#this is not the conscious train of thought obviously

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

anyway tonight in fucked up doctor/yaz thoughts (because there is no way i can spin this story that they won find a way to make it a little fucked up) (perhaps bc thats the nature of stories who knows): 

what if 14 decides to transition bc of like,,,the doctors feelings for humans are more idolisation than anything else + regret over missed time and chances with yaz + desire to distance themself from their 10 self

[scuderiahalf]

middle man — arthur leclerc

pairing. arthur leclerc x ferrari driver!fem!reader

summary. you never set out to date your teammate's brother. in fact, it took arthur months just to convince you to go on a single date, but charles' opinion of you hit an all time low after he became aware of your relationship and nothing you did seemed to help mend your previously strong partnership. when charles takes it a step too far, you decide that you’ve had enough of it. 6.7k, 18+

warnings. injury, descriptions of injury, smut, dom/sub dynamic (sub!reader), fingering (fem receiving), impact play, penetrative sex, mirror sex

. . .

The slightest of contact was all it took. That was all it ever took. One second, you were making the overtake for P2, and the next, you were in the wall.

There was barely time to brace. Barely any time to hit the brakes. Reaction time was trained, drilled, conditioned into you until it became second nature. Thank god it was, otherwise, you might not have walked away from this one.

Your ears were ringing when you opened you eyes after impact. Your vision was swimming but you were conscious. You heard the cadence of the question in your ear more than you could actually understand the words being said.

Are you okay? Y/N, are you okay?

You weren't really sure if you were but your mind went to those that were watching the race, your fans, your team, your family, your friends. Arthur. They needed to hear you say that you were okay. The gritty details could come later.

"I'm good. We're good. That was a rough one, huh?"

You're sure that the pain was still evident in your voice. It was unavoidable after however many Gs of force you just withstood in that crash. You turned the engine off, took a moment to center yourself.

You had crashed. You were a Formula One driver. It was the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, the fourth race of your second season with Ferrari after your Haas contract expired two years ago.

Your boyfriend's name was Arthur Leclerc. Privately (and jokingly), you called him Artie because it made him cringe and you thought it was funny. He was your teammate's little brother.

He was the first person to make it to the circuit medical center after you had been loaded into the medical car. He was shaking as he hugged you, not from fear but from restraint, not wanting to hurt you by squeezing you as tightly as he wanted to.

"You are okay? Tell me you are okay."

"I'm fine, baby."

"I could strangle Max Verstappen sometimes. 'Leave the space' must only apply to others."

"Arthur, it's okay. It's just part of the sport."

He looked you over for a moment more before catching your mouth in a searing kiss. It spoke volumes, and you understood exactly what he meant by it.

I deeply respect your love of the sport but I would burn the FIA and the whole world to the ground if it meant keeping you safe.

"I love you," he said when he pulled back.

"Je t'aime," you returned.

That exchange of I love you's in your and Arthur's respective native languages of English and French had been a staple of your relationship since very early on. Your first "I love you" had been in each other's mother tongue. It had stuck ever since.

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes,” you insisted, “A little dizzy, but okay.”

“Dizzy? You did not say you were dizzy.” That was the doctor that had checked you for any signs of a concussion.

You turned to face her. “Yes, but I had—“

You lost your balance as you turned. Your typical coordination escaped you and Arthur had to catch you to stop you from tipping sideways.

The doctor pulled out a phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. You’re going to the hospital.”

“I’m fine—“

“Mon coeur, please sit down,” Arthur urged.

Your calm but obviously worried boyfriend refused to leave your side even when it meant leaving for the hospital before the end of the race. You tried to convince him to stay for his brother but he wasn’t having it.

In the hospital room after you had completed all the precautionary brain scans, Arthur checked his phone.

"Maman is asking about you," he said. "Lorenzo, too."

You both took note of the lack of another of his family member’s text message, but you had grown all too used to it. It was easier not to comment on it.

"Tell them I'm fine."

"I will tell them we are waiting on your test results."

"Don’t worry them. I’m fine, Arthur.”

"We will know that once they have gotten their results."

Arthur had a very convincing poker face but this needless argument showed how concerned he truly was. He kept worrying his bottom lip between his teeth whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

You tugged on your intertwined hands to pull him closer. “Hey. I’ll be fine. It’s probably just a concussion.”

“You cannot know.”

“Then, call it positive thinking.”

Before anything more could be said, the doctor returned with the results of your tests.

You were okay, only a concussion as you had thought. You had a fair amount of bruising and a bit of whiplash to commemorate one of the worst crashes of your career but other than that, you seemed fine.

They still wanted to keep you overnight for observation but you should recover in a timely fashion.

When the doctor left, you only had time to shoot Arthur an “I told you so” look before his phone started ringing. The caller ID showed his second eldest brother’s name.

He answered in French, a language you knew almost fluently after living in Monaco since your rookie season. You had really buckled down to learn the language after beginning to date Arthur.

“Hello? ... I am at the hospital with Y/N. … I know but congratulations on third. Sorry I missed the celebrations.”

You couldn’t hear what Charles was saying, only your boyfriend’s responses. It was now over two hours since the end of the race. Charles must have only just gotten time to call Arthur.

“I know I am, but Y/N was dizzy and the doctor was concerned and I couldn’t just leave her. … She is part of Ferrari, too. I have a duty to both her and the team. … I was not needed at the garage. … And I said I’m sorry I missed your podium but I wasn’t going to leave her alone. What if something happened?”

You sunk back into your hospital bed. They were fighting again. Because of you.

You and Charles had been rookies together back in 2018. You had started your F1 career at Williams before moving through Haas to where you were now, your second year at Ferrari.

You were a handful of years younger than Charles and he had always treated you like a little sister. When you got the Ferrari contract, Charles was over the moon. You remember him going on a half hour tangent about how much fun it would be having you as a teammate, how excited he was for the next two years.

Charles adored you. At least, he used to, before you and Arthur told him you had started seeing each other.

Since then, Ferrari has been a minefield.

Charles was distant and cold. He stopped sending TikToks and stopped laughing at your memes. He unfollowed you on Instagram for about a week before the Ferrari PR team made him follow you again.

The PR department was working well past overtime thanks to you and Charles. You had learned not to try and approach him even when there were cameras around because he would continue to ignore you and it would further fuel the drama mill.

You missed your friend. You missed the fun you two had last year as teammates.

Now, you were with Arthur. And you loved him. And he made you so happy. But you missed being able to talk to Charles without him looking at you like you were the gum on the bottom of his shoe.

Arthur’s voice had gotten sharper the longer he spoke to Charles. “Not that you bothered to ask but Y/N is fine, by the way. We had to go to the hospital to scan her brain and make sure but she would be. Not like you’d care.”

Arthur hung up and tossed his phone onto a table where he couldn’t reach it. You reached out for his hand and he took it, kissing your knuckles and sighing deeply.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“Do not apologize. This is not your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

“It is not. It is Charles being impossible for no reason. Before we were dating, he—“

He adored you. He called you mon ange. He praised your driving any time he could. He invited you to dinners with his family, which was how you got to know Arthur outside of racing.

Now, Charles couldn’t stand the sight of you. It hurt, you weren’t going to lie. Charles was your teammate and friend, but more importantly, he was Arthur’s brother.

You didn’t feel it was your place to try and close the gap gouged between you and Charles, not when he was Arthur’s family. You didn’t want to complicate things further, didn’t want to try and repair your friendship before the bond between brothers was mended.

“Maybe…”

You lacked the confidence to continue your thought. You didn’t want to suggest what you were about to, even if it could potentially fix everything.

You were selfish when it came to Arthur. You didn’t like sharing him and you especially didn’t want to let him go.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

“What? No? No. Why? No. Why would you want to—? Have I done something wrong? Why would you say that?”

You were quick to reassure him. “No, no, no, baby, it’s not that. I was just thinking that it might be a good idea to take a bit of time and come back to this in the off season. When Charles can separate me as your girlfriend from me as his teammate.”

“No,” he insisted. “No. I do not want him to ruin this any more than he already has. I do not want to take a break.”

“Okay. That’s okay. It was just a suggestion.” One that you were thankful Arthur objected to so vehemently.

“It is a dumb suggestion. I do not want a break. I will never want a break from you.”

“Okay.”

You let him lean in and kiss you. It seemed that Arthur was selfish with you, as well.

.

You were no stranger to Charles Leclerc’s yacht. You had spent many nights attending parties hosted by your friend on his impressive vessel and even more days lounging around or exploring islands along the Monaco coast.

But ever since Charles found out about you and Arthur, you hadn’t been invited back. Until the weekend between races, a week after your crash.

And you hadn’t exactly been invited, it was more that Charles had been told by his mother that you would be spending the day with the family and there was no getting out of it. Though, as the day stretched on and tensions grew higher, you were really wishing that you were the one who could have gotten out of going.

Your concussion wasn’t as severe as originally feared. Your ribs were still tender and the skin of your torso bruised but you were set to race at Miami next week as long as your checkup in a few days went well.

Arthur sat down beside you on the large daybed you had taken to reading on. It was shaded and secluded enough to be comfortable but not so far from the main seating area that you couldn’t easily rejoin the larger group. It was where you had usually set up camp whenever aboard Charles’ yacht.

Your boyfriend handed you the fizzy, non-alcoholic beverage you had requested. He accepted a kiss as gratuity.

“What are you reading?”

“One of those spicy fantasy novels you make fun of me for.”

“Oh, the porn books.”

“They’re not porn books!”

Arthur just laughed because he liked teasing you. He laid his head in your lap. You, of course, let him because you were not actually upset.

You smoothed the hair off his forehead lovingly.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not hurting?”

“No. I’ve been doing my stretches and using bruise cream. I’ll be right as rain next weekend.”

Arthur seemed pleased with that answer. “Will you read to me?”

You regarded the content on the page you were open to. “I’m not exactly at a publicly appropriate chapter.”

“Am I not a better option than ink on paper?”

“You are not always readily available.”

“You are far more busy than me. You are always away from me.”

“Exactly. I need something to do with all my free time in my hotel room. All alone. Just me. And my hands all over… my latest smutty book.”

“You kill me, woman,” Arthur groaned, sitting up to kiss you.

You let out a peel of laughter when Arthur pushed you onto your back. You two were not in the habit of making your close friends and family uncomfortable with excessive PDA, so Arthur abandoned kissing you to pin you down, gentle and conscientious of your torso.

“Okay! Okay, you’re better!”

Arthur leaned down over you. “Better than what?”

“You’re better than my books.”

“Good.”

He kissed you, then wiggled his fingers against your neck to make you shriek.

“Arthur, Y/N. Come eat!” Pascale called the two of you over to the group.

Arthur helped you sit up, then held out a hand to help you down the steps to the deck below because god forbid you take the three stairs on your own. You didn’t mind; you liked that he wanted to help you, even with things you didn’t need him for.

You smiled at Arthur, able to forget about the Leclerc civil war for a moment. Then, you turned toward where everyone else was sitting in the main seating area.

Charles was glaring daggers.

Your stomach dropped. You pulled your hand free from Arthur’s to fix your hair then didn’t take it again when you were done.

Arthur looked at you odd, noticed where you were glancing. He glared back just as hard at his older brother.

“Arthur,” you muttered in reproach.

“If maman was not here, I swear I would smack him across the face.”

“Arthur, please.”

After the race in Azerbaijan was over, after podium celebrations and post-race interviews, Charles had spoken a little too loudly about how it was your fault that you had crashed, that it was what happened when you "still drive like a rookie five years into your career."

The video that some random clubgoer had managed to capture of your teammate badmouthing you while you spent the night in the hospital for observation had gone more than a little viral.

To hear him talk about you like that just made you sad. You didn't have the energy to be mad over it.

Arthur did not share those feelings. When he first saw the video, it was everything you could do to keep Arthur from charging halfway across Monaco to kick his brother's door in. Instead, you anxiously sat on the couch in your living room as he and his brother shouted at each other over the phone.

If it wasn't for Pascale's not at all subtle attempts to get her boys to make up, you and Arthur never would have come today. But she was your boyfriend's mother. She would not accept a refusal of her invitation for today.

You ended up sat beside Arthur and about as far from Charles as possible as sandwiches and chips were passed around. You kept making eye contact with Pascale, awkwardly smiling whenever you did before glancing away.

"Charles, do you have any more wine on this boat?" Pascale asked.

Charles stood. "I'll go get some."

"Arthur, why don't you help your brother?"

You held your breath. You truly admired the balls on that woman, and the unapologetically obvious pursuit of making her sons make up. When you glanced at Arthur, almost hopeful, you saw the dark edge to his gaze as he looked at his brother; he was still too angry to be left alone with Charles.

You didn't believe Arthur would actually slap or physically harm Charles in any way but things would not be made better by Arthur confronting his brother right now.

"I'll help," you said before Arthur had to respond. "Lead the way, Charlie."

You false enthusiasm shriveled into nothingness by the time you reached the stairs down to the bar. You trailed after him below deck, staying several paces behind.

Charles was silent as he began opening cupboards. He hadn't so much as looked at you when you took his younger brother's place in assisting him.

"Charles, I—"

"I do not want to hear it, Y/N."

You swallowed around the nervousness trying to clog up your throat. "Are you ever going to let me explain?"

"There is nothing to explain. You are my teammate. Arthur is my brother. You both go behind my back to start dating each other and do not care of what it will affect."

"Believe me, we've talked about it. At length. We know it's a risk."

"And you do not care," Charles concluded, ducking down below the bar and out of view as he continued his search.

"No, we decided it was worth it." You took a breath. "I don't know how to talk about how in love with your brother I am without making you uncomfortable but if I had to choose between him and racing, I would hesitate."

That statement may not sound all that impressive but Charles had once said to you—after many, many drinks following a successful race weekend for Ferrari—that he would know he truly loved a woman if when he had to choose between her and never racing again, he hesitated.

As a fellow driver, you understood exactly what he meant. That was what you felt for Arthur. That was what the youngest Leclerc meant to you. That was how hopelessly in love you were.

"I love Arthur, I really do. And I know it's messy and complicated and whatever else but I don't care about that. At the end of the day, I am happier with Arthur than I have been in a really long time."

Charles was silent behind the bar. He was still ducked down. It felt like you were monologuing to an empty room. It made it a little easier to continue.

"While I am willing to put a little strain on my career for my relationship, what I have never wanted to put strain on is your relationship with your brother. I never wanted anything like this to happen.

“I never wanted to go behind your back. I never would have pursued my feelings for Arthur if he hadn’t been so persistent but he wore me down and I couldn’t tell him no.

“I am truly sorry for breaking your trust. But I cannot stop loving your brother. I will not let him go just because you cannot accept us, despite all the difficulties it may come with.”

Two bottles of wine appeared on the bar top just before Charles stood upright again. He still would not look at you.

"If you can't forgive me for pursuing a member of your family, that's fine. I understand. But Arthur is your little brother; do not throw that away because of me.

"Hate me. Be mad at me. Ignore me on media days. Unfollow all my socials. Make the entire world think you despise me. I don't care; just don't take it out on Arthur.

"I am not worth you two falling out."

You nearly jumped out of your skin when Charles finally looked you in the eye. You held his gaze, imploring him to listen to what you were saying.

His expression did not change the longer he surveyed you. Then, he took the bottles of wine, walked right past you without another word, and went back above deck.

.

"That is it?" Arthur asked as you recounted the events to him later that night.

He was sat on the lid of the toilet as you washed your face before you two were going to settle in to watch a movie.

"Then, I told him I'm not worth you two falling out over and he walked away. Without a word. Just back up the stairs and that was that."

"You are."

"Are what?"

"Worth falling out over."

You sighed. "Arthur—"

"You are. I am serious."

"Arthur, I'm not going anywhere. You don’t have to choose between me and Charles; I don’t want you to.”

“I am not losing you because of him.”

“I’m not asking you to compromise. I’m not letting you go because of Charles, either, but we have to try and make this work. He’s your brother. That has to mean something to you.”

“He is being unreasonable.”

“Have you even tried to talk to him about it? Or have you just been pretending nothing’s changed?”

“Nothing has changed," he said stubbornly.

“Okay, that's one of the problems."

"It should not matter that we're dating."

"No, it should. And it does. I'm dating my teammate's brother; that is going to change some things. You do recall the HR meeting all of us had to suffer through, don't you?"

Shortly after telling Charles of your relationship, you and Arthur had gone to Ferrari to make them aware as well. There had been no major backlash from the team but there had been a several-hours-long meeting with HR and PR that you, Arthur, and Charles all had to be present for.

Arthur physically shuddered at the memory. "Do not remind me."

"Us being together changes things. You cannot ignore it and hope everything will blow over."

"He hasn't even apologized to you."

"Worry about me later. Fix your relationship with your brother before it's too late."

"Y/N, you are not understanding. I cannot fix my relationship with Charles if he is going to speak of you like he did in that video. If he is going to treat you like he has been, nothing is going to be fixed."

"He's your brother—"

"And you are l'amour de ma vie. I do not care that he is my brother; I will not tolerate anyone speaking of you in such a way. I cannot remove you from the situation. I cannot make up with him until he stops treating you horrible.”

You had not realized Arthur’s view on the whole situation. You supposed it made sense now that you thought about it.

Charles was generally being mean to you, not his brother. When the two youngest Leclercs argued, it was over you. Charles seemed convinced that you would never prioritize Arthur or his career over yourself or your own.

True, you would never give up your seat for Arthur, but you wouldn’t do that for anyone. Should the time ever come where Arthur got an F1 seat, you would never give him anything; he would have to work just as hard as anyone else to race against you. That was racing.

You do not think that Charles meant anything to that extreme of a degree. He perhaps meant that Arthur would seldom be prioritized in place of a career in F1, period, but you and Arthur were on the same page about that.

You had spoken in length about it. You had laid everything on the table a few months into your relationship and spoke about it all until you reached a true and total understanding.

And Charles… Well, Charles would always see Arthur as his baby brother, as someone to protect, as someone who is young and unknowing of the world even if he was snugly into his twenties.

“You need to speak to him. Really speak to him. Talk everything through.”

“He needs to apologize, first. Then, and only then, will I talk things out.”

“You are. So. Stubborn,” you growled at him, jokingly pretending to choke him in your frustration.

“If I was not, how would I keep you in check?”

He slid his hand right up under your oversized sleep shirt to hold your core in his palm. Your freshly washed face went a little pink.

“I don’t need to be kept in check,” you said indignantly.

“Don’t you? You always seem to find some way to misbehave and then I have to punish you for it. You know how I hate to punish you.”

“Don't lie. You love my punishments as much as I do.”

He rubbed his hand over the cloth of your panties, pushed his fingers between your closed thighs to prod over the fabric at where you had already started to ache for him. It took so little to get you worked up, just a few touches and some dirty words and you were ready to melt into any mold Arthur wanted.

“Backtalk.” He clicked his tongue at you. “Already misbehaving.”

“I’m debating my point. That is not misbehaving. You’re just being mean.”

“Keep talking and I can show you how mean I can be.”

“That’s not fair—“

You didn’t get to finish your thought before Arthur stood and pushed you against the bathroom counter. Your thighs dug into the edge of the counter as Arthur pressed against your back, hips nestled into the soft curve of your ass.

“Arthur—"

"Hm?"

He slowly slid your hair out of the way. The collar of your ancient sleep shirt was easily stretched to the side so Arthur could kiss the bare skin of his shoulder. His teeth bit into the curve of your neck just enough to feel but not hurt.

You whined, pushed your hips back into him. "Don't tease."

He slid a hand up to your neck, met your eye in the mirror. "Be patient."

He held you there until you nodded your understanding. Only then did he hitch the back of your shirt up to slip his hand inside your panties from behind.

He grabbed a handful of your ass. You exhaled a soft moan.

You hadn't been intimate since the Monday before the Azerbaijan GP, meaning it was pushing two weeks since Arthur had touched you. You were ready to fall apart and he hadn't even really touched you yet.

"Arthur, s'il te plaît."

In the mirror, you could see him smirk at your French. He had told you before that he liked when you spoke to him in French, that he thought your accent was cute.

You knew it was a totally indulgent way to get what you wanted but you didn't care; it worked. His fingers slid between your folds, feeling how slick and ready you were for him.

He cursed into your shoulder, slipping into French to say, "So wet for me—fuck, Y/N."

"Want you, baby. Please."

"Want me? Want me where?"

"Inside me."

"So lewd, mon coeur," he teased. "You're so needy tonight."

"You started it."

"And I will stop it if you are not grateful for what I am giving you."

He pulled his hand out of your underwear and you whined. You reached back to slide a hand into his hair.

"No, please, I'm sorry. Please, don't stop."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. "I will take care of you. You do not need to beg."

He pulled your panties down until you could kick them off to the side. He gently ran a hand over your stomach and ribs. Arthur was always conscientious of you, especially when you were injured.

"Can you bend over for me?"

You did so immediately, elbows coming to rest on the sink counter. Your shirt slid up off your hips to hang loosely around your waist. You felt your arousal hit the air in the bathroom, the chill making you shift your hips.

