#suddenly I was more in 11's shoes not wanting to face that

[wavebiders]

lrt what's ironic about 7a being a favorite of mine now is that I love it for the same reason young me struggled with it

[pitlanepeach]

Gentle Thing | OP81 + LN4

Summary — They’ve always been something soft, something golden—Oscar and Elodie. But then came F1. Then came Lando Norris, with his fast mouth and wide blue eyes. And suddenly, it’s not just the two of them anymore, because that was never how their fairytale was supposed to end. They were always supposed to be three.

Pairing — Oscar Piastri x Original Female Character x Lando Norris (MMF)

Word Count — 7k

My Masterlist

Melbourne, 2013 - Age 11 + 12

Oscar had a busted lip and a fourth-place karting medal clenched in his fist, and Elodie was painting delicate sparkles onto a pair of old ballet flats on her bedroom floor.

“You’re not gonna win every time,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And fourth isn’t that bad. You still beat, like, sixteen other people to the line.”

Oscar flopped back on her bed with a choked moan. “I don’t like being fourth.”

“Fourth seems to like you.” She grinned at him.

He glared at her. “Don’t remind me. I hate it. I’ve decided that the number four is my mortal enemy. I never want to come fourth again.”

Elodie glanced at him over the rim of her rhinestone-covered sunglasses. They were heart shaped. “You look kind of cute with a split lip.”

He cracked a smile despite himself, and in doing so, re-split the cut that’d tentatively started to heal. “Do not.” He argued.

She sighed. “You do. If I didn’t know that it was from you tripping over your own kart, I’d assume you’d been in a fight. Bad-boys are hot.”

He just stared at her, his eyebrows pulling together in disbelief.

Elodie Jade, his best friend since nursery school, was wearing a pink cotton sundress, smudged with glue and glitter. Her legs were curled under her like a cat and she was surrounded by cheap craft supplies.

Oscar had dirt under his nails and a gravel burn on his arm. He also couldn’t remember the last time he’d put on a pair of clean boxer shorts.

“I don’t want to be a bad boy,” he muttered.

“I know,” she said, flipping one of the shoes over delicately. He leaned over to look at them. They looked good. Better than before. More… Elodie. ”What do you think?” She asked, chewing on her lip.

“Pretty.” He told her.

She beamed.

⸻

Melbourne, 2017 - Age 15 + 16

They celebrated Oscar’s first European test session with pizza. Sat around the table, Elodie had fabric swatches strewn all over the kitchen.

Oscar had engine grease under his fingernails.

Elodie had a sketchbook open and a stress breakout all across her forehead.

“I might not get in,” she whispered, like saying the words out loud might somehow make them more likely to come true. “They only take like, thirty students a year.”

Oscar gave her a look, folding his piece of pizza in order to eat it more effeciently. “You will.” He told her. She blinked at him, venerability flashing on her face, and he sighed. “I mean it,” he said. “You’re really good at this stuff.” He pointed at the mannequin in the corner of the kitchen. It was covered in sewing pins and layered with a million different textured fabrics.

Elodie rolled her eyes and gave a tiny laugh. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She teased.

“It’s not even top ten.” He argued flatly. But then he bumped his knee against hers under the table. And she adjusted her position so that she could wrap her ankle around his.

Her smile was soft. Careful. Neither of them had mentioned the kiss, nor since it had happened. Two weeks ago, behind the garage after his last race, when she’d grabbed his face like she was scared of herself and he’d kissed her back like it was something inevitable, not something downright terrifying.

It hadn’t happened again since. But things felt different between them now. The energy was charged, like a million little sparks of electricity was connecting them now.

A week later, when her acceptance letter appeared in her email, she called him first.

He picked up on the second ring, groggy in some hotel room three time zones away. “Elodie?” He grumbled.

“I got in.” She said on an exhale.

She heard the rustle of sheets, the shift in his voice as he sat up. “You did?”

“I did.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. Wide and unguarded. “Of course you did.”

⸻

Paris, 2019 - Age 17 + 18

Elodie’s first collection debuted at a small fashion week offshoot in Paris; nothing major, but enough to land a few editorials and a feature in a niche luxury magazine. She wore custom satin sling backs to every event. She barely slept.

She was seventeen. In Paris, that passed for adulthood—old enough to wear red lipstick and pretend she wasn’t still full of childlike naivety.

Oscar wasn’t there. He was in the middle of a race weekend in Italy. But he sent flowers. And a note.

“I love you.”

She kept the card in her purse for weeks, until it crumpled. Then she put it in the back of her phone case. Just because.

⸻

Barcelona, 2020 - Age 18 + 19

Oscar had just won his first F3 race.

Elodie was waiting outside the paddock entrance, wearing a dress he hadn’t seen before; white, with puffed sleeves and ribbon-tie shoulders.

“You’re going to be a world champion,” she said, as he leaned into her hug. Squeezed her.

He breathed in the scent of the same perfume she’d been wearing for years and track dust and something sweet, always something sweet, and pretended the words didn’t make his stomach twist. “Just focused on surviving this season,” he murmured into her hair.

She leaned up. Kissed him softly. “You’ll do more than that.“

⸻

Baku, 2021 - Age 19 + 20

Elodie had a migraine and a décolleté crisis. Oscar had a back-of-the-grid start and an angry press officer breathing down his neck.

He called her from the cool tile floor of his hotel bathroom, lying flat on his back with his legs propped up against the door, phone balanced on his chest. His voice was hollow with exhaustion. “Tell me something not about racing.”

She didn’t even hesitate. “I stabbed my finger trying to sew lace onto a bias-cut bodice. I bled on the muslin.”

Oscar smiled faintly, eyes closed. “That’s hot.”

“You’re weird.” She laughed.

“You knew that when you started dating me.” He retorted.

She sighed, dramatic and fond. “Don’t remind me.”

He could picture her perfectly, even thousands of miles away, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her Melbourne studio, hair up in a velvet ribbon, sleeves pushed to her elbows, surrounded by half-dressed mannequins and tangled threads. Probably in one of his old team shirts. Probably glowing, even under ugly fluorescent lights.

“What happened with the bodice?” He asked.

“It didn’t sit right on the model. I cut it three times and it still looked off. Like the neckline was holding a grudge.” She paused, then added more quietly, “I think I’m going to reshoot the whole thing. The photos are wrong. The lighting’s wrong. The girls don’t… they’re beautiful, but they don’t feel like they fit my brand.”

Oscar let the silence stretch for a second, then said, “branding is important. Reshoot it.” He agreed.

“You make it sound easy.” She complained.

“Because I’m clueless.” He told her flatly,

That earned a breath of a laugh, all musical and pretty. She shifted on the other end of the line; he could hear fabric rustle, something ceramic clink, probably a teacup or a wineglass. Depending on her mood.

“Are you okay?” She asked eventually, voice somehow gentler than usual. It was impressive, how he’d managed to make someone so soft and goddamn sweet fall in love with him.

Oscar pressed his thumb into the space between his eyebrows. “Grid penalty. Shit quali. Everyone’s thinking the same thing — ‘that Aussie boy is a shit racer’.”

“You’re not.” She retorted.

He grunted. “Yeah. I know. But it’s loud. All the time. Even when they’re not saying it, they’re thinking it.”

Elodie didn’t try to offer empty comfort. She knew him too well for that. Instead, she filled the silence with her presence. Her breathing. The soft rustle of paper. The click of a lighter—one of the candles, probably.

“I miss you,” he said finally.

This time, she didn’t hesitate. “I miss you too.”

He opened his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling light. “Will you still love me if I crash tomorrow?”

“I’ll love you even if you spin into a barrier and throw up in your helmet.” She chimed.

“You’re weird.” He shot her earlier words back at her.

“You knew what you were signing up for.”

Oscar smiled, and it felt easier. He could hear her smiling, too.

They talked for another ten minutes—about the espresso machine in her new studio that hissed like it was threatening to explode, about her satin samples arriving late, about whether she should start doing video content for her website (“Only if I can be your cameraman,” he smirked, and then, just as he predicted, she sharply told him that him and his oily hands were not welcome anywhere near her fabrics).

⸻

London, 2022

The news broke at 8am.

By 8:15, her phone was hot with notifications.

ALPINE ANNOUNCE OSCAR PIASTRI AS 2023 DRIVER ALONGSIDE GASLY

F2 SUPERSTAR PIASTRI ANNOUNCED AS PART OF ALPINE’S 2023 LINE-UP

He didn’t call. Not right away.

Elodie watched the digital chaos unfold from the couch in their London flat. Her inbox buzzed with emails she didn’t open; old friends sending their congratulations, Oscar’s old racing teammates asking her a million questions like they expected her to be able to answer all of them.

Her next runway show was in six weeks. Her dressmaker had the flu.

When her phone finally rang, blocked number, go figure, she picked up before the first ring finished.

“Oscar.” She said, immediately.

“I’m with Mark.” His voice was ragged. “It’s not true. I didn’t sign anything.”

“I know. You would’ve told me.” She said.

“They went public without telling me.”

She closed her eyes. “I know.”

“I’m gonna lose everything.” He breathed.

“No, you’re not.” She whispered.

He let out a sound that cracked halfway through. Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to cry or scream. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

She stared at one of the paint swatches on the wall. They couldn’t decide between eggshell blue and jade green. “Let Mark handle it. Stop blaming yourself. And then come home.”

⸻

Oscar let the door click shut behind him and dropped his keys into the strawberry-print bowl by the front door. The flat was quiet, lights low, warm, but not empty. Never empty.

He could smell bergamot and fabric glue, the unmistakable signature of Elodie in work mode. Therefore he headed straight to her studio, alternatively known as the spare bedroom, exactly where he knew she’d be.

She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, pins between her teeth, measuring tape slung around her neck, one wrist marked up with lipstick and foundation swatches from testing tones against fabric. Muslin mockups draped her mannequins like half-formed dreams. Pattern paper curled like petals around her.

She looked like everything he wanted to protect.

“Hi, baby,” she said, not looking up from the sizing chart that she was editing.

He didn’t answer. Just toed off his shoes and crossed the room in silence. Then, without a word, he sat on the floor in front of her and leaned back into the space between her knees, his shoulders brushing hers. Seeking warmth. Permission to fall apart, just a little.

Elodie blinked down at him, reading the lines in his face instantly.

Without speaking, she set her work aside and slid her fingers into his hair.

She combed through it slowly with her long, artsy nails, brushing it back from his eyes, the way she used to when they were kids and he came home from a karting trip with scraped-up knees, still buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

He exhaled shakily. She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, then another to his temple, and another at the corner of his jaw when he tilted his face toward her.

“I’m sorry this is all such a mess,” he said after a long silence, voice rough.

“Not your fault,” she murmured.

He gave a half-laugh, tired and tight. “Still feels like I’m failing. Trusted Alpine. Shouldn’t have.”

“Osc.” She whispered.

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “you’re the only reason I’ve made it this far.”

Her hand paused against his head.

“I mean it,” he said. “You’ve built your brand, your vision, your whole world. You’re doing so well, Elodie. And I’m still here hoping this F1 thing finally makes me someone worth—” He cut himself off, jaw tight, voice cracking at the edges.

“Oscar.”

She leaned down toward him, eyes glassy with tears, and something twisted in his chest like a blade.

She wasn’t meant to cry. Elodie was meant to be light and elegance and all the soft, lovely things in the world. Seeing her like this—eyes shining, mouth trembling—felt like the universe folding in on itself.

It hurt. It hurt in a way he didn’t have words for.

She was too beautiful for sorrow. Too golden to be anything but happy.

“I haven’t made any real money,” he said quietly, feeling discomfort curl in his gut. “Not yet. And I want—God, I want to be able to give you something solid. A full, comfortable life. I want you to build your empire with silk and organza and not for one second have to worry about how we’re going to pay for your expensive fabric swatches.”

Elodie wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him into her chest, into her warmth. “You’ve already given me so much,” she said against his hair. “Your love. Your friendship. You.” She breathed delicately. “Oscar, I would live in a hobbit hole, or a tent in the woods, if it meant being with you.”

He was silent for a beat. “Did you see the tweet?”

She hummed. “Of course. I have your notifications turned on.”

He smirked, but it was hesitant. “It felt good.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “I bet. It was very sassy.”

He hesitated, the amusement wavering. “I might never make it to Formula One now. Might’ve burned too many bridges.”

She kissed the curve of his neck, soft and sure. “You will. Trust me.”

⸻

A Week Later - Melbourne, 2022

The evening air was warm, thick with the scent of salt and jasmine. Pale pink bougainvillaea curled over the railing like something out of a painting. The sky over St Kilda was soft watercolor gold, the sun bleeding into the horizon in quiet surrender.

Elodie sat curled on the top step in a white linen sundress, bare feet tucked beneath her, her hair pinned up with one of her mother’s old tortoiseshell clips. She looked like she belonged somewhere else, somewhere older, slower, more romantic. A character from a vintage novel, Oscar often thought, or the ghost of an eighteenth century ballerina.

There was a punnet of strawberries sat between them.

“I signed,” Oscar said, out of nowhere.

Elodie turned to him, eyes wide and impossibly clear. “I— What? Signed what?”

“With McLaren.” He said. “For 2023.”

She blinked once. Then twice. And then she smiled. Slowly. Radiantly. “You’re going to drive in Formula One,” she whispered, reverent and proud.

“I’m going to drive in Formula One.” He confirmed.

The words hung between them like starlight.

She didn’t cheer, didn’t gasp or throw herself into his arms. She just reached for his hand, gently—like it was instinct, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her palm was warm and soft against his. Her nails were painted a pale blush, her wrist dusted with the scent of gardenia, the diamond bracelet that hung off of her delicate wrist real and the most expensive thing he’s ever bought. He went into debt for it—but he’d never once regretted buying it.

She leaned forward until their foreheads touched, her long, painted lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

“You did it,” she breathed against his cheek.

“Yeah.” He smiled.

The screen door creaked behind them.

“God, you two are terrible,” came Mark’s voice, fond and dry. “Can’t keep you apart for five minutes, ay?”

Oscar didn’t flinch. Elodie only turned slightly, offering the older man one of her serene, almost too-sweet smiles. “Hello, Mark.”

“Evening, angel,” he said, walking down the steps with a bottle of wine tucked under his arm. “You look precious as always.” He teased.

“She doesn’t own anything without embroidery,” Oscar muttered, fond.

“I like pretty things,” Elodie replied simply. “And I like them even more when I’ve made them with my own hands.”

Mark snorted, crouching beside them and producing three slightly crushed paper cups from the depths of his jacket. “Alright, then. A toast. To Oscar, McLaren, the downfall of Alpine, and you, Elodie girl. You’ll be the prettiest WAG in the paddock.”

Oscar groaned, low and half-hearted.

Elodie blinked but smiled anyway. Oscar stared at her. The way her lips curved when she smiled, glossed and sparkling with flecks of glitter, caught the last bit of golden light like it was made for her.

Mark poured a generous splash of wine into two of the cups, then offered the third to Elodie. She took it with her fingertips, delicate and careful, and held it like it might bite.

She peered into it, nose wrinkling in the cutest little grimace.

“You don’t have to drink it,” Oscar murmured, leaning in, voice just for her.

Mark caught it. “Shit. Sorry, forgot.” Then, laughing, he pulled a can of Sprite out of his back pocket and handed it over.

Elodie beamed. “You’re my favourite person in the world.”

“Don’t tell Oscar,” Mark said with a wink.

She cracked the can open and leaned against Oscar’s side, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Her hair smelled like something citrusy and expensive, and he instinctively tilted his head so it brushed against hers.

Mark settled into the step below them, stretching his long legs out and launching into a story about his rookie season—something about a gearbox, a helicopter, and Jacques Villeneuve that probably wasn’t entirely legal.

Oscar only half listened.

His hand was resting over Elodie’s knee, thumb tracing slow, absent circles against the soft cotton of her dress. Her fingers curled lightly around his wrist. The sky was going grey-blue now, city lights flickering on in the distance.

And for the first time in a long time, Oscar let himself feel it.

Pride.

Not just in the contract, though that felt surreal in its own right, but in everything that had gotten him here. The endless hours of sim work. The thousands of karting tracks and cheap medals and grazed knees—bruised eyes. The months at a time spent away from Elodie, feeling every single mile like a knife to his gut.

All of it. Every sacrifice, every near miss.

It had all come together to lead him here.

To this perfect girl with stardust lips and sun-kissed skin. To this quiet moment on a warm Melbourne night, sitting with the two people who’d believed in him without question since the very beginning. To the knowledge that he hadn’t just made it to Formula One—he’d made something for them.

A life. A future.

He squeezed Elodie’s knee gently. She glanced up, emerald eyes catching the light, and gave him a soft, warm stare.

Yeah, Oscar thought. This is what it’s all for.

—

Oscar meets Lando on his first day at MTC.

It’s awkward. Fumbling. Lando fidgets, practically vibrating as he talks, clearly still getting used to the idea of being the team’s senior driver. That’s fine; Oscar has no intention of being anyone’s second driver, so Lando will get over himself soon enough.

They spend a few hours working on the sim before Lando takes him to meet the engineers. Zak’s there—beaming, boisterous, all overzealous shoulder pats and rib-crushing squeezes of enthusiasm.

Lando clings. As soon as he realises Oscar is nice, friendly, and capable of holding a conversation despite being quiet, blunt, and a little stoic, he latches on. Doesn’t stray more than five feet away all day. Talks too fast, changes topics mid-sentence, and circles back like it makes sense. Oscar mostly just nods. He doesn’t mind it as much as he probably should.

They eat lunch together in the cafeteria. Lando leans over the table with sudden, serious focus.

“You’re not allowed to eat fish,” he says.

Oscar blinks. Frowns. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he replies slowly, confused but—strangely—willing to go along with it.

Lando nods like that settles it.

Oscar drives himself back to London in the evening, exhausted in the way that only first days and new environments can make you. Elodie’s in her studio when he gets in, barefoot on the hardwood, her hair twisted up in a silk scarf, glue fumes thick in the air. She’s hunched over a mannequin, hands full of pearl beading, soft music playing from the little speaker on her windowsill.

