#song: Make You Feel My Love by Adele | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ynbabe · 7 months ago

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Cute situations w/ f1 drivers- ep2.

Asking the drivers if they 'wanna nap?'

Charles:

"Wanna nap?" You asked the man as soon as he stepped into his hotel room, tired and eyes red. You knew Ferrari wasn't some winter wonderland but you didn't know why Charles put up with it.

You had been close friends with the man, since before he'd started f3 too, you knew he bled Ferrari red but this wasn't bleeding this was suicide.

Nonetheless, you were there for him, every weekend, only today there wasn't much to do, he had just come back from some meetings. He looked at you and hummed, taking off team-issued merch and throwing himself on the bed beside you.

You turned on some sad Adele song and faded into sleep, holding the boy close to you, his head resting on the curve of your neck.

Carlos:

"Wanna nap?" You asked Carlos as you both walked into his drivers' room, it was early in the morning at the Las Vegas GP and just as the year before they had messed up the timings and the drivers had to wait till four-thirty in the morning to get on with the programme.

Knowing the both of you, you were sure if you hadn't extended the offer the both of you would have ended up doom-scrolling through Netflix looking for some show to watch fighting off sleep.

"What?" He asked, shocked at the offer for a second before raising his browns and winking at you, "You finally feel my charm didn't you?" he laughed as he climbed onto the small and rickety bed next to you. "Smooth operator strikes again," he praised himself, pulling you close to him, enveloping you in his arms as the big spoon.

You groaned and kicked his shin, making him complain, "Dude you're so fucking lame!" You made fun of the older man who only replied with terrorism (tickling you,) "S-top, stop, I'm sorry," you laughed, trying to escape the death grip he had on you, eventually getting him to stop.

He let you catch your breath as he set an alarm, before trapping you in his warm arms again, both drifting into a comfortable sleep.

Lando:

It was way past midnight but you couldn't sleep, unable to get yourself out of the party high, too drunk to rest your brain. Thankfully you weren't the only one.

There was a barrage of knocks on your hotel room, a slurred voice with a British accent begging to be let in. "Y/n/nnnnn, I can't sleep," he cried once in the room, stumbling over nothing as you both made your way to your bed.

You giggled as he fell, brushing his hands over the cold blanket. You joined him, crawling onto the bed slowly as the room around you spun. You laid on your back, clinging onto the bed for dear life.

Lando noticed and piled on top of you, making you raise a question brow. "So you don't fall off," he muttered, his face buried in your chest.

"Ohhhh, that makes sense," you said, understanding his thought process as the spinning slowed down. "We should nap," you said out loud, eyes shutting due to the comforting warm weight on top of you.

Lando hummed in return, wrapping his hands around your waist, as you pulled one hand up to his and another grabbing his curls for extra support.

Oscar:

There were two things everyone knew about Oscar, he hated waking up early and he loved sleeping. So when his trainer woke him up on a perfectly cosy yet cool Monday morning to exercise, he nearly wanted to kill the man, only stopping because that would take much more effort than simply going through with the workout.

Your apartment was closer to the gym than his, so he happily invited himself in to bitch and moan about his trainer and how that man must have hated him.

Rolling at your friend's antics, you pushed away your laptop, walking from the dining table to where he was sitting on your sofa.

"Wanna nap?" You had barely finished your question when you were pulled onto the Australian.

"I thought you'd never ask," he whispered, as he shuffled on the narrow sofa to get comfortable, you still on top of him, his arms wrapped around your waist and your face buried in his neck.

"Are you using me as a teddy bear?" You asked incredulously, trying to get up to no avail as the man's grip on you was far too strong.

"Yes, now let me sleep," he murmured, already half gone.

George:

George had a habit of pushing himself too far, ever since he was a child. When you guys had just newly become friends, the boy had spent hours trying to find out what exactly you liked and didn't, stalking your Instagram and your family's Facebook.

You had found it endearing but also concerning how he always wanted to be perfect. So when you walked into his house at midnight (you got a key made- there's a reason the both of you got along so well,) and found him staring unblinkingly at his laptop and a large mess of papers spread across the wooden coffee table.

"Dude, what is wrong with you," You whisper-yelled at the man making him jump, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Me? What is wrong with you?" He yelled, panting as you jumped over the back of the couch, sitting right next to him, ruffling through the papers much to his chagrin.

"Shut it, Georgie boy," you smirked at him using the nick name he hated. “What are you even doing, it’s so late?” You asked looking at the taller man who started off in a rant about the car and everything he was doing wrong, making you slide down on the sofa till you head was resting on the backrest. You lifted your feet up to rest them on the coffee table, making George rush to move a stack of papers so they wouldn’t be under your feet.

Perfect. You grabbed the man’s shoulders and made his head rest on your lap.

“What on earth are you doing!” He yelled more than asked, trying to get up but you doubled down.

“George you need to sleep,” you deadpanned as he tried to make you let him go, knowing his pleas fell on deaf ears he gave up.

You raised your brow, “wanna nap?” You asked teasing the boy.

“Only for a few minutes,” he pressed, making himself comfortable, while you tangled your fingers in his hair, “maybe more then,” he sighed and let his eyes shut, slightly watering and finally fell asleep.

Lewis

Lewis had never been a friend to you, he was more like an annoying yet caring older brother or like a fun uncle of sorts. The man was fiercely protective of his friends, even those whom he saw in animosity.

But you were different, Lewis would steal your coffee, eat your food, and push you around but he'd also sneak you Red Bull (much to his disgust,) into his driver's room during late races, walk you to your hotel room after parties and get you souvenirs from races you couldn't be at. Similarly, you loved to annoy the man, stealing his expensive jackets, which looked hilarious due to the size difference, stealing his headphones and running away with them and most importantly coming to him with your problems day or night.

So no, Lewis wasn't surprised when you showed up to his driver's room in the middle of the day, even though Toto had revoked your pass for the day (for bullying George, but it was worth it,). He was ready to tease you but then he saw your eyes, red and tears flowing down your face.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" He immediately came up to you, giving you a once-over to see if you were injured. "Did someone say something, are you hurt?" He asked panicking at your silence. You simply wrapped your arms around the older man, hiding your face in his chest, quietly sobbing and sniffling.

He walked you both to the sofa in his room, seating you down, trying to wipe your tears, "Do you wanna talk about it?" He asked as you finally calmed down, using his arm as support to sit up.

You cleared your throat, "No, I just wanna nap," you hiccuped slightly.

"Okay," he leaned back so you could rest your head on his shoulder, giving you one of his airpods to relax, which you gladly accepted.

Lance & Fernando (they aren't always gonna be together but the situations... THE SITUATIONS WRITE THEMSELVES)

"Oh honey that’s not," Lance said pointing to your coloured hair (matching with Alex) and thats how the conversation had started and had ended in a cat fight.

“At least I’m not a nepo baby,” you yelled as you threw a basket of oranges at him, which he dodged, darn those f1 reflexes. The basket itself smacked him square in the face, leaving a red indent across his nose. He glared for a second before jumping over the table you were fighting across and pulled your hair. “Owww, you bitch”

You bit his hands in defence, to which he kicked your shin, screaming you launched yourself at him, crashing the both of you to the ground, “oh my god, okay, truce, truce,” he panted, pushing you off him.

“Just so you can catch your breath,” you retorted making him mock you. In reality, you were definitely much more tired than he was. You were struggling to catch your breath, your head killing you where he grabbed a large chunk of your hair.

You turned to look at him, resting your head on his stretched arm, he was massaging his nose, the bruise turning purple now, “well that was fun,” he turned to face you.

“Sooooo fun,” you rolled your eyes, “wanna nap? My heads killing me,” you are far him in accusation but he glared right back pointing to his swollen nose.

