiredly. “It’s like she doesn’t even know her.” He mumbled loudly to himself as if you weren’t right next to him. “Lemme tell you something about my sister. She pretends not to like something, even though she really likes it. Need I remind you of your guy’s whole love story~~?” He said the last two words in a teasingly dreamy way, and twisted his arms to make the shape of a heart.

You looked back to before you and Velvet were dating. Veneer was right. She pretended not to like you, but in reality, she fell harder for you than you did for her. You felt like a complete idiot, and a terrible girlfriend.

“Oh my gosh, you’re right! I’m so stupid!” You dropped your face in your hands. Then, you felt Veneer’s hand on your back. Before he could say anything, though, the door opened, and Velvet came in with the previously empty bowl, now full of popcorn. As soon as she sat down, Veneer popped up.

“Oh boy, am I thirsty! I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get some water!” He said, before zipping to the door. His tone made it obvious that he was lying. He was never good at it. Before he was completely out of the room, he poked his head in, and gave you a wink.

After she heard the door close, Velvet turned to you. “What was that about?”

You let out a halfhearted chuckle, before taking a deep breath. “Hey Vels, I’m really sorry.”

Velvet was slightly started by the genuine apologetic look you gave her. “About….?”

“I thought you didn’t like hugs or kisses, so I stopped giving you them. I didn’t know that it would bother you so much. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Velvet sighed with a hint of relief. “Just…. don’t do it again.” She crossed her arms, turning away as she, once again, began blushing. But this time, you noticed. You smiled, and gave her the tightest hug.

“I won’t. But we should get better at communicating with each other. We don’t want something like this to happen again.”

Velvet let out a loud “Uuuugh.” Before responding.

“Fine.”

