#then again this is what i get for engaging

[pucksandpower]

Jilted

Charles Leclerc x runaway bride!Reader

Summary: you find out that your groom is a cheating bastard on your wedding day … Charles helps you pick up the pieces

The sun-drenched bridal suite buzzes with anticipation as you stand before the full-length mirror, your reflection a vision in white lace and satin. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nerves coursing through your veins. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, but something feels ... off.

“You look absolutely stunning,” your best friend, Mia, gushes as she adjusts your veil. “James won’t know what hit him.”

You force a smile, trying to shake the nagging feeling in your gut. “Thanks, Mia. I just ... I can’t believe this is really happening.”

Mia squeezes your hand reassuringly. “Cold feet are totally normal. Trust me, once you see James waiting for you at the altar, all those doubts will melt away.”

A soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. Your mother peeks her head in, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Oh, sweetheart,” she breathes. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”

As she enters the room, you notice her clutching her phone, her knuckles white. “Mom? Is everything okay?”

She hesitates, exchanging a worried glance with Mia. “I ... I’m not sure how to say this, honey.”

Your stomach drops. “Mom, what is it? Just tell me.”

She takes a deep breath. “I just got off the phone with James’ mother. She... she overheard him talking to someone. A woman.”

The room spins as you struggle to process her words. “What are you saying?”

“It seems ... it seems James has been seeing someone else. For quite some time, apparently.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You stumble back, gripping the edge of the vanity for support. “No,” you whisper. “That can’t be true. We’re getting married in an hour!”

Mia rushes to your side, her arm around your waist. “Y/N, breathe. We’ll figure this out.”

But you can’t breathe. The room feels too small, the air too thick. “I need ... I need to talk to him.”

Before anyone can stop you, you’re bolting from the room, your dress billowing behind you as you race down the hallway. You burst into the groom’s quarters, startling the group of groomsmen inside.

“Where is he?” You demand, your voice trembling.

James’ best man, Tom, steps forward, his face pale. “Y/N, what are you doing here? It’s bad luck-”

“Where. Is. He?” You repeat, each word dripping with venom.

The bathroom door opens, and there he stands — the man you thought you’d spend forever with. James’ eyes widen as he takes in your disheveled appearance. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

You laugh, the sound bitter and hollow. “What’s wrong? How about you tell me, James? Who is she?”

His face crumples, and in that moment, you know it’s true. “Y/N, I can explain-”

“Explain?” You spit. “Explain how you’ve been cheating on me our entire engagement? How you were going to stand up there and lie to my face, in front of everyone we love?”

James reaches for you, but you recoil. “Please, just let me-”

“Don’t touch me!” You scream, tears streaming down your face. “How could you do this to me?”

The room falls silent, save for your ragged breathing. James’ groomsmen shift uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. You turn to leave, but James grabs your arm.

“Y/N, wait. I love you. We can work this out,” he pleads.

You wrench your arm free, fixing him with a glare that could freeze hell itself. “Love me? You don’t even know the meaning of the word.”

With that, you’re running again, pushing past concerned guests and ignoring the calls of your name. You burst out of the hotel into the blinding sunlight, your legs carrying you down the street without a destination in mind.

You don’t know how long you run, your white dress now stained with dirt and tears. Eventually, you find yourself in a part of town you don’t recognize, your feet aching and your lungs burning. A neon sign catches your eye — The Dive Hole.

Without thinking, you push open the door to the dingy bar. The few patrons inside turn to stare as you stumble in, a bride in full wedding attire, mascara streaking down your cheeks.

The bartender, a gruff-looking man in his fifties, raises an eyebrow. “Rough day, sweetheart?”

You laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. “You could say that.”

As you collapse onto a barstool, the weight of the day finally crashes down on you. You bury your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The bartender slides a glass of amber liquid in front of you. “On the house,” he says gruffly. “Looks like you could use it.”

You lift your head, offering him a watery smile. “Got anything stronger?”

***

The world spins as you stumble out of The Dive Hole, your wedding dress now stained with whiskey and regret. The streetlights blur into a hazy glow as you teeter on your heels, struggling to maintain your balance.

“Hey, watch it!” A passerby shouts as you nearly collide with him.

“Sorry,” you slur, waving a hand dismissively. “Just trying to ... to find my happily ever after. Have you seen it? I think I lost it somewhere.”

The man hurries away, leaving you alone on the sidewalk. You laugh bitterly, the sound echoing in the empty street. “That’s right, run away! Everyone else does!”

As you take another unsteady step, your heel catches in a crack in the pavement. You lurch forward, bracing for impact with the cold, hard ground. But instead of concrete, you find yourself enveloped in warmth.

“Whoa there!” A gentle voice exclaims. “Are you alright?”

You blink, trying to focus on the face of your savior. Kind green eyes peer down at you, filled with concern. The man helps you regain your footing, his hands steady on your arms.

“I’m fine,” you insist, even as the world continues to tilt around you. “Just ... just celebrating. It’s my wedding day, you know.”

The man’s brow furrows as he takes in your disheveled appearance. “Celebrating alone? In the middle of the street?”

You nod vigorously, immediately regretting the action as nausea washes over you. “Yep! Best day ever. Who needs a groom anyway, right?”

“I’m Charles,” he introduces himself, his accent warm and inviting. “And I think maybe you should sit down for a moment. There’s a bench just over there.”

He gently guides you to the nearby bench, helping you settle onto it. You slump against the backrest, your head lolling to the side.

“So, Charles,” you drawl, poking him in the chest. “What brings you out on this fine evening? Looking for love in all the wrong places?”

Charles chuckles softly. “Actually, I was just heading home after a late dinner with friends. And then I found a beautiful bride who seems to be having a rough night.”

You snort, gesturing to your ruined dress. “Beautiful? I look like I’ve been through a war. A war of the heart.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles offers, his voice gentle and free of judgment.

For a moment, you consider spilling everything. But the wound is too fresh, the betrayal too raw. Instead, you shake your head, feeling tears well up in your eyes once more.

“No talking,” you mumble. “Just ... can you sit with me for a bit?”

Charles nods, settling onto the bench beside you. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

You sit in silence for a while, the cool night air slowly clearing your head. Charles remains a steady presence at your side, occasionally glancing at you with concern.

Finally, you break the silence. “I should probably go home. Except ... I don’t really know where home is anymore.”

Charles frowns. “You don’t have anywhere to go?”

You shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping your lips. “Nope. Funny how your whole life can fall apart in a single day, huh?”

Charles is quiet for a moment, seeming to wrestle with a decision. Finally, he speaks. “Look, I know we’ve just met, but ... I have a spare room. You’re welcome to stay there for the night, just to sleep it off and figure things out in the morning.”

You blink at him, surprised by the offer. “You’d do that for a stranger?”

He shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. “Well, we’re not exactly strangers now, are we? Besides, I couldn’t live with myself if I left you out here alone.”

You consider his offer. Every logical part of your brain is screaming that this is a bad idea, but something in Charles’ eyes tells you he can be trusted. Plus, you’re not exactly swimming in options at the moment.

“Okay,” you agree softly. “Thank you, Charles.”

He helps you to your feet, steadying you as you sway slightly. “My car’s just around the corner. Think you can make it?”

You nod, determined. “Lead the way, knight in shining armor.”

The ride to Charles’ apartment is mercifully short. You spend most of it with your head against the cool glass of the window, trying to keep the nausea at bay. Charles fills the silence with gentle small talk, his voice soothing in the darkness.

When you arrive, Charles helps you out of the car and into the elevator. As you ascend, the reality of your situation starts to sink in.

“Oh God,” you groan, leaning against the elevator wall. “What am I doing? I don’t even know you. For all I know, you could be a serial killer or something.”

Charles chuckles. “I promise I’m not a serial killer. Just a guy who couldn’t leave a crying bride on the street.”

The elevator doors open, and Charles leads you down the hallway to his apartment. As he fumbles with his keys, you sway on your feet, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you.

“Here we are,” Charles announces, pushing open the door. “Home sweet home.”

You step inside, taking in the stylish but comfortable living room. “Nice place. Very ... un-serial-killer-like.”

Charles laughs. “Thanks, I think. The spare room is just down the hall, but maybe we should get you some water first.”

He guides you to the kitchen, filling a glass with cool water. You accept it gratefully, gulping it down.

“Easy there,” Charles warns. “Small sips or you’ll make yourself sick.”

You nod, slowing down. As you finish the water, a wave of emotion washes over you. The events of the day come crashing back, and before you know it, you’re sobbing.

“Hey, hey,” Charles says softly, moving closer. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Without thinking, you throw yourself into his arms, burying your face in his shirt. Charles stiffens for a moment, surprised, before wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m s-sorry,” you hiccup between sobs. “I’m getting your shirt all wet and snotty.”

You feel Charles’ chest rumble with a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it. That’s what washing machines are for.”

He holds you as you cry, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. You cling to him, this kind stranger who’s shown you more compassion in one night than your fiancé did in years.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Charles asks gently.

You shake your head, still pressed against his chest. “Not yet. Maybe... maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay,” he says simply. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You stay like that for a while, your sobs gradually subsiding into quiet sniffles. Charles continues to hold you, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions.

As your breathing evens out, exhaustion begins to overtake you. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you find yourself struggling to stay upright.

Charles seems to sense your fatigue. “Come on,” he says softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you down the hallway to the spare room, supporting most of your weight as you stumble along. The room is simple but cozy, with a plush-looking bed that seems to call your name.

“There should be some spare pajamas in the dresser,” Charles says. “They might be a bit big, but they’ll be more comfortable than that dress.”

You nod sleepily, already fumbling with the zipper of your gown. Charles quickly turns away, a blush creeping up his neck.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it,” he stammers. “Bathroom’s right across the hall if you need it. And I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” you mumble, your eyes already half-closed. “Thank you, Charles. For everything.”

He smiles softly. “Goodnight. Sleep well.”

As the door closes behind him, you manage to slip out of your wedding dress and into a pair of soft sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The bed feels like heaven as you sink into it, your body finally relaxing after the emotional roller coaster of the day.

But as you lie there in the dark, the silence allows your thoughts to creep back in. Memories of James, of the life you thought you’d have, of the future that’s now shattered. Tears begin to fall once more, soaking into the pillow.

Before you know it, you’re padding out to the living room, sniffling quietly. Charles looks up from his spot on the couch, concern etched on his face.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Every time I close my eyes, I see ... I just ... I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Without a word, Charles opens his arms. You practically collapse onto the couch next to him, curling into his side. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

You nod against his chest, fresh tears soaking into his shirt. Charles doesn’t seem to mind, just holds you tighter and begins to hum softly, a soothing melody that washes over you.

As you lie there, surrounded by the warmth and kindness of this virtual stranger, you feel something you haven’t felt all day: safe. The steady rhythm of Charles’ heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you into a state of calm.

Your eyelids grow heavy once more, and this time, you don’t fight it. As you drift off to sleep, still wrapped in Charles’ arms and using his shirt as a makeshift tissue, your last coherent thought is a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, tomorrow will be better.

***

The first rays of sunlight filter through the unfamiliar curtains, gently rousing you from your slumber. For a blissful moment, you’re disoriented, unaware of where you are or why your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton. Then, like a tidal wave, the memories of yesterday crash over you, bringing with them a fresh wave of pain and embarrassment.

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. How did you end up here? Slowly, fragments of the night before come back to you — a kind stranger, an offer of shelter, crying yourself to sleep on the stranger’s couch.

Charles.

His name was Charles.

The smell of coffee and something deliciously savory wafts through the air, making your stomach growl despite the lingering nausea. Reluctantly, you drag yourself out of bed, wincing at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair is a tangled mess, mascara smudged under your eyes, and you’re wearing clothes that are decidedly not yours.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself to face your host. You pad quietly down the hallway, following the sounds of movement in the kitchen. As you round the corner, you see Charles standing at the stove, his back to you as he hums softly to himself.

You clear your throat softly. “Um, good morning.”

Charles turns, a warm smile lighting up his face. “Good morning! How are you feeling?”

You grimace, running a hand through your tangled hair. “Like I’ve been hit by a truck. Emotionally and physically.”

He chuckles sympathetically. “I bet. Here, sit down. Coffee?”

You nod gratefully, sinking into a chair at the small kitchen table. “Yes, please. And maybe some painkillers if you have them?”

“Coming right up,” Charles says, placing a steaming mug in front of you before rummaging in a drawer for the pills.

As you sip the coffee, relishing the warmth spreading through your body, Charles returns to the stove. “I hope you like omelets. I wasn’t sure what you’d be up for, but I figured eggs are usually a safe bet.”

“Omelets sound perfect,” you say, your stomach rumbling in agreement. “Thank you. For everything. I ... I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me last night.”

He waves off your thanks, sliding a plate in front of you. “No need to thank me. I’m just glad I could help.”

As Charles settles into the chair across from you with his own plate, a comfortable silence falls between you. You pick at your food, your appetite warring with the knot of anxiety in your stomach.

Finally, Charles breaks the silence. “So ... seems like yesterday is quite a story.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “A very long one.”

Charles’ green eyes meet yours, filled with gentle curiosity. “Care to share?”

You hesitate, pushing your food around your plate. Part of you wants to keep it all locked away, to pretend yesterday never happened. But another part of you is desperate to unburden yourself, to make sense of the whirlwind that turned your life upside down.

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “Well, yesterday was supposed to be my wedding day.”

Charles nods encouragingly. “I gathered as much from the dress. What happened?”

“I found out my fiancé — ex-fiancé now, I guess — has been cheating on me. Throughout our entire engagement.”

Charles winces. “Ouch. That’s ... I’m so sorry.”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant even as tears prick at your eyes. “Yeah, well. Apparently I’m great at picking them.”

“How did you find out?” Charles asks gently.

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, it was a real soap opera moment. His mother overheard him on the phone with the other woman, literally an hour before the ceremony. She told my mom, who told me, and ... well, you can imagine how that went down.”

Charles shakes his head, disbelief etched on his face. “That’s awful. What did you do?”

“I confronted him, of course. In front of all his groomsmen. It was ... not my finest moment. There was a lot of yelling, some crying, probably some mascara running. And then I just ... ran. In my wedding dress. Like some cliché runaway bride, except I had nowhere to run to.”

You pause, taking a sip of coffee to steady yourself. Charles remains silent, his face a mix of sympathy and something else — anger, maybe?

“I ended up in some bar I’d never been to before,” you continue. “Drank way too much, way too fast. And then I was stumbling around on the street, and ... well, you know the rest.”

Charles nods slowly, processing your story. “Wow. That’s ... that’s a hell of a day.”

You snort. “You can say that again.”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” Charles says, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand gently. “No one deserves that kind of betrayal.”

His touch is warm and comforting, and you find yourself fighting back tears again. “Thanks. I just ... I feel so stupid. How did I not see it? We were together for five years. We were supposed to spend our lives together. And all this time ...”

“Hey,” Charles interrupts softly. “You’re not stupid. He’s the one who made the choice to betray your trust. That’s on him, not you.”

You nod, not entirely convinced but appreciating his words nonetheless. “I guess. It’s just ... where do I go from here? We had a whole life planned out. A home, careers, maybe kids someday. And now it’s all just ... gone.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. “Maybe this is an opportunity.”

