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cattordi · 11 months ago

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a/n hi i have explanation as to why i was gone for so long please don’t sue me. i wrote this after watching saltburn and watching 2037633 felix edits. but i honestly forgot how to write so im getting back into it. don’t judge :P

summary it’s 2006 and you’re an american who recently decided to study overseas in england at oxford and there’s one person who just won’t leave you alone

pairings felix catton x american!reader

warnings smut, orgasm control, begging, foul language, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, slight choking, oral sex, not proofread, smoking cigarettes(not reader), unprotected sex, fluff, angst, name calling, daddy kink, praise, 18+ MINORS DNI

chips or crisps?

“can i just get a vodka martini?” you ask the bartender. he nods and quickly scurries off to make your drink.

england is not what you expect it to me. it’s nice. nicer than america in your opinion but the people were something.

one person you just couldn’t shake stood in all his glory across the pub. “he’s gorgeous right?” a redheaded girl says as she walks from his direction towards you.

“uh no not really” you lie. no one in their right mind could think that felix catton was unattractive. he’s 6’5, has a gorgeous smile, and a very very hot body. the only thing about him that bothered you was how he teased you. m

you didn’t know if it was because you liked him or what. “no one thinks felix is unattractive. felix doesn’t even think felix is unattractive.” the redhead continues saying.

“um do i know you?” you ask as the bartender slides your drink across the bar and you had him 4 pounds. “oou an american. i’m annabel” she says.

“hm.” you say and turn to look in felix’s direction again. hes now looking over at the bar where you and annabel are. first hes staring at annabel and then his eyes wander over to you; catching your gaze. you quickly look away not wanting to hold eye contact but for some reason your eyes wander right back to him.

he’s now smiling at you goofily because you got caught staring.

you roll your eyes and turn back facing the bar. annabel walks away after getting her drinks and now you’re officially by yourself again.

just the way you liked it.

you finish off your drink and quickly get a new one.

times passes and more people start filing into the pub; which calls for more drinks. “chips or crisps?” you hear next to you and you already know who it is.

“what do you want felix?” you groan and throw your head back.

the way your mouth is open and your neck is exposed makes felix feel a way inside. “is it chips or crisps?”

“felix i swear-“ you begin but he cuts you off. “you swear what love?” he begins and you finally look at him, “you’re you’re slap me? you’ve done that before.”

“what is your fascination with me?” you snap and he looks so amused.

“that,” he says a points at me, “what you just did is my fascination with you love.” furrowing your eyebrows he continues, “the way i get you all riled up without even touching you.” he says and his mouth is next to your ear at the point.

the smell of bourbon wraps around your head and into your nose. “you’re drunk.” you say and he chuckles.

“i’m not. lighten up y/n, you know i like teasing you.”

you can’t really tell if he’s lying so you just stop talking hoping he goes away after he gets his drinks.

newsflash: he doesn’t.

“y/n?” he says.

“what could you want now felix?”

“talk to me, love.”

“don’t call me that.. and no.”

“you just spoke to me.”

you don’t speak this time and he chuckles, “this little game we’re playing,” he begins and gestures between the two of you,” is lovely.” his accent warms you inside.

“i’m leaving.” you groan and push off your chair. you quickly gather your purse and coat before walking out; all while not even glancing at felix.

the cold england air hits you like a truck as you step outside. “it’s awfully cold.” felix says.

you jump at the unexpected sound of his voice. “felix what the hell are you doing?”

“don’t be foolish y/n. it’s 10 at night. i’m walking you back to your dorm.”

“i don’t need you to walk me back.” you say and he shrugs, “i didn’t ask you that did i?”

“whatever.” you begin walking and you can hear felix walking behind you.

after about 5 minutes of walking he finally speaks, “so y/n why don’t you like me?”

you ignore him but he won’t take that for an answer, “y/n answer the bloody question.”

you still don’t answer.

“for fucks sake,m y/n.” he says and he sounds upset. “whatever.” is all you hear before a hand wraps around your wrist pulling you between a small alley.

“felix let go.” you groan in annoyance that he won’t just leave you alone. but behind your little act, you want him to bother you; in more ways than others.

“stop acting like i don’t exist.” he begins as he gets close to your ear, “stop acting like i don’t have an effect on you.”

“you don’t.” you whisper and that pisses him off more.

“y/n,” he scoffs and you feel yourself beginning to get wet,”you act the way you do because you know, everything i do makes you feel good.”

if only he knew how true that statement was.

you shake your head, looking up at him. “listen, im not like every other girl who bows down to you. you can’t think i’m just gonna give out.”

“and why wouldn’t you love? i see the effect i have on you. i try to be so nice to you love.. and you push me away.” he begins as his hand slides into your mini skirt. “i bet you’re soaking for me.”

you refuse to make eye contact so you look down at his chest. “look at me love.” you shake your head now causing him to grab you by your jaw. “i said look at me.”

you whimper quietly at the feeling of his hand now touching the wet spot of your panties. felix’s eyes soften at your sound, “do i make you this wet love?”

after a few seconds, you finally give into all the feelings. so you nod your head but this doesn’t satisfy him, “words.”

“yes.”

“good girl. now,” he begins before pulling his hands out of your panties; causing you to whimper again at the lost of touch, “let’s go to my dorm. i’m not taking you in a bloody alley, darling.”

with that, he grabs your hand and begins walking quickly in the direction of the dorms. you can’t help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours.. and how long his legs are. one of his steps is 3 of yours.

after another 30 seconds of walking he stops. “you walk awfully slow love.”

“well sorry i’m not-“ you begin but yelp as your feet leave the ground and felix throws you over his shoulder. “felix put me down!” you groan.

“darling we are like 3 minutes away. just let me carry you.” he says and smacks your butt. the stinging feeling after keeps you quiet.

those three minutes pass so quickly you don’t even realize he’s walked the stair of his dorm and is now unlocking the door.

slowly, felix sets you down and points to the bed. “take your skirt off.”

you hum in response before pulling your skirt down. he’s watching you intently with his arms crossed. his button up shirt is unbuttoned halfway down; revealing his sculpted chest.

“now your,” he begins and points at your panties. as you slide them off the moon shines on your glistening folds and a low groan comes out of him.

as you discard of you panties, felix walks over and stands between your legs. “look at me.” you do as he says, “is this what you want?”

felix begins squatting down slowly. “do you want to be mine y/n?” he ask when he’s parellel with your pussy. his hot breath sends shivers up your spine. “hm y/n? answer me love.”

his hands wrap around your thighs. “yes felix.. that’s what i want.” you moan out as he begins kissing your inner thigh.

“well before we start.. call me daddy.” he lips your pussy in between words, “and you only cum when i say so. understood?”

you whimper lightly, “yes daddy.”

you’d never called a guy daddy before but it got you off more than you expected.

“well then,” with that felix’s mouth attacks your folds and clit causing your back to arch in pleasure.

your hands find his hair as he continues licking up and down your slit; ever so often he’ll hum and the feeling it gives almost pushes you over the edge.

“can i cum please daddy?” you ask and he hums something that sounds like a no. “please, please i want to cum.”

the begging and humming goes on for another minute or so until felix stops. “what happened?” you ask breathlessly.

“you tasted delicious darling, but i don’t want you to cum until i’m in you.”

he quickly pecks you on the lips before rolling you onto your stomach. you can’t see what he’s doing but his shadow cast on the wall as he stands.

you hear his belt being undone and soon his hand cupping your ass. “god, you’re perfect darling” he groans as his hand slides down; his accent is music to your ears.

“thank you..” you moan as he moves his dick between your wet folds. “thank you what?”

his hand wraps around your throat, “say it y/n.” the way your name rolls off his lips makes you feel so good. “thank you daddy.”

“good girl.” with that he slides in. you couldn’t see how big it was but you could definitely feel it. you moan in pleasurable pain as he stretches you.

doggystyle wasn’t always your first choice of positions because after a lot bit it was too much. every thrust would hit your cervix and begin hurting but with felix: it felt good.

“so- damned- tight.” he says and thrust harder in between words. you dig your face into the comforter moaning.

his hand snakes around your body to the front and begins rubbing your clit in small agonizingly pleasing circles. “felix-“

a sharp smack hits your ass, “that’s not my name y/n.”his hips continue to smack into you as he fucks you senselessly. “what’s my name?”

“fuck i need to cum.” you moan and he smacks your ass again, before grabbing you by the neck and pulling you up towards his chest continuing to fuck you. the new position caused him to hit your g spot in more ways than before. “what’s my name?” he ask through gritted teeth.

you’d never felt this kind of pleasure with anyone before. “can i please cum, daddy?”

“that’s what i like to hear.. but no.” his hand continues massage your swollen bud as he breathes heavily on your neck; fucking you maliciously. “god, do you feel god. all wet for me.. letting me fuck you to no avail like daddys slut.”

“please can i come daddy? please.. you feel so good.” you moan,

he pushes you back onto the bed, holding your by the neck; keeping you in place. “please daddy can i cum?” the feeling of release deepens so much and you can’t take it.

“i can’t take it.” you say through pleasured cries. the way he rubs your clit and hits your g spot repeatedly overstimulates you.

“yes you can and you will y/n.” he begins, “you’re mine now. all mine. no one could fuck you like i do. don’t you agree?”

you nod while whimpering out hushed “yes daddy”’s

“good. do you want to cum?”

