#tbh... I don't want to sleep yet | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

flippinpancakes64 · 6 months ago

Note

The Cullens with a reader that REALLY loves to nap/sleep?

This was on my list of ones to do so thank you! And I hope you like it!

Edward:

He got really concerned for a while

There was a period of time, before he started stalking you at night of course, where you would go hours without responding to his texts

He got so anxious one day that he just showed up at your window to make sure you were alright

And you were asleep

Pretty much every time after that if he wanted to know where you were he knew that's what you were doing

When you start dating and he can come and go more freely he'll cuddle up next to you and just watch (creepy)

But then it gets to a point where he gets a bit scared

You guys are out and about and you mention that you're tired and just want to go home and sleep

Or instead of watching a movie with him you'll just drift off

Genuinely asks Carlisle if this is normal

He needs reassurance from both you and Carlisle that this is normal and that sleeping is just fun <3

Alice:

Before you two start dating, when you guys are still just friends, she finds it odd that you won't hang out with her

Like wdym you don't want to spend a whole Saturday shopping

Also finds it odd that you don't want to text or call all the time

She just straight up asks you tho

Almost doesn't believe you when you say it's because you're napping/sleeping

"Okay yeah I toootally believe that you sleep from 7 pm to 4 pm"

But it's true

When she eventually makes her own Edward-style trip to your house in the middle of the day and sees you sleeping she has no choice but to believe it

When you guys start dating she gets a little more annoyed

Like come on you are her partner dammit why are you sleeping all day?

She makes the mistake of waking you up one day

That doesn't go too well

She doesn't do that again

She gets a bit huffy when you sleep all day but just make it up to her by letting her drag you wherever she wants one day and you're good to go

Jasper:

Your relationship is slow to build

You start off only seeing each other in school

Then talking a little bit

Then hanging out at school

Then talking a little bit after

Then hanging out a little bit after

So he doesn't really question anything when you don't talk to him most of the time

He just thinks you don't want to move on to being that close yet

But once you guys start dating, that's when he notices it

For a while he thinks it's just him because he's so used to Alice literally always being there and ready to talk to him

But when he goes over to your house for the first time to hang out and you just take a nap

He puts the dots together

He doesn't mind one bit

He's quiet after all

I feel like he would appreciate the peace since his house is never quiet

And not to mention that he can feel the tranquil and calm emotions radiating from you

You bet your ass he is cuddling with you

He just likes to lay there and close his eyes

Rosalie:

She was pretty quick to notice tbh

I feel like she's one to pick up technology pretty quick

So she's a texter

And she notices that you go dark at like 4 pm every day only to respond again sometime in the middle of the night then stop again

She gets a little annoyed

She thinks you're ignoring her

She gets petty for like, a week

Won't acknowledge you in the hallway or answer your texts

It's only when you basically have a breakdown in front of her that she tells you why

And then you have another breakdown explaining that you're literally just sleeping

So then she feels bad

Cue a week of apology gifts

After that though she starts coming over to nap

Sleep sesh

She brings over a book or a movie to watch while you sleep next to her

She loves it

Like Jasper she loves the tranquility

Emmett:

He'd also notice pretty quick that something's up

Like wdym you don't want to go throw rocks at cars or whatever he does for fun

He would just take it as you being a whimp tho

"You don't want to hang cause you're scared of *insert random thing* right?"

You give in one time and go do something with him and he notices like an hour in that you are yawning like crazy and walking super slow

You explain that this is your regularly scheduled nap time and then it makes sense to him

Unfortunately tho he's not one to just lay around

Something's gonna have to change

Maybe one day dedicated to doing what he wants and then the rest you can sleep as much as you want

Compromise :)

Esme:

Honestly she's down

When you first come over she thinks she's prepared for anything humans would need but then you start drifting off at like 4 and she's like "oh"

Instantly is putting you in a room and telling everyone to be quiet

Is a little concerned but also she thinks it's cute

And it makes her lowkey miss being human and being able to take naps too

LOVES laying with you tho

Will grab a book and lay there with you for hours

Chill queen

Carlisle:

He's concerned

He can't help it

He sees people come in multiple times a day every day with similar symptoms and rarely do any of them have nothing wrong

Once he has learned the extent of your sleeping, he takes you to do some testing

Not even an at-home consultation

You are going into the clinic no ifs, ands, or buts

When he finds that there's nothing wrong though, he'll ease up

Just a little

Is still super concerned though

Will check up on you every once in a while when you're sleeping

He likes spending time with you though

His favorite thing is if you take a nap on the couch in his office

He loves just having you there while he does paperwork for the clinic

Vampire! Bella:

She remembers naps all too well

And she misses them too

Even though she loves being a vampire she does miss getting to rest and disappear from the world for a couple of hours

She will never ever wake you up

Unless there's like an emergency or something

Loves to chill

Again, would be content just reading a book or drawing while you're sleeping

Would like to cuddle too

She likes the warmth and the comfort

Might even convince someone in the Cullen house to buy a nice bed for when you come over (if she doesn't already have one)

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withleeknow · 6 months ago

Text

moonstruck.

pairing: minho x f!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst if you squint; they're in love <3, mentions of menstruation, there's a bit about orpheus and eurydice so you're not familiar you might want to look it up beforehand idk, not as edited as i'd like. not a lot of warnings here tbh it's just pretty mild and mellow saur 🤷‍♀️ (also i don't exactly love this but i hope you'll still tolerate it anyway lol) word count: 4.7k playlist 🎧: moonstruck - enhypen // this is how you fall in love - jeremy zucker ft. chelsea cutler // pansy - taemin // tightrope - zayn

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

Minho is the kind of love that you thought only existed in movies and fairytales. Make-belief, too good to be true, out of reach.

When he rests his head on your shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep like he’s been doing for the past hour or so, you give into the urge to stare at him in wonder. An angel on earth, if there ever was one.

His long eyelashes that you could only dream to have, the slope of his nose, his pink pouty lips, his impeccably sharp jawline, and even his fluffy hair that’s ticking your cheek as you look at him as if you don’t get to see him like this every day. But that kind of beauty is something that demands to be showcased in the world’s most exquisite museum and admired by anyone who comes across it.

Minho is beautiful in every sense of the word.

And you adore him. You do. You love him with every single beat of your pathetic little heart and then some.

Surely, you must’ve saved a nation in one of your past lives to deserve someone as ethereal as him.

Turning your face to the side, you press a kiss against his forehead. The touch makes him stir awake, eyelids fluttering open as he groggily looks around and stretches out his limbs, in the limited space that he has anyway. His sleepy voice asks you, “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I think they said we still have about forty minutes before we land. Do you want to go back to sleep?”

Minho shakes his head, covering his mouth when a yawn forces its way out. He straightens his back to his full height sitting down, then slumps against the seat a little bit. He rests his cheek against the top of your head while his hands find one of your own to hold in his lap.

He rubs the skin of your fourth finger for a moment before he eventually stills, lightly snoring again while you look out the window, gazing at oddly shaped clouds and blues and the reflection of the sun on the waters below.

–

After you’ve checked into the hotel, freshened up and readied yourselves to explore the scenery, Minho takes you down to the beach. It’s a little chilly, spring hasn’t yet settled into summer. Even with a light jacket on, you still shiver every time the wind rushes by like it’s playing with the waters. But it’s nice – the sea breeze in your hair and the sunlight on your face, your lover by your side, his fingers intertwined with yours as you walk along the shore together. The blue of the sea almost blending in with the sky where they meet somewhere out there on the horizon. Seagulls flying overhead, families enjoying their relaxing vacation, children playing in the sand way down the shoreline where all you can make out are blurry silhouettes dancing about.

It’s paradise on earth. It’s an escape that you desperately needed. Exhilarated doesn’t even begin to describe how you felt when he told you that he’d booked a Jeju trip for your anniversary.