He pushes the nearest window open to clear the smell before crossing the room and bending to kiss her. She tastes like strawberries and green tea, her lips soft and glossed, and she hums against his mouth like he’s exactly what she needed.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, brushing his nose along her cheek, already breathless.

She smiles, warm and dreamy, and the whole world sparkles at the edges.

“I missed you too.”

—

Elodie spends eight weeks hand-crafting her paddock outfit for Oscar’s first race as a Formula One driver in Bahrain.

It’s a labour of love—ivory silk, structured but soft, with a modest neckline and long, fluttering sleeves that catch on the breeze like petals. The beadwork is intricate, papaya-toned to match the McLaren livery, stitched in quiet, looping patterns down the cuffs and hem. Just above the curve of her hip, nestled into the folds of the fabric, is a tiny, hand-stitched OP81.

She steps into the paddock for the first time with her press pass clutched between two fingers, trying not to look as out of place as she feels. It’s loud and busy, the air dry and sun-hot, smelling of rubber and fuel and sunscreen.

Oscar waits for her at the McLaren hospitality entrance. He’s still in his civvy’s, shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He grins when he sees her. “You wore it.”

She smooths her skirt self-consciously. “Of course I did.”

His hand finds her waist. His thumb brushes the little OP81 like it’s a secret just for him.

They don’t get more than a few seconds before a voice interrupts—bright and slightly too loud, bouncing with energy. “Oh, hey!”

Lando Norris.

He’s flushed from the heat, curls damp at the edges, eyes wide behind dark sunglasses pushed back into his hair. He skids to a halt in front of them, adjusting the collar of his shirt like he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands.

Oscar steps back a little, hand still on Elodie’s waist. “Lando, this is my girlfriend, Elodie.”

Lando blinks at her. Then blinks again. “Oh. You’re real.”

Elodie smiles, polite, a little hesitant. “Yes. I think so.”

“No, I just—he talks about you a lot,” Lando says quickly, shifting his weight. “Not in a weird way. Just—like, normal. Nice. Supportive.”

Oscar groans softly. Elodie purses her lips softly.

“I’ve heard a lot about you too,” she says, and it’s not a lie. Oscar had mumbled things about “a bit chaotic” and “kind of funny” and “I think he eats four chocolate croissants a day, I’m not sure how it’s even possible.”

Lando rocks back on his heels. “You look amazing. That dress is… like… I don’t even know what it is.”

“She made it,” Oscar tells him.

Lando’s eyebrows lift. “No way.”

She manages a small nod. “I did.”

Lando whistles, low and sincere. “You’re way too talented to be stuck with him.”

Oscar elbows him in the ribs, but it’s gentle. Familiar.

Elodie just smiles again. Soft, poised, unreadable. But when Oscar glances down, he can see the curve of her fingers tightening slightly around his wrist.

Later, when Lando finally wanders off (mid-sentence, distracted by something shiny and unusual near the garage entrance) Elodie watches him go with a curious tilt of her head.

“He’s… nice,” she says softly.

Oscar hums. “He grows on you.”

Her gaze lingers a moment longer. “He races with the number four, doesn’t he?”

Oscar nods. “Yeah.”

She laces their fingers together with quiet ease. “You never liked that number.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

They walk slowly, past tire trolleys and engineers and the familiar hum of a team preparing for a new season. Oscar shows her where she’ll sit, where she’ll be able to see his garage and the track.

He squeezes her fingers once. “No,” he agrees. “I’ve never liked it.”

Elodie smiles, lightly, knowingly, and tucks herself closer to his side. He doesn’t say it out loud, but she can feel it anyway.

Maybe that won’t be true for much longer.

—

Zandvoort, 2023

It started raining midway through FP3. The kind of sudden, wind-lashed downpour that turned everything slick and halted everything. Engineers ducked under awnings, pit crews scrambled to cover tyres, media teams rushed to save their equipment.

Elodie hadn’t moved.

She stood just under the edge of the overhang at Oscar’s garage, rain misting across her face, curls slipping free from the tortoiseshell comb at the back of her head. Her papaya-hued trench coat had darkened at the seams, damp fabric clinging to her sleeves like second skin.

Lando spotted her before anyone else did.

He paused halfway through a sip of Monster, blinking. Tilted his head slightly. “Is she—why is she just standing there?”

Oscar looked up from the telemetry monitor and followed his gaze.

“Elodie,” he said. Softly. Simply.

Lando waited for more. When it didn’t come, he turned toward him, brows raised.

“She likes the sound,” Oscar said after a moment. “And the smell. Of the rain.”

Lando frowned. “She’s gonna get drenched.”

But Oscar didn’t move.

And Lando, already in motion, realised, for the first time, how strange that was. The lack of tension. The stillness. Like Oscar was fully in tune with everything Elodie was feeling, seeing, hearing.

Elodie didn’t flinch when Lando stopped beside her. She only looked up with that small, gentle smile—the kind that made him feel oddly exposed. Her eyes were soft and storm-lit. Her lips glossed with the same faint shimmer that seemed to settle over everything she touched.

“Hi,” she said, voice light.

“You’ll catch a cold,” he offered, extending the McLaren umbrella toward her with both hands, like he didn’t quite trust himself to just hold it over her and not stare.

She blinked up at him. “I’m alright, Lando,” she said. “It’s only a bit of rain.”

He blinked back. “Yeah, but—wet, innit?”

There was a pause. And then—she giggled. Actually giggled. It was light and breathless, like wind chimes. Clear and sudden and completely, utterly unexpected.

He liked the sound of it far more than he should’ve.

Inside the garage, Oscar still hadn’t moved. Arms crossed. Helmet tucked under one elbow. Watching.

He didn’t feel angry. Or possessive. Or anything he was supposed to feel. And maybe that unsettled him more than anything else.

Because Elodie looked lovely in the rain.

Raindrops clung to the edge of her skin. Her cheeks were pink with cold. The coat hugged her frame in a way that made her look even smaller than she was, her embroidery catching faint glints of light beneath the grey sky. She looked like she’d been painted there. Dreamlike. Half-imagined.

Lando adjusted the umbrella, held it closer. His elbow brushed hers.

She didn’t move away.

“I heard you cracked a joke in the drivers’ briefing,” she said. Like she was continuing a conversation they’d already been having.

Lando winced. Smiled around an embarrassed grimace. His cheeks went a little red. “Did Oscar say it was bad?”

“He didn’t need to, Lando.”

She smiled again. Fully, this time. Wide. With teeth. And somehow, it hit him differently. He’d seen that smile before, in passing—on Oscar’s phone, in paddock photos. But not like this. Not when it was for him.

It was beautiful.

And suddenly, painfully, he knew it.

He forgot everything else for a second. The team radios, the storm warnings, the puddle slowly soaking into his races shoes.

She was just standing there—rain in her hair, glitter on her lips, saying his name like it meant something good.

And Oscar was still watching. Quiet. Still. Something flickering behind his eyes.

Lando swallowed, glanced at his teammate and then looked away just as quickly.

Oscar worked his jaw; four had always been his least favourite number—his six-month long fourth place curse when he’d still been in karts had made sure of that.

So why, now, could he picture it stitched right beside 81? Papaya thread. The soft curve of her embroidery font. A quiet, private claim.

OP81. LN4.

He turned away before he could think too hard about what that meant.

Walked further into the garage with his hands curled into loose fists, flexing open and closed in a rhythm he didn’t quite understand.

—

Lando sank onto the little padded bench at the back of the hospitality suite, still damp around the ankles, the McLaren umbrella propped uselessly by the wall. He stared at it like it might tell him something.

Something useful. Like what the hell he was doing.

She was Oscar’s girlfriend.

That was the headline. That was the full story. Had been from the moment they’d first met, when she’d said hi in her quiet, polite way, like it didn’t even occur to her that she might be worth noticing. And maybe that was the problem.

She didn’t seem to know. That she was worth noticing.

He kept thinking about the rain. The way it made her eyelashes stick together in little wet triangles. The way she’d tilted her head when he fumbled through telling her not to stand outside—wet, like an idiot—and how she’d just laughed all sweetly.

He liked the way she looked at people.

But mostly he just liked the way she looked at him.

Lando dragged a hand through his hair and groaned under his breath. Somewhere across the room, someone was talking about tyre degradation, and he tried—tried—to focus. He’d never had trouble focusing on racing before. Racing was simple. Clean. Numbers and instinct.

This wasn’t.

Oscar had said nothing. Had just stood there watching, cool and unreadable as always. Not jealous. Not angry.

Just watching.

That was worse, somehow. Because it meant there was no line being drawn. No boundary to respect. No solid ground to stand on.

There was a brief knock, then a head poking in—one of the engineers. “You coming to the debrief?”

Lando blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”

He stood too fast and stumbled into the umbrella on the way out. It clattered to the floor behind him, and he didn’t stop to pick it up.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how she hadn’t stepped away.

And he didn’t know what that meant.

Not yet.

But he thought maybe Oscar did.

—

The flat smelled like garlic and basil. Warm bread, rain on a pavement. Elodie sat cross-legged on the kitchen bench, sketchbook balanced on her lap, pencil tucked between her fingers like it belonged there. She was wearing Oscar’s sweatshirt. The navy one with the loose hem and faded collar. Her hair was damp, curling where it dried against her neck.

Oscar set down her bowl without saying anything. Pasta with roasted tomato, soft white cheese melting at the edges. He poured her water—over ice, a piece of fresh mint.

Sat across from her.

She didn’t look up. Just kept sketching. Lines, flourishes, thread work. Something soft. Ornate.

Oscar watched her. Ate. The clink of cutlery, the soft scratch of pencil on paper.

“Dinner, Elodie,” he prompted eventually.

She looked up. “Mm. Thank you.”

They ate. Something French and slow playing from the little speaker near the stove. Her foot brushed his knee once. She didn’t notice. He didn’t move.

Then—

She turned slightly, already mid-thought. “Lan, do you…”

Pause.

Her head tilted. She stared at the empty seat on her left. Blinked once. “Oh,” she whispered.

Oscar raised an eyebrow.

She looked down at her pasta. Bit her lip, soft and unthinking. “Sorry. I meant—”

“Lando?” he asked.

She hesitated. Then nodded.

Oscar shrugged, like it was fine. Like he didn’t mind that they were sat here, just the two of them, eating dinner as they always had—and still, she’d turned to speak to someone who wasn’t even there. Like it had become muscle memory to expect him to be. Elbows on the table. Half a smile. Talking too loud about something too specific.

“He’s like that.” Oscar told her, quiet. “Clingy. Makes you think about him even when you shouldn't.”

Her fingers rested on the corner of her sketchbook. She didn’t speak, not at first. But he could see it in her—the flicker of thought. That little crease between her brows. Her teeth pressing gently into her lower lip.

Oscar leaned back in his chair. “Elodie.”

She blinked at him, her beautiful eyes shining. “Oscar.” She breathed.

They’d spent the first three race weekends of Oscar’s rookie season with Lando attached to them like a fifth limb. Traveling together, eating together, laughing together.

Hotel rooms that meant for two that ended up fitting three — Oscar and Elodie in the bed, Lando on the sofa (“I don’t really like being alone,” he’d said, once, and Elodie had hurt). Lando stealing the last of Elodie’s lip balm. Oscar accidentally wearing Lando’s boxers, and vice versa.

Now, it was quiet.

A lovely pasta. A one-on-one date night that mirrored a thousand they’d had before.

But suddenly it felt like there was a piece missing. A hyperactive, freckled, Monster-fuelled piece.

Elodie reached across the table, brushing her knuckles against the back of Oscar’s hand. Gentle. Like always. “I didn’t even realise,” she said softly. “That I was missing him.”

Oscar didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to.

They both already knew.

—

The hotel room was quiet.

Warm light filtered through linen curtains, brushing over the edge of the bed in pale, dusky streaks.

Oscar was on his side, propped up on one elbow. Elodie was tucked beside him, one leg thrown loosely over his hip, embroidery circle abandoned on the duvet. Her hair was still slightly damp from her shower, curling softly at her temples. She smelled like vanilla body oil and her expensive conditioner.

She always smelled lovely

The TV was playing something neither of them were paying much attention to—some old film, all long glances and black-and-white glamour. Oscar couldn’t tell if she’d chosen it for the aesthetic or if it had just been the first thing she’d clicked.

Elodie shifted slightly, gaze still fixed on the screen. Her thumb traced absent little arcs over Oscar’s ribs. His eyes fluttered shut.

Then the door slammed open.

They both startled. A thump, a muttered curse, and then Lando stumbled in, hoodie half-zipped, curls damp, cheeks splotched with red. “Sorry,” he said, breathless, kicking the door shut behind him. “Media stuff ran long. And then Jensen cornered me in the paddock.”

Elodie sat up a little, smiling, all warm and… Elodie. “Hi, Lando.”

Lando blinked at them on the bed, then dropped his bag to the floor with a heavy, tired thud. “Hi.”

Oscar didn’t say anything, but shifted back just enough to make space. Elodie tugged the duvet up. Without another word, Lando dropped onto the mattress like he belonged there.

His head landed somewhere near Oscar’s knee. He exhaled hard, a long, whiny sigh. “I’m dying.”

“You qualified second,” Oscar said, voice low.

“I’m emotionally dying,” Lando clarified. “That’s different.”

Elodie’s hand found the curls at the back of his neck. She didn’t say anything, just combed through them gently, rhythmically. Lando made a small, pleased noise, somewhere between a sigh and a hum. His eyes slid closed.

Within minutes, he was asleep. Sprawled halfway across the bed, long limbs thrown out like a starfish, mouth open, one hand curled loosely around the edge of Elodie’s embroidery circle. There was a smear of engine oil on his jaw and his socks didn’t match. One of them had a hole.

Oscar didn’t move. Just lay back against the pillows, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Elodie reached for his hand under the blanket.

She squeezed it, gently.

And just like that, they were three again.

—

Lando gives up pretending six weeks later.

Its been six weeks of sharing hotel rooms, of tiptoeing around each other, of lingering touches that were too soft to be anything but an invitation, of pillow talk that lingered in the air even after the lights went out. Of awkward glances when Elodie and Oscar ask the front desk, “Do you have any bigger beds?” because they both knew the time would come. And yet, none of them quite dared to speak the words out loud.

But now, standing in the paddock in Austin, Lando can’t take it anymore.

He corners her, pulling her into the dark corner between the motorhomes, where no one can see them. There’s a strange sense of urgency in his chest, and the way her bohemian dress flows around her, catching the light just right, makes his stomach twist and curl.

She looks up at him, those wide eyes full of curiosity, maybe even a hint of sweet amusement. And that smile of hers, soft and knowing, makes him burn a little on the inside.

“I want to kiss Oscar,” he says before he even thinks about it. The words spill out, heavy with the weight of something he’s been carrying around without even knowing it. The confession hangs between them, unspoken, unasked for. But there it is.

She blinks at him, completely unfazed, and then her hand is on his face, feather-light, fingers brushing over his skin and tracing his moles. The touch is delicate. Her breath, tinged with peppermint, brushes his lips, and he feels like he’s drowning.

Is he even breathing? His chest tightens, and for a second, he swears his heart might stop. Or maybe it’s racing so fast that he’s having a heart attack. Either way, his body feels like it’s no longer his own.

Her eyes meet his, the silence between them is suddenly too loud. And then, with that perfect sweetness in her voice that always makes him feel like he’s being cradled by a cloud, she asks, “Do you want to kiss me too?”

Lando stops breathing. The question hangs there, soft and unexpected, curling around him like smoke. He blinks at her and his mind goes blank for a moment, and his thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

But then, his head nods once. Just once. Small, almost imperceptible.

Elodie doesn’t move away. In fact, she steps closer, so close that he can feel the heat of her body against his. Her long, pretty fingernails linger at his jaw, the unreasonably soft pad of her thumb brushing the curve of his cheek.

Her smile softens.

Everything changes.

—

Glastonbury 2023

The sun had set, and the soft hum of evening wrapped itself around the quiet house. The three of them sat on the outdoor sofa, spread out in a comfortable, easy pile. Oscar’s legs were stretched out, his head resting on Elodie’s lap as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Lando leaned back against the armrest, one leg draped over Oscar’s, his fingers tracing patterns on the back of Oscar’s hand. Elodie glanced up at Lando and blinked, expression open and full of unfiltered adoration, before her fingers shifted to trace the curve of his jaw.

Lando let his eyes flutter close at the touch.

Oscar shifted slightly, pulling his head from Elodie’s lap to tilt his face up toward Lando. Without a word, he leaned in, just a little, and Lando met him halfway. It was slow, soft, a kiss that lingered without pressure. And then, just as easily, Lando pulled back, turning to Elodie. Her smile was bright, her eyes soft, and before she could say anything, he leaned in to kiss her too, a gentle brush of lips that held no rush, no need for anything but the quiet certainty of this.

When he pulled back, Oscar was already watching, his gaze warm, appreciative; so fucking fond. His hand rested on Lando’s knee, fingers lightly tapping in a rhythm that didn’t need to be explained. Lando’s heart gave a little jolt, but it wasn’t the kind of thing he needed to figure out. Not now, not when everything was so perfectly easy.

Elodie leaned over to kiss Oscar on the cheek, then pressed her forehead to his. “It’s good,” she murmured, almost to herself. “This.”

Oscar nodded, lips curling into a soft smile as he kissed her cheek in return. “Perfect, I think.”

Lando sat back, his arm casually wrapping around both of them, pulling them closer.

Because they were both his now—and he could have them as close as he wanted. All the time. Forever.

—

Oscar didn’t hate the number four anymore.

It meant something different now. Something far more tender.

But—he thinks, staring at the photograph he has set as his iPhone wallpaper—maybe he’ll always prefer the number three.

[secretlovezz]

Simon with an s/o who has a cat

Prt.2 here! <-

He hates your cat 😭

Their literally mortal enemies it's ridiculous

The cat glares at Simon 24/7 and he stares right back

You finally make it home after a stressful day at work ready to shower and relax. You open the front door and call out, "I'm home!" You get no response. It makes your brows furrow in confusion, having been used to a little furry friend lying on your unused shoes waiting for you to get home or hearing the heavy steps of your boyfriend making his way toward you. But today there was no welcome wagon for you.