“yes, yes please.”

“beg. and make sure it’s loud. i want everyone in this dorm to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

“please daddy. please can i come? i want to make you feel good.” you plead and you have to admit: you can be louder.

“that’s not loud enough darling.” he says and stops rubbing your clit. the lost of friction causes you to whimper. “louder.”

“please daddy. i need to come. please, i can’t take it anymore.” you grab the sheets of his bed and grip them tight as an anchor as he fucks you.

“louder y/n, you’re almost there.” he groans. you can tell he’s getting close as well. his grip on your hips has tightened and you can feel his shaft pulsing slightly against your walls.

his fingers touch your clit again and you moan loudly, “oh my gosh, can i please cum daddy? you feel so good in me. i want to cum all on your dick.”

this time you’re so loud he’s even threatened to cover your mouth. “cum love. milk my cock like i know you’ve wanted too since we met”

at the sound of his permission, you release your orgasm. white flashes take over your vision as you release what felix has took his time to build up.

he continues to fuck you through your orgasm causing more pleasure. moaning loudly, you arch your back towards him. “holy hell, you’re so tight around me.”

he groans and pushes your hips into the bed. his thrust begin to slow and become sputtered movements. “you were made for me y/n.. so perfect.” he groans as releases hot white spurts that coat your walls.

the way he talks to you turns you on even more as you come down from your high. he continues to fuck you slowly as his cum drips out of you and onto your clit.

“fuck y/n..” he moans softly as he pulls out slowly. you continue laying down trying to catch your breath as he stands.

you hear things being more behind you but you’re too weak to turn your head and look. after a few seconds, you feel felix straddling you. “roll over.”

you do as he says to reveal he’s holding a cloth. “open your legs for me..”

slowly, you open your legs to reveal your swollen sex. “you did so good love.”

felix squats lowly and begins wiping you up. “thank you.”

smiling at you he continues,”but you know.. you never answered my question.”

“hm?”

“chips or crisps?”

#felix catton #saltburn #felix catton smut #felix catton fic #jacob elordi x reader #felix catton saltburn #felix catton fluff #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #saltburn x reader

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sunrizef1 · 6 months ago

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Speechless

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Soulmate!Sargeant!Reader

Warnings: None, one curse word, not edited yay

Authors Note: Lmao the poll didn’t ask for this one but it was almost done so… here you go 😭

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Everyone’s born with a certain number of words. What happens when Charles runs out during a race and only his soulmate can get them back.

Everyone was born with a certain number of words. Usually, you got enough words to last you well into your adulthood, although the more talkative children ran out some time in high school. When you ran out of words, your voice completely disappeared, as well as your soulmates. You couldn’t say anything no matter how hard you tried. The only way to get your words back was to find your soulmate. When you do finally meet them, as soon as you touch, you both have an infinite amount of words.

The only problem with this system was the fact that there wasn’t some kind of constant counter in your vision that you could see at all times. No, instead, there was a small tattoo somewhere on your body that ticked down as you spoke. People often forgot to check and see how many words they have left, running out and taking both their own and their soulmates voices away. The wonderfully mean part about the tattoos, though, was that they moved into a perfectly visible spot when they ran out, moving to match where your soulmate had theirs.

Charles’ tattoo was behind his ear. He often got caught up and forgot to check, considering he had to have someone else help him see it. With the week he’d been having with Ferrari, he hadn’t even thought about it in days. At the start of the week, he would’ve sworn he had thousands of words left.

He really might’ve, but with the amount of meetings and interviews he’d suffered through in the lead up to Sunday, his words dwindled quickly.

Not that he knew, his hair was just long enough to cover the tattoo for anyone passing by and he was too busy to even consider it.

Charles was starting from pole. A miracle considering how shit the car had been performing. He slid the helmet on as he entered the car, effectively covering his tattoo.

He was then out on the track, lining up and slamming his foot down on the accelerator as the lights flicked green.

It was smooth enough for a while, though Max was on his tail from the very beginning, Charles having to ask for constant updates about the Red Bull.

“Ten laps left” his engineers voice crackles over the radio as Charles passes the starting line, his car roaring down the straight.

“Thank you,” Charles replies, glancing in his mirror to see Max about a second behind him still.

“How do the tires feel?” His engineer asks. Charles opens his mouth to reply but no words come out, “Charles?”

Charles try’s to speak again but all he gets is silence, his words dying in his throat. His engineer, though, assumes there’s issues with the radio, informing Fred Vassuer with a grave face.

Charles tries his best to continue the race without being able to speak. His engineer continues to talk to him, continuing to not get a response. Everytime his engineer asks him to reply, Charles gets more and more frustrated, the lack of communication pissing him off to no end.

Somewhere in the last few laps of the race, Max passes him, taking advantage of the frazzled Ferrari. Groans echo throughout the garage, the near perfect race now being ruined in the dying moments.

As Charles finishes his final lap, pulling his car into the second place spot, he can’t wipe the frown off his face. Even as he steps out of the car to the cheers of Ferrari fans above him, he practically throws the steering wheel down, knowing more than anyone that he should’ve won that race.

He slides his helmet off, wincing as Max pats him on the back. Charles sets the helmet down, not eager to talk to his disappointed team. He moves his sleeves up frantically, searching for the tattoo that would explain his lack of words. If it was still behind his ear, he’d know that his soulmate was the one to run out of words and he’d have a lot of choice words for them when he found them.

But lo and behold, the bright red zero sits on his wrist, practically mocking him. He’d used all his words and he hadn’t even thought to check before he started the race. He rolls his eyes, finally moving over to his team who all looked at him with questioning looks. He holds up his wrist, showing off the Ferrari red zero.

His team shares looks between them, groans ringing throughout the group. Charles nods, not looking forward to the next race that was only two weeks away.

You, on the other hand, were absolutely pissed. You had been in the middle of a presentation in front of your entire college class when your voice suddenly stopped short. Your word counter was on your wrist. It had always been perfectly visible and you had even been staring straight at it when it suddenly changed from 21,897 to an annoying little zero. You had rolled your eyes, quickly holding up your wrist toward your professor who beckoned you toward him. He grabbed ahold of your wrist, examining the tattoo for a few seconds. Luckily, this teacher liked you, quickly waving you off to go sit back down with a mutter of emailing you after class.

As you laid in bed later that night, fingers moving rapidly over your phone screen as you FaceTimed your brother, you were still fuming. He had FaceTimed you after you’d informed him of your dilemma, his smug face trying his hardest not to laugh. Everytime he spoke, you’d text back quickly as a response.

They took away my captaincy you sent him, watching as his eyebrows furrow. He’d known how hard you’d worked to get a spot on the University’s soccer team, even becoming a captain as a junior.

“What, why?” Your brother replies. In another world, he was attending the school right along with you, attending parties and being the Florida frat boy you’d assume he was when you looked at him.

I can’t talk to anyone, can’t do my job you reply, nails tapping loudly against the screen, they said it was “temporary” 🙄

You watch as Logan reads the texts, eyes squinting slightly. You weren’t entirely sure where he was. Although, from the looks of it, you assumed he was in the paddock somewhere, considering the fireproofs hugging his skin.

“Why were you in class on a Sunday?” Logan asks suddenly and you roll your eyes at that being the only question he had.

I’m not usually

We came in today to do presentations

Logan hums, having no idea if that was common or not, as he’d never even been close to going to college. He’d been to your campus a few times whenever he was back in Florida but that was usually to go to your games or a frat party.

“You know what would make you feel better?” Logan asks, noticing the frown on your face. You glance up toward his grinning face to see what he had to say, “You know we’re in Miami the weekend after next, right? You should come.”

You immediately start to type into your phone but Logan speaks up instead, “If I never check my texts you never said no.”

You roll your eyes, texting more aggressively. Logan laughs at the sound but is quick to rebuke the claims you’re no doubt sending into his messages, “It’s not that far of a drive, come on! You’ll have fun and I’ll get to see you again, it’s been a while. I miss you.”

You pause at his last point, erasing the refusal you’d been typing. You take a second before sending a short message. He was right though, it had been a while. Your family lived in Fort Lauderdale and it was a pretty long drive to the University of Florida.

The drives five hours

“Oh shit, is it?” He asks, eyes wide. You can see the disappointment on his face, sensing your incoming refusal, “I didn’t know it was that far. You don’t have to-”

You’re picking me up

Logan cheers as he reads your final message and you roll your eyes, not fighting the grin that makes its way onto your face. It’d be nice to see your brother again. With the relinquishing as your duties as captain, you’d have a lot more free time on the weekends. You were also pretty sure you’d be asked to sit out of a couple games due to your inability to speak so you really had all the time in the world. Why not spend it with your older brother.

You bask in your brothers glee, noticing the happiness emanating from him as he animatedly plans your Miami Grand Prix weekend.

Ferrari, on the other hand, was having a terrible time.

They had been searching overtime for a solution to their “Charles can’t speak” problem. For the time being, they had Ollie stepping in for the upcoming Miami Grand Prix, as Charles couldn’t continue to race in his… “condition”.

Ollie had raced the entirety of the previous weekend and Charles wasn’t sure how much more he could take of being on the sidelines before he just fucked back off to Monaco.

The team wasn’t entirely sure how to find someone’s soulmate but they sure were trying. Charles had already been introduced to at least 100 different women since his words had disappeared. He was getting more and more annoyed by the day.