You laughed, before grabbing her face, and pulling her in for a kiss. One that Velvet, for once, reciprocated.

~~~🎤~~~🎤~~~🎤~~~🎤~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[joosthead]

Sorry for all of this in advance. Family AUs are my bread and butter regardless of which fandom I'm in and this revelation about the future of normal au has me going insane so just bare with me at moment. Sorry if this is weird/cringe or if you can't comment on anything due to spoilers.🫠

The first kid being an accident because of course he would be. 😅

Born soon after the first wedding, so was he the result of "we're engaged" sex or was he the reason for the proposal if there even was one before the wedding? Was Reader pregnant at the wedding??? If so, omg how cute but also it probably looked like a shotgun wedding to outsiders which is funny to me.

(Also if there was an engagement, how did Joost propose?? Was it romantic and planned or a spur of the moment thing?)

And of course the second kid is also an accident.🤣 They probably got too excited once given the all clear to have sex again after the first was born. Of course they would end up with two so close together.

Kids 1 and 2 sound like little menaces and I both love that for Joost and Reader and pity them at the same time. 

Also for the third kid, I love how Joost saying she's fussy and not liking any of his songs harkens back to when him and Reader first met and the first song of his she listened to was a skip. Like mother like daughter indeed.

I love thinking back to the prequel fic of when they met with Reader chewing out Joost for ruining her purse and later realizing she is having sex with a man with a crazy frog tattoo with all this future information in mind. Like, honey, you just met the father of your children. He is going to sing Crazy Frog to them as they go to sleep.

I'm going to say this in the context of normal au to not be parasocial and make assumptions about the actual guy, but I think Joost would be a great dad. He's like a big kid himself so he would get along with the lil kleins so well. Although that probably leaves all the discipline to poor Reader.

So those were my thoughts and feelings 🤪. I hope you don't mind all of that 😅. Normal au is one of my favorites on here and I love your writing. Can't wait to see how these two idiots fall in love. 👍

anon first of all: thank you thank you thank you for leaving this incredibly detailed and lovely ask it isn't weird or cringe I ABSOLUTELY LOVE LOVE LOVE TALKING ABOUT NORMAL AU !!! lolol i was actually going to have it so they're a 1 and done couple but i thought three little kleins running around would be so cute :’’’’))) i grappled a bit with how normal au would End as in in the future future but i really see them with the white picket fence and the kids and pets and everything….maybe it is my own personal penchant for domesticity but i can't imagine it any other way LOLSSS

reader was pregnant during the wedding!! but they didn’t know until after :’’) there was no proposal, in my head it was like they were taking a walk in joost’s hometown and he was like … we should get married. idk if town hall weddings exist in NE but they do now according to normal au LOL reader’s like yknow what. let’s get married. 

all of it was very spur of the moment but they wouldn’t have it any other way 🩷 and ofc finding out about baby 1 (i w decided he’s named laurens) is CRAZY unexpected for both of them :’’) my heart 

yes that's exactly why baby 2 is an accident LOLOL they pounced on each other the second they got the go ahead and one thing led to another and … baby 2 !! (i’m deciding baby 2 is named juna because of the song by clairo i don’t make the rules [i do make all the rules]) 

laurens n juna r partners in crime in every possible way… when they get old enough to talk and be little rascals they cover for each others various pint sized crimes of which i’m sure there are many—distracting papa from the music or mama from work, boosting each other up to steal cookies from cookie jar, 

there was really no room to worry about if they would get along or not since they’re so close in age…  fr my favorite irish twins 

sometimes reader and joost get at each others heads because parenthood but they will always remember that the common enemy is not each other—it’s the ✨kids✨jk …. unless….. 

baby number 3 (sanne!!) is definitely fussy the way reader is and the parallel to the night they met ,,, anon i didn’t even make that connection when i was writing it !! that is so fucking cute and i love how you KNOWW normal au hahaha oh my gosh i love that sm. i imagine laurens and juna to be a lot like joost in energy and mind while sanne is takes completely after reader

WHEN I TELLLLL YOUUUUUU THIS ALMOST MADE ME CRY AT WORK “like honey you just met the father of your children. he is going to sing crazy frog to them as they go to sleep.” FUCK. FUCKKKKKK. trust when you guys see the rest of normal au it will literally be such a surprise with even more future information

i also agree with you :33 normal au joost is just as blindsided by the babies as reader is but he definitely steps up to the plate for his people :33 i also think he is just such a softie he can't bring it in himself to discipline the kids in a way that matters so he has to beg reader to do it LOL

thank you so so so much for your thoughts and feelings and i invite them wholeheartedly and warmly!! i'm so happy you love normal au and my writing and i thank you for the kind compliments and such generous thoughts on normal au so so much they really keep me writing <333333

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Hiiii me again

Related to the post about the ownership of characters and the tags you put-

I just wanted to mention that you’ve given me a lot of confidence. I used to be the type of person who believed “if your oc even breathes in the direction of a canon character, it’s cringe and Mary Sue and you’ll be ripped to shreds for it.” I’d have to tread so lightly with characters I enjoyed and love them from afar because I felt if I made even a joke post someone would bring it up.

I’ve only just gotten into the cod fandom, found your blog a couple months ago, and it’s given me a lot of like. Idk!! Just “fuck it, do what you want” kinda vibes in the best way? It’s really hard to word this lmao. But since finding your blog I’ve made a 141 character, a shadow, literally shipping an oc with ghost now, and I’m having fun that I wouldn’t have if I didn’t find your blog

So thank you <3

Hello! (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

Well, It's been an apparent issue in this fandom. idk why, but when I visit other fandoms, the sense of ownership and possessiveness to the characters is not that high, like what's up with these people I don't know. Like, the characters in media, especially in games, don't belong to anyone except the studios that made them 😭

We as fandom members can create original characters, alternative universes, and stuff for them. I can't imagine a piece of media without fanarts, fics, and OC's really. Heck, that's what keeps the fandom alive. If there's one thing we can learn from history of media, is that you can't hold back people's creativity. OF COURSE, there are cringe ones and unhinged ones, but it's fandom, of course, it's filled with different types of people from normal to bizarre ones.

Here's the thing, just because one person has already shipped their OC with one character, that doesn't mean that character is LOST forever to that one particular OC like it's a damn popularity competition 😭.

I've also seen some people saying that they're so emotionally attached to this one character, that if they see him with someone else's OC. they get super emotional and super angry?? Okay that's just-- WOW.

If you feel uncomfortable seeing your favorite character being shipped with someone else, then that just means that you're NOT ready and not mature enough to be an OC creator and be in a fandom space. Full stop.

and if I may speak from experience, I've lost a few friendships due to being... quite popular OC shipper with Ghost 🥲 I personally don't feel anything when I see other's OC's with Ghost, or any character I like with other OC's -- I EVEN DRAW OTHER OC'S WITH GHOST FOR COMMISSIONS 😭

But yeah, before I yap too much, thank you so much for the good words in the last paragraph! It's very very lovely, and I'm glad you have your own OC to have fun with! Happy creating and happy drawing💖!

[thelovelydoggycatmadi]

Soul and Maka in my original story (Zanebie)

I couldn’t come up with a better title.

Q&A

?: why do they look different?

A: says in the title they’re not in the SE universe but in my own series Zanebie. Which started off as an Aphmau fanfic and I’m trying to branch off into original content. Thats probably a combo you’ve only seen maybe once because there’s like one piece of fanart for that crossover but you’d probably have to be deep in the Aphmau fandom like me. The other 65% of you probably only know Aphmau for brain rot or just haven’t heard of her.

?: what inspired some of these changes?

A: I feel like I have to state this preemptively but these aren’t redesigns or critiques just designs to make them fit in my universe. I also changed there’s powers and what they are in terms of magic capability.

?: why is Soul and Maka a zombie and a witch respectively?

A: witches aren’t evil in Zanebie. They’re actually quite common and don’t operate the same way as soul eaters. Same with zombies, they’re basically the same person mentally with only one visual change. Being their eyes. Soul would’ve died due to blood loss when they first met Crona. And brought back by Blair, who they haven’t met and is also no longer a magic cat but another magical species entirely. But that’s spoilers so.

?: why would you do this? Your story is not very big and people barely talk about it.

A: funny.

?: can I do something like this?

A: you don’t need my permission be cringe and free little bird.

Steins notes: (character backgrounds and other small changes let me indulge)

Soul Evan’s: a rare and sad sight to see such a young boy being a zombie. I’ll send her to the demon ladies house. She should be able to keep him safe. I’m sure I’ll get an earful from her though, since she already has so many in that house. But it should be fine. It’s so interesting though, how souls start to overflow and burst with even more magic after death. Like our living bodies are a shell that keeps all our potential inside. I should do some testing.

Maka Albarn: A talented young witch. But she feels a large amount of guilt for what happened poor girl. She probably didn’t think dragging him out to that church to practice magic would’ve led to all this. And finding out her parents are hunters would also be quite a shock. Well I’ll send her over with him. They need each other right now.

[albertdabuttler]

Zombie | K.H.

MASTERLIST

fandom: 80s

pairings: Kirk Hammett x F!Reader

WARNINGS: This story starts with a plot. Friends to lovers, LOOOTS of fluff, kissing, kind of having someone throw themself on the reader (???) more fluff, smut, fluffy smut, fingering, p in v, (safe sex dw 🤣) overstimulation, some form of comedy…

summary: An initially boring Halloween night takes an intriguing turn when a game of spin the bottle has you hoping your kissing skills are good enough for your best friend.

WC: 6.6k

gif not mine!!

A/N: Hi losers, finally posted yayyyy! I wrote and posted this on wattpad and think you guys deserve to see it too! And guess what??? I have another story coming right after this 😍 Also I kinda add detail to what you wear like those corny wattpad writers… I’m sorry…but I swear its all inclusive!!

———————

10:47PM, October 31st, 1979.

Here you sat on the kitchen counter of one of your classmates homes, loud booming music all around you, drunk teenagers making out with each other everywhere and some game going on in the living room.

You were dressed as a ghost, pale makeup across your face, black shadow around your eyes and white clothing, ripped and stained to make it look old.

"That guy over there's been looking at you all night," said Jocelyn, another one of your classmates and your best girlfriend since seventh grade. She was dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein.

"Don't look now, but he's totally checking you out!" She said, standing in front of you while trying to subtly look at the guy over your shoulder.

"What's he look like?" You questioned, hoping it was a certain long, wavy-haired brunet you had eyes for since second grade.

"Blond hair, brown eyes and he's jacked. He's dressed like a surfer." She smirked. Hearing her words, you whipped your head around to see the boy she described smile widely at you, sending a small wave your way. He was dressed like a stereotypical surfer, medium shaggy hair, sky blue swim trunks, a white muscle shirt and pink sunglasses.

You politely smiled, waved back and turned back around, "Not my type... You know I like brunets."

Jocelyn groaned in disappointment and annoyance, "Okay well the one you're thinking about doesn't look at you like most of the guys here."

"That's because most of the guys here can't keep it in their pants." You rolled your eyes, hopping off the counter and making your way to the living room. You spotted Tom dressed like a basketball player on the couch with his arm around a girl. She was dressed like a devil, laughing at the game they were playing. Sitting a couple feet away from him, you asked, "What game are we playing?"

"Spin the bottle," the boy replied, the alcohol making his words slur with a smile. You internally praised yourself for going to the bathroom when they were making all the girls play a drinking game.

"Hey!!" you heard someone call out for you, turning to the group whose eyes were all on you. Feeling an intense wave of embarrassment, you spotted the beer bottle on the coffee table turned towards you.

"Fuck."

Looking up to see who spun it, you lowly groaned when it was the surfer boy. He was a pretty attractive guy, above average looking, nice bod, so things could be way worse. You really didn't want to kiss the guy. Your gut told you he was a creep. But of course you knew there was absolutely no way in hell you could get out of this without drinking, so you stood up, walking towards him with an awkward smile on your face.

Standing in front of him for a couple seconds, you leaned up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, quickly turning around to sit again.

Everyone in the room booed at you before the tall blond grabbed your wrist and kissed you with a little too much tongue. You cringed and pulled back, but he didn't let go. He tried to kiss you again so you shoved his face away with excessive force.

The room was quiet. The upbeat music in the background making it that much more awkward.

"That was gross," you chuckled, scoffing and turning back to your seat.

"Don't eat the garlic bread before the game, guys." You said, earning a few laughs.

I mean, the guy was being far too desperate for a silly game of kissing random people. You had the right, especially if the kiss was bad.

It was when you sat down that you noticed him. He was dressed in a zombie outfit, makeup of fake scars on him. Finally you found him after almost the entire night of looking for him, or rather waiting for him to pass by near you, but it's the same difference.

Kirk stood by the doorway in the corner of the room, a smile with a look that mocked you.

You subtly stuck your tongue out at him, earning the finger in return.

It was Jocelyn's turn next, she kissed a random guy, and the turns kept going until it was your turn to spin.

You really, really hoped it landed on Kirk.

So you spun it hard and fast, the bottle sitting there spinning for longer than usual until it finally slowed down, landing on the other side of the room.

It was him. It landed on Kirk.

He stared at the bottle, scratching the back of his neck with a cringe on his face.

Now what? Surely you didn't think it through, how would you kiss him? Would it ruin your almost lifelong friendship? Would he see you differently and finally acknowledge his feelings for you? Or would he dislike it and judge you based off the way you kiss?

You didn't realize the moments that had passed until Kirk was standing right in front of you.

"We don't have to do this if you don't wanna." He whispered as he looked down at you, awkwardly pursing his lips.

"Nah, gotta play the game," You took his hands and almost jumped up with excitement despite your nerves.

Kirk cleared his throat, turning to the guy you kissed earlier and in a mocking tone, "Watch and learn, motherfucker." He said, giggling at the guy.

He turned his head back to you, trying to hold in a laugh. But he hesitated, finally realizing the spot he was in. A light pink dusted his cheeks. He ignored it and moved one of his hands to cup your cheek, the other to the back of your head.

The moment felt like it was going in slow motion as he leaned in, gazing into your eyes and then looking straight at your lips until his lightly pressed up against them.

Wow.

Kirk was a great kisser. It made you wonder how much experience he had.

He was quite smooth with it, slowly moving his lips against yours. He pulled away for a short breath and your reaction, until he turned his head the other way, leaning back in to kiss you again at another angle. Just to see if it was any different. People began to cheer.

Moving your hands up around his neck, you surely didn't expect anything like this, if anything you expected a short, boring kiss.

Your heart was racing, you felt your face become hot as you nervously played with the hair on the nape of his neck. He pulled back, his eyes widening in horror.

He quickly let go of you and moved back to his place, leaving you standing there as the game continued on.

You looked at him confused. It was just a kiss right? Part of a game. You didn't have to act like it had to be special. But why'd he kiss you like that, then act like it was gross?

Standing up, you made your way to the kitchen, "I'm gonna get a drink." You stated in slight disappointment, swerving past Kirk and earning 'Oo's' from the crowd.

Now Kirk felt guilty for pulling away so fast.

Kirk always liked you. Just not in the way he thought he did. Yes, he'd occasionally feel the room get hot when you checked him out, thinking he wouldn't notice. Or get nervous when you looked too pretty... But that meant nothing. It would be the same if you were a stranger.

However, he really liked that kiss. The sweet taste of punch with a hint of alcohol. How soft your lips were. How your hands felt as they lightly tugged his hair. He wondered what other situations you'd pull his hair in... Maybe when he made love to you... Physically showing you, and verbally affirming how much he really did love you. How close your body was to his. That was the closest proximity you two had ever been in. He really enjoyed it.

Wait.

Fuck, does that mean he likes you now?

He couldn't stop thinking about it. About how the kiss made him feel. About how you were literally perfect for him. You knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. He loved everything about you, there wasn't a single thing he could think of that he didn't like about you. God it was all so cheesy and gross. How could he let himself think like he was in a high school Rom-Com movie.

All these thoughts overwhelmed him with excitement, making him smile widely and get up to look for you. Just then remembering you were probably upset or something by the way you left so abruptly.

You sat on the kitchen island counter again, facing away from the living room, watching as a few couples kissed and giggled around the room and you sighed in annoyance.

"Hey."