He’s always been the perfect partner. Always knows just the right thing to do for you whenever you need a pick-me-up. He may not seem like it, but Minho is beyond caring and considerate. He’s a man of few words but he certainly makes up for it with his actions.

“Hey,” he says, pointing somewhere ahead of you. “Remember what happened there?”

“Hmm?” Your eyes try to follow the direction of his finger, until they find a spot where two people are sitting, watching the water in front of them, content smiles passed between lips as they talk animatedly. “Didn’t you confess to me there?”

He smiles as the memory resurfaces in his mind. “Did you know I almost chickened out?”

You two started out as friends way before you got together.

Three years ago, just a few months after you’d both graduated from college, Minho asked you to go to Jeju island with him. You thought it was a little strange – though not that strange since you had been on trips with him before, but it was always in a group setting with all of your other friends. Never just the two of you.

Nonetheless, you agreed. You wanted to get out of the city anyway. You needed a change of scenery to clear your head and to recharge. Everything was starting to become too much for you - being 22 and in limbo. You felt like you kept falling behind no matter what you did. Everyone was moving forward and you were running in place no matter how hard you tried to get out of that slump.

Everyone around you was outgrowing you and your little life, and all you could do was pretend you were fine.

It was one of the lowest you’d ever felt, and you suppose that was why you said yes to Minho’s invitation. A vacation didn’t seem like it would help much, but it certainly couldn’t hurt.

A few days away, with nothing but the sun and the sea to help you get out of your own head.

A tropical paradise and Minho. It wasn’t the end of the world. There were worse things you could think of.

That, and the fact that there had always been something between you and him. Not crazy sexual tension or anything, but just enough of a noticeable spark. An inkling of something that neither of you ever acted upon.

“Did you?” you ask. “Didn’t you plan the whole trip back then to confess?”

“What? No. Why would I willingly do that when you could’ve rejected me? Then I would’ve been stuck in a hotel with you and on the plane ride back.”

You squint at him. “Then why did you take me on that trip?”

Minho shrugs. “Friendship trip to cheer you up.”

Years with him and he still makes you feel as warm as he did the first time you kissed. You gaze at him with what must be the world’s most lovestruck look plastered on your face. You reach up to press your lips to the corner of his mouth, then watch as a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“You did confess though,” you argue.

“Well, yeah, but that wasn’t planned,” he tells you. “You just... We were sitting right there,” he tips his chin toward the same spot again, “and you had my jacket on because you were cold. You were watching the sunset and you looked so pretty. I couldn’t help it. Almost chickened out though.”

You stop walking, and this makes him stop too. Minho glances at you with his head slightly tilted, wearing a puzzled expression.

“You never told me that,” you say.

“You never asked.”

Pouting, you tug him toward you until he’s close enough for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Minho is good, so incredibly good for you that sometimes you can’t possibly fathom how you even deserve him. He never meant to get anything out of it; he just saw that you were struggling and wanted to make it better for you.

Maybe you didn’t do a very good job at pretending, not if Minho could see right through you.

Before him, you had a fear of heights. Not the literal kind, but rather the kind of heights that often accompanies big leaps, big changes. A fear of falling, maybe that would be more accurate. Falling and failing and hitting rock bottom with no way to climb back up. A fear that you would always be stuck with this life forever, trapped in an existence you never asked for. A fear that no effort to escape your reality would be enough, and you’ll always be trailing ten steps behind even if you try twenty times as hard.

You pull him down so you could properly kiss him, your lips slotting together perfectly like he was made for you, like he’s the only person you’re ever meant to kiss in this lifetime. You can taste his smile, minty and happy as he moves against your mouth, his arms sliding around your waist to hold you to his body by the small of your back.

“If I had known,” Minho pulls away slightly, mumbling against your lips, “telling you that would get me brownie points, I would’ve told you ages ago.”

You roll your eyes with affection.

“So all this time,“ he says, “you thought I asked you on that trip just to get into your pants?”

“You did get into my pants on that trip!”

“Let me remind you that I only wanted to do something nice for you. You were the one who almost jumped my bones right then and there after I said I liked you.”

You slap his chest as he throws his head back in a hearty laugh. Minho takes your hand in his once more as he drags you along, savoring the cool sea breeze and the golden daylight dancing on glittering waters before the sun bids you goodbye.

Minho is the kind of love that makes you want to curl up into a ball and ugly cry for an hour straight.

In a good way, of course. In the best way possible.

So that’s what you do, on a fine Tuesday afternoon, sitting on a couch surrounded by three cats as you wait for him to come home, perfectly sheltered from the harsh sun outside.

He returns eventually, toward the end of your crying session. When he sees the pile of tissues on the coffee table, soaked with your tears and snot, his heart nearly falls out of his ass.

Minho drops everything, rushing to you like you’re on the verge of spontaneous human combustion because clearly, this is a normal reaction to have when you come home to a girlfriend who’s been sobbing in the dark for god knows how long.

That, and the fact that said girlfriend doesn’t cry very often. Not by herself and certainly not in front of others.

Doesn’t mean that you’re immune to the occasional bouts of tears whenever shark week closes in, though.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Another rush of tears breaks as you look at him. You wipe your eyes and your nose with the tissue you’re currently holding, before throwing it on the table to join the pile you’ve accumulated.

You launch yourself forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. The sudden force takes him aback, makes him gasp a little.

He freezes as you cling to him like a desperate koala, before his hands slowly land on your back, rubbing slowly, hesitantly, as though he’s afraid he’s hurting you.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?”

“PMS,“ you hiccup your answer out, to which Minho only responds with a relieved Ah, his hands now moving more assuredly on your body.

“Anything hurt? Sore?”

“No. Just… missed you today. Love you a lot.”

There’s something saccharine in his gaze when he pulls back and regards you with his big doe eyes, softened and endeared, yet there’s still a twinkle of mischief peeking through the sugary glaze.

He moves to make himself comfortable next to you on the couch but still makes sure to keep a hand on you so you don’t grow impatient.

Once he’s effectively squished between you and the armrest of the sofa, he says, “You missed me so much that you started crying? You could’ve texted me, or called. I would’ve come home sooner, crybaby.”

“I didn’t cry because I missed you. I cried because I love you.”

He pretends to think for a moment. “I honestly can’t tell if I should be offended or not.”

You jab a finger at his ribs.

Sure, the mere thought of Minho brings tears to your eyes sometimes. It’s not really a secret anymore.

There’s something about him, just him, how wonderful he is and how all of the stars in the sky must have aligned themselves to make you and him happen. He’s the love of your entire life, there’s never been any doubt about it. Your other half, perfect for you.

You’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and you’re positive that you will never feel this way about anyone ever again. Your love for him runs so deep, so powerful that it overwhelms you at times, drowns you in nothing but affection for him and only him. A love that spreads like wildfire through your calm and sacred forest.

It’s cliché beyond words, that one day you would be having these thoughts about someone. You used to watch this kind of sentiment romanticized in movies, used to cringe and laugh at sappy lines in books and TV shows though there was always a part of you that longed for that kind of love.

You didn’t talk about it often, not even with the people closest to you. You always found it a little embarrassing to admit that you wanted love. To love and to be loved. There was something so utterly vulnerable in the act of yearning and isn’t it such a scary thing? To be vulnerable? You never saw the appeal in showing someone the deepest, darkest parts of you.

What if they leave? What if you bare yourself to someone and they deem you not worth staying for? How would you come back from that kind of rejection?

You suppose it always held you back - the fear of being open that goes hand in hand with the fear of being left behind. Maybe you have more fears than you’d like to admit.

Then came Minho.

No, that doesn’t sound right.

He didn’t come crashing into your life like a tidal wave and unraveled your every belief.

He was always there by your side, a calming presence that you could lean on when things got tough. A friend, a solid foundation. He’s the relief after every monsoon, the first day of sun after a long and harsh winter.