"So good for me. My good girl."

You could cry from the praise and the fact that his fingers still were not inside of you that exact second. You were embarrassingly worked up.

Arthur seemed to take pity on you, circling his thumb on your clit a few times before slipping a finger into you. Just one was nowhere near enough to fill you up but you dropped your head onto your arms and moaned.

He kissed your backside, knelt down behind you. "So noisy, amour."

Any snarky response you may have had died in your throat when he pressed a second finger into you. That was enough for a bit of a stretch that had you pushing your hips back against his hand.

"Stay still," Arthur warned.

You really did try to listen to him but after slowly scissoring you open with two fingers, he introduced a third and started really finger fucking you. You pressed your forehead against the counter, not able to stop yourself from pushing back into him again, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers, searching for something that would stretch you further, reach deeper into you.

He pulled his fingers out of you. Your whine was cut short when he slapped your bared cunt with the same soaked fingers that were just inside of you.

"You are so fucking impatient."

"Just want you."

"Yeah? You want me so bad you cannot even stay still and let me stretch you out? You want to be torn open by my cock?"

You whimpered. That was exactly what you wanted.

He slapped your pussy again. "Huh? Is that what you want?"

You raised your head just enough to be able to watch as Arthur pushed his shorts down. You couldn't see as he pulled his cock free with him stood behind you but you definitely felt it when he pressed his tip against your prepped entrance.

"Oh, fuck—"

He entered you in a swift motion. You choked around a moan.

He was gentle with his arms as he pulled you back against him but ruthless with his hips as he fucked into you without relent. He didn’t press on your bruised torso but he did get a hand around your throat to make you watch yourself in the mirror.

Your dynamic was like this. He was in charge and you loved that. He could hit you, fuck you hard, have you screaming, begging, crying, but where it truly mattered, he would always be gentle with you. His dominance was not just for him; he was always cognizant of your current state and how you were feeling in the moment.

“Arthur.” You breathed his name like a moan, like a prayer.

He kissed your neck, then your cheek. “So good for me.”

Arthur set the pace slow and deep. You could feel him nudging your cervix, stretching you open, the tug of your walls against his cock making you ache for him even more. You were a moaning mess for him in mere moments.

He coaxed you through your first orgasm like that, fucking you slowly from behind as you watched yourselves in the bathroom mirror, his hand between your thighs to push you along. Your legs shook and Arthur held you upright as he kept the torturous pace all the way through your climax.

“You have a bit more in you, amour. Yes?” he asked, still moving his hips as the continued stimulation was making you squirm.

You felt you could barely catch your breath but you nodded anyway. “Yes.”

Arthur hummed, pleased. “Good girl. Bend over.”

If your first orgasm was for you, the second was surely for Arthur. Sex was always a game of give and take with him. Though, even when he was taking, you were always being given so much.

As soon as he had you bent over again, he gripped your hips, adjusted his own, then started fucking into you fast and hard. You grabbed onto the counter to steady yourself, let your head drop onto the quartz as you went pliant and easy.

You were shaking from the overstimulation, from not getting a break between your first high and the second that Arthur was making you chase.

“Come on, amour. Come on.”

His pace was just uneven enough for you to become aware that he was definitely close. He was waiting for you.

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing out another wave of pleasure that had you trembling against the counter. Your head felt light, legs literally giving out and you would have fallen to your knees if Arthur wasn’t still gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, strong arming you into staying on your feet.

You cried his name and your body went slack. Arthur fucked you through your second high and past it, stroked himself out with your body and buried himself deep inside of you as he came.

You mewled at the feeling, at the depth and the spurting warmth. Arthur smoothed a hand up your spine to soothe you. He whispered praises and pressed kisses into your skin until you came back to Earth, getting your legs back underneath you.

"Welcome back, mon coeur."

You could hear the proud grin in his words but could only give a weak groan in response as you pushed yourself upright. Arthur helped you up, then sat you on the bathroom counter and kissed you sweetly before setting to cleaning you up.

He scooped you up into his arms once you were clean and dressed to carry you out to the living room.

"I can still walk," you told him but still happily wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, leaning against his chest.

"I'll have to do better next time, then."

Arthur set you on the couch. He told you to stay as he bustled around getting popcorn and drinks ready.

"What do you want to watch?" you asked.

"Whatever you want."

"Don't give me that kind of power," you mumbled to yourself.

You didn't giving in to the temptation to queue up some cringeworthy romcom you know Arthur would hate. He had given you enough tonight. You could be nice about the movie choice.

You made it through maybe half of the movie (some new Netflix film you thought looked decent) when there was a knock at the door. It was a soft noise, almost hesitant.

You shared a look with your boyfriend before you both checked your phones to make sure you hadn't missed a text from someone letting you know they were on their way over. You both came up blank.

Despite it being your apartment, Arthur pushed you down when you went to stand and ran to answer the door himself. You couldn't quite see the door from the couch, so you strained your ears to listen.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, not quite unkindly but certainly not happy.

"I went to maman's. You were not there."

Charles. Why had he showed up at your door unannounced this late in the evening?

"I've been staying with Y/N most of the time."

Silence followed. It was painful just eavesdropping on the two brothers. You nearly got to your feet to approach them and attempt to mediate but Arthur beat you to it.

"What do you want, Charles?"

More silence. You don't think you were breathing, scared if you made yourself known it would ruin whatever was about to happen.

"I wanted to apologize," Charles eventually said.

"Apologize?"

You bit your cheek to stop from screeching with joy. Finally—finally! You were so ready for this whole thing to be over with. Even if it took some subtle guilt tripping on your part, you were more than pleased at the outcome.

"For how I've been treating you since you told me about you and Y/N. Is she here?"

"Yes."

"Yes, well, it is her apartment, no?" Charles tried for a weak laugh but Arthur did not take mercy and join him. "Er, well... I—I shouldn't have been so quick to judge you two. I was upset, at first, that you had hidden it from me.

"I forget that you are an adult and you have pursued your own career and you do not need protecting from people who might try to take advantage of you—not that I believe Y/N would do such a thing!"

You cringed. This could go downhill really fast considering Arthur's protective streak over you.

"Yes, I am an adult. How you feel will not dictate my relationship. But how you treat Y/N will dictate my relationship with you. How can you speak of her like you have? She has been your friend for so long."

"I know what it has been like for you to constantly be compared to me. I know it has been difficult for you and I have become paranoid in my fame that someone will use the people I care about to get to me."

"That is ridiculous. Y/N is just as well-known as you, if not more. And she knew you before she knew me—how does any of this make sense, Charles?"

Arthur had a point but you could understand where Charles was coming from. It was always a fear in your own mind that something may happen to or someone might try to take advantage of your family or your friends because they were in connection with you.

"It doesn't," Charles admitted. "It doesn't make any sense. I was being stupid. I assumed the worst—thought Y/N was using you to mess with my head—and refused to see it any other way and I never should have treated Y/N as I have been or said what I have about her.

"She is one of the most talented drivers I have ever driven alongside. She is the kindest person I know. She has been my friend for years longer than she has been dating you. I should not have let my judgement be so clouded by my own fear.

"I am sorry, Arthur. And if Y/N is here, I would like to apologize to her, as well."

It was quiet for several moments. You waited in silence, still holding your breath. Had you breathed at all since Charles started apologizing? Was Arthur going to say anything? Was he just standing there?

There was the rustle of fabric followed by the telltale sighs of relief that accompanied a much needed hug. You exhaled and slumped back against the couch. Thank God.

It was long overdue that the youngest Leclercs made up. Thankfully, Charles knew his brother well enough to know that you must also be apologized to if things were ever going to get better.

"Y/N?" Arthur called.

You suddenly remembered that you had been eavesdropping the whole time. Charles had no idea you were just around the corner in your living room. You had heard the entirety of Charles' apology, even the things not meant for your ears.

You cleared your throat. "Yes?"

"Do you think Charles should be forgiven?"

You laughed and went to join the brothers in the foyer. "I absolutely do. Do I get a hug, too?"

Charles' face was red but he seemed to find the humor in the situation, too. He opened his arms for you and wrapped you in a tight embrace.

"I am sorry, Y/N. I know you would never purposefully try to hurt me or my brother. I was rash in my understanding of the situation."

"It's okay, Charlie. I just missed my friend."

"I'm sorry." Charles squeezed you tight once more before letting you go.

When you stepped back into Arthur, he let his arm slip around your waist. He kissed the side of your head. You leaned into him, too pleased with the outcome of tonight to fret much over PDA in front of Charles.

For the first time, Charles didn't seem deeply disturbed by your affection. However, he did sigh faux irritably.

"You two are way too cute together. It was so difficult to be mad at you sometimes."

You and Arthur laughed.

"I am serious! You should see yourselves."

Despite knowing it was an inappropriate train of thought to entertain in front of your boyfriend's brother, you couldn't help but think back to just about an hour ago and how you had watched yourselves through the bathroom mirror.

"Oh, we have," Arthur said, innuendo lost on his brother but not on you.

You smacked him in the chest. Arthur just laughed. Luckily, Charles seemed none the wiser.

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Bau x reader , where the reader is in an abusive relationship

Warnings: abusive relationship , blood , slightly yandere bau , gn reader , could be perceived as a poly bau

Summary: you are in an abusive relationship and when you call Hotch crying , they all rush to your side

The people in this team are smart and their job is literally to be observing

They obviously notice your change of behavior the moment you step out of the elevator the day you had met him/her

The energy you gave of , the way you talked and even your choice of clothes made them assume you had met someone. They totally DIDNT feel jealous at all

But you seemed happy and they had no control over you

Penelope was the one to ask and learn about the charming kind man you just met.

So the was the one who informed the others

She stalked all of his accounts and pulled out his criminal records (that were clean) his financial state and everything about him

Not even two weeks after you entered the building with a new air on you

You were shining in happiness

Everyone could feel It and everyone knew

Morgan definitely did not do an extra harsh box training that evening with Enily

And Spencer obviously did not complain to Hotch about it all day

And hotch certainly didn't almost tear apart a book in frustation

Also Penelope did not cry on JJ s shoulder and neither did the opposite happen

Then , one day exactly one month later you were gloomy

The team almost held an interrogation to find out why

Turns out your boyfriend and you had just had a super intense fight that ended up in yelling

They were quick to offer you to spent the night with one of them

Or they could book a hotel room for you

You declined saying you need to solve this out

This went on for a long of time

The weather became worst day by day and you were the first one on the team to wear a long sleeved shirt

They didn't think much of it

Your mood was drastically changing , your once bubbly and happy personality disappearing

They were all extremely worried but they didn't know what could have caused it

' Do you think it's that boyfriend of theirs?'

Morgan asked once . They all appeared worried at the thought

JJ was sent to ask you about your relationship but you quite convincingly talked in excitement and contempt about it

They were obviously worried sick ,but could do nothing about it , since they had no idea what the problem was

When they were all out together , Hotch received a call by you

You were crying and stuttering your words

' Hotch' you breathed out

' y/n? Where are you?what has happened?'

He asked and all the others gazes fell on him , their faces twisting in confusion

' I -uhhh I am on my apartment. He has left but I'm hurting a lot. Please come help'

You had said. Calling Hotch was a conscious decision since he was definitely a safe person to you and the whole team.

While Morgan could beat someone up easier and Emily was a very violent person when needed , Aaron just had this energy that he gave off.

He could protect you and you knew it

They all hoped In two cars and were to your in no time.

You were lying on the floor sobbing , with blood around you

Spencer was the one to check up on you , covering your wounds

While JJ called the police

Morgan along with Penelope were frozen on the doorway

And Aaron was right by your side pushing your hair out of your face and whispering in your ear

You were badly hurt

The paramedics arrived and Spencer rode the ambulance with you.

Penelope and Aaron followed with their car while the other three remained on your apartment

They decided to clean it up, JJ bringing the chemicals to remove the blood , while Morgan angrily scrubbed the floor

' How could he? '

Whispered Emily enraged

Then they heard keys on the door

' Honey I am so sorry for what happened, but look I brought you flo-'

A man entered the apartment and appeared shocked to find your colleagues there

Morgan had risen up staring at the man with deep hatred in his eyes

Let's say that the man returned to his house with a lot of bruises , a bunch of threats and two days later his computer caught a virus

You were in the hospital, getting better

Penelope was in the chair besides your bed working something on her computer

Once you were woken up and not high, you received a lot of hugs and sweet words

When you could finally return home they all sat you down . You knew this conversation was coming

' We want you to feel comfortable telling us about things that are going wrong in your life '

Hotch had said his voice and characteristics unnaturally soft.

' Why didn't you tell us?'

JJ wondered and you had no acceptable answer

The day ended in a lot of tears and hugs.

You quickly returned to your workplace where you were greeted with a cake that had wobbly written on it ' welcome back'

Thay would always remind you to be careful in the field for at least a month.

[ms0milk]

when you suddenly catch a nasty cold

gn!reader ft. todo, bkg, kiri, and (hearts in my eyes) shinsou

i am so ill and these are so silly, indulge me :,) 600ish words ea.

Todoroki starts to cry when you joke about dying.

He’s bought more flowers than can fit into your little apartment, picked up your prescriptions, tissues, juice, a heating pad, cleaned your kitchen, tucked you in– he paged the goddamned family physician– but watching you shiver under a heavy duvet surrounded by all the things that are supposed to help you get better ignites a fear he didn’t know that he had. They aren’t working. You’re still sick because of course you are, it’s only been a few hours, and still he can’t bring himself to move more than an arm’s length away from you because what if– if he leaves and–

“Shouto?”

“Yes,” his response is immediate when you pull him out of the ether. Always is.

I’m not going anywhere,” you croak, too conscious of how strange your voice sounds, “so you don’t have to stay with me all day.”

“I don’t mind.”

Todoroki is a wonderful boyfriend but when was the last time he went to the bathroom?

“You must be bored.”

He leans over you from his spot at the side of your bed and runs a blessedly too-cold hand across your forehead. Bored? Like he could calm down enough for that. “I can’t relax when you’re like this.”

You’d roll your eyes if they ached less, at your beautiful boyfriend and his cluelessly shoujo declarations of love framed by no fewer than two whole flower shops worth of camellias. He turns his hand over to palm your cheeks and wipe the water from your puffy eyes.

“Would you like me to leave?”

You shake your head, smiling under the weight of five thousand pounds of blankets and the heavy dip from his butt at the edge of your mattress. You’re inclined to reach a hand out to grab it, but you don’t have the energy to raise your head let alone fondle your boyfriend.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with in my final hours,” you rasp, joking, obviously joking.

This cold is something evil, chills, aches, snot– the works. But you couldn’t ask for a better nurse. A gentle, thoughtful, sexy, temperature controlled man, a man you would raze the city for, whose hand fits so perfectly in yours and who– whose trembling? You blink back up.

Todoroki’s features don’t shift or soften, his lip doesn’t quiver, but a tear does slip down his cheeks from those pool cool eyes– one after the next until his jaw is lined with them all patiently waiting to fall from his chin.

“Why, why why?” You panic and try to sit up but he comes to you. Todoroki cups your hand tightly in a hot and cold grip and bows over his own lap to rest his head in yours.

“You’re not going to die.”

“What?”

“I promise.”

“Sho, what– no of course I’m not. What’s wrong, baby?”

Your voice is so weak that he has no other choice than to sit back up and reach for the cold compress. He wipes his eyes with renewed determination when he turns back around, “I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, Sho. ’m not going anywhere, promise.”

And when the Todoroki family doctor lets himself in, he does consider coming back another time at the sight of you, finally comfortable under a mountain of fabric, and your love curled around you asleep on top of the blankets.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

It’s not until you genuinely collapse that Bakugou realizes something is wrong. He didn’t even hit you that hard.

“You’re wide open today!” The restless pro looms across the arena, grinning. You both come to the agency’s underground ring on Saturdays to train and he’s blasted you clear across the room like he’s actually working for a paycheck.

There wasn’t any amount of money you would have accepted to get out of bed this morning but Bakugou, a less than casual hookup from work, accidentally spent the night and the surprisingly sleep soft rumble of his voice and the gentle kneed of palms as he pulled you back against his body under dawn light– was, persuasive.

The sooner I go in, the sooner I can go home and nurse this headache.

Headache. Naive self-convincing circles your head as you pull yourself to your feet like spinning stars from a goddamned cartoon. This is not a headache. Standing was fine a second ago, and the floor was fine a second ago, but the move from floor to feet fills your sinuses with sudden pressure and immediately the arena starts to swirl.

“C’mon twinkle toes, you’re– Y/n– shit–”

You’re not interested in where that sentence ends today and blessedly you don’t have to hear it because your ears have filled with cotton and you’re sinking back down to your knees. You’ve been congested like this before– it’ll pass in a minute or two, you know how it goes and you’re only embarrassed by the fact you were down so bad for your teammate this morning that you didn’t realize how your body had started to feel.

The vertigo eases somewhat when you rest your head on the ground, but Bakugou has cleared the empty room and already has his domineering hands all over you.

“Y/n? Y/n– do not close your eyes.”

“‘m not concussed, Kats.” But you know the explosive hero’s first fear isn’t exactly a head trauma. “You didn’t hurt me,” you add.

“That doesn’t narrow it down shitforbrains, if I didn’t hurt you then what’s wrong?” His aggressive tone doesn’t match his anxious hold though, and you melt a little when he kneels and pulls you into his lap.

Bakugou definitely doesn’t like the way your head seems too heavy for your neck and tilts himself back just enough for you to lean it against his chest. You look so fucking uncomfortable, scowling, eyes pinched closed. “What hurts?” He rasps as he moves to feel your temperature but his palms are sweating hard from a few quirk ignitions so he stalls, and lowers his forehead to yours instead. You’re soft where he touches you, warm in his hands.

You just need to sit, you don't need the #2 hero to cradle you in his arms like a fallen comrade on the battlefield. Although you don't complain. Your eyes squeeze shut harder as a tiny wave rocks you in the dark and then suddenly one ear releases. “I think I’m getting sick,” you breathe. Carmel in and relief out. “It’s my head–”

“Head hurts?”

“I’m just stuffed up, I– ” the other ear releases, “– just dizzy.”

Bakugou sits on his heels, perched. Should he pick you up? Who just gets dizzy, are you a fucking Victorian child? It’s terrifying to watch– you, his teammate, a capable hero, suddenly unable to stand.

But as the pressure behind your eyes levels out you can lift your head without discomfort. You can bring your arms up around Bakugou’s shoulders and settle your fingers in his hair. Bring him back down from where he’s tried to pull away.

Your foreheads bump again, “I’m okay.”

He growls, “I don’t believe you.”

So the hero takes you home. He makes sure you’re horizontal and goddamned tucked in before he slips from your front door and scares the shit out of you an hour later with a vice grip on some grocery bags and your apartment keys slipped around his middle finger. It’s almost romantic, the way he snaps at you to hold still while he dabs antiseptic on your scratches from sparring, or glares venom from behind the stove when you hobble to the kitchen to see what smells so good.

‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

When Kirishima lets himself in and you’re asleep on the kitchen floor, worry overrides his confusion.

You won’t pick up his calls, but he’s never missed a movie night and he’s not about to start today! He throws your front door open with his copy of your apartment key still in it and kicks off his gym crocs as loudly as he can manage so you can hear him come in. The last thing he wants is to startle you.

But you’re the one who nearly kills him when he slips through the genkan, arms full of snacks and catches sight of your slippered foot stretched out on the ground behind the corner of the kitchen wall.

He’s on his hands and knees faster than he can even take a full step, dropping glass soda bottles and soft melon bread alike from his arms, as he scrambles to where you must be lying lifeless on the other side of the entrance.

“Y/n–! Ah, huh.”

And you are, in a way, lifeless on the ground, but you’re breathing. And smiling? Curled up on the white tiles in front of the sink cabinet.

“Y/n?” Kirishima doesn’t wait to ponder, instead placing a hand on the side of your head to begin the checks for a vertebral injury. But you coo, something completely unintelligible, and you’re much too warm. You tilt your face into his palm and every inch of you is hotter than the next.

“Y/n? C’mon on back to me Y/n, you gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s the chill of the floor or the addition of his other hand cupping your cheek, but your lashes heft apart just enough to register who it is trying to resuscitate you in the kitchen.

“Ei?”

Kirishima, always handy in a fire, has every hospital route an EMT could ever need memorized from all his volunteer work with the fire department and mentally scrolls through every single one as you try to form a sentence.

“you shouldn’t be here, Eiji, m’sick.”

“What?”

“flu,” you murmur and pull your hands to your side to try and rise. Kirishima doesn’t register anything not directly related to whether or not you’re suffering from blunt force trauma– except for the fact he could recall the exact date and time your dream drowsy smile falls and perks back up again now for the next fifty years unprompted.

“–tried to text you,” you manage as the redhead helps you sit up. The sentence comes out in gasps instead of coughs as you try to spare the air of any extra germs, “I can’t watch the movie tonight."