The worst part was that he wasn’t sure he’d ever find his soulmate. There was always the possibility that he’d never get to meet her and never get his words back. His stomach turned at the thought, knowing that he’d never get to race again if that happened. Everything he’d worked for and spent his life dreaming about would be stripped away because of a girl he didn’t know.

He knew it wasn’t her fault, wherever she was. He should’ve been paying more attention to his number as it ticked closer and closer to zero. The tattoo had moved, he knew he was the one to run out. What he hadn’t even considered was that he’d taken some poor girls voice away. He’d been so wrapped up in his own job that he hadn’t thought about the fact that some random girl just couldn’t speak anymore and it wasn’t even because of something she did.

Despite his inability to speak, he was still expected to be in the paddock, as he was basically the face of the team. So there he was, sitting grumpily in his chair with his sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. Media day had been hell. He’d still gotten interviewed, his sign language coming off a bit angrier than usual.

Due to how many people never meet their soulmates before they run out of words, sign language was taught in most schools. You’d think it’d be harder to tell someone was angry through sign language but Charles was managing to convey that just fine.

After two weeks of not speaking, Charles’ attitude was at an all-time low. The bright red zero sat on his wrist, practically mocking him. The sprint race had just ended, Ollie managing p7. Charles was, of course, proud of him but he was also filled with jealousy that Ollie got to be the one in his seat when it was all he wanted to do.

Ollie, as well, was starting to reach the end of the rope, not having expected to be cast into a full-time seat so suddenly.

As Ollie pulled back into the garage, Charles darted from his seat, not able to watch the pure elation on the younger man’s face. His feet carried him through to the paddock, workers from different teams mingling and discussing the race.

Charles wandered aimlessly, everywhere he looked a reminder of the life he might be losing.

Logan had finished p6 and you were thrilled. Not a much better way to start a home race (at least for a Williams). You found yourself trying to cheer, although no sound came out.

Lily had gone off to congratulate Alex, who’d finished just one place above Logan in fifth. When Logan had introduced you to Lily, you’d quickly noticed the green infinity sign on her hand, signaling that she’d met her soulmate. You couldn’t help the jealousy that spread through you as you watch her hug Alex.

After Lilys departure, you were left alone to wait for Logan to come back into the garage. You’d seen several celebrities mingling around the paddock, averting your eyes whenever anyone looked in your direction.

You’d usually be all up for meeting people, especially someone you looked up to but with your lack of words, meeting anyone would probably be a disaster and you don’t think you’d ever get over it if you embarrassed yourself in front of any of these people.

You don’t have to wait long as Logan comes back into the garage pretty quickly. He’s quick to exit his car, cheering and celebrating with his team. A small smile breaks onto your face as you watch him, happy to see him happier than he’d ever been with the team before.

He’s zipping down his race suit as he walks over to meet you, hair messy as he pulls his helmet off as well.

You mouth a quick “good job” to him and he wraps his arms around you, infecting you with his gross sweat.

You try to lean back but he hugs you tighter, swaying slightly with a laugh. When he does eventually pull away, you make a face at him, attempting to wipe his sweat off your arms. He laughs, ruffling your hair and walking toward the exit.

“Come on, im gonna go shower before quali later and we can go get lunch,” he says, nodding toward the paddock behind him. You nod, moving closer to follow him out.

As you and Logan walk along, he points out the different hospitalities and employees, identifying everyone he knew. At one point, Lewis Hamilton sprints past, a dog hot on his heels.

“Roscoe,” Logan says, eyes still locked on Lewis’ retreating figure.

You quirk your head with a questioning look. Logan’s quick to clarify, “The dog. His names Roscoe.”

At that, you smile, glancing over your shoulder at the dog again. You look back as Logan starts to explain something in front of you again, hand moving out to point at the Aston Martin hospitality.

As you both start to get close to Williams, Logan’s eyes lock on someone a bit away. He lights up, smirking as he turns to you, “That’s Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver. He can’t speak either, you know?”

You nod blankly, having no idea what Logan was yapping about. Logan looks back to Charles with a grin, “Maybe I should introduce you two, you’d already have something in common.”

You’re shaking your head, not wanting to experience the awkward situation of not being able to talk to someone who can’t talk either, your idiot brother having to be the bridge between you two. It didn’t help that Charles was incredibly attractive. But Logan doesn’t listen to your protests, grabbing your arm to drag you toward the driver, his hand already moving to cup his mouth as he shouts, “Charles!”

Charles had managed to wander all the way over to the Williams hospitality, his thoughts elsewhere as he dragged his feet over the pavement. He was just considering leaving the paddock when he hears someone shouting his name, causing him to look their way.

He’s met with Logan, still in his race suit, dragging a girl behind him. Charles recognized you as Logan’s sister, he’d seen you around the paddock a few times but he’d never actually met you, not often being involved with anything Williams related.

Logan stops short in front of Charles, pulling you to his side. Charles has to stop himself from wincing at the pure joy on the American man’s face, aware that he’d just gotten points in the sprint. Charles bitterly thinks he’d wished it’d been him instead.

“Charles! This is my sister, y/n,” Logan explains, glee practically melting off of him, “She’s visiting from college for the weekend and I’m dragging her along to meet people.”

Charles nods, trying to force a smile onto his face. He briefly wonders if Logan knew he had no words and decided to introduce them anyway.

But when you don’t speak either, Charles glances down at your wrist, spotting the zero on it. He grimaces, knowing that not much could come from this interaction if neither of you could speak.

He nods respectfully in your direction, being met with a soft smile in response. If it had been any other weekend, Charles would’ve been able to appreciate how pretty you looked but he was instead plagued with thoughts about his soulmate instead.

Charles signals to Logan that he was going to go back to Ferrari and Logan nods, turning to step away as someone shouts his name. Charles steps forward to get past you just as you turn to see who was yelling for your brother, causing you to collide with Charles, his phone falling out of his hand.

You swing back around at the noise, leaning down to collect Charles’ phone for him. You’re quick to hand his phone back to him, his hand brushing yours as you pass it off. In your flustered state you don’t even think as you mumble a rushed apology to him.

“Sorry!”

“Thanks.”

You both pause, eyes locked onto each others for a second. You glance down at your wrist, catching the green infinity sign sat on your wrist. Charles looks down as well, his other hand reaching to wipe gently at the skin, as if the symbol would wash away and reveal it was a trick.

You’re the first to open your mouth again, tentative speech pouring out of your mouth, “Hi?”

You seem almost relieved to hear the word, taking a sharp breath as you hear it. Charles has to withhold the grin on his face as he speaks as well.

“Hi.”

When you hear him speak, you grin widely, laughing loudly out of pure joy. Charles laughs as well, the realization that he’d just met his soulmate crashing through him.

“I think I’m your soulmate,” you manage through your laugh, smiling warmly at the Ferrari driver, a light blush on your cheeks.

“I think you are,” Charles replies, eyes softening as he looks at you. You stand in front of him for a few moments, seeming to be debating something in your head. He’s about to ask you about it when you step forward, arms wrapping around his neck to bring him into a hug. Charles pauses before he melts into the hug, never-felt-before joy pulsing through him.

You pull away, still smiling as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open your contacts, opening a new one and titling it “Charles ❤️” before you turn your phone to him.

He takes it gently, typing in his number and sending himself a text before he hands the phone back to you. You stand and smile at each other for a few moments before Charles opens his mouth to speak.

“Do you wanna get dinner?” he asks, a hand coming up to scratch nervously at the back of his neck, “After qualifying?”

You light up, excitement filling your face, “I’d love to, Charles.”

That’s when Logan decides to come back, unceremoniously swinging an arm over your shoulder, “I’m back! You ready to go? I’m starving.”

Logan’s already turned you around by the time he finished his sentence, steering you both toward his room. You glance over your shoulder to smile at Charles, waving goodbye slightly. Charles grins back, nodding in response.

“Where do you wanna go for lunch?” Logan continues to speak loudly, his voice echoing as you walk away.

Charles watches as you shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know.”

Logan’s head snaps toward you, eyebrows furrowed, “You’re speaking!”

You smirk, nodding your head at your brother.

Logan ponders this for a second with a smile before something comes to his head and his grin drops, “Wait you met your soulmate?! Who did you meet in that minute I was gone?! Y/N?”

You shake your head, crossing your arms as you walk away, Logan still frozen to his spot, “Y/N?! Wait!”

You stop in order for him to catch up, punching his shoulder lightly as he walks up, “You’re such an idiot.”

Logan gasps dramatically at your words, finally walking out of Charles’ earshot. Charles gazes after you as you walk away, a warm smile gracing his features. He pulls open his phone to see the text he sent from yours, quickly tapping to save your contact.

“Y/N ❤️”

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@casperlikej @evie-119

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 smau #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #sargeant!reader

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greetings-inferiors · 1 year ago

Note

Yes, hi, what's happening to reddit? I usually check some fandom news there but everything is private/blocked now? I have an account and not even that allows me to enter?

Reddit is changing their policy so they every thousand api requests they charge money. This means that third party apps, moderation tools, and other various things just won’t work anymore, since these things rack up thousands of requests very quickly, they’d just be unsustainable to run.