He saw you for who you were, all the messiest parts of you, and loved you anyway. In spite of your mess? Because of your mess.

He taught you that love isn’t always extravagant gestures and grand declarations that Shakespeare would applaud.

Love is acceptance. Love is staying with you on your gloomiest days and holding your hand through your dreariest moments. Love is lingering glances by the doorway before he goes to work because you’re half asleep but you’re still trying to reach for him even in your dreams.

It’s sharing joys and burdens alike. Reminders to eat and gentle wake-up calls. A photo of you in his wallet, a silly picture of him as your phone’s wallpaper. Giggling with him after he tells a joke not because of the punchline itself, but because his manic chortle is even funnier.

Love is Minho cradling your face in one hand and holding onto your shaking fingers with the other, his steady gaze holding yours, and his voice whispering gently in the darkest of nights, “Your storm is my storm.”

At the end of the day, love is pretty simple. Love is him.

“Do you ever think about Orpheus and Eurydice?”

Minho laughs, the sound vibrating where you lay your head, his hand still absentmindedly rubbing the skin of your waist over your shirt. “No, I don’t think about Orpheus and Eurydice.”

You figured as much.

Your fingers trace invisible patterns on his chest as you hum your acknowledgment. Then you ask, “If it was me, if you were Orpheus, would you look back?”

His hands pause their ministrations, a little taken aback by the question you suppose. Your brain tends to pingpong between the most random things sometimes.

“You know,“ he says with an even voice, though the corner of his mouth still curls upward in amusement. “Other people just ask the worm thing.”

“The worm thing is boring. And we both know you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm.”

“You wouldn’t love me if I was a worm either.”

“That’s true. I don’t like worms,” you agree, chuckling while your boyfriend scoffs. “Answer the question, would you look back?”

There’s no right answer because you’re not expecting a correct response. It’s a hypothesis that can never be tested because you aren’t a nymph and Minho isn’t a bard with the ability to sway all life with his music. It’s a silly thought but it’s one that you’re curious about nonetheless, just to hear what he would say. Why not?

You’ve read many interpretations of the tragedy. In some, Orpheus hears Eurydice stumble and turns to catch her fall. In others, he can’t hear her at all. The story will forever be among your favorites, one of the things that never fails to turn you inside out no matter how many times you mull over it.

Minho is quiet for a moment. You think he’s about to shoot back with a witty retort that he always has up his sleeves, probably something about how he would find a loophole and trick his way out of the deal, or that he would personally fistfight Hades to get you out of the underworld. This wouldn’t surprise you at all.

Instead, he says, “Yes, I would look back.”

But regardless of how you choose to view the myth, the ending does not change. Orpheus always turns around.

He turns around because he loves her.

Minho’s fingers slip under your shirt to brush your bare skin, angling his head sideways so he could kiss your forehead.

Maybe he’s just saying it for the sake of being romantic, for the sake of saying what seems to be the right thing. It’s an answer that you can never give substance to, but you believe him with all your heart.

You believe him. You do.

“If it’s you, I would look back.”

Minho is the kind of love that eclipses the sun and dims the light of the moon. The kind of love that drowns out all the noise and makes everything a little more bearable. Not just the most horrible things – your fears and struggles alike – but even the smallest, most mundane things.

If there’s one thing that you absolutely hate, it’s the smell of nail polish. You hate the way it lingers in the air even after the bottle has been capped, hate how the smell of toluene stains your fingertips even after washing your hands several times with scented soap.

Though, the only time you try to tolerate it is when Minho convinces you to stay in and pamper each other. Pizzas that he picks up for dinner and tiramisu ice cream for dessert. Face masks and fancy candles that you save for special occasions. SoonDoongDori napping on various surfaces in your living room, an old vinyl playing from the record player he got you for your first birthday you shared together after you started dating.

You each take turns doing the other’s nails on the carpeted floor. It’s become somewhat of a tradition that you indulge in every month, where you would spend cozy Friday evenings indoors just because neither of you can be assed to indulge in a “proper“ date night. Being hermits together sounds infinitely more appealing to you than any other alternative.

“I’m not done,” you say, snatching Minho’s hand back after he pulls it away to admire your work. You blow on his fingers to make sure that the layer of black polish you applied earlier is dry, then you’re reaching for a bottle of beige polish sitting amongst the ones scattered on the floor. You take a tiny brush from the nail kit - one that’s rarely ever touched because neither of you knows how to do nail art - and dip it into the sand-colored polish.

“What are you doing?“ he asks, watching as you trace some squiggly lines on his middle finger, the lighter color settling nicely on top of the black even if he has no idea what you’re trying to draw. “What is that?”

“Soonie,” you say simply. “When you flip people off, you can show them Soonie.”

You don’t need to look at him to know that his attention is fixed on you even though he doesn’t give you a response. You feel his gaze on the side of your face, soft and warm and never leaving for even a second. He doesn’t say anything while you work though, maybe he doesn’t want to mess up your concentration while you’re so engrossed in what you’re doing. He only chuckles at your answer, then nothing afterward.

You don’t mind the lack of conversation. It helps you focus better on what you’re doing because you’re no artist by any means. You can’t draw to save your life, let alone master something as intricate as nail art, but this is therapeutic. It’s perfect to help you unwind after a long week - doodling your beloved cat on your boyfriend’s nails while Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls sets the ambience. You’ll get the ice cream when you’re done with your impromptu project, along with a little headache from inhaling too much of the polish scent perhaps, but isn’t that a small price to pay?

You take your sweet time with the teeny tiny details, like Soonie’s delicate whiskers and the darker strips of fur on his face. He still turns out a little wonky, a little lopsided here and there but it’s not like you expected it to turn out like a Picasso.

The real Soonie seems to sense a disturbance in the force when he wakes up from his nap and saunters toward you curiously. You pick him up and sit him in your lap so he doesn’t come too close to the fresh polish on Minho’s nails. “Look,” you say with a proud smile, pointing toward the small cat doodle. “That’s you.”

He studies it for a moment, focused on your portrayal of him but then he’s quick to decide that he’s not interested anymore before wiggling away from your lap to go join Doongie on the couch. You chuckle lightly, watching him as he walks off, wondering if this is what it will feel like when your future children enter their teenage years.

When you turn back to Minho, he’s still staring at you, a dazed look in his eyes as he blinks slowly, his hand resting limply on his thigh.

“What?” you ask. “Do you not like–”

“Marry me.”

The rest of your question dies in your throat, wilting away like cherry blossoms when summer nears. He doesn’t break eye contact, still that dreamy gaze when he peers at you. Nothing has ever changed in the way that he looks at you.

For a moment, you’re too stunned to speak. You think anyone would be when their boyfriend drops a proposal out of nowhere while you’re doing each other’s nails in your comfiest sweatpants.

Everything that you’ve been afraid of comes bubbling to the surface, every doubt, every fear, even every fleeting insecurity. They manifest as a ringing in your ears, a buzzing in your head that makes it hard to think about anything at all.

But then he shuffles closer, closer and closer until his warm breath fans your cheek, his nose nudging your cheekbone gently. It’s similar to what Doongie does sometimes when you’re lounging in bed and he just wants some love.

When Minho takes your hand and laces your fingers together in his lap, everything stills. The rumbling comes to a halt, the distant thunder fading slowly into the background of your mind palace until it’s reduced to mere white noise. “Marry me,“ he says again, and his voice is so tender that you ache. Tender and sweet and so full of wonderful adoration. If you ever have to describe what love sounds like, you would say it’s him and his voice, right here and right in this exact moment.

“A little dramatic to propose just because I drew your cat.”

He chuckles, presses a kiss to your cheek before he ducks down to deliver another kiss on the side of your neck. Then he pulls back, just enough to get a clear view of you and your now glassy eyes.