He laughs with pent up anxiety and simultaneous relief– he’s taken that charming fireman’s knee at your side and you wish in your flu-addled state that you’d stayed unconscious long enough for him to hoist you into his arms. Instead Kirishima places both of his big soft hands back around your face to brush away the dust and crumbs.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“‘got hungry,” you admit openly because you know it’ll make him smile, and with his face this close to yours you’ll be able to watch the skin around his eyes crinkle up too. “Then tired. I just needed to sit for a bit.”

His eyes do crinkle up. And his teeth bit at his lip like he’s trying not to be amused.

“Y/n, you are very sick. And very sweaty.” And the sweetheart, the biggest crush you’ve ever had, your closest friend, the man you dreamed of on the kitchen floor, asks if he can carry you to the bath.

��‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

Why are you breathing so hard? Shinsou is the only pro in the office that you can’t hide a goddamned thing from. Maybe it’s because he works primarily in the underground– observant, sneaky– that it’s obvious, they way you wobble on your feet when your eyes are closed too long, or the sudden effort it takes you just to climb the stairs.

Is he supposed to be able to focus on paperwork with you trying to catch your breath in a hallway when you think no one’s around? None of your sidekicks are brave enough to ask why you wore a mask to work today, but it’s summer and the air pollution gets bad enough that some of them have to too. Are they really all that stupid? Has he done the worst hiring job of any pro in the city?

“Shinsou,” you murmur across the now-empty end of day office and he whips around because god knows how many times you’ve tried to get his attention while he’s been off in space.

“Yeah boss?”

Your voice is rough with sick when you reply and it would be so fucking sexy if it didn’t remind him to be so anxious about your wellbeing. “I’ve told you not to call me that, you haven’t been my sidekick for years,” and then you’re smiling even as you hold back a cough, “makes me feel old.”

“You are older than me.”

“By a year!” You sputter and then your lungs take over, heaving and hacking so hard you have to double over your desk to steady your forehead against something. Shinsou’s on his feet immediately, navigating the office in sweats and his capture gear to get to you.

What happened? This morning it was just a tickle at the top of your throat but the aches sank from your head, down your spine, and flooded through your body just as quickly as the sun’s shadow crawls across a stone. Which is to say, all day long and all too slowly to realize you probably should have called in sick.

“Here.” A cool hand materializes on the back of your neck and you roll your head to the side to check what exactly has arrived for you. With his free hand Shinsou presses a paper water cup forward, which you’d love to take if you had the energy to pull your mask down.

“went to school together n’ everything,” you breathe.

“Boss, you should go home for the night, I’ll– I can finish this paperwork.”

By now the dark-eyed hero has sunk slowly into a crouch beside your chair and keeps a careful hand on your back to ensure you don’t slip to the floor sideways one way or the other. Thank god he sent the rookies home because stupid or otherwise, you'd have to be braindead not to notice this adoration that he can’t seem to get a handle on.

“Shinsou,” you murmur again, just as sexily as last time and he feels just as much if not more shame at how lovely it is to hear you call to him sweet and low, “I can’t get up.”

“What?”

That’s it though. There’s no trick or test. Shinsou has a fucked up sleep schedule from all his overnight patrols so he always stays in the office late, but you? You’ve been trying to rally for the last two hours and now you’ve used all your energy teasing a man whose eyes go bright every time you say his name. It serves you right, collapsing at your desk after using the last of your strength to squeeze as many Shinsous as you could into an evening.

“call me a taxi?”

He rises to his feet, “Will you even be able to get up your front steps?”

“sure hope so.”

“Do you feel nauseous?” He’s shuffling around the room now, plucking keys from hooks, and you watch him sideways with your head still resting in the day’s paperwork. “You gonna aspirate if I let you go home alone?”

“if god’s feeling extra silly”

He scoffs to hide the smile. Shinsou returns to your side to lay his faded denim jacket over your shoulders and then crouches again at eye level.

“Y/n,” he urges, and rests a hand to the back of your head to get your attention, “If I carry you downstairs, will you be able to hold onto me?”

Downstairs is a bluff. With you snug and mostly unconscious between his jacket and his back, Shinsou carries you home. Face full of your clothes, hair, quirk, whatever’s getting in his eyes, under the stars, and down back streets to avoid any publicity, the hero tries to walk gently enough that you don’t whimper from the impact of his steps.

“Thank you...Toshi,” you whisper just when he thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and the big bad underground pro almost stumbles hard enough to fly.

[russellsppttemplates]

Not anymore (Lando Norris)

Lando's determined to make you see where you belong

Note: english is not my first language. I hope this is still enjoyable to read as I really challenged myself with these pieces! I'm not sure how good this is (or how much you will want to kill me)! This is part 2 of We don't fit together ! Edit: I used a line from dumplingsjinson (they're the best 🫶✨️)

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions reader's insecurities about herself and about her relationship with Lando, curse words, bloodwork

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

Part 1

The past couple of days were strange. Lando still sent you his usual good morning and good night texts he would send whenever you didn't spend the night together, and you replied. Still, because of your schedule and his schedule, the text for the dreaded conversation came through only this morning

From Lan

Needed to get my bloods done and then Jon also needed a physical assessment so this morning was a rush, but I'm free for the rest of the day if you want to talk, lovie

To Lan

I'll be home for the whole day, you can come here whenever it's best for you!

Tidying the place up a bit, the thoughts on your head kept the same train of ideas. You didn't fit his lifestyle, and the constant doubts you felt were certainly not the way you wanted to go about your life.

There was a knock on the door when you were fluffing the pillows and you walked up to open it, see Lando with somewhat dark circles under his eyes and a bunch of your favourite flowers, "Come in", you said softly as you both headed to the living room, sitting down since you didn't know what else to do.

"Thank you for texting, there was this part of me that didn't believe you would", you admitted. This was the time to be honest, still remaining polite and aware of the words leaving your mouth.

"Of course I did, Y/N, I want us to talk this out, I want us out of this rough patch", Lando pleaded softly, "I'm so sorry for not noticing you were feeling like this", he offered, cutting through the silence when you seemed to not know what to say to kick-start the conversation.

"It's not your fault, Lando", you spoke the truth, "you have been on my mind every conscious second, every thought is about this and I- I really don't know how we will do this, how we will do that", you pointed to him in allusion to the goal he had, "I'm sorry".

Lando gulped, rubbing his hands on his thighs before speakingup, "I did too, and I want you to know I just want you to be happy, fuck, there's nothing I want more in life than to see you happy, and right now it pains me that I am the one that's making you hurt", he let his heart out.

"It's not only your fault", you whispered again, this time looking at him. Your insecurities were just that - your own - and you were responsible from how certain triggers made you feel and react, "I have to be the one to know how to deal with these".

"And I want to help you, lovie, you don't have to do this all alone all the time", Lando offered, "I want us to work and this is a conjoined effort - you shouldn't be doing that alone".

Silence filled the room as the gears turned in your head before you looked up again, seeing the broken look on Lando's face, "Do you think we should take a break? Spend some time away from eachother?", you voiced.

Lando didn't expect the option you suggested. Spending time further apart didn't seem like the right thing to do when you were obviously feeling like you didn't fit in and belong in his life, "are you sure that's the way to go? We'll do what you feel the most comfortable and happy with, but I don't want you to feel like I want you away or that you have to keep away from me - I want you with me for as much time as you can give me".

"It's silly, I know - I've never done this before, I don't know what to do", you shrugged your shoulders. Usually, by the time any insecurities shone through, your past partners had already left.

Lando sighed, "If that is what you think is going to help I'm all in, Y/N. I'll do anything to prove to you that I'm serious about this, but I'm giving up on us, I'm going to fight for you", Lando stated as tears started forming in his eyes, keeping them at bay because this wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

"I'm going to show you just how much you belong with me and how well we fit together, okay?", he checked with you, seeing a small nod, the uncertainty behind it only fueling him to put all his efforts into it.

.

"I wanted to do something we haven't done in a while", Lando said over the phone as he packed the tupperwares into the basket.

"Yes? And what would that be?", you asked. Lando kept a respectful distance but he made sure that everyday that you didn't spend together, you knew he was thinking about you and doing all these little things to remind you of how much he loved you and how you were meant to be together.

"I'm not going to tell you because it's a surprise, but I need to warn you to bring comfortable shoes, and as much as I love your little dresses, anything without a skirt would be better", you heard him smile.

"Okay, anywhere I should go to?", you wondered, "I'll pick you up in about thirty minutes if that's okay?", he quesioned, getting a positive answer from you, "see you soon, beautiful girl, I love you!".

Lando finished packing the picnic basket, getting the napkins and the drinks from the fridge so he could go to his bedroom and get ready.

He planned a fun afternoon, starting with a cycle around the city before finishing with a picnic in the park as he knew it was one of your favourite things. He had come up with many of your favourite plans to do together lately and he was feeling good about it. There was nothing he wanted more than to show you that you fit together and that both of your lives could compliment eachother if you both made adjustments. He was going out less than he used to and favouring to spend that time with you, he made sure you knew he was there and that he wasn't planning on leaving.

Finding a t-shirt and some jeans, he got two buckets hats from the new Quadrant Spring collection they would be launching soon and got ready to leave the apartment.

The drive to your wasn't long, but he never knew with the after lunch traffic, finding a good spot for his car and seeing you already at the entrance of the building, checking the street before crossing it, "hey, Lan", you smiled as you got inside the vehicle, kissing his cheek softly as he drove out of the spot once you had your seatbelt on, "hey, baby, how has your day been?".

"It's good, better now that I'm getting out of the house with some very nice company", you smiled.

The park wasn't too far, and when Lando parked near the rental city bikes with a smirk on his face, you knew what he wanted to do for the afternoon, "we're cycling?", you beamed.

"Yes! I also have some snacks here for a picnic later", Lando got the basket from the cartrunk, carrying it to the bike and making sure it was safely attached to it, scanning the code for his bike and then yours.

"Wait", he said as you were making sure the seat was at the right height, cycling around the area. Fishing out the bucket hat from the basket, he shook it a little so it would have a nice shape before putting it on your head, kissing your lips softly as he looked at you, "these are new and I needed my prettiest model to try them on first", he charmed as you blushed, "plus, I don't want the sun to blind you or burn you".

You cycled around your favourite spots in town, Lando occasionally taking pictures of the city and you with his camera and waving at the odd person who noticed and recognised it was him and you on the bikes, before you returned to the park, deciding to cycle to your favourite spot by the old big trees, blossoming from the spring sun.

"Thank you for this", you mumbled as you wiped your lips free of crumbs from the cake you had.

"Y/N, I won't stop fighting for us when we have something worth fighting for", he smiled, pulling you to lay on the blanket with him and holding your hands between your bodies, "I also got this really cool invite for the new exhibition at the museum - that one you wanted to see - and you want to know why it is so cool? Because we get the exhibition all to ourselves, no one else is going to be there which means you can take as long as you want and I can admire you all to myself and all I want too", he kissed your cheek.

"Sounds like a nice plan, thank you", you kissed his jaw.

.

You scanned your paddock pass as walked in the directions you were giving, not wanting to mess up the schedule and the lined up events everyone had.

They had been experimenting with new events to promote motorsport, adding parties and sunset events to the race weekend on order to gather all of the sponsors, famous people and fans who were interested in seeing the behind the scenes of a luxurious and extravagant race weekend.

"Everyone who still doesn't have a bracelet can come through here, please", one of the women in black suits called as you stood in that line, waiting for you turn.

"Here you go, enjoy the party!", she smiled, letting you go through and carrying on with her tasks.

The section involving the paddock, pitlane and the starting grid decorated with lights over bars serving drinks while staff went around with trays with small canapés.

You supposed this did work or they wouldn't try it out, after all it was an expensive sport and the more investors and sponsors they got, the better, so every little interaction and publicity was welcomed. You recognised a lot for the faces from Instagram and other social media platforms, along with some of the sponsors you had spent races sitting next to in the garage.

The face you wanted to see the most was nowhere in sight as you saw Oscar and Zak in the distance, talking to someone you recognised being one of their sponsors.

When you stepped closer to the area where most drivers seemed to be hanging out, you spotted Lando and he spotted you.

It had been nearly a year since you called it quits. It wasn't working for you and no matter how much Lando tried and fought for your relationship, you still didn't feel comfortable and thought you'd be better without eachother. It wasn't easy and to this day it would probably be one of your biggest regrets.

Maybe today you'd get to ease that heavy feeling in your chest.

Lando knew a lot of people would be there tonight, but your face wasn't one he expected. Last thing he heard about you was that you had made a small career switch and started working with another company, so he figured you were probably invited through one of the people with deep pockets wanting to invest in motorsport, knowing how it always looks nice on the company to invite employees to these fixtures.

As he saw his father and Max walk up to where you were, he walked in your direction, hoping to divert them so they wouldn't see you, another person pulled him with him to the side for a photo and it became impossible for him to not notice you and the other way around.

“It’s been… It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”, you spoke up when you locked eyes and stood close enough to eachother.

"Yes, it has", Lando stated, "how have you been?", he wondered.

"I've been okay, and I see you have been doing well too - the car looks great this year", you congratulated, "I've been meaning to text you because I wanted to talk", you tried.

It took you some time to work on your insecurities, to learn to feel uncomfortable in some situations and get yourself out of them, and now you felt ready to begin again, feeling comfortable in your own skin.

"What did you want to tell me? You can tell me here", he stated coldly.

To say you broke his heart would be an understatement.

Despite all of his efforts, stopping DJ'ing, being conscious of who he hung out with, making sure he spent as much time with you as he could, you still raised concerns about how you were like oil and water.

Not made to be together.

"This really isn't the best place", you looked around as he pulled you inside the McLaren garage that was just on the side, exchanging a look with the security guard that was making sure no one broke in without permission.

"Is it good here now?", he offered.

"It will have to do", you smiled, "I'm sorry things didn't work out before - I wasn't in a good place and things weren't working out the way I'd like", you offered, "and I feel better now".

"Let me stop you right there before this gets out of hand and I hurt you, because I have never wanted that and I don't want it now", Lando said sternly, catching you off guard, "making peace with the fact that we weren't going to work out together was one of the hardest things I've done - I was miserable, didn't enjoy racing or anything that I was doing because I didn't have you by my side - you left me when I needed you", he poured his heart out.

He didn't shout and he didn't yell, but every word stung. Both from how true they were and how he had hurt because of you.

"I'm sorry, Lando, I wasn't trying to diminish how you felt then", you clarified.

"I know you didn't, but this isn't how it works, fuck", he rubbed his temple, "You don’t get to just waltz back into my life and think that I’d be okay with it - I waited so long for you, and I wanted to wait longer if you had let me, but now I can't do that, not anymore", he stated firmly.

"Are you saying we don't have another chance?", you asked as your bottom lip wobbled, "I promise I'll be more open about how I feel, and second guessing wo-".

“You were it at one point, you know?”, Lando shook his head as he looked at his feet before looking up back at you, "my parents, Max, Carlos - everyone agreed with me when I said you were my endgame", he offered.

There had been a time where he wished for this. For you to come to him and tell him you wanted him back and how it had all been a mistake. Now that he was hearing it, he realised he didn't want it, not anymore.

[babygorewhore]

•Headcannons for Cooper Adams•

Requested by anon!

These are my opinions and just from what I observed from the movie! I’ve seen it twice. So it’s okay if you disagree! But it’s just my opinion BE NICE!!!!!!!

These are both SFW and NSFW but the top half is not smut.

Warnings! Mentions of oral! Both receiving! Choking! Talks of masturbation! unprotected sex, bondage, Dom/sub dynamics, mommy kink briefly talked about but not in detail. Very very minimal mention of spitting. These aren’t really in order. Talks of his mother. Brief talk about if there was an age gap (most likely would be lol) Nothing graphic tbh. These are very generalized. I mean he’s a killer but I didn’t really dive into that. Mwah!

-Cooper would initially have reservations about dating someone younger than him. He’s middle aged and was married for a while (until she’s dead RIP)

-You immediately had a crush on him and he knew that. He’s a smart man. He knows how human beings work. He knows how to read people and their body language.

-But finally after weeks of tension, Cooper finally asks you to go out with him.

-I feel like Cooper is creative with dates. He would like the traditions, going to dinner but I also feel like because he’s so observant he would know exactly where to go.

-carnival, museum, park, cemetery, concert, Cooper would go wherever you want.

-Cooper would stalk you. No questions. He’d find all your social media, learn everything about you, but he wouldn’t reveal it. He’s an expert in pretending to be calm.

-He’s not completely without conscious or a heart. He does love his children. He’s capable of it. Cooper would frequently check on his kids while he’s with you.

-Cooper has OCD (Same) and I feel like a lot of that has to do with his mother. It was a way of coping with severe anxiety and intrusive thoughts. He does compulsions to soothe himself. He often fidgets.

-Speaking of his mother. Cooper had a complicated relationship with his mother. Obviously we weren’t told that much in the film but my guess would be that she neglected him. She saw signs in him that weren’t normal but instead of helping him, she either pulled away or punished him.

-Cooper wanted to please his mother. He wanted her approval so this carried into his adult years. He tends to avoid conflict when he can, as we saw with the other mom and why his family seemed so shocked by his outburst. Normally, Cooper shoves down his anger in front of people.

-But when he finally snaps, well, we all heard the horror of his crimes committed. Cooper has so much rage inside of him and he only allows it to come out on “special.” Occasions.

-Cooper probably loves his job as a fireman. I feel like he trains younger men who work there. I also hardcore believe he has saved many lives but he has that entitlement that he can also take it away when he wants. But when we saw him help that young girl, he automatically knew what medical care to give her. Again, he probably has kept people alive on the way to the ambulance.

-Okay Cooper is a fucking freak. Let’s not lie.

-I don’t think there’s much he isn’t into tbh. But I think one of the biggest kinks he has is utter dominance or corruption.

-Cooper loves to play the role of an average, easy going guy and silly guy but once that bedroom door closes? He has you bent over, arm around your throat and ass in the air.

-since he’s so big, he can easily overpower you and he enjoys this. Cooper loves to wrap a hand around your neck, controlling your breath as he thrusts into you.

-I feel like cooper, which would normally go against his need for cleanliness, he would love spitting. I’m not gonna go into a ton of detail but I feel like he would love to spit on your cunt, or drool into your mouth after eating you out.

-Speaking of oral…Cooper wouldn’t usually ask or expect it, I feel like one of the fastest ways to make him whimper is to suck his cock. His entire career is about other people so for someone to sink to their knees, wrap their lips around his dick and take their time to lick and suck…it would drive him crazy.

-While you give him head, Cooper tends to bob your head up and down or cup your jaw so he can feel it. He also goes inside if you slap his cock on your tongue before you take it.

-Cooper loves eating pussy. I’m talking, burying his entire face, he can’t hardly breathe but why does he need air? He pins your thighs down, spreading you as wide as possible as he fucking devours you. He humps the bed, moans and grunts from your sounds. Honestly, he eats you out for his pleasure too. Coming home, and just sinking his tongue in your pussy? He loves it.

-Cooper loves to tie you up. We all know this. He really appreciates it :) He ties your wrists in front of you. I don’t feel like he’d love it for himself though. Bonus points if he ties you up and then eats you out.

-Okay. Cooper loves to get marked up. He has a very very high tolerance for pain. He took being TAZED multiple times and was only down for a few minutes. Scratch his back, slap him, hell even bite him and leave marks. He fucking loves it. If you drag your nails down his bare back…he looks like a fucking animal.

-But Cooper also likes to be submissive. Hear me out. I don’t think I would classify him as a complete switch. But a Dom/switch leaning. Like 70 percent of the time he likes to have control, as he said. “I’m in control.” However, if you call him a good boy, play with his hair, praise him and give him kisses? He’s puddle in your hands. If you call him a sweet puppy though…he would let you walk him like a goddamn dog.

-Submissive cooper has a mommy kink in my opinion. He loves to worship your chest, play with your nipples. He wants your approval. He wants to know you’re proud of him.

-Cooper I feel like wouldn’t regularly…sext? I think if he was gone a while he would love an occasional sexy picture but I don’t think he wants to tell you what he wants to do. He wants to physically show you. But sometimes on a phone call, his breathy and deep voice saying “can’t wait to see you when I get home.” You know what he means.

-Cooper isn’t shy about PDA but I don’t think he’s over the top. I feel like he has an arm around you, or hand on your waist/hip or hold your hand. Kiss on the head. But I don’t think he’d be overboard. He’s extremely possessive though. Don’t let anyone else look at you…

-Cooper likes to have alone time. But for some reason I don’t feel like he jerks off a lot? I mean anything he’d want I’d be ass in the air, but you know what I mean? I don’t feel like he THINKS about it? Very rarely, he will jerk himself off in his fist. Thinking about you.

-Cooper is the master of dirty talk. He has the perfect balance of praise and degrading. “Fucking needy little slut huh? Mmmm, such an obedient little princess for me.”