This cost would be average out to a dollar per month per person using third party applications, like an alternative app, text to speech, moderation tools, etc. Reddit has millions and million of users, most of which would be affected.

For example, Apollo for Reddit, a popular third party alternative to the Reddit app (which I used myself, seriously the Reddit app is abysmal) would cost $20MILLION DOLLARS A YEAR TO RUN. Given the app is developed by one guy, that legitimately puts him out of business.

Moderation would get even worse than it already is, as moderation tools use the api to effectively moderate, but now it’s at a cost.

The reason why this change is happening, is because the API can be used to collect data for AI, and, to quote the CEO, “the Reddit corpus of data is really valuable” and he doesn't want to “need to give all of that value to some of the largest companies in the world for free.”

So, once again, AI and capitalism is ruining things for everyone else.

This is a change that is created solely to make money without thinking for a second about the millions of people it would effect. This lead to 7000 of the most popular subreddits blacking out for 48 hours in protest, and I’m pretty sure it crashed the whole site. The voice of the people has definitely been heard, now it’s just time to see if it’s done anything.

Edit: I got something wrong! Thanks to all who corrected me! No thanks to the anon who was an asshole about it lmao

It’s not that Reddit is charging that’s the problem, it’s that it’s charging way too much, is way too short of a deadline to change it, and spez is just an asshole lying about the Apollo dev. Still a shit situation! Just not exactly for the reasons I said. Look into the reblogs for people who know more!!

#it’s a really shit situation and I feel bad for the redditors #ask #ask answered #text post #Reddit #Reddit blackout #tumblr #hellsite #not this hellsite for once #Reddit refugee #long post #AI #capitalism #grrrr #196

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urfavlarry · 6 months ago

Note

hii! i love your writing so much! So can i request Joost x fellow artist!reader with one bed trope? Something like - Joost and reader have tour together, but hotel staff messes up their reservation and instead of two different rooms they get one and maybe reader is all shy with the whole situation bc she has feelings for him idunno 😭🙏

Awkward Situations

Joost Klein x artist!reader

summarry: ..one bed in the hotel room, how does that go when both of you just want to go to sleep after a tiring day from touring

genre: fluff!

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“I’m very sorry, but all rooms are booked for the night so there is nothing I can do for you other then give you the card to the room we booked for you.” The receptionist says to you, looking at you with a sympathetic look. You’ve been trying to bargain with her for the past 15 minutes, telling her you booked a totally different room but the hotel was full since it was summer and most people are on holiday at this time. You sigh, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and take the key card, thanking her quietly before grabbing your suitcase and leaving. Joost trailed quietly behind you, letting you cool down since you were a bit upset from the situation. Anyone would be since you were tired from performing all day and couldn’t wait to have some tine for yourself but the hotel just had to mess something up. You didn’t try and cause a scene, it was mostly just going back and forth trying to find a solution but without success.

You walked down the hall, dragging your luggage with you and open the door, setting your stuff down and grabbing important stuff before running off to the bathroom. Meanwhile Joost looked around the room. It had a lot of space, the balcony giving you a great view of Frankfurt, the place you performed tonight. He lit a cigarette and snapped a quick photo before putting his phone away and admiring the view. He watched the cars pass by, music softly playing somewhere across the street and laughing could be heard just a few streets away. He threw the cigarette away, walking back into the warm atmosphere of the hotel. You were already done with getting yourself ready for the bed, laying down on your stomach and watching something on your laptop. You edited some footage your crew took from the concert and tried to get as much done as possible before deciding to watch a movie. You put on a random shitty comedy movie, getting comfortable under the covers. You were on the side of the bed where the nightstand was, leaving Joost to sleep on the side near the wall. You heard him get out the bathroom and feel the bed sink, a strong smell of some random shampoo hitting you like a truck. You got some butterflies in your stomach, trying to focus on the movie.

You were half asleep at around 2:29 AM, yawning and putting on a different movie. You closed your eyes, Joost already asleep and snoring softly. He was the type to always toss and turn in his sleep, but tonight he was suspiciously still. You were falling in and out of consciousness, seconds feeling like hours when you suddenly feel him moving around. He put a hand on your waist, a quiet yelp escaping your mouth. He pulled you a bit closer, his back only a few inched away from you. Sighing, you accept your fate and try to fall asleep, succeeding just after a few seconds.

In the morning, you felt trapped. You couldn’t move, eyes shooting open. You were faced with someone’s chest.. Joosts chest. Your face felt hot but you chose to ignore it, admiring his morning features. You didn’t dare move, knowing Joost wasn’t really the biggest fan of mornings, practically having to drag him out of bed every time you were on tour. He started shifting, his eyes slowly opening so you quickly close yours, trying to act like you’re asleep. He loosened his grip on you, you could feel his intense gaze on you before feeling lips on your forehead. “Morning..” He says in his groggy, morning voice before getting up, probably to shower or change. After what felt like hours, you open your eyes, grabbing your phone and checking the plans you had for today. The next concert was next week in Switzerland, then two days after that concert you were going to Italy. You were excited, always having the dream to travel the world someday which was finally becoming a reality. You shiver slightly, standing up to grab a hoodie from your suitcase and skin care, sitting down and grab a small mirror you brought so you could get ready. After finishing, you put your hair in a hairstyle you thought would fit your outfit for the day. Standing up you go on the balcony, getting some fresh air. You let your mind wander, thinking about all kinds of things before feeling a pressence beside you. Of course it was Joost, who else would it be? He stood there besidde you quietly, coffee in hand and handing you your usual. You thank him quietly, letting the warm drink heat your hands up.

It was a comfortable silence, something you usually had on mornings like these before Joost spoke up. “Slept well?” You look in his direction and nod, siping on your drink.He also nodded, the soft and comfortable atmosphere turning tense. He cleared his throat, trying his best to come up with a topic which wasn’t usually this hard for him, so why was it now? “Are you.. okay? Were you uncomfortable?” He asks, his tone being more worried then anything.

You shook your head, finally sparing him a glance. “It felt nice.” You say, awkwardly and he just nods, letting the silence engulf you once more. You went inside, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward around your best friend. You get changed and decide to go look around Frankfurt. You and Joost talked like nothing ever happened, leaving the morning incident behind. You went inside a museum you found interesting, paying for everything and going inside to explore. It was nice, a lot of things took your interest but Joost seemed like he was in his own world, just walking around and looking dazed. Once you decided it was time to head back, you made your way to the hotel once more. You met a few fans, most of them being thirsty for Joost anyway but finally you got to your destination. Joost looked pretty annoyed about something, sparing you a few glances and pouts. You sat down next to him on the bed, deciding to get the information out of him. “What’s wrong?” You ask, making him chuckle. “Being blunt, are we?” You shrug and raise a brow, your leg bouncing impatiently. “Joost, what’s bothering you hm? You haven’t started a random topic for 15 minutes. Which is very unlike you might I add.” He stares at you dumbfounded but shakes his head. He shrugs and looks like he is trying to find the right words to explain his sour mood. “Well, last night..” He starts and you mentally curse. You really were hoping this wasn’t mentioned but it had to be at some point.

“I liked.. what happened and I’m pretty sure you did too because you would’ve spoken up about it, I know you enough to know you speak up about things when you’re uncomfortable with something.” He starts and you try your best to not break eye contact with him, letting him speak his mind. “I didn’t only like that, I like you and have for almost a year and I thought we could.. try?” You smirk, deciding to tease him; “Try..?” You smile and he looks at you with a ‘really?’ face. “You want me to spell it out for you? I want us, to be together, at least try. We can work something out I know we can.” He says and you nod, inching closer to him. “I’d love to Joost.” You say and he stands up spinning you around making you giggle like a child. The rest of the night was just you two making fun of the situation and what convinced Joost to confess. It really was funny that one bed made you get together with the most amazing person on earth.

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#joost klein requests #joost klein x y/n #joost klein x you #joost klein x reader #joost klein #joostice for joost #joost x reader #justice for joost #joostice #free joost #stand with joost #joost klein fanfiction #eurovision requests #eurovision x reader #eurovision fanfiction

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mothwingwritings · 7 months ago

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Boyfriend To Death/The Price Of Flesh Sleeping Headcanons 🌙💤🛌

Hello everyone! In between fics I have been working on some headcanons, like this one, for your reading pleasure. :) It's some bedtime/sleeping arrangement scenarios feat. you and our favorite murderous companions. <3 It’s dedicated to all the sleepy individuals out there that just want to hit the hay and snooze the day away-I feel you and you are valid. Also there is a bonus plushie headcanon for each character because why not! If you don’t have at least stuffed creature on your bed, this is your sign to love yourself. Go acquire a friend and snuggle up with him, I demand it. ༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

DUE TO THE NATURE OF THESE HEADCANONS AND THE SOURCE MATERIAL, 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Warnings: abuse/abusive relationships, noncon/dubcon, forced cuddling, forced interaction, forced relationships, implied kidnapping, being held against your will, reader is threatened and hurt, mentions of/implied sex, very lightly edited.

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Ren/Fox🦊

· Exceptionally clingy when he sleeps. Honestly like a suction cup. Regardless of if he’s the little or big spoon, he’ll be latched to you the whole night. Wiggle and complain as much as you like, he’s not relinquishing his hold.

· Even if you two are just taking a little nap together, he always has to have some kind of skin contact with you. Holding hands, cuddling, a limb draped over you, something. He needs the reminder that you are there and that you aren’t going anywhere, he can’t sleep peacefully without it.