The familiar voice made you freeze. You knew he was standing behind you, waiting for you to acknowledge him but you pretended like you didn't hear him over the music.

Your eyes followed him as he passed in front of you, leaning on the counter across from the one you sat atop, crossing his arms.

He cleared his throat.

"Hi," you said with a plastic smile, your voice cracking.

He smiled back genuinely, "Sorry if that was... Weird. We had to, otherwise we'd have to drink."

"Yeah... It's fine. Just a kiss," you laughed awkwardly, staring at the boy in front of you, hoping that he might actually like you. Just because of the way he kissed you.

He looked great in his costume. Fake bite marks on his neck and arms, his hair was messy. He had a white tee with faux blood stains and rips in it, revealing some skin and the light definition of his muscles. Over that, he had a leather jacket, the sleeves rolled up, with black ripped jeans and a fob too.

"I thought you came for a drink," he said, grinning with his stupidly cute crooked teeth and that annoying little dimple, licking his dumb red and plump lips. "Right," you chuckled, hopping off at the same time he stepped forward, nearly bumping into him.

You wanted to be as far from him as possible.

"Hey," he called out your name.

"Yeah?" you replied, turning back around to look at him.

"The drinks are over here," he chuckled, pointing his thumb behind him where there were a couple of large coolers on the ground.

"Right," you mentally face palmed. He handed you a bottle of beer and you reached for the top to avoid coming in contact with his hand.

It still had the cap on but you couldn't take it off and chuckled in embarrassment. Why was it so awkward now?

"Here," he took the bottle from your hand and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter, handing it to you.

When you reached to grab it again, he pulled back.

You paused, moving to try and grab it again but he held it away from you.

"Kirk."

"Yes?" He smiled cheekily.

"Give me my beer."

"Well it's not yours until you've taken a sip from it, am I right?"

You sighed, "Just give me the bottle, Kirk," going to reach for it again but he held it behind his back.

"Kirk!" You chuckled.

Now he reached his goal. Finally a smile.

Trying to attain for it for the third time, he moved it away once again, holding it above his head this time.

"Come on," he chuckled, "If you want it you just have to take it." He stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Gripping his shoulder, you got on your toes trying to reach for it. He watched your hand as it was a couple inches from the bottle, "Ugh, you almost have it!" He mocked, turning his head down to look at you.

Locking eyes with him for a second, his breath hitched as his eyes flickered to your lips once more. An intense wave of desire for another taste, he slowly leaned in.

You did notice this but decided to be oblivious and ignore it. Kirk was a ticklish guy, so you poked the side from which arm he was holding up, causing him to immediately flinch and bring his arm down. You quickly snatched the bottle from his hand, "HA! Loser."

"Hey, that's cheating!" He said, laughing nervously, hoping you didn't notice his attempt.

"Losers, weepers." You said, turning around to grab a piece of candy from a bowl.

Taking a long sip of your beer, Kirk spoke up before the silence became awkward.

"So about that guy you kissed earlier,"

You almost choked on your drink but kept it up to your lips to avoid having to say anything.

"Was my kiss better than his?" he raised his brow playfully.

This time you did choke, coughing for air as you set the bottle down. Kirk hurried to you and softly patted your back.

"You okay? Sorry..." What a stupid question, he thought.

Grabbing the bottle again, you took another sip to stop the itching in your throat.

"Are you good?" He cautiously let go as you cleared your throat.

"Uh-m yeah..." Speaking was uncomfortable, so you cleared your throat once again.

"Sorry. Uh, what were you saying?" You knew exactly what he was saying but hoped and hoped he forgot about it.

A sadistic smile grew on his face.

"My kiss was better than the other guy's, right?" He sat atop the counter.

You stared at him in disbelief.

"What do you think, Kirk?" You asked him genuinely.

He threw his hands up in defense, "Hey, you're my best friend so you've gotta be on my side."

You rolled your eyes, thanking the lord for his lighthearted personality.

"Yes. Your kiss was better. He used too much tongue." You cringed.

"Good..." He chuckled, clearing his throat. His palms were getting sweaty.

"...Did..." He hesitated.

"Did...you like it...?" He kept his gaze on you for any kind of response or reaction.

You tried to look away from him, but his eyes kept you in a trance.

"Uhm... Yeah. You're not a bad kisser, y'know." You smiled, playfully hitting his shoulder. An attempt to lighten the mood.

He smiled back. "Alright, good." He laughed lightly, "I know that if you liked it then it really was good."

"What makes you say that?" You questioned, a little confused.

"You're brutally honest with me."

You paused. Maybe you weren't as honest as you should be. You've been lying to him since the second grade. Or rather keeping something from him. Which is still dishonesty.

But you couldn't tell him now. I mean, you got over him a ton of times, so you could do it again. And you've liked other guys more than you liked him... But you still always had a little thing for him in the back of your mind when you had those other crushes, you hated how smitten you were.

"Yeah, I am aren't I?" You smirked. "That's why I'm better than all of your friends." You joked.

He only smiled at you.

"I love you."

You turned around just in case your blush was noticeable.

"Good."

Turning back around, "I love you too," you lifted your bottle up to him, "but remember you're still a loser."

He playfully rolled his eyes, "Yeah whatever."

Walking towards the living room, it had seemed that the game was still going on.

"Wanna get outta here?" He asked, walking up next to you, motioning his head towards the general area in which the front door was located.

"Sure. It's kinda boring here anyways."

Kirk chuckled, looking at Tom and mouthing to him that he was gonna leave.

"I'll go warm up the car," he informed.

"Alright," you responded, walking up to Jocelyn to let her know you were leaving with Kirk, since she was your ride there.

“Let me know if he makes a move," she whispered, winking at you.

"Oh shut up," you scoffed.

"What? He looked real into it when it was your turn. One would think he was in love with you!"

"Stop it, Jocelyn!" You giggled, getting up to leave.

"Use protection!" She yelled rather loudly.

You gagged in response and turned around, lifting your hand next to your head and flipping her off.

The walk to the car was difficult. At first you had to swerve through a crowded foyer in order to leave the house, and the walk to the car was cold. It was windy, but thankfully Kirk had driven up to the front of the house from where he was parked. Which was kind of far.

As you reached for the handle, you heard a click and pulled, only to find it was locked.

You groaned loudly, "Kirk, it's cold as shit out here! Stop it with your stupid games."

He rolled down the window a crack, "Only if you say the magic word."

"Please."

"No, the magic word." He smirked.

"God, you're such an asshole sometimes." You sighed.

He made a buzzer sound, "Wrong."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you dragged your hand across your face, knowing he wouldn't budge until you played along. "Abracadabra."

The door clicked and you wasted no time in opening the door to sit down.

"Fuck you."

"Thanks." He said, shifting into gear and driving off.

"Wanna get ice cream?" He asked.

"Uh... Yeah but I'm pretty tired. Could you just drop me off at home?" You replied.

"Mhm."

The ride home was a little quiet, so you decided to turn on the radio. Damage Case by Motörhead began playing at full volume, causing the both of you to jump as you quickly reached for the volume to lower it.

Turning the knob for a different radio station, you found one with a softer tone of music.

How Long by Ace was playing. The romantic vibrations it gave off caused you to quickly switch the radio station, but Kirk grabbed your hand.

"Go back, I like that song"

"You do?" You questioned, scoffing as if he was a weirdo for liking it, even if you did too.

"Yeah." He chuckled, his eyes still on the road.

So you went back, and the song played.

A short moment passed and Kirk spoke, "You know you're my best friend, right?" He said.

"Uhh, yeah...? Where's this coming from?"

There was a light ahead going from yellow to red.

As he came to a complete stop, he turned to you, "I know this is real corny, but I would do anything for you. Anything. Just say the word. Okay?"

"Okay...." You dragged out, letting out an awkward laugh. "Thanks Kirk."

"Anytime." He clicked his teeth and winked, pointing a finger gun your way.

The light turned green as you chuckled.

Finally you turned the familiar corner onto your block. It wasn't long until Kirk pulled over to the curb in front of your home, "Thanks Kirk, see ya," you said as you opened the door.

"Hey, wait," he called, "Could I maybe spend the night? My dad said it's best I don't go home tonight..." He pursed his lips.

"Oh yeah, sure. My parents aren't in town until Sunday, so... We can watch as many scary movies as we want without getting yelled at to go to sleep," you chuckled.

"Wicked," he pumped his fist, turning off the ignition and hopping out of the car.

"Whaddya wanna watch?" He asked as he followed you to the front door.

"You already know." You turned to him, smirking as you unlocked the door and walked inside.

"Right." He giggled, "Classic."

It wasn't long until the both of you were in your room, Kirk sitting on the bed while you put in the VHS for Creature from the Black Lagoon.

"I'm gonna go change real quick," said Kirk as he stood up, grabbing clothes he'd left there before and walking out your room towards the bathroom.

You also quickly got changed into sweats before he returned. Suddenly hearing your door open, you saw Kirk standing there shirtless, holding his shirt up in one hand.

"Have you been wearing this?" He asked, hiding a smile.

"...No." You replied, trying so hard to keep your eyes on his, but you couldn't help when they moved down to his bare torso. He had already taken off all his makeup

"Okay just making sure you're not the one who absolutely drenched this in vanilla perfume."

You cringed. "Sorry. I mean it's your fault for leaving it here." You held your hands up.

He scoffed and went back to finish changing.

He threw the clothes from his costume in one corner of your room, hopping back on the bed as you left for the bathroom too, to wash your makeup off and brush your teeth.

"Alright, you ready?" You questioned, shutting the door to your room and turning off the light, leaving a little lamp on your desk in the corner of your room.

You sat with your back on the headboard, Kirk laying down, his head in the pillows.

When it began playing, you felt Kirk lay his head in your lap and you instinctively began raking your fingers through his hair. He brought up one of his hands to rest on your shin. At this point, you couldn't help but just look at him, his side profile from above, how perfect he was. Like fuck. Why the fuck is he so perfect?

There wasn't a moment of the day in which you didn't think about him. It made you sad sometimes, that he never acknowledged or noticed it. But then again, you weren't really making it obvious either.

But what made all that disappointment go away was that kiss. You were so annoyed that you kept thinking about it.

You thought about what Jocelyn said. About how he looked "so into it" or whatever. It was hard to forget the feeling of his soft plush lips on yours. Goddamn. And the way he held your face, with such gentleness. How he went back in for another like the first one just wasn't enough.

Here you began thinking about kissing him again. Right here, right now. And if it would get intense, what it could lead to... How good he was in that department.

Trying to pay attention to the movie, you clenched your jaw hard, trying not to let yourself think about those things.

No, not with him right there. When he was gone yes, but not now.

Those thoughts didn't give up. The image of him on top of you just popped into your mind. It wasn't your fault. Your mind trailed off thinking about his hand on your leg, if he got up and moved it up to your thighs... How his calloused fingers would feel touching you in all the right places... It felt like only five minutes had passed but the movie was suddenly over.

"Did you enjoy the 87th time of watching that movie?" He asked out of the blue, lifting himself so that his face was at your level.

"Yes, I did." You replied after a moment.

He got off the bed and walked to the little shelf you had with all your VHS tapes. He bought one for you not too long ago, of a movie that had come out earlier this year called 'Alien.'

You had watched it with him in theaters a few months ago and immediately fell in love with it. That Ripley chick was such a badass.

He put that one on, the package still hadn't been opened so this would be your fourth time watching it. You already watched it three times at the movies.

It began playing and he walked back to sit on the bed again, only this time he sat against the headboard, to your left. Of course you had to lay your head on his shoulder otherwise it would feel weird.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, laying his chin on the top of your head, sighing in exhaustion.

Woah, your hair smelled really nice, he noticed.

Now it was Kirk's turn to think about you. That kiss. He had been thinking about it all night since it had happened. It pissed him off that he never thought of you that way and suddenly out of the blue its like all he wanted to do was you. And god, why did he have to go in for another? He thought maybe that gave it all away. Oh but the way you held his hair, god that felt so good. He wanted you to pull his hair and tell him how good he made you feel.

Well shit, Kirk might actually be in love with you too. Hell yeah he's loved you his whole life, but never like this. It's like that kiss opened his eyes or something.

He lifted his head to look at you, just to admire you. You felt this movement and looked back up at him.

Shit, should he say something?

"Is everything okay?" You asked.

He couldn't respond, he opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out. God that was embarrassing... All he thought about was kissing you again. He's never been so obsessed over something so little but here he was.

He wondered if you wanted to kiss him as badly as he wanted to kiss you right now.

"Kirk?" You pulled back a little, "Are you okay?" You asked with sincere concern.

"I wanna kiss you again right now." He didn't hesitate.

You just sat there flabbergasted.

Never in a million years would you have thought to hear those words from Kirk.

"...What?" You felt like you heard him wrong.

"Are you messing wi-"

That's when he cut you off and pressed his lips against yours again.

Pulling back, he watched for your reaction.

All you could do was stare between his eyes and lips.

"That was nice." You finally said.

He just smiled and went back in. This time he held the back of your head and pushed your face against his in order to kiss you harder, your hands lifting to rest on his chest. His head turned, syncing the movement of his lips with yours as his free hand slid down to your thigh, dragging it up and down. He slowly slipped his tongue past your lips, teasing yours as you pushed yours against his.

As your tongues danced, the hand on your thigh moved closer to your core, but it felt wrong to touch you before you said he could. So he moved it to your jaw.

The two of you were finally running out of breath so you finally pulled away.

Neither of you said anything, the only noises in the room were that of the movie and both your heavy breaths.

Kirk had finally caught his breath, "I like you. I like like you. And now I really wanna...Touch you..."

You smiled, "Took you about ten years."

"Ten years...?! What?" he looked at you surprised.

"Kirk," you laughed, "I've liked you this whole time, and you notice now?"

He stared at you in disbelief, his face slowly turning a shade of red.

Just the thought of you constantly having him on your mind turned him on. He looked at your lips again, "Sorry," he said before kissing you again. "My whole life has been a lie..." He joked, smiling, pushing his lips against yours once more, then moving to press kisses on your cheeks. He pecked a trail of small kisses all along your jawline, causing you to giggle, until he licked a stripe along your neck.

His hand moved from your face down to your torso, your heart skipping for a second as he began to kiss all over your neck, searching for that one spot until he reached one and you tensed up a little. That's where he decided to suck and bite at, leaving a quite obvious and visible bruise.

He subtly lifted the hem of your shirt, moving his hand under and finally coming in contact with your bare skin, continuing to peck at your neck.

His hand lightly squeezed your waist as he let out a heavy sigh, leaving lingering kisses on your jaw, moving back to kiss your lips once more.

"Can I?" He whispered, his fingers barely sliding under the waistband of your sweats.

"Yeah." You answered, watching his hand as it moved lower. It was then that you noticed a bulge in his pants, it made your face get hot but you didn't say anything about it.

He purposely made his movements slow, his fingers never quite giving you any relief. He liked to tease. But of course, like all horny teenage boys, he was beginning to get desperate. His fingers found your bundle of nerves and he began to rub small circles over the cloth of your panties.

You let out a heavy sigh, "Is that good enough?" He asked, moving his head up to look at you, making sure he was doing a good job.

"Yeah... Feels good, but... More please.." You breathed heavily in between words.

His hand moved up and his fingers reached under the band of your panties, two of his fingers slowly moving up and down your lips, "You're so wet..." He whispered in excitement, a small smile on his face as if he was surprised.

Finally he pushed his middle finger inside you, slowly pumping in and out until he added another. He began moving a bit faster, curling up into just the right spot, making you to let out a small groan.

"Oh, fuck." You said, your eyes shut in pleasure.

His palm began rubbing against your clit, making your legs slightly come together.

"Does that feel good?" He breathed, watching your face just to make sure once again.

"Yes, fuck yeah... Keep going," you moaned quietly.

The movements in his hand quickened, his eyes still on your face as it contorted into visible pleasure, causing him to softly smile to himself.

You leaned up to kiss him and he sighed into it, his fingers scissoring inside you as he kept pumping them in and out. He pulled away and looked down at his hand only to see it disappearing into your pants.

"I'm gonna stop for a bit, okay?" He said, slowly pulling his fingers out.

"What happened?" You asked nervously as you watched him move off the bed.

He began pulling his shirt over his head, and your legs instinctively parted, "What are you gonna do?" You questioned.

"Do you have condoms...?"

You blushed and quickly got up, "Let me go check," you said as you walked out the door, your knees already a little weak.

Kirk noticed this and laughed.

"Shut up," you said as you walked towards your parents room.