Your heart immediately racks in worry the once steady beat of it moving to an unnaturally quick pace. Your hands move faster to remove your shoes and jacket wanting to look for the person and cat that once populated your apartment.

You call out again, "Simon? My Baby?"

"In here, dove." At the sound of your lover's voice, you're on the move heading to where his voice had been most prominent.

When you get to Simon- in the bathroom -he's clad in only a towel water still dripping from his hair and body and condensation on the mirror signifying he's just gotten out of the shower. Then your gaze goes to his face and his eyes aren't on you they're focused on something on the counter.

Your cat.

They're staring at each other both of them refusing to look away from one another. They were barely blinking. Then you realize why Simon's having a glaring contest with your pet, it's because the cat was on his clothes refusing to move out of pure stubbornness.

Suddenly you're glaring at the both of them too, "Are you guys being serious right now? This is getting ridiculous," you tell them and with Simon's response you roll your eyes and walk away.

"Oh, this is deadly serious, love"

Sometimes when Simon walks by your cat it latches onto Simon's leg kicking and biting the shit out of him (your poor boyfriend is just about ready to chuck the cat into outer space)

Your little fur baby definitely steals or tries to steal food from Simon's plates. Simon swears the cat gets stronger when determined to get into his stuff

Simon's cups have been knocked off of tables more often then not being left to clean up a mess that isn't his

Your looking up from your plate of food as soon as you hear grumbles and silverware clanking roughly against a porcelain plate. You smile a little at the sight in front of you. Simon's pushing your cats head back away from his food, while the cat uses all of his strength. Simon's scowl at the animal only gets deeper when he sees you smile at his unfortunate situation.

"You better not be smilin'," He says annoyance clear in his tone.

Now your laughing, a sound simon usually adores, one that makes his body relax, one that makes him feel safe, but now it has him clenching his jaw and has his eyebrows furrowed.

"Make 'im stop," He growls.

You pretent to think about it for a moment, pointer finger tapping your chin in faux thought, "I don't know si... this is thoroughly entertaining. What's in it for me if I help you?" The vein on his arm looked like it might burst at your question.

"If you don't get this dammed cat away from me it's gonna go missin'," you roll your eyes at his dramatics but called your cat to you regardless.

When you cuddle with one of them the other gets sooooo jealous

Simon will literally toss your little baby off the bed

The cat hits and claws for simon to get away from you

(Your constantly having to scold them its like having two children)

These two will argue with each other Simon's voice is stern its how you imagine he talks to new recruits and your cat is meowing loudly at him clearing cussing him tf out

Groggily peeling open your crused eyes open but quickly closing them as the bright morning sun peeked through your bedroom window you start to awaken. You rubbed into your eyes with the back of your fist before opening them again moving to look at the clock on the bedside table.

11:23

You slept in, or really someone let you sleep in because to your right your boyfriend seemed to have long since left the bed leaving the side he usually accompanied empty and cold.

You stretched and groaned the sheets and blankets moved with you weird groans and grunts leaving your yawning mouth as your joints crackled and popped. You sat up in bed still drowsy with sleep barley aware of your surroundings but still you gripped the enormous blanket and wrapped it around yourself as an act to shield the breezy-ness of the winter weather that leaked into your apartment.

Mreeeooow!

Your head whips to the door at the loud sound. Your cat was talkative but he was never very loud about him. This time the usual cute sound was replaced with an almost screech that made you cringe.

You take a deep breath before standing up and making your way to your room door. Once you open it the sounds of your cat get louder and now you can hear Simon too. His voice is booming but isn't loud it's stern and serious but filled with frustration and anger.

As you walk down the hall to the living area your duvet drag behind you on the floor. The floor creaks and groans under your feet alerting the two others in your home. Both their heads snap towards you. Your little baby's ears are pinned back in airplane mode and his pupils are dilated. Your big baby has his nose scrunched and lips downturned into a frown.

Your voice is laced with tiredness and a little deeper than it normally is, "What are you two arguing about this time?" The back of your hand is rubbing one of your eyes again as you speak.

"The little fucker is bein' disrespectful, he's not listenin' to me."

The cat meows loudly in response to Simon seeming trying to say he was lying.

You sigh and move to pick your cat up, he turns to putty in your arms and nuzzles his head against your chin. You walk towards Simon now. Leaning into him and humming contently when he wrapped his arms around you and the little one in your arms pretending to be annoyed but fully relaxing against your body.

[missviviii]

I saw your post and could I request a Zayne fluff where he comes home from a tiring work day & us making him a coffee + preparing a warm bath

a/n: ooooh!!! sure!! <3

.

ミ★ Love & Deepspace ミ★

pairing: zayne x reader

warning(s): none

summary: zayne has been so busy lately, and you decided to help him relax after a late night at work with a warm bubbly bath and a cup of coffee with a side of him laying in between your legs with his head stuffed into your chest.

“Best Thing to Come Home to.”

It’s no surprise that Zayne often goes home late and always wake up super duper early. Lately, you’ve been staying at his place since your place needed some of its heating and plumbing fixed and other issues. Very much reluctantly so (actually he agreed quite quickly), he let you stay with him until your place was finished.

You worked as a Hunter, yes, and there were days where you had to pull all-nighters or wake up extremely early for missions, but on the whole, you felt like Zayne had very little time to relax properly. So for today, you decided to pamper him a bit, helping your dear Zayne relax.

Tick Tock the sound of his clock in his office ticked. On it, it read 11:20 pm. Just some minutes away from midnight. Zayne sighs, leaning back in his chair as he takes off his glasses and rubs his temples. Just a few more files, and he’ll be able to go home, maybe even sleep in for an extra few minutes since he actually had some leeway in his schedule tomorrow. He put back on his glasses, continuing to work on those patient files before he turned off the lights in his office then left.

You were in the kitchen, brewing some fresh piping hot coffee for Zayne while you were preparing a small dinner for him. You didn’t really cook often, but sometimes you did when you really felt like it. Zayne had texted you he was heading home in about 20 minutes, and you had already prepared a nice warm bath for him. You were reading the news on your phone when you heard the door open, and a tired voice came out. “I’m home,” Zayne said as he hung up his coat on the coat hanger. His house smelled like freshly brewed coffee. Zayne looked towards the kitchen, where you were just leaving after finishing your hands.

“Hey! Thought I’d make a cup of coffee for you. Also, I prepared you a warm bath upstairs.” You smiled while you leaned against the doorway, watching him look at you in a certain way. Well aren’t you nice today? Not that he didn’t like it… In fact, he very much did like it.

Zayne only hummed as he took off his shoes. “Aren’t you being nice today?” He mused, looking at you with a slight tilt to his head. He leaned in close, closely inspecting your face. “What’s the occasion? I don’t usually return from work to find you being so nice. Perhaps you are sick?” He put his hand up to your forehead, to which you swatted away.

“I’m gonna take back the bath and the coffee if you don’t stop messing with me!” You pouted as you turned your back around and stormed off to the kitchen

Zayne let out a sigh, not a disappointment one, but more of an amused one. He took off his glasses before heading to the bathroom, where you had prepared a bath for him already. “Very nice of you, hm?” He muttered to himself as he closed the door and took off his uniform, slowly sliding himself into the warm water. It smelled like lavender and vanilla, mainly because you had used lavender soap for the bubble bath and had vanilla scented candles all around.

You were laying on the couch and on your phone, texting Tara about your plans to hang out whenever you both are off of work. You didn’t notice Zayne coming down, clad in his comfy pajamas and his black hair messy. Suddenly, you felt someone climbing onto the couch and hovering over you. “Zayne?” You called out as you looked away from your phone, only to find him shifting around and laying in between your legs, head on your chest while his arms were wrapped around your waist. “I made coffee, do you want any?”

“Later. Let me have this for now,” he mumbled as he nuzzled his face closer against you, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed your hands running through his hair. You were like a personal heater, your body warmer compared to his. And he lived for the cuddles and hugs you provided. “Just another minute with you, my love.”

[slowee00]

🫧STUMBLE — Prologue

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🫧By ———— SLOoOre/slowee00

🫧 ARC: THE CAT

🐚 Chapter warning(s): backstory, profundity

⛴️ SERIES MASTERLIST

The drive was silent, the vehicle's wheels rolled at high speeds and the rain poured down on the large tour bus.

The radio sounded, a feminine voice singing various notes, her smoothing voice calmed the nerves of many via the heavy rain. Some people were sleeping, some were reading or on their phones.

It was currently around 11:30 pm and your tour bus had taken a detour a couple hours earlier due to a fallen tree on the road because of the incoming storm. Since then, the six-wheeler has been speeding down the empty roads longer than it should've. Of course, many, many people were angry- as they should be, their money and time was wasted instead of viewing the rest of the large mountains before night fall. Instead, it was just a forest and a cliff of water for miles.

A vacation your parents looked forward too. Your parents were athletes. They loved sports and being active. Your father is more of a climber while your mother is more of a runner. Every now and then, she teases and brings up how you’re gonna love running and will regret not exercising your body when running for something like the bus.

But you dismissed it and stuck with what you love; making music and creating art.

"You ok F/n?" Your mom asked, yawning and had woken up from her sleep. She smiled, reaching out to you and rubbed the top of your head.

"I am," you answered, still reading your newly twilight book from your school's library.

Your father snores loudly beside you, clearly tired out from yelling at the driver about getting lost.

"Mom?"

"Yes..?"

"Do you believe in vampires?" You asked randomly, looking up at her before she reached over to take a sip of her now cold coffee. "I wish,” she started, laughing a bit. “When I was your age, then I realized it would be chaos with those things around... when you're older, you'll watch Van Hel-"

The bus suddenly shook, and a few mumbling from shocked passengers immediately erupted. Your mom looked up and around, collecting her surroundings.

"Wake your father up." She commanded you.

"What's going on?"

"It's that fuck'n bus driver I swear."

"Are we in Seoul yet?"

"Mommy my butt hurts."

"I feel like we've been driving for some time now."

"Some time, we're lost again!"

Your mom leaned in to whisper into your ear.

"Cover your ears, too many bad words, I'm gonna go to the bedroom," you looked at her with bore eyes as if you've never heard profanity before. But you rolled your eyes and grabbed your large headphones and place them over your ears. You felt her hand run on your shoulder before she got up from her seat.

You hummed your favourite tune, popping in your favourite candy flavoured lollipop- but the joy was soon cut short as the bus shook again, only this time, it was much worse. Your juice spilled onto the ground and onto your father's lap, waking him up instantaneously. The force almost made you face plant into the seat in front of you.

Your father furrowed his brows, watching his wife walk to the front of bus.

Your mom stumble to the front of the bus, knocking on the wall beside the entrance of the drivers side. A thick curtain separating the two. She didn't want to interrupt anything, but she needed to know how close were they to the city. There was no cellphone service, so they were pretty much stranded, sitting ducks.

"Excuse..." She slowed her words, "...Me?" She pressed her lips together, seeing a odd pool of crimson substance spreading near her black running shoes. She stepped back not wanted to step on the unknown liquid.

But she couldn't help it. The temptation was eating at her. It could've been juice? No- it's too thick-

Ripping open the curtain, her eyes open wider than she's has ever before. The horrific scene in front filled her nose with a disgusting medallic scent. She quickly covered her nose by pinching it hard and took a step back in shock.

The blood dripped down the driver's hand and onto the ground. A long green-rusted spear with a spiral design around it was stabbed straight through the man's chest. The sharp end of the spear penetrated through the seat perfectly the a drill.

The driver’s window was shattered, showing the pitch black night sky. Analyzing the unknown-looking spear, it was as if someone or something shot the weapon with purpose and the driver was long dead with no chance of survival.

She was so stunned with the dead man, still processing that she had talked to this persons only a couple hours ago. Eyeing him even more, she didn't notice that the bus's wheels ran with no control. The dead males foot was still on the gas- she didn't acknowledge how fast the bus was suddenly running till it was too late.

The world stood silently as she watch what could be her last moments.

"Holy Sh-"

The large coach bus slammed the metal ramp with a loud bang, scraping the plastic covering open. As the two metals crashed against each other, sparks igniting, luggages in the bus immediately flung out of its compartment, creating a mess on the wet road. The passengers screamed at the sudden change and aggression.

Your twilight book slip out of your hands and you felt your father put his hand on your chest to push you back up against your seat.

"F/n-"

Your mom reached over to the dead man’s wheel and turned it to the left as much as possible. But the damage was already done.

The once secured metal ramp gave in, tipped the bus on its side in the span of seconds.

The people screamed, feeling themselves lift from the seat. People without seat belts were pull straight out of their seat rolling onto the side of the bus. You screamed, the heavy vehicle drove and broke the ramp, running straight off the cliff with speed, giving no one time for thoughts.

Your world slowed, turning upside down. Personal belongings flew everywhere, people rolling onto the roof of the bus, turning your head to your left, you noticed your father closing his eyes tight, he still had his large hand over your chest. His lips moved like he was giving a prayer and the corners of his eyes began to water.

Your mom, she almost wanted to vomit, the taste nearly in her mouth, her stomach twist and turned as she’s watching herself ascend lower and faster to the pitch black open water.

In a flash, you saw a large wave of water rush into the passenger side. Engulfing you all in an aggressive wave, knocking you out in seconds.

Taglist: ———

🫧

[sheadre]

Crushes Don't Get Easier (James Diamond x Reader) Chapter Three

Summary: BTR is a big hit, everyone loves them, but when they come back to the Palm Woods after their latest tour, they are greeted by a new girl band who actually signed with Gustavo while they were gone. (Name) is their leader who has great style, beautiful and is excellent at singing and dancing. The boys don't get along with them at first but then they realize they can be allies instead of enemies. James gets closer to her slowly even if he is still hung up on Lucy who left him without saying a word. Will there be more to (Name) and James, or is it just a fleeting fantasy and nothing will come of it?

Warnings: fluff, goofiness, angst later on

Days went peacefully in Palm Woods and at Rocque Records ever since James and (Name) concluded a truce. Kendall narrowed his eyes at his friend while they sat at the dining table. James was eager to go to the studio or the pool and it was too obvious why.

“What are you reading?” the blonde asked but he quickly snatched the magazine out of his friend’s hands before the brunette could protest.

“Give it back!”

“Oohoh! It says (Name) is the new shining star in Hollywood. She likes peanut butter sandwiches and hates it when there’s nothing to talk about on a date? Hm, what do we have here? She prefers smart guys?” Kendall read it out loud.

“Then James is no longer an option for her it seems.” Carlos shrugged his shoulders earning a glare from the pretty boy.

“I. AM. SMART! Just not the scientific way!” James jumped up from his seat. “Wait! I’m not even interested in (Name)! I mean she’s great, but I’m not ready for dating.”

“Are you still waiting on Lucy?” Katie walked in with a book in her hand. “I hate her. Even if she comes back I will make sure she leaves as quickly as she did!”

Kendall’s little sister was still angry with the rock musician for leaving James like that. She loved the boys as much as she loved Kendall. When James fell into depression, it touched her as well.

“Katie, I love you, but you are too young to horn in it.” James sighed. “Besides who said anything about Lucy?”

Everyone raised an eyebrow at him which made him shut up.

“James, we love you but you’re too hung up on her. A new love could bring you something you’re missing and think you can fill in the hole with Lucy.” Kendall put a hand on James’ shoulder.

“No, I’m not gonna date anyone for now and that’s my final word on this!” the brunette furrowed his eyebrows and ran away angrily.

James went to the only place he could think. Or not think. He just wanted to be alone. The gym was empty this time of the day but mostly it was abandoned because everyone preferred to chill in the pool. He went over to the yoga mats and started stretching. A half an hour passed when a familiar face entered the gym with two other girls.

Lily and Emma went over to the treadmill while (Name) chose to start with some squats. The girls waved to James but stayed out of his hair which he was grateful for. The brunette’s eyes however kept returning to (Name)’s form. Her messy ponytail, black running pants and sports bra looked right out of a sports clothing commercial. James suddenly felt immense pain in his right foot and he realized that he just dropped 11 lbs of weight. The dumbbell rolled away to the side while he grabbed onto his foot with a pained cry.

Soft, delicate hands grabbed his and pried them away.

“It shouldn’t be too serious but you should get it checked out at the doctor’s.” (Name) said soothingly while she unlaced his shoelace and pulled on his shoe. If James had a smelly foot after the workout (Name) didn’t show her disgust. She instead pulled down his white sock to check out the damage. The skin was red and swollen a bit and when she softly poked it James hissed.

“Okay, you should definitely get it checked out. Do you want me to help you?” she asked as she pulled the sock back up on his ankle then helped his shoe back onto his foot. (Name) carefully laced the shoe back and straightened up stretching her hand out to him.

“I-I can go on my own, but thanks…”

The brunette started standing but as he tried to put weight on his hurt foot it felt like it would fall off.

“Right. I can see that.” she shook her head then grabbed his arm and put it around her shoulders. “Girls, I’m taking James to the doctor, will be back in an hour. Don’t wait for me!”

The pretty boy tried to protest but (Name) was having none of it. Her small frame surprisingly well fit under his arm but he wished that it wouldn’t have to come this way. The reason he dropped the damn dumbbell on his foot was even more embarrassing. What was up with him? Getting all clumsy around a pretty girl?! There was a ton out there besides he was “The Face” of Big Time Rush! He had no reason to be nervous around a girl.

At the lobby of the clinic he tried to make her go home and leave him while they waited for him to be called in but she wasn’t budging.

“James, for some unknown, strange reason I do care about your well being! Hell, what kind of person would I be if I saw another person get hurt and wouldn’t help them out?” she argued.

“I’m just saying that you have your life and you have things to do. You don’t have to stay, I’m all grown up.” James argued back.

“Yeah, a grown up who dropped 11 lbs of weight on his foot and can’t walk.” she huffed. “Just be quiet and accept that I will stay here with you no matter what you do!”

“Roger that, mom.” James rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Don’t. Ever. Say. That. Again.” her tone suddenly became really strange which made James decide that maybe this was the moment he should actually shut up.

Soon James got called in. The doctor checked his injury out and asked the assistant to give James some painkillers before they put his foot in a casing. It wasn’t too serious so they would get it off in a few days but he had to keep from moving it too much. The brunette walked out of the doctor’s office to be greeted by Kelly, Logan, Carlos and Kendall.