· He’s warm. Too warm, really. Uncomfortably warm. In winter this poses no problem, but during the summer it’s nearly unbearable. You need to crank the AC to keep yourself from melting into a puddle of sweat, but the added cold only makes him cling to you tighter, increasing the heat. He doesn’t seem to mind the warmth at all and takes offense if you try and voice your irritation, giving you an earful (if not worse) over how you need to be more grateful for the affection he douses you with, warning that if you don’t watch yourself, next time it snows you’ll be camping outside with nothing but the clothes on your back. We’ll see how much you miss his warmth then.

· He’s a night owl, but he also somehow always wakes up before you do. It’s not uncommon for you to be awoken by an eager beastkin shoving a homemade breakfast in your face, excited to start his day with his love by sharing breakfast in bed with you and watching anime. <3

· Though sometimes he gets a little too excited in the morning, and if that’s the case you’ll be waking up to a very handsy man pawing at you, kissing any and every place his lips can reach, pressing himself against you so you can feel just how excited he is. It’s a good thing you are in bed because by the time he’s done you’ll be so worn out you’ll need some more rest. ^^;

· Also, he is an avid fan of plushies. If you also collect them your bed is going to be 90% plushies and he is 100% going to use that as an excuse to be squeezed on the bed with you as close as physically possible so as you all can have room. None of them are allowed on the floor, no man is left behind, and he’ll make sure you all fit whether it is comfortable or not.

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Lawrence🌿

· Lawrence is the exact opposite of Ren when it comes to contact. Though he may fall asleep with you in his arms (or vice versa), he very quickly grows uncomfortable with the prolonged contact, his body used to being the sole person in his bed. Very shortly after he falls asleep, he will unconsciously push you away to try and create distance. No matter how much he may yearn for your contact in his waking hours, he has no control over his subconscious actions. Often times the shoving is much rougher than it needs to be, abruptly (and painfully) waking you up in the process.

· However, this does not deter him from making you sleep with him. Even if he ends up damn near shoving you off the bed, he wants you to be close to him for as long as and as much as possible.

· Lawrence is basically nocturnal, and even if you are also a night owl there are bound to be some times when your sleep schedules don’t fall in line with each other. He gets a little excited when you fall asleep when he is awake, taking pleasure in watching you as you slumber. The way you lay near him, completely unguarded and quiet, only the slow rise and fall of your chest denoting that you are alive at all… It does something for him. More than once you’ve woken up to him standing over you, face flushed and tears in his eyes as he’s pumping his dick to the sight of your passed out form. If you wake before he can finish himself, he’s gonna use you to complete the job.

· In fact, he just likes to stare at you while you sleep in general. He doesn’t have to feel anxious or worried of how you may perceive his gawking if you aren’t aware it’s happening to begin with. It’s a nice chance to really take in and appreciate your beauty without facing any backlash, and it comforts him to know you trust him enough to fall that deeply into slumber in his presence.

· Doesn’t really get the point of plushies and never really had a strong attachment to stuffed animals as a child, so he doesn’t have any of his own and has no desire to own any. He thinks it’s cute that you like them though, and won’t deny you if you want to take one or two to bed with you. If you gift him one, he’ll be flustered but thankful, hugging it when he is unable to hug you. The little friend is a perfect cuddle buddy for when your sleep schedules don’t align and he doesn’t want to disturb you once you have fallen asleep.

· Just be mindful that if he gets agitated or you piss him off, he’ll definitely destroy your beloved stuffies, tearing them to shreds with either his bare hands or any of the gardening tools he has lying around. He’ll instantly feel bad if you begin to cry over it, but at that point it’s too late. It’s best to stop the tears before he turns the assault towards you.

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Strade🔪

· Strade is all over the place when he sleeps. It doesn’t matter how big the bed is or how little space you take up in it, his presence is unavoidable. You can try and create as much distance as physically possible, scrunching yourself up in a corner in hopes that he doesn’t come in contact with you, and you’ll still end up with him sprawled all over you come morning.

· He’s also loud. Snoring, grunting, talking in his sleep, he’s so noisy it’s a wonder you can get any sleep at all. You get used to it after a while (you don’t have a choice), but each time he nudges you in his sleep or wakes you up with a particularly loud snore, it’s all just another unpleasant reminder you are stuck with him, unable to find tranquility even in your dreams.

· He has a tendency to latch on to and keep a close hold of whatever is closest to him while he sleeps. The moment he looks even slightly drowsy you try and stay away from him, not thrilled with the prospect of being smashed up against him for hours on end while he’s pleasantly off in dreamland. Were it anyone else or any other situation, you may find the clinginess endearing, but with Strade it’s just extremely uncomfortable and confusing. You spend the whole time unsure if you want him to wake up and let you go (and thus have to deal with an alert and active monster) or if you want to remain silent and just put up with it, thankful for the rare moment of peace.

· He sleeps the best after successfully finding and securing a new victim, the gusto and energy that he puts towards spending time with his new ‘friend’ leaves him completely spent by the end of the day. A tired Strade is usually a good thing for you-if he’s worn out, he’s less likely to bother or hurt you. However the opposite is also true, if he hasn’t been able to blow off steam in a while he’ll grow antsy and restless, and he’s bound to make his lack of sleep and overall disgruntlement your problem. Regardless, you won’t get much sleep either way, as you find no contentment in either situation.

· Though they aren’t really his thing, he is amused by your plushies. While he can see the appeal of them, the only real interest he takes in them is how you react to them. Which ones are your favorite, do you favor one character or animal over another, do you prefer the big and fluffy or small and squishy? Most importantly though, he wants to know how deeply your fondness for them extends and how/if he can use that as a persuasive tool against you in the future. Should they prove to be a promising means of coercion, prepare for quite a few new plush friends to keep you company in the future. :)

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Celia👩‍💼

· She’s an early riser. Not necessarily because she wants to so much as it’s engrained in her from years of putting in overtime at her corporate job. If you try and pull her back into bed she’ll gripe at you, but is secretly happy that you are willingly making yourself a scapegoat for her laziness. Though on days she absolutely has to get up early, you best be getting up right alongside her to help her get ready for the day or you will be deeply regretting it. She always takes precedence, you can sleep more when she leaves.

· She’s on edge most of the time and is overall a very light sleeper. If you snore or toss and turn too much, she’ll get pissed off and roughly shove you awake, grumbling obscenities while complaining about how annoying you are being. If she can’t sleep, she certainly isn’t going to let you sleep either.

· Even if you aren’t a noisy or restless sleeper, she’ll still find constant things to gripe about regarding your sleeping arrangement. Either you take up too much room, or you are encroaching on her personal space, or you have some other sleeping habit she finds grating that you have no control over because you are unconscious when you do it. She doesn’t ever seem overly pleased to share sleeping space with you, and you often wonder why she doesn’t just banish you to the couch or some other place to get your rest.

· And yet, she never does make you sleep elsewhere. In fact, it only makes her MORE pissed off if you suggest it, taking it as a personal offense that you don’t want to spend time with her. She won’t admit it to you, but the act of sleeping near someone she doesn’t positively loathe or who isn’t trying to use her in some way is one of the few things that really brings her peace. Even if it’s against your will, having you in bed with her soothes her. It’s honestly the best sleep she has had in ages.

· She’s not a huge cuddler, but she does like physical confirmation that you are near. Often times she’ll reach out in the night to grab your hand or drape her arm across your body, never smothering, but just enough contact to assure that you are still by her side.

· She staunchly refuses to have any stuffed animals in her bed, telling you she finds them childish and stupid (whether she actually feels this way or is just pissed you are trying to bring things into her bed that take up even more space is debatable). If she finds any plushies you are hiding she will most likely throw them away on sight. You may be able to get away with a little one, but that’s only if she doesn’t find it or is feeling extremely benevolent.

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Derek🦂

�� The only time Derek shows any kind of ‘affection’ is when he sleeps. Like Strade, he likes to secure himself to things while he slumbers, and if he doesn’t fall asleep with an item (you) already in his arms at some point in the night, he will subconsciously grab onto something (also you) and not relent until he wakes the next morning.

· The way he clings to you can almost be considered sweet. Wrapping his arms around you securely, burying his face into your chest or the crux of your neck as he snuggles up against you as close as physically possible, it makes you momentarily forget what a monster the man beside you actually is. It’s almost as if he’s a child huddled up close to a parent, seeking comfort from the things that go bump in the night. The spell is broken if he happens to be awoken during one of these cuddle sessions, and he’ll take out his embarrassment over the situation by treating you even crueler than he typically does.

· One of the few niceties he allows you is sleeping in his bed as opposed to the floor-but it comes at a price. It’s an honor to be able to sleep next to him nightly in his huge, plush, expensive bed, an honor far too good for the likes of you. He expects to be compensated for his generosity, so you’d best be ready to do any and everything he asks or desires at the drop of a hat, no matter how degrading or agonizing it may be. If you want to keep this privilege while preventing as much suffering as possible, you’ll do as he says. (Then again, it’s not like he really needs your active participation to force what he wants out of you, but he does like when you obey him ‘willingly’ and has a tendency to be a smidge less cruel when you follow his instruction).