It was a little odd thinking that your parents might have this kind of thing and you would actually die if you found what you were looking for on a different occasion, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You checked your dad's drawers and surprisingly found nothing, so you moved to your moms side and the first thing you saw was exactly what you needed. You grabbed one of the condoms and immediately ran back to your room, closing the door and locking it even if no one would come home.

When you turned around you were met with Kirk sitting on the edge of your bed, propped on his elbows with his head thrown back, waiting for you.

Now there was a very obvious tent in his pants.

"Does this work?" You sat behind him on the bed, holding up the condom as he turned to look at you.

"Yeah..." He leaned in to kiss you again, slowly pushing you to lay back. He lifted himself and helped you take your shirt off, leaving you in your bra and pants.

His pupils dilated, "You're so beautiful," he said as he looked down at your body, leaning up to kiss you for the umpteenth time.

He tugged at the waistband of your pants and pulled them down, you lifted your hips and he was able to pull them all the way off. He then got up and pulled his own off, along with his boxers.

Kirk had a big dick when he was hard. And it was slightly intimidating too.

He leaned back down, keeping one hand free and the other next to your head.

"Will this hurt?" You asked.

He looked at you confused,

"Are you a virgin?"

"No, your dick is just bigger than the others," you replied.

His face got beet red, "Shut the fuck up," he laughed, leaning closer to you and pulling your panties down, inserting his fingers into you once again, making you gasp.

He didn't keep them in for long before pulling them out and bringing his hand down, using your wetness to begin stroking himself. His eyes closed as he sighed.

He opened his eyes again, "Can you open the..." he huffed, "the condom," he asked, watching your hand as you grabbed the small package and ripped it open with your teeth.

"Can you help me put it on?" He looked at you helplessly. He was playing a game and he was good at it.

You moved your hand down and he let go of himself, grabbing onto your wrist as you rolled it on.

It's been so long since you wanted to do this, to have him in your grasp, so you spit on your hand and began slowly jerking him off. He let out a low groan before wrapping his hand around yours and squeezing a little tighter.

Looks like he likes it rough, you thought.

"Oh my fuck, " He whined, shutting his eyes tight and throwing his head back, then leaning down to bury his face into your neck.

Not long passed before he pulled your hand away and huffed, "You ready?" he asked, holding himself closer to you, "Yeah," you answered. Kirk brushed his tip against your entrance, sliding it up and down and smiling at your reactions. He then pushed himself in an inch at a time.

Your jaw fell open along with his, the two of you looking one another in the eyes, your eyes fluttering shut as his own rolled back.

Once he was all the way in, he stopped, moving down to press his lips onto yours.

"You feel so warm..." He breathed.

"Please," you whined, hoping he would understand it was for him to move.

Kirk slowly began pulling out before he pushed back in, slowly picking up his pace until he was thrusting steadily. He bit his lip, trying to suppress a groan you figured. One of his hands brushed down your side, stopping at your thigh to pull it around his waist and give himself more space.

His thrusts got harder before he hit your g-spot. Letting out a low moan, you moved your hands up Kirk's chest and around his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck.

"Kirk," you whimpered and he released a heavy breath as he began to repeatedly hit your sweet spot again.

"Right there," you whispered closing your eyes and grabbing a handful of his hair.

"You're so soft," he sighed. He was slipping in and out fairly easily.

You pulled his hair with one hand, digging your nails into his shoulder blade with the other, causing Kirk to stifle a moan.

Kirk tried going faster, harder, in order to give you the release you needed. He finally let out a high pitched whine, "Fuck," he said with a heavy breath, the sweat already starting to form on both your bodies, his hair sticking to his forehead.

"You—" you cut yourself off with a gasp, "you feel so good," you groaned, tugging harder on his hair.

"Yeah?" He whispered, his exact wish from earlier tonight was actually coming true.

Opening your eyes, you were met with his, gazing at you.

"Hi," you breathed, smiling softly at him.

Kirk slowed down, "Hey," he grinned, leaning down to kiss you once more, his movements coming to a halt.

His lips lingered on yours for a while before he finally pulled back again.

Moving his hand between your bodies, he began rubbing little circles on your clit again before resuming his thrusts. The feeling of his hand along with the movements in his hips caused you to clench around him, squeezing your thighs around his waist.

Kirk weakened at the feeling, his head dropping to your shoulder as his thrusts became sloppy.

"I'm getting close," he whispered next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"Me too," you admitted, running your hands through his hair.

You could feel his burning hot, bare skin sliding against yours. Suddenly your breaths got quicker, your heart rate increased and the coil in your stomach tightened.

"Kirk—" you paused,

"I'm gonna cum," Kirk moaned before you could finish your sentence.

His hips stuttered and he tensed up, finally letting go and relaxing on top of you.

Your back arched as you felt him fill the condom in you, "Kirk please go just a little more," you begged.

He lifted his head to look at you with worry, like he felt he wouldn't be able to do much for you.

Yet he still tried to move, the sensitivity taking over all his senses making a moan escape his throat. His body was quivering along with his movements, "I'm almost there," you said before he released a sigh, continuing his movements. His hand grabbed one of yours, interlocking your fingers and holding it next to your head, squeezing tightly,

"Come on, baby," He groaned, closing his eyes like he was getting dizzy.

Finally you came, your back arching as you clenched around him once again.

Kirk slowed down and finally stopped, "Thank you..." you sighed softly. "Sorry if it was too much."

"That's okay," he smiled up at you, blowing a stray hair from his face, "I told you I'd do anything for you, just say the word. Remember?" he chuckled.

He pulled out slowly before taking off the condom and disposing of it.

Lying next to you, he put his arms around your waist and kissed your cheek, causing you to giggle.

"I love you." He lifted himself to look down at you.

"I love you too, Hammett." you smirked jokingly.

He laughed and plopped back down next to you.

"I can't believe we just had actual sex." He said while staring at the ceiling.

"It sounds odd when you say it like that..." you said as you turned to him, looking at his beautiful profile again.

"Like... I just put my penis inside of you—" You smacked his arm, cutting him off.

"Kirk! Shut up!" You laughed.

He turned to look at you, "I want to be your boyfriend."

You blushed, "...And I wanna be your girlfriend..."

He smiled, a light pink showing on his cheeks.

"But seriously, you tell me that now instead of before you," you held up quotation marks, "put your penis inside of me?"

Kirk let out a loud laugh, holding his hands over his face, "Shut the fuck up."

He sighed, "I love you. Again. Sorry, I don't know how many times I'm gonna say that," he chuckled, looking away a little embarrassed.

"Kirk," you grabbed his face and kissed him, "I love you. You're my best friend. I always have and I always will love you, okay?"

He looked at your lips, "Good," he joked, going back in to kiss you.

Suddenly you heard a scream, the both of you sat up, noticing the alien on the screen of your tv.

"I forgot that was on."

———————

thank you for reading 😙😙

[cafemilk-tea]

Illness

❒ pairing - evelyn x grandmother ft dino

❒ word count - 3.0K

❒ synopsis - evelyn’s grandmother calls her with unfortunate news

❒ time - late 2013

🏷️ taglist - @justmochi @ateezjuliet @itzy-eve @cosmicwintr @billboard-singer @kimhyejin3108 @cixrosie @enhacolor @allthings-fandoms @mingis-wrld @kmgfeels @peachyaeger @aysxldea @choihaneul @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr

⚠️ - mentions of cancer, evie getting a bruise on her arm from a staff member & food restrictions; angst

Italics = spoken in English

(a/n: tears in my eyes thinking of bby evie & bby dino swinging on swings together T_T)

School was let out early for Evelyn and Chan and they had found themselves at the little playground by the school on the swings waiting for a few of his older members to come pick them up and walk them to the company. Evelyn kicked her feet back and forth, humming the words to her evaluation song as she watched random cars drive far off in the distance. Chan giggling to himself pulled her back into reality as she glanced over at him curiously.

“What’s funny?”

“You’ve just been humming that all day long,” Chan covered his mouth with his hands laughing. Evelyn internally cringed with knowing how many people’s hands have been on these swing set chains and now here he was pressing those germs all over his face.

“I’ve got solo evaluations coming up and I’ve been slacking off too much I think,” Evelyn pouted her lips at her words. She was given SNSD’s ‘Genie’ to sing and it’s been a challenge for her, even more so since she’s doing Taeyeon’s part in the post-chorus towards the end of the song.

Chan clicked his tongue as he disagreed with her, pushing himself backwards and letting go to swing back and forth, “Nuh-uh, I’ve heard you sing especially that one part in the song and you sound really good!”

A smile crept its way onto her face as her cheeks heated up slightly at his encouragement, “Thanks Channie.”

The two swang in silence, enjoying small talks between the two of them and people watching. Evelyn always found it fascinating to just sit and watch people in their everyday life and how everyone is so different from one another.

“How’s practice going for you,” Evelyn pushes herself on the swing set, gripping the metal chains tightly between her fingers as she swung herself back and forth deciding to change the subject.

“Awful,” Chan pouted his lips out into a hard frown as he stared at the dirt underneath his feet and slowed down his swinging, “Not awful as in bad but more like it’s just so hard sometimes. I like doing it, I really do, but we got in trouble with one of the staff again and it wasn’t even our fault.”

Evelyn frowned in sympathy at his words, knowing exactly what he was going through. Earlier in the week, one of the staff had grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out into the hallway to berate her by saying she wasn’t keeping up with the other trainees and was too busy slacking off again. The slight bruising on her arm from how hard his hand had gripped her is still a clear and visible mark.

“And Soonyoung-hyung can be mean sometimes too. He keeps making us do the same routine over and over again all because Seungkwan-hyung keeps messing up this one step,” He shuffled his foot in the dirt below, scuffing up the bottom of his already worn shoes from practice.

“Channie-,” Evelyn slowed her swing down to barely moving at all, using her foot to twist her seat from side to side. Being a trainee was hard in general. It made her question why she even wanted to do it sometimes.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean to make you upset-.” She started but was cut off by his outburst.

“He doesn’t care!” He huffed kicking the dirt making dust particles fly into the air. Evelyn couldn’t blame him for getting angry over it. She’s been there once or twice since becoming a trainee. His face turned sour as the frown sank deeper into his face, “Anytime I ask if we can learn something else, he gets mad and storms away and slams the door behind him yelling things like ‘If we get a low score, it’ll be your fault’.”

Evelyn stayed quiet and let him have time to get what he wanted off of his chest. She knows that he can’t blow up like this with his members since they’re all older, and that’s why the two of them are so close with being the only two youngest in the company.

After a moment of silence passed between the two of them, Chan let out a deep breath as he turned towards Evelyn in his seat.

“Eunji, I’m sorry I got angry-,” She looked over at him as he sucked on the inside of his cheek, “It’s just hard and it’s hard to talk to the hyungs about it when they’re all on the same page about most things.”

“It’s okay Channie,” Evelyn looked down at her shoes with a smile, nodding in agreement, “That’s why we have each other! We have to stick together through this right? It’s the only way we can make it through.”

“You’re right!”

“Soonyoung-Oppa is trying his hardest, you all are,” She tried to reason, wanting to keep the topic open to talk Chan through what she was also thinking, “He wants you guys to be so successful one day and I know you guys work really hard and I’m rooting for you to have a great debut in the future.”

Evelyn’s words made a big grin break across Chan’s face, his anger from before seemingly vanished at the mention of his group, “You’re gonna debut so big too! How cool is it that our groups are gonna debut? We’ll have to collab on a stage in the future!”

“That’ll be so much fun!” Evelyn gushed as they went back to swinging, waiting on Chan’s older members to arrive.

“Ugh I’m starving,” Chan drops his head down as his stomach rumbles with hunger, using his feet to push himself backwards on the swing again before letting himself swing forward, “Where are the hyungs anyway? This is so annoying, they said they’d be here by now.”

“I’m sure they’ll be here soon.” Evelyn tried to sound hopeful even though she was growing quite hungry as well. On the occasion, Chan’s older members would secretly buy the two of them a snack and they ate it on the way to the company, making sure to take the long way back so they had time to finish the food.

Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek as an idea popped into her head, quickly standing up from her seat and crouching down by her backpack. Chan watched curiously as she unzipped the main pocket and dug around for a few moments before grinning back at him. She raised her arm high in the sky and he followed her movements, jumping off of the swing when he noticed the money in her hand.

“Where did you even get that?” His eyes grew in size as she brought her hand down so the two of them could inspect the money closely. It was only a few dollars worth but it was more than she thought she had.

“Minji-Unnie gave me some money for-,” She used her fingers to air quote, mimicking Minji’s lower voice, “-For emergencies only.”

“I consider this a dire emergency.”

“Remember the last time though, the company found out we were eating and scolded us to no end.” Evelyn frowned at the memory. She never liked being in trouble and ever since moving to Korea, it felt like that’s all she seemed to do.

“If we eat it here we should be fine,” Chan tried to reason with her, his stomach rumbling in hunger again and Evelyn’s right after, almost like they were talking to each other. She hesitated at first but nodded her head in agreement. Chan looked behind them, pointing down the street at the convenience store on the corner.

“I can grab us a ramen and we can share it so it won’t be too much food, any requests?”

“Mmm, make it a surprise,” She grinned as she handed the money over to the antsy boy, a laugh falling from her lips as she watched him speed walk down the road to the convenience store.

Walking back to her seat on the swing set, she rocked back and forth on her heels again, going back to her people and car watching. The sound of her phone ringing broke her out of her trance, reaching over and grabbing her phone. The brightness in her eyes matched the excitement in her voice when she saw who was calling her.

“Hiya Gram,” She pressed the phone to her ear, holding onto the swing by its metal chains with her other hand.

“Hello my Sweet Pea.”

She could honestly cry after hearing her Grandmother’s voice after she hadn’t in such a long time. As trainees, they weren’t given many opportunities to speak to their loved ones and if they were, they were always heavily monitored by the staff. The female trainees were allowed back their phones for having such good evaluations last month so of course she was elated that her grandmother had decided to call now.

“Are you having lunch now? Don’t tell me you snuck out of class to talk to me young lady,” Her motherly tone caused Evelyn to bust out into a fit of giggles picturing the look of concern on her face. Evelyn shook her head even though she knew she couldn’t see it.

“Of course not! School ended early today and Channie and I went to the little playground next door. You remember Lee Chan right? One of the male trainees from my company that’s my age?” Evelyn twisted her head to look down the road to see if Chan was coming back, settling back on the swing when she saw no sight of him.

“I do remember you telling me about him, he’s a little cutie,” Her grandmother hummed on the other side of the line. Evelyn could hear the faintness of water running and knew that she was outside watering her flowers in the back garden. “How has your training been going? Are they treating you well?”

“Good actually! We’ve got our evaluations next week and I’ve been practicing on a song for that and we’ve also been doing a lot of stuff with the group!” Evelyn’s face lit up at mentioning her group. She loves those girls and even though she was the youngest of them, she would do anything and everything for them. She glanced down at her arm and decided to omit the part about the staff grabbing her, knowing that her grandmother would’ve been on the first flight out to Korea to come give them hell.

“I’m glad to hear it,” She could hear her grandmother smile into the phone, the sound of the hose shutting off in the background indicating she was down watering her flowers, “I can’t wait to meet the girls, they sound like such lovely people. Are you excited to be a group?”

“Well, we’re not technically a group yet. New trainees can be added at any time but-,” The memory of the girls meeting for the first time and everyone acting like they had known each other for years and how welcoming everyone was instantly flooded her mind, “Yeah, I am super excited!”

“I was worried about sending you out there by yourself but it seems to me like you’re in good hands,” Her grandmother makes a pause, taking in a deep breath as she gathers up her thoughts, “Sweet Pea, I’ve got to talk to you about something, something really important.”

“Hmm?” Evelyn frowned slightly at the sudden change of her tone. She was always such a cheerful and positive lady that whenever her voice shifted into this more serious side, she knew something had to be up.

“I know you were too young to remember this but a long time ago during one of my doctor appointments, they had found little masses on one of my lungs and I had went through some treatments to have them removed,” She paused to let Evelyn understand what she was saying, “Well, I just came back from an appointment yesterday and I’m going to go ahead and tell you that it was not the best of news.”

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Evelyn’s eyebrows pinched together in confusion, resting her head against the metal chain of the swing trying to process what was being said to her. She dragged her foot back and forth through the dirt waiting on a response back. Her poor white school shoes now the faintest shade of beige.