“Sure,” he shrugged, shifting closer to you and closing his eyes. You opened your mouth to make a joke but were interrupted, “there are like a million oranges on the floor right now, I’ll throw one at you,” you accepted defeat and fell into a comfortable sleep.

That’s how Fernando found the both of you, slightly scowling but fast asleep, he took a picture for blackmail’s sake and placed a blanket over the two of you.

PT-2 w/ Max, Logan, Alex, Daniel, Yuki, Pierre, Esteban, Zhou.

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alison321singer · 2 years ago

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Make You Feel My Love 1b

I am singing and Henry Newbury is playing the piano for the song called "Make You Feel My Love by Bob Dylan / Adele" recorded through my microphone.

"Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use." All rights go to their respective owners. No Copyright Infringements of rights intended. I make no money from my videos, which means none of my videos are monetize.

Yes, I have permission to use this music as backing a track. From Henry Newbury, "Hi Alison! Be my guest, thanks!"

Music arrangement by Henry Newbury Link to original video: https://youtu.be/4UfuGBBwQBw Song: Make You Feel My Love Artist: Bob Dylan / Adele Genre: Pop

#mk-f400usb #usb #condenser #microphone #singer #singing #cover #song #pop filter #vocal #piano #music #video #Henry Newbury #Alison Mason #Adele #Bob Dylan #Make You Feel My Love

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coff33andb00ks · 6 months ago

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Until You - Part Two

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

charles leclerc x female pop singer!reader x oscar piastri f1 smau with intermittent scenes fc: none it's a mix of taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, and random pinterest ladies. {voice claim is adele}

Summary: he drives vroom vrooms, she sings soulful tunes. there's no way in hell this is gonna work, right? Warnings: language, implied smut (18+ only), oscar is a simp, lando is a horrible wingman, reader is a fangirl

Y/n set her phone aside and laughed as Leo jumped over onto her, headbutting her chin then licking it while she rubbed him. Charles stretched out, gently pulling the dog from her face.

"He's a bit insane," he apologized, rolling his eyes when Leo immediately scampered back to tuck his head under her chin.

"If he keeps loving on me like this I might smuggle him out," she teased, smiling as Charles laughed.

"You'd steal my dog?" he asked, clicking his tongue. Leo's ears perked up and y/n gasped as she was abandoned. Charles cooed at the puppy, cuddling him close.

"Not steal. Borrow." Reaching over, she smoothed her hand over the pup's back, not really surprised when he suddenly flopped onto his side, yawning with a squeak.

"You can babysit?" Charles offered, looking up at her with a smile.

"Hm… I don't know. What's the pay rate?" Watching as Leo nestled his head against Charles' shoulder, eyes drooping.

"My undying thanks, Leo's devotion… Paddock passes?" He leaned his head back. "A kiss?"

She blushed, thinking of the unexpected but very welcome kiss they'd shared on a dark street while walking Leo. The sweetness and tenderness had been sorely needed. Sighing, though, she shook her head. "I don't even get a Ferrari? I'll pass."

His chuckle was, like his company had been all evening, warm and soothing. "You don't have one already?"

"If I'm in New York or London my assistant arranges for a driver. And it's pointless having one in LA. I have a Mercedes but I rarely… Actually, I don't. That was his." She shrugged, impulsively scooping Leo up and settling him against her chest. He squirmed a little then relaxed and she sighed, knowing Charles understood her need for puppy snuggles.

The room was silent for a moment, Charles shifting so was next to her. "Why did you cry for yourself at the show, chérie?"

"I was stupid," she whispered. "I fell for everything he said. When I met him the first time people told me he was bad news but I just thought they were jealous, and when I told him he said they were crazy. And I believed it. By the time I realized they were right it was too late."

"That doesn't make you stupid. You were young when you met, yes?" he asked gently.

"Twenty-one."

"Exactly. So you weren't stupid, chérie. You were naïve."

"Perfect prey for a guy like him," she sighed. "I thought I was living my childhood dream because not only was I a singer, I was dating my childhood crush."

"He was your crush?" Charles made a face.

"I was like ten when his stupid Baby song came out," she defended.

"Ah, we were all stupid at that age." He nodded.

"I just…" She sighed, pressing her face into Leo's fur for a few seconds. When she lifted her head she stared straight ahead. "I feel like he played a colossal joke on me. He said all the right things at first and when he showed his true side I was too in love to want to give up on us."

Charles's hand slid over hers. He sat up, his expression concerned. "Did he…"

"Not physically," she murmured, answering the question he asked with his eyes. "He wounded with words. When I got excited about a new song I was working on he always downplayed it, you know? I got the opportunity to perform Your Song this year at the Grammy's—"

"It was beautiful," he said. "You said you would play it all the time as a child."

"And he—" She blinked in surprise. "You remember that?"

"It was during the lockdowns, no? The video of you playing and singing it at home went viral. I watched it a lot while I was learning piano."

"Wait." She laughed, shocked. "You watched me while you taught yourself piano?"

"Because I saw the video and you said you were self taught." His smile was almost bashful. "It was one of the first pieces I learned to play."

"But you've never played it publicly."

He shrugged. "It belongs to you."

"It belongs to Elton, I just borrowed it." She looked across the room, through the doorway where she could just see his grand piano. "Will you play for me?"

Charles protested weakly. "Chérie, I'm still not as good as you—"

"Please?" she murmured.

He sighed, looking at her for a moment. Then, sighing again, he nodded. She smiled, gently transferring Leo to the sofa and getting to her feet. Charles led her through to the piano, and she looked around the room, taking in the décor and noting that he had recording equipment in the corner.

"It won't disturb the neighbors will it?" she asked, joining him on the piano bench.

"No, they never complain when I play." He lifted the cover and let out a breath. "I feel like I am back in school doing reviews."

She giggled. "I promise not to grade you harshly."

He ran his fingers lightly over the keys, and as soon as he began to play she felt him relax. She couldn't help but hum along softly. He glanced at her, smiling, and she drew in a breath when he gave her a nod. "I am playing, you should sing," he said, tipping his head. "Please."

"The last verse," she agreed, turning on the bench so she faced him. Waiting for his nod, she admired his side profile and the focus with which he played, already aware that music was a passion of his. She began to sing, watching him, blinking and then finding him looking at her as she sang the line I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue and oh, they were both blue and green and she scooted back a little when she felt herself starting to fall into them. When his playing softened she softened her voice, watching his eyes light with something akin to admiration.

"Oh… I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind… That I put down in words… How wonderful… Life is… While you're in the world…"

She wasn't sure if he leaned in or if she did, or if they did it at the same time. But the music seemed to echo around them as their lips met, stealing her breath and drawing her closer to him. It seemed so natural to be kissing him again, and when he stopped playing abruptly and his hands cradled her cheeks she finally let herself touch him, tentatively resting her hand on the side of his neck.

"Y/n," he moaned, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against hers.

"We shouldn't," she whispered.

"I know," he agreed.

His breath caressed her lips and she shivered. "People will talk."

"Do you care?" he whispered.

"No, but…" She stared into his eyes, both hands sliding to cup the back of his neck. "Please just… I can't let myself fall for you, Charles. I can't get played again."

"I don't play," he murmured, tracing her cheek with his knuckles.

"How can I know that you're not full of tricks and unkept promises?" she asked, pulling away. His fingers trailed down to her chin and she felt a twinge of regret when she heard his sigh.

"You can't ever know, can you?" He lightly plinked the piano keys.

"I guess not." Pulling one foot up onto the bench, she rested her chin on her knee. She watched his hand move over the keys, unintentionally humming. "Play that again?"

He did, shifting to give her room when she reached to add a few chords.