· He usually forces you to either sleep nude or in some very compromising/uncomfortable/embarrassing negligee that covers so little you mine as well BE naked. He’s a blanket hog too, and has a penchant for cranking up the AC at night, leaving your only source of warmth to be curling up beside him. You try and fight it at first, but you inevitably give in when the chill gets to be too much (also you aren’t too keen on getting ill in his presence, swallowing your pride is worth it if you can avoid more suffering).

· He will mercilessly make fun of and belittle you for any stuffed animals you may have or try to sleep with. He’ll infantilize you, asking if you need a binky to go with your stuffy, or tease that he’ll need to put you in diapers so you don’t accidentally shit the bed. However, even with all the constant mocking, he does find it kinda hot when you try and use the plushies as a shield, doing your best to conceal your sniveling face and exposed body behind the fluffy creature as he plows into you ruthlessly. The toy does a shit job shielding you, but it is hilarious to watch you try and hide yourself behind them.

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Mason🐻

· Despite everything, he’s actually probably the nicest of the lot to sleep with. He’s warm and soft, and when he holds you it’s comforting and shockingly soothing. It’s disconcerting how easily you melt into the same person that caused you so much trauma and torment, haunted by the fact that the arms that now wrap snuggly around you were not so long ago the greatest threat to your life. You don’t know whether you should be more disgusted with him for holding you with such familiarity or yourself for enjoying it as much as you do.

· The man can sleep almost anywhere. After years of surviving out in the wilderness he has honed his body to handle tough climates and all manner of conditions, granting him the ability to thrive in less than favorable environments. The man could probably fall asleep in the middle of a torrential downpour with nothing but a rock bed beneath him and come out of it completely rested.

· You aren’t expected to immediately be able to rough it. He realizes this way of life is all fairly new to you and that getting used to nights out in the wilderness has its own learning curve. Because of this, he’s actually surprisingly accommodating about the whole thing. When you camp, he makes sure to bring his best tent and sleeping bag for you to use, even though it’s a hassle to drag around and he himself has long since forgone the need for it. Though it’s nearly impossible to find comfort enough to sleep while stranded deep out in an unfamiliar forest, surrounded by nothing but the pitch black of night, all manner of voracious wild animals, and a serial killer, he does his best to make sure you are adequately cared for and as content as you can possibly be.

· However you best not slack with your survival instincts, this coddling is only a limited time deal. You proved yourself to him once by pulling through his trial, but that doesn’t mean you have a free ride forever. He’ll pamper you a bit in the ‘honeymoon’ phase, but if you grow complacent and begin to let him down… It isn’t going to be a smooth or happy time for either of you. Its best not to betray his expectations, if you do something overly stupid or otherwise show your survival was just a fluke… your sleeping arrangement is going to be the least of your concern.

· He finds your affinity for stuffed animals a bit juvenile, but also slightly endearing. He can’t deny how cute you look when you are curled up in his bed, nestled amongst various furs and blankets, clutching tight to your favorite plushie while you rest. He enjoys that sight so much that he decides to make you his own plushie for you one day as a gift.

· It was a strange little lumpy creature he cobbled together from various fabric scraps and other soft, but unidentified, material, all sloppily hand sewn with little black buttons for eyes. It was a true amalgamation of mismatched cloth and stuffing, and to be honest… You weren’t really sure what it was supposed to be. A bear, maybe? Or a raccoon? Regardless, you take it without question, and once he sees it’s been accepted he’s quick to discard your previous plush. He’s accepting of this hobby to a degree-you can have ONE. And since you were smart and picked the better of the two, you don’t need the ratty old one to cling to for company anymore. You have him and you have his gift, everything else is frivolous.

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dwaekkicidal · 7 months ago

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Kiss it Better

˚ʚLee Know x Gn!readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Minho has a rough day at the company and comes home exhausted, craving your loving.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: <1k (~650)

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: nothing its just tooth rotting fluff

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: double post because ty for 100 followers :3 also max this is ur fault (AGAIN LMAO) im so weak at the idea of this help

edit: MAX POSTED HER OWN VERSION OF THIS PLEASE GO READ IT

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Not long after his messages, Minho waddles into your shared apartment. Kicking his shoes off and throwing his keys on the kitchen table without any care. You peak your head out of the bedroom at the sound of the front door closing. When his eyes meet yours, you see the deep scowl on his face, but his eyes soften immediately at the sight of you. You smile softly and make grabby hands at him before ducking back into the room to start the shower for him. In seconds he’s following you and undressing through the doorway, desperate to get his sweaty clothes off.

You wait patiently on the bed and scroll through your phone. It doesn’t take long for him to return in his boxers, towel drying his hair on his way to the bed. Your phone is quickly tossed to the side and you pull him into the bed with you, watching as he throws himself on his stomach and groans into the sheets. You hold back a giggle at the sight and opt to run your hands down his bare back. He shudders but you can see him physically relax when your hands lightly massage his upper arms. He turns his head to the side, looking back at you as much as he could without straining himself.

“You wanna talk about it? Let me take care of you tonight baby..” You whisper out, the softness in your voice making his eyes shutter close as he nods lightly. You swiftly move to straddle his thighs, placing a kiss on the back of his shoulder and trailing down very slowly as he speaks up. He goes on for a while, explaining how the new choreography they were learning was extremely draining, telling you about the argument he got into with one of the members, and whining about the quality of the dinner he had at the cafeteria. He goes into light details about every other little thing that chipped at his happiness for the day while you trail kisses down his bare back. Your soft hands massaging up from his arms to his shoulder blades and you hum in response to every experience he lists, placing extra kisses for each as a reward.

By the time he’s done telling you about his day, he’s all but a puddle underneath you. Eyes shut and muscles completely relaxed. You back away to sit up, softly dragging your nails up and down his back to keep the attention on him. A wide smile spreads on your face as your eyes catch one of the cutest sights you think you’ve ever seen. Soonie lays next to Minho’s face, licking his hand as he softly caresses his baby. Not far away, Doongie and Dori are laying near each other and sleeping against your pillows. You carefully reach for your phone and take a picture, before laying beside your boyfriend and Soonie.

“Feel better?” Your voice startles him, his eyes closed and breathes lighter than normal. He doesn’t bother opening his eyes to respond with a quiet “Mmmg..”

You get up and walk over to your closet to grab a blanket, not wanting to disturb any of them by going under the sheets. You pick the softest one you own before returning. Soonie is gone when you kneel on the bed and you could almost thank him for the chance to be close to Minho.

You lay your head on the empty space left on the pillow and watch as Minho drags himself up to you, shoving his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. Your hands trail through his hair, massaging his scalp softly as he drifts off.

The two of you fall asleep like this, tangled in each other. There’s a quiet “Thank you" and "I love you so much.” from Minho as he finally falls asleep. You respond with a soft kiss to his forehead, drifting off shortly after.

#lee know x reader #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz x reader #skz imagines #skz fluff #sian’s writing

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ghostofhyuck · 4 months ago

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NCT Dream who has a crush on you (high school edition.)

AN: This is Dreamies' POV from my other scenario! You can check it here to understand the context more. <3

Mark Lee

His first encounter with you was when you went to the faculty room to give your homeroom teacher your class' papers which you collected. Turns out Mark was there to talk to his homeroom teacher. Both of you made eye contact, and Mark being Mark, smiles at you in which you replied with a timid one. Mark found you cute but never had the guts to approach you because you two never bumped into each other the following days. Up until now, he still daydreams about that cute junior of his.

Huang Renjun

You've been classmates with Renjun for a long time and at first, he doesn't notice you at all, really. Until the following year, he just found himself drawn to you. Glancing at you or whenever you passed by him, his eyes just follows you. He's too shy to approach you but he's very entrailed by your beauty. What you don't know is that when you're busy staring at him doodling something at the back of his notebook, Renjun's actually sketching you! Your eyes, face, and your smile. Slowly, you became his muse.

Lee Jeno

OH. OH!!! This is a painful mutual pining apparently. Jeno likes you WAYYYY back then, but he just keeps it all by himself because he thinks he doesn't stand a chance on you. You two have interacted a few times, during group projects where you two are groupmates but that's it. He can count in his fingers the many times you two talked, and sometimes he blames himself for being quiet and awkward that he couldn't muster up the courage to talk to you. :< he's scared that you might be weirded out by him! (no you're not oh my god jeno!!!)

Lee Donghyuck

Sometimes, Haechan just wants to confess to you at any moment when it's just the two of you. When he's walking you home, or when you two are in a convenience store holding ice cream, or maybe during prom, where he was your prom partner. BUT Donghyuck's afraid of ruining your friendship so he just takes care of you in the most possible way without you thinking that he likes you. It's great thing that you're oblivious with his actions. Not noticing that he always have heart eyes on you.

Na Jaemin

Probably the one that knows you have a crush on him because the way you act around him is different from the way you act around guys. And yes, he was celebrating deep inside that the feelings are mutual. Probably won't make a move quickly because he doesn't want to rush things but hey, it's a perfect opportunity for him to get closer to you. He often tease you and is very flirty with you!! He couldn't help it, not when you act shy around him. Oh he's just controlling himself to not hug you right there!

Zhong Chenle

"Hey Chenle, yn's here," Chenle's teammate pointed out. Chenle will curse internally, not his crush watching his game. He thought that your sport is on the same schedule with his match, but looks like it's done already. Chenle was quick to concentrate but he seems more pumped up today compared to his other game, probably because you're there. He has to impress you. That's why he's more active than usual. Scores the most and hypes the crowd too. His team mates keep on teasing him that it's because of you. He denies it though lol.