“Sweet Pea, there’s no easier way to tell you this-,” She hesitated on the other side of the phone, taking in a deep breath and letting it out, “The doctors have discovered a form of cancer growing in my right lung. It’s small but it was big enough that they were able to detect it.”

Tears welled up in Evelyn’s eyes as she bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering, “D-Do I need to fly home? I-I think if I ask the company they’ll let me-.”

“Don’t you even think about it,” Her grandmother’s voice was soft yet firm, stopping Evelyn from speaking, “You stay there, I’ll be okay here Sweet Pea. The doctor is confident that we can keep it under control with treatment to ensure that I can keep on going like I always have been, okay?”

A single tear traveled down her cheek slowly as she sat in silence, the words from her grandmother sinking in one by one. Her grandmother has….cancer? Why now, why here, why at all? It felt like she was being hit with a thousand bricks all at once with this news.

“B-But you’ll be alone.”

“Sweet Pea, I’ve got plenty of support here,” Her grandmother reasoned with her. Her support system consisted only of her best friend, who Evelyn had grown to call Auntie June, living a few doors down from their house. Evelyn pulled the phone away briefly so she could choke back on a struggling to escape cry, not wanting to worry her grandmother anymore that she probably was. She always hated whenever Evelyn was upset at any point in time no matter what the situation was.

“It’s getting late out here Sweet Pea. It’s the weekend tomorrow right and then you’re off for a few days, I’ll give you a call then okay?” Evelyn could tell that her grandmother was getting tired from the yawning that she was struggling to hold onto, “I love you so much Sweet Pea, to the moon and back again.”

Evelyn hesitated, her bottom lip tucked in between her teeth as she nodded even though she knows that she wouldn’t be able to see it, “I love you too, to the moon and back again.” She managed to sniffle before her finger clicked the line dead and that’s when she dropped her head, clutching her phone to her chest.

“Eunji, guess who I ran into coming out of the store-,” Chan’s laugh echoed around the stone wall but was cut short when he saw the state of Evelyn. She couldn’t bring herself to look up from where she was staring blankly at the ground when the cluster of boys rushed closer to the swing set. A figure was quick to crouch down in front of her and he hesitated before grabbing her hand in his much larger one.

“Eunji-ah, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol rubbed his thumb gently across the rough skin of her knuckles. She kept her gaze down at the dirt as a shallow breath got caught in her throat, another set of droplets fell from her eyes and splashed down onto the skirt of her uniform.

Seungcheol looked back at where Chan and Jun were off to the side with a slight frown, Chan clutched the grocery bag in his hands, moving his shoulders up into a shrug as the unsettling feeling started to set in. She was all happy and smiley before he had left and now it’s the complete opposite. Jun had moved forward until he was just behind Evelyn, a small touch to her back to let her know that he was there. He didn’t know her to the same lengths that Seungcheol or Chan did, but he cared for her just as much as he did his own members.

A moment of silence passed between the small group, the only sounds being made were those of passing by cars on the road or the subtle sniffles Evelyn was letting out trying her best not to break down. The three boys looked around at each other, Seungcheol looking down at his watch seeing that it was inching closer and closer towards practice time. He went against his brain telling them to start heading towards the company, deciding that this was way more important and he would take the heat later for all of them being late. It wasn’t until a quiet voice broke them out of the silence, bringing their attention back onto Evelyn.

“I wanna go home.”

Seungcheol readjusted the pressure on his knees from crouching, gripping her shaking hand a little tighter, “Eunji-ah? I can take you back to the dorm if-”

But she shook her head quickly, cutting Seungcheol off from speaking any further. Evelyn bit the inside of her cheek as she couldn’t hide the whimper in her voice any longer. The tears streamed freely down her cheeks as she looked up at him for the first time since he had arrived in front of her, watery brown eyes meeting his worried ones.

“I wanna go home Oppa,” Evelyn choked out a sob before falling off the swing and into Seungcheol’s arms, knocking him backwards onto the dirt. She wrapped her hands tightly around his torso before burying her face into the crease of his neck, tears soaking through his shirt. Seungcheol held onto her tight, sharing a look with his members full of concern and worry for what’s happened to her.

[writingforfishes]

Hicvember: 2+ and Induced (adjacently)

I'm cheating a little bit on this. I've actually had this story started since the 30th of October. That's not the cheating part. I noticed it indicates induction, but not directly. But I'm counting it!

Fandom: Gr4vity F4lls Featuring: F0rd, St4n, D1pper, M4bel, S0os, and Mel0dy

CW:

old men hiccuping

fast hiccups

hard hiccups

brothers hiccuping together

NOT TWINCEST!

children present briefly

childhood traumas mentioned

unconventional curing method?

hiccups being a metaphor and such

very safe for work

not really a hiccup kink fic if you look at it from the outside

no kinky bits at all

just old man twins getting the hiccups together like babies

F0rd and St4n had returned from the first year of their adventures on the St4n O’ War II. Much growth had been made between them. Many long (boring, as St4n would amend rolling his eyes) conversations had been shared between their discovery of more Cryptids. Many reflections were made. It was all very adult, and tears had been shed, not that St4n would admit to having emotions past the security of his loud personality.

Now they both settled back into their rooms in the Shack. When summer arrived D1pper and M4bel, both going on 14 now and full of horror stories of being teenagers, came to stay at the Shack as well forcing F0rd and St4n to share a room.

S0os had also moved in when St4n turned over ownership to him. M3lody had made the move to Gr4vity F4lls a month before St4n and F0rd had returned. It was a full house, to say the least. But there was some comfort in the extra bodies who inhabited the humble space, though St4n would never admit it. It felt like ‘family’. St4n cringed at the idea. ‘Family’ to him had never been a particularly positive experience.

This all being said, all six of the dwellers now crowded the kitchen. S0os was making breakfast for everyone as the older twins sat at the table. St4n was reading a physical newspaper, the funnies, while F0rd scribbled in the journal he’d started while they were asea.

D1pper and M4bel entered the kitchen and, just as St4n had assumed, the kid went straight for his brother when he saw F0rd writing. He was preparing himself for the gushing and technical talk D1pper and F0rd often devolved into when M4bel showed up with a picture she shoved into his lap.

“What you got there, kiddo?” he asked as he held the picture away from him so he could see it better.

“I drew you and Grvnkle F0rd on your trip! See? That’s Grvnkle F0rd steering the ship and there you are!” she said enthusiastically.

Even when she wasn’t yelling M4bel was inexplicably loud. St4n covertly turned down his hearing aids to prevent them from giving feedback.

“Am I...why am I puking a glitter rainbow?” St4nd asked, gruffly.

He heard his brother snort from his and D1pper’s discussion. St4n gave him a half-hearted glare.

“Cauuuuse,” M4bel said leaning over St4n’s lap. “You got glitter rainbows inside!”

M4bel poked his belly enthusiastically with a chuckle. “Boop!”

“Ow! No I don’t. I’ve got coffee inside! And if you keep poking it that hard, kid, it’s not gonna be rainbows or glitter coming out!” St4n exclaimed.

“No, silly! I mean metaphorically. You’re like a mean bulldog on the outside but on the inside you’re all...colorful and warm and fuzzy,” M4bel insisted.

“She’s right on that one, Mr. P1nes,” S0os piped up. “You’re pretty rough on the outside, but gooey and sweet on the inside. Kinda like cannoli! Oooh, I should make cannoli’s tomorrow!”

“You really should!” M3lody said. “You’re my cannoli…”

“Hee, hee. With chocolate chips?” S0os asked, blushing.

“Mmhmm,” M3lody said, and they kissed.

“Awww!” M4bel cooed.

“Ew, seriously? You’re ruining my appetite. Keep that schmutz to yourselves!” St4n said before turning back to M4bel.

“Yeah,” he said, “but why does F0rd look all heroic and I’m puking off the side of the boat. That never happened! I was heroic and brave too!”

F0rd snorted again as he drank his coffee but then another sound interrupted him and St4n’s eyes widened.

“Oh no. Not again! Keep those to yourself, bud!” St4n said pointing a finger accusingly at his brother.

“Keep what to yourself?” D1pper asked, looking up from his excited reading of F0rd’s ship journal.

F0rd’s body jumped again and a modest “hic!” made it’s way out for a second time.

“His hiccups. Every time…” St4n said gritting his teeth and started muttering under his breath. “It’s all in my head. It’s all psychiatric…”

“Psychhup!-psychological St4nhmp!ley!” F0rd said.

“Whatever! I’m not gonna get ‘em this time!” St4n demanded.

“There’s no rehimp!-reason why you shhmp!-should!” F0rd responded, struggling as the hiccups started picking up the way they often did.

“Whaaat is happening?” M4bel asked looking from one grunkle to the other.

St4n rubbed his chest with a grunt, refusing to answer as he focused on willing his diaphragm to stay calm.

“Wait,” D1pper said as he picked up on the context. “Do you guys both—”

“HUCK! Crap!” St4nd said, inadvertently interrupting his nephew.

“—get the hiccups at the same time?!” D1pper said, amusement building.

“Oh. My. Gawd!” M4bel yelled. “They doooo!”

“That’s precious!” M3lody said.

“Holy crap, seriously? You both have the hiccups at the same time? Dude. Maybe we should film this!” S0os said grinning while he held up his spatula.

“You’re not HUCK’M!-filming anything HULP!, S0os!” St4n said.

“Awww, Grvnkle St4n. It’s okay. Me and D1pper used the get them at the same time too...when we were BABIES!” M4bel said, laughing.

D1pper couldn’t help but join in snorting laughter with his sister.

“Okay HLMK! Okay! I’m HUCK!-out!” St4n said and stood up, taking his paper and coffee with him to the living room to watch TV and hopefully drown out his own hiccups. “This is HUCK’L!-your fault F-HERK! F0rd!”

F0rd just shook his head and watched his brother retreat.

It had been fifteen minutes and somehow F0rd had escaped D1pper’s inquisition to find solace in the basement where the portal had been. D1pper hadn’t seemed to mind about F0rd’s or St4nley’s hiccups, but M4bel had been hellbent on curing them. As a result, the scientist had managed to slip out without being noticed.

He felt a little guilty leaving his brother there to be subjected to every cure M4bel could conjure in that endlessly creative brain of hers, but F0rd found that he had even less tolerance to the boisterousness and attention of social interaction than he had when he was younger. Add to that some good old fashion trauma and being stuck in a portal for several decades and his natural introversion led to some pretty expert level evading skills.

It wasn’t hard to notice St4nley’s presence as his brother’s hiccups echoed before he caught sight of him. For the most part F0rd didn’t mind his own hiccups. But they did get a little fast sometimes, causing him to have to measure his breathing. St4n’s hiccups, on the other hand, sounded like they hurt though his brother claimed they didn’t.

“You finally hup!-finally got hup!-got away?” F0rd asked as he looked up from his journal.

“Yeah, kids got HUCK’M!-tired of tryin’ t—to cure me. HULMPK! Figured I’d find you dHOK!own here!” he said as he pat his chest over his white a-line undershirt. “Ugh. I don’t understHUCK!-St4nd why every time you get ‘em HUH! I get—get ‘em!”

“Be—been that way sihip!-since we hu’up!-we were ki—ids!” F0rd noted. He rubbed his own chest as his hiccups seemed to quicken all the more in his twin’s presence. “Some kup!-kind of emp—empathetic resphock!sponse! Or—” he paused as a couple of silent hiccups jerked his body and halted his speech, “Or echohup!praxia. Mirror neuhup!-neutrons. Hmk! Like yawns. Hmp!”

F0rd groaned, closing his book. He rubbed his eyes from underneath his glasses.

“Yeah HUCK’L! They’re wearHIC!-wearin’ me out, too! HNGK! Ugh!” St4n agreed with F0rd’s non-verbal sentiment.

St4n sat next him heavily and ran his hand over the back of his neck as another hiccup burst from his chest and caused his head to fling back.

The Portal had long since been dismantled. Some circuitry was in pieces, but most had been crated up. But there was still a table and chairs remaining. The furniture was the only real evidence of what had occurred. It was odd for St4n to see the place look so empty after he’d spent 30 years using every moment he could get trying to figure out how to get his brother back. He idly scratched the branding on the back of his shoulder, body thrown again with another powerful hiccup.

F0rd watched him, not missing the gesture and the significance of where St4n had touched.

“One th—thing I never hup!-never under—understood,” F0rd said interrupting the staccato of their hiccups.

“That’s a HUCK’AH!-rarity! What’s that? ULP!” St4n asked.

“Why are yup!-your hiccups so himp!-loud?” F0rd wondered. The question was obviously rhetorical or, at the very least, unimportant and inconsequential. Still, when having a sibling, saying what you were thinking without a filter seemed to happen naturally.

“You mean HUCK’M!-why don’t I hicHIGGA!hiccup like a puUCK!-pussy?” St4n shot back with a smirk.

F0rd guffawed with a surprise laugh that did nothing to help his hiccups. St4n grinned back.

“Sorry HUCK’L! Gotta make UCK!-up for lo—lost time busting your HUCK!-chops,” St4n said with a chuckle.

“Thouup!-Thought the ti—time on the St4n hup! St4n O’ War tu-hup! II was enough!” F0rd said with a smile.

“Yeah, but I can't cuHUP!-cuss up there!” St4n insisted, pointing up to where the rest of the house dwellers were.

“Fair enough,” F0rd replied. Then he covered his mouth with his fist as he rode through a number of hiccups in a row, frowning as they kept coming. Hmp!hmp!hmk!hmp’m!hmp’m!mp!mp!hup!

When the fit passed, he felt St4n’s hand on his back. The scientist shook his head in frustration.

“I hate when they c—come back huck!-back to b—back like that,” he said as he put his hand on his stomach.

“I take it HUCK!-back. Mine might be HUCK’M!-louder but UH’HUCK!-at least I can breathe,” St4n said.

For a few more minutes they shared another companionable silence with their hiccups. St4n found his hand on is stomach, holding it there as it jerked powerfully. His body pressed into the back of the chair with every hiccup.

F0rd propped his hand on his head as he endured more clusters of less violent but just as annoying hiccups.

“You wann—wanna do the thimp!-thing?” F0rd said, his speech uncharacteristically casual. He looked over the top rim of his glasses at his brother.

“What thHIUK!thing?” St4n said.

F0rd wordlessly indicated with his hand to each of their stomachs. It took a while for St4n to underSt4nd but once he did his eyes widened in memory.

“Oh. ReHEEK!eally? We haven’t HUCK!-uh, don—done that since we H’MUCK!-were kids!” he said incredulously.

F0rd shrugged in response. The truth was despite them having had a few cases of hiccups on the boat it usually hadn’t lasted this long and if he was getting sore and tired, he could imagine St4nley was as well.

“You thiHIP’K!-think that woHUNK’L!-uh, would work?” he asked.

F0rd shrugged again, noncommittal.

“They’re stERK!-starting to hurt me ULK!-too,” St4n finally confided. To be honest, his whole back had started to hurt. Hiccups at his and F0rd’s age were not for the faint of heart, he decided.

“Though sohup!-so,” F0rd said.

F0rd reached out a six-fingered hand to St4n’s stomach and St4n sighed dramatically, chest jumping sharply with another loud hiccup as his belly bounced. St4n reached out for F0rd’s midsection trying not to be too jealous of how less jiggly F0rd’s was than his own.

F0rd had always had a slimmer physique than St4n. Whether it was because he was just more genetically inclined than St4n to not store fat in his midsection or that F0rd often forgot to eat, St4n noticed their size difference as they hit puberty and beyond. Sometimes he didn’t care. Other times, it got to him. But ultimately, he couldn’t care less about the way his body naturally carried weight. Hell, that’s why they invented girdles, right?

As their hands crossed to lay on each other’s abdomens F0rd nodded.

“We hav—have to match hup!-match our bre—breaths, remember? In hup!-and out,” F0rd said.

“Yeah HYUK!-uh, I remember. HMMK! Damn,” St4n said and blew air out as he placed his other hand on his chest.

St4n focused on the movement of F0rd’s stomach against his hand and tried to mimic his intakes of breath between both of their hiccups. Then he squirmed thinking about how this hiccup cure would look to anyone walking in on them.

“By the HI’UCK! way, this HULMPK!-uh, this doesn’t le-HEEK!-eave this room, de—eal?” St4n said gesturing to the awkwardness he perceived in F0rd and his current position.

“Of co-hup!hup!-course St4nley. Hip! That w-uh!-as assumed. This lo-oop!hup!-looks weird. Ev—even to me. And I was hup! I hup! I was in a two hmp! di—mension—al universe!” F0rd exclaimed.

“Ain’t that th-HUCK!-the flat HU’UP! truth!” St4n joked.

F0rd’s face cracked in a rare grin, and he laughed.

“D—don—n’t y-hup!-our hip! mak—ing them wo-erk!-rse!” he said amidst chuckles.

“Sorry HUCK! Just HI’ILP! like seein’ y-HAH! laugh! And suffer a bit HNNGK! Ow!” St4n exclaimed, rubbing his chest again.

“Ser—erves you ri-ip!-ight,” F0rd snarked.

“Yeah HUCK’L! I know,” St4n sighed.

Wordlessly the brothers started syncing their breaths again. Memories flashed in both of their minds of the times in their youth where F0rd had started hiccuping and St4n had started, and they both secluded themselves until it ended. St4n, specifically, remembered something that had him frowning more than usual. But he waited until the thumps from his brother’s stomach and his own trailed away after a minute or so before bringing it up.

“Oh, that’s better,” F0rd said taking in a deep breath.

“Yeah…” St4n replied, distracted. “Um. You remember when you got them in front of dad that one time? Like, I think it was the first time I remember us having them together, actually.”

F0rd frowned.

“Um, maybe?” he replied. He was honestly having a hard time bringing up the memory. He picked idly at his second pinky with the fingers of the other hand.

“It was at dinner. I remember cause dad didn’t give us pop all that often and so you drank it a little too fast, maybe? I dunno. Anyway, you had them pretty bad. Dad was yelling at you. I guess he was in a mood. I mean, when was he not, right? So, I...I took up my pop and gave myself the hiccups, too. So, he’d...he’d yell at me, instead. I didn’t like when he yelled at you. Made me feel like I-I dunno. Kinda like it was unfair? Never really thought of that.

“Anyway,” St4n continued, “it worked! My hiccups were way louder, and I was burping and stuff, too. But I guess...I guess I always tried to protect you from him in a way. You were...I mean I know you’re not...but back then you seemed more sensitive or some shit. So, I took it. I took all the heat. Cause I knew even back then I wasn’t...you know...like you...cause you were smart and...anyway. I figure that’s why I get the hiccups when you do. Maybe it’s, like, something like that. Ugh, hanging out with you’s got me thinking like that.”