“Bottom drawer in our bedroom,” he tells you. You can’t lie; you have half a mind to leave him here and go check. “I bought the ring two months ago, but I knew I wanted to marry you two years before that. I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to do it but I realized the perfect moment doesn’t exist, because every minute I spend with you is perfect. I love you so much. It’s not because you drew me my cat, by the way. I think I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you.

“I love your weird brain and your blanket-hogging ass. I love that you’re crazy enough to listen to a song literally over a thousand times without getting bored. I even love you when you set ten alarms in the morning and still manage to sleep through all of them. I know you hate your smile but it’s my favorite smile in the world. Did you know my favorite color is the color of your eyes? The best part of my day is when I get to come home to you and the kids waiting for me. I want all of you forever. I promise I’ll love you twice as much on days that you don’t love yourself. When we’re old and gray and we look like raisins, I’ll let you go first so you won’t have to spend a single day alone. I’ll–” He stops when you let out a teary giggle, no bite in his voice at all when he says, “Please don’t laugh at me during my big romantic speech.”

It only makes you laugh harder, though it’s just as emotional. If you focus on the other part of his sentence, you’ll only crumble into a million pieces right here. “How very romantic of you to include the visual of us as raisins in your speech.”

Minho rolls his eyes – fondly, of course. When he pretends to squirm away from you, you tug him back by the collar of his shirt to plant an apologetic kiss on his lips which he eagerly accepts.

“Please continue,” you say, smiling against his mouth. “Tell me all the ways that you’ll love me.”

“You ruined it. I retract my proposal,” he grumbles, but his arms betray his words when they tighten around your frame, holding you close to him to steal another kiss. Then another, and another, until your faces are wet with tears and you realize that you’re both crying.

“I’m sorry,” you say through sniffles and tears. “Please keep going.”

“Make it up to me first.”

“How?”

“Marry me,” he repeats a final time. “I’ll give you a better speech on our wedding day.”

Years and years from now, when you’re old and gray and look like raisins – as he so poetically put it – you’ll remember this moment down to every miniscule detail. How the cats’ peace is disturbed by your tearful giggles and the strange look they give you before wandering out of the room, in favor of somewhere without two crying idiots. How the record starts skipping but neither of you can be bothered to do anything about the obnoxious sound. How the material of his shirt feels when you bunch the fabric in your hands because you need to kiss him, need him to be as close as humanly possible.

You’ll remember the sob that he hiccups when you tell him through choked up whispers, “Yes, I’ll marry you,” and how his lips feel when they tremble against your skin. You’ll remember the way he holds onto you like a lifeline, because he’s always been your salvation for as long as you’ve known him. You’ll remember what happens after, later that night when he finally slips the ring onto your finger. The words he whispers into the crook of your neck, “You mean the world to me,” and the emotions in his voice when you both realize this is the start of the rest of forever.

You’ll remember everything, all of it, every clumsy touch and every graceless kiss. Ugly crying on the floor and yet, it’s more perfect than anything you can ever dream of.

1K notes · View notes

youreverydayfangirl · 27 days ago

Text

You Are In Love

pairing: lando norris x fretwell! reader

summary: y/n y/ln has finally moved on from lando norris, or in which lando tries everything he can do to get his girl back

warning: angsty tbh, but has fluff in the end

a/n: after agessss!!! its all set in 2024

part 1 is here

"You know what I'm so done with you. Of course you want me now, I'm trying to get over you Lando, I need to get over you." She said, her voice breaking a little. He wanted to grab her, hold her, apologise.

"What if I don't want you to." He said.

She completely stepped back, tears in her eyes.

"Fuck you Lando Norris."

Y/n didn't know how it happened, how quickly love could turn into indifference. Hate was one thing. Indifference was another thing completely. It meant that hearing his name wouldn't spark a reaction from her, seeing his face didn't make her heart skip a beat. She had loved Lando since she was fifteen, but at some point you have to give up, say goodbye. Because she'd rather feel nothing that still love him.

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

2024, February

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, maxfretwell and 2, 395, 039 others

yourusername GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

tagged: yourbsfusername

yourbsfusername WE LOOK SO GOOD

-> yourusername yeah we do don't we

lilymhe GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

→ yourusername GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS

francisca.cgomes Y/N WORLD TAKEOVER

-> yourusername ofc

maxfretwell EW ITS YOU

-> yourusername get out of my comments weirdo

user1 lando in the likes again

-> user2 be so real when is he not snooping

user3 she looks so much healthier

-> user4 right this y/n era>>>

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

Y/n groaned at the insistent ringing of her phone, pulling her from a very nice nap. "What do you want idiot?" She snapped at her brother, whose face had popped up on her phone.

"Good morning to you sleeping beauty." He said, laughing at his younger sister.

"Is there a reason you're calling me at-" Y/n squinted at the time on her screen, "-3 in the afternoon?" She rubbed her eyes, not yet fully awake.

Her brother laughed on the other end. "I needed to remind you of our plans tonight. Or did you forget already?"

Y/n huffed, pushing herself up against the pillows. "Of course not. I just wasn’t expecting a wake up call," she grumbled.

"Right, right. Well, don’t fall asleep again; we’re leaving in an hour," he teased.

As soon as he hung up Y/n groaned and shoved her head back into the comfort of her soft pillows.

She met Max at a small restaurant tucked away on a quiet street, where he was waiting at a corner booth, already nursing a beer. "Hey, stranger," he greeted her with a warm hug.

"Hey yourself," she laughed, sliding in across from him. "This place is cute."

“Only the best for my very picky little sister.” Max smirked, but his expression softened as he looked at her. “So, how’s everything going? Really.”

Y/n shrugged, giving a small smile. “Pretty good. Busy, you know. I've just been focusing on working on myself and staying sober, Bsf has helped out alot with that."

Max nodded, taking a sip of his beer. “And are you… happy?”

The question caught her off guard, and she hesitated, glancing away before looking back at him. “I mean… yeah. Things have been pretty good recently”

Max studied her for a moment, his gaze knowing. “But?”

“But…” she paused, pushing the menu away and sighing. “I don’t know, Max. Sometimes it feels like… like there’s something missing. You know? Like something’s still holding me back.”

Max leaned back, watching her carefully. “Lando?”

She let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “I thought I was done with that. After everything last year, I told myself I couldn’t keep holding onto him. He never even tried to reach out after everything that happened like come on. I've moved on now."

“Maybe he just thought you didn’t want him to reach out,” Max suggested gently. “You left pretty quickly.”

She stared down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of a napkin. “Yeah, but I couldn’t stay. After hearing him say… all that, after everything we went through, I didn’t know what else to do but leave.”

Max nodded, thinking for a moment before he spoke. “Look, I’m not saying you should do anything you’re not ready for, but I’ve known Lando for a long time. He’s got his faults, but I think he’s just as messed up over you as you are over him. I think he’s been struggling with it since the day you left.”

She felt a pang in her chest, memories of Lando flashing through her mind. “I don’t know, Max. It’s been a year, and I’ve tried so hard to let go.”

Max reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “And maybe you have. But maybe… maybe there’s a part of you that needs to hear him out before you can really move forward.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile, though her heart felt heavy. “I’ll think about it, Max. I really will. But for now… let’s just have a good night, okay?”

Later, when she got home, she found herself replaying Max’s words.

What if I don’t want you to?

Lando’s voice from that night echoed painfully in her mind. She’d loved him once, but now… she didn’t know what she felt.

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

yourusername has posted

liked by landonorris, maxfretwell and 4, 759, 364 others

yourusername the city that keeps the roof blazing

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux

francisca.cgomes i need you at more plssss

-> yourusername i'll see how i can manage

lilymhe i missed your cute face

→ yourusername I MISSED YOURS

maxfretwell since when were you here?

-> yourusername idk 🤷

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

-> yourusername LEO WAS SO CUTE

user1 Y/NLANDO CONTENT PLEASE 🙏

user2 OMG SHES AT A GPPPPPP

user3 grabbing at scraps atp

user4 LANDO WIN?