He looked around and saw that (Name) was nowhere to be seen. It made him disappointed and guilty. She must’ve left because he kept on insisting on her leaving. The guys helped him back to Palm Woods after a series of scolding from Kelly. This injury made them lose at least 3 days if not 4 because James couldn’t practice dancing.

Those few days were hell. James couldn’t go swimming, couldn’t go to the gym or to the beach. He was lounging in the living room or in his room bored out of his mind because the boys all left to do their own things. Even Katie had to go to school and Mrs. Knight was working at a part-time job as well.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. James sighed dramatically as he got up slowly and limped over to the door to open it. To his confusion and surprise, it was (Name).

“Are you busy?” she asked in a hurry. She kept looking around frantically like she was expecting to be attacked by someone or something.

“Not exactly.” the brunette shrugged and was about to let her in when she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the apartment.

“Listen to me. You’re now my boyfriend who is deeply in love with me and we’re going to be all lovey-dovey!” she whisper-shouted while gesturing around wildly.

“W-w-wait, why? What’s going on?” James asked in confusion.

“I’ll explain it later! Just help me out!” she begged with puppy eyes. James shook his head with a smile and put her arm around her shoulders. “Here they come…”

James furrowed his eyebrows as he heard the thumping of feet coming down the hallway fast and heavy. A really good looking guy turned the corner and stopped in his tracks when he spotted them. Once he shook himself out of his stupor he continued his way toward them. He pointed at (Name).

“I don’t believe you one bit! This is sooooo fake!” he motioned around them.

James suddenly felt anger and indignation flare up inside his chest. He pulled (Name) behind himself protectively.

“Who do you think you are talking to (Name) like that?!”

Even if he was hurt he won’t back down from a fight. The light brown haired guy smirked.

“Dylan Graham in person.” the guy grinned at him as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “(Name)’s future husband.”

James’ eyebrows were about to lift up from his brow and leave outer space at that statement. Then he started laughing and pointed at Dylan.

“Hahaha!” Then he turned scarily serious and stepped closer, staring right into Dylan’s face. “It’s funny you say that cuz I’m the one going out with her.”

“Once she realizes she’s making a mistake, she will choose me!” Dylan went right back up into James’ face. Something in this guy made James want to kick his ass. Back when he was pursuing Lucy relentlessly, he wasn’t chasing her down a hallway shouting ‘You will be my wife!’. Throwing confetti at her, yelling ‘You will be mine!’ at her and dressing up as Mario for her wasn’t the same thing as this.

He felt a soft touch on his chest pushing him back a bit. (Name) stood between them and turned to Dylan as if to shield James from him.

“Dylan, I’m dating James and I really like him. I won’t change my mind about this.” she said seriously. “So please, before the landlord notices your outburst, go home. I don’t want to get into trouble.”

Then she turned to James and pushed him right back into apartment 2J. She closed the door and let out a relieved sigh.

“Okay, so I might have the right to know why we are fake-dating now?” the brunette asked curiously.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drag you into too much trouble. He's been pestering me for a month to go out with him. I told him I had no time, he didn’t accept that so I told him I have a boyfriend, then he wanted to see proof, I tried to dodge him which I managed to until today becausehefollowedmebacktoPalmWoodsandnowwearedating!” (Name) got faster and faster as she explained the situation to him. “I panicked.”

“I can see that.” James chuckled. “You know what? We might prank everyone with this fake dating. The guys are insisting on me going out with someone but I’m not ready for a relationship yet and you are chased after by this Dylan dude. We could get back at them.”

“Deal!” (Name) grinned.

To be continued…

[janetbrown711]

A Better (not) Son or Daughter

MK has been acting like a "goody two shoes" at school and it really starts to get on Mei's nerves until she finally reaches her breaking point

tw for the besties fighting, minor fantasy racism, and anxious mental breakdowns

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 10 Part 10.5 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Ao3 Link

Mei wasn’t liking how MK was acting at school as of late.

There was just something… weird about it– something wrong about it.

Like how during math class, he started not glancing at Mei’s answers, or at lunch he’d keep quiet, or how during PE he just started laughing along to Qiang’s stupid jokes– and on top of all that she could actively see him hiding or stopping his numerous little fidgets he did during the day.

It was weird!

Of course the teachers didn’t seem to notice the negative behavior, even praising him for “being more focused” which was totally weird because if Mei knew one thing it was that her best friend struggled with focusing just as much as she did (if not more). Of course, his grades were still not the greatest, but he was starting to get C+s and B-s, which made Pigsy proud.

MK really liked making Pigsy proud, so at least he was happy, but… but still. It was weird, and Mei didn’t like it.

What probably frustrated her the most was how she couldn’t even talk about it without sounding crazy or jealous. Like– “Wow Mei, way to be happy that your best friend is getting good grades and is getting your guardian’s approval. You’re such a good friend.”

But it was off! It was weird! It was so very not normal. Annoyingly so.

She wondered if perhaps Qiang was blackmailing him or something, or if it had to do with the whole “Career Day” thing since she noticed the behavior had started right after winter break. Maybe it had to do with Pigsy saying he now “trusted them enough to not need him to drop them off”, which was a lie if Mei ever heard one, but even then she couldn't say why that'd make MK change his behavior. Plus, MK was completely unresponsive to her questioning, especially if it was during class, so Mei was left to wonder all on her own.

Yippee.

“If you keep twisting those noodles you’re going to take the whole bowl, kid,” Pigsy commented with a chuckle.

“Oh! Sorry, Piggy,” Mei apologized, immediately releasing the poor sesame noodles back into the bowl.

“You got a test today or something? Your face is as scrunched as my ma’s playing mahjong,” He laughed a little more, but this time more at the memory than her.

“No, I’m just… thinkin’,” She glanced at MK, who was eating peacefully with his legs swinging (unlike how they’d be at school).

MK suddenly stopped though, looking at her and pointing out, “Uh, yeah we do. We have a history test,” with a mouth full of noodles.

“MK, don’t talk with your mouth full, please,” Pigsy massaged his forehead.

MK laughed and nodded before swallowing. “We have a history test today.”

Right. One of the last ones before school ends. A last ditch effort for Mei to get her grades up, but she wasn’t all that hopeful.

Pigsy glanced at Mei. “Did you know that?”

“Kinda,” She admitted, looking down at her bowl and poking it with her chopsticks.

“You study for it at all?” He then asked.

Mei shrugged. Unless the history had dragons actively involved, she wasn’t interested. And the unit right now was just on some dead chairman guy they were all supposed to really care about, but Mei’s dad had never liked him much, so she didn’t either… whatever his name was.

“Gotta study for these things if you want your grades to go up, kiddo,” Pigsy pointed out while washing some of the dishes from breakfast.

“I know, I know,” Mei lowered her head, picking up a single seed and trying to squish it between her chopsticks. “History’s just kinda… boring.”

“Yeesh, don’t let Tang hear that,” Pigsy joked but Mei could only crack a weak smile.

Pigsy sighed, turning off the sinking and looking at her. “Just try your best, kid. That's all you can do.”

Mei wasn’t really sure she could do her best right now… Heck, she hadn’t really been doing her best since before her parents died. After all, if she were doing her best, she'd be perfect and if she’d been perfect, her parents would still be here.

“Okay,” she said instead, since it made Pigsy happier to think she agreed.

He smiled at her softly, ruffling her hair before going off to grab his keys while Mei shoved a few more bites before throwing the rest in the trash and rinsing out the bowl, which MK copied.

“I can let you copy off of my test if you want, Mei,” Her friend suggested, smiling all innocently.

Mei couldn’t help but roll her eyes with an aggressive huff, making MK step back and give her a weird look, but Mei moved on before it could be acknowledged with words.

She went into her room, shoving a few loose papers into her bag without care just as Pigsy called asking if they were ready to go.

Mei zipped up her bag, giving a glance to the shrine to her parents in the corner of her room. “Yeah! Just gimme a sec!”

Her parents were looking at her with a perfectly neutral expression, their stance and position perfectly neutral towards each other. At least, that’s what it looked like at first, but Mei remembered that photo shoot. It was for a big promotion at her Mama’s company and she had spent hours making sure Mei looked absolutely perfect. In fact, if she focused really hard on her Mama’s dark eyes, she could see her not quite looking at the camera, but at Mei with this look of… expectation. And hope, maybe.

Or maybe she was just paranoid from staring at dead people instead of getting ready for school.

Mei sighed, shoving a water bottle and pencil case into the sidepockets of her backpack.

She shouldn’t be feeling this way. It had been seven months. Her parents loved her. Or love her, if there’s some kind of afterlife or if ghosts are real. But either way, there was love. Mei was loved. It was cool.

Mei ran out of the room and joined her guardian and MK by the door.

“You two ready for today?” Pigsy asked, hand on the doorknob.

“Yes sir, Mr. Pigsy,” MK gave a big, bright-eyed grin.

“As I’ll ever be,” Mei bit her cheek, and with that the three of them were off.

.o0o.

Drop-offs were more like a ding-dong-ditch these days, with Pigsy making sure to step off the subway with them and make sure they got to the stairs okay before watching them disappear, and only then would be begin waiting for his next train (which Mei only knew because sometimes they’d go back down and watch him). If anything, it told Mei he was totally lying about trusting them, but she knew not to confront him since adults were usually sensitive about those things.

It didn’t make the walk to school from the station any easier though, and Mei tried kicking a pebble all the way to make up for being kind of annoyed at MK for no real reason.

“I– um… I could also help you study before class starts… if you want,” MK suggested, and Mei kicked the pebble harder.

“I’m fine. I don’t need help,” She focused really hard on a second kick that sent it across the crosswalk right before a car drove by.

“That’s true, you are really smart,” MK smiled at her but she ignored it, looking both ways before crossing the street, which MK quickly followed.

Mei continued kicking the rock.

“The test is also stuff I mostly knew from my old school– which means you must really, really know it if you’ve been here for so long,” MK continued trying to be all light hearted and stuff, but it just made Mei’s skin crawl, and for once in her life, she was relieved when they arrived at the school.

Instead of leaving the rock, she picked it up and put it in her skirt pocket.

Mei then looked around the yard, seeing some kids playing hopscotch, others doing homework, and a few playing a trading card game. However, Mei couldn’t have been less interested in any of that and so just made her way to Miss Yang’s classroom, which MK scurried to follow like a lost little duck.

Mei greeted the teacher with nothing more than a curt bow before going to her desk, immediately taking out a pencil from her bag and drawing on a crack in the wood.

“Mei, you’re going to get in trouble for drawing on the desks again,” MK whispered, glancing at Miss Yang, but she was busy on her computer.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mei huffed her bangs out of her eyes.

“Mei, Pigsy really wouldn’t like it if–”

“Why do you care so much about what he thinks now, hm? You’re like some little goody-two-shoes– makes me feel sick,” Mei rolled her eyes and scribbled harder.

MK didn’t speak for the rest of the morning period.

Math breezed by uneventfully, with MK volunteering and getting answers wrong like he always did, and Mei trying to not let that annoy her. Reading was boring, science was alright, and then it was time for the history test.

Mei groaned as the “pass-er out-er” handed her her paper, and a part of her thought about writing an insult, folding it into a paper airplane and sending it her teacher’s way, but the fact that Pigsy and MK would be disappointed in her? It was a bit much.

Well, MK’s whole thing felt like “a bit much” to be honest. Like– since when did he expect things from her? Why was he always wanting her to be on her “best behavior”? Since when was he the leader here?

She thought again of her parent’s photo and felt her face get hot with shame as she looked down at her paper. She was immediately bombarded with dates and questions she couldn’t remember if she tried, which only made her face get hotter and hotter. She glanced at MK, who seemed laser focused on the top question about Mao Zhedong’s birthday, and she looked away before he could look back.

Well… at least the test was multiple choice, so she had a 25% chance of getting right by guessing, so Mei filled out random answers before flipping her paper over and resting her head, waiting for the “pass-er out-er” to become the “take-er away-er”.

After five or so minutes, MK coughed, and when Mei looked he was sliding his paper towards her. Mei glared at him, which just made him look confused which made her get more annoyed, and so Mei just closed her eyes once more.

It was another five or so minutes before their tests were taken away and they were dismissed for PE, which also went by uneventfully– until it was yard time.

Mei was still angry by the time they were released outside, and MK was still following her around because despite all that, she was all he had and he knew it.

And, well… that kind of went the other way around too.

But Mei wasn't in the mood for MK today, getting in line for tetherball, a game MK hated, and tapping her foot impatiently as she watched.

“Uh– Mei? I-I don't really… like this game, can we do something else?” MK asked, looking at the other students with unease.

“It's not always about you, MK,” Mei said bitterly, making MK frown.

“Well– yeah, I know, it's just– can't we play something else? Like jump rope or wall ball or something?” MK offered.

“Nope. Tetherball. You. Me,” Mei squinted at the red ball as class athlete, Kija, managed to successfully wrap it all the way around the pole, beating his opponent. Another boy rose up to the challenge, making Mei next.

“You and me? That means you'd have to beat Kija,” MK pointed out.

Mei scoffed. “I've beaten him before, I'll be fine.”

“If you say so,” MK eyed her a bit, but she didn't take her eyes off the ball, watching as Kija and the other boy went back and forth, back and forth, before Kija used both hands to shoot the ball at impossible heights for the average student to fight and he won yet again.

Mei smirked as she stepped up to the plate. “You ready to dance, Kija?”

Kija laughed. “You only won because the whistle blew.”

“Keep telling yourself that and maybe you'll finally get an award for being a ball hog,” Mei cracked her knuckles and Kija growled and served.

The two of them went back and forth, with Mei attempting an angle shot, but Kija managed to snag the chain since he was a bit taller than her. Thankfully though the chain was metal and in stopping her move his wrist was weakened, meaning Mei could go in for a fast ball. If he didn't recover in time, victory would be hers.

Kids watched in awe as Mei hit the ball with overwhelming speed and precision, and she laughed as Kija missed again and again until right at the last possible moment he managed to recover and struck back.

Some kids booed as Mei growled in frustration, hitting the ball as quick as she could, determined to teach this punk a lesson and wipe that stupid smug look off his face.

There was a bit of back and forth, with Mei getting dangerously close to losing her lead here and there but she remained vigilant. After five minutes of intense competition, she managed to wind the ball all the way around the pole and all the kids watching cheered in her honor.

“I don't hear any whistles this time, Kija,” Mei smirked and crossed her arms.

Kija growled. “You're gonna regret that, pony girl,” He threatened, shoving her before storming away to play some other game.

Mei rolled her eyes, taking Kija's place and taking the ball as MK hesitated to step to the plate.

“C'mon, MK, we don't have all day,” she rolled her eyes.

“I– do I really have to, Mei? Seeing you win was fun enough, but I don't really–”

“Just shut up and play, MK,” Mei glared, and MK stood upright in alarm.

She didn’t even give him time to relax before she served, hitting the ball with all the rage and aggression in her heart, causing MK duck and cover his head.

“C’mon, MK, stop being such a coward!” Mei glared, hitting the ball again.

“Mei, stop!” MK shouted at her.

Mei knew she should. That she was freaking MK out and it wasn’t nice. That Pigsy might actually get mad at her if he knew. But her anger felt like a flame in her chest, and she hit the ball again.

“Woah, she’s really going for it.”

“Is she glowing?”

“Why doesn’t Xiaotian fight back?”

“She is glowing! Woah!”

“Someone take a picture!”

Kids were gawking all around Mei, but she was still too angry to pay any attention to the green aura surrounding her and making her heart pound. This time when the ball came her way, Mei grabbed it point blank and let it go before grabbing MK’s collar and dragging him across the play yard until she reached the gate and shoved him against it.

“What the heck is wrong with you, MK?! You’re acting like a crazy person!” Mei shouted at him.

“Me?!” MK was completely lost. “You’re the one attacking me a-and acting like I’m an evil clone or something!”

“You’re the one who’s all obsessed with being all goody-two-shoes-y and getting good grades and not fighting back! What happened?!” Mei twisted his collar tighter and her free hand curled into a fist.

“Mei, stop! Please!” MK noticed and started to cry. “I-I just wanna be good f-for Pigsy! Promise!”

“Stop lying! There’s more, there has to be,” Mei shook him and dared to raise her fist, making MK clench his eyes shut.

“I-I-I’m not lying, Mei, I would never lie to you!” MK sobbed, sending waves of guilt crashing through Mei, but she remained in a fighting stance.

“What’s different, MK?! Hm? All studious, all perfect, thinking that’ll make him happy,” She growled and MK opened his eyes to look confused.

“H-huh? I-I’m not– I’m not perfect, I just wanna be good ‘cuz–” MK glanced around at the other students, before looking back at Mei and deciding to whisper. “‘Cuz Pigsy, he– Qiang’s Dad– he threatened we’d be kicked out, a-and he said things, mean things, about his past a-and he cried, a-and I don’ wanna lose him too, Mei, I don’ wanna,” MK couldn’t speak anymore, choking on his sobs, and Mei let go of his collar, allowing him to sink to the ground.

Mei’s anger evaporated in an instant, only leaving her with an empty, panicked feeling as her chest rose and fell at a feverish pace and kids started whispering around her again.

“Aw man, she stopped glowing…”

“What happened? Did she beat him?”

“Gross! She looks like a demon!”

“I wanted them to fight!”

“This was so lame.”

“Their dad is that pig demon? No wonder.”

“Boo! I wanted to see her punch him!”

Mei stumbled back, finally noticing the hot tears streaming down her face. She looked down at her best friend, who brought his knees to his chest and just kept crying and crying and rocking back and forth. “MK– I– we aren’t–”

Just then she remembered Pigsy’s words all those months ago and it echoed in her mind like a broken record.

“If we slip up like this– get into one too many fights, or get the cops called too often– then you’ll probably never, ever see me or MK ever again.”

A soft “no…” escaped her lips and she fell to her knees, getting dirt all over her knee-high socks.

“I-I– I didn’t mean– I-I just– Y-you were– but now– M’so sorry MK, m’so, so sorry,” Mei began to weep and buried her head in her hands. “I-I ruined it– I-I ruin everything– M’so sorry.”