F0rd took a moment to answer his brother. Sadness had settled on his eyes, but his mouth set firm.

“That makes sense, St4nley. You always tried to protect me, even when you didn’t have to. In some ways, a lot of ways, I took that for granted. I never saw you as vulnerable. And you never thought you could tell me if something was bothering you. So, when you accidentally broke my science fair project, I never considered you’d done it out of anything but spite. But now I know you needed me, and I was leaving. You weren’t able to tell that to me. Dad just…egged us on,” F0rd said with a sigh.

“Yeah, good ole’ dad really fucked us up, huh?” St4n said.

“I am sorry—” F0rd started.

“C’mon, F0rd, we already did that!”

“I know. But I am. My hubris may have been encouraged by our father, but the lengths I took my desire to be accepted and validated were mine. For the role I played in our separation, I apologize. Sincerely,” F0rd said.

“Yeah. Well. Same, I guess. I fucked up our relationship just as much as you did. And my life. All ‘cause the old man said I wasn’t worth shit and I was gonna prove him wrong,” St4n said.

“St4nley, I think between the two of us opening an inter-dimensional rift and making a deal with a demon who tried to destroy our reality is probably a little more damaging than screwing people over with cheap products and stealing,” the writer said.

“It ain’t a competition, bud. Trust me. I did more than my fair share of bad stuff. Hell, I’m the one who re-opened that rift and started the whole thing…”

“To save me,” F0rd reminded him.

“Nah, I just wanted to get a second punch in, poindexter!” he said pushing at F0rd’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah,” F0rd said, the New Jersey accent he’d fought against his entire life coming out in a rare moment.

“That me?” St4n asked of the drawing F0rd was making in his journal.

F0rd looked at the drawing and faced it toward his brother with a nod.

“Dude, look at me! That makes me look like a twig! Put some meat in there. I’m not shameful. I know I got pudge!”

F0rd laughed, “You’re not that fat, St4nley!”

“Please! I’m a...what do you call ‘em...BBW?”

F0rd laughed harder, shaking his head.

“That St4nds for Big Beautiful Woman,” F0rd exclaimed.

“Oh. Well, the other one, then. BBM...wait, no, that sounds like I’m a bowel movement. I mean, I know I’m a piece of shit sometimes…”

“St4nley!” F0rd laughed again.

St4n just smiled and watched his brother take off his glasses and wipe his eyes.

“Think S0os looks good in the hat?” St4n asked, keeping the conversation going.

“I think our father would be rolling in his grave,” F0rd said.

“Good…”

They continued talking until St4n’s stomach told them it was time to eat. Every moment spent with each other healed another moment of shared trauma. Every hiccup they had growing up was slowly being cured. It might never be okay or forgivable, their past sins, but it was still something they were able to love each other through.

All-in-all, they had it pretty good.

[lady-wallace]

Whumptober Day 7: Only for Emergencies

More Obey Me! for today's @whumptober fic

Prompts: Only for emergencies, magic with a cost, 'it's us or them' Fandom: Obey Me! Nightbringer Character: Barbatos

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Read on Ao3

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Only for Emergencies

Solomon abuses his pact with Barbatos and leaves the prince’s butler with injuries that should have been his. (Protagonist POV)

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“Remind me never to agree to go on a mission with you again.”

“Come on, Helena, as my apprentice, I need to show you the ropes, right?” Solomon’s laugh was cavalier. Not the sound someone should be making when we were trapped in a crawl space, being hunted by a giant snake, and all because my master decided he needed some specialty items and wanted to drag me along on his very much not a normal shopping trip.

“At least count it as a learning experience?” the sorcerer shrugged.

I glowered at him. “Only if you will. I was the one who said we should go the other way, but you insisted this was the right path and look where we are now.”

“Look, it’s been a while since I’ve been down here, okay? I got a little turned around.” He looked around, searching our surroundings. “Hey, what’s that back there?”

I cringed as he scraped past me in the small space, pressing myself as firmly back against the stone wall as I could. Solomon climbed onto some rubble gathered at the back of the tunnel and started moving rocks out of the way before he waved a hand at me.

“Get back, I’m going to try to blast through.”

I hurried as far back to the entrance as I could, shielding my face and covering my ears as the blast shook through the tiny space.

Solomon hacked on the dust, staggering to his feet. As I straightened, I could feel cooler air on my face.

“We’re through, come on.” He offered me a hand and helped me over the rubble through the hole he’d made.

Leaving us right in the middle of a nest of beasts.

I stared in horrified silence for a long moment as the creatures too, seemed surprised by our presence. Giant bug-like creatures and the snake from earlier began to converge on is.

“This is seriously the last time I ever go anywhere with you,” I snarled as I started to form a protective barrier around myself.

I didn’t finish it in time for the snake to strike at me, flinging me across the room where I skidded painfully into a wall.

Solomon created a flare of magic that pushed the monsters back before he sprinted in my direction.

“We need to run.”

“Yeah no shit, Solomon!” I gasped as I reached for the hand he offered to pull me to my feet.

A giant scorpion scrambled from the left, swinging its tail angrily.

“Solomon, watch—”

I wasn’t able to get the warning out in time. Solomon turned, readying a spell, but before he could finish, the barbed tail buried itself in his middle.

Solomon choked as he was suspended on the end of the barb for a second before the creature flung him across the room.

“Solomon!” I shouted as I pushed myself back to my feet and made a flare of light to ward off the approaching creatures before running to the injured sorcerer.

He had pushed himself into a sitting position, one hand clasped over the wound. I could see blood seeping worryingly from between his fingers but we didn’t have time to see to it at the moment. I grabbed his arm and hauled him upright as he groaned in protest.

“You might have the worst bedside manner I’ve ever seen, Helena.”

“We’re literally about to die,” I snapped. “And if I remember correctly, those things’ venom temporarily muzzles any magical ability—I’m sure that’s the case for even a ‘great sorcerer’ like yourself.”

“No need to be so sarcastic,” Solomon grunted, coughing slightly. “You are correct, but fear not, my dear apprentice, I have certain emergency clauses written into all my pacts for moments just like this.”

I frowned, admittedly a little worried as to just what he had planned. “What kind of emergency clauses?”

“We don’t have time to discuss details! Just hold them off while I get this working.”

I didn’t have another option but to trust him at the moment and readied another spell.

Solomon pulled up his sleeve and drew a symbol over the tattoos on his arm with his own blood. The mark started to glow and I watched with shock as the blood stopped leaking from his wounds—even the scrapes on his face healed. He huffed a breath of relief.

“How—?”

“Don’t worry about the how, just that we’re getting out of here,” he said and held out his hand. “Now, one more distraction from you, Helena, to keep them occupied, and then I should be ready to teleport us out of here. Grab my hand.”

I did as I sent off another blast and by the time the light faded, Solomon’s teleportation spell was already in effect as everything melted away into brief darkness.

***

Barbatos poured a cup of tea and placed it at Diavolo’s elbow along with a small plate of selected pastries.

“Is there anything else I can get for you right now, young master?” he asked.

“This is perfect, thank you,” the prince replied, frowning slightly at the papers in front of him, chin propped on one fist.

Barbatos smiled slightly. “My Lord, I also would like to remind you the answers to these proposals will be due by tomorrow.”

Diavolo huffed a long sigh. “I’m aware. It just feels like that’s all I’ve been doing lately.”

“Well, young master, starting a successful school means you’ll have a lot of people coming to you with their ideas—not all of them good, granted, but…”

Barbatos paused. The unmistakable tingle of magic running up his spine. His face instantly clouded. That insolent sorcerer, was he really trying to call on him—

A dull ache suddenly started to form in Barbatos’s belly, as if he had stupidly eaten something said sorcerer had made, but…

There was a damp feeling soaking into his coat and as he pressed a hand there, his glove was soaked red when he pulled it away.

“Barbatos?” Diavolo inquired, turning toward him with a frown. “Is everything okay?”

The butler clenched his hand to hide the blood. “My apologies, young master, there is something I—” He choked on something bubbling up in his throat and clapped a hand over his mouth in mortification.

“Barbatos are you well?” Diavolo demanded, pushing his chair back.

Barbatos stepped back, trying to wave him away. “Do not concern yourse—ugh.” Speaking brought on an agonizing coughing fit forcing him to double over, bracing himself against the corner of the desk.

“Barbatos!” Diavolo sounded terrified as he grabbed his butler’s shoulder to steady him and finally saw the blood staining his gloves. “What in Devildom is going on?”

Barbatos fought to get his breath and gently extricated himself from Diavolo’s grasp as he managed hoarsely, “Do not concern yourself, young master, just give me a moment. If you’ll excuse me.”

He started his retreat of the room when his legs simply gave out under him and he reached for the bookcase, slowing his descent as he crumpled. Darkness started to cloud his vision and Diavolo’s concerned shouts faded as he began to cough up blood uncontrollably.

***

It was impossible to tell where we ended up at first. Solomon and I came out of the teleportation spell in a heap on the floor somewhere. I was actively trying not to vomit—that had been the roughest trip I had ever had.

“Helena? Solomon, what—?”

I pushed myself up and saw we had somehow landed in Diavolo’s study. The prince was standing there staring at us in confusion.

“Of course—you insolent, insufferable sorcerer. How dare you?”

I glanced behind Diavolo to see Barbatos. To my shock, he was slumped against the bookcase and there was blood on his lips and soaking into his usually pristine gloves.

“Barbatos!” I cried, shoving myself upright to rush toward him. My nausea was instantly replaced with alarm. His body shuddered in an aborted cough and I took his face between my hands. “What happened?”

“Ask the despicable sorcerer,” Barbatos quipped before he smothered a wet cough in his hand and doubled over.

I looked down and saw the front of his uniform soaked a dark red. I unbuttoned his coat and pulled it open, following with his shirt until I found the large puncture wound in his stomach. “My god, Barb,” I gasped, ripping my coat off to press against the wound before I spun around toward Solomon.

“What did you do?” I demanded.

“I saved our lives,” the sorcerer said simply.

“And you didn’t think to tell me it was Barbatos’s contract you were using?”

“You would never have let me do it if I had, and it was the only one that would have been any good to me in the moment. That injury kept me from performing magic so I had to get rid of it. I’m sorry it had to be like this, but Barbatos was aware of the clause.”

“For emergency, only,” Barbatos growled. “And even then, while, yes, I was aware of the clause, you put it in without my consent.”

I was too furious to speak. I concentrated on stopping the blood flowing from Barbatos’s—Solomon’s—wound as Diavolo put two and two together.

“Hold on, you’re telling me you got into a predicament, were injured, and then thought you could simply transfer your injury to my butler?”

“I deeply apologize for the injuries, my lord,” Solomon said with a bow.

“You realize I could count this as an attack on me—treason, even!” Diavolo snapped.

“My lord,” Barbatos croaked. “As…despicable as the action was, it was, regrettably, part of our contract, and therefor nothing strictly illegal occurred.”

Diavolo did not look happy about that but the worry behind his eyes won out. “We’ll discuss this later. Let’s get Barbatos looked after.”

“Yes,” I said firmly. “We’ll need something to carry him on.”

“Unnecessary,” Barbatos tried but Diavolo shook his head.

“You can’t walk to your room in that condition. I’ll call the physician.”

I stayed crouched beside Barbatos, keeping pressure on his wound until the doctor and one of his assistants came with a stretcher. I stepped back to let them get Barbatos onto it and watched them carry him out with Diavolo in tow before I spun on Solomon.

“What the hell, Solomon?” he demanded.

He held his hands up. “Helena, listen, this isn’t anything Barbatos can’t take. He’s a lot heartier than you or I—”

“Stop right there,” I cut in, fury boiling up in me, threatening to reach an explosive conclusion. “Do you think it would make any difference to me if you had transferred a scraped knee to him instead of the wound you got when you were impaled by a massive scorpion? It’s the point of the matter.”]

“I saved both our lives,” Solomon said firmly. “You think I wouldn’t be having this conversation with Barbatos if I had brought you back gravely injured?”

“We could have come up with another solution!” I shouted. “I was holding them off easily enough, there was undoubtedly another way out. I’m pissed because you didn’t even consult me on what you were doing—that was disgustingly selfish of you.”

“Of course I didn’t consult you! You’re too close to Barbatos; you never would have agreed.”

“Like he didn’t agree to you adding this clause to the contract?”

Solomon snorted. “He read it over.”

“Before or after you made a pact with him?”

Solomon shook his head. “Don’t be like that, Helena. I’ve explained before that using a little chicanery when making pacts is expected. Humans are not on top of the food chain when it comes to demons. If you want to be this soft in your dealings with them, maybe you don’t belong here in Devildom.”

I slapped him hard across the face. “Don’t ever mistake my common decency for softness again, Solomon. You’re not supposed to trick your friends. Which is obviously why you don’t have any.”

I started to push past him, but he grabbed my arm. “Helena…”

I spun and punched him directly in the nose, forcing him to stagger back with a strangled cry, blood spilling over his upper lip.

I stormed out of the study and headed toward Barbatos’s room, trying to breathe away my anger by the time I got there. My hand hurt but it had been worth it.

Diavolo was pacing outside the door, looking agitated. He glanced up as he saw me and paused in his movements.

“How is he?” I asked.

He folded his arms tightly across his chest. “Not great. The wound is pretty bad, and the doctor says he won’t be able to heal until the venom works its way out of his system. I guess Solomon passed that along too.”

I pressed my lips into a firm line.

“I’m not sure what to do about him, Helena,” Diavolo said. “Barbatos is right, technically he only did what was on the contract. But I don’t know if I can allow him to get away with this without any repercussions. After all, Barbatos is invaluable to me—deliberately injuring the prince’s butler has to be counted as an attack on my position, right? But if I make too big of a fuss about it, then the lords might take that as a strike against humans as a whole and that could damage our ties with the human world. Not to mention it could put you in danger which I would never want.” He huffed in annoyance. “I didn’t expect to have to deal with all of these political questions today.”

I sighed tiredly. “Then maybe doing nothing is your only course of action. I know Barbatos wouldn’t want you causing upheaval on his part. But that doesn’t mean doing nothing can’t have it’s consequences.”

“How so?”

“Because if word gets out that Solomon makes slimy contracts no one will want to make a pact with him, and no one us will obviously ever trust him again. Being a societal outcast would be punishment enough for Solomon.”

Diavolo’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose it will have to be enough. I just can’t believe he would choose to do something like this…”

“Believe me, I know,” I said, glancing toward the door.

Diavolo’s face softened. “You should go to him. He didn’t want me to see him like that, but I’m sure your presence will bring him comfort. Look after him for me?”

I smiled sadly. “I’ll take good care of him.”

Diavolo nodded and reluctantly stepped away from the door. “I’ll go see if I can deal with Solomon. If you have time later, I’d appreciate an update on Barbatos’s condition?”

“Of course,” I said and slipped into the room.

The doctor was leaning over the bed, doing his best to stitch up the hole in Barbatos’s stomach.

Barbatos had been stripped to the waist and he looked incredibly pale, sweat beading on his brow, hands clenched in the sheets. I hurried to grab a cool cloth and made my way over to sit on the side of the bed, taking hold of his closest hand and pressing the cloth to his brow.

His eyes flickered open, dull from pain, and I gave his hand a squeeze.

“Hey,” I whispered, pushing his bangs out of his eyes before dabbing his forehead again.

“I’m nearly done,” the doctor said.

Barbatos’s eyes fluttered shut again and he let out a soft sound of pain, obviously practicing huge restraint. I could tell how much pain he was in from the way he clutched my hand. Tight enough to hurt around my bruised knuckles.

The doctor and his assistant finished up, spreading salve over Barbatos’s wound, before wrapping bandages around his waist.

“How long until the venom wears off?” I asked.

“A couple more hours,” the doctor said. “After that his body should start being able to heal itself, but I would recommend at least two days of bedrest.”

“We’ll see…how I feel,” Barbatos said, voice obviously strained. “I can’t…shirk my duties…for too long.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t get up too soon,” I told the doctor as Barbatos furrowed his brow.

“I’ll be back to check on him later,” the doctor promised as he cleaned up his supplies and left with his assistant.

“Please report to the Prince about his condition,” I said as he left. “That way he’ll be made aware that he will have to find someone to handle Barbatos’s duties for the next few days.”

“Helena,” Barbatos hissed disapprovingly.

The doctor nodded. “Of course, miss.”

As the door closed, Barbatos cast a baleful look at me. “It won’t take me that long to heal.”

“So? Diavolo is worried about you, and it won’t kill you to take a couple days off to rest.” I kicked my shoes off and crawled further onto the bed, leaning over him. “Or are you just that disappointed at the thought that we might actually get to spend some time together?”

I leaned over and pressed my lips to his. His mouth instantly melted against mine, and he brought a hand up to tangle in my hair, holding me close.

“Trying to use your wiles to sway me? You little vixen,” he smiled.

I smirked back, pecking his lips again. “Is it working?”

“Hmm, you do make a very convincing case.”

“I’m also not above tying you to the bed, you know. I have a lot of books that will tell me exactly what will hold even a powerful demon like you.”

His eyes lit up with a wicked glint. “Do you, now? I see. Careful or I might just be convinced to tempt you into doing so.”