"Take a bow… To the crowd… The joke's on me," she sang gently.

Charles hummed, nodding as they played through it again. And, apparently realizing what she was doing, he stood and left the room, coming back a moment later with her phone and his iPad. "Do you need pen and paper?"

"No, my phone's good, thank you."

He sat next to her, and when he shifted she realized Leo was tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. "Would you prefer I leave?"

She shook her head, opening her phone's camera and starting a video. "I need your input and help."

He scoffed at that, bending to place Leo in the soft dog bed beneath the piano. "You're the professional, mon couer."

"See, you say things like my heart and say you don't play," she teased, actually laughing when he bumped her shoulder with his.

"It's how I speak, amour."

"I'll believe that when you talk to Max or Lewis and call them your heart," she snorted.

"You have a point," he conceded with a sigh. "But I do not play."

"Only the piano, right?" she asked, ending the video and starting a new one.

"Only the piano, yes." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "Shall I play for you, mon couer?"

"Please? While I work on lyrics."

He kept calling her the professional but his input was better than from some who'd been in the industry for decades. And she knew it was because music for him wasn't a career, it was an outlet. He played and composed with emotion, not with a care for how much money it would make him.

"Again?" he asked an hour later.

Taking a sip of the tea he'd brewed for them, she nodded. "I think we've got it, Charles."

"Will you record it?" He took his place in front of the piano while she stretched.

"Yeah, video's going," she told him.

"I mean to publish."

"Oh. I guess? My manager can handle the rights and crediting and royalties for you."

He shrugged. "I don't need the royalties, mon couer."

"Would you record it with me?" she asked once they'd played through the entire song fully.

"You would want me?" He sounded surprised and she turned to him, ending the video and immediately emailing it to herself.

"Of course. It's your song too. Your melody. I'd love to be in the studio with you." Thinking of how busy he would be for the rest of the season, she locked her phone. "I'm sure we can find a studio nearby for us to use before I leave."

He chuckled. "You find one, amour, and I will be there."

"Thank you," she whispered, hugging him. His arms wound around her and she closed her eyes, letting herself enjoy the warmth and gentleness of his embrace. They both began to pull away at the same time, both freezing when his cheek brushed hers.

She was well aware it could be a big mistake, that she had once again fallen for the right words, and she would be left alone and cold once more. But she turned her head slightly, barely brushing his lips with hers. His arms tightened as he caught her in a gentle kiss and it felt different and she couldn't begin to explain how. Last time there had been the element of danger, the excitement and the butterflies and fireworks. But Charles…

He guided her to her feet, somehow keeping his lips on hers. He didn't pull her with him from the room, his hands at her waist keeping her steady.

It was warmth and safety. Exciting, yes, but calming at the same time. He wasn't an ice cold energy drink that would leave her buzzing and her heart racing. He was a cup of hot tea on a cold winter's day. His gentle touch soothed her even as it aroused her. When he sat on the foot of his bed she hesitated only a second before straddling his thighs, kneeling over him.

"Do you want music, chérie?" he whispered, leaning back slightly.

"Don't need it," she promised, shivering as his hands slipped under the shirt he'd loaned her, his fingers caressing and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Candles?" He grunted and chuckled when she lightly shoved his shoulders. Lying back, he stared up at her, humming through a sigh while one hand left her skin, reaching to stroke the curve of her jaw. "He didn't deserve you."

"Is this where I say 'no one does'?" she murmured, leaning over him. "Or do I say maybe you do?"

"Don't blow up my ego," he whispered, sitting up to meet her in another kiss.

YN laughed while she signed the CD, nodding when one of the mechanics asked if she would sign something for his niece. Ynbff was already on it, pulling a copy of the CD from her bag and YN signed it for him, handing it over with a smile then spending a few moments to take pictures. They then decided to walk along, mainly so yn could work off some of her nervous energy.

Pete stayed close as they walked along in front of the garages. YN walked slowly, breathing in the scent of the sea mixed with the aroma of fuel and rubber. Taking a few photos, she couldn't keep the smile from her face as drivers walked up to introduce themselves. As they neared the McLaren garage she snapped a photo of the car, stopping long enough to post it to her story.

ynyln has added to their story

"YN," Ellie hissed.

She jerked her head up, eyes widening at the sight of Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri standing with her assistant. "Shit, sorry," she mumbled, stepping forward. "Hi."

"Found your way to us at last?" Lando teased, an easy grin on his face once the introductions had been made.

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."

Oscar snorted, grinning. "Heh, nice one."

"Thanks." Smiling up at him, she missed the knowing look on Lando's face as he looked between them.

"Oh this is mint – Catch ya later yeah? Media," he said, moving to shake YN's hand then turning to ynbff. "You said you wanted a drink, right? Follow me – you don't mind right YN? Perfect."

YN blinked as he easily swept her friend away, leaving her alone with Oscar. And Pete, but he was chatting with a couple of the mechanics. Turning to smile at her favorite driver, she cleared her throat. "You're doing great this season so far," she said.

"You think so?"

"Well yeah. You're already ahead in points as opposed to last year at this time. I know you've had a couple less than stellar races this season, but you're consistently top five and you had fasted laps a few weeks ago at Miami. You'll get a podium soon I know, and you're definitely good enough to get your first win." Realizing she was starting one of her rambles, she felt her cheeks grow warm and pressed her lips together. "I'm not biased, honestly. Just because you're my favorite driver—"

"I'm your favorite driver?" he asked softly.

She was sure she imagined the hint of wonder in his voice. "Well… Yeah."

He grinned and she was momentarily dazzled. "I'm honored."

"You're young and passionate, and more importantly, you're good. I've seen people brush you off because you don't have an outlandish personality but I think it's a benefit to you. If you steadily cry for attention people won't be surprised when you earn it."

As she talked she moved, and she didn't realize they were walking together until they reached the barrier. He leaned against it, continuing to tell her about his late night drive of the circuit as soon as he'd arrived in Monaco.

mclaren

liked by charles_leclrec, ybffn, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others mclaren: We think we've discovered ynyln's favorite driver 👀 What are you talking about, oscarpiastri?? scuderiaferrari: please return our guest 😤 mclaren: no 😌 landonorris: you mean I'm not the favorite?????? user5: stop this is so cute!! user9: her face tho. same, yn, same user4: the way he's smiling omg

ynyln

liked by mclaren, ybffn, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: it was completely accidental that I found myself near the McLaren garage, and this lovely guy from Australia was kind enough to tell me how I got lost then escorted me back to Ferrari. Undying thanks to oscarpiastri, otherwise I'd still be wandering the streets of Monaco. (Ferrari's jokingly(?) threatened to lock me in hospitality for the rest of the weekend) mclaren: blink twice if you need rescuing oscarpiastri: always happy to help out 😊 (liked by author) user4: oh no he has no rizz 😩 user5: ugh this is so flipping cute user2: he's blushing!!!! AGH

ynyln

liked by charles_leclrec, mclaren, oscarpiastri, landonorris, and others ynyln: an amazing day. I'm in awe at all the work and dedication that goes into the vroom vrooms. Thank you so much scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, f1! (Now to crash because I'm waking up at 5am) scuderiaferrari: ❤️❤️❤️ charles_leclerc: it is already an honor. This week is going to be incredible! ynyln: c'est déjà incroyable user2: oop user3: "an honor" sir she stayed at ur house last night oscarpiastri: 5am?? Do you hate yourself? ynyln: sometimes but this is for TOP SECRET RECORDING oscarpiastri: Is it top secret because it's top secret or because you're doing it so early? oscarpiastri: also please don't hate yourself ynyln: it's a human weakness I'm afraid. And it's top secret because I haven't told the label I'm working on new songs already. But I promise to work on my self esteem oscarpiastri: I can't wait to hear them. ynyln: if I don't pass out I'll drop by mclaren's garage and give you an early access listen oscarpiastri: you can pass out at our garage (liked by author) user4: maybe he does have rizz mclaren: we can kick lando out of his room if you need a nap tomorrow, YN (liked by author and oscarpiastri) landonorris: no?? mclaren: changing the access code now ynyln: I watched the hub tour, can I take oscar's room? (liked by oscarpiastri) mclaren: done oscarpiastri: wait user8: hey scuderiaferrari, mclaren's tryna steal your girl scuderiaferrari: she'll have extra security tomorrow

"OSCAR!"