You look at him skeptically. “An opportunity? To what, have my heart ripped out and stomped on?”

He chuckles softly. “No, no. I mean ... look, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ve been given a chance to rewrite your story. To figure out what you really want, without having to consider someone else’s dreams or expectations.”

His words give you pause. You’d been so focused on what you’d lost, you hadn’t even considered what you might gain. “I ... I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s okay if you’re not ready to see it as a positive yet,” Charles assures you. “Healing takes time. But I promise you, this isn’t the end of your story. It’s just the beginning of a new chapter.”

You manage a small smile, the first genuine one since yesterday morning. “Where did you learn to be so wise, huh?”

Charles grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh, you know. I moonlight as a philosopher when I’m not rescuing damsels in distress from the streets.”

You laugh, surprised by how good it feels. “My hero,” you tease.

As your laughter fades, a comfortable silence settles between you. You find yourself studying Charles, really looking at him for the first time. He’s handsome, in a boyish sort of way, with kind eyes and an easy smile. There’s something familiar about him, but you can’t quite place it.

“So,” you say, breaking the silence. “I’ve shared my tragic backstory. What about you? What’s your deal, Charles?”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh, you know. Just your average guy.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Average guys don’t usually invite strange women in wedding dresses to stay the night. Unless ... oh God, you’re not married, are you? Did I just cause some poor woman to think her husband was cheating?”

Charles laughs, holding up his hands. “No, no, nothing like that. I’m very much single. And I promise, inviting strange women in wedding dresses to stay over is not a regular occurrence for me.”

“So what do you do, then? When you’re not playing knight in shining armor?”

A flicker of something crosses Charles’ face before he answers. “I’m ... in sports. Racing, actually.”

You nod, impressed. “Racing? Like, cars?”

“Formula 1,” he clarifies. “I’m a driver.”

Suddenly, it clicks. The familiarity, the nagging feeling that you’ve seen him before. Your eyes widen. “Oh my God. You’re Charles Leclerc. The Ferrari driver.”

He grins sheepishly. “Guilty as charged.”

You bury your face in your hands, mortified. “Oh God. Oh God. I cried all over a world-famous race car driver. I used your shirt as a tissue. This is ... this is so embarrassing.”

Charles reaches across the table, gently pulling your hands away from your face. “Hey, none of that. I’m just a person, like anyone else. And I meant what I said — I’m glad I could help.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “You’re sure? Because I’m pretty sure I got mascara and snot all over your probably very expensive shirt.”

He laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “I promise, it’s fine. The shirt will survive. I’m more concerned about you. How are you feeling now?”

You consider the question, taking stock of your emotional state. “Honestly? Still pretty awful. But ... maybe a little less awful than before. Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me last night.”

Charles smiles softly. “I’m just glad I was in the right place at the right time. And hey, look at it this way — you’ve got a pretty unique story to tell now.”

You groan, but can’t help laughing. “Oh yeah, because drunk and crying in a wedding dress is exactly how I wanted to meet one of the best F1 drivers in the world.”

“One of the best?” Charles teases, clutching his chest in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m clearly the best.”

You roll your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t realize I was in the presence of such greatness.”

As you banter back and forth, you feel something shift inside you. The pain is still there, raw and aching, but it’s no longer all-consuming. For the first time since yesterday, you feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be okay after all.

***

The roar of engines fills the air as you make your way through the bustling paddock, the excitement of race day palpable. You can’t help but smile, still amazed at how much your life has changed in the past few years. From runaway bride to Formula 1 WAG — it’s a plot twist you never saw coming.

“Mon cœur!” A familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Charles jogging towards you, his race suit tied around his waist. He grins as he reaches you, pulling you into a quick embrace.

“Hey, you,” you say, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

Charles shrugs, his eyes twinkling. “I’ve got time. Besides, I needed my good luck charm.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Flatterer. Go on, get back to work. I’ll be cheering you on from the garage.”

He steals one more kiss before heading back towards his team, leaving you shaking your head with a smile. As you turn to make your way to the Ferrari motorhome, a familiar face in the crowd stops you dead in your tracks.

Your ex-fiancé is standing just a few feet away, gawking at you with wide eyes. For a moment, you’re frozen, unsure how to react. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, since that disastrous almost-wedding day.

Before you can decide whether to acknowledge him or pretend you haven’t seen him, James is moving towards you, a strange mix of emotions playing across his face.

“Y/N?” He says, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Is that really you?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Hello, James.”

He looks you up and down, taking in your sleek outfit and the VIP pass hanging around your neck. “Wow. You look ... different. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with my partner,” you say simply, not feeling the need to elaborate.

James’ brow furrows. “Your partner? You mean like ... a business partner?”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, James. My partner. As in, the person I’m in a relationship with.”

His eyes widen comically. “You’re dating someone involved in Formula 1? Who?”

Before you can answer, a small group of fans approaches, their eyes lighting up as they spot you.

“Excuse me,” one of them says excitedly. “You’re Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, right? Could we please get a picture?”

You smile warmly at them. “Of course!”

As you pose for photos with the fans, exchanging a few friendship bracelets as well, you can see James out of the corner of your eye. He’s standing there, mouth agape, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a frying pan.

Once the fans move on, James practically pounces on you. “Charles Leclerc? You’re dating Charles Leclerc? How ... when ... what?”

You sigh, already tired of this conversation. “Yes, Charles and I have been together for a while now. Is there something else you needed?”

He shakes his head, still looking dazed. “I just ... I can’t believe it. How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” you say, not particularly wanting to rehash your past with him. “One I don’t really have time to get into right now.”

James seems to ignore your hint, his eyes narrowing. “Come on, Y/N. You can’t expect me to believe that you’re actually dating one of the best F1 drivers in the world. What’s really going on here?”

You feel a flash of anger at his dismissive tone. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, no offense,” James continues, oblivious to your growing irritation, “but last I knew, you couldn’t tell the difference between F1 and NASCAR. Now you’re supposedly dating a Ferrari driver? It doesn’t add up.”

You clench your fists, trying to keep your cool. “People change. They grow. They learn new things. Not that it’s any of your business.”

He scoffs. “Right. So I’m supposed to believe that in the few years since our ... since we last saw each other, you’ve not only become an F1 expert but also managed to snag one of the most eligible bachelors in the sport? Come on, Y/N. What’s the real story? Are you some kind of ... I don’t know, brand ambassador or something?”

Before you can respond, a warm hand settles on the small of your back. You look up to see Charles standing beside you, his expression a mix of concern and confusion.

“Everything okay here, mon amour?” He asks, his eyes flicking between you and James.

James’ jaw drops even further, if that’s possible. He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

You lean into Charles’ side, drawing strength from his presence. “Charles, this is James. My ex-fiancé. James, this is Charles. My boyfriend.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up in recognition, but he recovers quickly, extending a hand to James. “Nice to meet you,” he says politely, though there’s a hint of steel in his voice.

James just stares at the offered hand, then back at you, then at Charles again. “This ... this is a joke, right? Some kind of prank?”

Charles drops his hand, frowning. “I assure you, it’s not a joke. Y/N and I have been together for over two years now.”

James shakes his head vehemently. “No. No way. This doesn’t make any sense. Y/N, what are you playing at?”

You feel your patience snap. “I’m not playing at anything. Charles and I are together. We’re happy. I’m sorry if that’s difficult for you to comprehend, but it’s the truth.”

“But ... but how?” James sputters. “How did this even happen?”

Charles tightens his arm around you, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Well, if you must know, I found her wandering the streets in a wedding dress, crying her eyes out because her fiancé was a cheating bastard.”

James blanches, his face turning an interesting shade of purple. “That’s ... that’s not ... you can’t just ...”

“Can’t what?” You challenge, feeling emboldened by Charles’ support. “Can’t move on? Can’t find happiness with someone who actually respects me? Can’t build a life that doesn’t revolve around you?”

A small crowd has started to gather, attracted by the rising voices and the presence of Charles Leclerc. You can see people whispering, phones discreetly pointed in your direction.

James seems to notice the attention too, his eyes darting around nervously. “Look, Y/N, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but-”

“It’s not a game,” you interrupt, your voice firm. “This is my life. A life I’m very happy with, I might add. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Charles has a race to prepare for.”

You start to turn away, but James grabs your arm. “Wait, just ... just tell me the truth. Is this some kind of revenge? Did you set this all up to get back at me?”

Charles tenses beside you, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I suggest you remove your hand,” he says, his voice low and controlled.

James lets go as if burned, taking a step back. “I just ... I don’t understand. How could you … with him?”

You take a deep breath, deciding to end this once and for all. “James, listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once. What happened between us was years ago. I’ve moved on. I’ve built a life I love, with a man I love. Your inability to believe that says far more about you than it does about me.”

You turn to Charles, softening your voice. “Come on, love. You need to get back to the team.”

Charles nods, pressing a kiss to your temple before addressing James one last time. “It was ... interesting meeting you. Enjoy the race.”

As you walk away, leaving a stunned James in your wake, you can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Well, that was ... something.”

Charles chuckles, squeezing your hand. “You handled that beautifully, mon cœur. Though I have to admit, I was tempted to deck him when he grabbed you.”

You lean into him, smiling. “My hero. But I think leaving him standing there like a fish out of water was far more satisfying.”

As you approach the Ferrari garage, you pause, turning to face Charles. “Thank you,” you say softly. “For being there, for backing me up. For ... everything, really.”

Charles cups your face gently, his green eyes full of love. “Always. You know I’ve got your back, just like you’ve always had mine.”

You stretch up on your toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you, you know that?”

He grins, that boyish smile that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. “I love you too. Now, how about we go win a race, yeah?”

As you enter the garage hand in hand, the organized chaos of the team preparing for the race enveloping you, you can’t help but marvel at the twists and turns that led you here. From the lowest point of your life to the highest — all because a kind stranger couldn’t leave a crying bride on the street.

You squeeze Charles’ hand one more time before he heads off to his car. As you watch him go, you silently thank whatever twist of fate brought him into your life that night. The road hasn’t always been smooth, but you wouldn’t change a single moment of it.

After all, sometimes the best love stories start with a broken heart and end with a chequered flag.

[wileys-russo]

pretty little mornings II f.rolfö (18+)

part of the colourblind universe pretty little mornings II f.rolfö (18+)

your eyes fluttered awake as you felt a body settle down on top of you, warm and soft with a mess of blonde hair obstructing your vision, the smell of roses invading your senses from her shampoo. 

with a small chuckle your hand snuck its way up her shirt to rub her back, the other entangling itself in her golden locks, nails scratching softly against her scalp as you felt her weight bare even more into you as she settled with a content sigh and a lazy kiss to your shoulder blade.

"good morning solsken." you mumbled with an amused smile, closing your eyes again and feeling her exhale tiredly into your neck with only a small grunt sounding in response to your greeting.

the defender had stumbled through your front door not long before midnight last night, having been away in the states for barcelonas pre season tour for the week and insisting you wait for her at home rather than meet her at the airport given their late flight time.

knowing she was jet lagged you did your best to stay up with her, but fingers carding fondly through your hair as she rambled on about everything she'd been up to (that you already knew given whenever she wasn't busy she was on the phone to you) it didn't take long before you were out like a light and fridolina was carrying you to bed.

"and here i was thinking you were the early riser in this relationship min kärlek." you teased, feeling her fingers pinch your hip in a silent warning before she slowly lifted her head a little more and you cracked one eye open.

"this marriage." your wife corrected and you melted at the tired rasp to her voice, the girl poking your nose with a sleepy smile and flopping right back down on top of you making you let out a laugh.

after what felt like years being engaged, you and your long time lover had finally said i do and tied the knot during the off season.

you'd gotten married in sweden at the same little vineyard that the two of you had met at, ironically also at a wedding, surrounded by your closest friends and families.

and not long after you disappeared off the grid to bali for a two week honeymoon where not a single second seemed to pass that you and your wife couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

"mm now i get to tell people my wife is finally home." you hummed happily, wincing a little as her cold hands sought out the warmth of your bare sides.

"if i had to wake up alone in bed one more day i might have retired." fridolina grumbled, words muffled against the skin of your neck where her head was tucked away.

"baby you were gone for a week! we used to do months apart when you were first playing in germany." you laughed again, moving your hand from where it sat tracing circles up and down her back for all of a millisecond before you heard her huff indignantly and wiggle herself in a silent demand you continue.

"i was scratching my nose fånig." you chuckled, short nails again soothing up and down her bare back as the taller girl settled.

"well vacker you weren't mrs rolfö then, and i still used to miss you like crazy. i miss you when you're just in another room." your wife confessed and you melted significantly at the tired but soft admission, the blonde always at her most mushy at the start of the day.

"fridolina!" you whined as suddenly a finger invaded your nostril, craning your head back and smacking her hand away, spoke too soon.

"you are such a child sometimes." you huffed, pulling both your hands away from her body as she was quick to catch them in her own, wrapping them back around her as your eyes rolled.

"did you just roll your eyes at me?" of course she'd know without even having to be looking at you, it was as if she had a sixth sense when it came to you, especially when you weren't doing what you knew was expected of you.

"...no." you lied, smiling innocently as her head popped up, golden blonde hair falling around you like a curtain and water colour eyes bore down into your own, puffy from the lack of sleep but still narrowing.

"jag älskar dig." you puckered your lips expectantly, flashing the cutest look you could muster this early in the morning, watching as the older girl faltered for just a moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in her head about where she wanted to go with this next.

"don't do it again." with that she dropped back down on top of you, and foolishly you thought you'd gotten away with it.

but then you felt her shift a little, left arm sneaking up her jersey which covered your top half, and you smiled turning your head to kiss her.

but your lips never touched, a gasp instead leaving your mouth as her thumb and forefinger tweaked your nipple, large hand palming your breast as your head pushed back into the pillows.

you blinked and suddenly she was on top of you properly this time, strong toned legs caging your smaller body beneath hers as they squeezed your hips, her hair pushed to one side of her head as pearly white teeth grinned down at you knowingly.

you tried to speak but the words died in your mouth as her assault on your chest continued, the jersey quickly pushed up to pool in the column of your throat as you saw a flash of blonde hair and felt her tongue flatten against your sternum.

any attempt to protest was shut down in an instant at the intoxicating feeling of her tongue circling your nipple, sucking your breast into her hot mouth had your hips bucking up and a moan ripped from you instead.

one hand fisted the soft silk sheets of your shared bed, knuckles white and a guttural groan dropping from your lips, while the other entangled itself into her mane of golden blonde hair, the short sharp tug against her roots only spurring your wife on further.

"oh!" you managed out as her mouth remained switching between both of your breasts, hot and sensual as she sucked marks into your chest reveling in the fact that she would be the only one to see when they no doubt turned varying shades of red and purple.

you felt three long fingers drag slowly down your stomach, touch feather light but leaving goosebumps scattered across your skin in their wake.

your eyes fluttered closed when she reached her final destination, teasingly pressing against your covered sex, tracing circles atop your panties and you heard her groan feeling just how wet you were already.

it was almost embarrassing how desperate you were for her to touch you now she’d started, an entire week without her having been a cruel torture after you’d both just spent the last two weeks fucking like rabbits.