-Cooper has more…old time nicknames for you. Sweetheart, honey, sugar, babydoll. Sometimes princess or baby girl. But primarily, I think sugar or honey.

-I feel like Cooper would have a firm pressure if he held you. He’d love to hold you on his lap, rub your back. If you rest your head on his chest, he doesn’t “play.” With your hair; but more so massages your scalp or neck.

-Cooper likes to read I think or listen to audiobooks. He’d love to listen to you talk about books to if you enjoyed reading. And he’d love recreating scenes from romance books you like …👀

-Cooper I think is a spanker. He smacks your ass as you’re walking away. Especially when you’re bent over. He’d spank it so hard it would be red. Or if you’re straddling him, he’d grip your ass. But I think he likes tits too. He’s not picky.

-Cooper doesn’t have a “type.” In my opinion. But I think personality wise, he likes nurturing and caring. Someone sweet. He can find beauty in everyone. If you’re goth like me, he’d love that too. But whatever makes you happy.

-Coopers love language towards you is gift giving and physical touch. He likes to give you things or special gifts. And he loves to touch you. I think physical touch and words of affirmation make him feel loved though. Things he didn’t get growing up.

-Last but not least, Cooper loves dad rock. (Me too) but I think he has a guilty pleasure for pop music.

If I forget anyone; I’m sorry! Tagging @xxbimbobunnyxx @lovalova444 @rosaleelovesdilfs @cryobabyy @stillwjk-channie-lixie @redhead1180 @id-rather-be-in-middle-earth @rubyfruitjungle @dinbrowneyes @cellophane-wasp @cattt777 @horrorpiggy @oceanblvd111 @waywardtigersandwich @cherryinterlude @the-ghost-code @wildgirllz @redpillbluepill @velvrei @faelvz @sararuno

[eamour]

mental diets.

in regards to manifesting, a mental diet is considered a diet in relation to your daily thoughts. it's a diet for the mind that prescribes you which thoughts you can "feed" and "nourish" yourself with and which thoughts you need to avoid or abstain from. in short, it's an inevitable and essential part of everyone's manifestation journey.

thoughts.

before we get into procedure and practice, let's first define the two types of thoughts that we have. our thoughts are categorised into either positive or negative. positive thoughts are the ones you are permitted to have, negative thoughts are the ones which are forbidden to think about.

positive thoughts.

these are thoughts that confirm or contribute to you having your desire. they help you live in the end and stay in your desired state. they are in alignment with who you want to be and how you want to show up as.

negative thoughts.

these are thoughts that stand in opposition to your desired reality. they contradict your aim and are in the way of being or becoming your desired version of self.

practice and procedure.

when going on a a mental diet, you become more conscious of the thoughts you think of on autopilot and on a daily basis. you try to observe the thoughts your mind keeps coming back to habitually and make decisions upon the direction of your inner conversations, controlling and managing thoughts of good, bad or indifferent nature. in other words, you start to consciously change and correct your thoughts, as you are in complete charge!

when it comes to positive thoughts, you are obviously allowed to think and accept them. your goal is to think as positively as you can and engage with thoughts in your favour. with negative thoughts however, your aim is to deny any ideas that do not serve you or your desired self. you have to refuse to entertain any opposing thoughts concerning your desires and not let any undesired thoughts influence who you are conscious of being.

after rejecting these thoughts, your job is to redefine yourself. this means that you are revising negative statements made in the mind and replace them with positive ones, validating your desired story. whenever you catch yourself thinking unfavourably, you alter ("flip") that thought on the spot, then and there. you basically reaffirm it.

purpose.

there are several intentions of a mental diet. some include realigning yourself with your desired state, not allowing your mind to fall into old, undesired thinking patterns, eliminating and erasing as limiting or contradictory thoughts, getting rid of intrusive thinking, leaving no room for uncontrolled thinking, purposely filtering bad thoughts, not indulging in any unpleasant ideas, provide yourself with positive thoughts, creating new thinking habits and establishing a new mindset, building trust in the law and yourself, solidifying your desire in your mind as yours, strengthening your belief and faith in your assumptions, understanding that you have the ability to select your thoughts, training and learning how to spot unwanted thoughts right away, practicing mindfulness, discipline and self-awareness, directing your focus, attention and concentration, exercising self-reflection,... and more.

permanent diet.

the way you go on a mental diet is pretty natural, as conscious manifestation itself is all about filtering thoughts and choosing between what’s good and what’s not. it’s a diet that persists as it turns into a lifestyle, a lifelong commitment, which starts to feel more and more familiar over time. you do not suddenly stop supervising your inner monologues, even after obtaining your desire. you will most definitely continue to persist in your desired assumptions as well as your overall desired mindset and way of thinking.

only once you fixate too much on perfecting your mental diet, that’s when it becomes unnatural. a mental diet's purpose is to support you in staying in your wished state. it’s simply guiding you towards better attitudes and approaches of the mind.

implementation.

you can improve your mental statements by …

interrupting your thought process. with this technique, you basically intervene and stop yourself from thinking. whenever you find yourself assuming something unfavourable, you won't "complete" the thought.

revising ("flipping") your thinking. after you have interfered with your own thoughts, your next task is to revise the statement you were making mentally. you do this by replacing your old, undesirable thought with a new, desirable thought.

reassuring by reaffirming. especially when you are revising your thoughts, you can use affirmations such as "i remember when i manifested ...", "regardless of everything, i have manifested ...", "remember when i manifested ...?" or other umbrella affirmations to make you feel self-assured.

diet in steps.

this is a mental diet simplified:

reflect · you reflect on a thought and decide whether it's positive or negative.

reject and correct · if it's a negative thought, you reject it and then correct it.

accept · if it's a positive thought (again), you accept the it.

persist · you insist on persisting in the (now) positive thought.

with love, ella.

[girlgenius1111]

wrong.

r is dating an older woman. her teammates don't approve. when r and her girlfriend breakup, she hides it from her teammates, determined not to let them know that they were right.

angst + fluff. breakup obviously. protective barca :)

When you'd decided to ignore your teammates feelings about your girlfriend, you didn't imagine it would end as terribly as it did. You chalked it up to them being overprotective, which they were, rather than them being right about her, which they also were. She was 28, and you were 19, and you knew they felt that she was too old for you. You were one of the younger players on the team, which you took as something of a challenge, as if you had to prove your maturity. That wasn't why you were dating someone so much older, but it was certainly a perk. You thought they'd be impressed when they met her, but they were not. They waited until she left to tell you that they thought it was a bad idea, that she was too old for you.

This only really strengthened your resolve to keep seeing her, much to your teammates frustration. They'd all tried to speak to you about it, promising that they just didn't want to see you get hurt or taken advantage of, but you wouldn't hear any of it. You all fell into an unspoken agreement to not discuss your girlfriend, as it was the cause of countless arguments, and they clearly weren't changing your mind. Alexia had finally thrown up her hands, saying that if you wanted to be immature and not listen to them, you were free to do so, but that you shouldn't expect them to be there to fix it when it inevitably ended poorly.

Alexia was just frustrated and worried, and she hadn't really meant it. She thought that was obvious; her and the team had made it clear, she thought, that they were always there for you. No matter what. They'd proven it, time and time again, but Alexia's words rattled around in your brain for days after she said them, and you were unable to pretend they hadn't hurt. Still, you pushed it to the back of your mind, confident that you wouldn't need your teammates, because nothing would go wrong.

-----

Of course, everything did go wrong. You had gone to your girlfriend's apartment to surprise her with dinner after training one day. You were in the kitchen, preparing to start cooking when you heard her key in the door. She was on the phone when she walked in, sitting on the couch and continuing her conversation, and you decided to wait until she was off the phone to announce your presence.

"No, really, it's fine. She doesn't have to know, and besides, she's just a bit of fun. She's 20, she can't possibly think I'm serious about her."

You felt nauseous. As far as you were aware, you were the only 20 year old she was seeing, which meant she was talking about you. It only got worse from there.

"I definitely prefer you, baby. Her body is nice, obviously, but I could do without her personality. She's young, and annoying, and she doesn't know how to shut up. I don't know how her team tolerates her, honestly, I can't spend more than a couple hours with her unless we're partaking in... other activities, and then her mouth is pretty busy."

You can hear the smirk in her voice, and you swear you can feel your heart fall out of your chest. She was speaking so carelessly about you, so cruelly. You felt used, and suddenly self conscious about everything you'd ever said. Was she right? Did you talk too much? Did the team secretly hate you? It only took you a few seconds to decide that she was probably right. She was older, the age of a lot of your teammates, and it seemed incredibly likely that they felt the same way.

Your embarrassment quickly turned to anger, though, as it often did, and you grabbed the flowers you'd brought her, and marched out into the living room. Her eyes widened, hand dropping the phone, and you threw the flowers in her direction, as well as the key to her apartment she'd given you, before walking right out the door, taking care to slam it behind you.

-----

You thought you were handling it pretty well. You walked right out of her apartment and to your car, driving home. You didn't cry, that would be ridiculous. What was there to cry about? You should have known it would end like this. You couldn't stand the thought of hearing your teammates I told you so's, nor the thought of them sticking to their guns, and not being there for you when you needed them, because they'd warned you. You decided that you wouldn't need them, then, which definitely was not fueled partly by your ex-girlfriend's words about them probably hating you. No, you were fine. Everything was fine.

You woke the next morning sadder than you'd been the night before. The anger had faded, leaving a hole in your chest, where the words you'd overheard were etched permanently. You knew that, in this state, it would take just one person asking if you were okay for you to break, and that was not an option. You would act as normal as possible, no one would suspect anything, and you could cry when you got home, not before.

-----

You wished you didn't have such perceptive teammates. You could have sworn you'd acted normally, completely normally, as you headed into the locker room that morning, joking around with Pina and Ona, and doing your best to keep a smile on your face. It was like the older girls had some internal alarm that went off when you weren't okay, and you felt their eyes flitting over to you throughout the morning gym session.

Still, you held strong, avoiding the girls that were watching you carefully, instead spending time with the younger girls, who were happy to joke around, which keep your mind off things. Your first real test came in the form of Lucy Bronze.

Everyone was walking out to the pitch, when she fell into step with you, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

"How did your surprise dinner go?" She asked. You'd completely forgotten that you'd told Lucy about that. She was one of the only ones who could be civil when talking about your girlfriend, taking the time to ask you about her, even though you knew she held the same opinions as the others.

"Oh. Fine. It was good." You replied shortly, and Lucy couldn't help but be slightly confused when you shrugged out from under her arm, and jogged away. You weren't one to spare details when telling a story, but you had evidently not wanted to talk about it. That wasn't like you.

"What special dinner?" Ingrid asked, coming up on the other side of Lucy as you literally ran away. Mapi was on her other side, also looking curiously at Lucy.

"She was surprising her girlfriend by cooking her dinner last night," Lucy explained and Mapi frowned.

"I don't like that girl." She stated plainly. "She's not good enough for our pequeña."

Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows how you feel about her, love, you don't need to remind us every time she's brought up."

Mapi ignored her girlfriend. "She answered strangely, no? Normally she's talktative whenever someone asks about her girl, but she ran away from you." The Spaniard observed, watching as you sprayed water on Pina's head, your smile not quite reaching your eyes.

"Yeah, I guess. You know she hates hearing how much everyone dislikes her girlfriend though, it was probably just that." Lucy dismissed, but Mapi's eyes stay trained on you.

"Hmm."

"María, please don't get involved in that again, you know how upset it makes her when everyone has something to say about her relationship," Ingrid said reproachfully, fully understanding the look in her girlfriend's eyes.

"I am not going to get involved," Mapi defended. "I am just going to see if anyone else has any observations..."

Ingrid sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Don't mention this to Alexia until you're sure something is going on, she'll freak out."

"I won't." Mapi promised, distracted. Ingrid walked away to talk to Frido, and Mapi immediately found Alexia standing with Irene, and marched over.

Ingrid abruptly stopped talking, watching as Mapi seemingly did exactly what she ahd told her not to do.

"What?" Frido asked, following Ingrid's eyes to where Mapi was standing with the captains.

"Mapi's convinced something happened with y/n and her girlfriend, and I told her not to say anything because you know how y/n gets, especially not to Alexia, and look. She's doing exactly what I said not to." Ingrid sighed, exasperated.

"I don't like that girl." Frido said, frowning at the mention of your girlfriend.

Ingrid threw her hands in the air. "No one does! That doesn't mean we have to get all up in y/n's business. The more we push, the less likely she is to listen to us."

"Alright, relax, I agree with you." Frido said. Ingrid glared at Mapi from across the pitch, the Spaniard very obviously avoiding eye contact with her girlfriend. Jona called them over to start a drill, then, and all conversations came to a halt. For now.

-----

You weren't oblivious to the increase of attention on you after talking to Lucy, but you were determined not to acknowledge it. Your teammates were stubborn, though; almost as stubborn as you. You were walking off the pitch at the end of training, towards the locker room, when Alexia and Mapi appeared on either side of you.

"How was your night last night?" Alexia asked innocently, looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

"Fine?" You asked, feigning confusion.

"Do anything fun?" Mapi wondered.

"No." You said, because you weren't sure you could even discuss your ex at this point. Lucy had brought it up before, and you'd barely made it through that brief conversation.

"Really?" Both girls said in unison. You rolled your eyes.

"Yes." You huffed, getting frustrated, and they could tell. Alexia grabbed your wrist, stopping you, and her and Mapi moved to stand in front of you, blocking your path inside.

"Lucy said you did something fun with your girlfriend?" Alexia asked, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. Mapi's arms were crossed, and it really felt like you were in trouble.

"Yeah, we had dinner. Can I go now?"

"No, you're being weird. Did something happen?" Mapi said, stepping closer to you.

"Nope," you shook your head stubbornly.

"Pequeña, you seem upset," Alexia reached out a hand to rest on your shoulder, but you moved out of the way.

"I am not upset." Your voice was completely devoid of emotion, and Mapi and Alexia exchanged looks, not used to you acting so stand offish towards them.

"If something happened, you can tell us," Alexia stated, not deterred by your behavior.

"I don't even know why you care, you said you didn't want to hear if something happened." You scoff. Your face is one of anger, but your body language radiates sadness.

"When did I say that? I always want to know whats going on with you."

"Alexia, you told me not to come crying to you if you ended up being right about her." The blonde was speechless, absolutely stunned that you had taken that to heart.

"I wasn't being serious, y/n." She said quietly, somewhat gaining an understanding of why you were being so resistant to them. You remained quiet, gaze fixed on the grass under your feet.

"Seriously, pequeña, if something happened with you and your girl, you can tell us." Mapi cut in. You groaned, running a hand through your hair. You weren't getting out of this, you knew.

"We broke up. You guys were right. Happy?"

"I am so sorry, y/n." Alexia sighed, moving closer as if to pull you into a hug. Instead, you pushed in between her and Mapi, stalking towards the locker room.

"No you aren't. You don't have to pretend you care. You don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to talk about it." You snapped over your shoulder, ignoring the way they followed you, calling your name.

You made it inside the locker room, aggressively throwing your things into your bag, and stomping back out towards the parking lot, completely ignoring the way every member of the team was watching you, concerned. Alexia and Mapi stood in the door, once again blocking your path.

"Y/n, stop," Mapi said. The room was quiet as everyone watched the standoff.

"Move." You said through clenched teeth. You were blinking back tears, and Alexia and Mapi softened at the sight. You took your opportunity, shoving them out of your way, and walking out without a look backwards. This time, the girls didn't follow you out of the room, instead looking like they were at a complete loss for what to do. As you walked down the hall, you heard the unmistakable voice of Ingrid cutting through the silence.

"María, I TOLD you not to bother her." The room erupted into conversation, and you left the building, wiping angrily at the tears falling down your face.

-----

You made it home, showering and fighting the urge to just get in bed and fall into misery. Instead, you focused on de-girlfriend-ing your apartment. There wasn't much, as you'd only been together for a few months, but you'd filled a garbage bag of her stuff, and headed down to the dumpster. You threw the bag out, and it didn't bring as much satisfaction as you'd hoped it would. You walked back to the front door of the building, rather dejected, when a voice called out to you.

"Y/n, you haven't been answering any of my calls," your ex said, jogging to where you stood frozen by the door. "Hey, baby," she continued, wrapping her arms around you and trying to pull you in. You unfroze, shoving her off you.

"Don't touch me." You snarled, backing into the door.

"Don't be like that, you weren't supposed to hear any of what I said."

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

"You're being dramatic, y/n, stop being so sensitive. This is what I was talking about, you won't even have a mature conversation with me about this." The girl standing in front of you was completely unrecognizable, to you at least. You wondered if this was the person all of your teammates had seen.

"There's no conversation to be had. We're done. You are a horrible person, and I never want to see you again."

Her face contorted in anger. "Did your teammates tell you to do this? They're probably just tired of hearing you complain, y/n. They barely put up with you, you aren't going to find anyone other than me that will." She reached forward again, trying to hold onto your arm, and there wasn't any room behind you to back up. Her words felt like a slap to the face.

"Don't touch me," you said again, voice much weaker this time. You couldn't believe what she was saying; it was like she was a completely different person suddenly, yet she still knew you, and knew exactly what to say to hurt you.

"No, you're gonna hear what I have to say," she said, clearly frustrated with you standing up for yourself. Her hand closed around your wrist, and you prepared to pull away, to run, when another voice shouted out from not too far away.

"Get your hands off her," Mapi growled, coming from seemingly nowhere to shove your ex away from you. Her and Alexia stood, shoulder to shoulder, not unlike how they had earlier, glaring at the girl in front of them.

You jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around you, settling when you Ingrid stepped in front of you, bringing you in close to her chest. You clung to her, not really sure why you were so afraid. You knew your ex wouldn't have hurt you, but she really scared you when she'd tried to grab you, and you wanted nothing more than to be as far away from her as possible.

"You do not ever touch her again, understand? Or you will not enjoy what happens to you." Alexia warned, her voice angrier and more threatening than you'd ever heard it.

"Are you okay?" Ingrid asked, drawing your attention away from Alexia. You nodded shakily, gripping tightly onto Ingrid's sweater. She was blocking you from really seeing what was going on, positioned directly between you and your ex. You could still hear her though.

"Whatever," she scoffed. "She's not worth the trouble." Mapi made an angry noise, and Alexia started forward, but Ingrid's voice brought their focus back to you.

"She's not worth it. Let's get pequeña inside." The Norwegian said, shooting both girls a meaningful look. They watched your ex walk away, as you unlocked the front door, and headed towards the elevator. No one spoke as you stepped in, taking it up to your floor. They filed out of the doors after you, still silent, following you to your door.

"You don't have to stay." You said quietly, fiddling with the lock.

"We're staying." Alexia responded firmly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her and Mapi were still practically radiating anger as they entered your apartment. Ingrid was angry to, you could tell, but she hid it better, focusing instead on getting you a glass of water. She handed it to you, as her and Alexia took seats in your living room. Mapi remained standing, whole body still tense. You sat, in the corner of the couch, bringing your knees up to your chest. Your teammates hated how small you were making yourself, how shaken you seemed.

"Are you okay pequeña?" Alexia asked after a minute, scooting closer to you on the couch.

"Fine." You said. You were fine. She wouldn't have hurt you, you knew that. Everything she said, though, did hurt. It felt like she'd picked out your biggest insecurities, and told you that they were true. You'd been vulnerable with her, more than you'd ever been with anyone else, and she'd used it against you the second she could. You weren't overly eager to share anything else, not right now. This wouldn't fly with your teammates, though, that much you knew. They'd come to apologize, probably, but they wouldn't leave until they were sure, absolutely sure, that you were okay. One word answers weren't going to convince them. "I'm fine, really. She startled me, that's all."

They didn't look convinced. You supposed that was fair; they'd need more than that.

"Seriously, I'm alright. I dodged a bullet, clearly."

"What she said..." Alexia started, but you stopped her, shaking your head.

"I really don't want to talk about it."

"Too bad." Alexia said.

"Ale," Ingrid said, shifting uncomfortably. The blonde ignored her.

"She is completely wrong, pequeña. We don't put up with you, y/n. We love you. We always want to hear what's going on with you, and what you have to say. You know that, don't you?"

You shrugged, really wishing they hadn't heard that part of the conversation.

"Can you tell us what happened with her?" Mapi said softly, finally taking a seat in the chair next to Ingrid. You hesitated, and it becomes very clear to them that you've internalized what they heard your ex say to you. "We want to hear, we want to help."

"I didn't mean what I said before, y/n. That because we warned you about her, we wouldn't be there if things went wrong. You could ignore every piece of advice I ever give you, and I'd still want to be there for you. Every time." Alexia cut in, resting a hand on your knee. You didn't shift away from her this time, which she took to be a good sign.

With a sigh, not meeting any of their eyes, you told them everything. Everything she'd said on the phone about you, the things that made your cheeks burn with humiliation, your stomach twist with anxiety. The words felt like they burned on the way out of your mouth, the fear that your friends would agree with them almost choking you. Of course, they didn't.