Oscar jerked, nearly hitting his head on the underside of the shelf, as Lando burst into his room. "Jesus Christ, mate," he groaned, backing out and turning to look at his teammate. "What?"

"Are you fixing the room up for YN?" Lando waggled his eyebrows as he looked around.

"Oh fuck off," he muttered, going back to plug in his laptop. "How are you this energetic so early?"

"Early?" Lando scoffed, flopping onto the couch. "It's almost noon. We've got the thing in forty-five minutes—"

"And you have nothing better to do than annoy me?" Oscar asked, kicking Lando's feet off the couch before sitting down to open his laptop.

"No? But also I'm here to offer my services."

With a heavy sigh, Oscar closed his laptop and set it aside. "What are you talking about?"

"You and YN."

Oscar just stared at him. "There's no and."

Lando waved one hand. "I saw the pictures, mate. Did you see the pictures?"

"Pretty sure I did? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Sitting up, Lando whipped out his phone and opened his photo album. "One perk to being so nice is the social media admin sends me any pics I ask him to." Swiping through, he pulled up one and turned his phone so Oscar could see. "Exhibit A."

It was the same photo posted to the official mclaren account. The one of he and YN chatting at the barricade. "It's two people talking."

"That's not the point – It's the looking," Lando pushed the phone closer to him. "Until I saw this I didn't really understand the heart eyes for days meme but now? Osc, mate, she's into you."

He let out a humorless chuckle. "And you call me a muppet. No she's not."

"What were you talking about that had her smiling like that?" Lando swiped to another photo.

"I dunno." About home. Not a house, but the feeling of belonging. And how important music was in destroying barriers of language and lifestyles. He could have talked to her for hours, could have listened to her talk about what she used to escape her demons for days. "I think music."

"And here?"

Oscar kept his face blank, as though he wasn't staring at himself blushing and giggling over what YN had said.

"I know you care but sometimes your whole attitude is literally 'I don't give a fuck about this' in interviews and I gotta say: same."

"Ah… Media I think." He cleared his throat and got to his feet.

"Mate, it's alright to like her."

No it wasn't. "It's not like that."

"Right so you telling her the view from the dog's head is enchanting was just small talk?"

Lando was not going to let this go. "She saw my video of my hike and asked about it."

"And?" Lando threw up his hands when Oscar just looked at him. "That was your cue to say oh it's lovely, why don't we go together one morning!"

"Er… No, I'd never say something like that." Oscar shook his head. Not to mention she was tangled up with Charles...

"That's the problem—" Lando cut off when the door opened. One of the PR team popped her head in.

"Hi Oscar, you've got a visitor. She said you're expecting her so I'll bring her up?"

"Uh… Sure?" Oscar winced as his voice cracked on the word, dragging his hands over his face as the door clicked shut.

"Who's coming to see you?" Lando asked suspiciously, helping himself to one of the drinks from the fridge.

"I don't have a clue," he sighed.

"Maybe it's YN. She promised to drop by so you can hear her new music right?"

"Are you constantly reading comments?" Oscar muttered. "Yeah she did but I doubt she'd come straight—" He gulped when there was a knock at the door.

"Oh this is gonna be great," Lando giggled, taking a sip of his energy drink as he went to open the door. "Well hello! We were just talking about you."

It was her, because of course it was, she wasn't the type to make even the vaguest of promises then not fulfill them, and she was in his private room, smiling and bubbly as she greeted him and Lando, and—

Lando. Fuck's sake it would take an act of god to get him to leave the room now.

"All good I hope," YN said with a little laugh.

"Only the best," Lando promised. "Osc can't shut up about you."

"Shut up," Oscar groaned, drowned out by YN's giggle.

"I think it's so cute that you call him Osc. My assistant – ybffn? She calls him Pastry Boy."

Lando's eyes went wide, and Oscar groaned again when his friend burst into high-pitched laughter. "No but it fits! He does love a good pastry!"

YN swiveled her eyes to him and he felt his stomach twist. "Do you?"

"Oh god, yeah. My trainer hates it because I can't say no to a good pastry." He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering why his palms felt sweaty.

"Yeah I'm with you there. We went incognito in Paris just so I could buy and eat every pastry I wanted." She sighed happily at the memory.

"You can still go incognito?" he asked, surprised.

"Sometimes. Luckily no one knew which hotel I was staying at so we were able to sneak out without being noticed. And Pete was with us. When he's in jeans and a hoodie nobody pays attention to him. Plus it was raining so I was able to keep my hood up."

"What's your favorite pastry?" Lando asked casually.

"That's like asking a mother which child is her favorite…" YN scrunched her face and sighed. "Pain au chcocolate."

"Perfect choice, that's the best," Oscar said with a nod.

"Isn't it? I love pastry and chocolate, it's—"

"The best of both worlds," he finished with her.

"Yes!" She grinned and the twist in his stomach loosened, unleashing a swarm of butterflies.

"Oh this is so beautiful," Lando murmured, yelping when Oscar elbowed him in the ribs.

"Did you get to the studio?" he asked her.

"Yes." She practically glowed, shrugging off her backpack. Motioning for her to sit, he stumbled when Lando pushed him towards the couch. "I got two tracks down and a couple rough demos—" She pulled out a tablet, shoving her backpack to her other side as Oscar sat next to her.

Lando huffed and took the chair. "Oh!" he blurted, his expression innocent. "Did you want me to leave? I don't wanna ruin a private listening party."

"No it's fine." She flashed him a smile then turned her attention to the tablet. "The first one is just a demo. I'm not that great on guitar and it was last minute, so…"

Oscar listened as she rambled on about how she'd been inspired for the one and the second was a last minute burst she'd cranked out with just herself and the guitar. "Anyways," she said with a small shrug, handing the tablet to Oscar. "Just hit play."

He did, and was met with a strumming guitar. Then her voice, and he marveled at her ability to sing so beautifully so early in the morning. He glanced at her, saw she'd pulled her knees up and was nodding her head to the beat. I was enchanted to meet you. Please don't be in love with someone else. Please don't have somebody waiting on you...

ynyln has posted to their story

[caption: got lost at the mclaren hub oops]

YN smiled as she posted the story and locked her phone, picking up her cup to finish her coffee. She'd been hanging out with them for nearly two hours. Well, with Oscar. Lando had been in and out, giggling and giving Oscar knowing looks. "I should really get going."

Lando nodded, smiling. "Glad you liked the transition. If you ever want…"

Laughing, she patted his shoulder. "As soon as I'm ready to do a remix album I'll call you."

"Perfect." He nudged Oscar and tipped his head.

Confused, because she could tell Lando was trying to silently tell his friend something, she got her backpack and picked up her paddock pass. "I can see—"

"I'll walk you out," Oscar blurted, already on his feet.

"Thanks." Waving goodbye to Lando, she headed out of the room, smiling her thanks when Oscar opened the door for her.

"He's a bit mental, but he's alright," he said as they walked along to the stairs.

"Lando? My grandma would say he's hyper." YN headed down the stairs, stopping at the bottom to loop her pass over her neck.