-> user5 i mean shes his lucky charm so..

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

The atmosphere was electric as Y/n made her way across the paddock. It had been so long yet felt as though no time had past since her last race. She kept her head low, hidden under one of Landos old caps he had given her as she found Max and stood next to him. The pair watching the chaos of the grid unfold in silence. Y/n couldn't help but have her eyes drawn to where Lando was standing, he looked good. Max cleared his throat and she diverted her gaze quickly.

Then, as if he could sense her presence, Lando turned around eyes darting until they locked onto her figure. His eyes soften, full of many emotions and it seemed as though all the tension that was built up in him disappeared.

"Lando." Someone calls and then the moment ends, as quickly as it had started. As he made his way over to his car, Y/n forced her gaze away, a feeling of longing and heartache in her chest.

Y/ns heart swells with pride as she watches Lando claim victory. A bright smile appears on her face and she claps her hands together, before stopping herself. As the team rushes to greet Lando, she watches him bask in the glory of his win, a grin stretching across his face as he’s showered in cheers and applause.

When he steps off the podium, champagne soaked and still radiant with exhilaration, their eyes met across the crowd once again. This time, theres an unspoken acknowledgment, a silent thank you really, for being there, even if it is in the background.

As she turned to leave, Y/ns head was reeling, feeling both pride and bittersweetness. Today wasn't just a victory for him, but a quiet triumph for Y/n too.

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

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfretwell and 7, 942, 293 others

yourusername gala tonight

francisca.cgomes HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT

-> yourusernameI LOVE YOU

maxfretwell you look like shit

-> yourusername i hate you so much

alexandrasaintmleux YOUR GORGEOUS MY LOV

-> yourusername AHHHHHHHHHHH

landonorris you look great

user1 LANDO COMMENTED OMFGGG

user2 MOOD: FREAKING OUT

user3 EATING UP ALL THE CRUMBS

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

The room glittered under the chandelier, polite chatter filling the room. Y/n smoothed down the fabric of her gown, trying to focus on anything but the pair of familiar blue eyes watching her from across the room. Lando looked devastatingly handsome in his tailored black tuxedo, his tie slightly loosened as if he’d already grown restless.

She spent the night avoiding him, moving between conversations and photos, but she could still feel his gaze heavy on her. Y/n found herself lost in thought as she took a sip from her champagne.

“May I have this dance?” His voice startled her, smooth and familiar as he appeared at her side.

Y/n hesitated, her champagne flute trembling slightly in her hand. “Lando…”

“Please, Y/n,” he whispered, his tone softer now, begging almost. “Just one dance.”

Against her better judgment, she nodded. He led her to the dance floor, his hand warm and firm against the small of her back. The music was slow, Y/n smiled at the familiar sound of Taylor Swift and found herself relaxing a little bit.

“Why are you here?” she asked quietly, her voice barely audible over the music.

“Because you are,” Lando replied, his eyes locked on hers. “And because I can’t keep pretending I don’t care anymore.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, all the noise and chaos of the gala faded away. They were just Y/n and Lando, two people who had shared too much history to be strangers but too much heartbreak to find their footing again.

“I—” she started, but her words were lost as Lando’s hand tightened slightly on her waist, pulling her closer.

“You can’t tell me you don’t feel it,” he murmured, his forehead nearly brushing hers.

Y/n swallowed hard. She felt it, of course she did, the way her heart raced, the way his touch ignited every nerve in her body. But it was complicated. It was always complicated.

As the song swelled, his lips hovered dangerously close to hers. She tilted her head slightly, her body betraying her better judgment, and for one reckless, fleeting moment, she thought she might give in.

“Y/n! Lando!” A sharp voice cut through the haze, and they jerked apart as Pierre's familiar face appeared.

Y/n stepped back abruptly, the spell broken. “I...I can’t do this,” she stammered, her voice trembling as she turned on her heel and walked away.

Lando stood frozen on the dance floor, watching her retreat into the crowd, his heart sinking as he realized she wasn’t ready to let him in. Not yet.

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

yourusername has posted

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yourusername paris ✅ where to next?

alexandrasaintmleux monaco?

-> yourusername i think we can figure something out

maxfretwell come home?

-> yourusername aww you miss me???

-> maxfretwell no i miss your cooking

landonorris was it fun??

-> user1 HELP NORIZZ STRIKES AGAIN

-> user2 hes so awkward HELP

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

The buzz of her phone jolted Y/n from her daze. She reached for it, her fingers trembling ever so lightly when she saw the name flashing on the screen.

Lando Norris.

She hesitated. It had been months since the gala in Miami, and wounds from the past were still fresh. Yet, she was compelled to swipe and answer, whether it was out of curiosity or something deeper.

“Hello?”

“Y/n.” His voice was softer than she expected, tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. “Hey.”

“Lando,” she said cautiously. “What’s going on?”

There was a beat of silence before he exhaled sharply. “I...uh, I had a rough race today,” he admitted, his vulnerability catching her off guard. “And I just… I don’t know. I thought of you.”

Her heart twisted at his honesty, but she forced herself to keep her tone steady. “I’m sorry to hear that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, though the strain in his voice betrayed him. “It’s just… you always knew how to make things feel less heavy, you know? I miss that.”

Y/n swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The conversation teetered on dangerous ground, pulling at memories she wasn’t ready to confront.

“Look,” he continued, breaking the silence. “I know things between us are… complicated. But the British Grand Prix is next weekend, and it’s a big deal for me. I’d really like it if you came.”

Her breath hitched. “Lando…”

“No pressure,” he added quickly, sensing her hesitation. “I just thought… maybe it could be a step. A chance to figure things out. Or even just to see each other without… everything else in the way.”

Y/n closed her eyes, the weight of his words settling in her chest. She wanted to say no, to protect herself from the whirlwind he always seemed to bring into her life. But a part of her - a small, stubborn part - wanted to see him again, to believe that maybe this time could be different.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll come.”

The relief in his voice was palpable. “Thank you, Y/n. It means a lot. Really.”

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

yourusername has posted

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yourusername a quick pit stop in silverstone

francisca.cgomes WIFEY IN THE PADDOCK

-> yourusername you know it

alexandrasaintmleux papaya has always been your colour

-> yourusername 🧡🧡

landonorris it was nice to see you today y/n.

-> yourusername great to see you too Lando!!!

-> charlesleclerc WHATTTTT

-> user1 bros as flabbergasted as the rest of us

user2 maybe he's not lando norizz afterall

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

Once again, Y/n found herself walking through the paddock, unconsciously smiling at the familiarity of it all.

She found him leaning against the McLaren hospitality building, his race suit tied around his waist, his hair disheveled from the helmet. He looked like the Lando she used to know—soft, nervous, and so heartbreakingly familiar.

“Hey,” he said, straightening when he saw her.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice careful, guarded.

“Can we talk?” he asked, motioning toward a quieter area behind the building. She hesitated, but nodded, following him.

They stopped near a secluded spot overlooking the track, the distant roar of engines filling the silence between them. Lando turned to her, his eyes searching hers for some semblance of forgiveness.

“I’ve been an idiot,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “For years, I’ve been an idiot. I didn’t know what I had with you until I lost it.”

Y/n crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. “Lando…”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted, his tone desperate. “I was scared. I thought if I kept things as they were, I wouldn’t mess it up. But I messed it up anyway. I pushed you away, and I hurt you. I’m so sorry, Y/n. For everything.”

She looked at him, her walls slowly crumbling as she saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You really hurt me, Lando. You made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Like I wasn’t worth fighting for.”

He stepped closer, his voice trembling. “You were always worth fighting for. I just didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I don’t want it to be too late anymore.”

Y/n felt tears prick at her eyes. She hated how much she still cared, how much she wanted to believe him. “Why now? Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because I can’t keep pretending I’m okay without you,” he said simply. “Every race, every win, every moment, I think about you. I want you in my life, Y/n. However you’ll let me.”