You'd barely finished talking when Mapi abruptly rose from her seat, hands clenched in tight fists and walked without a word into the kitchen. You looked after her, confused, but Ingrid just shook her head.

"She's angry, she just needs a minute."

You nodded slowly, trying to wrap your head around the fact that Mapi was so angry on your behalf that she could barely contain her feelings.

You looked to Alexia, her hand still resting on your knee, finding her deep in thought. She cleared her throat before speaking.

"You are right, pequeña, you definitely dodged a bullet. I am so sorry she said those things about you. None of them are true, not even one. You are a wonderful, thoughtful, kind person. You deserve so much better than her."

You nod your head weakly at her reassurance. You weren't convinced, but it made you feel better, if only marginally. Mapi reentered the room again, sitting not in the chair she was in earlier, but squishing herself into Ingrid's chair. It was always interesting to watch them together; wherever one of the struggled, the other picked them up, always, without a second thought. Ingrid scooched over in the chair, face unchanged and still fixed on you, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend and squeezing her shoulder comfortingly. Mapi visibly relaxed once her body was in contact with Ingrid's, like all of her muscles had un-tensed, and some of the anger was pushed out of her body.

That was how a relationship was supposed to be, you thought. You'd never felt more like an idiot in your entire life, yet still, your insecurities swirled around your head, and you felt like you were drowning in them.

"So you don't... you don't think she was right?" You ask in a small voice, peeking at the girls' faces. They all look shattered at your question, like it was causing them physical pain that you thought it possible that they didn't actually care about you, that you believed even a word of what that awful woman had said to you.

"No. She is completely, entirely wrong." Alexia said, sounding like she was pleading with you to believe her.

"I just thought she really liked me." You whispered, and it appears Alexia couldn't hold herself back anymore, moving closer and smooshing you into her arms. You cried softly into Alexia's sweatshirt, never having been more grateful in your life for anything, than you were in that moment that she was there, that all of them were there. Your captain wrapped you up safely in her arms, and the strength with which she held you did even more to convince you that she meant what she said; she wanted, more than anything, to be there for you.

"Voy a matar a esa puta." You heard Mapi declare. Alexia hummed in agreement against you.

"You're not going to kill anyone, María." Ingrid dismissed. "Not by yourself, and you'll have to beat me to it."

You looked up in surprise, seeing a satisfied grin on Mapi's face, and a fiery look on Ingrid's. If you ever wondered how 2 seemingly different people made a relationship work, you had your answer. Deep down, Ingrid could be just as protective, just as reckless as Mapi was when it came to people she loved.

You tried to pull away from Alexia, having stopped crying, but her arms only tightened around you.

"No, you are staying right here, where no one can ever make you sad again." Alexia said decisively. You stifle a laugh, but give up your attempts to escape. Your words come out slightly muffled when you speak again.

"Can you guys not tell everyone about what happened? They can know we broke up, but the whole team will just freak out if they know what she said, and I don't want to deal with that."

Ingrid and Alexia easily agree to your request, but Mapi remains silent. Finally, you do pull away from Alexia to stare suspiciously at the defender. Ingrid is tilting away from her girlfriend, an exasperated expression on her face.

"María, what did you do?" You asked. Mapi smiled sheepishly.

"I may have asked Lucy and Mario if they were free later to pay your ex a visit, and I also may have told them what we overheard."

"Mapi," you groaned.

"I didn't know you didn't want people to know! Besides, it will be easier to scare her away from you with more people. Especially those two!" You weren't impressed, but Alexia evidently was, a contemplative expression on her face.

"No, Ale, please don't let this happen," You begged, switching your attention to the normally more cool-headed individual.

"You can't go threaten that girl, no matter how much she deserves it." Alexia said, and Mapi deflated, a frown finding it's way onto her face. You sigh, relieved. "At least not right away. We'll give it a few weeks, until she lets her guard down."

"Alexia!" You yelped, and she simply smiles softly at you.

"No one messes with our pequeña. Ever." Alexia shrugged, relatively unbothered by your slight annoyance.

It wasn't actual frustration, though. You knew they were just joking around. Well everyone except for Mapi; she was definitely being serious. Regardless, it felt good to know they had your back; like further confirmation that they didn't feel at all how your ex had said they did. You should have listened to them from the beginning, but more than that, you should have never listened to your ex, not when everything your teammates did today, and everyday, proved her to be wrong.

-----

[captainlondonman]

HiViz MASSAGE

Alan  walked down the same street almost every day but today for some reason he saw a sign on a door. There was no shop front but obviously there was something on the floor above. It read

Mehmet Massage, Turkish massage for real men.

Alan had had a Turkish massage once and was so pummelled he could hardly move after but there was something about the fact it said for real men that caught his attention. Was he a real man. Well in some ways he had a good body, not powerful but at least people said he looked good. He was smooth skinned and blond with fair skin. God knows what made him do it but checking no one was watching him he rang the bell.

Through the speaker a deep gravelly voice commanded

‘Who is that, what you want?’

Alan replied ‘I see your sign and wonder if I could make a booking.’

‘Come on up.’

The buzzer released the door and Alan walked up the staircase into what was obviously a home . Standing at the top of the stairs was what looked like a giant of a man with thick black hair and an even thicker beard. He must have been at least 6’ 2” and well built, wearing a blue tracksuit zipped up to his neck.

‘You would like massage?’

‘You are new here so I thought I’d give it a try.’

‘Good you are my first customer.’

Alan quietly thought

‘Oh my God what have I let myself in for.’

‘What did you do before this,’ Alan inquired

‘I was a workie, a good workie but now I change and do not worry I am trained as a masseur. Come is and we start.’

There seemed no way Alan could turn around and leave.

‘Well it is only one time so not really a problem.’

‘So take your clothes off and let me see you. No need to worry we are both men. I seen it all as a workie.’

Alan stripped off to his underpants feeling very self conscious. Not knowing quite what to do.

‘You have very smooth body. Not really a true man for us Turkish. Almost young boy body with no hair.’

‘I know. I often wish I was more hairy with good chest hair. Even growing a beard for me is a waste of time.’

‘We Turkish men all have beards, sign of a real man. Also good hairy bodies.’

‘That would be good’, Alan replied sheepishly.

‘You come to right place. Come into my work room.’

Entering Alan could see it was set up as a massage room with  towels and the massage table in the middle of the room.

‘First I put cover over table.’ Opening a drawer Mehmet took out a large black rubber sheet and spread it out over the table letting it drape down the sides.

‘Do not be surprised. I use good oils so need to have sheet under you.’

Alan could smell the strong Arab Oud perfume in the room something he had always found quite a turn on.

‘So because of oils you need to take off your underwear. Full naked. Then you lie on your back on table.’

The last thing Alan wanted to do was show his cock to this macho Turk thinking it was too small and soft for such a man.

‘You got boy cock but not bad not much pube. Massage will do you good. Make you feel more like a man just as I say on door. You come to right place. So lie flat out on your back.

Now I get ready and give you some special Turkish tea.’

Alan lay on his back not knowing what to do and part of him still wanted to get up and go before the Turk came back but there was something when he said ‘make you like a man’ that sounded interesting and worth trying.

The door opened and Mehmet stood in front of Alan holding a small glass cup of tea. His eyes were out on stocks as the Turk was standing there naked apart from a pair of light blue speedos showing of his cock and balls and both were thick and heavy almost pulling the speedos down off his crotch. But it was his body. The man looked like a gorilla with thick black hair from the top of his head to his toes. His nipples were hidden is a forest of curly black hair and it reached up and over his shoulders down  his arms. His pubes were covered in even thicker and if possible blacker hair at least 2inches thick which broke up in a burst of hair under his speedos.

‘If I use oil I also need little clothes so I can get down on your body. Don’t worry. Perhaps you not used to hairy man working on.’

‘No.’

‘Well this I know you will like. Before we start you drink this good Turkish tea. It will make you feel calm and enjoy more. All us Turks drink this, so you too. I see you look at my body. You like?’

‘It’s amazing.’

‘You like a body like this?’

I would but just look at me, it’s never gonna happen’

‘You never know’

Alan having never drunk this type of tea before decided not to smell in case he did not like it but just to drink quickly. He could feel the liquid sliding down the back of his throat and as it moved down it almost felt like a warm treacle, the more it went down the warmer it became and he could feel it moving to every part of his body and even his mind started to become more cloudy.

‘This tea relax you, make you enjoy massage more. It make your skin feel tingling and warm and sensitive as I take my hands all over your body.. Do not fight my hands but accept and soon you will start to feel good, a real man. Do not worry if you have erection. I have seen many cocks hard before and it will mean you enjoy what I am going to do to you.’

Alan lying flat out on his back felt slightly numb but it was all pleasure. He found if difficult to keep his eyes open but he so wanted to experience what Mehmet was about to do. He could smell the rubber sheet and even just the fact of lying on black rubber had started to make his cock twitch but he could not care. Mehmet had said it was quite common for men to get hard during massage and all he worried about was his white cock with little in the way of pubes.

‘I start on your feet and work up. I will now pour some oil over your feet and up your legs and then let it soak in for a few minutes. Enjoy the warm oil and the smell. The smell of the oil will change a bit as it runs onto the rubber sheet but then it is even better and stronger the mix. The smell of the rubber will seem strong and toxic.’

The Turk started on Alan’s feet and he could feel the thick hands massaging  the oil between his toes and then around his ankles and up and down the length of his feet. It felt good but he was aware that his feet seemed bigger and longer, certainly his toes felt larger but perhaps that was just because of the pulling method the Turk was using. The hands then started to work their up Alan’s legs first  to the knees, lifting his legs so he could get his oily hands under. The Turks hands were firm as they rubbed the oil deep into his skin and then they moved up the leg to his groin.

Alan let out a small groan of pleasure as he could feel the oil go deep into his skin. Almost touching an erogenous zone. But something was changing. As the hands rubbed deep, the wide palms covering his legs so they began to feel thicker, more muscular  and most oddly it wasn’t just Mehmet’s hairy hands but his legs felt hairy and not just slightly but more than that. It was as if the more Mehmet rubbed the more hairs on his legs which were few now seemed massively curly. His thighs he could feel had expanded and now Mehmet could not get his hands around them , he needed both his hands to work the thickness.

‘My massage give you good manly legs now.’

‘They feel so big and full of muscle. It’s incredible the feeling you are giving me.’

‘I said I would make you feel like a real man. Now do not worry what I do next as I must massage around your crotch. I leave your cock alone but you will have a good sensation and I know you will be very soon erect. I see many men with boners so Ok for me. I pour new oil around this area.’

Alan felt the heat of the oil seep into his balls and cock. It was not just warm but it was erotic and much as though he was trying to keep his mind of Mehmet working in his private parts he could feel his cock getting  erect. Mehmet started working around his balls and up under his arse, pressing down into his hairless pubes but the more Mehmet pressed the more resistance he seemed to have and the smoothness started changing. He could feel Mehmet’s hands rubbing into wiry hair and not just thin areas of hair but what seemed a massive jungle that had sprouted around his balls. He could not see what was happening but he felt this change. The Turk pulled slightly at his balls and these balls were no longer the pea size but thick tennis balls . The firm movement of Mehmet’s hands around his cock had unleashed a massive erection but Alan thought he knew what his hard cock felt like but this was different it now felt like a thick baton and much longer as well as thicker. In fact it felt amazing and all because of a massage.

‘Now I pour oil on your chest. This will make you now feel good and you will almost start to feel a bit Turkish.’

Not knowing what he was saying Alan said ‘Well if it’s to be a bit like you then I am fine with that.’

‘Good that is what I expect to hear from you.’

Mehmet’s hands dove deep unpwards spreading them across the body and up to Alan’s tits. The more the hand spread across his body the more he felt his smooth skin change. At first it felt a bit like he had sandpaper on his chest but quickly that changed into curly hair not just in small areas but his whole chest seemed to grow a forest and a wide forest at that. Mehmet’s hands met some resistance as they came to his pecs which before had no definition but now he had firm boobs. As his hands defined the shape so the Turk gave a slight pinch to Alan’s tits.

‘All men need to have their tits squeezed when they have a massage. You like?’

‘I am sorry I have very sensitive nipples.’

‘That is good. Now you got good big nipples so I give extra rub.’

As he squeezed a little more so Alan groaned but not with pain, but pleasure.

‘Don’t do any more please as it is making me feel horny.’

‘I move on to face but I think soon you will be feeling very horny. It is what my massage does when men feel like real good Turkish men.’

‘But I am not Turkish though oddly I am feeling very hairy like you but the tea you gave me it still making my eyes a bit blurred.’

‘Now you let me do you face and I rub oil all around your face and hair.’

‘Do you need to do the hair?’ Alan asked meekly.

‘Oh yes but you will like when finished and you have good thick oily hair.’

The Turk let his hands roam over Alan’s face especially his cheeks and neck and as they massage so dark hair started sprouting not just a little 5 o’clock shadow but quickly it went longer and longer until half Alan’s face had a thick black 3” beard from his ears to the base of his neck where it met the forest of black body hair. His slim jawline had changed to a square with thick set neck and his lips were no longer the thin pink but a wider and more pronounced brown. Even his teeth which Mehmet had not touched were now white and gleaming. He looked more like a Turkish dervish

The Turk then massaged Alan’s head and the long thin fair hair changed to a short black thatch with low hairline .

‘You feel good/”

‘Yeah it’s amazing I feel like a different person.’

‘You feel like a real man?’

‘Christ so much so and so horny.’

‘Good now turn round and I do your back and start with your shoulders.’

Alan still feeling drowsy did as he was told and lay face down his stiff cock even more erect now, pressing hard against the rubber mat. He could not resist letting his cock slide slightly up and down the oily rubber.

Mehmet noticed

‘Most men like black rubber against their cock. I can see you do.’

‘Sorry but it feels so horny.’

‘Don’t get too horny just yet I have not finished you.’

Alan felt the oil being poured over his shoulders and back. As it started to run down his body he felt the Turks hands scoop it up and then firstly he massaged the shoulders working the oil deep into Alan’s shoulder blades. He felt his body start to respond and it was as if his shoulders were growing. They felt strong and muscular but not just that, the hair he had felt creeping over his body was now springing up all across his shoulders and as Mehmet worked downwards so the hair continued.  He wondered what on earth he was looking like, he joked to himself that he might be looking like a gorilla but if he could look more like Mehmet then he would be more than happy.

Mehmet took hold of Alan’s thick hairy legs and pulled him down the rubber sheet.

‘Put your legs on the floor and then bend your body over the table so I can finish the massage.’

Alan let his size 12 feet drop on to the floor and bent over the table the heavy erect cock pressed against the edge of the table.

Letting some oil onto his hands he started to spread it over his cheeks moving both sides up and down  and widening the gap to expose more of his hole. As Alan felt the Turk spread his cheeks so he felt once more hair sprouting over the area and not just across his arse but right into his hole

You have very good arse. Nice and big a real man’s arse.

As he said this Alan felt  a finger pressing against his hole but as it was lubed up with the oil  is sank inside his hole easily

‘I think you need a bit more than one finger’ and with that Mehmet let a second finger slide up and move around and then a third. By this time Alan was reacting and letting his arse move further up in the air.

‘My God I’ve never had anyone’s finger up my arse before but you have three and there seems room for more. Its incredible. Shit I really want more.’

Mehmet took his fingers out and let them slip around his speedos. His cock was bursting out of the Speedos they were too small to contain his 9” thick piece of meat. Letting his prick spring out  he took the last of the oil and greased up his shaft, letting his massive hands stroke his cock head and run it up and down the shaft pulling the skin back ready to fuck.

‘So you would like more than 3 fingers? Now you get much better. You get my cock going deep inside you to complete the massage. That’s it just lift your hairy arse up and be ready.’

As Alan lifted his arse, the Turk put one arm under him lifting his arse towards his cock. Alan suddenly felt the thick oily head of Mehmet’s prick against his hole.

‘I don’t know if I can take this.’

‘You are a real man now so shut up and be fucked by a real hairy Turk it’s what you want most.’

Mehmet let his cock slowly in until his head had fully entered. Alan let out a gasp of a mixture of slight pain, surprise at the size but also pleasure

‘Now feel how a good Turk fucks.’ With that he rammed his cock all the way up to the hilt.

‘Now your arse can take a good cock and mine is the best. You are oiled up and the massage was always going to end this way. You knew that. That is why you come to me. You like Turkish men. You stared at all my hair. It’s what you want. It is what you are getting.’

Mehmet continued to let his cock slide in and out at first slowly as he wanted to savour every time he rammed it in but Alan’s arse was just too good to be too slow and he knew Alan wanted it rough. He started to move in and out with increasing speed his breathing rising with every shove

‘It’s too late to go back you no longer the boy who entered here. Now you are a man and I fuck you to become a good Turk.’

‘Ready I come now’ and with a final push Mehmet rammed in releasing wad after wad of cum.

Alan could feel it surging through his body like a strong wave of heat. His blurry vision was clearing and he was no longer feeling the skinny white young man who had entered Mehmet’s room. He felt big, burly, heavy, and most of all hairy.

Mehmet slid his cock out and wipe away the surplus cum. With both hand he brought Alan to stand upright and set him in front of a mirror.

‘Now see the man you have become.’

No he was not a goirilla but standing staring back at him was the image of a mean looking hairy Turk, thick set 6’ 2” with dark skin massive shoulders huge pecs and the large brown nipples he had felt shortly before. His thighs seemed huge and in the centre was a 9” thick cut cock still erect and almost vertical with a line of precum running down from the tip, From top to toe there was thick black hair, his massive beard all black and curly, the hair spreading across his chest and up and over his shoulders, down his arms and even his hands looked almost black they were so hairy.

‘Now you say goodbye to Alan, you will forget who you were. Now you are Aslan, you are Turkish and we speak Turkish but you speak English only with a strong accent.’

As Mehmet said this so Alan’s head became clear, he was looking at Aslan in the mirror and he was Aslan, a hairy Turk and mate of Mehmet.

Mehmet turned and said in Turkish

‘So tell me your name.’

I’ts Aslan, Aslan, Aslan’

‘You and me we only talk in Turkish’

‘Of course brother’

‘But you cannot continue to have that big erect cock. I need to help you, so lie down on the massage table.’

Aslan lay out, his cock throbbing having seen how much of a man he now looked.

Mehmet got up on the table and said ‘I sit astride you so I can give a good Turkish blow job. I want you to tongue me deep into my hairy arse.’

And as he let his arse over Aslan’s head he let rip with a fart.

‘We Turks like the smell of each other so you can have the smell of my arse in your head as you tongue me.’

 Aslan felt the smell of the fart deep into his nostrils. It was not bad but he loved the hard smell of his friend. It fired him even more to have his tongue deep inside while Mehmet sucked him off.

As Mehmet lowered his arse so Aslan brought his hands up to widen the hairy cheeks , his hole opening up to be properly licked.

Mehmet groaned as he said

‘I love my hairy arse sitting on that thick beard of yours. I love our hairs mixing together. Now I suck you off.’

With his arse firmly into Alan’s beard, Mehmet let his mouth over Aslan’s big cock which was so stiff after his fuck and now feeling his mouth against Mehmet’s s open arse. Mehmet let his tongue lick gently around the cock head, at times letting it into the opening his saliva running down Alan’s shaft.

Briefly he took his mouth out

‘Lucky for you I got a big mouth and can take this dick of yours. You will feel the end nestling  into my beard just like my arse on your tongue.’

As Mehmet started to feel Aslan’s tongue enter his crack his arousal caused him to quickly lower his mouth down the entire length of Aslan’s cock.

Aslan felt Mehmet’s mouth fully down his thick shaft, his mouth rubbing in to his thick curly black pubes. Feeling his cock fully down Mehmet’s throat made his tongue move deeper into the arse crack savouring the taste wanting to eat inside the hole and still feeling the smell of the fart. Mehmet was pushing his arse further down , pressing hard against Aslan’s beard. The two hairy Turks had almost melted together both using their tongues to give each other pleasure, one licking as far up the arse hole as he could the other letting the saliva run up and down the shaft while his tongue searched out the precum oozing out of Aslan’s head. Both men were groaning with pleasure. Aslan whose cock had for so long been hard needed at last to shoot his load and with his tongue wedged into Mehmet hole he erupted load after load of thick creamy white cum into Mehmet’s throat, Mehmet trying to swallow as much as he could. But the feel of Aslan’s tongue inside him was too much for him to hold off and without any hand around his own cock he shot his load for the second time, his spunk shooting out over Aslan’s hairy chest the white cum in such contrast to the swathe of black chest hair

Mehmet got off the bench and smiled.

‘Shit man, what a good fucking Turk you are. I am proud of the real man you now are. Go and shower and when you come back I have your new clothes ready and a mission for you.’

As Aslan showered and saw the water running down his hairy body he was also proud of the man he now was. He could hardly remember but for him it was only important that now he was a Turk, a hairy Turk, and real man. When he came back into the room Mehmet handed him the clothes.