Mei continued to sob, but briefly stopped when she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She startled at first, until she realized it was MK, and hugged him back, crying into his shoulder.

“I-I don’ wanna lose Piggy either, MK– m’so sorry,” She sniffled and tried to explain herself.

“I-it’s okay– I just– w-we can’t be mean, you know? W-we need to be nice and happy for Piggy,” MK hugged her a little tighter, and she could tell he was shaking too.

“I– yeah, we– we can be good for ‘im, right? We can be good kids, I know we can,” Mei tried to smile but her bottom lip wobbled beyond her control so she squeezed MK tighter as he nodded in silent agreement.

She felt like such an idiot. What was she doing getting all mad at MK for? What did she hope to accomplish by threatening to punch him? She was supposed to be smarter than this, Pigsy already told her what would happen if she got too rowdy. She was supposed to have listened, but she never listened. That’s why her house burned down and that’s why her parents were dead, she could never just listen–

They’d probably get called to the office again. And then it’d be over– it’d be one fight too many and Mei would never see MK or Pigsy or Mr. Tang ever again and be dragged to the bottom of the ocean to be with her weird mystical uncle or whatever.

“M’so sorry, MK, I didn’t mean to, m’so sorry,” Mei repeated so quietly she wasn’t sure he could hear over his own crying.

The pair of them stayed huddled by the fence crying until the whistle blew and the two of them wiped their faces and clothes as best they could and headed back to their classroom, praying to every god or star in the heavens that they wouldn’t get called up and everything would be okay.

But, no. As soon as everyone was back in their seats and ready for their science class, there was a phone call and Mei and MK were sent down.

Mei kept her face stoic and unreadable, like she had practiced back with her parents despite wanting to cry. MK wasn’t nearly as lucky though, since he had never practiced so his tears just streamed down in a hot mess and all Mei could do was hold his hand and urge him onward until they were waiting in the familiar chairs that should’ve had a plaque with their names on it by now.

They weren’t called in for a while, so Mei kept her eyes on the old clock as it ticked seconds away at an agonizing pace while holding MK’s hand.

After a while though, she whispered, “M’so sorry, MK… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know, Mei, I know.”

Mei clenched her eyes shut and took a shaky breath. “I’ll miss you.”

MK could only squeeze her hand and cry more.

After seven minutes, MK was called in first, though he almost refused to go in without Mei. They didn’t have a choice though, and the two were separated.

Mei buried her head in her hands and stayed that way until it was her turn, only catching a glimpse of her best friend before heading in.

“Miss Long, I can’t say it’s a pleasure to see you again this time,” Headmaster Jiangxi folded his hands and placed them on the table.

“...Are you gonna call Pigsy?” Mei asked, taking her seat.

“It is school policy, Mei. You of all people should be very aware of th–”

“I didn’t mean to–!” Mei interrupted. “It wasn’t even a fight really, I was just– I was so mad– I’d never really hurt MK, not with what I know now– please don’t tell CPS and have us separated or Piggy arrested or expel us, please, please, please, please,” Mei got on her knees and begged, clearly startling the man.

“Miss Long, there’s no need for kowtowing, please,” He urged and Mei took her seat again, face red and hot.

Headmaster Jiangxi took a long breath. “Miss Long, we were never going to expel you or Mr. Qi over this–”

“R-really? What about Mr. T–” Mei slapped a hand over her mouth.

“‘Mr.’ who?” The man looked at her with a hint of concern.

Mei lowered her eyes. “MK told me about something… Mr. Tao said…”

“Ah…” The headmaster glanced at his computer with unease. “I had a feeling something like that would occur. I meant to send an email to dissuade him from presenting, but…” he shook his head. “No matter now, there’s no need for Mr. Tao to know. You said it yourself, it never turned into a fight, did it?”

Mei shook her head. “I just got really, really mad– some kids even said I was glowing, but I didn’t mean to! I swear, I was never gonna actually hurt MK, I just– I was so mad…”

Headmaster Jiangxi nodded to himself as she spoke, typing a few things into his computer and clicking some others. “Am I correct in assuming you’re very familiar with the school’s policy on bullying and violence?”

“Yeah, I remember breaking Qiang’s nose,” Mei confirmed, trying not to smile at the memory.

“In normal circumstances, the two of you would be given lunch detention for a week, on top of a phone call home, but seeing as there was no actual fighting between the two of you and all has already been resolved I see no need for this to go on any records– so long as you swear to be on your best behavior for the rest of the school year, understood Miss Long?” Headmaster Jiangxi gave her a look and Mei’s jaw dropped.

“I– yes sir! I promise! I’ll be the best darn kid in this whole academy, I won’t let you down, I promise,” Mei couldn’t help but beam.

“Don’t get too excited yet, Miss Long. We still have more to discuss,” He reminded, and Mei forced herself to sit back and tried to take a breath, though couldn’t stop her legs from swinging happily.

She waited as he typed a few more things, clicked a dozen more, typed a bit more, and took another breath.

“Your… ‘glowing’... is that something you can control?” He asked.

“Oh, um… I mean it really only happens when I’m really, really scared or angry. I’m just surprised my ‘inner dragon’ didn’t make an appearance too, haha,” She tried to laugh, but Headmaster Jiangxi clearly didn’t find it funny.

“Right… Well, rumors like that are going to be hard to quell, Miss Long, especially with your guardian situation,” He explained.

“But it’s because I’m a dragon, not because I’m a demon. I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Mei frowned.

“I know, Miss Long, but– well– you have brought harm to students in the past–”

“Qiang deserved it,” She muttered.

Her principal gave her a look. “I’m not saying he didn’t, but what I am saying is that I recommend you get this anger of yours under control before it grows beyond my control, understood?”

Mei slowly nodded. “Yeah, I think I get it.”

“You’re a smart girl, Miss Long. You can go on to do many great and important things like your parents always dreamed; you just have to make the right choices,” The man smiled at her softly, and Mei felt her stomach drop.

“R-right, yes. I can– I will. I promise,” Mei stood and bowed.

“I’m glad we could come to an understanding, Miss Long. Your family has always been good to this academy and it would be a shame for us to part,” He nodded at her.

“Yes sir, I understand,” Mei nodded back, fiddling with her skirt. “Am I free to go, sir?”

The headmaster nodded once again. “Have a good day, Miss Long.”

“You too, Headmaster Jiangxi,” Mei meant it as she bowed yet again and stepped back into the outside world.

Well that was strange. But hey, Mei would take what she could get, especially if it meant they weren’t going to be separated after all.

Mei said a quick prayer to her ancestors as a “thank you”, and hurried back to class.

.o0o.

The rest of the day was as Headmaster Jiangxi had warned. Students whispered and kept looking back at MK and Mei– especially stupid Qiang– but Mei was okay because she and MK weren’t going anywhere and that meant there was nothing they could do to hurt her.

During the cleaning period, MK and Mei stayed by each other's sides and swept the classroom in complete silence, which got them a compliment from Miss Yang. It was equally strange for the both of them, but it was a strange day.

Both of them were flooded with relief when the bell finally rang and they were free to board the city bus and ride to Pigsy’s Noodles.

“So… what did Headmaster Jiangxi say to you?” Mei asked, adjusting her backpack as she looked out the window.

“He had a lot of questions I couldn’t answer for a while because I… just kinda kept crying and begging not to be taken away, haha,” MK admitted, messing with the carpeted seating. “He said he wouldn’t call Piggy though, and after that I was able to explain how you were just having a bad day and you didn’t even hurt me and we’re okay now, you know?”

“Ahhh, yeah that explains it,” Mei pieced together. “I was wondering why he was so mellow about the whole thing. I guess I owe you one.”

MK laughed a little. “Maybe… but I’m just glad we’re okay and Pigsy’s okay too.”

“Yeah, me too…” Mei looked down. “I… I really messed up. I don’t know why I got so angry, I just– I don’t know… I guess some part of me thinks Pigsy likes you more than me and you switching to act all good and quiet kinda threw me, m’sorry,” she confessed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” MK smiled and held her hand. “I’m not mad at you or anything, I really should’ve said something sooner about Mr. Tao, but… yeah,” he laughed a little, which Mei copied.

“Still friends?” Mei asked, offering her hand to shake.

“The bestest,” MK shook it and the two of them smiled and laughed the rest of the bus ride before arriving at the familiar noodle shop.

“Hey, you two,” Pigsy smiled as they walked in, drying off a glass with a rag like everything was perfectly fine. “How’d the test go?”

“Oh, right– that did happen today,” Mei completely forgot about everything before recess.

Pigsy raised an eyebrow. “Busy day?”

MK and Mei exchanged a look. “You… could say that.”

This, of course, just made Pigsy even more confused.

“Why? What happened? Some kids get into a fight or something?” Pigsy guessed, moving on to drying off a bowl.

Mei shook her head. “Not really, but it did get kinda close.”

“Yeah, but everything’s okay now and no one really got hurt,” MK smiled at her.

“Ah, I see,” Pigsy nodded to himself. “I gotta say, it is kind of refreshing to hear about kids getting into fights that aren’t you two,” He laughed a little.

“I beat Kija in tetherball–!” Mei blurted out, immediately diverting the conversation.

“Really? That’s impressive, kiddo. Congrats,” Pigsy gave her a smile before going to put the bowl and cup away.

“Smooth,” MK whispered and Mei rolled her eyes, pushing him a little.

It wasn’t long after that that Mr. Tang came back from a long day of studying, and soon the conversation became all about him and the Monkey King– not that Mei minded by any means.

Because this was normal for them. This was right for them.

Things were so right and normal right now and Mei wouldn’t give that up for the world.

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera - Ch 15 - Wait

More blue and purple text for you as that seemed to work last time :) A dash of The Commander & The Murderbot and a sprinkle of Earth&Sky.

And yes, I laughed longer at that line than I should have.

(Previous… Prologue - Stars are Only Visible in Darkness, Estera - 1 - Colour, 2 - Dinosaur, 3 - Shoes, 4 - Thunderbird, 5 - Lesson, 6 - Safe, 7 - Gull, 8 - Deliver, 9 - Coffee, 10 - Flight, 11 - Run, 12 - Fall, 13 - Trying, 14 - Hide)

(Sofasurf’s Recrudescence which is the foundation for all of this)

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Hey, I’m up your way for a meeting next week. Maybe we could catch up? S

Oh I’m sorry, I’m taking the sleeper train to see my sister and her family.

Treviso, right? Hope you have a wonderful time!

Well remembered! I’m sorry to miss you, really bad timing.

I’m sorry!

Stop apologising! Have a Tiramisu for me 😋

Will do!

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Scott double-checked the date then closed the app and leaned on the balcony, watching the gulls land on Mateo to roost. His forehead creased with worry.

“EOS, could you look up the term dates for Estera’s school for me?”

“The current term ends in 4 weeks. Would you like the dates of the holidays and teacher training days for the next 6 years?”

“No, that’ll do. Thanks EOS.”

“I have also established that Estera Hermaszewska is marked as on sick leave and a substitute teacher has been engaged for 3 weeks starting two days ago.”

“EOS! No! You can’t just… I shouldn’t know that!”

“I thought you would want to know because you are displaying concern for her well-being. The school does not have particularly robust security on its staff records. There is a wealth of information here.”

“Stop. EOS. Please stop looking.”

“I have closed the connection. I am sorry, Scott Tracy, I did not intend to cause you distress. John will be displeased.”

Scott paused. There was a lot to unpack there, but he’d return to it later.

“I should have been more clear, it’s my fault. In future, when I ask you to find something out please would you limit your search to publicly available information unless I specifically ask otherwise?”

“Certainly. May I ask why you wish to restrict your knowledge about your friend’s welfare?”

Scott twitched slightly. “I don’t want to, exactly, but… has John discussed the concept of privacy with you?”

“He has explained we need to protect certain types of data. But I was only telling you and you are her friend.”

“Not really EOS, we barely know each other.” Another pause as he pondered how to explain. “But even if we were very good friends… part of human relationships is finding out about each other FROM each other. I should only know what she wants to tell me. To do otherwise is an invasion of privacy and would just make things… strange.”

“John knows a great deal of information about Estera Hermaszewska and they are not friends.”

Scott sighed. “John is a special case.”

“He has also informed Virgil Tracy, Tanusha Kyrano and Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.”

“He has, has he?”

“Yes. Perhaps this is a fact he did not intend me to share with you at this time.”

“I suspect so EOS. But thank you for telling me.”

Scott headed indoors, suddenly deeply weary. Sleep was unlikely until he’d figured this one out though, so he turned his back on his own bedroom and made his way to his brother’s studio.

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His big brother had several distinct ways of knocking on his door. All were the same rhythm - Tap-te-TAP-tap - but the volume and speed would give Virgil advanced notice of what kind of mood he was in and a split second to prepare. Right now Scott was… unsure, worried about something. He made sure to add as much warmth and encouragement to his “come in Scotty” as he could.

“You always know it’s me.”

“Yep, it’s all the spy cameras I have set up… I’m kidding, Scott.” The brotherly eyebrows relaxed back into merely confused mode. “What’s up?”

“Can’t I just want to hang out?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow. Scott sighed.

“I have a bit of a…. Quandary.”

He watched his brother’s face as he explained. When he wasn’t deliberately shutting himself down, or focusing on his board meeting poker face, Scott was an open book. To Virgil at least. His expression and the intonation of his voice could provide more detail than the words did.

“It sounds like you made it clear to EOS, it shouldn’t happen again?”

“But that’s not the point. I know now. She’s sick, Virg, and I’m sure it’s something to do with… well… the same as I was. Because of meeting me. What if I made her dig all that stuff up but she doesn’t have a… a you to keep her sane while she figures it out?”

Scott paced, gesticulating wildly, and Virgil caught his arm as he passed, pulling him in for a hug. His brother was trembling with pent up energy.

“Well first off, well done for not leaping in a plane and rushing to try to fix her.”

His brother let out an explosive laugh. “You know me so well.” A pause, then more quietly “I really want to. But I know that would be weird and counter-productive. I just feel so…” he sagged “Responsible. I can’t just ignore this. I can’t just abandon her!”

“I don’t think you have to.” He pulled back a little to look up into his brother’s face. “Scott, when you were struggling but not ready to talk to us, what helped?”

“Hugs.”

Virgil squeezed him a little tighter. “What else?”

Scott broke away to recommence the pacing, palming the miniature rubix cube Virgil kept handy for him on a shelf and rattling through the algorithm to solve it. Reaching the far end of the room he spun on his heel and met Virgil’s eye.

“Two things I think. Distraction. Things to help me stay grounded. And then… knowing you were there if and when I did want to talk… but you weren’t going to force me.”

Virgil nodded.

“Can you do the same for her?”

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Why are elevator jokes so good?

Hi! Err, are they?

Because they work on so many levels!

…

That was awful.

Seriously, I hear better from the 6 year olds.

Aww, that was one of my best.

That does not bode well.

I am deeply wounded. 😭

Oops 🤣

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Scott shed his overcoat and face planted on to the hotel bed, well aware of the expression the overwrought Italian designer of his suit would sport if he could see such abuse. Wrinkles be damned. The way that board meeting had gone it was a miracle he’d not wrecked this latest one with blood stains. Again.

His comm pinged with a picture message. Unusual… he swiped it open.

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Here is your Tiramisu. I’m afraid I ate it. I would apologise but you told me to stop doing that. Bad luck! Estera

Excellent work! 😋

Ah, now I’m hungry and have no dessert 😭

Oops 😂

You’re on the espressos?

You can’t drink cappuccino after 11am here. They’ll arrest you.

Good intel, I’ll bear that in mind next time I visit.

Have you been to Italy a lot?

Outside of rescues? No, actually! There’s no TI branch there and I guess we don’t get a lot of time to travel for pleasure.

Oh you should, it’s an incredible country.

Where would you recommend I start?

I’ll make you a list.

I look forward to it.

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Scott smiled to himself. Then changed into his civvies, adding a baseball cap and his signature aviators and ventured outside.

Surely somewhere in London sold tiramisu…

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On the train back. Finished my book already but still 9 hours to go!

Thunderbird One would do it in 3 minutes…

You just did the maths didn’t you?

Yep.

I’m guessing no restaurant carriage though? Whereas I am now going to go sit and enjoy the view with a coffee and some kind of delicious pastry.

… TB One does lack pastries.

I bet your brother has plenty of room for pastries in Two… 😈

Be right back.

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Scott, did Thunderbird One just fly over my train?

… maybe 😁

?????

Alan needed to get some more flight hours…

And I wanted pastries.

So we are in Paris getting takeaway.

The fuel for those things is cheap right?

Sure.

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Back at school today - the kids say hi :) I don’t know why they think I have some kind of hotline to the head of International Rescue but they won’t be dissuaded.

Hi right back atcha kids 👋

Atcha? What kind of a word is that?

An… American… one?

I don’t think it’s valid here.

Let me try again.

Good afternoon, esteemed juvenile citizens. I extend my compliments for your respective health and happiness.

You are no longer allowed to talk to the children 😏

Aw shucks 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

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Chapter 16…

[myrammmortal]

Chapter 41, porn = love

AN: 2 every1 hu kepz flaming diz GIT S LIF!!!!! I bet u proly odnt no hu gerod way is ur proly al prepz and pozers!!!!!!!!11111 neway sum1 hakked in2 mi akkount in November and dey put up my last chaptah but now der is a new 1. im surry 4 nut updating g 4 a while but ive been rilly bizzy. im trying 2 finish da story b4 da new movie kumz out. Im gong on vacation 4 a mons I wont be bak until abott 2 weeks. OMFG drako iz so hot in all da pix 4 da new movie!!!111 I wunted dem 2 put a kameo by geord way lol he hsud play drako. if u flame ill slit muh risztz!!!!!!!!11 raven u rok gurl hav fun in ingland.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX666XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When I wook up I wuz in a strange room. I loked around I wuz wearing da same outfit I had when is performed wif XBlakXTearX!!!!!11 I looked arund confusedly. It wuz da Norse’s office but it looked difrent!! On da wall wuz a pik of Marlyin Munzon!!!1111 (just imagin dat he is an 80s goffik band 2 ok koz he is more old den panic?! at da dizcko or mcr) der wuz also a goffik blak Beatles calander with a picture of the beetlez werring iyeliner and blak cloves. On it said ‘1980.’