"She'd be right," he chuckled.

She felt him tugging on her backpack and glanced over her shoulder to see him zipping the front compartments.

"Don't want you losing anything," he said. His cheeks tinged pink and she almost giggled.

"Thanks. Did you get a hike in this morning?" she asked once they were walking across the hub towards the exit.

"No, I did work in the gym. Did – Oh right you were at the studio."

"I'm gonna try to go tomorrow," she said. She wondered if Charles would want to join her.

"Do…" He cleared his throat, stopping just before they got to the doors.

"Hm?" She turned to face him.

"Would you, um…" His cheeks darkened and he ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, I'm bad at this."

Realizing what he was trying to say, she gave him a soft smile. "Do you want to come with me on the hike in the morning?"

He nearly sagged with relief. "I-if you want company, yeah."

"I'd love to." Taking out her phone, she unlocked it and handed it to him so he could give her his number. "I'll text you so you'll have me – What time did you want to head out?"

"Whenever you'd like. I don't have anything until afternoon." He handed her phone back with a smile.

Making sure to save him, she sent him a quick text - 👋🏻 – and leaned to kiss his cheek. "Text me later and we can make plans."

"Yeah, alright," he agreed.

"I'll see you in the morning, Oscar. Thanks for everything," she said, rolling her eyes when Pete appeared at her side. Exchanging farewells with Oscar, she held onto her phone as she left, glancing back to see Oscar watching her through the window. Used to Pete's surly silence, she didn't talk on the way back to the Ferrari hospitality center, unconsciously chewing on her lip as she thought over the day.

Taglist:

@lichterfee | @formulaal | @a-beaverhausen | @dullypully |

#charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc social media au #charles leclerc smau #f1 x reader #f1 social media au #f1 smau #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #my writings > cl > smau #my writings > op > smau

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evanpetersmybf · 9 months ago

Text

All he asked for was you

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Tate loves you too much. He would do anything for you, to keep you by his side, to make you love him forever. He would cross any line to make you his, it doesn't matter how evil it is... But was it really worth it?

Genre: ANGST!! and some smut

Word count: 5,104

Warnings: Obsessive, stalkish and violent behavior, implicit toxic relationship; mentions of weapons, murder, mental health issues, family issues, school shooting; use of Y/N, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v. (i hope i'm not missing any...) NOT PROOFREAD !!

A/N: English isn't my first language!! Sorry if I have some mistakes and if Tate's a bit ooc (i tried to keep him in character as much as i could). I wasn't sure (and still not) if this is good but I spent days writing it, so I had to post it.

A small playlist with songs that inspired me for this: monster by meg and dia, pacify her by melanie martinez, all i want is you by rebzyyx, skyfall by adele, psycho by doko, paparazzi by lady gaga, dark red by steve lacy.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate never believed in love, nor was he a romantic one.

In fact, he despised it. How could he even believe in that feeling when he never felt loved by his own mother? At least that’s what he pretended.

The blond always had the facade of a tough guy, although he couldn’t fool anyone. Constance knew well he was a sensitive boy. Probably the most crybaby ever to exist… And the most unstable one.

Now he was here. His chest going up and down, breathing shallow and fast. His eyes were darting around the room, looking for something or perhaps someone. Some silly tears were rolling down his cheeks while he anxiously fidgeted with a ring on his finger. The clock on the wall continued its tick-tack. The time kept running. His heart kept beating. It was getting late.

He refused to look at the wooden floor. He didn’t want to accept reality. If Tate did that, he would feel like the biggest monster on Earth.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t stay like this.

He had to do something real fast.

Today, 18:40

You were supposed to arrive at 19:00.

But he remained there, next to the corpse of his rival. A bloody ax beside the dead man’s bleeding head.

Whom he thought was his worst enemy, was someone really dear to you.

Well, Tate fervently believed this was something justified. He couldn’t stand that fucking asshole anymore! That scumbag needed to be put back in his place. And Tate only did that. Furthermore, he actually helped him. He took him away from this shitty world. It was a favor.

He had already killed his mother’s boyfriend, so why was he feeling guilty?

Maybe because his victim was special to you. Because his death would hurt you. And Langdon swore to God he would never let anybody or anything hurt you, including himself.

He loved you.

He wanted to be the one to hold your hand forever.

Tate snapped back to the present and frowned. He picked up the weapon, putting it in his backpack. He didn’t even mind cleaning it. Then, he proceeded to knelt right next to the lifeless dude and cleaned the blood surrounding his body; afterwards, he dragged him to the basement and…

19:00

A knock on the door.

You arrived.

“DAMN IT!”

He left his dead foe lying limp on the cold basement ground and quickly ran upstairs, straight to his room. He also left the backpack there.

Tate spent the last twenty minutes cleaning the mess he made in the living room after he atrociously smashed your friend’s head, forgetting that had poor time to get ready.

He desperately looked for clean clothes, scrambling the entire closet in search of fresh garments while he cussed at himself, at his mother, at that freaking boy, at the entire world but you.

Finally he found some jeans and a striped shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror after changing and cleaned the tiny drops of blood that stayed on his face and hands. He never realized he left the bloody clothing on the bed.

Another knock.

19:07

Tate opened the door, immediately throwing himself at you and giving you one of the warmest hugs. His demeanor with you was completely different; you were the only creature capable of changing his fucked up mind into something more beautiful, more peaceful. The issue was that it only happened when he was with you, otherwise he would be aggressive and rude as usual.

You got the best of him.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much, babe…” Voice muffled since his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Tate always did the same thing; clinging onto you like a small koala would.

“Heh, me too, hun!” You spoke with the same soothing voice he adored. Tate giggled and placed a tender kiss on your jawline, then another, and another, and another.

Soon enough, he was peppering kisses all over your neck, making you moan softly. Oh those sounds. He could hear you melting under his touch, his embrace, for the rest of eternity.

He loved making you squirm, making you laugh, making you feel loved.

He was way too sweet.

Only if you knew.

Four weeks before today…

Tate has always had the bad habit of stalking you. Yeah… He wasn’t proud of it. But can you blame him? He’s constantly afraid of you leaving him. He wanted to make sure you never did so… Otherwise he would die. Literally.

Don’t ask how he would die. You already know the answer.

You two were supposed to have a date, albeit you had to cancel your meeting.

And that, of course, made him overthink. It didn’t matter how many times you told him you were going to study; he felt betrayed, as if you were rejecting him. And Tate hated and feared rejection to the bone.

“Pretty please? Please, Y/N! I don’t wanna go home early, mom’s gonna be there and-and–”

“Tate, I can’t skip this. I have like, a test every day next week and I must study. I don’t wanna fail. Please, sweetie. I promise I’ll make it up to ya’, mhm?”

He rolled his eyes and whined, almost throwing a tantrum. He didn’t try to manipulate you on purpose. It came out naturally. “But I need you, Y/N! Why do you always do the same, huh? Am I not that important? Don’t you love me any longer?”

His childish crying continued for a couple of minutes, until it stopped and the blond agreed a deal with you.

You thought he was calm now, but no. How naive.

You went to the library to study as you said… Without noticing he followed you.

Quietly, he got into that maze of books after you and hid behind some shelves.

Tate noticed you sat on an empty table. Thank God. Oh?

Who. Is. He.

A man Tate didn’t know sat next to you. Really close. Too close for Tate’s liking. He tried to think he was a stranger, that he wasn’t going to talk to you… He was wrong.

He clenched his hands into a ball when he saw that idiot talking to you, and the worst part was that you followed suit. It seemed you two were friends or something.

How DARE YOU talk to another man? No, how dare you talk to another HUMAN BEING!?

Tate was insecure 24/7.