Park Jisung

I think that Jisung became part of the dance club not only because he has passion for dancing but because he wants to impress you. He's at that phase where he thinks dancing can impress the girl he likes and yeah, he's right about that. So whenever he dances for a school event, he makes sure that he does his best because he never know whether you're watching him or not. ALSO, I think that he's quite popular because of his dancing but he's a shy student when he's not dancing, so he avoids contact whenever you two ran to each other!!!

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct dream fic #nct fic #nct x reader #nct #nct dream imagine #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct dream reactions #nct dream imagines #nct drabbles #nct mark #nct jeno #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct haechan #nct chenle #nct jisung

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iloveboysinred · 4 months ago

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cw; p in v sex, missionary, backshots, cursing, minimal editing (yall know the drill), office sex, rough sex MDNI

Masterlist

Nanami was a pristine man.

He made sure to keep up with his bi-weekly barber’s appointments, and he always made sure his suit was steam cleaned and pressed to perfection.

He very much embodied the concept of professionalism, making sure to be respectful of both the environment and the workspace. He also encouraged you to do the same.

But professionalism was the last thing on you and Nanami’s mind right now.

“Ah! o-oh my god-ken!-“ you gasped, gripping onto his shoulders, the desk creaking under you from the brutal push and pull of his thrusts. His face was buried in your neck, panting and groaning praise in your ear like an animal.

“Shh honey. Let’s try to keep it- fuck! d-down, hmm?” He licked a stripe up the side of your neck, nipping the skin while his hand came down to fondle your breasts, his large palm warm and heavy over your chest. Your blouse might as well have been on the floor. The garment was unbuttoned and hanging off your bicep, swinging back and forth with the movements of your bodies. “Kento i-i can’t- fuck! Its too good!”You shifted down the desk to take in more of him, your pussy stretching around the girth of his dick as you greedily sucked him in, coating his entire length in a mix of your fluids.

He pulled away from your neck, panting hard as he rolled his hips into you over and over, not giving you a second to breathe. His pelvis smacked against the flesh of your ass, the erotic sounds of skin slapping and your hushed moans filling the office space. You tried to be quiet. You really did— but you showed up to work at just the right time, wearing just the right outfit to make a pent up Kento Nanami throw all reason to the wind and fuck you right in his office to the point where the paperwork once on the desk— now under you, was damp and sticky from your fluids and sweat, sticking to the underside of your body as he took you right then and there, over and over and over again.

There was just something so primal about the way he all but slammed you down on the desk, yanking your blouse open to mouth at and suck on your breasts, not even bothering to take your bra off. His hair, usually styled to perfection had been tousled, a few strands sticking to his forehead from sweat. He had taken off his blazer, his blue undershirt unbuttoned at the top and his yellow tie hanging loosely on his neck. He pinned you with a stern gaze, slipping the short pencil skirt off of you with ease, throwing it behind him without a care in the world.

Nanami looked absolutely wild and you were loving every second of it.

It did you no favors though, because he was giving it to you so good, so deep that you had to grit your teeth to be quiet, to not be caught.

You let out a choked wail when he flipped you and fucked into your pussy from behind, stealing the breath from your lungs as he pushed the entirety of his length into you. Quickly you covered your mouth with wide eyes when you realized how loud you had been. Nanami stilled inside of you, roughly grabbing your chin so you could face him. “I thought i told you-“ he started, but there was a few knocks on the door, a quiet “Nanami, are you quite alright? I heard a ruckus.” sounding from outside. You held your breath as you waited for him to respond, your heart beating out of your chest.

“Another sound out of you and we’re done here, sweetheart.” He hushed into your ear, his tone of voice leaving you no will to object.

Another knock. Nanami hastily grabbed his tie from around his neck, shoving the cloth in your mouth.

“Nanami? Should i come in?” The doorknob rattled once, twice. “Nanami?”

He slowly started to thrust into you again, the sound of your sopping wet pussy filling the room. You closed your eyes tight, biting down hard on the cloth to stifle whatever sounds may come out. Nanami ghosted his lips over your ear, grunting when you tightened around him like a vice, his hips stuttering at the sudden increased sensation.

“Everything’s fine. Please do not continue to disturb me.” His voice was steady, firm despite the tightening in his balls as he neared his release. Despite how heavenly you felt around his dick, sucking him into your warm, plush walls. Essentially milking him for everything he had as he kept his pace, grinding his pelvis against your ass with every thrust inside of you. His tip reached so deep, you were starting to think you were feeling him in your stomach.

When the only thing you could hear was the retreating footsteps of whoever was knocking on the door, You breathed a shaky sigh of relief. which was very short lived because soon you were sitting on Nanami’s lap on his office chair, the tie still snug inside your mouth.

“Now” he sighed leaning back into the chair, looking up at you with gleaming eyes. No hint of good-intent behind them. “Show me you can be a good little wife and keep quiet, hmm?”

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stllmnstr · 15 days ago

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sure thing [PREVIEW]

pairing: yang jungwon x f reader

genre: coworkers au, underground boxer jungwon

word count: TBD but likely around 20~25k

release date: nothing official but likely within the next couple of days!

note: tfw you watch the no doubt music video and then write 18k words in the span of 24 hours about office coworker jungwon that is also secretly an underground boxer hahaha relatable, right? anyway expect this soooooon

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

[...]

“Oh,” you startle slightly, walking into the workroom and already finding it occupied. And of course you’d run into him here, of all places. Kneeling in front of the printer, his brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries to dislodge yet another paper jam.

“Sorry.” You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for exactly, but it feels warranted regardless. “I’ll just leave, and—”

“___,” he cuts you off with the sound of your name. Looking down at him, you're met with the expanse of his back. A button down shirt tucked into dark pants. Standard work attire that has no business looking this ridiculously good on anyone. “You’re fine. You don’t need to leave. Just give me a second, and the printer’s all yours.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. If the lack of a verbal response bothers him, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he busies himself with the jammed printer, muscles of his back flexing slightly underneath the fabric of his shirt as he tugs at the stubborn papers.

Cheeks heating slightly, you force your gaze elsewhere.

“There,” he says after another minute of adjustments. Standing to full height, he turns to face you. “All fixed.”

Looking up at him, you’re about to offer a quiet thanks when your eyes land on his right cheekbone. Specifically, the fresh cut that spans the length of it.

The gasp the spills from your lips is entirely without permission. But you can’t quite help it. The wound is quite superficial, surface level at most, but it mars his otherwise perfect skin in a way you weren’t prepared for.

Without your permission, your fingers start to reach towards the injury. They make it halfway before you remember yourself, before you regain your sense of reality. Your hand falls limply back to your side.

“What happened?” You breathe.

Jungwon’s brows draw together in confusion for a moment before a flicker of realization dances across his features.

“Oh.” He exhales, fingers tapping against the broken skin of his cheekbone lightly. “Nothing. I just, er, fell the other day.”

“You fell,” you echo. Like all of his other excuses, it’s vague. Flimsy at best.

“Yeah,” he confirms with a slight nod. Again, he says, “I fell.”

It’s evasive. And it feels like more than just an explanation for his injury.

It feels like confirmation of the distance between the two of you. His final assertion that you’re nothing but a coworker to him. Someone that he tells edited versions of stories to, someone that he keeps firmly planted an arm’s length away.

Fine. If he wants to give you shitty excuses for his Friday nights and his absences at work events and now his injury that very obviously did not come from a fall, that’s just fine with you.

After all, he’s nothing but a coworker to you either. The upcoming date you have planned with Jay is enough to prove it.

“Well,” you tell him, forcing a smile. The fake, disproportionately bright kind that you only ever use with your coworkers. “I hope it heals quickly.”

And then you’re brushing past him, making your way towards the printer as if he’s nothing but an obstacle in your path.

Collecting your freshly printed document, you turn and walk out the door without so much as a backward glance.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

TO BE CONTINUED...

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: office workers AND boxers enha in one music video was crazy work so now I am forcing you all to suffer with me. I have a couple of scenes to finish off, and this piece needs a solid round of editing, but I expect to be done within the next couple of days and then she's allllll yours. if you're excited, let me know!

all the best ♡

#jungwon fanfic #jungwon fanfiction #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #jungwon scenarios #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen scenarios

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phantomarine · 1 year ago

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Clam's Quick Tips for Starting Your Very First Webcomic

Howdy! Here are the three bits of advice I tend to give people who ask me about getting into webcomic-making. Maybe they can help you jump into the fray with a little less fear.

1) Make Your First Chapter a Pilot Episode

You will be told by webcomic veterans to start with a short, simple comic idea first - which is wise - but if all you can think about is your big magnum opus, then you might as well hop in, right? Otherwise you'll just be glancing back at the other cooler project forever.

But if you can't start with a small simple story, start on a small, simple part of that larger story. Your first chapter should be a snapshot of the main conflict - show us a simple scene with few characters, ease us in slowly, keep things clear and focus on emotion/impact/clarity. Get the audience to care by offering something easily digested, but full of promise.

Once you're done with that 'pilot' chapter, and you're feeling more comfortable with the whole comic process, you can open the gates and show us the larger world. At that point, you'll be way more ready.