Silence stretched between them as she looked away, her emotions warring within her. Finally, she let out a shaky breath. “Lando… I don’t know if it’s that easy. There’s so much history between us, so much pain.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But maybe we can start over. Take things slow. Just… let me prove to you that I’m serious this time.”

Y/n hesitated, then nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. But I need time.”

Lando’s face lit up with a cautious, hopeful smile. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait. As long as it takes.”

--------

yourusername has posted

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yourusername some flics from summer

tagged: francisca.c.gomes

francisca.cgomes OMG STUNNER

-> yourusername SAYSS YOUUUUU

alexandrasaintmleux gorgg gorgg gorggg

-> yourusername try looking in a mirror

yourbsf my fav girll

-> yourusername love love love youuuuu

user1 THE SOFT LAUNCH

user2 no lando comment i fear we're doomed

user3 landoy/n truthers how are we feeling

-> user4 NOT GREAT.....

---------

Y/n wasn't sure how it had really begun, but after Silverstone her and Lando found themselves spending more and more time together, their friendship quickly turning to more.

One Saturday afternoon they found themselves walking down to the beach. Once they reached the destination, the pair collapsed, out of breath from running around like total idiots.

Lando nudged her with his shoulder. “Remember when we used to do this when we were younger? You were always faster than me, but I swear I was the better strategist.”

Y/n laughed softly, leaning into him. “You’re right, you did always find a way to cheat your way to victory.”

Lando pretended to look offended. “Cheat? I was simply using my superior intellect to my advantage.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Sure, Lan. Keep telling yourself that.”

One evening, they decided to take a road trip up the coast. They didn't make any exact plans, just wanted to drive. The windows were down, the cool air rushing in as their music played through the car speakers. The pair decided to stop to watch the sunset, Lando using his camera to take photos of the sunset. Y/n stood next to him, watching the colours change across the sky.

"The view is amazing." Y/n said, smiling softly as she watched the sun disappear further and further into the water.

"It really is." Lando murmured, taking in the way Y/ns face was illuminated by the sunset, making her look angelic. Y/n turned to see him already staring and couldn't help but feel herself blush under hist intense gaze.

“Thank you for this,” Y/n said softly, her voice carrying the weight of all the unspoken words. “For showing up when I needed you most.”

Lando lowered the camera, his hand gently brushing against hers. “I’m not going anywhere this time, Y/n. I’m here for as long as you’ll let me be.”

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

yourusername has posted

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yourusername back in Spa

tagged: francisca.cgomes

francisca.cgomes its honestly unfair for you to be that gorgeous

-> yourusername STAWP IT

maxfretwell nothing just you staking me

-> yourusername stalking is WILD

user1 no lando like or anything :(

user2 in the trenches right now

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

Y/n had always loved Spa, it was the first grand prix she ever attended, but today, something felt off. Whatever it was, it was making her anxious, causing her to pull back from Lando more than she would have liked.

It started when Lando and her arrived at the track. Lando was excited, practically bouncing with energy and had started rambling excitedly. Y/n however was feeling closed off, distant, something which Lando noticed immediately. He knew how to read Y/n, so he could tell when she wasn't herself. When they walked together toward the paddock, the silence between them grew heavier with every step.

"Y/n, what’s going on?" Lando asked, his voice laced with concern as they stopped by the track’s edge. She hesitated for a moment, looking out at the cars zooming by. Her mind was racing, filled with doubts she didn’t know how to articulate.

“I just… I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This, us, it feels like it’s moving too fast. I’m not sure I can keep up with it anymore.”

Lando’s brows furrowed, and his heart sank. “What do you mean? I thought we were-”

“I don’t know what I thought,” she interrupted, turning away slightly. “It feels like we’re stuck in the same cycle, and every time I think we’ve moved forward, we just fall back into the same old pattern. It’s like… like I’m always waiting for the next mistake.” She rubbed her eyes, feeling the weight of her frustration.

Lando opened his mouth to respond, but Y/n shook her head, cutting him off. "I don’t want to fight, Lando, but I just need some space to figure things out."

His chest tightened as he watched her, her words cutting deeper than he expected. He couldn't say he was completely surprised though, the uncertainty which had haunted them before now seemed to pull them apart all over again.

“Y/n… Please. Don’t shut me out.” His voice was soft, almost pleading, but Y/n could hear the vulnerability in it.

She looked at him, a conflicted expression on her face. She wanted to reach out, wanted to say that everything would be okay, but the doubt swirling inside her made it hard. "I just need some time, Lando," she said quietly. "I need to think."

With that, she turned away, walking towards the paddock, leaving Lando standing there, his heart heavy. He didn’t know what to do or how to fix it. This time, it felt like they were both on the edge of something, and if they didn’t take a step back, they might both fall.

The rest of the weekend was a blur. Y/n kept her distance from Lando, spending most of the time with Alex and Kika and staying away from the constant tension in the air. The moment that should have been about racing and the thrill of competition was now overshadowed by the uncertainty hanging between them.

For Lando, the race itself was a blur. His thoughts kept drifting to Y/n, wondering if he had pushed too hard, said the wrong thing. He knew he had to respect her space, but the silence between them hurt more than he expected.

By the time the race weekend ended, both of them were left feeling raw and uncertain. Y/n was overwhelmed, caught between her fear of falling into the same patterns and her desire to be with him. And Lando? He was left to wonder if it was too late, if the distance between them now was one they couldn’t bridge.

It wasn’t the end, but it sure felt like one, one that left both of them wondering where they went wrong.

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

yourusername has posted

liked by lilymhe, maxfretwell and 2, 394, 056 others

yourusername its been a good day :)

lilymhe care to explain further??

-> yourusername call and ill tell you gorg girl

-> user1 what i'd give to know what they talk about

maxfretwell nah you're doing too much

-> yourusername can you stop stalking my feed for once

francisca.cgomes motherrrrr

-> yourusername STOPPPP

-> user2 and father?????

user3 i love how none of them have even acknowledged the fact that their is a man there

user4 call me crazy but i feel like that might be lando??

-> user5 i fear youre on your own with that one

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

It was late August, and Y/n found her self on vacation in Italy, trying to catch her breath after the whirlwind of the past couple of months. The tension with Lando at Spa still lingered in her mind, making her question everything. She wanted to move forward, but fear kept holding her back. She didn’t know if Lando could truly understand what she needed, or if she could even put it into words.

As Y/n was bed rotting in her hotel, her phone dinged with a message from Lily.

Hey, I need a favor! Can you meet me at the marina? 3 PM sharp. Promise it’ll be worth it.

Y/n hesitated, glancing at the time. She didn’t have much planned for the day and figured a distraction might be good for her. "Alright, why not?" she muttered, grabbing her bag and heading out.

When she arrived, Lily was nowhere to be found. Instead, she was greeted by a deckhand who handed her a note with Lando’s unmistakable scrawl.

Come aboard, love. Let me show you something.

Y/n sighed, suspicion and curiosity warring in her chest. She debated turning around but, against her better judgment, stepped onto the yacht.

The moment she was aboard, the crew set the yacht into motion, gliding smoothly out into the glittering blue waters of the Mediterranean. Y/n frowned, looking around for any sign of Lando.

“Seriously, Lando?” she muttered under her breath.

It wasn’t until the yacht had anchored near a quiet, secluded cove that he appeared, stepping onto the deck with an almost sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he said softly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts.

“Lando…” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

“Before you say anything, just… let me talk.” He gestured for her to sit, and she reluctantly did, watching as he fidgeted nervously before taking a seat across from her.

“Y/n, I know I’ve messed up. I know I’ve hurt you, more than once. But I also know I don’t want to lose you again. Not now, not ever.” His voice was steady, but she could see the raw emotion in his eyes.

“Lando, it’s not that simple,” she replied, her voice quieter than she expected.