“OMFG!!! Im back in Tim again!!!!111” I screamed loudly. Suddenly Satan(dis is actually voldimort 4 photo refrenss!). Voldimort wuz wearing a blak leather Jackson, blak tight jeans and fishnet pantz. He looked so sexah I almost had an orgy!!!!11

“OMFG Paul Shadow Omnipotentia Raven Face Landers r u ok.” He asked gothikally.

“Yah Im okay 4 ur in4mation.” I snapped sexily. “OMG am I dedd???” koz I remembered I had jumped in front off da bullet from Jame’s gun. I also rememberd cing Richard doing it wif Snap!!!!111

I guessed dat when I had slit mi wrists I had went bak in tim instead of dieing. I knoew I could go forward in time if I found a time-toner or da tim machine.

“No ur not dead.” Satan reassured suicidally as he smokd a cigarette sexily and smoke came all over his face. “Ur a vampire so u kant die frum a bullet. You should know that you can only die from slicing your wrists with a steak. Cum on now lets go c how Hairy’s dad is doing.”

I noo dat da real reason I didn’t die from da ballet was koz I was from da future. “WTF!!!! James almust shot Luciious!!!” I said indigoally. I knew that James had really ben possezzed, but I didn’t want him2 know I knew.

“Yah I know but he had a headache he wz under a lot of stress.” Satan reasoned evilly.

“I guess that’s ok.” I said because James hadn’t really shot Lucian. Also I noo that Lucian wood now have 2 arms instead of 1. I walked seduktivly outside with Satan. Suddeni I saw a totally sexi goffik bi guy!!!!!11 He had bleched blond hair wiv blak streaks up 2 his ears and he wuz wearing goffik blak iliner, a blak Green Day shirt (it showed billy joel wiv bolnd hair since it was da eighties), blak congress shoes and black baggy pants. He walked in all sexly like Gerrd way in the vido for I Don’t 3 u lyk I did yesterday and you cud see a blak tear on his face lyk da wmn in dat video. “Hey.” He sed all qwietly and goffically.

“Who da fuck is that?” I asked angrly cos I did nut kno him.

“Dis is…Hedwig!!!!!!!!!11” Sed Volximort. “He used to be in XBlackXTearX 2 but he had 2 dropp out koz he broke his arm. Or his wing I guess. He is an owl after all. And a girl. So I guess she broke her wing because she is an owl.

“Hey Hedwig.” I said seductively evn tho I wuz nut tring to b.

“Lol hi stranger I have never met before but I guess because of your immense beauty I shall call Paul Darkness Great Mal Omnipotentia Raven Face Landers.” He answered but then he ran away bcos he had hair of magical creature. Some would call them feathers. He was humming Welcum 2 da Blak Prade under his breth( I no dat is not 80s but pretend it is ok!!)

“Bye.” I sed all sexily.

“Dat was Hedwig. He used 2 b my boifreind but we broke up.” Satan said sadly, luking at his blak nails.

“OMFG I can get u bak 2gether!” I said fingering something I didn’t know wuz in my pocket- a blak Kute is What we Aim 4 cideo ipod that I could take videos wif (duz ne1 elze no about dem??? dey kik azz!!!!).

“Ok u can 4get about ur class for now, Hedwig. Im going 2 show u something grate!!!!1” I led them to da Great Hall. “Cum on u guys.”

Lucian, James, Serious and Snake were all in da Grate Hall. Lucian woudnt talk wiv James because he had tried 2 shoot him.

“Go fuk urself you fukking douche!” he shouted at him. “Richard is never gong 2 b frends with vampire now!!1 Though I have no idea who these two people are anyway because I'm 16 and from a different time!"

“Yah go fuck urself Samaro!” Snape agreed but I noo he wuz lying koz it had been his folt James had almost shot Lucian.

“B quiet u guys.” I said sexily. Mi plan waz working oot great. Now I kood make Voldement good wivout doing it with him! Now Vampire’s dad wood never die and “OK Satan and Hedwig, u guys can start making out.” I said and I started 2 film dem wiv da ipod. Because making a gay porn is totally the way to true love! And if you disagree with this I will bring out the homophone again!

“Kool.” said Serious as Voldemort and Hedwig started 2 make out sexily. We watched as tdey started 2 take each odderz cloves off sexily. Samaro, Serious, Snake and Lucian all watched koz dey wer prolly bi. I noo Snape was bi.

“Oh my fukking god!!!! Voldimort! Voldimort!” screamed Hedwig as his glock touched Voldemort’s.

But suddenly everything stopped as da door opend and in kame………………Daddy Till and Mr. Norris!!!!111111111111  

Daddy Till was carrying Mr. Norris in his arms and stroking him like an evil villain. "What are you doing here?!" I screamed all sexily and suicidally. "Do you think you can just walk in here and expect to be part of this very hot, spontaneous, true love, steaming gay porn scene?" "No Paul Darkness Elementia Raven Face Landers," he said while he was still stroking Mr Norris the cat, "I expect you to die!".

"NOOOooooOOOOooooo!!!!" I screamed, and everything went black again.

[genshinlover101]

A male reader that’s shorter than their S/O (Eula,Lisa and Ei)?

Her With a Shorter (Male) S/O

Characters: Eula, Lisa, Raiden Shogun

Warnings: mentions of Lisa’s boobs 😌

A/n: I was googling their heights and on god I thought they were all 5’8”+ because they all use the same character model

I was bamboozled cause I found out Ei is 5’5”? It blew my mind. Like I’m pretty short irl (5’3”) but I thought miss girl was like 5’9”

Link to prt. 2 (Not connected only if u want more)

• Eula is 5′8″ (172 cm), She’s tall for a girl and is used to being taller than most of her girl friends, for men she’s used to them being maybe one or two inches taller than her. 

• Eula cares about her reputation, but on the same page she’s also a descendant of the infamously tyrannical Lawrence clan. This woman already has a bad reputation via her last name, what more could the rumor, “that girl has a short boyfriend, they look so ugly together,” do to her.

• She would harass you, for it. Probably has an ongoing joke about your height. In reality, she was proud of your confidence and found it admirable how comfortable you were with your height. 

• If anyone made fun of you, especially her attempted suitors, she would make them feel insecure and bully them away. Physical force was only used when they wouldn’t get the hint.

Eula invited you to dance with her, and although you were the guy she assumed the male position of the dance, you were going to rest your hands on her hips but she beat you to the chase. You just put your hands on her shoulders to fill up the space, “Shouldn’t this be reversed?” You asked. 

“Not when you can’t properly twirl me with your short stature.“ You groaned a little knowing she was going to have a little too much fun demasculinizing you. She had a little inside joke that you were her little eunch. 

She began twirling  with you to the sound of the wind, her steps perfectly synchronized with yours as she made an effort to teach you how to dance and follow her lead beforehand. She used the hand that was attached to yours to twist you outwards and twirl you back into her. 

She was clutching onto you like a little purse as you were no longer dancing face-to-face. You could tell she was holding back laughter, “Okay that’s enough.” You sighed quickly before scooted away from her hold.

• This woman was 5′11″ (180cm), so this mama was tall. She was quite used to people being shorter than her, which included men as well. 

• Most women would feel insecure, but Lisa saw it as superiority and power. If you date her you’d have to be confident and secure in your own shoes. She would take much offense and ick if you had any sort of toxic masculinity about women being traditionally shorter.

• Lisa’s teasing was relentless. She would constantly press herself up against you knowing her body would just be sucked up into her different individual curves. Of course, it was all to get you unnecessarily flustered.

• Lisa was very popular with the men, especially because she was one of the most desirable women ready to marry in Mondstadt. You noticed only men taller than her would hit on her. When she said she had a darling, they would diminish you for your short stature. She would probably just wrap herself around you and extenuate the PDA between you two, probably making eye contact with them as if she was saying to them: you wish this was you. 

You were reaching up to get a specific book at the top shelf, you made a little oomph sound with each stretch on your tippy-toes. You were just a centimeter off from grabbing it, oh lord you cursed your height at these times. 

Suddenly you felt a soft tissue on your back and saw a gloved hand reach for the book in return, “looking for this?” Lisa cooed in your ear, you only had space to turn your head between her and the shelf. A burning heat rushes through your body. you were now sandwiched in between the bookshelves and Lisa herself, you knew the soft feeling behind you was her breasts.

Lisa took a step back and wrapped her arms around your neck, you cringed at the cold spine of the book touching you ever so slightly on your nape. “Ara~ aren’t you just the cutest,” Lisa giggled. “You get so shy with just a small touch.” Lisa’s body towered over yours with nothing but evil intent.

“Just gimme my book please,” you mumbled shyly within her clutches. 

“Ah- I almost forgot.” She released you and gave you a quick ruffle of your hair before you sped off to read your book.

• Ei is 5′5″ (166cm), she’s the epitome of average height for a woman. Everyone around her varied in height and she didn’t really think twice about it, tall, short, man, woman.

• Ei really didn’t care about your height, she literally didn’t even think twice about it. Spending all those centuries within her Plane of Euthymia, she missed out on a bunch of generational cultural changes. That included the beauty standard that men were taller than their partners.

• She didn’t see a big deal with the height difference, she really was socially incompetent so it never crossed her mind twice about the height difference. Even if she got a slight glimpse into the new world she still wouldn’t care.

• Specifically the Tenryou would harass you for it. They were sticklers for tradition so they thought men should be tall and beefy. Men who couldn’t stand against a woman of average height were no good for them. They wouldn’t dare say in front of Ei though, last time they publicly ridiculed you they received physical punishments. 

Ei forced you to take her out for the stupidest of things, namely Dango milk. She grabbed your hand tightly as she hastily went to her favorite sweets store, you were trailing behind. Your short legs made it even harder for you to catch up to her long strides. “Ei please slow down,” you panted.

You passed by two soldiers who happened to be associated with the Tenryou commission whispering at such a pitiful sight. “Awh is that your little puppy.” One of the men said, “Yeah can you bark for us.” The other chimed in as they both laughed while making arf arf sounds.

Your girlfriend stopped in her tracks, nothing usually stood in her way of Dango milk but this was a special occasion. “Don’t think I can’t punish you two right now as we speak. Don’t forget your generals answer to me, I shall never hear another word out of such topic from you two again.” She scolded them for what seemed like hours.

In the middle of her lecture, she embraced you protectively. Surrounding your entire body with hers as she pets your head maternally while her attention was steered towards the rude men before her. You blushed a little at the situation that you had to be protected by Ei.

[endeaavorr]

[18.23]

the third vibrate from your phone successfully prodded your eyes to wake. your left arm numb from the way you accidentally slept on it hurriedly reaches out to put your phone on silent, not wanting to wake him up. ah yes, him. you look at the dimmed screen of your phone, 5.00 am 8th of August.

your heart warms at the sight. you lean back to the mattress facing up, trying to stretch your body properly before starting up the day. you turn your head to the left and see his sleeping figure. the slow rise of his chest, the slight part of his lips, and the nasty scar, as shoto calls it, settling happily across the side of his face.

you don’t usually get to see this side of him, either because he doesn’t come home that night from work, or you’re too tired to pay attention, or the two of you passed out right after doing it. so you hit the snooze button once more and studies his face, your right hand now softly leaning on his broad chest, neat fingers tracing the outlines of his never aging face.

but the morning haze soon is replaced by your default mode. pulling enji’s cover to his chin to keep him warm, you get up to start preparing breakfast, you wanted to make it extra special for today.

for the last month the two of you has been, how do you say it, distant. you were taking extra shifts at your agency to afford this watch you wanted to give him on his birthday. even so, since you can’t tell him why he’s starting to come home to a cold empty house, it’s been quiet and rather uncomfortably awkward. you kinda feel bad in a way, so you’re determined to make today work.

you were so drowned in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize enji already woke up and finished his morning run.

“good morning, papa.” you greet him with your usual kind eyes.

“morning,”

he’s fresh out of the shower, wearing a sleeveless shirt and a lounge short, a small towel sitting on his damp hair. he sits on the tatami while you plate breakfast for the two of you. the air is dry and suddenly even the tatami is not that comfortable.

breakfast was quiet, it has always been quiet. but not like this, it’s normally filled with you clinging to his arm and playfully sneak your head under his arms right above his folded feet, facing him with a half closed sleepy smile.

you steal glances at him but he’s always looking down. just when you have the courage to break the silence, he says i enjoyed the food, and puts his dish in the sink.

“i’m staying out tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

you were only able to muster a ‘good luck at work, papa!’ before he’s gone again.

it’s 5pm. you just got home from enji’s agency, dropping of a set of suit you picked up from the launderer. reservation is at 8pm, you have three hours to call him about it and get ready yourself.

“hello,”

“ah papa ! are you busy now ?”

“yeah, i thought i told you this morning.”

it’s a lie, you asked his assistant and his schedule is empty from 5pm above.

“well, not according to your assistant apparently.”

it’s silent.

“well, i just dropped off something for you at the receptionist ! make sure to wear them, dinner’s at ___ at 8pm under my name, i’ll see you there papa ! i love you!”

“wait—“

you leaned to the wall behind you and press your phone to your chest in a relieved sigh. really, you’ve been living together literally your whole life, how are you still nervous like a preteen talking to their first crush ?

you shake your head mentally and start to get ready. in the mean time.. enji is dumbfounded. he’s just confused and the receptionists are grinning knowingly, which makes him even more, confused. good thing his office has a shower and a spare room though.

it’s 7pm. you apply some final touches of light make up. the two light honks from outside signals that your driver is here, ready to take you. the restaurant is pretty close from enji’s office, but it takes a good 25 min walk from the todoroki residence and you don’t wanna ruin your hair.

you get up and look at yourself in the mirror, you’re wearing a black designer dress that exposes your shoulders with a small purse on the right of your hand. you’re ready to go.

8 pm.

“ah, endeavor-san, how can i help you tonight ?”

the hostess welcomes enji with a polite smile.

“i have a reservation under my daughter’s name, todoroki y/n.”

“right this way, sir.”

enji follows the hostess to a more secluded table from the others, he notices it’s way quieter than the main dining hall, the view next to both of the seats are the wide view of city lights. the waiter serving them tonight introduces himself and hands him the menu, while pouring water from a sealed glass bottle to enji’s glass. he looks through some pages but then decided to just wait for you to order.

you arrive no later than five minutes after he did, welcomed by the same hostess, and immediately taken to your table.

“you look good, papa.”

“you too,”

he takes his time to scan over you, your neatly styled hair, your set of greenish ocean eyes that matches his, the scar on your left cheek that you wear proudly, and lastly the way he realizes again just how breathtaking you are.

on the other side, you feel your heart flutter. he looks really good. the slightly opened white shirt, the perfectly tailored navy suit, emphasizing his strong arms that has saved way too many lives, too many times.

enji was too busy staring at you he didn’t even bother taking a look at his menu. and by the time the waiter was ready to take his order, he just went with the classic i’ll have one of what she’s having.

“how’s your day, papa?” you started the conversation.

“it’s normal, busy.”

you place your right hand on top of his, thumb gently rubbing comforting strokes on his palm.

“i missed you, you know.”

“well, you’re the one who’s been away so much.”

you’re honestly a bit startled at his bluntness, he usually won’t do things like this. you get a bit shy and shifts your gaze from his to where your palms are lightly entangled.

“i’m sorry papa, i can’t help it, i needed extra shifts.”

“for what ? is it about money ? you know you can always ask me, right ? i don’t mind providing for you for the rest of my life as long as i get to come home to you, and not just a cold dead hall.”

you’re out of words, his brows is contorted, and the glint in his eyes shows something you guessed to be dissapointment ? guilt ?

“i’m sorry,” you say again, hands shyly squeezing his and the other toying with the ends of your skirt. your heart still goes on a marathon when it comes to him.

the dinner was nice, it’s slow paced and calm, just like how he likes it. the little tense you two had is now slowly melting away. opting to take a walk home instead, you walk hand in hand under the generous light of the moon.

enji took off his suit halfway and put it around you, keeping his right hand in his pocket while his other is entangled with your much smaller one. his shirt has now one more button open, sleeves rolled neatly three times as they rest proper on half of his arm.

you can’t stop smiling, butterflies going crazy in your stomach like a lovesick fool, that you maybe are. you don’t know if it’s from the wine, but he’s way more talkative right now, you’re making jokes here and there, laughing to yourself while gripping his hand tighter and hugging his arms with your other hand. he’s laughing a little too, not that he doesn’t appreciate it, that’s just how he is.

you’re waiting to cross the road at the last junction before you reach your home, the road is clean empty but the light is still red. the both of you don’t mind, he takes this chance to pull you tighter against him and breathe the always comforting natural scent of your hair.

your solace is interrupted by the ding of the crossing light turning green, but enji doesn’t let go, so you start walking slowly like that, pressed against each other, steps getting tangled making it hard to walk. the things you do for love.

it’s 11 pm.

he goes in first while you lock the front door and make sure all the lamps in the yard are on. he sits down and starts to take off his shoe, you quickly slipped of your heels and crouched between his legs to do it for him instead. your short dress riding up, displaying your already exposed milky thighs in its glory.

you can tell where he’s looking and feel the twitch of your insides from the yearning you’ve been holding back. he reaches out his right hand to caress your cheek. you lean to his rough hands and give him a faint smile before you push your body towards his in attempt of pinning him down, disguised by an innocent hug. your head resting on his chest while he supports himself with one arm and holds you back with the other. he face touches the bare skin of your neck and finds comfort there. pressing kisses that quickly turned wet.

you lift up your head and pulled his supporting hand towards you, making sure he’s fully laid on the wooden floor, arms caging his head, hazy eyes looking down on his meaningful orbs. it’s not long before you crash your lips together in a desperate kiss, your spit drooling down his chin, his stubble grazing the smooth well cared surface of your face.

you sit down on his crotch and he abruptly breaks the kiss with a groan, but you’re quick to grab his face and pull him in an even more passionate open mouthed kiss, his hands find the swell of your ass and guide them so you’re now grinding on his growing bulge too.

the mutual need to breathe forces both of you to break the kiss. foreheads now touching together, heavy ragged breath mixing, the intimacy making you dizzy. but the high wears off sooner than you thought and you can’t help but hide your reddened face to his neck, not wanting him to see you blush, hands clutching him tight as he sits back up holding you properly.