"more!" you just managed to demand quietly, eyes flying wide open as everything came grinding to an abrupt halt, every trace of her touch stilling bar from the feel of her thighs pressing against yours where she sat on top of you.

your wife never found you looked more gorgeous than when pink with a needy flush, squirming and writhing and making the most pretty little noises beneath her, ready and willing to do whatever she wanted.

"oh baby." the blonde chuckled cruely, mouth inches from your own as she leaned down, lips ghosting yours as her bright green eyes drunk you in, sharp as a hawk.

fridolina refused to remove the now soaked material of your panties, only tugging on the waistband a little to hoick them up as the way they rubbed made you whine.

it allowed her to stroke up and down the swollen lips of your pussy, but stopped you from actually feeling the pleasure you craved from the slender fingers of your blonde lover.

"i know i indulged you on our honeymoon älskling, but i thought i'd trained you to be patient above all else." the older girl tutted with a mocking pout, hand still continuing its torturous ministrations against your clothed clit.

"oh i missed waking up like this more than you know sötsaker. hearing your pretty little moans and whines, watching your body squirm and jolt at every little touch." sure enough your hips bucked as she slipped one single finger under your panties, pushing it in and pulling it out as you whined at the loss.

"mm i had to touch myself instead, but always thinking about you. about taking you apart piece by piece like a little puzzle, watching you wait oh so patiently for me to put you back together, to give you what you need. because who knows best what you need älskling?" you knew the question was rhetorical but she expected an answer anyway, lips curled into a cruel smirk you'd grown to be infatuated with.

"you. only you, always you." "exactly."

"did you touch yourself while i was gone? våga inte ljuga för mig." she warned sharply, and as always the way she switched so quickly from soft to stern had your head melting, and putting you right where she wanted you.

"no! jag lovar." you barely managed out, her lips attaching to your neck with a satisfied hum, immediately seeking out every little spot she knew drove you wild.

"oh such a good girl. min duktiga flicka." your cheeks somehow grew even redder at the praise, breathless and scrambling to cling onto anything as your wife nipped at your neck, skilful fingers still rubbing circles over your panties which were practically ruined with your need for her.

foolishly again you thought with the promise that you’d not touched yourself in over a week that she might properly fuck you now, giving you the release that your body was begging her for without you even needing to open your mouth.

this thought was helped by the fact you knew your wife had been waiting to, proven by the countless detailed and downright pornagraphic texts she’d send near daily while away, about where her filthy mind often wandered to when not occupied with football.

but no, again, you were dumb to think you’d get off that easily with how much pleasure she gave herself in making you wait.

after all your wife adored nothing more than the control she had over you, and your orgasms. seeing just how far you’d let her bend you without breaking, touching you and toying with your body like she owned it, with false pouts and insincere coo’s as you’d call out her name dripping with need.

and evilly you knew she got the most pleasure from prolonging your eventual release.

making you hold eye contact with her as she ruined you, one little glance away all it would take for her hand to wrap around your throat and have you seeing stars.

despite knowing the answer until fridolina was ready would be no you’d beg for it anyway, your wife drunk with power that the only person who could give you what you needed was her, and she was in full control of when and how and if that happened.

you withheld the urge to scream as once more her touch disappeared all together, whatever discontent noise you did make swallowed by her lips engulfing yours.

her hands then fell to your cheeks, deepening the kiss as her tongue returned home shoving its way into your mouth, tracing ever little bump and dip as if mapping it out in her own head.

you exhaled shakily as her teeth clamped down on your bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth and pulling back causing it to stretch and snap back toward you with a pop.

“don’t forget to breathe sötnos.” her tone was teasing and light as her lust filled eyes raked over you, lips curling into a smile of utter satisfaction at the fresh love bites and bruises littering your tanned skin.

“good girl.” the blonde praised as you took a deep breath, near floating as her thumbs stroked the curve of your jaw and a few much sweeter kisses were dusted along your now swollen and plump lips.

“would you like a coffee?” and there it was, the dismissal of your current state as if you weren’t laying beneath her bright red, clammy and panting, body burning with a desire for a release that felt as if it may never come.

all you could manage was a nod but the slight raise of her eyebrows was all the reminder you needed that she expected verbal responses, forever warning you to use your words especially when she was midway through stealing the very breath from your lungs.

“yes please.” you sighed as she nodded with a much softer smile, thumb tugging down your bottom lip and eyes glimmering at the way they parted for her, expecting her fingers to slip past them and into your mouth.

but to your surprise her digits never came, instead you watched as she sucked the remenets of you off of her own fingers, even daring to give you a wink at the way your chest deflated beneath her.

“du ser så vacker ut på morgonen.” the blonde smiled, a more tender look across her face as she shuffled off of you, allowing you to pull yourself into a slightly more seated position with a wince, the uncomfortable but undeniable wetness coating your panties dripping down your inner thigh.

something which of course did not go unnoticed by your eagle eyed lover. “stackaren. let me take care of that for you.” she cooed, leaning down to kiss you and you felt her smile against her lips as her hand trailed downward again, hips bucking but this time her touch was gone as quick as it came.

your soaked thong hanging off of her pointer finger she was up and off of you in a blink, feet hitting the floorboards she was half naked and stretching out with a grunt as you heard her back click.

“you should take a shower älska, maybe a cold one?” she grinned wickedly and it took all of the self control she’d drilled into you over the years not to roll your eyes at the cockiness which radiated off of her at your dishevelled and dissatisfied state.

“i will go make breakfast and coffee, but neither will taste even half as sweet as you min ängel. now go clean yourself up, snälla.” and with your jaw hanging open and a tender kiss to your forehead she was gone, footsteps thumping down the landing.

you groaned and flopped back down in bed, tugging down her jersey which was still sitting against your neck with a huff.

when you were wed and both agreed until death do you part, you should have known that each day your wife would test just how much she could be the eventual death of you.

[lodgersims]

As a Sims 2 player one of the most eerie things about playing the original game isn't necessarily the creepy/more liminal aesthetic or the repetitively endless gameplay, but the fact that almost all the pre-made Sims from the original game are inexorably doomed by the narrative.

There's something odd about Pleasantview specifically, where the majority of the returning Sim families live (save for Tara Kat, who seems... relatively fine). Like, the concept of the game is that twenty-five years have passed, and all of the returning characters are pre-baked into character arcs that communicate an unavoidable truth: You, the player, failed.

Bella Goth will disappear. Her brother (though in the original Sims we aren't aware that Michael Bachelor is her brother) will die, possibly murdered. Mortimer will be lost and alone. Cassandra will be stuck in an unloving engagement. The Newbie's daughter will be impoverished, a single mother whose husband died young, with two boys and another on the way. Daniel Pleasant will grow up to be a cheater. Jennifer Pleasant will never be an athlete like she wanted (her brother will). And though poor Johnny Burb never mentions Tucker anymore, you know that old dog died years ago. The Roomies, the Mashugas, the Hicks, the Charmings - all leave town... or worse, die out.

I think about Jeff Pleasant's bio in the first game: "Jeff and his family are new to the neighborhood. Can you help Jeff provide for his family and fulfill his lifelong goal of being the first man to walk on Mars?" And how it contrasts to Daniel's in the second: "Since his father Jeff died without achieving his dream of going to Mars, Daniel has felt an overwhelming guilt."

And sure, you can save the families of Pleasantview. You can choose for Mary-Sue to not go to work that day, or maybe Daniel never pursues Kaylynn Langerak again. You can give Cassandra a happy marriage, tame Don Lothario's womanizer ways. You can financially save Brandi Broke. You can get John Burb another dog. You can get Jennifer the career she always wanted. You can defy the scripted in-game prompts and say "No. I don't want to play like this." You can break the cycle, every time you play.

And yet, at the end of the day, no matter what you do... uninstalling the game and reinstalling it, maybe just deleting that Neighborhood folder, they are reset back to exactly where they were again. They're doomed to repeat it forever.

The game makes it clear that there are some things you aren't meant to change. A genie lamp or a Resurrect-O-Nomitron can bring back sims like Michael Bachelor, but you will pay for it in your neighborhood deteriorating to corruption. And no matter what you do, no force in the universe can bring Bella Goth back. The one in Strangetown isn't even really her, after all. And maybe she isn't. They say they deleted her in development, replaced her with a clone. Maybe that's what Bella Goth in Strangetown is. A clone. Maybe we were wrong, after all. Maybe she was never abducted by aliens. Maybe Don Lothario killed her. Maybe Dina Caliente killed her. Maybe Mortimer did. But you can't bring her back, no matter what you do. Recreate the original Bella, pixel by pixel, extract her data, make your zombie Bella. Build your own monster. Create a sim. But she will never recognize her family. Never see them as her own.

And she was never meant to.

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.75)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Getting you home and into the nest proves to be a bit more of a challenge.

Tags: forced caretaking, feral omega's, m/c acts a little violent at the beginning, biting, blood, brief injury, kinda inspection kink if you squint, pre-heat, nudity, cramps, scenting, nesting, mindless fluff, hurt/comfort, omega/omega, possessive behavior, omegaspace, yoongi has slight self-esteem issues, manhandling,

W/c: 8.6k+

A/n: i feel guilty because i had to snip this chapter in half because there was simply too much stuff going on in my life at the moment. on the bright side i will try to get the second part out in one week, and i will also be very drunk at a engagement party when this is posted <3 gotta love that for me. in all honesty although it says 5pm...it will probably be posted a little earlier in the day so...be aware!

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

"I don't think her fingers are broken, fuck- do you think Jin would let me take her to the hospital?"

"You just got home Joonie-" Tae whines while Jimin shakes his head, handing over the gauze for Namjoon to wrap it.

"I know but-"

Instead of wiggling your fingers, you flick water in Namjoon's direction. It hits his face with an audible plop. The pack alpha flinches.

The rest of them just stare at you.

Namjoon wipes the water off of his face, slow and intentionally with every movement of his body. No one breathes and no one moves. You sense Namjoon's composure is about to slip. Good- you really want it too.

"See! Pups fine!” You flick water at Namjoon again. Grinning, dopy and so high on heat hormones that you think it is funny how his jaw rolls. Your hand isn't broken even if your knuckles are a little scraped up. Really- you'll be fine. They don't need to act like you're dying.

You try to do it again but Jimin grabs both of your wrists, holding you still. "That is the opposite of helpful." Tae snaps.

"Don't yell at me. I'm too tiny." You say, your voice that. Small.

Namjoon whips his hands on a kitchen cloth slowly. Staring you down without saying anything.

Yoongi runs his teeth over the back of your throat, hard enough that you feel it. He's not sure why you need the release of violence before your heat begins, but you do. Whatever instinct is currently making you act like a brat needs to come out one way or another.

Yoongi would rather it be now than when you're actually in heat.

Jimin and Yoongi keep you in one place as you try to lunge for Namjoon. You barely even jerk in their firm hold. Strong as they are. every one of them has more than half a foot on you, you'd never stand a chance really. Jimin holds you effortlessly- without even breaking a sweat. muscles and veins in his arms hardly flexing.

You want to bite him, teeth and gums aching for it. To feel the give of your alpha's under your teeth, under your claws. To bite and nip and see what he's made of.

It's like Namjoon can see the ache rocking through you, the violence of it in the honey tremble of your body. He cups your face so tenderly, and you almost want to hiss at him. Lip lifting in a soundless snarl. His voice is a gentle hush, a tone you are intimately familiar with.

it's the same tone of voice that has preceded every punishment and scolding you've ever received from the pack alpha. Every time he's ever coaxed you to take his knot (icky) or an orgasm (less icky). As he drags you close and speaks to you. Soft but firm. Gentle but unyielding.

"You are allowed to be needy, you are allowed to be small. You are allowed to need everything and anything and I will personally make sure that each one of those needs are fulfilled."

You snap your teeth at him, trying to bite his hand. He only just gets away. Your teeth brushing his knuckles playfully. You giggle, behind you, Yoongi snorts.

Instantly the pack hold your face, your jaw, not jimin but your mate and tae. Holding your mouth open. Fingers digging into your lower lip. Making your lips push out. You push at them but they hold you still. saliva pooling around a whine as you try to gnash your teeth again but are unsuccessful.

"Cute drooly puppy, so messy. what are we to do with you?" Tae's voice is a lethal purr.

You like it. You like feeling your alpha's strength, your mate's strength. Where they begin and you end. You want to test it want to make sure they can protect you.

For what? You can't say. You think it might have something to do with the terrible sensitivity between your thighs, the bleeding hot need slowly gripping you, a distant storm rumbling. But you're not sure.

"You need to make sure we're capable of protecting you through your heat? is that it pup?"

You whine, needy around Namjoon's fingers.

Tae keeps your mouth open and Namjoon taps his finger against your tongue, your lips, your teeth. Does he like how sharp they are? They feel awfully sharp in your mouth. Good omega, see? You want to tell him. Strong like you. Not a pup.

You don't whine and recoil the way an alpha would at being poked and prodded at. You fight one moment then go pliant the next. Letting him look, letting him touch and pinch your tongue between his fingers, loling it out and making it cute. Tears building at the corner of your eyes by how frustrated you feel, how much you want.

Tae grips your jaw, turning you this way and that, jimin's claws tangle with yours. yoongi digs his teeth into your scent gland, going sweeter and sweeter and sweeter with every moment.

Tae coo's and you hiss at her- or try too. Namjoon's finger pressing against your tongue stops you from doing anything but whine. Saliva pooling to the point where it almost drips, a little gross, but Namjoon's smile is darker, wickeder.

Namjoon strokes your tongue once, twice, and then a third time. Near your gag reflex but just barely. If you want to act like a disobedient pup, he's going to make you work for it.

You are the lowest ranking packmate, you can't expect your anger to be anything remarkable. they all coo at you- at your innocent imitation of your alpha's behavior.

Jimin smiles. agreeing, flashing his teeth at you that actually are sharp- actually could bite. you like them, like him. jimin holds you so well- so firmly you feel it in the small bones of your wrists. any other time you'd say it was uncomfortable, but it makes you leak slick, just a little. you know they can smell it.

"Cute little omega, acting like an alpha." Namjoon's thigh is between your legs, and you try and grind down on it. He stops you, holding your hips firm. You can't move more than a millimeter without one of them stopping you.

"No, none of that pup. If you want it you'll ask nicely, and you'll ask Jinnie first. I know you can be good."

But you don't want to be good, you want to fight.

~-~

Coming Saturday September 28th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments below)

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

(H:SR) Bronya, Seele, Natasha, Himeko, and Firefly slow dancing with their S/O

No one requested this, listening to a Space Marine and Battle Droid sing Careless Whisper got me in the mood.

Bronya has had to attend a few balls here and there throughout her life, though given the nature of the Eternal Freeze, they were few and far between.

She's learned the proper etiquette on how to dance and respond to the others who were high up in command, but never had the chance to dance with someone she loved.

That changed when S/O offered to take her hand, completely alone in her room with a phonograph playing a romantic record, of course recommended to her by Serval.

(S/O) "May I have this dance, Lady Bronya?"

Feeling her ears heat up at S/O's teasing, Bronya smiled and gently put her hand into theirs.

(Bronya) "Shall I take the lead, S/O?"

With her heart quickening in pace, dancing with S/O threatened to make her forget everything she learned in an instant.

Taking a deep breath, Bronya guides S/O along as they sway along to the music gracefully.