If you weren’t there, Tate was falling apart. It was simple.

No Y/N, no happy Tate. Was it too hard to understand?

Three weeks before today…

It was Friday. Tate was impatiently waiting for you outside the campus, hanging a small bouquet of flowers he picked up.

Once he spotted you coming out from the building, he waved his hand and embraced you tightly once you were in front of him. He gave you the adorable present.

“Tate!”

“How did you do? Did you pass your tests? Don’t tell me, I’m sure you did.” Said, grinning from ear to ear. He was away from you for an entire week. How did he survive? He didn’t know, but he was glad to have you with him again. “Tell me about your life in the last days, baby. Please? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years!”

There he was, the one and only drama queen Tate Langdon.

You talked about the tests, about how the teachers were being a pain in the ass (which clearly triggered in him the intense desire of hurting them because they stressed you), and… About a guy. The same guy from the library, with whom you spent the entire last week studying. He couldn’t stand it. He saw him as a threat to your relationship, especially since he was an old friend that you met many years ago.

As the days went by, you gave him more reasons to hate that jerk. Why? Well of course because you spent hours at the library doing homework or studying with him. Or even hanging out with him and other people.

In reality, you went out with him to a museum just once, and then skating with other colleagues. Nothing compared to the time you spent with Tate; in a week, you would hang out with him almost daily, and if you were way too busy, he would go to your place and spend the night there. He was so attached to you to the point he had to see you at least once a day. And that’s why he was so jealous of your friend. Tate couldn’t stand the idea of you sharing your life with someone else who wasn’t him or your family… And he also got jealous of them, but he was handling it.

Two weeks before today.

After Tate’s pleas, you decided to introduce your friend to him.

Probably a big mistake.

The date was really awkward; your friend tried being nice, and Tate acted surprisingly kind. Of course it was odd; usually, he despised all of your friends and treated them badly, yet this time was different. You were stunned, however, you tried to ignore it and instead got happy as he finally accepted a random person as your buddy.

Still and all, he hated that moron. It didn’t matter how much he tried liking your pal, he was jealous of him. He was getting on his nerves. He denied the fact that you had more love for other people that wasn’t him. Tate desired being your only one. Your number one. Your entire world. Because that’s what you were for him. And he was willing to do whatever to keep you with him.

Tate exchanged numbers with him and meticulously plotted a plan to ascertain he would never talk to you ever again. At first, it came out as a simple “I’m gonna scare the shit outta him”, nonetheless, it turned into a darker idea, very likely involving physical violence.

One week before today…

The last few days, Tate won Peter’s trust. Ah yes. That’s your friend's name. You were glad that he finally opened his warm heart and began to meet more people besides you.

You thought he needed a friend, an empathetic person who could support the blond when you weren’t available, that way he would feel less lonely and depressed.

They went to the cinema, to the arcade, even to a music store. Everything was going according to what he planned.

Eventually, he invited Peter to his place to play chess and other board games on a Sunday afternoon, before you arrived and had a date with Tate due to your anniversary.

Today, 16:00

Peter and Tate were eating pizza and having a great noon, talking about their lives and random stuff, like school and music. They both enjoyed Nirvana, and since Peter played the guitar, he agreed on teaching your boy how to.

If it weren’t for Tate’s twisted mind, they would’ve been best friends.

The guitarist wasn’t a bad guy. He was a great buddy that really appreciated you and the crybaby, but Langdon had something else in mind.

18:00

The men watched a movie. Tate didn’t even know its name; in fact, he didn’t even pay attention to it. Instead, he was focused on his next actions, plotting them carefully.

“Crap, mom’s gonna arrive soon…” Tate mumbled with annoyance, biting his nails and tapping his foot on the floor. He was lying. You were going to arrive, not Constance.

“Damn, bro. Well, I don’t have a problem. I wanna meet her.”

“Huh? No no no, you shouldn’t. That bitch is crazy.”

Peter scoffed, disagreeing with Tate’s rude manner to call his own momma.

“Hey, you shouldn’t talk like that. I bet she loves you!”

That pissed him off. “You don’t know anything, Peter. Your family is different. Your life’s different. You won’t understand!” He yelled, standing up from the couch and now pacing around the room, trying to keep it calm.

“Dude, calm down!

“NO! I fucking won’t!”

The screaming continued for a while. Tate revealed his unstable and crystal self. Even something so insignificant could drive him to the edge, like what happened today. That definitely surprised the other one, who used to think that Tate was a sweet boy. “I dunno why Y/N is dating you.”

“What did you say?” Tate abruptly stopped pacing.

“Y/N. Y/N doesn’t deserve you.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT!?” He pounced on Peter, gripping his neck with one rough hand, applying enough pressure on the sides to stop the blood circulation in his carotids and make him lose consciousness.

Before passing out, Peter, getting pale, managed to croak out: “Because she deserves better…”

Soon enough, he fainted, giving Tate minutes to think about what else to do.

Your boyfriend wasn’t planning on murdering Peter today. No, he didn’t have time. He also was supposed to meet you.. But this was the perfect excuse! And not only that; he indirectly admitted he was in love with you! Or that’s what Tate interpreted with his delusional point of view.

Peter didn’t feel anything romantic for you, he was just worried Tate might be too unhinged to be your partner.

Thus, he went to his room and grabbed his backpack. Then, went to the garden shed and picked up the ax that belonged to his father, and a bottle of lye.

He had to get the job done quickly, nevertheless, he lost track of time.

18:30

Tate came back to the living room, just to notice that Peter wasn’t there anymore.

“FUCK IT!” Langdon got nervous. What if he escaped? What if he told you that Tate was crazy? He couldn’t allow this, not at all.

Thankfully, or maybe not, Tate found Peter crawling towards the front door, the poor dude still feeling dizzy after being choked.

Tate didn’t have any mercy.

“Where do you think you’re going, lil’ piece of shit!?”

18:38

Tate finally did it. He brutally murdered Peter, smashing his head several times with the ax.

He got rid of that little issue. He took him to somewhere clean.

Once he assured the other man wasn’t breathing, he dropped the weapon on the floor, making a loud metallic thud.

19:10

Tate was pinning you down on the couch, the same couch where your dead friend was sitting just an hour ago.

His hands were traveling all along your body, tracing sweet patterns on your skin.

Eventually, his fingers were clumsily pulling down your panties, not minding to take off your skirt. “Did you bring this for easy access, baby?” Tate chuckled and buried his face between your legs, holding your thighs in place; his lips plastered messy kisses over the warm flesh, biting it and leaving tiny marks after sucking.

Your reaction was alluring to him; he enjoyed listening to your pleas, to your whimpers. If it was for him, he would spend the entire day making you cum over and over again.

He finally got rid of your underwear, tossing it aside. Without further ado, the boy spread your folds with his large digits, and continued to lick your throbbing wet cunt.

“So fucking pretty… So wet for me, huh?”

His tongue lapped your small clit two or three times, then, traced a zigzag and circles on the sensitive nub. While he devoured you, he inserted his middle and ring finger, pumping them in and out of your cute hole, curling them and hitting the right spot to make you feel butterflies.

Tate could feel his arousal growing; his erection being restrained by the tight fabric of his jeans. He was desperate, yeah. But he always put you in the first place, and that included pleasuring you before him.

After a while, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, fucking your pussy with the agile muscle and now rubbing your clit with his thumb, applying pressure that sent electric waves through your body. He stopped using his tongue on you and instead looked at that stunning face of yours. He was delighted with your flushed cheeks, with every single gesture you did, with the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He wanted to take a picture of you to remember this moment forever.

His thumb increased the pace, while his free hand lifted up your blouse and tried to undo your bra. He couldn’t. You giggled when he groaned in frustration; he was too horny to think straight and that’s why you helped him to take off the garment.