“let’s go take a bath, i’m sweaty.”

you can only offer a weak nod, still too embarrassed of what you just did. he hoists you up to his shoulder and carries you to the bathroom.

it’s so warm. you’re sitting between his legs leaning to him, his strong arms on your stomach protectively, body radiating comforting warmth to yours, making the both of you completely relaxed.

you almost let yourself fall asleep if not that you remember about his gift. so you get up first, telling him to enjoy the bath a little longer and go sprint to your room.

you quickly dried your hair and put on a set of babydoll you’ve been keeping for this day. it’s a simple white see through babydoll with soft lace that hangs prettily on your supple thighs. you put on your sleep robe and go to his room with a deep green paperbag on your right hand.

it’s 11.30 pm.

the futon is laid and you’re sitting above it on your knees, your gift hidden behind your figure.

enji comes out of the bathroom already in his sleepwear, a black set of loose shirt and a matching pants. his hands are still busy trying to dry his own hair until he looks up at the sight of you and pauses.

you pat the spot next to you, signaling him to sit there. he walks up to you and sit crossed legged in front of you. he can see the rather big paperbag behind you but decided not to say anything.

“what is it ?”

you opened your mouth in attempt to answer him but was left with nothing, so you just shoved the paperbag and places it in on the little space between the two of you, encouraging him to open it. he’s still not getting it and looks at you with genuinely asking eyes, but you’re too stubborn to meet his eyes and just keep looking at the walls to your right, peach blush already forming again.

“it’s for you,” you brave yourself to look at him in the eyes and finally say it, “happy birthday, papa.”

enji felt like his brain short circuited. but you ushered him to open your gift before he could say anything. you watch as his big hands fully envelop the big green box inside, the one your clumsy hands almost dropped.

he opend the box and stares at it for a while. it’s a platinum rolex day-date 40 from it’s 2021 men collection.

“this is expensive,” was the first respond he let out.

“we-well, that’s why i’d been taking extra shifts,” you sheepishly rub the back of your head. enji’s strong gaze didn’t waver.

“you didn’t have to—“

“but i want to !” you cut him,

“it’s just—“

you grab the pillow behind you and hide your face in it, finding it hard to speak to him eye to eye like this. “i love you, and sometimes i can’t help my feelings, i just thought, this is what people do to their loved ones.. you know,” you explain in a voice growing smaller than before, almost completely muffled by the pillow.

he lets out a sigh before repacking his gift, putting it back inside the paperbag and placing it on his side. you’re getting nervous.. is he mad ? did he not like it ? were you pushing it ?

all your silent doubt dies down as he pulled you close to his chest.

“i love you too, thank you.”

his voice runs beautifully through your ear, the sensation going straight to your heart. you ease up and holds him back.

“um, papa,”

“hn”

“i still have another gift,”

he pulls back and looks at you with a raised brow. you better not have unnecessarily give up you rest just to buy him a ‘gift’, it translates. both your hands come out in front of you in a waving motion to dismiss his half true accusation, but you struggled so much trying to pull out the right words.. you just let out a bashful sigh and unties the knot in front of your outer, before letting the dense fabric hit the floor, revealing the pretty babydoll sitting pretty and proper accentuating your pretty pretty curves.

he stills.

“do-does it look weird..?”

he scans over you for a while but your embarrassment made you thought he was looking at you in a weird way.

your cheeks are heating up, eyes glued to your thighs before you hear a rustle and suddenly your back is against the futon with one arm pinned above your head by his weight, and your other one is in his, you look at you favorite set of eyes that matches yours and the blue sky, he presses your hand to the side of is face and land a deep kiss on the innerside of your wrist, leaning against it while staring back at you.

it was a good birthday.

happy birthday todoroki enji, 8.8.21

[amimimi]

kissing face

synopsis: tiktok makes langa a lil insecure

genre: fluff

pairing: langa x reader

warnings: mentions of insecurity and physical appearance, kissing

word count: 1.4 k

notes: i started thinking about what langa’s fyp on tiktok would look like (it would be chaotic. pure, utter chaos. that and cooking tutorials. no in between) and then I wrote a lil paragraph for sh*ts and giggles. and THEN it turned into...all of this. also, i wrote this during my study breaks so if the gramma/spelling is off, it’s because my brain is actually fried. enjoy!

langa sees all those tiktoks making fun of that face boys make before they kiss you and he’s like “ew?”

but then he tries to practice kiss in the mirror and he’s horrified because wtf wtf wtf wtf? has he been kissing you like this since you started dating him? why haven’t you said anything?

so when he’s over at your house for a studying session, the both of you sitting on your bedroom floor, you don’t notice that langa is purposely withholding from kissing you because you’re in study mode.

the timer on your phone goes off, signaling for you both to take a break. sighing deeply, you rub the back of your cramping neck and look up from your laptop. you turn over to langa, who’s eyes are glossed over from reading, his hair a mess from frustratedly running his fingers through his locks—he looks like he’s just been shuttled from another dimension.

“i’ve...been rereading the same five sentences for the last thirty minutes” he murmurs, sounding equally as dazed as he looks.

this earns a giggle from you, as you shimmy over to wear he sits. with a sympathetic smile on your face, you smooth his hair down as you coo “poor baby”, before you start giggling again.

langa, whose brain is way too fried to respond, can only stare at you, blinking ever so slowly. you settle closer to him, cupping his cheeks and langa catches your gaze dropping to his lips.

suddenly, he gets a mental image of those god awful expression he saw on tiktok and he’s shaken from his studying induced stupor. Wide eyed, langa wriggles out you grasp feeling a little bad at your confused expression.

“is something the matter?” you ask, frowning slightly. “i’m sorry—”

langa places his hands over your cheeks before you can finish your apology. “close your eyes” he says, straight faced.

you blink. “huh?” you question.

“can you close your eyes...please?” he mumbles, a lot less confident than before. he pouts a little in an attempt to conceal the fact that he’s slightly blushing (you notice).

still confused, you shut your eyes. “okay, but hurry up. your hands are cold—” you stop yourself when he feel his breath fan your face. without thinking, you inhale on instinct. it was embarrassing to admit, but you loved the scent of langa’s breath. he was impeccable when it came to hygiene, so he always smelled nicely. but you loved langa’s scent—it was hard to explain. he always smelled like mint and well, himself. him. him. him. him.

you knew what was coming next, but you couldn’t help but jump when his lips met yours—soft and hesitant. inhaling much more deeply this time, you slightly part your lips and lean into the kiss. langa hums appreciatively and you bring your hands up to grasp onto his forearms.

before you can open your eyes, langa swiftly pulls away, leaving you slightly dazed. you open your eyes to see langa cautiously staring at you.

“why...what was that all about?” you ask, trying to keep your face from twisting into a smile. you give langa’s forearms a squeeze and he drops his hands from your face, resting them on your lap.

“nothing...” langa mumbles, looking everywhere but at you.

he was obviously not telling the truth, and you knew that. but you also knew that the inner workings of langa’s mind was an enigma and if you were being honest, this wasn’t even close to being the strangest thing he’s done.

so you let it go—that is until he’s getting ready to go home.

you’re standing in the doorway, watching langa tie his shoes before he stands up straight and adjusts the strap of his messenger bag over his chest.

you grin. “that was hot”

langa blinks. “what was?” he asks, bending over to pick up his skateboard.

“when you adjust your bag like that” you reply softly, sliding your fingers over the strap before you bring your hand over his chest.

langa’s confused expression melts into a fond smile. you think he looks prettiest like this, smiling so easily with a gentle shimmer in his eye, like moonlight reflecting off the ocean.

“okay, i’ll keep note of that” he replies quietly and you can’t help but giggle at the sharp contradiction between his formal choice of words and the affectionate tone of his voice.

langa continues to softly grin as you giggle.

but then, oh shit, you’re staring at his lip again. langa panics, not wanting to ruin the moment but he’ll be damned if you see that ugly ass expression on his face before he goes in for kiss. but you must’ve seen it before right? did you notice but chose not to say anything out to preserve his feelings? did he really look like a fish while kissing you? a fish?

“all that studying must’ve fried your brain, huh?” you smile at him through half-lidded eyes, drumming your fingers against his chest. langa realizes he’s been staring at you with a dead expression and bites his lip.

langa takes the hand you’ve placed in his chest and grips it. “goodnight, y/n” he whispers before hesitating. “c-close your eyes”

the smile on your face falters as you take in langa’s tensed appearance. you tilt your head to one side. “why?”

“so...”

“so...?”

“i can kiss you goodnight”

there’s a long pause. langa’s grip on your hand has increased tenfold as he stares at you expectantly and he almost looks—nervous?

you blink, still confused, before langa reluctantly continues on.

“just...until i figure out how to fix my face...” he mumbles, eyes flitting off to the side.

“okay, now I’m really lost”

“i—” langa starts before sighing, deciding it would be better to show you. with the hand that isn’t clasped against yours, langa whips his phone from his pocket and unlocks it.

bewildered, you watch your boyfriend closely as he navigates through his phone—for what? you have no clue. off handedly, you think to yourself about how cute his expression is, brows furrowed and his lips set in a tiny pout.

“this, this” he rushes, bringing up his phone up to your face. you watch the tiktok he’s pulled up for you, in which a girl imitates the different ways boys go in for kisses.

you purse your lips in an attempt to conceal your smile, your chest jumping with an aborted giggle.

“oh, that’s—” the sentence dies in your throat when you look up at langa to see his dejected expression. “oh, no no no, langa, no. sweetheart, no”

“we’ve been dating for months—” langa mutters as you cup his cheeks, standing on your tip toes so that you’re eye level with him.

“no, oh my god, langa!” you half-whine, giggling as you try to get langa to look at you. he directs his gaze toward the ground, cheeks warm in against your palms.

“—and you didn’t tell me that I was making fish eyes at you?”

“well, not fish eyes” you offer thoughtfully and langa peers up at your earnestly. you drop one hand from his cheek to grab his forearm, raising his hand so you can examine his phone again. you rewatch the tiktok again. “your eyes don’t get scary wide and you don’t let your mouth hang open like that”

the sigh of relief langa let’s out almost sends you into a laughing fit.

“but...”

langa winces, giving a slight whimper behind shut lips.

“i mean, you do cross your eyes a little—”

langa shuts his eyes, face grim, like you just told him his puppy passed away.

“but it’s really cute, insanely hot, very model-esque!” you rush, but langa hangs his head. you fight the urge to roll your eyes at his theatrics.“there has never been a time in which you’ve looked even remotely mediocre, let alone unattractive.”

langa glances up you.

“but it’s embarrassing...” he murmurs.

“but your hot...”

“i can still be embarrassed!”

“so you agree?”

“agree?”

“that you’re hot?”

langa’s face flushes as you smile up at him innocently. “i...never said that” he mumbles, turning his face from you.

“well if it truly bothers you, we can practice” you offer, gently pinching his cheek.

“right now?” he asks incredulously.

“only if you’d like” you shrug, placing your hands on top of langa’s biceps. his heart beat quickens when you grin up at him coquettishly. “i think you kiss fine, but i can make you into a bona fide kisser if you want.”

“how long would that take?” langa questions. in his head, he imagines that it would take days—weeks, even, to scrap off the awkward expressions from his face.

“hmm,” you hum with faux thoughtfulness, tapping your finger against your cheek. “when is reki coming to take you to S tonight?”

“11:45?”

“i’ll have you done by 11:30”

langa blinks at you, cheeks slightly rosy. then, his face falls into that easy smile, the smile that you love so much.

notes: dramatic langa is very pleasing to me. this was supposed to be like, two paragraphs long but then it turned into all of this. please excuse me for any errors, i’ve been studying for midterms all day and I wrote this during my 5 minute breaks lfkgkdk@&:$:

i’ll come back to edit this!

[itshuu]

4. s/o with a phobia of bugs

pairing bakugou katsuki, takami keigo

word count 1,161 words

_____________________

bakugou katsuki

it was approximately 10:07pm when he heard a timid series of knocks on his door

ten o’seven pm. at night.

he had already called it a night around 8’o clock, tucked in for bed and drifted off into a peaceful nap

which was now being interrupted by god-knows-who

groaning out of frustration as he rubs his hands he throws himself out of the comfort of his bed roughly and heads for the door

muttering a string of curses and death threats under his breath as he prepares the activation of his quirk along with his famous scowl

flinging his door open carelessly he feels all the curses die in his throat, his scowl falter and his anger dissipate as he takes in your appearance

your tear-stricken face, your unstable posture and your sleepy yet fear-filled eyes

you watched quietly as burning rage and confusion settles on his face at once

and suddenly he’s pulling you into his room, closing the door behind the both of you as he engulfs you into a warm embrace

he doesn’t say anything taking in your grip on his shirt, your shaky breath and the erratic beating of your heart

slowly he detaches himself from you and holding a secure grip on your hand leads you to his bed through the darkness of his room

laying himself down he pulls you into his embrace again sheltering you both with a thin blanket as he sighs tiredly

he didn’t even consider that you could be the one outside his room during this time considering that you usually waltzed in whenever you pleased without a care

so he was surprised to see you outside, especially in tears

hearing your sniffle knocked him out of his thoughts urging him to look down at you

looking at your eyes through the hint of moonlight that peaked through his curtains he could tell you were ready

“what happened?” he asks, voice gruff with sleepiness

you pout at him

“there was a bug in my room” you whimpered

after a second of silence he assumes he must’ve made an offensive expression because immediately you were explaining yourself further

“it was huge and it ran towards me! I though I was going to die Katsu!” you wailed defensively

slowly he moved a hand to grip your cheeks, puckering your face

it was approximately 10:17pm

ten seventeen pm. at night.

he had already called it a night around 8’o clock, tucked in for bed and drifted off into a peaceful nap

which was now being interrupted by you crying over a shitty bug even after you beat him during training earlier today

“you… fucking dumbass”

takami keigo

keigo was on his way back from his late night patrol when he decided to fly through your porch, sliding your windows open and waltzing through

naturally, he expected to be greeted by your sweet voice chastising him about his choice of entry

but you were nowhere to be seen

overall he was confused about the atmosphere he confronted with

your decorative lights that hung from the ceiling were still on, bed sheets thrown around carefully and some of your items which sat on your dresser were strewn across the floor

peeking a quick look at your table clock which read 11:07pm he couldn’t help the suspicions that suddenly arised

sharpening his senses his ear strained to hear even the faintest sound to confirm your presence

after a few seconds of nothing he sighs and heads towards your door cautiously to check in your living room

until he steps on something squishy that makes his face scrunch in disgust

it was a roach

a part of him wants to laugh but he can’t help but grimace

he was more than aware of your fear for bugs

during picnics you’d make a run for it after yelping when a bee came to close or shriek along with a strained cry after encountering a roach in a public bathroom stall

keigo found it all so endearing yet entertaining

in a way he’s a bit disappointed he missed a front row seat to your mental breakdown earlier but at least he now knows the cause of the eerie atmosphere thats been settled

after disposing the bug off his shoe he walks out of the room with a hop in his steps, leaving the door open on purpose

“y/n, where are you” he sang as he walked into the living room giving you whiplash

he watched as you put a hand on your chest dramatically sighing and gave you a chuckle

“seriously… what did I tell you about entering through the balcony?” you questioned giving him a harmless glare

brushing it off as usual he shrugged as you gave him a hopeless sigh

walking closer to you he took in your appearance

a thin blanket covering your entire frame along with your toes that sat comfortably on the couch as well

he bit back his laughter as he played dumb and questioned

“what are you doing out of bed at this time?”

he watched you stare at him in silence for a second before beaming at him a smile

“I was waiting for you of course!”

keigo couldn’t help the hearty laugh that left his chest at your response to which you looked at him confusingly

“well let’s go to bed now, i’m beat. I even left the door open for us!”

he swears he watched all the color drain from your face after he mentions the door

“you… left the door open?” you responded flatly to which he held in his snicker as he forced himself to nod naturally

suddenly he heard a loud whine as you buried your face in the sheet that covered the rest of you

that’s when he broke his facade and let out this obnoxious childish cackle

after a good laugh that nearly brought him to tears he fished for your face in the sheets and cupped your cheeks giving you a sickeningly sweet condescending smile

pouting back at him with semi-wet eyes and a sniffle he snorted and planted a small kiss on your lips

“I killed the bug so let’s go to sleep yeah?”

the way your eyes opened in realization almost sends him into another laughing frenzy but before you can say anything he kisses you deeply with a smile

when he pulls away you flick his forehead and give him a disappointed look

“you’re so irritating”

© 2021 itshuu, all rights reserved. Do NOT repost, translate or claim my work as yours.

[multifandomfanficss]

Perfect

Doctor x Reader (Platonic!Jack x Reader)

Prompt: When on an adventure with the Doctor and Jack the reader is attacked by an alien called a Psyfon, a race with psychic abilities who feed off of emotions. The reader gets stuck in their perfect dream realm and the Doctor has to save them before they die in there.

Warnings: Dead family members.

A/N: Pretty much any Doctor can be used, but I mostly thought of 10 and 11 while writing it. The aliens were inspired by the Djinn from Supernatural. I was also inspired by Doctor Who: The Infinite Quest a little bit so if you’re a fan of the main series you should totally check that out. Also please let me know if I made an error in pronouns. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so everyone could relate. 

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and had run into Jack not long after you met him. When you first met Jack, an old friend of the Doctor’s, you didn’t believe him when he said he had known the Doctor for over a century. Judging by his earthly appearance and his age there was no way this could be true, but after watching him die you quickly learned of his immortality. 