Well, at least she does.

S/O is stumbling here and there, making Bronya giggle in between their missteps.

(S/O) "H-Hey, cut me some slack! I haven't done this before!"

(Bronya) "But weren't you the one who asked?-"

Focusing away from S/O's pouting, Bronya puts her chin on their shoulder, simply enjoying the quiet moment with them.

With the two of them stepping to the beat of the song as it continued playing into the night.

Seele sighs when S/O offers their hand to her after hearing what was playing on the nearby phonograph.

(Seele) "Do I look like the type of girl that dances?"

(S/O) "Come on, pleaaaase?~"

Mumbling something to herself, Seele rolls her eyes before getting up from her seat.

Only really going along with this because there was no one else in the room.

And also because she loved them but she'll tear you in half before she says that out loud.

As expected, both her and S/O completely stumble the entire way, stepping on each other's toes more than a few times.

But her breath hitched when S/O's arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer to an embrace.

(S/O) "Your heart is beating really fast-"

(Seele) "J-Just shut it and keep dancing will you?"

Seele's head rested underneath their chin, she didn't even need to see their face to know S/O was smiling.

Which tempted Seele to kick them in the shin.

Natasha lets out a hearty laugh when S/O yanks her away from the table to engage in a dance, her coat swishing to the sides as she stepped along.

She admittedly doesn't have much experience with dancing due to being a Doctor, but it's something she won't mind to learn with S/O.

Though she gets the idea the moment she hears how slow the song is, enjoying the intimacy more than the feeling of actually dancing.

It isn't long before she relaxes entirely into S/O's hold, her low chuckle reverberating through their body as they embraced.

(S/O) "Something funny, Nat?"

(Natasha) "Hm...no, just enjoying the dance is all.~"

(S/O) "Have you done this before?"

(Natasha) "No. Trying to patch up wounds doesn't leave a lot of time to include ballroom dancing into my routine."

(S/O) "I'm truly shocked!-"

Both of them laugh again before Natasha goes completely silent and hugs S/O, the two of them standing still and not saying another word.

When it's just Himeko and S/O in the main car alone, she puts a slow song on the player before extending her hand towards S/O.

(Himeko) "Will you take this dance with me underneath the stars?"

S/O grabs her without hesitation, both of them spinning into place but not losing their footing once.

(S/O) "Of course, dear."

Himeko knows how to dance, though not too formally. It's just more of a thing she picked up along her journeys aboard the Astral Express.

Not that S/O would ever know, with how graceful she is with every step, sometimes letting S/O take the lead as well.

It was playful, intimate, and classy all at the same time, and Himeko would not have it any other way.

(Himeko) "Hm, you've gotten better, S/O!"

(S/O) "Heh, only to impress you if I'm being honest!"

(Himeko) "Then I say mission accomplished!~-"

(Caelus) "I feel like we should move to another car-"

(March 7th) "Shush, they're having a moment!"

Firefly is blushing madly the entire time, but she immediately accepts S/O's offer to dance.

Given the condition of her body, S/O is very gentle with her, both of them holding each other as they slowly stepped in beat to the song.

Firefly's smile is ear to ear while she listens to their heartbeat, the both of them less dancing to the music, and moreso enjoying each other's company.

She hums in content feeling S/O's hand brush against the back of her hair as they continued moving from spot to spot at their own pace.

(Firefly) "I wish this moment could last forever..."

(S/O) "...Me too."

S/O tightens their hold on Firefly, making both of them chuckle quietly, both out of shyness and the affection they felt at this instant.

(Firefly) "...I love you, S/O."

(S/O) "I love you too."

Stopping in their dance, Firefly gave a quick peck to their lips before leaning back and smiling, stepping in beat properly now, with S/O following her lead.

...

...

...

(S/O) "...Do you think you could dance in your armor?"

Firefly looked up from her phone and raised a single eyebrow, in a rare expression that made S/O's lips form into a grin.

(Firefly) "I...I think I could, but why do you want to see that?"

(S/O) "It'd be kind of interesting!...I think!"

(Firefly) "What could even work? I don't want to accidentally hurt you if you wanted to dance with me."

(S/O) "Wasn't Silver Wolf mentioning something about some old game called...Dance Dance...something or other?"

(Firefly) "W-Well...I'm willing to try anything once!"

Firefly would end up killing it on a dancing rig, wiping the floor with S/O as they tried to outspeed her.

[dollfacefantasy]

I... Absolutely adorable Scott Summers with my entire heart. I need to ask you since I'm a fan of your other work. How do you think he'd deal with a bratty reader/team member?

mdni (18+); cw: smut, brat taming, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation

hmmmm... so i think when you start dating scott, the first time you get bratty he's confused. like he does not understand that you're trying to provoke a reaction out of him and get freaky. so instead he tries being amicable and working towards a solution.

but you don't seem to want it. there's only so much he can take. after a few too many rolled eyes and stamped feet, he snaps. he grabs one of the arms crossed over your chest, making you stand normally before looking at you and simply saying "enough."

it's just one word, but he says it in the same tone he uses when he gets frustrated on missions. he speaks in a way that the intensity of his gaze stings you from behind the red lenses of his sunglasses.

after that, your demeanor shifts. no longer are you prodding at him. rather, you're pouty. and that's when he starts to understand. he realizes you're not upset about whatever you got snippy about. you're just frustrated in general and want to be put in your place.

and from then on, scott really steps into the role of taming you.

when you brat out, he doesn't play around and engage with you. while i think someone like logan would be more direct with punishments, scott can play the long game. he has the patience, and he uses it.

instead of giving you what you want, and carting you off to your room, scott will just ignore you. he'll tell you that the two of you can discuss how you're feeling when you can do so like a mature adult. at first that only gets you more upset, but before long, your lip is wobbling and your eyes are glossy. you're coming to him, holding his arm and nuzzling his bicep.

"scott, i'm sorry," you whimper as the two of you walk back to your room.

he glances down at your pleading eyes and tries not to smirk. you acted so tough, but you're so easy to break down.

"are you now?" he asks monotonously.

you nod quickly, eager to prove to him that you can behave. the two of you go into your shared room where he takes a seat on the bed and you stand in front of him.

"have anything to say for yourself then?" he asks.

"i'm really sorry, sir," you say, throwing on the title for some extra points. you step closer to stop between his thighs. "'m sorry for giving attitude and calling you a dick."

he chuckles and tilts your chin up. "yeah. that wasn't very nice was it, baby?" he teases.

you shake your head, eyes still cast down.

"you're lucky i can be so forgiving then, aren't you?" he says.

and again, you nod.

once you've acquiesced and admitted your wrongdoings, that's when he moves into the part of the punishment you craved all along. it's the part where he spreads you out on the bed and takes residence between your thighs, overstimulating you to tears with his fingers, tongue, or cock. whatever he feels like.

your legs wrap around his head while your back arches off the mattress. you part your lips in a silent scream as your third release tears through you. your hips buck wildly, but he does his best to hold them in place. he keeps you nice and steady because through all of this, he never stops sucking on your poor, puffy little clit.

you whine and squirm, starting to push at his head to find some reprieve, but he won't let up. tears roll down your temples while spit collects around wet sobs.

"scott..." you choke out as your legs quake violently, "can't... can't do it... too much."

"it's not too much," he chides once he pulls himself off your cunt. he licks a broad stripe over the sticky expanse before pumping his fingers into your dripping entrance.

more tears pour from your eyes as another cry erupts from your mouth. you nod wildly. "yes it is. it's- it's- oh my fucking god," you sob.

"it's what? it's what you wanted?" he taunts, "you were begging for attention so badly earlier. i thought you'd enjoy yourself."

you part your lips to respond, but only a squeak comes out. your hips roll as he curls his fingers with in and brings you to a fourth peak.

your words become babbled and drool leaks from your mouth in the haze. he grins at your fucked out state and keeps sliding his fingers back and forth.

"that's right. you don't need words, sweetheart. you never use them anyways. you always jump right ahead to having an attitude," he mocks.

all you can mumble in response is his name on repeat. your eyes screw shut. a few seconds later, you finally get a small break. it only last a few seconds though because you come to realize the brief pause in his actions was only so he could position himself with his cock at your entrance.

"it's ok though. we'll get all those big feelings worked out so you can go back to being a good girl for me again," he says.

it's the last thing you hear before he slides in and everything in your world explodes into white hot pleasure.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What's your opinion on Dadmare aus?

I don’t think much about Dadmare aus, or not very often. I don’t have anything against them and whenever I come across content i usually think it’s cute and like the post before moving on, but i don’t seek it out and hardly engage in it.

This is mostly because i haven’t found an interpretation of dadmare aus ive been able to get invested in, most interpretations ive come across just aren’t for me.

My biggest “issues” (but not really) with most interpretations is that nightmare is almost always portrayed as a perfect dad who can do no wrong, all the other sanses are infantilized to hell and back, and as @/signanothername said in their own post, none of the characters feel like their own people.

Their relationships to eachother and Nightmare all feel very one note and cut from the same mold most of the time. All the same reactions, all completely trust Nightmare and kiss the ground he walks on.

I don’t mind found family, but I don’t like it when the found family is shoved into little boxes and cannot differ from them.

Nightmare is 500+ years old, did not grow up with any significant parent figure in his life despite winging it on taking care of Dream, and spent his 6 early years of life being routinely abused by all the adults around him. And then he was horribly transformed and corrupted.

Why would he take on a parental role again when the last time he tried something like that he was also a child, he had no other choice, and everything went to shit despite it? Wouldn’t he also struggle like any actual parent would.

If he spent 500+ years isolated and only interacting with others when forced to, or needing something from them like negativity, wouldn’t that life experience translate into trying to care for this group of traumatized men.

And they are men. They aren’t boys. They’re adults. Unless they’re supposed to be actual children when they meet Nightmare, or one or all of them are age regressed, then I don’t see the point in infantilizing them or treating them as if they’re children. None of these guys are looking for a father figure.

Adults can be found family, there doesn’t need to be any dad or child or siblings boxes to me.

Especially not when Horror already has a brother, Killer’s concept of family dynamics is also very likey screwed to hell and back (just look at what he thinks about any relationship, there’s no such thing as “equals” in his eyes, killer in dadmare dynamics would probably just view it as another role and game he has to play and “dadmare” is his new Chara), Nightmare killed his mother and his currently trying to kill his brother after trapping him in stone for years.

Dust killed his brother and is constantly haunted by his hallucination, Cross destroyed his entire AU and also came from an entirely different AU with a completely different life from the others. (Alphys being his sister, for example. Horror having lobotomized his Alphys and Killer having likely killed and tortured his many times and Dust having murdered his.)

So tldr: I don’t mind dadmare, but it personally isn’t for me. I like found family bad sanses, but not if there’s roles assigned and not if it’s not earned.

I don’t like Nightmare being the perfect father somehow and the sanses being treated like children even though they’re 30-40+ adults and aren’t looking for a father figure.

I prefer dysfunctional found family dynamics with the bad sanses.

Also that some people aren’t likely to be overly emotionally involved or invested in these dynamics for a very long time if at all, even if he plays along as if its all a game or some elaborate test being played on him— either because he thinks he has to, or because it’s something new and he’s curious. He may even get bored of the dynamics eventually, and start asking Nightmare when it’s game over.

Which could lead to something very interesting if he realizes it was never supposed to be a game or a test.

[novaursa]

hey, hope you're doing well, i saw the request are open, and i just have to use my chance to send in an ask. i was thinking about aemond targaryen and a reader from a different house, she's sticking up for him and defending him. after that he trusts her, wants to get to know her and falls for her in the process. maybe you like the idea and consider it.

thank you for all your great stories, really love them. have a great rest of the week.

Quiet Hearts

- Summary: When you stand up for him against his brother and nephews, Aemond sees you in the new light. 

- Paring: reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: The reader is one of Helaena's ladies in waiting.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The hall is alive with chatter and laughter as you stand near Princess Helaena, who is engrossed in observing a beetle crawling along her palm. The other ladies are engaged in their own conversations, but your attention is drawn elsewhere. Across the yard, you see them—Prince Aegon, Jacaerys, and Lucerys—gathered around Prince Aemond, taunting him as they often do.

“Still no dragon, Aemond?” Aegon’s voice carries easily across the courtyard, dripping with mockery. “Perhaps we should find you a pig again.”

The laughter of the boys grates against your nerves, and you notice the way Aemond’s shoulders tense, his fists clenching at his sides. His face is a mask of stoic restraint, but you’ve seen that look before—an attempt to hide the hurt beneath.

Jace smirks, his tone mocking. “Maybe if you asked nicely, one of us would let you ride our dragon for a bit. Just so you know what it feels like.”

Lucerys giggles, nudging Jace with a grin. “Aegon’s right. You should get used to something with four legs and a saddle.”

A flush of anger warms your cheeks as you listen to their cruel jests. You glance at Helaena, who is lost in her own world, seemingly oblivious to the scene unfolding nearby. But you can’t just stand by and watch this happen again.

Without a second thought, you step forward, your voice ringing out clearly in the quiet courtyard. “That’s enough!”

The boys turn, surprise flaring in their eyes as you approach. You can feel the eyes of the other ladies-in-waiting on you, but you push aside the discomfort.

“Aegon, Jace, Luke,” you say sharply, your gaze moving between them. “You should be ashamed of yourselves. Is this how you show your strength? By belittling your own blood?”

Aegon’s smirk falters, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Oh, and what’s this? A lady defending a dragonless prince?”

“More than you’ve ever done,” you retort, not breaking eye contact. “Aemond may not have a dragon, but he has more honor and courage than any of you do right now.”

Jace and Luke exchange uncertain glances, but it’s Aegon who scoffs. “Honor? Courage? You’re speaking of things you know nothing about, Y/N.”

You hold his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. “And you, Prince Aegon, are speaking like a boy, not a man. If this is how you intend to do your duty, by mocking those you see as weaker, then I pity the realm.”

A stunned silence follows your words, broken only by the rustle of Helaena’s skirts as she looks up, blinking at you with wide, curious eyes. Aegon opens his mouth to retort, but something in your expression makes him pause. He turns away with a dismissive wave, muttering something under his breath before stalking off. Jace and Luke, looking thoroughly chastised, follow after him.

You turn back to Aemond, who is watching you with a strange expression. His eyes, usually guarded and cold, hold a flicker of something you can’t quite place—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe something more profound.

“I… thank you, Lady Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice steady but soft. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You offer him a small smile, shrugging lightly. “Someone needed to. They were out of line.”

Aemond nods, his gaze lingering on your face as if seeing you for the first time. There’s a subtle shift in his posture, a gentling of his demeanor that you’ve never witnessed before. “You are braver than most men in this court,” he murmurs. “And kinder.”

The compliment, simple as it is, warms you more than it should. You glance away, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “I just don’t like bullies, is all.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and surprisingly pleasant. “Neither do I.”

For a moment, the world around you fades, the bustling court and the murmurs of the other ladies disappearing into the background. You meet his gaze again, and there’s something different in his eyes—something that wasn’t there before.

Admiration.

You don’t know what to say, but it doesn’t matter, because Aemond gives you a small, almost shy smile before he inclines his head. “I’m in your debt, my lady.”

You shake your head, waving a hand dismissively. “You owe me nothing, my prince. Just… perhaps, be kinder to yourself.”