‘Get into tehse, these are my old Hiviz clothes that I used to wear and they will fit you. I haven’t washed them for ages so you will take my smell with you. First put on my dirty white socks, tehn the overall, it’s an all in one orange HiViz. When you button it up make sure you leave several buttons undone at the top so people see that black hairy chest of yours. That’s good. Christ its tight around your balls and cock and I see a nice heavy outline. Perfect for your mission.  Now the steel capped boots and you look the perfect Turkish workie. I want you to go out and find a man you think would be better as a Turk like us. There need to be more men like us, hairy, sexy and always ready for a fuck. If you find someone then the you will know what to do. Come back when done as we have unfinished sex to have together. Mehmet put his arms around Aslan and the two men kissed their beards rubbing together as their throats explored each other’s mouths.

‘Now go.’

Aslan knew what to do and walked down the road to a café where he knew all the workmen got their food. Sure enough as he entered they were all sitting at tables in full Hi Viz all a mix of sizes and shapes from the young, fit and good looking to the more overweight. But the look of them and the smell of their dirty HiViz made Aslan start to feel horny. All that dirty Hiviz in one place both yellow and orange and some still wearing their hard helmets. As he passed a table a guy put out his hand

‘You new here mate?’

‘Yes’

‘Are you looking for work?’

The guy was fit with a shaved head and bulky body, a good 6’ wearing a yellow T shirt showing off his muscled arms, a vest and yellow Hiviz trousers.

‘Yes I look. You know something?’

‘Sure am, I’m the manager of the building site around the corner and we are always looking for strong guys. You look strong and willing.’

Aslan could see the guy looking him over with his overall unbuttoned half way down his chest and his thick mat of hair bursting out. As Mehmet had said the overall was a bit tight around his cock and balls and now Aslan who was standing so his cock was directly in front of the managers face was carefully studying

‘Where are you from?’

‘Turkey.’

‘I thought so with all that dark hair of yours.’

‘We Turks are real men.’

‘So I can see.’ the manager said

‘My name’s Dave by the way. Why don’t you come to the office around 5 when the guys will have left site and we can take this further and work something out.’

‘Yes that would be good.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Aslan’

‘A bit like Alan with an S.’

‘Yes but no Alan, Aslan.’

‘Look forwards to seeing you later.’

As Dave stood up he cast a final look at Aslans’s crotch and then shook hands

‘Good strong hands to have their mate.’

‘I’m very strong like all Turks, you will see.’

‘Bye for now ‘and as Dave walked out the café he turned round to have one last look at Aslan.

Aslan now knew his mission from Mehmet

At 5pm Aslan stood in front of the portacabin and knocked loudly. He wanted Dave to know he strong he was I every way. As he waited to go in he unbuttoned his overall a little more so it was open almost to his navel.

‘Come on in.’

Dave was sitting behind his desk still in his HiViz, his sleeves rolled up.

‘Good to see you, Aslan, I hoped you would come.’

‘I want work so I come and you seem good guy. I know you want me here’

‘So you are Turkish>’

‘Yes good worker’

‘You have done this sort of building work before?’

‘I can do all building work. You try me and see.’

‘Maybe you can work alongside me and I can find out what are your strengths.’

‘Oh I am very strong.’

Dave smiled

‘I can see that looking at your body.’

‘I have good body.’

‘You certainly have and tell me are all Turks as hairy as you?’

‘Many, you like hairy body?’

‘Well sadly I haven’t much body hair but I do admire it and think perhaps it would have been good.’

‘Do not worry all things can happen.’

‘A bit late.’

‘Never too late.’

‘You have opened your overall a bit more since I saw you earlier.’

‘I am hot so better like this.’

‘You look hot.’

‘Yes hot and horny you all say.’

‘I’m not sure you say that.’

‘I think so Dave as I can see what your hand is doing under the desk.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You are stroking your cock and I think nice and hard now. Looking at me making you horny.

You see my cock now getting big thinking of you.’

Aslan’s cock was now almost fully erect pushing out in his Hi Viz forming a well defined lump down one leg.

‘Maybe I take out for you to see. You like that I think.’

‘Sure would.’

Aslan shoved his hairy hand into his overall giving his thick cock and massage before pulling it out and letting it spring upwards.

‘Christ that is some cock and Jesus what a jungle of hair you have.’

‘I think you like hairy men and big cock. I saw you look at my cock this morning. I wanted to rub against you. So you just look? I think you come here. Let me see your dick and then you can suck a horny Turk.’

Dave stood up at his desk and his cock  was ram hard jutting out of his HiViz trousers. His hand was stroking both cock and balls through his trousers.

‘You like feel of your cock in Hi Viz. me too. You have good British cock. Now take out and me see.’

Dave unzipped and forced his erect prick out, the head already gleaming with precum..

‘I see your lips wanting cock. Kneel and suck. Now I am boss, your Turkish boss it’s what you want and what you need.’

Dave knelt as instructed and took Aslan’s balls in his hand almost unable to hold due to their bulging size

‘Great bloody balls you got.’

‘Big balls, big cock. So start to lick me.’

Dave still holding the hairy balls let his mouth over Aslan’s cock head smothering it with his spit, working the spit into his cock crack. Aslan groaned with pleasure feeling the spit working it way down the crack. He then let his mouth open as wide as he could as he knew he needed every muscle to take the full width and length of Aslan’s prick.

‘You like sucking cock I can see. I’m not first big dick you have.’

Aslan took hold of Dave’s head and directed it further and further down his shaft. At first Dave thought he would gag but he was desperate to feel this great tool all the way down his throat. Making sure he produced enough spit he took the whole length until he could feel those black hairy pubes brushing against his face

‘Good man now in and out. I help with taking your head.’

Aslan forced Dave’s head up and down the shaft with increasing speed until suddenly he stopped and pulled his cock out of Dave’s mouth.

‘Now I ready for fuck. Stand up and turn round.’

‘Not sure mate if I can take that monster of yours.’

‘You will take, you will like. I am stronger than you so I force you if not. You want a Turk to rape you? Anyway you will get good surprise.’

Dave decided that having sucked the dick with all his spit down the shaft and he could take it. Besides he wanted that cock all the way up him .

Aslan put his hands around Dave and unzipped his HiViz pulling then down

‘Ah so you have no underwear on. You like to be ready for fucking. You were waiting for me. You have nice bum but no hair. We see.’

Aslan let a large gob of spit drop onto his cock and the taking his hands on to the cheeks he forced them wide so he could see his cock at the hole

‘First is sore but good sore and then you want all.’

As Aslan pushed his cock in so Dave winced and let out a small cry with pleasure pain but once in he started to move his arse back to take in the full length as quick as possible.

‘I knew you like Turkish cock. This is real man cock what you want . You like to be like a hairy Turk.’

With the cock all the way up his arse, and with Aslan starting to have his heavy hairy hands work on his dick Dave shouted

‘Shit, oh to be a Turk.’

‘Good man, I call you brother.’

‘Go on fuck me hard, brother, and wank me with those hands of yours.’

‘We cum together OK?’

The more Asland pushed his dick in and out the more his hands rubbed Dave’s cock. He could feel Dave’s cock throbbing with lust

‘Now I shoot up your arse.’

With one final push Dave felt a great stream of cum racing up his arse as his own cum spurted out over the desk in thick creamy wads.

This was no ordinary fuck as Dave could feel his body as if on fire, his blood seemed to be almost boiling and he felt dizzy.

As Aslan removed his arse and Dave stood up grabbing the table for support he could see his arms changing  his skin going a deep brown and dark thick hair was sprouting down the arms and across the hands. His shaved face when he put his hand up to check was now not even a stubble but a full beard so thick it almost covered his mouth. As he looked at his chest the hair was springing out the top of his T shirt and as he pulled up his Hiviz his legs he could hardly see or a forest of black hair. As he looked at his crotch he now saw  a thicker bigger cock nestled in thick black pubic hair.His head was still shaved but that as about the only think not different. He felt confused but it felt good to be hairy.

‘You like being hairy?’

‘It feels fucking great, brother, but my head feels odd. I am beginning to forget my own name.’

‘You are now Turkish man, real man,  hairy man and your name is Demir. What is your name?’

‘Demir.’

‘That is good brother. We Turks are all brothers. No one fucks like us and now you speak in Turkish OK?’

Replying in the language Demir said ‘Brother you make me a man.’

‘We are fuck buddies now.’

‘I fucking well hope so.’

Now we go back to Mehmet and we have night of fucking each other. You will like that’

You are right, I want to use this big Turkish cock of mine’

‘Do not worry you will and that cock and arse are bigger and hairier than before.’

‘Tomorrow we find someone for you to make one of us.’

‘There is a young guy on site I think I want.’

‘ Then you have him, a young horny hairy Turkish man. Good then that makes more to fuck.’

[sluttywonwoo]

collision [part two] || h.js

pairing: virgin!fratboy!han jisung x best friend!reader

summary: jisung's fraternity brothers decide to pool their money and surprise him with a stripper for his birthday! nice gesture and all, but that stripper just so happens to be his best friend...

warnings: swearing, feelings, smut (18+ mdni)

additional warnings: m first time, grinding, boob sucking, f masturbation, protected sex, multiple orgasms

word count: 3.7k

-> read part one here

Jisung doesn’t know what this means. He doesn’t know if it means anything. You’re horny, he’s horny. Maybe you’re under the impression that you’re using each other as a means to an end. He’s too afraid to ask, too afraid to ruin the moment. What’s happening now is good and he should enjoy it while it’s happening, especially if it’s the only time this is happening. Jisung tries not to think about that (very likely) possibility, though, and focus instead on the feeling of your lips on his neck. 

You’re working his denim jacket off of his shoulders as you kiss your way down the column of his throat. You’re already topless, obviously. Jisung has been trying not to think too much about how he could feel your nipples through his shirt ever since you first sat on his lap and pressed your chest against his.

You’re careful not to drop the jacket on the floor, which Jisung appreciates. You’ve heard him complain about how hard they are to wash and you of all people know how disgusting frat houses can be. You, of course, had just done part of your routine on the floor but Jisung supposes that’s a sacrifice you’re willing to make in your line of work. You’ll shower later anyway. Maybe you’ll ask him to shower with you-

“Can you sit up a little?”

Your voice startles Jisung out of his train of thought. He lifts his head to look at you, blinks twice, and does as instructed, leaning forward so that you can tug his T-shirt over his head. 

“Is this still okay?” you ask. 

“Yeah, yeah this is great,” he breathes out. 

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

He expects to feel self-conscious about being shirtless in front of you in this context but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s because he’s been shirtless in front of you in other contexts or maybe it’s because you’re looking at him like you want to devour him. He’s willing to bet that it’s the latter. 

His shirt joins his jacket on an adjacent chair. You run a hand down his torso, then each of his arms, admiring his body with your lips slightly parted like you’re surprised by what you see. All of the lifting he’s been doing with Chris and Changbin must be paying off. 

He shivers under your touch, which seems to break the little spell you’d been under, making you smirk. 

“You can touch me, you know.”

Jisung realizes his hands have been stuck attached to your hips since you first put them there several minutes ago, while yours have been in his hair, cupping his face, feeling him up. Ugh, why was he so bad at this? He nods, sliding one of his hands up your back. His fingers trace your spine, palm resting on one of your shoulders. He isn’t really sure what he should do next. What usually happens next? He’s watched porn, a bunch of porn, what did the actors do after making out? 

Rationally, Jisung knows porn isn’t an accurate reflection of reality. But he doesn’t have much else to go off of. 

You stop kissing his neck and sit up to catch your breath and Jisung realizes the answer is staring him in the face, literally. 

“Can I, uh, can I use my mouth?” he asks.

“Fuck, yes,” you sigh. “You can do whatever you want.”

Jisung gulps and nods absently, eyes transfixed on your chest. He feels kind of silly as he sticks his tongue out and laves it over one of your nipples like he’s trying a new flavor of ice cream but you seem to like it. You gasp and jolt a little which encourages Jisung to keep going. He tests out a couple of different methods to see what you like the best, eventually settling on a pattern of sucking and flicking that has you whimpering his name in his ear. 

He doesn’t want to forget about your other boob so after a minute or so he switches, replicating the motions with his thumb on the first one. He isn’t sure how much time passes. It could be minutes, it could be hours. All he knows is that he could do this forever. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed because he’s the happiest he’s ever been with your tits in his mouth. 

“Ji,” you whisper, getting his attention by tugging on his hair. 

He reluctantly pulls away with a pout. “What?”

“Kiss me again.”

Oh. Well, he could do that too. He melts into you all over again when you press your lips to his. It’s sloppier this time, both of you drunk off the other. When he pulls away, he notices the way your lips shimmer with something sparkly. It’s glitter, he realizes. Body glitter. You always wear it for your shifts. He’d sucked it off of your boobs and now his lips and chin must be covered with it too. Like a reverse vampire. 

“‘This is the skin of a killer, Bella,’” you quote, running your thumb across his lips to collect some of the glitter. It was like you had read his mind. Maybe you really were Edward Cullen. “I hope this is safe to consume,” you add. 

Jisung shrugs. “Something’s gotta kill me someday.”

Instead of telling him off like you usually would, you stick your thumb in your mouth and suck, also swallowing some of the glitter. It was like you were saying if he was going to die, you were going to die with him. He thinks the gesture is very poetic of you, albeit stupid. 

But he figures body glitter has to be relatively harmless so he doesn’t feel too concerned about it. 

You lift yourself off of his lap so that he’s able to unbutton and wriggle out of his jeans. He puts them with his other clothes, leaning over to be able to reach the chair you’d chosen. He’s not sure whether or not you want him to take off his underwear yet so he keeps them on, looking back to you for further instruction. 

“You can take them off,” you say. “I’ll take mine off too but before I do, do you want me to suck your dick?”  you ask, kneeling in front of him. 

“No, no no,” he replies hurriedly, pulling you back to your feet. “I already know I’m not going to last very long. I don’t want to put myself at an even greater disadvantage.”

You snort. “Suit yourself.”

“But can I-” he pauses. 

“What?”

“Can I eat you out, though?”

“You want to eat me out on your birthday?” 

“Well, yeah,” he pushes his bottom lip out into a pout, making you chuckle and kiss him again, sucking on his lip to get him to moan into your mouth. 

“This is supposed to be about you, though,” you point out.

Jisung doesn’t know how to admit that wanting to eat you out is about him. He doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s something he’s fantasized about for years now, that it would be the (second) best birthday present you could ever give him. He can’t say any of that without confessing to his big fat crush on you so he lets it go. 

“Okay,” he concedes. 

“Next time, though?” you suggest as you bend over to take your thong off, making his eyes nearly pop out of his head at both the sight and the words coming out of your mouth.

Next time? There was going to be a next time? Jisung doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making but you must think he’s still sulking because you start to make a deal with him. 

“I’ll tell you what, if you want it that bad, you can eat me out once the clock strikes midnight when it’s not your birthday anymore. We can leave your little party early if that’ll make you happy. But for now, you can have a taste, if you want.”

 Jisung watches you spread your legs and slip two fingers inside of yourself. You sigh in relief and curl them upward, getting yourself even wetter for him. He already has his mouth open, (in shock) waiting, when you sit back on his lap. This time, he can feel your arousal on his bare thigh and it makes his cock twitch against the waistband of his boxers. 

You push your dripping fingers into his mouth, nodding approvingly as he sucks them clean. He moans around them, taking them deeper until your knuckles are brushing his lips. He wishes he could somehow deepthroat them but your fingers are only so long. You retract them far too soon for Jisung’s liking but he knows you need to move on if he’s going to get fucked and make it to his party before it ends. 

“Wow, Ji. You’re a little slutty, aren’t you?”  

“I didn’t know I would be,” he laughs breathlessly. “You bring it out of me.”

You put a hand over your heart. “I’m flattered. Now take your underwear off.”

Right. He had forgotten about that part. He had been distracted. You hover over his thighs as he slips out of his boxer briefs and tosses them to the side. He doesn’t care where they land. Underwear is easy to wash and who knows how many times Jisung has stumbled acros someone else’s boxers in this godforsaken fraternity house. 

“Didn’t know you were so desperate to get in my pants,” he jokes.  

You tilt your head to the side with a small smile he doesn’t know how to read. “Can’t you feel how wet I am?”

To punctuate your point, you grab his dick and lower yourself enough to run the head through your slick folds. It’s a rhetorical question so he knows you aren’t expecting an answer but he gives you one anyway, sputtering out a “y-yes, holy shit!” in response. 

Your hand is so warm and still a little wet from Jisung’s saliva and it feels perfect around his cock. He’s so fucked. You can’t help stroking his dick up and down a few times just to tease him, smirking as he tenses underneath you and grits his teeth in an attempt to stay in control of himself. 

Thankfully, you relent. “I’m going to get a condom now, okay? I’ve always got some in my bag.” 

Jisung doesn’t realize he’d had his eyes closed until he feels your weight disappear from his lap. He wonders when he shut them. 

You’re already on the other side of the room, bent over the bag you had gotten the speaker out of. The fact that you carry condoms in your work bag is interesting to Jisung. A lot of your rules implied that the people you... service don’t interact with you much at all. But they say there are exceptions to every rule... 

There had to have been times when you were just as attracted to the client as they were to you, right? But have you ever acted on that? He shouldn’t ask. It’s none of his business. He is curious, though. 

You return with a foil packet in one of your hands and offer it to him. 

“Would you like to do the honors?”

Jisung takes the condom and rips the packaging open with his teeth. You look impressed, which is a relief because he’s not sure if he’ll put it on correctly and he needs that buffer of you being turned on by something he’s done if he’s about to embarrass himself. He’s practiced putting condoms on before but never with an audience. His hands are shaking as he guides it down the shaft and he can feel you watching intently. It dawns on him that not only are you watching him struggle with something so simple, you’re also looking at his dick. Do you like what you see? Is he smaller than you were expecting? Uglier? He knows dicks aren’t exactly pretty but he didn’t think his was anything remarkable on either side of the spectrum. 

The longer he spends trying to roll it on, the more he feels panic building in his stomach so he decides he needs to say something to ease the tension, to shift your attention away from this pathetic little display. 

“Have you ever fucked one of your clients?”

God damn it. 

You shake your head adamantly. “Never.”

“So I get to be the first one?” he asks happily.

“You’re not my client,” you remind him. “So that rule is still intact.” He pouts. “Unless you want me to call, what’s his name... Chris? In here.”

Jisung narrows his eyes at you as you climb back onto his lap. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yes, Ji. It’s a joke.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“I know I am,” you scoff, then take him by the shoulders. “Still sure about this?” 

“Yes, yeah, I’m sure,” he assures you, nodding. You take his cock in your hand again and position yourself above it. “Just-”

You freeze, eyes wide. “Just what?”

“Can you kiss me? As you put it in?”

Jisung doesn’t hear how romantic the request sounds until he says it out loud but he had only asked because he’s afraid he’ll make an embarrassing noise or worse, confess his love to you, if his mouth isn’t occupied when you do sink down onto him.

Thankfully, you don’t question it and do as he asked as you, kissing him deeply as you slip the head inside of you. Jisung lifts his hips slightly to push himself into you a bit more. You gasp against his lips.

“Sorry, are you okay?” he asks through grit teeth. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Just give me a second to adjust.”

“Shit, sorry. I should have fingered you first or something,” he mutters. 

He feels so stupid. How could he forget something so important? Of course, grinding and your own fingers wouldn’t be enough to prepare you for the real thing. He hadn’t even stretched you out at all. 

“No, I wasn’t thinking,” you laugh. “I just wanted your dick so bad and I’m so wet I thought I’d be fine... but you’re huge.”

“Wha- am I?” 

“Yeah, dude, are you kidding me?” you laugh, still sounding strained. “I knew you had to be big but- stop smirking!”

“I can’t help it!” he cries defensively, covering his mouth with his hand so you can’t see it anymore. “Come on, you’d react the same way.”

You roll your eyes. “I guess.”

“Don’t even lie- god, fuck!” 

You had taken that exact moment to sink down further on his length, probably to get back at him. It worked, obviously. 

“What were you saying?” you taunt, raising yourself momentarily before dropping all the way down this time. 

“I don’t remember,” Jisung groans. 

“That’s what I thought.”

It takes everything in Jisung not to blow the instant he feels your hips flush with his the first time. He’s heard guys complain about condoms before, whining about how they can barely feel anything through the latex, but they must have the smallest dicks in the world because he can feel everything. 

Obviously, he knows fucking raw must feel better to some extent, but this is pretty damn good. 

You must think so too because you can’t keep your eyes open for more than a few seconds at a time. You can’t stop kissing him either, pressing your lips against his mouth, then his jaw, his neck, anywhere you could reach. He wishes he could kiss you back but all he can do is sit there and take it. All of his concentration, all of his energy, is being put into lasting as long as possible, lasting long enough to make it good for you too. 

“You feel so good,” you compliment, murmuring the words into his skin. 

“Not as good as you,” he whispers back. 