You met the Doctor when he saved you from the Cybermen. Sadly he couldn’t save your family from such a terrible fate, but he got you out just in time. Ever since then they had been your biggest fear. Jack and the Doctor had lived for so long they both knew what it was like to lose the people they cared for most...nobody knew better than the Doctor. They helped you get through the pain that came after such a big loss. The Doctor would often hear crying coming from your room during your early nights on the TARDIS when he sat up late in the console room and he would be at your side in seconds to comfort you. He was always there for you no matter what. You wouldn’t have gotten to this point without him. By now the nightmares had gone away, mostly, and the scars had stopped bleeding, but they were still there. They would always be there. This history was a part of you forever, your history, and you were just lucky enough to have the Doctor in it. If you’re being completely honest with yourself you had grown a little bit of a crush on the Doctor. I mean who wouldn’t? He’s the Doctor. You loved him, but you would never tell him. You were happy living with his ignorance. Life was better in the bliss of your friendship. 

It had been just a normal adventure with your two best friends, Jack and the Doctor, but then again nothing was ever really normal with them. You were separated from your boys as your ran down a long dark corridor. Your shoes slapped against the cold, hard pavement as you rounded the corner. When you looked behind you there seemed to be nothing chasing you anymore. You stopped to catch your breath. 

The three of you had been investigating a series of psychic attacks that were leaving people brain dead and full of a strange blue goo. You weren’t sure what kind of alien could do such a thing, but you knew you had to find out. 

“(Y/N)?!” I hear Jack yell in a hushed tone. His voice echos throughout the empty building. You turn to look for him when you start to hear ringing in your ears and a giant pounding in your head. You feel your eyes close as your body hits the ground. 

THIRD PERSON POV

Jack stood next to (Y/N)’s body with his gun aimed at the monster while the Doctor crouched down to check their pulse. 

“You better hope they’re still alive!” Jack said as he shoved his big gun in the monster’s face. Usually the Doctor would object to pointing guns at people, but he was so worried about (Y/N) he didn’t have time to care about Jack’s manners. 

“What did you do to them?!” The Doctor asks standing up to look at the alien. They were from a species called Psyfons, a group of aliens who feed off the emotions of other people. 

“Don’t worry, they’re only sleeping,” the alien slurred. 

“For now,” they added. Jack hit the alien with the butt of his gun and knocked them out. The Doctor gave him a disapproving look.

“You should be happy. Knocking them out was the least I could do” Jack joked. The Doctor rolled his eyes and dropped down to (Y/N)‘s body again. Jack joined him this time. They were sweating. He placed his hand over their forehead.

“They’re burning up” Jack stated the obvious. 

“Yes, I know I-I I have to do-do this thing-“ The Doctor starts stuttering. 

“Then do it!” Jack cuts him. 

“But I can’t! I swore I’d never do it again! Not since-“ He started to get a little choked up.

“Since what?!” Jack questioned. 

“Not since Donna” The Doctor finished sadly. Jack put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“It’s the only way to save them” Jack told him.

“It was the only way to save her too” The Doctor says sadly.

“Maybe it’ll be different this time” Jack suggests.

“We don’t know that” The Doctor says coldly as he puts his hands to (Y/N)’s head and enter’s their mind. 

(Y/N)’S POV

You wake up laying in the grass in front of your old house. You hear the sound of birds and the sun is just a little too bright for comfort, but it’s home. You take a deep breath of the fresh air. You smile, but you’re confused. You look over to see the Doctor standing in the TARDIS door. Jack is nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Jack?” You ask. 

“Oh, popped off to see his friends at Torchwood, I suppose” The Doctor tells you. You nod as you look back to your house. 

“And we’re home because...” You wonder.

“The Psyfon knocked you out. I figured this would be a nice, safe place to rest for a while” He reminds you. 

“And I couldn’t just rest in the TARDIS?” You ask.

“I thought this would be a nice surprise” He says. 

“What year is it?” You ask. You doubt he would be able to bring you to a time period where your family is alive, but it never hurts to ask. 

“2021” He answers.

“So they’re not here” you say sadly.

“Who’s not here?” He asks.

“My family” You say becoming more sad, but more confused by the second. How could he just forget like that? You know he’s lived for a long time, but surely he wouldn’t forget something this important to you. Would he? He gives you a confused look.

“Doctor, my family is d-“ You’re cut off by the sound of a door opening. 

“You didn’t tell us you were coming!” You hear a voice say. You stop dead in your tracks and you go white. It can’t be. 

“Mom?” You say as you turn around to see her. You run to her and engulf her in a giant hug. 

“Woah, what’s that for?” Your mother asks delighted, as you practically knock her down. 

“I just missed you. That’s all” You say as you try to hold back your tears. 

“Where is everybody?” You ask, as it suddenly dawns on you that your family is alive. 

“Your father went to go pick up your brother and sister from school” She informs you. The Doctor comes up behind you and takes your hand. He squeezes it, giving you a big smile. He is an impossible man, but you never knew he could do something like this for you. 

“Why don’t you two come in? It’s almost time for tea” Your mother invites you in. You gladly accept, of course. You watch your mother go into the kitchen as you pull the Doctor aside into the living room and hug him tightly. 

“Thank you” You tell him. That’s when you start to let go of a few tears. 

“I figured it was time to go home” He says happily. The hug lingers a little longer than usual. He just holds you. Then he places a quick kiss to your cheek, just missing your lips. Your face goes red. This is completely out of character for your relationship with the Doctor. Sure you had always wanted to be something more, but he didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want your relationship with him to change. You figure it’s best to just dance around the subject. You pull away and clear your throat. 

“So, um...how did you do it?” You ask.

“Do what?” He asks looking lovingly into your eyes. 

“Bring my family back?” You ask with a slight chuckle.

“I didn’t” He says simply. That’s when your head begins to ring again. 

“Let me in, (Y/N). That’s it.” You hear the Doctor’s voice, but his lips aren’t moving. Suddenly there is a light and the Doctor shifts uncomfortably. He cracks his neck and stretches out his arms. 

“Good thing there was a body here for me to jump into or else that could have been disastrous” He comments. You give him a confused look. 

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry (Y/N), but none of this is real” He says plainly. 

“What?” You ask. This all certainly looks and feels real. The sound of a kettle whistle comes from the kitchen. The Doctor sniffs the air. 

“Is that tea?” He asks. 

“Tea’s ready!” Your mom calls from the kitchen. 

“Doctor, you need to tell me what’s going on right now” You demand. He looks into the kitchen and makes a face.

“The Psyfon. It put you in a dream state so it could feed off your energy and emotions. You’re dying in the real world. Turning to goo” He held out the last word as he made a face of disgust and interest. He gave you a sad look as he started to put the pieces together, of where you were and who you were with. You started to feel your legs give out from underneath you. The Doctor guided you to a chair. 

“I want to stay” You say numbly. 

“(Y/N), none of this is real” He starts.

“I don’t care. I want to stay” You repeat. 

“You’ll die in here” He begins. 

“Time works differently in dreams. I could easily spend my whole life here-“ You try to rationalize it.

“You’ll never see me again” The Doctor tries. 

“There’s a version of you here-“ You try, but are cut off again. He crouches down to your level and takes hold of your hands. 

“(Y/N), none of this is real. It will never be real. Your pain balances out your beauty. There wouldn’t be one without the other and that’s what makes you human and you are SO human. This is all in your head. You will be alone in here forever. Please just come home with me. There are people there who will miss you. Come back with me, back to the TARDIS, please!” He results to begging as a last ditch effort. 

“How can I go back when everything is so perfect here? I’m perfect here. I’m not a mess. I can just be me” You start to cry. 

“You’re always perfect to me and that little bit of mess makes you human. It doesn’t lessen your beauty or your creativity or your kindness. It just adds to who you are as a person” He says, wiping away a tear.

“Please. Come home with me” He begs. You nod in response as he gives your hands a squeeze. He gives you a sad smile. You stand together and you hear the doorbell ring. 

“That must be your father. He forgot his keys again” Your mother laughs as she walks to the door. The door opens and the Doctor pushes himself in front of your as three Cybermen crash through the door. 

“DELETE” One yells, as it kills your mother. 

“NO” You scream, as the Doctor tries to keep you from running towards her.

“She isn’t real! Come on!” He yells over the sound of pounding Cybermen feet as he pulls you out the back way to the garden.

“Where’s the TARDIS?” He asks. 

“It’s on the other side of the house!” You say as you pull him around the building. You lay your eyes on the beautiful blue box as the Doctor shoves his key inside. 

“YOU WILL BE UPGRADED” The Cybermen shout. Once unlocked, you push your way through the doors to find a hollow Police Box. 

“Why is this happening?!” You cry. The Doctor places his hands on your shoulders. 

“The dream is turning into a nightmare to try to keep you here. (Y/N), come on. You have to think. What’s keeping you here?” He asks.

“My family is dead!” You cry.

“Yes, something else” He tries to think. You look at his thinking face. His beautiful thinking face and it strikes you. 

“I’m in love with you” You blurt out.

“What?!” He looks back at you with a confused look. 

“The version of you here. I think he felt the same way” You give him an embarrassed look. He lets go of a big breath. 

“Well...” He starts as he tilts his head. 

“I suppose if admitting the way I feel gets us out of here then the real me doesn’t feel very different” He finishes quickly. 

“Wait, what?!” You respond. He gives you his classic Doctor smile before the Cybermen fade. Everything fades. The world goes black. 

You wake up crying with a pounding headache in your bed in the TARDIS. The Doctor rushes in just like old times. 

“It’s okay. I’m here” The Doctor tells you as he sits on your bed and wraps his arms around you. 

“I just had the most insane dream” You start to tell him. 

“Well...” His voice fades. 

“Doctor, was that real?” You ask him. He pulls back to look at you. 

“In a sense, yes” He goes on to explain the effects the Psyfon had on you and how he went into your mind to save you. He explains how you were unconscious when you came out of the dream state and that he brought you back to your room on the TARDIS to rest.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“He’s bringing the Psyfon to the Shadow Proclamation for me where they will be tried for their psychological attacks. They won’t hurt anyone anymore” He promises. After you’ve calmed down somewhat he gets up to leave the room. 

“You should get some rest” He says opening the door. 

“Wait! Doctor, do you think maybe you could stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” You ask. 

“Of course” He responds as he awkwardly climbs into your bed and wraps his arms around you. You almost forget about your confessions until he kisses you on the cheek. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N)” He says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Doctor” You say as you drift off to sleep to the sound of his dual heartbeats. 

[trsrina]

—> GET TO KNOW ME

thanks for tagging me @hannikz <33

when is ur bday? 11/11

favourite colour? honestly can’t pick but blue & yellow

any pets? no but i used to have three turtles

height? 161cm but ive probably grown a few centimetres since i last measured

how many pairs of shoes do u own? i have three pairs that don’t fit anymore but i still keep them for some reason 😰 and my three pairs of plain white sneakers and a pair of black loafers for school (don’t ask me why i have so many) and three pairs of shoes i actually wear and a pair that’s still in the shoe box not worn at all

favourite song(s)? island by youha, you’re on your own kid, daylight, death by a thousand cuts by taylor swift, the perfect pair by beabadoobee, farewell neverland and our summer by txt, shooting star by xg and a lot more i forgot about

favourite movie? i love coco, barbie and the 12 dancing princesses, clueless and Aladdin the live action

ideal partner? giggles minatozaki sana but she technically she doesn’t know yet but like she technically kinda my wife already not delulu!!! also yang jungwon my side chick 🫶 ahem also alhaitham and xiao (without the angsty stuff) and ningguang sugar mommy 😳

do u want children? no 💀 i don’t ever plan of getting married at all rlly and 90% of children are annoying af

have u gotten in trouble with the law? ofc not

what colour socks r u wearing? navy with cat patterns

favourite music genre? I like anything rlly but mainly pop and i like bossa nova

how many pillows do u sleep with? one

what position do u sleep in? sideways usually facing the wall

smth u hate when sleeping? light and sounds im the type that has to sleep in complete darkness and silence

breakfast? usually just any kind of bread occasionally choco cakes with milk/choco milk/milk tea mixed with coffee

have u tried archery? no and i’d probably suck i can’t even aim on roblox 😭

favourite fruit? apples 🫶

r u a good liar? i can’t lie for my life well maybe sometimes if it’s for smith rlly serious

mbti? intp-t 😎

innie or outie? going out if it’s with ppl i enjoy being with

leftie or rightie? rightieee

favourite food? very unhealthy but chicken nuggets and beef 😰

favourite foreign food? i have an unhealthy obsession with shrimp tempura 🍤 and i love love love shabu shabu

r u clean or messy? usually clean but messy when im in a bad mood

favourite phrase? oh my god ig

how long do u take to get ready? approximately 15 mins if excluding my skincare routine and brushing my teeth and the time it takes for me to get out of bed but like including that it’s an hour im usually someone who’d be like 20 minutes early so no rush

do u talk to yourself? a concerning amount the psych ward is calling for their missing patient

do u sing to yourself? yes a lot

r u good at singing? not at all 💀

biggest fear? clowns, drowning, ghosts if real, serial killers, exams, my primary school class teachers (im telling u i was at the verge of tears every time they talked to me literal trauma), my science teacher last year, death and yeah pretty much most things

r u a gossip? definitely yes i gossip a lot

long or short hair? short hair like long hair is pretty but it seems rlly annoying

favourite subject? english cause im good at it

introvert or extrovert? introvert with strangers and ppl im not so close with but i suddenly become an extrovert with friends like I wouldn’t be shy at all and would approach random ppl if i wanted to

what makes u nervous? everything i have really bad anxiety like the lift is slow? im gonna be late even if i was 20 minutes early. haven’t done my assignments yet? the deadline is next month but still

who’s ur first real crush? my 1st grade classmate we used to be friends for a while and then he’s now an ass so we don’t rlly talk anymore

how many piercings? two, one on each earlobe

how many tattoos? none ofc but i would love to have some when im older

how fast can u run? average speed? but i have great stamina like i could run 15 laps max at a moderate speed

what colour is ur hair? very dark brown in the dark but a chocolate light brown under light idk i had multiple ppl ask me if i dyed my hair before tho i didn’t my mom says it’s bc of malnutrition

what colour are ur eyes? very dark brown almost black

what makes u angry? lots of things i have anger issues

do u like ur name? i used to hate it when i was younger bc it’s regularly used as a masculine name and i thought it was bad but now ive learnt to embrace it and it’s unique so great 👍 but I still not enjoy trying to explain it to ppl 😕

would u like a boy or girl if u had a child? girl

what are ur strengths? being early and flee the facility on roblox im like rlly good at that game

what are ur weaknesses? mention one thing about a father figure and im done for

what is the colour of ur bedspread? i have no idea what that is but i googled and i still don’t rlly understand but i think i have none sry my brain doesn’t work

what colour is ur bedroom? well i have this really really light blue wall colour basically white at first glance and brown wood furniture

tagging (no pressure!!) @seungiepup @wonillaa @aerisfy @winteringdream @badmuni @yeniiverse @yenqa @hypesahi @jwonsociety

[primasveraas-writing]

11th Doctor x Reader- “Let it be”

Request(s): “Reader singing "Let it be" as a lullaby for doc 11 go to sleep. please thanks for the request made” -@supermegapauselouca

“Hiii! I saw how amazingly you wrote Enough with the 11th Doctor, so I was wondering if you'd write something fluffy with him, maybe the reader is sad or had a bad day and he cheers then up? Tysm!” 

I decided to combine these two because they’re both hurt/comfort fluff. I hope you guys enjoy and thank you both for your patience!

Relationship can be read as platonic or romantic.

WORD COUNT: 642

XXX

"Doctor."

Despite your exhaustion, your voice cuts clear through the room. The Doctor looks at you, but doesn't make eye contact, fiddling with something on the wall of the TARDIS in front of him.

"When are you going to go to sleep?"

It's been a long few days of travel and adventure. There's barely been a moment to rest in between the various mishaps and heroic saves, but you had finally found a moment of peace to sleep.

However, while you had managed to sleep like a rock for most of the previous night, this morning, you had found your companion in precisely the same position he was in last night, pouring over a heap of metal and wires with no apparent function. Then, he had dismissed your concerns with several mumbled excuses and a wave of the hand, and you decided to stay up with him until he too, went to bed.

"Soon," the Doctor smiles, but it's misleadingly bright. You don't fall for it, frowning at him.

"Come to bed with me," you plead, your voice suddenly, surprisingly, soft. Warmth flushes your cheeks. "You need sleep, Doctor."

He shakes his head, gazing down at his feet. "I don't think even that would help." He mutters, and again, he’s misleadingly casual in tone.

"Then just lie with me."

He considers the offer, his head tilting to the side. "Okay," he says after a long moment of silence, and you take his hand, leading him to your room in silence. You watch as the Doctor removes his shoes, jacket, and bowtie, then settle down on the bed, drawing your favorite blanket around you. The Doctor accepts a blanket of his own as he lies down, but his eyes remain wide open.

"How can I help you?" You whisper, running your fingers through his hair. "Do you want me to sing?"

You're half joking, but you're desperate to help the Doctor sleep. His troubles are complex and pervasive, and although you cannot lift his burdens, you want to help ease them.

The Doctor smiles faintly at your words. "Nobody's sung to me in a long time." He shuts his eyes, thinking. "Maybe an opera singer in the 18th century. Not exactly a lullaby, though."

"I don't know any lullabies," you admit lightly. The Doctor seems calmer now, and you exhale slowly. "Nobody has sung to me in a while either."

He spreads his hands, as if inviting you to proceed as you wish.

"What about the Beatles?" You ask, hoping that their familiarity may help. At the very least, you have some of their songs memorized.

The Doctor shrugs, but he's smiling. "As peaceful as anything I've ever heard," he concedes, and you grin back.

Now that he's so close, the tiredness painting his face is unmistakable. There are dark circles under his eyes, jarring against his pale skin. He looks sad more than anything else, helpless in his insomnia. You take a deep breath and begin to sing.

"When I find myself in times of trouble…"

The Doctor offers you another sleepy smile, then closes his eyes as you continue to sing. He's still awake- you can tell by the uneven rise and fall of his chest, but he seems slightly more content. 

"...whisper words of wisdom, let it be…"

And on to the next verse. Beside you, the Doctor has completely relaxed, and he sighs once you're halfway through. You comb your fingers through his hair, paying more attention to the sounds of his gentle inhales and exhales than the words of the song.

"..there will be an answer, let it be…"

The song is barely a whisper by the end, but it doesn't matter. The last note is hanging off your lips when you realize that the Doctor is finally asleep, lured to rest by the comfort of your voice.