Tate sighed and after that awkward and funny moment, he kept rubbing your bud, using your own juices and his saliva as a lubricant, intensifying the sensation. His left pinched and pulled your nipple, making you gasp and twitch beneath him, whilst his mouth abused your other one, greedily sucking on it.

“Tate, ‘m gonna cum! I-”

Tate cut you off by kissing you harshly; his tongue invading your warm mouth, exploring it and then nibbling your bottom lip until it bleeded. He licked the tiny drops of blood, savoring the metallic taste of it.

Unable to hold on any longer, you reached your orgasm, coming undone while Tate kept caressing your pussy, decreasing the velocity while you finally calmed down.

He left you panting; your heart beating so fast just like his.

You tried to sit up on the couch, breathing deep for more air, but the blond prevented you from going away.

“Where do you think you’re doing? We’re not done yet, you’re gonna cum again!”

Tate carried you bridal style and went upstairs straight to his bedroom. He threw you on the bed.

Without stopping looking at you, he unbuckled his belt and pulled down his jeans along the boxers; his dick already erect and throbbing, the veins thick and the tip leaking precum.

Using the clear liquid as lube, he stroked his shaft for a while, jerking off to the sight of you. He groaned and whimpered, closing his eyes as his hand pumped himself.

One of your hands went to your breasts, massaging them softly as your right went down between your legs, slowly teasing your womanhood and coating your index finger with your arousal, using it to rub your aching bundle of nerves.

Tate’s dark room was now filled with both of your moans; Tate calling your name several times and you begging him to fuck you.

He couldn’t stand this anymore. He NEEDED to be inside you, to feel your warmth enveloping him. “On all fours. Now.” You immediately obeyed, feeling as eager as him.

“Look at me, mhm?” He positioned behind you and rubbed the tip against your wet folds, teasing you for a bit. Afterwards, he slowly entered his cock inside your slit, moving it slowly at first. His thumb went to your clitoris, toying with it just like minutes before. He picked up the pace and fucked you fast and hard; his cockhead brushing your cervix. Grabbing a fistful of your hair, Tate pulled your head towards him, still with the deep thrusting. “Fuck, Y/N! You’re so pretty… So fucking precious, so fucking mine!” Moaned against your ear, voice raspy and agitated.

Panting, you stopped looking at him and instead looked to the bed. Why? Who knows, but you did it. And you saw Tate’s dirty clothes. Dirty with blood. A lot of blood.

You froze. Maybe it was red paint?

“U-uh, Tate?” You muttered, feeling already bewildered by the sight. You tried not to jump into conclusions, although you knew Tate and he has always been… Secretive.. And aggressive, of course.

After your boyfriend heard your shaky whisper, he stopped moving, even if he wanted to keep going. “Hm?”

“What’s this?” Tate sighed and pulled out from you, not understanding what you meant.

“What’s what?”

Without saying anything else to him, you grabbed the shirt and touched the weird stain. It was still fresh. You took your fingers to your mouth to taste it; and the metallic tang was too obvious. “Tate, what the fuck is this!?”

You threw it at him. Freaked out, you stood up and picked up your clothes, putting them on again, all meanwhile Tate connected the dots and realized he was probably going to get caught.

“Wait, Y/N! It’s not what it looks like, I swear, damn it!” He yelled and grabbed your arm, not wanting you to leave like this. He had to save his reputation, he couldn’t let you think bad of him even if you had all the right. Because, why the fuck the fabric was soaked in blood?

“Then what is it, Tate? WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD!?”

“CALM DOWN, PLEASE!”

You attempted to get away from his grip, struggling with him until, somehow, you managed to do so. However, you tripped with his dirty shoes and fell, realizing they were also stained with the red liquid. “Tate, what…? Why? What is this?”

“Nothing, I swear!” He didn’t have any excuses. Saying it was paint would’ve been lame. You were too smart and he knew lying wasn’t a good choice.

Feeling overwhelmed with the matter, you went downstairs, walking as fast as you could. Passing through the living room, a very familiar bag caught your eye. It was definitely Peter’s. You decided to grab it and realized it had his phone inside. Something was off.

Tate was standing behind you; fists clenched and heart beating like crazy. He tried to approach you, still thinking about what to do or what to say.

“Tate… What is this doing here? Peter’s here?”

“Huh? Yeah… He— He came earlier and had to go soon, he left this accidentally, yup…” You could see him fidgeting with that ring on his finger, again.

“Bullshit!”

Tate scowled and grabbed your chin, making you look at his dark orbs. “Tell me, Y/N, do you trust me or not, huh? Look me in the eyes and say you don’t!”

The struggle continued for what seemed eternity. You trying to run away from the house and he trying to make you stay. “Please, Y/N, just listen to me!”

“You did something to him, right? I know him, Tate! He would NEVER leave his phone like this! Is this a joke?”

“Why do you care so much about that asshole!? What has he done for you!? Tell me!”

“Oh my, you’re jealous! I knew it! All that crap about being his friend was a lie, right? Tate, you’re being delusional! I can have friends, I can hang out with whoever I want, whether you like it or not!”

Tate pressed your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, squeezing the flesh with his veiny, big hand, pressing it tightly enough to leave the mark of his long digits on it.

“You can’t! You’re mine. Only mine. Since the day you were born you were meant to be mine. Not his, not anybody, just me.”

“Tate… We should end this…” You thought this was the best for both. Being in a relationship with him was draining; always being careful to not hurt him, make him jealous or mad. He was such a sensitive boy that always took everything too personally. He felt everything a little too much.

Since the beginning you knew he was unstable and that he had many issues, but you tried to see beyond his sick mind, you tried to understand him despite being so different.

Tate felt so safe with you. You were the only person who understood him, or at least made attempts to.

He felt rejected by the entire society, even by his own mother, until he met you and he had a minimum spark of hope that the world didn’t suck that much.

That’s why he clung to you. That’s why you were his everything. He would lose his mind if you leave him.

He felt like dying when he heard you wanted to finish the relationship.

He couldn’t breathe.

Some tears were now falling to the floor, his eyes puffy and an ugly frown on his face. His mouth twisted as he sobbed loudly, tugging the hem of your shirt while he begged you to stay. He was crying like a newborn, like a baby who had to be apart from his mother for a second.

“No no no no, you can’t do this to me!” He whimpered, his speech cracking as he tried to hold you close whilst you were stepping back. You were slipping through his fingers, you were leaving him.

“Tate, if something happened to Peter, I will never forgive you! Can’t you see you’re hurting me?”

Tate swore he would never hurt you, nor let anyone. But here he was, finally snapping out of it and seeing the cruel truth.

“You’ve been hurting me the whole time, Tate! I tried to understand you, I really did, I tried to help you, to save you from yourself! But it’s impossible. I’m losing myself here with you, I don’t even know who I am anymore! You don’t want help, do you? ‘Cause it doesn’t matter what I do, you’re never satisfied! You suffocate me!”

All those words were like daggers penetrating his skin, touching his nerves and making him die of pain. You were tearing him apart, just the way he was destroying you.

He finally let go of you, feeling a tornado of emotions. Tate felt depressed, mad, resentful, like he was going crazy. Though, he knew he had to leave if that’s what you wanted. He couldn’t bring himself to break another promise.

Thereby, he confessed his crimes to you. He explained he killed his mom’s partner a few days ago, and that now he had killed your friend. Why? He was jealous, he was scared you’d left him. You did it before you discovered the cruel reality, anyways. That’s why he told you. Because he couldn’t lose anything else.

The situation was utterly disgusting. Tate was sick. He murdered an innocent man and then proceeded to fuck you, as it was the maximum test of love, as if his life meant nothing.