He’s not sure if he’ll make you cum but he wants to try so he snakes one of his hands between your bodies and starts feeling around for your clit, assuming he’ll know when he finds it. He has to be way off because you grab his wrist and direct him to it after a few seconds of mindless searching. 

“Here?” he asks.

“Mhm, right fucking there. Just rub in gentle circles and you’ll get me to cum in no time. A little less pressure- o-oh fuck...”

Some of the tension leaves your body and you rest more of your weight on Jisung as he moves his fingers in the way you’d told him to. He takes it as a good sign and keeps going. 

You try to maintain some semblance of a rhythm as you bounce on his lap but the added stimulation on your clit makes it difficult. Jisung tries to help but he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. 

You’re a little too gone to guide him but he doesn’t mind. He can figure it out. Probably. He’s not any better off, mind completely clouded with thoughts of you, you, you. He’s wanted this for so long, wanted you for so long, that it’s hard to believe it’s actually happening and almost impossible to focus on anything else. 

“You’re going to- Jisung, you’re going to make me cum,” you whimper. 

“I am?”

“Yes, I’m so close please don’t stop!”

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop after you cum the first or the second time. He just fucks you until you’re digging your nails into his back and clenching around him so tight that he can’t stave off his own orgasm any longer. It goes on for what feels like forever. His vision goes white and his ears start ringing and he only knows you came again because his back starts stinging with fresh scratches. 

You’re boneless when he regains his sight and feeling in his legs. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing soothing circles on your back. 

“I’m fantastic.”

Jisung laughs. “I was okay?”

“Okay? You were incredible. Seriously. Best fuck of my life.”

He doesn’t know how true that statement is, figures your judgment is a little lacking in your post-nut haze but he decides not to question it. If you say he was the best fuck of your life he’s going to take your word for it. 

“Was it good for you?” you ask.  

“Oh my god, yeah of course,” he assures you. “I couldn’t have asked for a better first time. Thank you, again, by the way.”

You sit up a little and cup his face with your hands. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s not like I was just doing you a favor. I wanted it too.”

He sighs. “I know but-”

“Jisung. I feel the same way. I’ve wanted this too.”

He stares at you. “What?”

You stare back at him. “When we were...  you know. You said you’ve wanted this for so long?”

“I said that out loud?” he gasps. “Wait, is that... is that what made you cum the first time?”

You duck your head, suddenly shy. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god. You like me too?”

You smack him on the arm. “Yes, idiot. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed.”

“But you never told me! You dated other people!”

“Because you never made a move!”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship!” he looks away for the next part. “And because I was scared you didn’t feel the same way. How was I supposed to know?”

“Ji, why else would I have stayed and offered to give you a lap dance after figuring out it’s you, my best friend, that I’m supposed to be dancing for? It’s because I like you as more than a best friend!”

“That can totally be a best friend thing!” he argues. 

“In what world?!”

“I don’t know! It’s my birthday, don’t yell at me!”

Your eyes widen with panic and realization. “Oh shit, your party!”

-

“That was the longest thirty minutes ever,” Minho comments loudly as you and Jisung walk into the foyer together. He’s smug as he claps Jisung on the back but is ultimately ignored because everyone else is already swarming the two of you to wish your best friend a happy birthday.

You and Jisung had rushed to get dressed and make yourselves presentable after remembering why you were there in the first place, promising each other that you would talk about the serious stuff later. 

“Yeah, are we getting charged extra for that?” Chris asks you under his breath, having pulled you both aside. He checks his watch and grimaces at how much time has actually passed since he left you with his friend. 

“No, no, it’s on the house,” you assure him with a wink. 

“Thank god. We don’t have the budget for that. Oh, but you know, Felix, another one of our brothers, has a birthday tomorrow. Are you doing anything?”

Jisung interjects before you can answer for yourself. “She’s busy.”

Chris looks back and forth between the two of you, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Um, yeah, I’m not available tomorrow,” you stutter, giving Jisung a what the fuck side-eye. “Sorry.”

“Okay, well, if your schedule clears up, Jisung should bring you by. Not to work, just as a guest.”

“I’ll try to make it,” you promise.

Chris gives you a thumbs-up and disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with Jisung again. He’s sure his other fraternity brothers will find him soon enough, though, and drag him off to do shots or something. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to cockblock a work opportunity,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I don’t think cockblock is the right word to use there,” you scoff. 

“I think it is if I was thinking with my cock,” he shoots back. “I just wanted to have you to myself for twenty-four hours, is that okay?”

And maybe he also didn’t want another one of his brothers getting a birthday lap dance from you so close to his birthday. Sue him. 

You smile and kiss him on the cheek. “Of course. Anything for my birthday boy.”

Your birthday boy. Jisung likes the sound of that. But to be fair he likes the sound of anything if it means he gets to be yours.

apologies for the delay but lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

[yutxsgf]

Bakugou was always the aggressive type, but you just do something to him that he can't explain.

Cw; Fluff, character POV, Fem!Reader

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺

It all started the moment you walked into class, your soft demeanor, your resting soft natural look, your pink lightly glossed over lips. God, he couldn't help but fluster at the sight. You were so fucking stunning.

But would he ever admit it? No, not over his own grave.

Yet he'd always think it, especially since somehow, you got wrapped up in his squad instead of Deku's. How? He has no fuckin' clue. Just like with his heart, you managed to squirm your way into his "friend" group.

Even so, he'd always wish you'd switch sides and go with that damn nerd's group instead of his. Why? Because every single time he gets asked to hang out, you're there. You're there, overpowering every single one of his senses with your strawberry perfume. Every. single. fucking. time.

And even during class, you're there to disturb him with your damn strawberry scent. Because of course, you were swapped to sit next to him. Of course.

And of course, you were sometimes sat beside him during lunch. Why wouldn't you be? God, he can never catch a break, can he?

He doesn't know why you're so.. you. Nor does he know why you're fuckin' everywhere. And he doesn't know why he feels the way he does around you. But he wants it to stop. He wants you to stop. And that's why he's here, standing right before you with a deep scowl.

"Can you stop?"

"Wha?"

"Stop."

You just innocently tilt your head, obviously confused with this interaction. But did he care? Yes. But was he going to act like it? No.

"What are you talking about?"

He stayed silent, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as he eyed your figure.

"Nothin' just stop coming near me, Damn it."

Turning on his heel, he walked away with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Whyd he say that? Did he hurt your feelings? Oh God, did he make you cry? Fuck. What's wrong with him?

"So.. you don't like me..?"

He froze mid-step with his eyes blown wide. What'd you just say? His head ever so slowly turned to glance at you over your shoulder.

He could feel his heart being wrenched out of his chest when he saw soft tears adorning your slightly chubby cheeks, barely ruining the soft faint blush of make-up as they dribbled down your cheeks.

"What?"

"You.. sniff, don't like me..?"

For once, he didn't know what to say. He didn't have any rude words of rejection stored away for you. He didn't have a stream of curse words at the tip of his tongue. He didn't have the urge to laugh in your face. The only thing he wanted to do was wipe your precious tears away with his thumb before giving you a soft kiss on your forehead.

"What're.. What.. Huh?"

"K-Kaminari said.. he said that you liked me like you like everyone, you just don't know how to show it.."

He could feel the veins popping out of his skull. He was going to blast him to the next state over, swear it. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't be here crying. If it weren't for him, he wouldn't be here having a dilemma on whether he should ignore you and walk away because he can't handle his feelings or walk up to you and hold you til' you stop crying.

God damn it.

The moment you lowered your head to look down at your feet, he was there in an instant, one hand splayed against the small of your back with his other on the back of your head as he pushed you forward into his body, embracing you in a warm, burnt sugar and caramel scented embrace.

You inevitably froze, your light sobs immediately ceasing as your arms dropped to your sides.

He didn't know what he was doing, or why he was doing it.

That's a lie. He knew what he was doing and why, but he truly didn't feel like it because whenever you were around, his conscious and train of thought flew out the window.

"Dumbass, I never said I didn't like ya."

"So you do like me?"

"I guess."

"Is that a no?"

"Fuck, yes, I like you damn it."

"..."

"I KNEW IT!"

The both of you flinched with him immediately pulling away from you as his head snapped to glance over his shoulder only to find his, and now your group of friends all cheering and dancing.

He felt his blood begin to boil. What's going on? Did they put you up to this? He swore he was gonna–

"Please don't be mad.. it wasn't fully their idea.."

The moment he felt your arms wrapping around his waist from behind, all the anger and aggression immediately disappeared, leaving nothing but a blank expression.

The things you do to him would actually literally drive him up the wall. He swore it. Which is why he turned around in your grasp and placed a warm hand on the small of your back once more.

"You're so fuckin' lucky you're adorable."

"Awwww.."

"Mommy sounded so cute back then!"

"Hell– Uh.. 'Course she was."

You giggled, watching as your now husband and pro-hero Dynamite told your kids the story of how the both of fell in love.

"Was?"

"Is. She is adorable."

"That's what I thought."

[kafus]

ever since liko lost in her battle against chili back in HZ056 i've been pretty passionate about wanting liko to win her future battle against grusha, partially because i just love her and want to see her win after such a heart-wrenching defeat, but also because i thought it would be good character writing - she loses, but learns to be passionate about battling in the process, and then she can apply that to her next major fight and win as a result. that was my thought process.

as HZ063 drew closer however, i started feeling like that maybe isn't what would happen - the way episodes have panned out, she hasn't really had any major battle training since her loss against chili (her joining roy with "awesome training" does not count LOL), and that massive cetitan and the type disadvantage started to really loom over the whole thing. but i still wasn't sure and by the time HZ063 came out this weekend, i genuinely had no clue what to expect, i just hoped the character writing payoff would be good, win or lose.

AND IT WAS!!! thank fucking god i love liko so much i need more really good liko episodes. i'm eating this up

first off: liko REALLY shows off what she learned from battling chili. honestly an absolute treat to watch. her level of increased confidence and focus honestly made me feel spoiled as a fan. never once did she take her eyes off the battle, she was not distracted by grusha being a hardass, and she's able to think through being pinned into a corner to turn the tides despite the odds stacked against her.

everything from the strategic switch to tebrim, to firing off magical leaf into huljukira's mouth, to grabbing tyltalis by the tail/feet... she's actually a really crafty and thoughtful battler when she sets her mind to it, which makes sense because her battle preferences are more to do with her mind than raw strength. even roy remarks "nice control" because she has notable precise control over her pokemon's actions. point is the payoff for her character development in her battle against chili was still present... despite her loss.

and man does this loss sting like a bitch after watching her perform so well... AND on top of that grusha is a complete asshole about it. like UGH it just hurts to watch. and frankly there's no excuse as someone in grusha's position to be treating students that way... but there is a reason. and the reason makes this episode super fucking interesting. i really like how it was handled, actually.

pretty much directly after a scene where grusha interrupts the trio having fun sledding with the arukujira, we're presented with grusha's backstory about why and how he quit snowboarding. the writing is essentially saying, here's grusha being a no-fun, shitty person, and here's why he's like that. (notably, the trio was doing something similar to snowboarding and had to dodge being injured themselves...)

what's important, though, is that we also find out that grusha didn't quit snowboarding because he was too seriously injured to ever do it again, just that it would be harder for him to achieve the same results he used to. he made a conscious, emotionally fueled decision to quit, because like the man says: he's harsh on everyone, himself included.

at this point, he is basically the opposite of liko, and to the general themes of most stories in pokemon. he is not an incredible pokemon trainer because of passion, in fact he only became a trainer after his snowboarding accident just so he'd have something to succeed at again. he is not an incredible pokemon trainer because of friends or adventure or any other reason than a desperation to reach the same artificial "success" heights that he did before his accident. not to say that he's inhuman - forgiving the arukujira that caused his injury, patting it on the head, and becoming its trainer, signals a sense of personal guilt over the situation, and the arukujira in question obviously likes him despite his behavior. but it's a very strong contrast to what liko learned in HZ056, with being connected with her pokemon through battle, and enjoying fighting tough opponents even though she could lose.

and it's important to note that even as far back as HZ056 itself, grusha was framed as a contrast to liko. he approaches her and his coldness (no pun intended) immediately slices into the atmosphere of the scene and liko's improved mood, and he implies that liko is weak for being happy after losing, because all he personally cares about is winning and being on top.

all of this is to say that grusha is in the wrong to fail liko, he's in the wrong to talk down to her the way that he does. and this is made clear by the writing! when liko loses and grows from it, grusha's there to say something negative about it. when liko is having fun with her pokemon and her friends, he sarcastically remarks that she must be "pretty confident" if she has time to "goof off." the man in the gym says that he could have kept snowboarding, but he quit, as opposed to liko who gets back up again. everyone thinks he's harsh and offputting.

and at the end when grusha fails her, even dot and roy are like, no, maybe he'll pass you or give you a second chance! because they (rightly) experienced those things and were able to grow from those experiences, so surely the same would be the case for liko? but no! and it's a shock to everyone!

the sound effect paired with liko's surprised face clearly indicates that this is supposed to shock the viewer just as much as it shocks liko and her friends.

and her friends are so surprised that they even try to argue with grusha about it!! it is unfair and wrong! and that's so fucking interesting!!! grusha is a flawed adult character, he's not part of the explorers but he's still treating liko wrongly as opposed to with the support that most of the adults in her life have given her, and he has a reason which makes him compelling, but not an excuse. for the type of show this is i am continually surprised by the complexity of some of the character writing, and this hits particularly well. liko's loss feels meaningful... and like setup for something.

to me, this episode seamlessly bridges off of liko's character development set in motion in HZ056, and also makes her character more clear through her contrast with grusha. i definitely don't think this is truly the end of this plot thread - whether or not liko actually gets to fight grusha again sometime in the future or something else, i definitely think liko will get to prove herself in some way, that pokemon battles aren't just about winning or losing and that grusha was indeed in the wrong. and i do hope she gets to fight grusha again or grusha gets to see her prove herself in the future, because it seems like the guy needs to learn to loosen up and have fun and be passionate, too.

i feel even more sure of this because amethio is in the upcoming episode (thank god, i missed him) and grusha parallels amethio in a lot of ways - they both work very hard to be stronger, but just because of a desperation to succeed, and they're both absolutely miserable and irritable as people because of it, though of course amethio's motivations for being this way are very different. i won't speculate too much about the next episode right now but i am hoping that this will be pointed out by the narrative in some way - an amethio episode coming right after this feels... intentional to say the least lol.

the intentional nature of horizons' character writing and its ability to follow through on things it sets up episodes ago never fails to impress me tbh. really good episode. i fucking love liko

[irkimatsu]

So llike just had the idea of; Husk fell asleep at the bar and reader finds him and puts a blanket over him. He starts purring and they are overwelmed with the need to pet him so they do which causes more purring and him to sleepily nuzzle their hand. When they pull their hand away the purring slowly dies down so they start petting him again. <3

The fluff train continues! About 1k words of GN!Reader taking care of a tired, overworked Husk. Someone please let this man rest I beg of you.

---

How does he sleep like that? It can’t possibly be comfortable.

You know it’s not his fault, really. It’s a combination of overwork and alcohol that causes Husk to constantly pass out standing up, his head resting on the bar. Surely he’d be in his bed if he had the choice.

You wish you could do something. You’ve tried on multiple occasions to rouse him from his sleep, but he never budges when he’s this far gone. You can’t move him, either; he’s just dead weight like this. Any attempt would only leave him on the floor, which would obviously be even worse. 

Instead, all you can do is keep him company when he’s passed out. You’re sure he doesn’t notice your presence; he’s never brought it up while awake, anyway. Still, it makes you feel better to not leave him alone for the whole night.

Tonight is like so many other nights. While most of the hotel’s residents have long since gone to bed, you’re sitting up at the bar with an unconscious Husk. You’ve always been a bit of a night owl, so it doesn’t bother you to not be in your own bed.

Despite the dire circumstances that led to his falling unconscious again, Husk seems surprisingly peaceful. He at least had time to fold his arms on the bar and rest his chin on them, rather than face-planting onto the bar with his neck bent at a horribly uncomfortable angle. His wings are folded in and relaxed, and his tail is hanging low and gently swishing, the feathers lightly brushing against the floor. His hat fell off when he passed out, so you picked it up, dusted it off, and placed it on the bar for him to retrieve when he woke up.

You rarely see him without his hat, so you often forget what he looks like without it. Hair-like fur is bunched in the middle of his head, sticking out in wild directions. Does he ever brush it? Perhaps he doesn’t feel the need to when it’s always under the hat anyway.

It looks so soft… you wonder what it’d be like to comb your fingers through it.

Husk stirs slightly in his sleep, but he’s not anymore conscious. He only grumbles and shivers before slumping against the bar again, his eyes never opening.

Come to think of it, it’s an awfully cold night tonight, and for reasons you don’t quite understand, the poor man never wears a shirt…

There’s a blanket laying on the lobby’s couch, so you step away just long enough to retrieve it. It’s an off-white fleece, and incredibly soft; of course someone like Charlie wouldn’t cheap out on her guests’ comfort. You bring it back to Husk and drape it over his back. It doesn’t cover him much at first due to his wings, but he reflexively pulls them in until the blanket settles over his shoulders.

You return to your stool and resume your nightly watch over him. Is it just you, or does he look more relaxed now? You could swear his eyebrows are less furrowed, and his mouth isn’t turned down quite so much.

Most tellingly, if you listen closely, you can hear the faintest hint of a purr rumbling from his throat.

It’s not the first time you’ve thought of how handsome he was, and the removal of his hat is only strengthening your opinion. He may be a grouchy old man who’s dealt with too much bullshit in his life to ever let his guard down again, but that only intensifies his care for the other residents, tough as that care may be. You know he means well, and only wants to spare you and the others from screwing up your own lives as badly as he did.

Yet, a softer side does shine through the near-perpetual anger sometimes. A side that’s been learning when you don’t need your mistakes rubbed in your face. When he simply lets you speak or remain silent after a hard day, giving you a soft look and encouragement while realizing it isn’t yet the time for advice… that’s the Husk you want to know more about, and the Husk you currently see sleeping in front of you.

God, the fur on his hair looks so nice… you can’t help yourself anymore. You run your fingers over it, just once, lightly enough to not wake him (as if he can be awoken from this state). It’s even softer than you imagined, feeling just like cat fur instead of human hair. You give his head a few more strokes, thinking about how nice he’d look if he’d brushed it, maybe slicked it back…

You could swear he’s purring more loudly now.

You’ve already started sating your curiosity, so you may as well keep going. Still keeping your touches light, you stroke your way behind his ear, then to his cheek. Your fingers sink into the fluff as you gently scratch the skin underneath.

He leans his head into your hand and nuzzles.

You pull your hand back in shock, not expecting his response. Have you woken him after all?

His frown deepens as he settles his chin back into his arms, and his tail gives a frustrated lash. His eyes still aren’t opening, and his purring goes quiet.

He’s stopped moving for a while, so you take a chance and scratch his cheek again. He responds in the same way, leaning into your hand and purring louder than ever. Since he seems to be enjoying it, you place your other hand on his other cheek and scratch him there, too. After a few scratches, you cup his cheeks in your palms and scratch behind his ears.

He’s purring like crazy now, tilting his head slightly to make sure your fingers are rubbing just the right spots. His tail raises into the air and waves, and his claws flex against the wooden bartop.

“Husk…” you whisper.

He whispers your name back and slightly opens his eyes. You immediately pull your hands back as if his face was suddenly scalding hot.

“Where am I…?” he murmurs groggily before his eyes close again. “My knees fuckin’ hurt…”

“You should go to bed,” you tell him, pointedly ignoring what you’d just been doing to him. “The bar was supposed to close hours ago.”

“Ugh… finally…” His mouth opens wide in a feline yawn, and then he stands up. The blanket starts to slip from his shoulders, but he catches it and wraps it more tightly around him. “This yours?”

“I got it from the couch,” you say. “You can keep it.”

“Good. It’s fuckin’ cold… no wonder everything fuckin’ hurts…” He yawns again as he walks out from behind the bar. “I need a day off… was havin’ a good dream… hate wakin’ up from good dreams…” He doesn’t acknowledge you further as he shuffles off to bed, grousing to himself the entire time.

Perhaps, even while he’s alone, his “dream” will pick up where it left off.

[calypsocolada]

PRACTICAL | s. shinazugawa

synopsis: you work at the butterfly mansion and your least favorite hashira comes to visit.

authors note: this is my first fanfic so please be nice haha I kinda just wrote this without any direction. I know nothing about medical stuff so bear with me.

cw warnings: mentions of blood, some cussing, slightly suggestive. that’s it I think let me know if I missed anything!

wc: 2.5k

________________________________________

One word that you’d use to describe Sanemi Shinazugawa was cold. Cold like the icy morning air that stung your cheeks. That made you grab scarf and pull it up over your nose to hide from its sharp bite.