He blinks at that, surprise flickering across his features. “Kinder?”

You nod. “You don’t need a dragon to be worthy. You already are.”

His eyes search yours, as if looking for some hidden meaning in your words. Then, slowly, he nods, a faint, thoughtful smile playing on his lips.

“Perhaps,” he says softly. “I will try.”

As he turns and walks away, you feel a strange flutter in your chest, a sensation that lingers long after he’s gone. You glance back at Helaena, who is watching you with a knowing look, her lips curled in a faint, enigmatic smile.

“Something has changed,” she says in her soft, lilting voice.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling your heart skip a beat. “What do you mean?”

Helaena’s smile widens just a touch, her eyes drifting to where Aemond has disappeared. “You’ll see.”

You don’t know what to make of her words, but you can’t shake the feeling that she’s right. Something has changed, and as you turn back to where Aemond had been standing, you can’t help but wonder what this means for the both of you.

Most of the court has retired for the night, leaving the castle unusually silent. You relish the solitude, savoring the stillness that contrasts so sharply with the usual bustle of the day.

You find yourself in the library, drawn to its peaceful atmosphere and the rows upon rows of books, each holding a world of its own. You run your fingers along the spines of the volumes, considering which one to choose, when a voice behind you breaks the quiet.

“Lady Y/N.”

You turn, startled, to find Prince Aemond standing a few paces away. His presence is almost ethereal in the dim light, his silver hair catching the glow of the torches, and his violet eyes trained intently on you. Your heart skips a beat, and you offer him a small, surprised smile.

“Prince Aemond,” you greet, inclining your head slightly. “I didn’t realize anyone else was still awake.”

He steps closer, his movements measured and deliberate. “I often find the night preferable to the day. It’s quieter… more reflective.”

You nod, feeling a strange tension in the air. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s unfamiliar—charged, almost expectant. “I suppose we share that preference, then.”

His lips quirk into a small smile, something warm and genuine that you’re not used to seeing from him. “Indeed, we do.”

Silence falls between you, but it’s not awkward. Rather, it feels like the beginning of something, a moment suspended in time. You clear your throat, glancing at the books lining the shelves. “Did you come for a particular book, my prince?”

Aemond shakes his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “No. I came to find you.”

The words hang in the air, and you blink, taken aback. “Me?”

He nods, taking another step closer. “Yes. I wanted to speak with you… if you have the time.”

There’s a vulnerability in his expression, a hesitance that you’ve never seen before. It’s disarming, making him seem less like the sharp, intimidating prince you’ve come to know and more like the boy you saw enduring the jests of others, alone and wounded.

���Of course,” you say softly, curiosity piqued. “What is it you wish to speak about?”

He hesitates, as if searching for the right words. “I wanted to… thank you. For what you did that day. Standing up for me. Not many would dare to challenge my brother or the others, but you did.”

You smile, a gentle, reassuring expression. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Aemond. I did what anyone with a heart would have done.”

He shakes his head, a small, almost bitter laugh escaping him. “You give them too much credit. Most would have turned a blind eye, afraid to get involved.”

You can’t argue with that, and so you simply nod. “Perhaps. But I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. It was wrong, the way they treated you.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, the harsh lines of his face easing as he studies you. “You’re… different, Lady Y/N.”

The intensity of his words sends a shiver down your spine. You take a small, steadying breath, unsure of what to say. “Different how?”

He moves closer, so close that you can feel the warmth of his presence, the scent of leather and books lingering around him. His voice is low, almost intimate as he speaks. “You see me. Not the way they do, not the way most people do. You see me—not just the prince without a dragon, not just as the second son of the realm.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his tone, the raw honesty that he’s never shown before. “I do see you, Aemond,” you murmur. “And you are so much more than what they say. You are strong, intelligent, capable… worthy.”

His breath catches, and for a moment, he looks as though he doesn’t know how to respond. Then, slowly, his hand rises, hovering near yours, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his skin.

“You don’t know what that means to me,” he whispers, his eyes searching yours as if trying to understand something he can’t quite grasp. “To be seen like that.”

You swallow, your heart pounding so hard you’re sure he can hear it. “I’m glad it means something. You deserve to be seen, Aemond.”

His gaze drops to where your hands are nearly touching, then back up to your face. “I’ve been thinking of you,” he admits softly, the confession tumbling out as if he can’t hold it back any longer. “Ever since that day. I can’t seem to stop.”

Your breath hitches, your own emotions swirling in a confusing, exhilarating storm. “Aemond, I—”

He shakes his head slightly, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just… I wanted you to know.”

His finger, long and gentle, finally brush against yours, a tentative, questioning touch. You don’t pull away. Instead, you let your hand rest against his, feeling the warmth of his skin, the solidity of his presence.

“I’m glad you told me,” you say quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

His eyes searches yours, and there’s a depth of feeling in that gaze that takes your breath away. He looks at you as if you’re something precious, something he’s afraid to lose.

“Would you… would you walk with me, Y/N?” he asks, his voice soft and tentative, as if he’s offering you something fragile.

You nod, unable to find your voice for a moment. “I’d like that.”

Aemond’s smile, small and tentative, transforms his face, and as he turns, offering you his arm, you take it without hesitation. Together, you walk through the quiet, torch-lit corridors, the world around you fading into the background as you talk softly, sharing thoughts and dreams and quiet laughter.

And for the first time in a long while, you feel something warm and hopeful bloom in your chest, something that tells you this is only the beginning of whatever is to come between you and the prince who, against all odds, has found his way into your heart.

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

Can I request twin reader with Orion Pax? Reader is a bit more calm-headed of the two but covers and joins Orion in his shenanigans. Reader supports him through and through, and can you add a bit angst where reader sees and feels Orion's sparks snuffed out, but rejoyces when he comes back as Optimus?

More than meets the eye

Simple, But works very well. :D Warning: spoilers

Y/n was a miner just like Orion Pax and his friend D-16, Y/n was also Orion's twin.

Now while Orion was ambitious and kind of outrageous with his ideas, you were the calm one, always level-headed and tried to resolve issues between the two diplomatically.

"Hey Darkwing!!" He called out after a job everyone did got Elita-1 demoted to waste management.

"Orion, no please don't" You tried to get him to turn around.

All you could do was watch as he was about to be punched by Darkwing, before soon being punched by D-16.

While you did support him through and through, The race was the sort of final straw.

"So... How long do you think we'll be here ??" He tried to lighten you up.

"I'm not talking to you............ You know what we are so screwed"

"I thought you weren't talking to me" He smirked, and just like that you were family again.

The journey You, Orion, D, and now Bee and Elita was nothing more than amazing... you got to see the surface !!!

You all then met Alpha Trion who told you the dark truth behind sentinel prime, Who killed all the primes to gain control of Cybertron. Not only that, he was working with your enemies by giving them the energon that you mined !!

With the evidence at hand, Trion then granted you the cogs to help you transform. On the run, you had to learn on the fly, but once you got it. It was so much fun !!

But along the way... you and Orion noticed a change in demeanour in D-16.

"Orion, I'm really worried about D..."

"I know y/n, me too, But we have a job to do"

The fight turned even nastier when D managed to gather a cult following with him to take down sentinel prime, you watched in horror as Orion sacrificed himself to make him stop.

"D... no..." He said weakly, hanging on for dear life.

"I'm done saving you" You watched as he dropped Orion into the planet's core.

"NO !!! ORION !!!" You called out as you rushed over, you then felt a barrel press against the back of your head. You engaged in a fight with D, now dubbing himself Megatron after Megatronus Prime.

But then, you looked back as you saw something spew out from the bottom of the core and then land. It was Orion !! He was given the matrix of leadership... He was now Optimus Prime!!

Once Megatron was banished from Cybertron, you rushed over to make sure your twin was ok.

"I'm ok y/n, I'm ok"

"I know, just making sure" You chuckled in relief and Optimus brought you close, the loving familial embrace.

Cybertron had a long way to go... But you were ready to tackle it with your Prime.

[iimplicitt]

I WAS ALL OVER HER PT.2 — O.P.

pairings: oscar piastri x reader (romantic/platonic) | lando norris x reader (romantic)

part two of three, link to part one here

summary: lando and y/n relationship is on the rocks. y/n either makes the worst or best decision of her life. oscar is losing it and has a secret habit of street racing? (listen to empathy while he races).

warnings: pining, missed opportunities, cheating (mentioned), cheating towards the end, 18+ smut, jealous!oscar, toxic!lando, mirror sex, fingering + oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex sorta (stay safe), technically a HEA for oscar x yn? bumpy road to get there, though.

word count: 4.9k

dedicated to: @theonottsbxtch

authors note: this in no way speaks on my opinion of lando and what his personality may be like, i love him this is purely for the plot <3

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You stood in the doorway of Lando’s bedroom in his flat in Monaco, sighing as he went through your phone. His eyes scrunched and a scowl on his lips as he held up the phone for you to see. “Who the hell is that?”

Narrowing your eyes to look, it was another comment some stranger left underneath one of your posts, calling you beautiful. The issue, to Lando at least, was that the stranger was a guy. “I don’t know.”

Lando scoffed and pulled your phone back towards him. “Yeah well, he’s also in your DM’s.”

You tried not to roll your eyes, knowing that would only annoy him further. He was weirdly obsessed with any male attention you received, not that you ever entertained it but he always made it seem like you were the one doing something. “And how many girls are in your comments and your DM’s? It’s not like I ever reply, unlike you.”

It wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise, even with Oscar and all the girls reaching out to him it never bothered you, you knew that’s simply how it was with fame. But the fact Lando would actually reply to them made you uncomfortable. He didn’t seem to care as he waved you off again. “I’m just engaging with my fans, what excuse do you have?”

You baulked at him. “I don’t talk to them.”

“I’m sure you just deleted the chats.” He practically threw your phone at you before turning around to go back to his game.

You wished you could say this was the first and last time you had this conversation with him, but it was beginning to feel like a weekly occurrence. You didn’t understand, he even had the audacity to flirt with girls in front of you but would say he was just being friendly. And who were you to question him, anyway?

You felt lost, lonely. Thrown into the world of dating a celebrity who gave no reassurance and it was like everyone you cared about suddenly wasn’t available to talk anymore. Either because of time zones, work, et cetera. And Oscar… you had always felt like he was someone to lean on without feeling like a burden but even now he felt like a stranger.

Events were beyond awkward, he’d mutter a hello before practically running away from you. Anytime you tried to talk to him, there was an excuse to leave. Your daily texts came to a halt besides a Happy Birthday message and a bouquet of flowers that Lando had thrown away before you even had a chance to hold them.

You’d still sometimes catch him staring at you though, and it kept a little flame of hope alive in your heart that he didn’t hate you. That your friendship maybe was salvageable, it just needed time.

At a club following a relatively successful qualifying for McLaren one night, you had just walked away from the bar with a new drink and weaved between the crowd of people. You weren’t sure where Lando was, and part of you said you probably didn’t want to know. Worrying about all the what if’s was going to kill you. Taking a sip of your drink, you decided you wanted a bit of fresh air and moved towards the large balcony the club had. It was still crowded, but not nearly as much and you found a seat at an empty table.

You mostly people-watched for a while, letting the alcohol create a comforting blanket over your nerves when someone sat down across from you.

Oscar was looking at you, eyes a bit bloodshot and his hair a mess as he held a glass of what might’ve been whiskey. Your shock made you sit there stupidly for a moment and stare at him. Surprised he made the first move to initiate some sort of interaction, anxious to talk to him, angry he had been avoiding you, and mad at yourself for not trying harder to fix things.

“Hi.” He said, his voice a bit rough around the edges.

Apparently words were lost on you as you continued to stare at him.

He sighed, his breath shaking as he messed with his glass tumbler. “Are you happy?”

Pursing your lips, you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look at the city skyline. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not answering.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Oscar.” Not when he was intoxicated, at least.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “Please, I need to- are you happy?”

Dammit, your eyes began to water. Why was he always able to pull such reactions out of you so easily? “You don’t always have to try and save me, Oscar. I’m a grown woman.”

“The most remarkable people in the world still might want help sometimes.”

You looked away from him, biting at the inside of your cheek in a weak attempt to keep your breathing even and wiped a tear away. You missed him, you really did. And maybe this rift was your own doing. You knew you couldn’t blame yourself for Lando’s behaviour but sometimes it felt like everything would’ve been easier, better for Oscar, if you weren’t in the picture. If you had just stayed home and not agreed to come to that first race last season.

Standing up, you offered a tense smile. “I’ll see you at the race tomorrow.” And you walked away.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Oscar had never truly hated anyone before, but with each passing day he came dangerously close to yanking Lando by the collar of his shirt and punching him. The way his teammate so blatantly flirted with other girls while doing media events was beginning to lose its shock value on Oscar, but his anger just kept reaching a boiling point. Maybe he needed to be more level headed and mature about the whole situation, but knowing how much Lando was disrespecting you started to affect how Oscar raced. It wasn’t a hindrance by any means, but people were starting to notice how much more aggressive he was being on track.

A few days before a race weekend, teams were allowed to go out and walk the track to get a feel for it. Which was necessary on all accounts because the upcoming circuit had recently been resurfaced. Oscar had his hands in his pockets as he walked, paying close attention to the curves and the changes in elevation when a familiar waft of perfume caught his attention. It took him off guard, not expecting to find you out here but there you were, walking with Charles’ girlfriend Alex, who was taking their dog Leo for a stroll.

Your eyes immediately caught his, muttering something to Alex before heading in his direction.

He stood there like a deer caught in headlights as you approached, messing with your nails nervously the closer you got. Finally, stopping a few feet away you gave him a small smile. In an instant it was like all the ice that had built up over his heart the past few months began to melt.

“Walk with me?” You offered, extending an olive branch and he nodded, letting a small smile tug at his own lips as he began to walk again, you by his side.

It was quiet for a little while, the air a bit tense but nowhere near what it had been lately.

“I still don’t understand how you aren’t scared shitless when you get in those cars. The turns are so sharp and you come at them so quickly.” You muttered, gnawing at your lip and he couldn’t help but stare at the soft look of them before he forced himself to look away.

“Over time the fear goes away. There’s a thrill to it, I think. An adrenaline rush. Corners are the best part sometimes.” He offered, looking at you again only to find you already staring at him.

“Is that why you hold on to the door handle for dear life when I drive? For the thrill of it?” You joked and he found himself laughing, forgetting how easy it was.

“I think that’s my body going into fight or flight mode when you’re behind the wheel.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head with a grin on your face. The brief physical contact made his head spin and butterflies erupt in his stomach. He desperately wanted to touch you, hug you, something… he didn’t know. “I miss you. This.” The words were out before he could think more on it but he didn’t regret them either.

Coming to a stop in front of Oscar’s garage, you looked up at him and smiled softly. “Me too.”

Your eyes locked onto his, feeling like the world had stopped spinning and it was just the pair of you. Oscar didn’t have to think about anything else as you stood there in front of him. His best friend and the girl he knew had his heart. Slowly, he lifted his hand as your hair got tossed around by the breeze and he brushed it away from your eyes. Taking in the soft feel of your skin and an electric shock went from his fingertips and tore apart each of his nerves.

Pulling away, you turned to go meet your boyfriend and the world started to move again.