You knew he wasn’t what people often considered “normal”. But this was definitely more than just being a “weirdo”. Tate needed psychiatric help… And being arrested, of course.

“You make me wanna puke, Tate! You’re the evil!”

Without hesitating, you left Tate behind, running as fast as you could from that living hell.

You just wanted to cry, curl up into a ball and wake up from this nightmare. You wished it was merely a bad dream.

Tomorrow morning, you’d go to the police, but for now you needed to sleep.

Monday morning, 11:05

You couldn’t sleep all night. You spent hours thinking about everything, about how this looked like a cruel joke to you. Eventually, you fell asleep at 4AM, and didn’t wake up at what seemed almost midday.

An intense sound of police sirens woke you from your slumber. Startled by the loud noise, you rubbed your eyes and went to the window, trying to get a glimpse of what was happening outside.

Police cars and SWAT vans were going in a specific direction… Towards Tate’s street. It couldn’t be, right?

Did his mother find the corpse? Or perhaps something else?

You looked at the clock, realizing it was late and you had to go to class.

08:00

After the most painful night of his life, Tate decided today everything would be over.

He had to cleanse the world… To take people to somewhere else, to some place full of peace away from the piss and the vomit that runs down the streets.

He was doing this not only because of your breakup, but also because of many other reasons. Your split up was the straw that broke the camel and drove him to the edge.

10:40

After shooting the school, Tate left the place, looking unfazed about what he just did. He was unhinged.

He peacefully got into his place, went to his room and stayed there for some minutes.

The blond sat on the edge of the bed, leaving the gun right next to him and stared at nothing. His gaze was empty, but also there were some tears threatening to spill.

His mind was a whirlwind. Some part of him was satisfied, but the other was confused, wondering what was he thinking, what had he done?

What would you think of him now? Were you even there? Did he kill you too and he didn’t even notice?

In the end, he recognized he indeed was the evil you said. Damn it. You were right, again, as ever.

Tate wanted to hear your voice, to comfort him, to hear you saying everything was okay. That he’d be okay. He desired to hear “I love you” from you once more.

11:15

You went downstairs to find your family apparently mourning you.

They thought you were at school when the shooting happened. They believed you were gone, but here you were.

Eventually, they explained to you what happened.

The first thing that popped into your mind was Tate’s wellbeing, still unaware that he was the culprit. You were afraid something terrible could’ve happened to him, you were regretting your last words to him, but you also had to get him prisoner.

Your heart dropped when they explained to you he was the shooter.

No, it couldn’t be possible.

It was possible. After all, he had already killed two men.

Even if you despise what he did, some part of you still longed for him, still was in love with his once kind heart.

A terrifying feeling of dread filled your body, making you feel numb, as if none of this was real…

11:25

After running to Tate’s house and seeing it surrounded by the cops and the SWAT team, everything stopped. Constance’s distressed cries and pleas were heard from outside, followed suit by the sound of bullets. It was over now.

Tate was certainly a troubled individual who dedicated his entire life to searching for something, to feel something, to feel loved.

All he asked for was love, to be loved, to love. All he wanted was you.

But at the same time, your love led him to an never-ending obsession that ultimately broke both of you.

He became your biggest regret.

All he feared, all his nightmares came true. Everything he was so afraid of was him and only himself.

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ruewrote · 2 months ago

Text

𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢.

PAIRING: josh washington x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: make you feel my love by adele WORD COUNT: 998 REQUESTED: yes

navigation | ask | josh washington masterlist

the soft hum of the early morning settles over the room, the light just beginning to filter through the curtains, a golden hue draped across the walls. it’s quiet, that kind of stillness that only comes just before the day wakes up, when the world feels like it belongs only to you. the air is cool, but under the blankets, everything is warm, cozy.

josh stirs first, his body shifts gently beside yours, though not enough to wake you. he never does, not right away. there’s a certain rhythm to the way he moves in the mornings, slow and deliberate, but careful not to disturb the moment too soon.

he’s never in a rush, not when it’s about the two of you.

you can feel his subtle pull as he wraps his arm around you, drawing you closer without a word.

he’s always been warm, like he carries the heat of a summer's day with him, even in the early hours of the morning. his chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. your head rests there, ear pressed against him, catching the gentle thud of his heartbeat. it’s the kind of sound that lulls you back into sleep, that makes you want to sink deeper into the sheets and never leave.

josh breathes out, his breath a soft whisper through the silence. it’s not much, just a low, contented sound that you wouldn’t even catch if you weren’t so close. his hand moves absently along your arm, tracing those familiar, lazy patterns that he’s been doing for as long as you can remember.

just the simple, tender way his fingertips glide over your skin. he never needs to say much in moments like these. his actions speak way louder than words ever could.

a soft kiss lands on the top of your head, light but full of affection. he presses his lips there for just a moment longer than usual, as if he’s trying to hold on to the stillness that surrounds you, before the world outside the blankets starts to demand your attention.

you feel him shift slightly, his chin brushing against your hair as he buries his face there for a second, breathing you in.

eventually, you stir, not quite ready to leave the comfort of sleep but slowly drifting into wakefulness. the weight of his arm draped over you is reassuring, grounding, and you can’t help but smile into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, the one he threw on last night when he climbed into bed beside you.

“good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, yet so soft. he pulls you just a little closer, if that was even possible, his fingers brushing against your hair now. there’s a smile in his voice, though you can’t see it just yet.

“mm... morning,” you mumble back, your words still heavy with sleep, but you shift enough to turn your face up toward him, catching the soft expression that’s spread across his face. his eyes are half-closed, the morning light just enough to catch the slight scruff along his jaw, admiring the way his smile crinkles the corners of his eyes.

he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead this time. soft, lingering, like it’s his way of easing you into the day. it’s slow, like everything with josh tends to be in the mornings. no rush, no hurry. just the two of you, still tangled up in each other.

“i set the coffee machine up on the timer last night so it should go off any minute now,” he says after a while, his voice still that low murmur, like he’s trying not to disturb the peace of the morning. “but we don’t have to get up yet.”

you hum in acknowledgment, your eyes slipping closed again. then the faint smell of coffee drifts in from the kitchen. but you don’t move. not yet. it’s still early, and neither of you are ready to leave each other's embrace.

his hand slides down your back, once again tracing familiar paths, slow and soothing. his touch is so light that it feels like he’s barely there at all, like he’s making sure he doesn’t pull you too far out of that sleepy haze. him pressed up against you, the steady beat of his heart under your hand. it’s all so comforting, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

you nuzzle into him, feeling his laughter rumble softly beneath your cheek. it’s low, the kind of laugh that’s more for you than anyone else. he presses another kiss to your hair.

“you good?” he asks quietly, you can tell from the way he’s holding you that he already knows the answer.

“mhm,” you murmur back, your voice sleepy and content. you’re not ready to fully open your eyes yet, not ready to leave the warmth of his body or the comfort of these quiet moments. you could stay like this for hours, wrapped up in the soft sheets, just the two of you in your own little world.

the day will come soon enough, but for now, it’s just you and josh, lying there in the golden morning light, the world outside the door far, far away. it’s these moments, the ones in between the hustle of the day, that feel the most like home.

eventually, the smell of coffee becomes too tempting, and you start to shift, stretching out of the warmth of the covers. but josh pulls you back, not ready to let go yet. he’s always been like that in the mornings. gentle, savoring every second.

“five more minutes,” he whispers, his voice soft against your ear.

you smile, settling back into him without protest. five more minutes. maybe ten. maybe the whole morning if you let it. as his arms wrap around you a little tighter, you again feel the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek,

yeah, the rest of the world can wait.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

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