You worked at the butterfly mansion, all the great Hashira’s came through here. All of them so different. Giyuu was quiet but kind. Mitsuri outgoing and thankful (you always liked when she was around). Tengen was flirty, claiming that he had room for another wife before winking at you. And although that offer was tempting he was far too much for you, you did like his wives though. You never really saw Obanai much but on the off chance you did you gave him space, he didn’t seem much of a talker. You never met Gyomei. Rengoku was one of your favorites, he went completely out of his way to make you laugh, to share his food with you and sometimes while he was training, he’d teach you a few things. Tokito was adorable, he wasn’t around much but when he was you loved talking with him. Explaining things that he didn’t understand and smiling when he did. Now Sanemi, he was your least favorite hashira. He was rude, loud and obnoxious. You’d pray that you got someone else’s bedside to take care of when you saw him being carried into the mansion, bloody and bruised. He wasn’t even conscious this time and still you were annoyed.

You remember when you first met him, you smiled as you brought his food and medicine and although he didn’t return the sentiment you still were polite. You asked how his day was, he grunted. You helped him eat (both of his arms were broken) he gripped at you to go faster. You gave him his medicine and he laughed when you dropped the cap on accident. When he was a bit better to be able to stand and train his body back he was 10x worse! He called you healer girl even though you reminded him of your name countless times. He never left you alone, he’d follow you around and crack stupid jokes, he’d splash water in your face multiple times during the cup game and once when you were talking with another girl, he eavesdropped and laughed at something you considered a low moment in your life. Right then and there you decided Sanemi Shinazugawa was your least favorite person.

The next few times he came around you purposely made sure you were halfway across the mansion at all times, busying yourself with other things. You heard from some other healers that he was in bad shape after your second day of hiding. You felt terrible.

“Is he conscious?” You’d asked one of the girls.

“No! We’re all very worried!” She answered back. You sighed. You were the best healer and if you kept hiding out because of some stupid things you’d feel responsible for not helping. So you dragged yourself to Sanemi’s room. He was currently sharing a room with Rengoku. A smile lit up your face at the sight of him.

“Ren! What’re you doing here?” You exclaimed as you ran across the room, he jumped to his feet to meet you in a hug and spun you off your feet. You laughed happily as he sat you back down.

“Got here at the same time as Nemi here, I was in a bit better shape then him.” Rengoku fills you in. You turn to look at Sanemi. He was pale, his cheeks flushed, he had cuts and bruises littered all over his skin, his torso was wrapped with white gauze that clearly needed to be changed because some blood was seeping through. “Wondering where you were, thought maybe you were away or something.” Rengoku says as you walk over to Sanemi’s bedside. He was sleeping fitfully, obviously uncomfortable from the pain. You reached out, the back of your hand pressing against Sanemi’s forehead. He was burning up, his cheeks and forehead clammy.

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whispered as you reached for a cloth, dousing it in cold water and ringing it out. “I was hiding.” You told Rengoku. His brows turned in in confusion. You made a face and signaled to Sanemi. Rengoku’s eyes grew as he mouthed the word ‘oh’ as though he understood. You pressed the cold cloth to Sanemi’s forehead and he seemed to relax just a bit.

“I too like to hide away from my feelings.” He joked and your face instantly blushed.

“Negative feelings.” You corrected quickly.

“Negative?” Rengoku echoed. “You don’t have a crush?”

“No! Of course not!” You burned, trying to keep your voice as a hushed whisper. Rengoku cocked his head like a dog at you, you rolled your eyes, turning back to Sanemi. He’d moved closer somehow, clearly unaware of who was currently taking care of him. You pulled the rag away and rung it out with cold water again, pressing it to his cheeks as you pulled the cover from his body. He was radiating heat so before you could change his bandage you needed to get his temperature down just a bit. Rengoku watched quietly as you got to work. Slowly evening out Sanemi’s temperature.

“He likes you.” Rengoku whispers into the silence. Your eyes snap up to his, hand pausing before you checked his temperature again.

“I think you’re very mistaken, Ren.” You corrected as Rengoku squinted his eyes.

“He told me you were his favorite…” Rengoku trailed off, looking up as if trying to recall the memory fully. You shook your head with a laugh.

“Ren, please.”

“No it’s true! He asked for you before he lost consciousness.”

“He probably said healer girl, there’s tons of us.”

“He said y/n.” You paused, looking over at Rengoku.

“He doesn’t know my name.”

“Of course he does! He talks about you the most when he’s drunk.” You blushed deeply suddenly. There was no damn way Rengoku had this all right. The man wouldn’t lie to you but he must’ve misheard. “He talks about your hair, he likes the color, and your laugh and-“

“Shut your- damn mouth.” Sanemi suddenly growled causing you to jump, his eyes were narrowed at Rengoku. Rengoku held in a laugh as Sanemi starts to sit up.

“No, no. You can’t-“

“I feel fine.” Sanemi pushed your hands away but he was grimacing and getting paler by the second. You swallowed before pushing him back down by the shoulders.

“You are not well!” You snapped. He looked at you surprised. You’d raised your voice at him, your eyes like molten lava. He was quiet, didn’t push your hands away this time. Your jaw tightened as you backed up. “You never listen to me so I’ll call another healer to-“

“No.” Sanemi cut you off. You stared at him.

“No?” You echoed angrily. He didn’t look at you, his cheeks were turning red, he must’ve been heating up again from being awake. He didn’t look even when he talked to you.

“I don’t want anyone else to help, I want the best.” You felt every nerve in your body heating up, your throat dried. The once anger you felt slightly calmed in your chest. Replacing itself with embarrassment or something close to it. You’d forgotten Rengoku was in the room, observing this moment when he cleared his throat.

“I think I’ll go for a nice walk, leave you two to… this.” He said, leaving swiftly. When the door shut and silence prevailed you cleared your throat.

“I’ll help if you don’t fight me on everything.” You said in the silence. For a moment you think he hadn’t heard you until slowly he nodded his head. You sighed, grabbing the rag that had fallen and running it back under cold water. “Lay back.” You directed and just like he promised Sanemi laid back as you dabbed the cold water on his cheeks and forehead. This moment was silent and intimate and for once you didn’t dread being beside him. That was until Rengoku’s words drifted back into your head. About you being his favorite and how he talked about you often when drunk. You almost laughed out loud at the thought.

“What is it?” Sanemi asked and suddenly, you had checked out slightly but blinked and you were back to reality.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response.

“You look— amused.” He says. Your thoughts must’ve shown a bit on your face. You masked over it and shook your head. You reached back on your cart for some more gauze and some solution and when you turned back Sanemi was watching you, not angrily like usual but almost reverently, like he was interested in what you were doing.

“I’m gonna replace your bandages.” You said and he nodded his head. You helped him sit up, he shivered at your cold touch as you unwrapped his torso. It wasn’t terribly bad, but the stitches were coming loose which had caused some bleeding. “Did you try and get up last night?” You asked as you reached for you medkit. Sanemi cleared his throat and you looked at him. He looked guilty. “You did didn’t you.”

“I felt fine.” He says sheepishly. Then adds. “But I passed out in pain before I could get out of the room.” He says and this time, even though through a patient doctor relationship it wasn’t funny, you laughed.

Stubborn as hell Sanemi had passed out because of his stupid actions. Karma. Sanemi looked at you, watched as you softly laughed and slowly the smallest smile spread on his lips.

“That’s not very professional of you.” Sanemi said and suddenly you realized he was teasing. He wasn’t some angry hashira he actually had a personality.

“You’re right,” You start in doing his torn stitches carefully. “It’s not funny.” You said but you were still laughing. That was when like the world had tilted on its axis and flipped 180 degrees. Sanemi pushed up slightly, damning the pain in his torso to press a fervent kiss to your lips. You froze, the moment slowly dawning on you. Sanemi, who claimed to dislike you and not know your name, was leaned over, hand tangled in your hair as he kissed you as if you were going to disappear at any moment. It was odd, but not a bad odd, just crazy. You’d sooner think lightening would strike you inside rather than this man kissing you. And something even stranger was that you were enjoying it, it felt as though everything else in the world had paused around you. Allowed you to have this one moment to yourselves. He kissed you feverishly, like he’d die if he pulled back. That was until Sanemi cursed against your lips.

“Fuck,” he grunted, pulling back, pain splintering all through him. You blinked back to reality at the sight of fresh blood flowing from his wound.

“Oh-“ you gasped, reaching for a cloth, pressing it against the flowing blood. Clearly he’d lost his mind, so sick and riddled with pain that he kissed you. He probably had no idea he’d done it. You rationalized stupidly as you pressed the rag a bit more and slowly the blood cotted. You both didn’t say a word as you slowly stitched his wound back together, lifting him up to rewrap the gauze. When you laid him back down he weakly caught your wrist. His eyes were so soft on yours. You shook your head. Whatever he had to say it wouldn’t really be him thinking it.

“You’re not yourself right now.” You said but his grip tightened just barely.

“You think a little pain would make me kiss you?” He asks. You burn red all over, you open your lips to speak but he pulls you to him by your wrist, you mouth falling against his. He kisses you more desperately this time. A hand reaching up and sliding into your hair, pulling you even closer to him. You’re coaxed entirely to easy into his lap and you feel him whimper in pain against your lips. It’s a sobering sound. You pulled back, this couldn’t happen.

“Sanemi, we shouldn’t-“

“I want you.” He whispers into the space between you. Rengoku’s words coming to fruition right in-front of your eyes. You shook your head in disbelief. “I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.” You laughed, fully pulling back from him.

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not that sick.” He refuted, you reached your hand out, pressing against his forehead, he was warm but not burning up like before. “Y/n-“

“No. I don’t want to hear what you have to say.” You snapped. Sanemi watched you curiously as you gathered up your things.

“Why not?” He asked as you looked at him in disbelief.

“Because I don’t believe you.”

“I kissed you twice, what’s not to believe?” He argued.

“That you kissed me in the first place! You— you hate me!”

“No I don’t.”

“Yes you do!” You threw back. Sanemi shook his head with some sort of finality.

“No. I really don’t.” You stared at him, anger bubbling up.

“Then why call me healer girl? Never using my name when I tell you too! Or annoying me and being rude? Is that how you treat people you care about?” Sanemi stared at you as you spoke. He swallowed and looked away. Nodding his head a moment later.

“I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to what? Treat me like a person?”

“I didn’t want to fall for you.” Sanemi growled, eyes jumping to yours. Your mouth fell open with the confession. “I thought if I was rude to you that you’d just— that you’d stay away from me. But you didn’t. You kept showing up, being charming and unbelievably beautiful and stupidly funny I couldn’t— I couldn’t help it!” Sanemi growls, huffing. You blinked. You felt as though this was for sure a dream. You pinched yourself but you weren’t waking up. You were really unsure what to say. You’d spent so much time despising Sanemi and now you weren’t sure how to feel about him at all. Everything made sense now. He was always around, you were always trying to help. You tried to make him laugh and talk when he didn’t. He was falling for you all this time and you had no idea. “Say something.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you said truthfully.

“Maybe you feel the same?” He asks and you shook your head.

“You never really talked to me. I barely know you.” You said practically and he looked away from you embarrassed. But you were attracted to him, you felt something when you kissed. That had to count for something. You swallowed dryly and set your stuff back down. You walked and set on the chair by his bed. You went through the motions, checking his vitals and temperature. It was quiet and awkward. When you were done Sanemi caught your wrist as you stood.

“Let me apologize.”

“Apologize?” You echoed.

“For how I treated you.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“Shut up.” You said and when his eyes widened in surprise you leaned forwards and pressed a kiss to his lips. The kiss lingered this time, something fluttered in your stomach when you felt his hand just barely under your jaw. When you pulled back he huffed, his breath tickling your cheek. “You better be very nice the next time you see me.” You whispered in the space between you.

[certainmaybe]

Somewhere in their heart Medic had always known that their generosity would one day bite them in the back. You could only let a certain amount of people sleep on your couch before your address became public knowledge. But Medic didn't have the power to bring down evil like the other heroes on their, all they could do was patch up cuts what the villains left behind. So they did. They helped every hurt soul they came across and hoped it would one day be enough.

And now they had Villain sitting on their couch, staring blankly into space.

Medic debated running. It didn't seem like Villain had noticed them yet. They could get away, call an actual hero to take care of this. But then again... Villain should have noticed them. If they hadn't, something was seriously wrong.

"Villain?" Medic spoke softly, ready to run and hide from Villains reaction, but nothing happened. They just sat there on the couch, slumped over. There was a faint scent of puke in the air.

Medic decided against calling Villains name again and instead started moving. They closed the door. They sat down their groceries softly. They made their way towards the slumped figure, noting every small abnormality.

They were slumped to one side, hand pressed against a spot at their ribs. Their other arm seemed strangely limp. One foot was held in a strange position, to avoid any weight being put on it. They were pale and dirty, with a bruise beginning to form around their neck. Pearls of sweat sat on their forehead. They were breathing swallow and slow.

"Villain?" This time the others gaze settled on Medic with a hint of recognition. Both of their pupils were blown wide.

"What are you doing here?" Villains voice was low and brittle.

"This is my living room." The flashlight was in Medics hand and shining into Villains eyes with out a conscious thought. They were running on years of training now.

"Yes. Right. I... wanted to tell you something."

"Maybe what happened to get you in this state?"

"No, no, that wasn't it. It was something important."

"Do you remember what it was?"

"No."

"Then maybe it can wait for later, can't it? Until you are patched up? How does that sound?"

"See, I told you so." Villains eyes had drifted again, and Medic felt earnestly afraid they would pass out.

"What did you tell me, Villain?" Medic debated giving Villain something against the drug they were obviously on, but while it disoriented and destabilized them it was most likely the only thing keeping them from passing out from pain, so maybe it was better that way. But how was Medic going to get them through resetting their shoulder? They didn't dare mix painkillers with what ever Villain was on.

"That you're the only good hero. The only one who actually cares about saving people."

"That's not true."

"Then why don't you call them? Tell them a dangerous Villain broke into your home?" For a moment Medic stopped, trying to think of a good answer.

"Let's just focus on getting you well again."

Part 2?

[yumeka-sxf]

A chronological analysis on Twilight and Yor - Part 20

*This is part of an ongoing post series. If you missed the Introduction/Part 1, click here*

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After Yor meets Yuri on the train, she's reminded of the fact that he's "all grown up" and doesn't need her to take care of him anymore.

As I described in Part 8, earning enough money to support Yuri was the main reason Yor became an assassin. Since she didn't have the luxury to pursue anything worthwhile for herself, taking care of and being useful to others became her main focus in life. But since Loid and Anya don't benefit from her assassin work, and now Yuri doesn't either, she begins wondering why she needs to continue doing it. This question is reinforced a few times later: first, when they're on the train and she realizes how much she enjoys being with Loid and Anya as a family, without having to worry about work. And again, during her initial meeting with Olka.

When Olka tells her that she wants to get away from the dangerous life of a gangster to a peaceful, quiet life, Yor takes a moment to reflect on those words, as they were the same thoughts she had on the train earlier – thoughts of what it would be like to live a normal life with your family without all the fears and dangers that come along with being involved in the underworld.

Olka asks Yor why she's so worried about her family discovering her identity since they're just a cover-up family, which leads to a softly emphasized scene of Yor with a noticeably sad expression, as she reluctantly admits that, yes, they are a family just for show.

We know from previous episodes, like the cooking lesson and post-Fiona date, that Yor has since realized that being in the Forger family makes her happy, despite the fact that they're a "fake" family. However, she doesn't know if Loid and Anya feel the same way, especially Loid. For all she knows, he's letting her live with him as his wife more as a favor to her, and because it's convenient for their front at Eden, and not because he personally finds happiness in the arrangement. While he did tell her during their previous date that he wants her to continue playing the role of Anya's mother and his wife, Yor doesn't know whether he feels the same happiness being together as a family like she does.

Yor becomes even more motivated to help Olka when the latter mentions that she's left so much of her old life behind her now.

Perhaps her eagerness to help Olka comes from her sad resignation to the fact that she herself can't attain the kind of life Olka is heading towards, so at the very least, she wants to make sure Olka can attain it.

Meanwhile, we see just how much Twilight's spy work has "traumatized" him, to the point of being on total high alert on the ship even though Sylvia specifically ordered him to relax. Not only was he immediately suspicious of the lottery for the cruise ticket, but even after he's on the ship, his ever-calculating mind can't help but imagine the worst scenarios. He begins looking out for any signs of terrorism and dubious behavior, much to Anya's dismay.

However, thanks to her coaxing, he catches himself and makes a conscious effort to turn off the "spy mode" in his brain (as much as he can anyway).

Later, we see Yor being nervous when having dinner with the executives, obviously not comfortable in such a formal situation and still afraid that she'll be spotted by Loid and Anya. However, when given a task she knows best – assassination work – we get to see a side of Yor that has yet to be fully highlighted in the series…a side that's serious and confident, without her usual doubts and hesitations.

Her social awkwardness and uncertainties disappear as she takes on a total "in-charge" demeanor when guiding Olka and company back to the room. But Olka has spent enough time with the underworld crowd to see that, while Yor is very good at her work, it doesn't suit the sweet, gentle person that she really is. Even before the real danger starts, Olka tells her that she doesn't seem like the underworld type, and even suggests that she spend time with her family when the ship stops at the resort. Olka must have sensed from Yor's hesitation and sad expression in their previous conversation that she truly cares about them.

It's unfortunate that Yor doesn't have a permanent confidant like Olka – someone who not only knows her true identity as an assassin, but also senses that she has real feelings for what should be a "fake" family…and is supportive of that in her own subtle way. Twilight has Franky, and Sylvia somewhat, as people who know him as both a spy and as a (fake) family man. But even though they're not openly supportive of the fact that he's catching feelings for his family, they're still people he can not only confide in without having to hide his true identity, but they care about Anya's well being too. Yor doesn't have anyone like that. While Shopkeeper and McMahon know her true identity, her relationship with them seems to be strictly business. So, as brief as her time with Olka is, it was good for Yor to finally converse with someone who understands her inner feelings that she herself is having trouble realizing.

While Anya and Twilight are having dinner later, Anya mentions that it's been a while since they've eaten dinner without Yor, to which Twilight comments that it does seem lonely without her. He could have replied with any number of less melancholic responses ("It does feel weird" or "She must be very busy" to name a few). So the fact that his first thought was how lonely it felt does seem to indicate a momentary lapse in his spy facade, to which Anya rightfully calls him out and he immediately tries to deny it (with a slight but telling blush).

When they visit the gift shop, we see that Twilight is still having trouble learning how to find enjoyment on the trip, despite the fact that Sylvia made it an official mission. It's tragic to think that even when given orders to have a relaxing family vacation, he simply can't turn off the suspicions and anxiety in his mind. But his anxiousness about people potentially eavesdropping on him soon changes to concern about Anya's mental health. Similar to when he took her to work and had her play in the sandbox, he completely misinterprets her actions as displays of emotional trauma.

I love the interpretation from @sunfoxfic about this side of Twilight's character, to quote:

"His trauma really grounds every action he takes - everything he does is to protect others from experiencing the same trauma. Loid is a highly pragmatic and sympathetic man, and in that way, he's unwaveringly kind to everyone but himself."

Just like the sandbox incident, the scene with Anya at the gift shop is a prime example of Twilight's empathetic side that he keeps hidden from everyone else. Only we as the audience know how much he agonizes about the well-being of those who may have experienced similar trauma as he did. Since Anya's reactions make no sense to him, he can't help but conclude that she has her own share of deep-rooted trauma as well. And, as I've reiterated many times before, rather than express anger or blame her for anything, he puts responsibility on himself to do a better job at trying to understand her. And all of this relates back to what he told Desmond during their first encounter…that he won't stop trying to understand others.

While Yor is keeping watch that night, she has plenty of time to reflect on what happened the day before. As she sits there for hours in silence, we see that her expression has taken on the "robotic" look she had at the very beginning of the series "pre-family," back when her assassination work was all she focused on in her life. This is probably the longest amount of time she's had to continually concentrate on work since meeting Loid and Anya, so it makes sense that her eyes would start to harden like that.

However, when she realizes that she never tried to contact them, her eyes immediately light up as she imagines a scenario where she meets up with them on the ship.

She then starts to wonder why she was hesitating so much when fighting Barnaby. She thinks it could be because she was afraid, not of death or pain, but the fact that if she had gotten seriously injured, she may have had to leave the Forger family. This makes her think back to when Olka asked her why she was so concerned about them since they're just a cover-up family. As I've previously mentioned, Yor has come to realize that being with Loid and Anya makes her happy, but she's also resigned herself to the fact that that happiness can be taken away from her at any minute. So far the biggest threat to her place in the Forgers has been Fiona, but she was able to remedy that by talking with Loid. But this time the threat comes from something where talking isn't an option: an important job from Garden. This is why she tells herself that she needs to keep her priorities straight – as far as she's concerned, her personal happiness is secondary compared to the importance of the job at hand. As she continues to think about the people whose happiness she strives for – Yuri, Loid, and Anya – the same thought she had upon meeting Yuri on the train comes back to her…if none of the people she loves benefit from her assassin work, then why does she need to keep it up?

Continue to Part 21 ->

<- Return to Part 19