“I know it’s not,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “That’s why I wanted to do this. To show you that I’m serious. That I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.”

She glanced around, taking in the serene beauty of the cove, the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull of the yacht, the soft music playing in the background. It was a scene straight out of a dream, but it was also so Lando - grand, romantic, and slightly over the top.

“Lily was in on this, wasn’t she?” Y/n asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Guilty,” he admitted with a small laugh. “I needed backup to make sure you actually showed up.”

Y/n smiled at this, stifling a laugh.

“Look, Y/n, I know I can’t erase the past. But I want to build a future with you - a real one. No games, no misunderstandings, no half measures. Just us, figuring it out together.”

The sincerity in his voice made her chest tighten. She wanted to believe him, to trust that this time would be different.

“I don’t know, Lando,” she said after a long pause. “What if we mess it up again?”

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said without hesitation. “Together. I’m not going anywhere this time. I promise.”

Y/n stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all she saw was determination.

“I can’t promise I won’t get scared,” she admitted.

“Then I’ll remind you why we’re worth it,” he said with a soft smile, reaching out to take her hand.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Y/n felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could finally get it right. She squeezed his hand, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, Norris. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

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

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yourusername wasnt exactly how i thought today would go but im not complaining. lando my bestfriend, i have never been more proud of you than today, congrats on your win and the constructors championship my love xx.

tagged: landonorris

lilymhe YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTEEE

-> yourusername STOP STOP STOP

ybsf yeah friends my ass

-> francisca.cgomes RIGHT????

alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY! do you know how hard its been to keep this secret

-> yourusername IM SORRYYYY

maxfretwell MY EYES??? NEVER GOING TO RECOVER

-> yourusername i thought you were supposed to be older than 5

landonorris never would've been possible without you

-> yourusername im always gonna be by yourside lan xx

-> user1 currently sobbing

user2 when i tell you i SCREAMED

user3 HE WAS THE MYSTERY GUY

user4 i was right and you can all suck it #y/nlandotrutherforlife

-> user5 you were right. i owe you an apology.

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

The atmosphere at Yas Marina Circut was electric as Lando crossed the finish line, securing another win and the constructors championship for McLaren. The McLaren garage erupted in cheers at a 1-2 podium, people hugging and cheering.

Y/n stood in the VIP area, her heart pounding with pride and excitement before she made her way out with the rest of team. As he climbed out of the car, arms raised in triumph, she couldn’t help but feel her own emotions bubbling to the surface.

Lando sprinted toward his team, embracing them but he quickly pulled away when he spotted her. He began weaving through the crowd, and before Y/n could fully process what was happening, he was right in front of her.

Without a word, he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet as she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. And then, with the entire paddock watching, Lando kissed her. It wasn’t just any kiss- it was passionate, raw, and full of everything they’d been through to get to this moment.

The crowd around them erupted in cheers, camera flashes capturing the moment as it played out on the big screens around the circuit. Y/n could hear people losing their minds in the background, but none of it mattered. In that moment, it was just them.

When they finally pulled apart, Lando pressed his forehead to hers, a soft smile spreading across his face. “I told you we’d figure it out together,” he whispered, his voice just loud enough for her to hear over the noise.

Y/n chuckled, wiping a tear from her cheek. “You did, and I’m so proud of you. You deserve this, Lando.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “We deserve this,” he corrected, pulling her close again as the crowd around them roared louder.

That night, as the celebrations continued, Y/n and Lando stole away for a quiet moment on the balcony of his hotel room. The city lights twinkled below, and Lando, still wearing his racing suit, wrapped an arm around her waist.

“This feels like a dream,” Y/n said softly, leaning into him.

“It’s not,” Lando replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It’s just the beginning.”

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after literal months pt 2 is finally up. sorry it took so long but i felt like i had to do it justice and give you guys a good pt 2 and not a half assed one. but here it is an i hope you enjoyed it. thanks everyone for all of the support i got :)

@f1fantasys @saachiep81 @tini5 @melrosaeparker @styl1shl1v @ilivbullyingjeongin @saachiep81 @chloeannabelle @sleutherclaw

#formula1 #f1 masterlist #lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris angst

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artbiter · 2 months ago

Text

wolf in sheep's clothing

art donaldson/reader nsfw summary: art falls for you first yet patrick gets the fortune of having you. what else is art supposed to do but play dirty? tags: stanford!art, stanford reader too, art is a borderline homewrecker, art donaldson is a SNAKE, patrick gets cucked right under his nose </3, oral, slight body worship, TBH idk note: hi this is my first time writing ff since .. 2021 .. and this is definitely a diff style from the ao3-approach i usually take to writing but please enjoy i really like art donaldson i really like challengers and i really like art taking what he wants (and i really like mike faist in blonde curls)

art donaldson is not a homewrecker, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his chance with you.

he first meets you at one of his games, eyes flitting over the crowd and panting hard after a rather close singles win, before his gaze is magnetically drawn to your pretty face in the bleachers. smiling with your friends, you look so happy to just be watching this game, and when you make eye contact with art you wave excitedly like he's a celebrity, and whisper to your friends after he salutes back with a grin, trying to catch the breath your gorgeous smile has knocked out of him.

he wants to find you so bad after, and so he does. your friends are tennis groupies, hanging behind to flirt with any guy with a racket in hand, but you're just there for moral support. he chases after you just before you leave, just to say hi. an innocuous greeting and thanks for your support. and he sees how jealous your friends are that you tag along once with them and immediately get picked up by art freaking donaldson, but you seem to be oblivious, beaming at him and clasping your hands to your chest. you tell him he was great out there, that you've never "gotten" tennis but that you can feel he's a pro anyway. you part ways and he can't stop thinking about you.

when he tells patrick that he's met the prettiest girl he's ever seen at one of his matches, patrick thinks it's endearing and the epitome of dumb puppy love.

"did you even get her name? or were you just drooling over her?"

"nah, that would've been weird... right? oh shit, should i have? i was trying to be normal about it, i don't know." art beats himself up for not even picking up on your name in conversation, and resolves to seek out your identity and ask you out.

so when he finally has the fortune of seeing you again at a party, he's heartbroken when you smile and wave to patrick in tow.

"patrick!" you laugh and bound up to the pair. "didn't take you as a stanford party type of guy."

"i'm a plus one tonight. lucky i ran into you, huh?" patrick is eye-fucking you and doesn't even try to hide it, and art feels like doubling over in pure grief.

patrick notices but says nothing, only introducing you to art. "yeah, i'm here with my buddy art." he slaps art on the back lightly and art finds out that you and patrick met at another party before this. he remembers you from patrick's anecdotes over lunch, where patrick wouldn't shut up about the hottest chick he's ever seen who wouldn't go home with him, but has been texting ever since.

some other girl, presumably one of your friends, attaches herself to art's arm for the rest of the night, but he can't bring himself to notice or care when patrick kisses you and you lean into it.

patrick got to you first, and art hates himself for it. he won't admit it, but he feels the resentment festering inside of him as soon as patrick announces it's official.

the next best course of action for art is to play the best friend role, obviously. except like the unassuming snake art is, he's going to be your best friend, too.

he's your puppy, waiting on your beck and call — whatever you need, he's got it. your bio homework is impossible? sure, you can copy his. you got no sleep last night? he has your regular order from your favorite café committed to memory. patrick's being such a bad boyfriend? oh, tell him all about it.

"he's so inconsiderate," you whine, slumping over your pillow. "can you believe he forgot our six months? and when i brought it up, he didn't even say sorry. he was just, like, 'i didn't know we were still in high school.' i wanted to die, art, really."

art clicks his tongue in sympathy, criss-crossed on your dorm floor and nodding along to your laments. "no, he's definitely wrong here. i'm sorry he forgot something so important." for good measure, he adds in, "guys should be looking out for their girlfriends all the time. i'd be celebrating monthly anniversaries if i had a girl."