He flipped over in his hotel bed, one arm wrapped around your waist as the other found leverage on the mattress. Your soft and shaky breath sent shivers down his body, feeling your soft skin slide against his as he moved down the bed.

“Oscar,” you whimpered out, hands tugging at his hair as desperation began to control your movements. You were so beautiful, no matter where or how he saw you. But there was something akin to holiness as he looked at you spread out on his sheets beneath him. Naked and wanting. Wanting him.

“Relax for me, angel.” He pressed a kiss to your hip before moving down, licking a long stripe up your wet—

He shot up, sweat drenching his skin and a painful erection showing a tent in his sheets. Oscar groaned as reality caught up with him, pressing his palms into his eyes. “What is wrong with me?” He whispered to his empty hotel room, still wishing you could somehow be there next to him.

The sex dreams had always been a common occurrence the moment he realised he liked you. Years of built up sexual frustration and he always felt guilty about them afterward. You were his best friend yet every other night he fantasised about fucking you. The dreams never stopped, even when you were in a relationship. Even when he was in one.

His hands dropped as he stared out the window, depressed and frustrated. “I am awful,” he muttered. But Oscar knew he’d have one again. Part of him didn’t want them to stop, and he’d tell himself he could live with the guilt.

Later that day, maybe it was the lack of sleep or the constant pain of knowing you were with Lando, but when he caught his teammate slipping a girl his number he snapped.

Once they rounded a corner and no one was around, Oscar grabbed onto his shirt and slammed him into the wall, pinning him there with an arm against Lando’s chest. “You are such a joke.” He bit out.

Lando blinked at him in surprise before shaking away his shock, trying to shove Oscar off of him but the Aussie didn’t budge. “What is your problem, mate? Get the hell off me.”

“Does she know you’re out here messing around or do you like rubbing it in her face so blatantly?” Oscar was three seconds away from punching him before Lando shoved him more roughly, finally managing to break free from the wall.

He narrowed his eyes at Oscar before laughing, the sound of it dry and lacking all amusement. “Since when did you start giving a fuck about her again?”

Clenching just jaw, Oscar walked up to his teammate, his own eyes narrowed and his voice low. “Quit playing with her or I’ll run you off the damn track.” With that, he patted Lando’s shoulder once before walking away.

The Dutch Grand Prix was approaching and Oscar felt like he was losing it. You were everywhere. Plaguing his thoughts. In all his dreams. All he could think about. Him and Lando had hit a stand still in their working relationship and the friendship they had built came crumbling down when Oscar realised how much of an arse he truly was to you.

There was a small get together with a decent amount of the drivers and some friends at a townhouse Max had. The grill was now cool from the earlier barbecue and most of the crowd had moved inside as the night air grew chilled and rain was approaching.

Oscar felt suffocated inside the house, though. Everything was too bright and too close. You were everywhere yet nowhere at once and Lando was being a smug bastard, acting like a saint when he was really a devil in disguise. No matter how hard Oscar tried, he couldn’t stop looking at you. Wishing he was Lando and hating himself for it. Wishing he was the one who got to fall asleep next to you at night, knowing he could love you properly. Then Lando disappeared, and so did you and he felt his brain shatter into a million pieces. Knowing it wasn’t him made his chest physically hurt and he stumbled towards the back yard, not being able to breathe until the door was shut behind him and all the voices became muted.

He froze the moment he saw you laying in the grass, staring up at the moon.

“Hey,” you said, hearing his footsteps approach before he laid down next to you. The grass was damp from earlier rain but he didn’t care. You were there next to him, that’s all that mattered.

It was quiet for a while. The only noise was from the house and crickets, sometimes thunder from the distance. His mind was moving quickly, yet sluggishly, and still everything felt strangely clear all the sudden as he star gazed with you.

“Break up with him.”

You were silent, but he heard you take in a sharp breath before you whispered the next word. “What?”

“Break up with him.”

“Oscar—“

Turning to you and perching himself up by his elbow, he continued. “I know I waited too long. I know I didn’t communicate with you. I know I’m an arse for ignoring you. I’m sorry, I am, but— he is horrible to you. You’re not happy, I know you aren’t.”

You looked up at him, still laying down and the moonlight painted a heavenly sight before him as your brows furrowed. “You know it’s not that simple.”

“Why not? I know you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you—“

You finally sat up, eyes narrowed. “And what? You do? All this time you’ve apparently loved me but would tell me you weren’t interested and would go off dating other girls. What the hell am I supposed to do with that, Oscar?”

He quickly stood up to follow you as you also got up and began to walk away from him.

“Why put yourself through hell for him?” He bit out.

“I have spent years putting myself through hell waiting for you! I can handle him.”

“You shouldn’t have to handle him!”

You whipped around to yell something at him when the back door suddenly opened and Logan stepped out, eyeing the scene wearily. “Am I interrupting something?”

Before Oscar could say anything, you bit out a “Nope,” and stormed past the two drivers, disappearing into the house.

Logan quietly shut the door and raised a brow at Oscar. “Trouble in paradise?”

Oscar fell heavily onto a porch chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Something like that.”

Looking at his friend for a moment, Logan sat down across from him. “You know,” he started, “I’ve known you two for a long time and you’ve always seemed to work something out.”

Sighing, Oscar leaned back in the chair and thought about the last few months. Thought about that fateful night a few years ago. Logan must’ve been thinking about it, too.

“I know how messy it was the first time and how much you beat yourself up over it, but it worked out didn't it?”

“Did it?” Oscar asked. “I feel like we just kept pushing off the inevitable and now it’s blown up in my face.”

“Look, I know it sucked but you did the right thing not getting into a relationship with her back then. That would’ve blown up in your face. But now, man, you have the world at your fingertips.” He paused for a moment and rubbed at his chin. “Why’d you invite her in the first place?”

Oscar frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. You never invited her to your old races. You knew how busy you’d be once you started in Formula One, you wanted her here.”

He shrugged. “I mean yeah, but—“

“And now Lando is in the way?”

Oscar sighed, “yeah.”

The long time friends looked at each other, not sure whether or not to mention they both knew Lando was cheating on you. Logan caught him with some girl in a hotel bar, Carlos yelled at him a few weeks ago when he caught him with someone, and the list went on.

Oscar had a feeling you knew as well, and he couldn’t wrap his head around why you wouldn’t just leave the bastard.

As if reading his thoughts, Logan spoke again. “She might feel trapped, you know? Despite even the worst circumstances, it’s hard to leave relationships sometimes.”

“When did you get wise?”

Logan laughed and shook his head, standing up to pat his friend on the shoulder. “I always have been. Now, you have two options. One, run after her and try to fix this no matter what or else you’re going to go through the rest of your life wondering what if you had tried harder. Or two, you try to let go of it. Let go of her, and move on.”

Oscar licked at his dry lips and looked down at his hands, noticing the calluses he got from racing. “I can’t forget about her.”

“Then get off your ass and go after her.”

Logan didn’t have to tell him again. He patted the American on the back in thanks and took off into the house, only you were nowhere to be seen.

He caught sight of Charles and pulled him to the side. “Have you seen her?”

His friend looked at him knowingly, the Monegasque had a weird sixth sense on reading people and on more than one occasion he had offered Oscar some friendly advice on the matter of a broken heart. “She left, mate. Not with Lando though, if that helps.”

It did, and if Oscar wasn’t in such a rush he would’ve hugged the man.

He muttered a thanks before grabbing his keys and running out the door. He wasn’t sure where she was, but the first place he would assume is the hotel the McLaren team was staying at.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

You shivered as you walked, your anger at everything beginning to fizzle away. Adrenaline had kept you warm for the most part as you got deeper into the city but now that it was fading you grew a bit nervous. A woman walking alone at night was never the safest or smartest decision.

But you had been so pissed off at Lando and angry that Oscar had been right. Right about everything. Lando was bad news but you were so desperate for attention you let a man start to slowly pick at you in ways he knew would make you crumble. He knew all your insecurities and would point them out to make a statement or if he got bored.

If you would’ve just been smart and waited a bit longer you could’ve been happy with Oscar. But… you had waited for years and you were tired. You knew it wasn’t your fault that he didn’t communicate how he had actually felt about you. That still didn’t solve any of the raging emotions going off inside you.

You heard a car approaching and kept your head down, hoping they would shoot past you. Much to your horror, the car with a strong sounding engine began to slow down. The deep rumble from it made your bones tremble, or maybe that was your fear.

Then a window rolled down and a familiar voice called out. “Get in the car.”

You didn’t know what was wrong with you. You were being irrational, surely. But you kept walking, “go away.”

The car halted to a stop, a door opening and slamming shut and not a moment later Oscar was standing in front of you. Angry. “Get in the fucking car.”

You blinked at him. You knew he swore during races but hardly ever at you. You were about to argue with him, being fueled by pure stubbornness at this point when there was a loud crack of lightning and it began to rain.

“Fine,” you bit out, getting into the expensive car and at that moment you didn’t care if your wet clothes ruined the leather. Oscar didn’t seem to care either as he slammed his door shut.

He started driving once you buckled and you wanted to roll your eyes. He was clearly pissed at you, though you couldn’t fathom why. It wasn’t like you did anything to him. What made it clear he was mad was the increasing speed of the car. He was always careful, always put together. Besides when racing, you weren’t sure you had ever actually seen him speed before.

Although you trusted him with your life, your mouth felt dry as you went around a wide corner, your body being pushed to the side by the force of it. “Oscar—“

“What the hell is wrong with you? Walking out here alone at night in a country you’ve never been in?”

“We both know that’s not why you’re mad right now.”

Oscar laughed, the sound rough on your ears as he whipped around another turn, the tyres losing a bit of traction from the rain but he manoeuvred into a drift and easily corrected the car with a complicated turning of the wheel and doing lord knows what with the gear shift.

This was absolutely not the time to be thinking such things but you couldn’t help but notice how attractive he looked breaking who knows how many traffic laws. Your thoughts only annoyed you though, not understanding why you had to like him. Not understanding why you let yourself get into the current position you were now in. Not understanding why you let Lando treat you like shit.

“So your driving isn’t any better off the track, either.” The cruel words slipped out on their own accord. You didn’t mean it. Maybe it was Lando rubbing off on you, maybe you were just making excuses.

Oscar didn’t say anything, his knuckles turned white on the steering and sped up, going well over the speed limit now and drifting, the back of the car swinging much too close to poles and buildings. It was reckless yet controlled all at once. Maybe this was his outlet. He wasn’t a big drinker, obviously didn’t dabble in drugs, he wasn’t violent, and a Formula One car was worth millions of dollars and too risky to take frustrations out on. Maybe he did this often, maybe that’s why he did it with expert precision as he raced through the streets of Zandvoort.

You didn’t know why, but when police sirens and flashing lights started to follow the car, you laughed. It was strangely liberating, watching Oscar let go of everything for once and for you to let go of fear.

Your eyes met his, red and blue lights gleaming off them and you two shared a smile before he raced off, evading law enforcement with a surprising ease and you wondered what other surprises Oscar still had in store for you after all these years.

He pulled into a dark alleyway between two buildings, quickly shutting the car off and turning out the lights. He lightly placed a hand on your back and pushed you down so you both weren’t in view from the back window. A few seconds later the police whipped by, neither of you moved till the sirens faded.

You were quiet for a minute, the only sound was your heavy breathing mixed with Oscar’s and you could just barely catch the gleam of his eyes in the dark as he looked at you. Sitting up, you messed with the hem of your shirt, a cold wave of reality hitting you. This felt like some sort of event horizon. Whatever happened in this car would determine if and how he’ll be in your life.

“Oscar,” you started quietly. He sat up as well, looking at you in the dark and hummed, patient. “Please tell me this all isn’t because I’m now something you feel like you can’t have.” The words were out, one of your biggest fears. Insecurities. Terrified he was only interested because suddenly you weren’t an option anymore. An option he’d always had.

“Angel, there was never anyone else.” His voice was so quiet you barely heard him, or maybe your heart was beating too loudly over his words. “I’m done for.”

You sucked in a breath, forgetting how to breathe as you looked at him. Your best friend. The man you’ve been in love with for years. The way he was looking at you, it wasn’t any different than how he usually did. You had just apparently been naïve to the sheer desperation in it.

“Oscar—“

His lips crashed against yours, your back hitting the door and his hands cupped your face, holding him to you.

You froze, only for a moment as your stomach dropped from the surprise. Then it came rushing back up to you and your fingers buried themselves in his hair, kissing him back with such ferocity you weren’t aware you were capable of.

One of his hands held the nape of your neck while his other hand quickly undid your seat belt, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He was so warm, soft yet rough at the same time and he tasted like heaven. As his tongue slid past your lips, dancing against yours you let out a moan that had him trembling against you.

Years. You had waited years to kiss him. You’ve dreamt about it. God, you even cried about it a couple of times. The pure longing you had been harbouring all this time had reached criticality and now you were just about to explode. His hands were all over you, exploring every inch as if he was a crazed man who found the holy grail and couldn’t quite believe it.

His tongue explored the inside of your mouth, hot and wet and he was practically breathing you in. Your nails raked through his hair, wanting so much more it felt maddening.

His teeth tugged at your bottom lip as he pulled away, his eyes heavy lidded and before you could utter a complaint his mouth latched onto your neck, just below your jaw. The sound that left your mouth was embarrassing but he seemed to love it, a moan leaving his mouth and vibrating through you as he left a wet trail of open mouth kisses down your throat, sucking and biting as he went.

You tugged on his hair, a whimper leaving his mouth but it was swallowed up by your mouth as you kissed him again. With one hand snaking up underneath your shirt, his other hand grabbed your wrist and placed it on—

Your brain short circuited by how hard his cock was. Not only that, but you were touching him. There. You could faint.

“Angel, please.” It was practically a whine as he kept kissing you, his hips pushing up into your hand. As if the sounds leaving his mouth commanded you, you squeezed his erection through his pants.

Oscar shuddered violently, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “Fuck.”

“Oscar.” You sounded needy. You didn’t care. And for a whole list of fucked up reasons, you didn’t care that you had a boyfriend.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, f1, maxverstappen1 and 1,926,378 others

landonorris yup 🏆 more like it

*tap to load more comments*

userone: LESGOOOOO

usertwo: twowinssss

userthree: anyone notice how tense lando & oscar were?

| userfour: yea… and landos gf. super weird

| userfive: neither of them liked this either

usersix: y’all see those dm’s some girl leaked???

| userseven: YEAAA lando has been lurkinggg

| usereight: embarrassing honestly

usernine: y’all see that video of oscar drifting through the city? wild

| userten: I KNOWWW it was sick. didn’t know he was like that

| usereleven: who do you think the girl was in the passenger seat?

usertweleve: MORE DM’S GOT LEAKED

userthirteen: lando is quite literally for the streets

userfourteen: is this why oscar has been racing dirtier? his teammate fucks over his best friend? yikes

comments have been disabled

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (6)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

Author's Note: We’re nearing the end of this series! Thank you to everyone on here for your support, especially in the comments and reblogs. This will probably be my last Leon fic for a while. Sometimes it felt like I was writing into the void and it was a little disheartening, but I started to realise that I need a change of scenery and explore writing through other fandoms.

AO3 Link

Chapter 6: Full Circle

“Am I looking at the new Chief of Police?” 