I clicked my tongue, brushing his hair out of his face. “Perhaps we should wait until you’re feeling better for that.”

I sobered, smoothing my thumb across his cheekbone. “I’m sorry, Barb. If I had known what Solomon was going to do—”

He shook his head, taking my hand and pointedly kissing my bruised knuckles. “This wasn’t your fault, Helena. I am mostly relieved you are uninjured. If I had to take Solomon’s wounds for that, then I suppose it’s worth it.”

“You’re far more gracious than I am.”

“I’ve simply learned to pick my battles. Someday Solomon’s sins and deceptions will come back to bite him. And I hope to be there to see it happen.”

I sighed. “I just don’t like to see you hurt.”

He gave me a soft look. “It’s admittedly not the most enjoyable thing, but I am looking forward to you being my caretaker. Perhaps it will be nice to have a couple days of rest.”

Relieved that he seemed to be complying, I smiled and pulled the blankets from the foot of the bed, pulling them over us as I cuddled up against him.

“I couldn’t agree more.” I leaned in to kiss him again and when we pulled away he rested his forehead against mine. “Let’s make the most of it.”

[theonekrafter]

Hey! I just recently found your Magneto fic and I am absolutely obsessed. Any updates coming in the future?

i’m super glad you enjoyed magneto! this ask has gotten me to finally put a discontinued in the description of magneto. it’s not at ALL because of you in particular, but i’ve realized by putting off adding it to the description i’ll keep giving people false hope. forgive me if i use this ask for a tediously long post describing why exactly i will never update magneto, so i can link it easily for anyone with similar questions in the future. 😭

so. short answer? no. magneto will probably never be updated. i’m really sorry for that. my interests have changed since graduating high school and i don’t really want to write bnha anymore.

long answer?

i started writing magneto pre-pandemic during my junior year of high school. i had seen there was only about a 100 self inserts for bnha at the time and thought “well, if i post something it’ll probably get a lot of attention, since the fandom is growing in popularity a lot and there’s a scarcity here!” 2019 was an interesting year for fanfic in bnha, since it didn't have enough content for the growing eyes looking for it.

i ended up being very correct. too correct. i actively updated magneto over the course of half a year, roughly, and in that time it rapidly climbed in attention. since 2020 ive only updated it about twice(?) and that hasn’t deterred the new readers it’s gotten. i get comments every other day asking about updates.

magneto is currently the most kudo-ed bnha si-oc on the entirety of ao3. which is fucking insane. i don’t think it deserves it, but popularity is rarely about deserving. usually it’s about being just good enough, just novel enough, and being posted at the right time.

but i digress: it doesn’t feel possible for me to update magneto for a variety of reasons.

1) my disinterest in the setting would make any future update disingenuous.

i haven’t been actively into the bnha fandom in about four years now. i don’t really read bnha fic aside from the very occasional si-oc, nor have i kept up with the manga or anime. the only fic i’ve ever written for the fandom is magneto, and it’ll probably always be my only fic for the fandom. (watch me say that and be wrong in the next few years LMAO)

it would be really rude of me to stomp into a space i don’t even like anymore and post something lackluster and lacking in passion. especially with the express intention of gaining more engagement from readers. like it or not, magneto IS the most popular si for bnha, and i think i drive attention away from better books by updating and inadvertently preserving that position in the ranking.

I can't believe no one has written any "self-insert as Bakugou" fanfics yet what a bunch of cowards by the_incidental_author and i have jostled back and forth for that #1 kudo-ed spot for the past five years. which i admit has been fun, but i would very much like for them to overtake me. it’s clear (to me, at least) that they actually enjoy writing bnha more than me and update more often to boot.

i fully welcome ANY fic to take magneto's position at this point, if only so that less people comment how poorly written it is. which leads me into my next point.

2) my writing style has SIGNIFICANTLY changed over the past five years.

when i do my yearly reread of magneto i actively cringe and have to resist the urge to rewrite every chapter in a separate google doc. in any hypothetical world where i do add to magneto, i do a complete rewrite. in no particular order, the things i would change are:

kenzo being defined by three character traits and nothing else. her exhaustion, her mild spite for her father, and her aimless wandering through the plot

better grammar. dear god the grammar errors. dear god the SPELLING ERRORS

the pov characters being more developed and feeling more like Individual People with their own personal motivations and histories that are not defined by what the plot needs from them (cough, reacting to how cool kenzo is)

not just recapping each anime episode and stating what kenzo would do in that situation

placing greater focus on the way quirk society discriminates against those with undesirable quirks and backgrounds. what does it really mean to be the child of a criminal in a world where people assume that sort of thing is hereditary?

kenzo's classmates should've been more classist in general, especially in relation to quirk discrimination. UA is a school only the most wealthy and powerful get into, there's no way there wouldn't be social disconnects that create tension between a dead eyed daughter of a villain and more than a few nepo babies.

if you have any interest in naruto, skyrim, asoiaf or dragon age you've probably read my more recent fics. fluffy clouds and a tinge of wonder, the fic i have updated the most this year, is a really good example of how significantly my writing has evolved since starting magneto in 2019. my technical skill and style have changed enough that it just would be tonally jarring for me to update magneto without outright rewriting everything.

like. im being so fr with you right now, i didn't learn how to start outlining until about a YEAR AGO. magneto was written on a chapter by chapter basis with little idea of where exactly it was going. i implied that there would be a future confrontation between kenzo and her father, but i didn't have any idea of HOW that would occur or even what the consequences of it would be.

adding to magneto as it is would be like trying to add a sleeve to a shirt that's missing it's entire back panel and most of it's front. i'd be playing catch up with the plot and end up having to rewrite previous chapters anyways.

3) bnha commentors have been kind of really mean to me compared to other fandoms i've written for LMAO

ok. please don't draw and quarter me for this. MOST commentors have been extremely complimentary, and kind. besides the occasional bomb of like seven comments in my inbox of ten hearts from one user (which, sweet, but please don't do that) the bnha fandom has been totally fine.

but a very small minority have been really pushy about making me update a fic i have clearly not touched in two years, and realistically haven't actively updated in four. from comments just saying "wow this is great. update soon." to DETAILED reviews of how bad my fic is and how they can't believe how garbage like magneto is so popular.

which like. i don't feel personally attacked by? i fully agree that magneto is bad for the previously stated reasons. i wouldn't read magneto if i were a casual reader and hadn't written it. usually the second kind of comment really annoys me because of it's presumption of importance and for how soul crushing it would have been for sixteen-year-old me to read.

bnha as a fandom, especially in recent years, has felt more and more like they treat fic like something that is created in a vacuum. souless content that exists for readers to consume. the comments don't go to an inbox, they go to a void, so really it doesn't matter if i say something really belligerent to an author i don't know about a Self Insert Fanfic They Wrote In Between Rehearsals For Their High School Play.

but whatever. if it had just been me experiencing that i would've written it off as like just my fic, but a close friend and frequent cowriter of mine Reavv has dealt with this a lot more than me.

they wrote It's a like a time travel comedy, without the comedy, another very popular bnha fic, and had to private it because people were going to their other UNRELATED fics and badgering them to update it. people still go into their comments insisting they unprivate it, oblivious to the fact that every time they ask it adds another year to reavv's internal timer for when they will.

a combination of my own experiences and reavv's have completely put me off of writing bnha i'll be fr. even if i was still in the fandom, the majority of my fics will always be about fucking dragon age and skyrim. i do not want random bnha fans coming into my dragon age fics and, AFTER NOT READING THE FIC, saying that since im active i should clearly update my bnha fics. that's a nightmare scenario for me.

in conclusion

i am so glad that people like magneto, i'm glad that i wrote magneto. the initial jump in readers i got from magneto gave me the confidence to write other fics, and the alternating pov format is a staple of most of my writing now. some of the comments i got for that magneto when i was a teenager were the only things that kept my ass going.

but magneto is never being updated. i don't even think it's gonna be rewritten. i really am sorry about that, but it is what it is. thank you for reading it, thank you for loving it, thank you for feeling ambivalent about it. good talk.

btw to the original asker, again. this is NOT a rant directed at you, you just inspired some Thoughts in me and i had to let them loose.

[xxsksxxx]

Crossroads

Summary:

Scully has plans, Mulder is on a whole different page. And Diana Fowley isn’t helping.

Fictober24

Fanfiction Fandom: The X-Files/ #xfiles

Prompts: 19, 22, 24, 27, 28, 29

Rating: T

Warnings: none

Tags: angst, season 6, pre-Two Fathers/One Son

Notes:

Since I’m not good at sticking to one prompt for each story, I’ve combined several in this fic. They’re all in bold if you want to seek them out specifically. You can find the list here: @fictober-event.

This is fic is lot angstier than what I usually write. I just felt like diving into the troubled times before Two Fathers/One Son.

AO3 | @today-in-fic | @xffictober24

J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. FBI Headquarters – Basement Tuesday, February 2nd, 1999, 1:53 pm

Scully couldn’t stop staring. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all. She knew she should move away and walk back to the elevator before she got caught, but her feet felt like they were rooted to the ground. 

She’d meant to surprise him, maybe get one of those carefree smiles he’d started to bestow on her more frequently recently. She’d almost been giddy when she paid at the store earlier, already imagining his surprised look turning into an excited sparkle. 

The basket handle dug into her hand, and what had felt light as a feather when she had been walking down to the basement was now a heavy weight pulling at her arm. 

Her throat tightened, and she swallowed, feeling the lump in her throat. She tried to get her limbs back under control, and with a deep breath, she slowly moved backward, careful not to make any sound. She didn’t even want to imagine the humiliation if they caught her spying on them—with a picnic basket in her hand and very clear intentions on her mind. 

She didn’t need to worry, she realized with a pang. They were far too focused on each other to even notice she existed. She slowly moved backward into the dimly lit hallway and tiptoed back to the elevator. At the last moment, she turned left towards the door to the stairway and carefully opened it. She couldn’t risk them hearing the ding of the elevator.

FBI parking garage 10 minutes later

Scully closed the trunk of her Ford Crown Victoria with a bit too much force and turned around to walk back into the building. 

She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked determinedly across the empty parking garage, her heels clicking loudly on the cement floor. This was not at all what she had had in mind when she had imagined this afternoon, but she’d be damned if she’d just roll over and die, giving them the satisfaction of seeing her sad and disillusioned. It made her heart ache to know she’d been so wrong about where she and Mulder were heading, and she angrily pulled her hands into fists to not start crying. 

Scully stabbed at the elevator call button, trying to make it move faster. This was her office, too—despite not even having a nameplate on the door. And she’d be damned if she’d just let Mulder and his ex—or newly not-ex, whatever she was—drive her out of her own workspace. If they wanted to give it another chance, who was she to stand in their way? 

The elevator dinged and opened its door to the basement hallway she’d only walked down ten minutes ago. But how much different it all had been then. She looked around and noticed the shelves filled with boxes up to the ceiling, the dark and dusty boxes stacked along the way. The whole hallway looked gloomy and foreboding all of a sudden. Just ten minutes ago, she would’ve sworn sunlight was streaming through the windows. She shook her head to get her thoughts back on track and took a determined step towards Mulder’s—their!—office, making no effort to disguise the sound of her clicking heels. 

She could hear low voices coming out of the office and cringed. So Diana was still there. She pushed the door open with a bit too much energy and gave the two people in the room a quick sideways glance. 

“Mulder, Agent Fowley,” she nodded in their direction, noting with petty satisfaction that Mulder was staring at her wide-eyed, seemingly surprised to see her. Diana, however, smiled at her across the room and gave her a little nod. “Agent Scully. I hope you had a nice lunch? Fox and I were just discussing your recent experience with nanobots and how you helped AD Skinner. That must've been terrifying for you—not being able to help, even though you're a medical doctor.”

“It was an interesting experience, Agent Fowley,” Scully replied without looking at the other agent. She picked up a file lying on the little table in the back of the office and started leafing through it. 

The silence in the office was deafening, but Scully refused to look back over at Mulder and Diana. Her stomach growled, and she hoped neither of the others had heard it, lest she have to explain why she was returning from lunch with an empty stomach. What seemed like hours later but must’ve been only a few moments, she heard Diana cheerfully say goodbye and Mulder give an awkward reply. She remained silent, still staring at the article about worm mutations without reading a word. 

How did this happen? she wondered and took a deep breath. Just this morning, she’d felt so full of hope. She usually wasn’t the most spontaneous person, but when she’d come up with the idea of using her lunch break to prepare a picnic basket and surprise Mulder, she’d been so sure it would be a great idea. Scully ruefully remembered the tuna sandwich going bad in her trunk and straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t going to mope around just because she’d read a situation wrong. A whole string of situations, Dana, her mind filled in helpfully, and she shook her head to get her thoughts back on track. She wiggled her mouse, and the screen came back to life, the cursor blinking at her. 

“Did you bring me something for lunch, Scully?” Mulder asked, and she remembered that she’d promised to get him a sandwich from her lunch break. She cringed. “Sorry, Mulder. I forgot. But the cafeteria on the third floor is probably still open. Maybe they’ve got something left you could get?” She refused to feel guilty. You didn’t do anything wrong, she told herself. There’s an entire lunch picnic with him in mind, rotting away in your trunk. It’s not your fault things turned out differently.

“You forgot?” Mulder’s surprised voice echoed through the office, and she bit her lip against the desire to tell him that she had not forgotten at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. However, him cozying up with his ex while she was preparing romantic picnics wasn’t exactly what she’d consider an appetizer. 

“Sorry, Mulder. Let me remind you how many times you’ve forgotten to bring me anything,” she snapped and cringed at herself. Why was she behaving like a jealous girlfriend? Mulder and she were friends. He had every right to meet—or date—whoever he wanted. She consciously softened her voice and turned around to face him. “Would you like me to check what’s left in the cafeteria?” She smiled half-heartedly, “Just say what you want, and I’ll see what I can do.” Mulder didn’t smile back, his eyes roaming her face, as if he were trying to read her mind.

“What’s really going on here, Scully?” I don’t think you’ve ever not remembered to bring me lunch when I was working through our lunch break.” Scully snorted, and Mulder snapped his mouth shut in irritation. 

“Is this about Diana being here?” he growled and crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t be serious!”

Scully raised her chin and gave him a look that could freeze a bear in its tracks. “Why would I care whether Agent Fowley is here or not? I’m sure she’s of great assistance in supporting your theories.” 

“This is getting ridiculous, Scully! Why are we doing this again? Diana is helping us on the X-Files! She’s worked cases like this one before! I’ve told you that. She’s on our side!” 

Scully watched him angrily yanking his suit jacket from the back of his chair and stomping towards the door. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, Scully, but I won’t let you question a friend just because you don’t like her. I trust her. She’d never do anything to endanger the X-Files. Or me.” He pulled the door open and snapped, “I’m getting something to eat!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Scully lowered her head. No, this was not what she’d imagined at all. 

The End

[baileypie-writes]

hii could you do a velvet x female reader who is velvet's childhood best friend but also velvet's crush? velvet is trying so hard to ask the reader out but reader is just veryyy oblivious. they get together in the end though. tytyy

A/N ~ Sure! Hope you enjoy!

~Finally~

Velvet x Fem!Childhood Best Friend!Reader

Fandom: Trolls 3: Band Together

Reader: Female, Velvet’s childhood best friend, oblivious

Relationship: Crush to Romantic

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Velvet keeps trying to ask you out, but unfortunately, you’re very oblivious. This time though, she will make sure you get the message.

Warnings: Cringe, possibly ooc Velvet

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You’ve been best friends with Velvet since you were kids. You’ve been there through her ups and downs. The rise and fall of her fame. When she went to prison. Velvet couldn’t picture life without you! For about a year now, she’s been aware of her feelings towards you. She was down bad.

For the past few months, she’s been dropping various hints. Each one more obvious than the last. But her attempts have proven unsuccessful, as you were so oblivious. Velvet could practically confess, and somehow, somehow, it would go right over your head! She couldn’t do this anymore. This time, she’d make sure you got the message.