"ugh, right? i thought so, too." you flop back onto your bed, turning your head to gaze at art. he thinks you're so beautiful like this, clad in a t-shirt and shorts, bare faced with tears tinging your eyes. "you're a good guy. i don't know why you don't just date."

he doesn't want to date anyone if it isn't you, but he doesn't say this.

art watches you and patrick continue for another few rocky months, marked by arguments spawned from patrick's chronic nonchalance and your sensitivity to his perceived lack of care. and art gets the full report from both sides; patrick tells him all the time about how he's really trying to make you happy and support you, but he doesn't see why you value such small things. and you cry to art, sobbing that patrick never takes you out anymore if it isn't to fuck, that patrick is too friendly to other girls. art thinks to himself that patrick doesn't deserve you, but he rubs small circles on your back and reassures you that you need to do what's right for yourself.

(he's elated when you don't remove yourself from his touch.)

when you finally break it off with patrick, he hears it from his best friend first.

"dude, she dumped me." patrick's voice buzzes over the phone. "not gonna lie, i saw this one coming. but i thought i was doing good, seriously. fuck, what am i gonna do?"

"i'm sorry, man," art sympathizes before he hears a knock on his door. "yeah, it really does suck. take a breather for a few days. i'm sorry, but i really have to go right now." he peeks into the peephole and sees you standing outside. "let's talk more later?"

patrick is still rambling on the other end, but art hangs up and opens the door for you to immediately come spilling.

"art, i broke up with him. i really couldn't do it anymore." you tell art more things he already knows, like that you liked patrick a lot but you were just uncompatible in the end, and that you wished he listened. as always, art feeds into you, agreeing with your every word. something deep inside art tells him it's wrong to coax his best friend's girlfriend into breaking up with him, and that he's messed up for offering you his support when patrick technically should come first. but when you look up at art through wet eyelashes, sniffling and yearning for comfort, who is he to deny you?

art cups your face gently and presses his lips to yours. he doesn't miss how your eyes widen, but you don't jerk away. his heart pounds in his chest as he holds the small of your back with one hand while the other caresses your cheek. you smell so clean and warm, and your lips are so soft art wonders how patrick could ever give you up without a fight. it solidifies art's need for you, that if patrick won't make you happy, he will.

when you pull away from him, you're breathless, voice barely above a whisper. "art, i don't think we should—"

he can't contain himself from kissing your neck, relishing the soft, smooth expanse, inhaling your scent so deep into his lungs he finds it oxygen. "tell me you don't want this." he laps at your jaw, sucking light bruises onto the sides of your throat. "tell me you don't want me to treat you the way you should be, and i'll stop."

you moan his name involuntarily, and art takes it as the green light to carry you to his bed and kisses back up to your lips. "i'm sorry," he murmurs into your skin. "i'm sorry. i want you so bad."

"then show me," you sigh softly, hands rooting themselves into his blonde curls as his tongue probes your mouth.

like you even had to ask.

tugging down your sweatpants and feeling like coming just as the sight of your underwear, art immediately tears it off of you. he latches himself to your cunt, already weeping, and he looks up at you through hooded eyes, pupils blown wide. "already so wet for me, baby?"

"mmf..." your fingers, still tangled in his hair, tighten their grip as you push his head forward, and he obliges.

he licks wide stripes, feeling you convulse and twitch every time his tongue comes in contact with your clit. his dick throbs in his pants just from eating you out.

"you taste so sweet. fuck, you're delicious," he pants, making out with your pussy like it's your lips. "don't know how i survived this long without you."

you buck your hips up into his mouth, mewling and spasming as he suckles and licks at just the right places. your cunt is soaked, but neither of you can tell whether it's from your arousal or how much art is slobbering over your pussy. "right there," you squeak out, a hot wave washing over your body as you cum on art's face.

and fuck, art almosts busts on the spot with you. his mouth doesn't cease, swirling patterns all over your vulva, grazing over your clit, dipping his tongue inside of you as you lock your legs around his head desperately.

"too much, too much!" you feebly try to pull his head up from your cunt, but he's so addicted to your taste he barely notices how sensitive you are now, how your clit twitches and aches for a break.

art can only laugh softly as he pulls himself back up to you, kissing you gently as his hands roam underneath your shirt and to your bra clasp.

"mm, you're so good," you gasp into art's mouth as his kiss becomes sloppier. "so good to me, art."

"it's what you deserve," he mumbles back, unhooking your bra and clumsily pulling your shirt off so your tits spill free. and even art is admired by his own self-restraint, just staring at your perfect body on display for him. he's been dreaming of this day for months now, jerking himself off late at night to thoughts of you sucking his cock, to pictures of you smiling on his phone, to the memory of your voice the day he met you. it's so wrong of him to fuck his best friend's ex fresh after the split, but why do you feel so right beneath him? "i've been waiting for this," he whispers into your neck. "been wanting to show you how much i want you. want to make you feel good. want to treat you so much better."

"fuck me, art, please," you beg him, relenting and palming at his boxers. you're so fucking easy, letting him touch you like this and being compliant as he undresses you, kisses you all over, shrugs his boxers off as you help him position his cock right at your entrance. it's not your fault that art has been nothing but kind and gentle to you. it's not your fault that he's been flirting with you since day 1, and now all his desires have culminated into head of a lifetime. and art finally has what he wants now: you.

and even when he barely pushes the tip in, he wants to cum inside of you so badly he feels dizzy. "so fucking tight, i'm gonna cum, gonna cum right now," he gasps in your ear as he unsheathes himself, stretching your warm, tight hole. "so perfect, holy shit. fucking made for me, baby, you feel so—" he can't stop himself from rutting into you, and he just about comes undone when he hears his name tumble from your lips in pained moans. it takes all the self-control in the world for art to not pour himself into your wet heat right now.

"slow down, art, fuck, you're so big," you sob, clawing at his back. he wishes he could fuck you nice and slow, the way he always envisioned his first time with you would be. he'd fantasized about nights with you full of languid strokes, making you scream his name with calculated, intentional thrusts straight to the spongy patch buried within you. but art is just a humble man, and when your walls, silky and warm, are choking his dick, he can't resist fucking into you like a jackhammer. you cry, moaning uncontrollably as your hands clutch tightly at him, letting his cock ruin you.

art's head goes fuzzy, and all he knows now is your pussy trying to milk him dry and that he can't say anything coherent besides strings of guttural moans telling you how warm, how tight, how good you feel on his dick, how your sweet cunt was made for him, how beautiful you look and sound at his mercy, how he wants you to be his so bad and that he'll do anything for you to be his. that his only regret is not claiming you first.

you keep crooning in his ear, honeyed moans that intoxicate him dizzier and dizzier as you tell him that he can have you. with a few more stutters of his hips, and a convulsing squeeze from your walls onto his cock, his head falls into the crook of your neck as he pulls out and shoots ropes all over your stomach, right as you cry out his name uncontrllably, heaving beneath him. a low, resounding grunt rips from his throat while his seed paints your abdomen, and he feels you shiver upon the warmth touching your skin.

"i'm sorry," he apologizes again like the gentleman he is. his breath still heaves at an uneven rhythm, staggering as he attempts to regain his composure, but every time his eyes fall upon you it feels like he wants to go for round 2. "i'll clean you up, pretty girl. you were so perfect." he presses his forehead to yours, sweaty and damp, and whispers, "you were made for me."

some sick sense of pride fills art from head to toe as your body trembles in an attempt to catch your breath, your hair disheveled and lips puffy, patches of skin blooming pink and red from art essentially making out with every inch of your body. and you blush when you catch him staring, covering your face and murmuring for him to come back to bed.

he did this to you. he made you such a picturesque image of ruined perfection, splayed out on his bed and stained with his cum, pleading for his embrace.

patrick would have to pry you from his cold, dead hands.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson #art donaldson x you #challengers smut #challengers x reader

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