You cracked a grin as Marvin graced your shop clad in his shiny new outfit and badge that made him look almost regal. Gold stripes and stars lined the cuffs and epaulets of his navy blue jacket. He removed his elegantly embroidered peaked cap, tucking it under his arm as he rubbed his buzz cut. And there he was again, the same old Marvin that you knew.

“You sure are.” He winked, reflecting your grin before a minor shadow loomed over his face. “Can’t say the circumstances I got promoted in were the most pleasant though.”

Laying your hand on his shoulder, you gave it a firm, supportive squeeze. “Everyone knows you deserve this, Marv. You’ll do great.”

“Aww, look what you’ve done! Making me cry all over my nice suit like that,” he emitted a low chuckle, his voice cracking up as he patted your hand. Wiping away a stray tear from his waterline, he cleared his throat and pulled up a chair at the counter.

“So, what can I get for the man of the hour?”

“You know me, I’m a creature of habit,” he affirmed.

You caught the drift, your hands already busying themselves as if they had a mind of their own. “Something gingery.”

The kettle whistled as steam rushed through its spout. Taking it off the stove, you poured it over a mixture of the fresh ginger and turmeric root you had diced up. You allowed it to steep for a while before adding in the jasmine tea leaves. Finally, you strained it into a tea cup garnished with the flower petals.

“Your celebratory drink—Golden Dawn.”

“I can already tell I’m gonna love it.” Marvin lifted the cup to his lips, blowing on it lightly before drinking it sip by sip. 

“Nice music too,” he added, bobbing his head along to one of the tunes on the stereo. “This what you kids listen to these days?”

Over the next hour, you engaged in lighthearted chatter until it came to the never ending squabble of who would pay—or not. As always, you won, telling the older man to accept the gift and enjoy some quality time with his wife and daughters.

As Marvin prepared to leave, Ben and Claire coincidentally came through the door. All three of them stopped dead in their tracks, tensing up as they eyed each other awkwardly. 

It was Ben who broke the silence, extending his hand as he said, “Congratulations, Branagh. I mean it.” 

And he truly did. There was not a note of insincerity in the man’s tone.

At this, Marvin smiled, giving Ben a cordial handshake. “Thanks, Bertolucci. Guess I’ll be seeing you around, though hopefully not on my case,” he joked. 

That elicited a roar of laughter from Ben. “I go where the story leads me, Chief.”

“You really are the devil in disguise,” Marvin noted wryly. “Well, I’mma head off, so have a good evening.”

“Bertolucci. Redfield,” he acknowledged, tipping his cap to the two before giving you a final wave as he exited the shop.

“Drinks on me,” Ben declared, smacking the counter table with his palm.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t a bar have been a better choice?”

“Yeah, we’re headed there after,” he confirmed. “Just had to patronize the place that fueled all my sleepless nights first.”

“I read the article by the way,” you mentioned in passing as you got to work. “It was very well-written and fair.”

“Facts, you can’t go wrong with facts,” he clarified. “I don’t sensationalize.”

“You could’ve been scathing, but you didn’t. That’s an active choice,” you pointed out.

The article had identified several instances of corruption and gross misconduct that the previous chief had been involved in, but in a relatively neutral tone. It also ended on a more positive and optimistic note, creating hope for the future of the RPD.

“Heh, well,” he shrugged, pressing against the bridge of his spectacles as he gave you a coy smile. “Maybe I am getting soft.”

Turning to Claire, he noted, “You’re quiet today, Red. You should be celebrating, kid.”

“Mmm,” she responded with mild disinterest, though you could see her glancing at the shop’s entrance every now and then.

“I didn’t have shot glasses, so I used your favorite—espresso cups,” you teased, placing the two orders on the table. “These should make good pre-drinks.”

“What’s in it?” Ben asked skeptically, unused to anything other than his trusty coffee.

“Let’s just say a combination of lemon, olive oil and cinnamon. I added some other flavorings to make it more palatable,” you explained. “Prevents hangovers.”

Swirling the liquid, he pinched his lips together and remarked, “Guess it wouldn’t hurt. Bet it’s got one of those hippy names too?”

“Grandma’s Cure.”

“Hah! That’s a good one!” he exclaimed, taking a swig from his demitasse.

There was a short pause before he gave his verdict, “Hmm! Not bad… not bad at all.”

However, Claire still left hers untouched and her mind appeared to be elsewhere.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked out of concern.

Claire shook herself out of her thoughts, stumbling over her words, “Y-yeah, shit, I’m sorry.”

Consuming the drink as quickly as possible, she thumped the cup back onto the counter, cleaning her mouth with the back of her hand. Fortuitously, your next customer who came through the door appeared to be the one she was looking for.

“Leon?”

The young officer froze, swallowing nervously as he stared at her. “Claire.”

You and Ben exchanged looks as you tilted your head in the direction of the exit, indicating to him to give them some space. He nodded discreetly in response, understanding what you were getting at.

Immediately, he stood up with a grunt and clapped Claire on the back. “Alright, Red, I’ll make a headstart first and you can join me at Jack’s Bar when you’re ready.”

With that, he placed some cash on the table, casually saluting you before making his way out.

Claire wasted no time getting to the crux of the matter. “That anonymous tip—it was you, wasn’t it?”

Slumping down on the seat beside her, Leon conceded, “Yeah, you got me.”

“I shouldn’t have pressured you into it, I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

“No, you wanted to do the right thing,” he sympathized. “I was so caught up in an ideal that never existed, I forgot about that.”

“It was decent of you to get Bertolucci to hold off on publishing the article until Irons stepped down,” he continued. “At least it was less of a blow to the department as a whole.”

“Still, the way I treated you was uncalled for,” she argued. “You’re a good friend, Leon, I…” her voice cracked.

“Sometimes, people say things because they’re hurt,” he mentioned, giving you a knowing look. 

You smiled back, acknowledging the very same advice you had given him when you first met.

“Pals?” He stuck out his palm.

“What are you, twelve?” she scoffed. Breaking into a dazzling grin, she grasped his hand as though they were sealing a pact. “Pals.”

“Care for another?” you offered, presenting the drinks you had crafted up on the side.

Claire’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t mind if we do.”

Sherry arrived soon after, instantly taking to the redhead like an older sister. Eventually, Claire went off to join Ben, promising to return for a proper goodbye before leaving to finish her semester.

“How was school?” you asked, scooping yet another dollop of whipped cream into Sherry’s drink upon her instructions. She could be quite assertive when she wanted to be.

“Good…” she hummed. “Made a friend.”

“That’s awesome!” Leon commended.

“Oh, and no one dares to touch me, ’cause I told them you’ll kick their ass,” she added.

“Wait, what?” he guffawed, but she suddenly had the urge to use the bathroom and scurried off.

“Impossible,” he huffed as you snickered.

Leaning on your elbows over the counter, you addressed him, “Not that I don’t ask you this every day, but anything new with you?”

“Well, apart from the stuff with Claire and the RPD, it turned out that the background checks on the suspicious lady in red came up clean,” he reported.

“Wow, Kevin must be pissed.”

“You don’t say. Wesker kinda just lets her through too. The whole thing just screams trouble to me,” he admitted. “Guess you win some, you lose some.”

“Anyway, speaking of Kevin, he told me to pass you this.” Chucking a folded letter on the table, his icy blue eyes watched you like a hawk as an unreadable expression formed on his face.

“Huh, looks like everyone’s doing the rounds today,” you muttered, opening the paper to read its contents.

A telephone number was written down in bold black marker, followed by a “CALL ME ;)”

Your shoulders trembled as you burst out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief. That guy had some nerve for pulling off such a stunt, unless…

“You gonna?” Leon quizzed, and you swore you could sense a hint of jealousy in his voice.

“Whaddya think?” you smirked, closing the gap as your nose nudged against his.

His eyes fluttered, and he sucked in a sharp breath. You felt his lips barely graze yours until—

“So… are you, like, boyfriend and girlfriend?”

All at once, you were back at square one, Leon having hastily distanced himself away from you as Sherry stared at the two of you inquisitively.

“Yes—no. I mean, no?” Leon stuttered, his cheeks burning crimson as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

You let out a frustrated sigh, deciding to leave them to their devices for the moment while you counted stock in the cabinets. At some point, Sherry wanted to go home and Leon took it upon himself to drive her back.

As you said your good nights, to your surprise, Leon wrapped his arms around your waist, dragging you in for a spontaneous embrace. “We’ll talk about this soon—about us,” he whispered into your hair.

Soon could not come soon enough.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[prettykittytanjiro]

Can people please talk about the absolutely disgusting thing that got uncovered in Tirumala?

Honestly I don't engage with many politics or news posts, as they can often end up in conflict- but this absolutely disgusts and saddens me to no end.

There are so many things on so many levels that hurt me about this- and I'll be talking about it in this post.

If you do not like this post, or disagree with my opinions, please do not engage with this post.

QUICK RECAP, FOR THOSE WHO DON'T KNOW OR NEED A REFRESHER:

Recently, it was uncovered through lab reports that there were animal products (such as beef, pork and fish) in the prasad (food given as offerings to the deity in the temple, in this case, Lord Venkateswara, and then given to the devotees) of the Tirumala temple, more specifically, in the Laddos.

--

The following is my view on this is my opinion on this whole incident, from what I know about it.

Again, if you do not like or disagree with the contents, please do not interact.

First of all, the fact that this went under the noses of so many people, so easily, is a complete dissapointment.

Hundreds, if not thousands of devotees visit the massive temple complex every day- and consume the prasad- hell, this doesn't even include the people who get the prasad as a gift from people who visited Tirumala.

Not even counting faith- this was so wrong on multiple other levels- including health. This was obviously a massive food safety violation.

Fine. Let's say that this alarmingly large issue went unnoticed accidently. But that still doesn't justify the responses of the people in charge.

And then going into that temple and saying that 'if we did this wrong then the lord will take care of us' is absolutely shameful.

Pushing all the wrongs onto god's name, just so that no-one will question them, instead of acknowledging a huge, huge wrong is just absolutely so so disappointing and shameful.

I am just immensely, immensely disappointed by this chain of events- and all I can say is that I'm absolutely ashamed of it all.

This whole incident speaks a lot about these 'organisations' and their actions- and just breaks my trust in them even more.

--

I was scared to post about this incident- but after a point, I simply could not take it. Tirumala is a place very, very close to my heart and honestly I considered it a safe haven- but now this incident has shaken me up. Tirumala will never lose its divinity- but this just makes me so much more reluctant to go there- not because I don't like Tirumala, or that I think of it as different- but because of my distrust at the organisation handling matters regarding it.

I'll probably add on more to this post soon, but for now, this is it.

[beevean]

If I’m being honest, you are all getting way too hung up on fake diseases and attacking a writer as if he personally attacked your family. It’s a strange obsession you have and you guys always come at any small nitpick as if it’s the end of the world. It’s a weird obsession and you have all been doing it for years. Maybe you liked Sunset Heights getting a remix but you also play victim when people don’t like the 2010s games. You can see Sonic is more successful now and doing things much better but you just like to sit in your anger towards the series for years. I’ll add that you’re much more sane in your reactions than RandomtheFox, but this whole side of the fandom here is so pathetic. The endless loop of anything new coming out for Sonic, and your little posse hating on it because it isn’t the meta era or because Ian Flynn has his name on it makes me glad you guys are a small minority in the fandom.

Do you want to know why we're discussing this?

If you go back and read our discussions, see how much we brought up with this little detail!

I looked up the effects of low gravity on the human body: I learned something new about science. I tried to put into words why this detail is harder to accept than Sonic breathing in space: this is about stories and world building. I immediately found a replacement idea. We discussed about SA2, its gameplay mechanics, its cutscenes. Someone even brought up the idea of drawing parallels with AIDS and how it would affect Maria. Negativity can stem from a place of reasoning, "how would I do that?", and it makes me use my brain in a fun way. I'm aware it's a inconsequential detail, but I'm having fun!

As for the rest of the message, yeah, we are a minority. Which makes me wonder why you care so much about a group of, what, four people?

Why don't I get any engagement when I'm positive, but suddenly people are up my ass when I talk about something negative? I didn't even tag most of my posts. Bro half of the Sonic fandom blocked me already because I'm a dirty sinning IDW non-enjoyer. I am not bothering anyone.

By the way, my negativity about IDW once even resulted in me writing a fic about it. Again, creativity and genuine discussions about writing a story and its downfalls. It nourishes the brain.

I don't like this new direction for Sonic. There, happy? I don't feel catered to, as a 2000s fan, by all this "REMEMBER WHEN WE WERE COOL????" stuff, not to mention I'm just not a Shadow fan so seeing him with wings and shit does nothing for me. I am annoyed because this used to be a franchise dear to me, but the current environment, both games and fandom, alienates me. I am also aware that, precisely because I'm in the minority, I'll just have to wait until ST changes trend again.

If my writer side activates when I talk about a writing decision I don't like and I'm having fun dissecting it, let me, alright? You can find me cringe, if you want to, but I'm not doing anything different than other fans, just directed towards a less acceptable target and in the privacy of my blocked blog.

Also: to be perfectly honest, if it only takes me one day of mild bitching to get anons yelling at me that I'm a joyless bastard doomed to be sad because I refuse to be happy, it kind of makes me want to be saltier out of spite. I'm already a bad person, might as well, right?

[songbirdseung]

good graces / yang jungwon

where you are yang jungwon's first girlfriend, leading you to constantly remind him on the things he should do and should not do. reminding him to stay in your good graces. Boy it's not that complicated genre fluff, est. relationship, new relationship, clueless wonie

yang jungwon had always been calm, composed, and confident when it came to leading his group or making decisions, but being in a relationship? that was entirely new territory for him. you, his first girlfriend, had quickly realized that while jungwon was sweet and kind, he was very inexperienced. it didn’t take long before you found yourself gently reminding him about the little things he should or shouldn’t do, ensuring he stayed on track to be the best boyfriend he could be.

“okay, jungwon, remember—when we’re out, no hugging every single person you meet!” you said, poking his cheek playfully as the two of you walked hand in hand through the park. jungwon chuckled, his eyes squinting in that adorable way you loved.

“but i’m just being friendly!” he protested, grinning at you. “it’s not like i’m—”

“too friendly,” you interrupted with a teasing smile. “there’s friendly, and then there’s you giving a bear hug to every girl we meet.”

jungwon blinked, clearly realizing he might have been overdoing it a little. “oh… was that bad?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “it’s not bad, wonnie, it’s just… some people might misunderstand, and i’m pretty sure i don’t want to fight off every girl in the neighborhood because they think you’re available.”

he nodded, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. “got it. no more bear hugs.”

but despite the little reminders, jungwon was still learning. one time, the two of you were sitting at a cafe, enjoying a cozy date when a group of girls from his class spotted him. jungwon, ever the polite and friendly guy, waved them over. you watched with a mixture of amusement and mild concern as he casually engaged in conversation with them, all while you sat quietly beside him.

“jungwon…” you muttered under your breath as one of the girls leaned a little too close to him, laughing at something he said. he glanced at you, clueless as always, before turning back to the girls.

“oh, right! this is my girlfriend, yn!” jungwon suddenly introduced you, making the girls blink in surprise.