~~~~

The two do you sat together on the couch. You were under the impression that it was just a casual hangout, so you were relaxed, just scrolling on your phone. Velvet, on the other hand, was very tense. She was nervous, but nonetheless, built up all her courage, and began her attempts.

She cleared her throat. “You look… nice today.” She complimented, avoiding eye contact.

“Thanks!” You said, briefly looking her way, before immediately going back to your phone.

Velvet sighed. As always, you didn’t think anything of it. She clenched her fists, building up more confidence. “How long have we been friends for? It feels like it’s been forever.” She said, finally looking at you.

You put your phone down, and began to think. “Hmm. We met when we were five so… about fourteen years now. That’s most of our lives. Can you believe it?” You smiled.

Velvet’s heart jumped in her chest. Here she does. She put on a cool, chill expression. “So like… do you ever think about being more than friends?”

“Well, we’re already best friends. So I can’t see how we’d be more. Is there another level or something after that?” You asked.

Oh my god. There’s no way.

Velvet groaned, and decided to finally say it outright. “Damn it (name), I’m asking if you want to be my girlfriend!”

You were silent in shock. Both your faces were beet red.

“Wait… you like me?” You asked.

“Yes! Oh my god, you’re so stupid sometimes! I’ve been trying to tell you for months! How have you not noticed?”

“Wow. You’re right. How have I not noticed?” You were embarrassed. You didn’t know you were that oblivious.

Velvet huffed, her arms crossed. Well, at least now you understood.

“Well… to answer your question… yes.” You said.

“Huh?”

“Yes. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Oh!” Velvet’s face turned red again. “Alright. Nice.” She tried to keep up her cool demeanor, but as someone who’s known her most of your life, you could tell she was flustered. You leaned over, and kissed her cheek. She was shocked for a moment, then let out a laugh.

“Finally.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~baileypie-writes

[destinygoldenstar]

It’s honestly very crazy that a garbage Hollywood trailer makes so many people apologize to Minecraft Story Mode.

My experience with MCSM was that I was gifted the show by my dad as a teenager the same year the news came that Telltale went bankrupt. (It was the summer, so a couple of months before that)

I got a lot more into it than I was expecting. It had its problems, sure, but I was incredibly immersed with its story and atmosphere. Later on it became one of my obsessions once I finished the two games. It was the first fandom on the internet I ever became a part of. It was also the first time I ever outright became a shipper over a ship that wasn’t canon. (Jetra is my OTP to this day)

But in terms of real life, I never really felt confident talking to people about it. That’s because this was around the same time the hate train for MCSM started to arise. Then it became “Pure Fact” quote on quote that the games were these terrible things.

Now in my opinion and from my experience this started when some popular Let’s Players bashed the games. And even then I can’t blame them for simply having an opinion. But it’s because of their influence that their audiences take their opinions as gospel. (That should not be how that works)

From there every time I brought it up I would get cyberbullied for liking the games. And this was true for a lot of people who did like the games as well. We were all getting cyberbullied into joining the popular crowd and that we were wrong.

“Everyone else is saying it’s bad, therefore it must be true”

And then every time MCSM popped up in my feeds, my heart would sink and I would feel sick. Weird part was, while I did become far more critical of the games as a result of the trend… I NEVER found it in myself to outright hate it.

Like I said, the games have problems. They are by no means perfect games, and some of my critiques of it still hold up. (Not all of them though, ones I do wish I could take back) it was talking about THESE games that even spawned my hobby of writing essays of stuff I like.

So… that’s a sad origin story for how AnalyzGolden came to be. Now you know.

I’ve since drifted away from MCSM, simply because I was older and getting into new stuff. I talk about other stuff on this blog, like The Amazing Digital Circus, Ninjago, Total Drama, and quite recently Disventure Camp. And more. I also try to advertise my own stories to failing results cause no one cares.

So to see, after all these years, people like me finally being VALIDATED for our soured opinion on something… it just warms my heart so much.

I became more critical because of the trend of “MCSM sucks”. And now that that’s growing to not be the case, and I became more exposed to some crazy and wild fandom takes on other media that boggle my mind, that I’ve stepped more away from being negative and made choices to be in my corner and simply “Enjoy Something. Because I enjoy it.”

Oh I’m still a critical cynical bitch. And I do talk about my own critiques and problems if I personally have a problem with it and how the writing or whatever was handled. But I guess I’m more willing to hear the story itself out and what it’s trying to do before I jump to conclusions.

I cringe at my old emotionally impulsive self. And I hate having regression episodes of reverting back to my awful teenager self. But I can say that through experiences, I have to thank that for the person I am now, even if it sucked.

So… thank you MCSM. And thank you Hollywood for making a trailer/movie so awful that it made people such as myself finally feel heard and validated.

(Oh and btw, you guys don’t need to follow the trend of loving MCSM either. This doesn’t need to turn into the complete opposite thing. The lesson here is that you are allowed to like and dislike MCSM, and anything really, and trends should not sour your take on it. You can still not like the games if that’s your honest opinion.)

[askwillhenry]

Hi i know this account is probably not even manned anymore but if it is. I just reread the monstrumologust after reading it in freshman year of high school and in searching for more content i found this blog that i remeber loving from back then and it was a rush of nostalgia i wasn’t expecting i’m going to reminisce here for a while thank you for making this content, Will Henry.

Make yourself at home. You are always welcomed here. If we don't meet again. I wish you safe travels, friend. ~

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[From the moderator:

To whomever sees this,

I'm always amazed how many people still view this ask blog. Its rare but sometimes I get random likes and follows. No messages though. So when I saw this in my inbox I was surprised.

I hope you get to see this, Anon. I'm a bit late to respond but that was always my m.o. lol. Your message means the world to me.

I've posted about this before. I cringe looking at my old art and laugh at my odd humor. It's been 8 years since I posted here. Now when I look back, its bittersweet. Everyone was so kind in this fandom. I feel like I could have done a better job. I still have 108 ask in my inbox lol. There are a few I keep selfishly. This message though, I felt bad keeping. So here is probably going to be my last post.

To anyone who has laughed with me about this book series. To anyone who sent in an ask or helped me out with this blog. Thank you. It meant a lot to me. I'm glad I was part of this group. The fandom was small but always kind.

Thank you everyone.

May you all live happy and wonderful lives.

Sincerely Yours ]

[springbreezes-and-peonies]

I just wanna quickly state, and I don’t at all mean this in a rude way but as someone who’s played most of the games and has been in the fandom since I was 8 years old and trust me when I say that’s awhile. I’m an adult now. I don’t understand the people that get mad when Taranza is written as cute and sweet. As long as he’s still given agency I definitely view him and write him as cute and sweet and not insufferable. I also think he definitely can be a bit of a snob, a know-it-all and a klutz. All these things are stated but there’s no reason he can’t be both. HAL Labs THEMSELVES in the mangas, game descriptions, and cutscenes and artwork official by THEM has him more often than not having the sentimentality of a heartbroken old man if you just look up some of their own character art. There is no woobification. Sure some fans may not focus on all elements, like the fact he can fight really well and CAN possess people but he’s also a silly little spider Kirby character for chrissakes. Sorry I find him as adorable and cringe fail as HAL makes him. I really think this is just a case of one segment of fans getting mad that one side of the fanbase focuses more on his positive or endearing traits and like…sorry 🤷🏼 I like him??? So I focus a lot on the positives. I also think painting him as a 100% callous villain who has reformed is MISSING the relationship abuse and grief themes of his character and TDX as a whole but I don’t post stuff criticizing fans who want to portray him that way, it’s a valid portrayal too. Seriously look at some of Hal’s artwork of him. Manga chapters of him. Tell me he’s not meant to be endearing and cute. This is Kirby. He can be both long-winded and snobby and adorable and sweet. I’m js. It’s a little odd to me to be like “stop headcanoning kyoot character as kyoot when I think he’s an asshole!” Taranza is a comfort character for a lot of us who grieve and have been abused. He is absolutely endearing and I look at all his traits. I just especially love the kyoot ones. I emphasize again: if you prefer him to be a cold, snobby, jerk that’s hard to be around that is your right and you can do with that what you want. I don’t see him that way. I think he has his negative traits and his positive and hope to capture BOTH.