“girlfriend?” one of them echoed, clearly taken aback. you could see the realization hit jungwon like a ton of bricks as he finally noticed the tension in the air.

“um… we should get going, right?” he said quickly, standing up and grabbing your hand.

as soon as you left the cafe, jungwon sighed and looked at you apologetically. “did i mess up again?”

“just a little,” you teased, squeezing his hand. “you’ll get the hang of it eventually. i mean, you don’t have to announce that i’m your girlfriend every time. just maybe don’t give them a reason to wonder, okay?”

jungwon smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’ll try harder. i promise.”

there were also cute, innocent moments where jungwon was just trying too hard to be the perfect boyfriend. like the time he spent three hours trying to bake you cookies because he wanted to surprise you. when you arrived at his dorm, the kitchen was a disaster zone—flour everywhere, chocolate smears on the counter, and jungwon covered in what you could only assume was a mix of cookie dough and regret.

“surprise?” he said, holding up a plate of oddly shaped cookies.

you burst into laughter, unable to contain it. “oh my god, what happened here?”

jungwon pouted, looking down at his ‘masterpiece.’ “i just wanted to do something nice for you… but i think i need more practice.”

you took one of the cookies, biting into it despite its appearance. “hmm, not bad,” you said, trying to stifle a laugh. “but maybe next time, let’s try baking together?”

“deal,” jungwon agreed, his face brightening.

despite his little mishaps, you couldn’t help but find them endearing. it wasn’t about jungwon being perfect, but about how hard he tried. even when he messed up, he was always eager to learn, always wanting to make you happy.

one night, after a long day, you both collapsed onto his couch, exhausted but content. jungwon snuggled up next to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“thanks for being patient with me,” he murmured softly. “i know i still have a lot to learn.”

you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing great, wonnie. and besides, it’s kinda fun teaching you.”

“uh, yn?” he asked hesitantly, eyes shifting from you to the screen and back again.

“yeah?” you replied, not really paying attention, focused on the movie.

“so… am i supposed to put my arm around you now? or is that only in the movies?” he whispered, clearly overthinking the whole situation.

you couldn’t help but giggle, loving how clueless he was. “you don’t have to, jungwon, but you can if you want.”

his cheeks flushed pink as he slowly, awkwardly draped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close. “how’s this? is this okay?”

“perfect,” you murmured, snuggling into him. despite his nervousness, he let out a relieved sigh, clearly pleased that he’d managed to get it right.

another memorable moment happened when jungwon tried to impress you with his "boyfriend skills" at an arcade. you’d suggested going for a fun day out, and jungwon, being the competitive person he is, immediately decided he was going to win you something from the claw machine.

“watch this,” he said confidently, inserting the coins and cracking his knuckles. “i’m gonna win you that teddy bear.”

you watched with an amused smile as he attempted—and failed—three times in a row. the claw kept slipping off the bear, and jungwon’s face grew more and more determined each time. after his fifth try, you couldn’t help but tease him.

“so… are you winning it for me today or should we come back next week?” you grinned.

jungwon shot you a playful glare but couldn’t hide his smile. “i’ll get it, just you wait.”

he finally managed to hook the bear on the sixth try, and he turned to you with a proud smile, holding the prize up triumphantly. “see? i told you i’d win it!”

you clapped, pretending to be overjoyed. “wow, my hero! six times the charm, huh?”

he rolled his eyes but handed you the bear with a grin. “hey, i still won it, didn’t i?”

but despite all his adorable efforts to be the perfect boyfriend, jungwon still found himself in hot water from time to time—usually because he was just a bit too friendly. like the time you both went to a classmate’s party, and one of his female classmates kept chatting him up. jungwon, being the polite guy he was, didn’t think much of it, but you noticed the girl was a little too eager to be close to him.

“jungwon,” you said under your breath, tugging at his sleeve. “maybe tone it down a little?”

he blinked at you in confusion. “tone what down?”

“you’re being too nice again,” you replied, nodding toward the girl, who was still lingering nearby.

jungwon’s eyes widened in realization. “oh… i didn’t even notice.” he then wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “sorry, i’ll be more careful.”

you couldn’t stay mad at him. it wasn’t like he meant to do it—he just had a natural charm that made people gravitate toward him, even when he wasn’t trying.

there was another time when jungwon tried to surprise you with a cute text, but it didn’t exactly go as planned. it was your first anniversary as a couple, and you were expecting something sweet from him. instead, you received a message that made you burst out laughing:

jungwon: "happy first adversary, baby!"

you quickly texted him back: "uh, wonnie… you mean anniversary?"

his response came quickly, followed by a series of embarrassed emojis: "omg, i meant anniversary. ignore that please."

when you met him later that day, you couldn’t resist teasing him about it. “adversary, huh? are we enemies now?”

jungwon groaned, his cheeks bright red as he buried his face in his hands. “please don’t bring that up again. i was nervous!”

you grinned, patting his head. “don’t worry, it was cute. i love my ‘adversary.’”

“stop it,” he whined, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t really upset.

and of course, there were all the little moments where jungwon was simply too clueless for his own good. like the time he tried to surprise you by cooking dinner but ended up setting off the smoke alarm instead.

you’d rushed over to his dorm when you received a panicked call from him, only to find jungwon waving a towel at the smoke alarm, coughing and laughing at himself. “so… maybe cooking’s not my thing,” he admitted sheepishly as you opened the windows to let out the smoke.

“you think?” you teased, unable to stop giggling.

he pouted, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “hey, at least i tried. it’s the thought that counts, right?”

you shook your head, wrapping your arms around him. “yes, it is. but maybe next time, let’s just order takeout.”

jungwon let out a relieved laugh, hugging you back tightly. “deal. no more setting off alarms.”

as your relationship with jungwon continued, it became clear that he was growing more comfortable with the dynamics of being a boyfriend, though the cute little slip-ups kept happening. but that was part of the charm—watching him learn, adapt, and still manage to mess up in the most endearing ways.

one weekend, you and jungwon had plans for a picnic date in the park. it was a sunny day, and he was eager to show off his newfound cooking skills after the infamous smoke alarm incident. he had insisted on preparing all the food himself, and although you were a little skeptical, you were excited to see what he came up with.

you arrived at the park, and jungwon was already setting up the picnic blanket under a big oak tree, the basket of food placed neatly in the center. you smiled as you walked over, admiring how cute and eager he looked.

“hey, chef wonnie!” you called out, teasing him a little. “what did you cook up this time? no fire alarms, i hope.”

jungwon grinned, standing up to greet you with a quick hug. “no fire alarms this time, i promise. i made sandwiches… and something special.”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “something special?”

he opened the basket, pulling out a small container and handing it to you. “open it.”

you took the container, curious, and popped the lid open to reveal… a heart-shaped rice ball. you blinked, surprised by how cute it was.

“you made this?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

jungwon scratched the back of his neck, a little shy. “yeah. i thought it’d be cute, you know… since you’re always saying i should do more romantic stuff.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, touched by the effort he’d put in. “it’s adorable, jungwon. i love it.”

“really?” his eyes lit up, clearly relieved. “i wasn’t sure if it was too cheesy.”

“it’s cheesy, but in the best way possible,” you assured him, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek. “you’re getting better at this boyfriend thing.”

he puffed out his chest proudly. “well, i do have the best teacher.”

the two of you sat down on the blanket, enjoying the food and each other’s company. it was peaceful, with the sun shining and a light breeze rustling the trees. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so content.

after a while, jungwon pulled out his phone and started playing some music, soft and relaxing. you leaned your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“hey,” jungwon suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“yeah?” you replied, tilting your head up to look at him.

he hesitated for a second, then said, “i’ve been thinking… i wanna be better at this.”

“better at what?”

“you know, being your boyfriend,” he admitted, his voice soft but serious. “i know i mess up a lot, and i’m still figuring things out, but i really want to make you happy.”

your heart melted at his words. “jungwon, you’re already doing an amazing job. you don’t have to be perfect.”

“i know, but…” he trailed off, looking down at you with those wide, sincere eyes. “i love you, and i want to keep getting better for you.”

you smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “i love you too, jungwon. and honestly, the fact that you’re trying so hard is more than enough for me.”

jungwon’s face softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’ll keep trying, okay? for you.”

“and i’ll keep helping you,” you teased, poking his side.

he laughed, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. “deal.”

later that day, as you walked home together, hand in hand, jungwon spotted a couple walking in front of you. the guy wrapped his arm around the girl’s waist, pulling her closer, and you could practically see the gears turning in jungwon’s head.

without saying a word, he mimicked the couple, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in a little awkwardly. you chuckled, glancing up at him.

“what are you doing?” you asked, amused.

“being a good boyfriend,” he replied with a determined look on his face, though you could see the shy smile tugging at his lips.

you smiled, leaning into him. “you’re such a dork.”

“but i’m your dork,” he shot back, a playful glint in his eyes.

you laughed, shaking your head. “can’t argue with that.”

as you continued walking, jungwon suddenly stopped, pulling you to a halt too. you looked at him, confused.

“what’s up?” you asked.

he looked down at you, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “i… i wanna say it.”

“say what?”

“i love you,” he said quietly, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “i don’t think i say it enough, and i want you to know.”

your heart fluttered at his words. “i love you too, jungwon.”

he smiled, looking relieved, and pulled you into a tight hug. you stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around you fading away. it was just you and him, and in that moment, everything felt right.

“you’re doing great, jungwon,” you whispered into his shoulder. “you really are.”

he chuckled, his breath tickling your ear. “thanks… i’m learning from the best.”

you pulled back slightly to look at him, grinning. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “i’ll keep getting better,” he promised.

“i know you will,” you replied, your heart full of warmth.

and as you walked the rest of the way home, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but think that even though jungwon was still new to this whole relationship thing, he was already perfect in your eyes.

[thr0wnawayy]

Hi l, I absolutely love your takes and I want to ask smth...I never saw anyone ask before....what was the point of Izu?

Maybe you are confused with this question, after all, in the first chapter we see (the first signal of delulu) he wanted to be a hero and became one ...

And got suffering

Suffering

And oh yes sure, suffering.

Like ...what this helps in the narrative?

"he is there to cheer for abusers" something Izu haters say but ... honestly, that isn't correct as many people in this story cheer for Endy or Aizawa. Izu is not even needed for that.

I know we can't read Hori's mind to know what was the point....and we do know he doesn't hide his disdain for Izu....but like, in canon, he is just there to suffer and his suffering adds nothing.

"to show how corrupt the hero society is"

We have plenty of examples like that...Izu is really not needed.

So...again, why?

It's just tiring seeing him feeling worthless and people all validating this feeling. Why? No one knows nor cares.

The problem with Midoriya is it feels like he never actually works for anything.

Excluding for a moment the very real possibility of 'learned helplessnes'.

After Gran Torino, when do we see Midoriya work for anything? What does he accomplish?

Nothing, he gets nothing and he works for nothing.

Sure he worked for OFA but after that, he kind of stagnates. But admittedly it's not his fault entirely, The (very small) world of MHA seemed intent on screwing him over at every given opportunity.

Aizawa and the rest of UA is fucking useless as an institution. Throwing untrained child soldiers out on patrol and seeing what sticks. How nobody has died yet, idk.

One Ao3 commenter said it best:

"UA is a horrible learning environment where I wouldn't be able to trust anyone and would very quickly grow paranoid and grow/hold grudges against "stronger" students because every loses against them could mean my expulsion for being "too weak".

"Also, he uses his quirk all willy-nilly without caring about the potential lethality of such usage (you have a quirk like Denki's that stockpiled something like electricity, he uses his quirk on you, the stockpiled electricity goes haywire and kill you and several other people nearby or you risk losing years of accumulated energy.) OFA could have lost all it's accumulated energy.)"

Everything Midoriya does feels pointless because there's no reward. Midoriya receives zero acknowledgement or recognition and the viewers are given no payoff.

His classmates ignore him, or make some comment on his failings/pain but never act.

Aizawa seems to single him out constantly, while the rest of the staff, even All Might seem content to twiddling their thumbs as Aizawa continuously tramples over the rules of student-teacher conduct.

(no aggressive physical contact, no verbal abuse, etc)

Midoriya is the centerpiece and that's precisely why Hori tried to use him to prop up the abusive cash cows. It's narrative gaslighting 101.

"If the protagonist says it, then it must be correct"

I'm going to be honest, Midoriya was always a vessel for the plot but he at least had character. That's why so many people jumped ship when the Dark Deku are turned out to be a total bust.

Because there was no reason go engage in story that can't respect it's roots (original premise)

He was given power up after power up with no thought on what came before

By the logic of OFA being a stockpiler, Flight should be the strongest quirk out of all of them. Gearshift should be the weakest. It makes no sense until you account for Hori's "subtle" sexism *and I have no idea if it's intended or borne of ignorance.

It was supposed to be "This was how I became the greatest hero"

Not "How we repeated the sins of the father"

That's why Midoriya fails as a protagonist, as a character. Because MHA doesn't have a protagonist, it doesnt have a hero. Just a bunch of super-powered SWAT celebrities covering eachothers asses.

Mha was a story about focusing on the victims .

And ended as a story about the abusers.

[duplicitywrites]

Does fandom feel very different to you now than it did pre-2020? This could be a rather myopic viewpoint- I’m in college, so I’m young enough to have never really lived in times where fandom was ridiculed or whatever, but it still felt fringe-like in 2019. I’d go to school and chat about fanfic and fan art with my nerd friends, but fandom did not feel omnipresent in the mainstream- not just fan art or fanfic ( which is still 100% fringe like ) but fandom discussions too. Now swifties get mentioned on the news and crap. Perhaps that’s a bad example since Taylor swift is….Taylor swift, but I feel like a fandom that big and powerful wouldn’t have even formed pre 2020. Swifties certainly existed, but even in 2014, they would not be mentioned in the news.

i'm afraid i can only confirm your viewpoint as myopic because my friends weren't fandom nerds haha. the only other person i knew who read fanfic was this one guy in my year who i think only read what i wrote because he had a crush on me. which, well. not sure if that actually counts 😂

i first started engaging in fandom at large around... 2012? i think? or maybe sooner than that, i don't remember anymore. i used to rp on facebook LMAO but my later fandom experience mostly centers around tumblr and discord.

now that fandom is mainstream it really does feel omnipresent. people as a whole have changed. but to circle back to your other point — swifties have history that relates to this, because taylor used do private fan sessions (screenings)? of her album before release, and i think a majority of those fans were selected from social media, tumblr in particular, because she was active here. you can imagine how that made the parasocial aspect was even worse.

this stuff predated 2020s but it did drive a significant amount of fan behaviour. and ik not every celebrity is taylor swift, but you see a lot of that continues to be replicated because modern fandom is about 🚨 ATTENTION 🚨! so it's quantity over quality, anything that isn't an immediate massive hit gets dismissed, etc. then the stuff that does make the news so to speak gets exploited to death until people are sick of it, which again, you know, takes us back to taylor swift.

things are better when i can just enjoy my little guys in peace. which i do! or try to do. it's difficult because the rest of the world seems to want less and less to operate like that.

all this to say i think fandom can still be close to the way it was. it can still be fringe, with you and your friends in a group hanging out. you just have to block out the noise and really make that space for yourself. then you can still decide how much you want to engage with the rest of it.