2) Simplify Your Art Style For Your Own Sanity

Always try to make your webcomic's art style as simple as possible - the standard rule is to use only 75% of your artistic skill for every comic page you make. Otherwise you will burn out quickly and terribly.

But you also need to be PROUD of your art style. If you're really feeling itchy, add a couple bells and whistles to your style so you can look at the finished page and say "Yeah, looks cool." You'll find the right balance the more you draw.

Also, don't be afraid to change your art style as you go along. Ultimate consistency is often impossible in webcomics anyway - so embrace your desire to try new things, streamline your work, whatever you feel needs to happen to be happiest. Sometimes the coolest part of reading a webcomic is noticing that style change - so don't hesitate to embrace it!

3) Resist the Reboot! RESIST!

The curse/blessing of drawing the same things over and over is that you'll inevitably get better at drawing those things. The trouble comes when you look back at old stuff and start thinking "Damn, I could draw that way better now."

You must recognize that this feeling never goes away. Not after a hundred pages. Not after three hundred. Not after a thousand.

I think everyone should be allowed one soft reboot for their first webcomic. Redraw some panels that bother you. Change up some dialogue if it doesn't make sense with your new story ideas. Do maintenance, basically. One of the beauties of webcomics is that they can be easily edited, without reprinting a whole book or remaking a whole game.

But if the ultimate purpose of a webcomic is to tell a story, then constant reboots will just be retelling the same story - slightly better each time, but the same at its core. We've heard it before. Most audiences would rather you save your strength and just keep going, rather than circling back year after year and going "Wait wait wait! I'll do it better this time."

Reboot early, not often, and only when you absolutely must! You're a storyteller, and you're constantly getting better at telling your story. Don't be ashamed of it - look back how much ground you've covered, and keep walking!

---

That's a good start. Happy webcomicking - don't be afraid to jump in, but be prepared to learn a lot very quickly. And if this advice doesn't work for you or adhere to how you did it, that's absolutely fine - webcomics are diverse by nature, and so are their creation processes. Feel out what works best for you, and good luck!

#phantomarine #webcomic #advice #just talking #writing

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ghosts-and-glory · 10 months ago

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Some Narinder character analysis for y’all.

This is a slightly re-edited excerpt from a much longer post of mine where I was specifically trying to provide a rebuttal to someone else. I’m kinda proud of some of my takes here and the write up took me hours so I’m gonna repost it here on its own.

I’m going into specifically into Narinder’s

Speech patterns and way of expressing emotions.

Implications of his post defeat dialogue

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Feelings on Ratau’s death

And a little extra on why do we “babygirl” Narinder

Full analysis under the cut.

The way Narinder expresses his positive feelings

First I gotta establish Narinder’s voice. Narinder seems almost incapable of giving a genuine compliment especially without turning it into something about himself.

Here’s three examples of him giving a complement to The Lamb. Taken from after defeating Amdusias and Shamura. He also complements The Lamb when you sacrifice Ratau but I’ll come back around to that.

I wanted to grab the entire quotes so it didn’t look like I was nitpicking.

"Very good, my vessel. It seems I chose well when I kept you from Death.”

First example, “very good,” is the complement, but immediately after he takes credit for this by calling you “my vessel” thereby claiming ownership over you. His vessel did well. And again “I chose well” doubled down and complemented himself.

“I admit, you have worn it (the red crown) almost as well as I could have myself.”

Again we see the complement layered in ego. “Almost as well as I” in other words you did well, but don’t forget I’m better. Also important to draw attention to is “I admit” this is a very explicit statement of his refusal to acknowledge the success of others.

"Your appetite for death is something I can admire, Vessel. But the Crown is mine, and none - NONE - are worthy. None other than I.”

Here he almost lays down a complement. “Your appetite for death is something I can admire” straight up, states his admiration. He seems to almost realize what he’s done and quickly pulls back into his ego, “But the crown is mine” “-none are worthy- None other than I.”

These are the three of the four ONLY times that Narinder ever says anything explicitly positive about someone else when he is a god. Thus establishing that the head ass cannot give out a compliment to save his life. The one time he gives you full credit for your actions he immediately pulls right back into his ego.

I cannot stress this enough. Someone who is characterized as cold and emotionally closed off as Narinder is WILL NOT suddenly undo this characteristic when they try and express a positive feeling.

Okay with that established we can look at his follower dialogue. Specifically these two examples from when you resurrect a follower and allow him to go on a mission.

“I cannot begrudge supplantation by one such as yourself.”

Literally saying I don’t resent you for taking my place. It’s not an explicit statement that he respects you but this is he weird fucked up little way of saying it. Of course he still lays it out in a way that’s self centred but we know from the way he has spoken that this is about as much verbal praise he is capable of giving.

The other one is a less explicit statement but I think it’s a interesting reflection of the final place of his character.

“…my thanks, Lamb.”

Being his last bit of unique dialogue, it’s an incredible ending to a character. He thanks you. That’s all he needed to say.

Narinder’s reaction to his defeat that he would rather die.

Let’s go over his dialogue in some depth.

"You weak, snivelling, foul thing. You - wait! Waaaiiiiiit!"

I’m starting with this line as it compels me the most. I find that there are two separate readings of this and I can’t really point to one above the other. On my play through I had assumed his wailing was more in reference to being denied death. It could also be read as him not wanting to be reduced to a follower and realizing what your mercy really means for his future.

“-are you to be a vengeful false idol, or a merciful coward? No longer can you blame your vile acts on me."

Okay, looking at the way he presents your two options he seems to push more for the murder action. “-vengeful false idol,” is how he refers to murder. It’s not exactly a glowing review but his use of the word vengeful is important. We know that one of Narinder’s main goals in the game is revenge, we he already acts with revenge I can’t say that he’s using this word as an insult. The false idol part of this statement seems like he’s attempted to separate himself from you, again for is ego.

Then he presents the spare option by calling you a “merciful coward.” The flow of this full sentence puts more pressure on this option. He presents it as the “or” the second option. This is the bad option, the option of a coward.

“So. vou are no different to me after all. You have become as I am."

I know this is a deranged order to go over these quotes but last we got murder. Compared to his spare dialogue this is incredibly sombre. We know from already establishing how big his ego is that saying you are the same as him is almost a compliment. I do find this dialogue incredibly interesting tho, I can’t exactly explain why but I can’t help but read this as damning as well. It’s like he means it in both ways, the ultimate fuck you. You are just as I am, for better and worse.

But from what we know about Narinder his edgy ass cannot express emotion. He wraps his statements in layers of irony and selfishness. Unless it supports the persona he puts on or inflates his ego he WILL NOT right out state his feelings or needs, especially when he was a chained god.

Relationship with Aym and Baal

Aym and Baal are incredibly hard to characterize. They don’t have much dialogue to work off of and only three characters every speak on them, Shamura, Narinder and Forneus. The context of the game does present them as more Narinder’s first (and second) hand, less followers more apprentices, almost, but where’s the fun in assuming.

"Intended as keepers, perhaps, but they were young and in need of guidance. Must I be blamed for my influence?"

I wanna draw attention to the specific wording of keepers. Again, based on the way Narinder speaks its safe to assume he means the formal meaning of a keeper, meaning a caretaker. It is unclear if Narinder was told they where his keepers or if he assumed so, but either way he still speaks on them as such.

For the sake of argument (and I don’t wanna rewrite this bit entirely) I’m gonna put the idea that Narinder brainwashed Aym and Baal against my presented idea of them being his keepers or apprentices.

The proposed idea of the brainwashing angle can be developed based on Narinder saying that “they where young and in need of guidance, must I be blamed for my influence.” This implies that, as much as Aym and Baal may have been sent as keepers, they where still young and Narinder could not help but be an influence on them. I am gonna come back around to this thread so hold onto this for a moment. Moving on.

“Two kits I did have, true love found! And yet one lackadaisy summer day, my beautiful children were taken away... a gift, they said, for the one they loved most, the one that waits...”

“Ooh, kits... I remember, I remember... two kits in my claws... a gift.."

It is unclear and morally dubious how Aym and Baal came to Narinder. First we’re not 100% where Narinder is chained. The wiki lists it as the afterlife and in dialogue Narinder refers to it as “at the gates between this life and the next, trapped at the nexus of what was and what wasn't.” (When he asks you to send him on a mission.) We can travel there both by dying and being summoned there by him.

Either way the assumption is that Aym and Baal had to die. (As an aside I have my own speculation on the conditions required for a person to be presented to Narinder or to be resurrected but that’s off topic.) The horrific implications being that either Shamura themself killed the kits or that they where already dying. However you cannot blame the reaper for ushering the dead away from life.

I’m going to work off of the cult specific definition and characteristics of brainwashing. It’s hard to characterize where Aym and Baal sit here as, again they have little dialogue and due to the nature of brainwashing it’s hard to spot. First I wanna grab my brainwashing resources.

I’m using Encyclopedia Britannica’s page on brainwashing, cults, indoctrination, manipulation as my primary resourse.

Again I kinda wanna apply a layer of irony to how literally I apply real life tragedy to this game that obviously uses cults in a comedic manner. I wanna focus in on the characteristics displayed by victims of brainwashing and the techniques used in brainwashing by an abuser.

Looking at the elements used in brainwashing the only one I can say off the bat that is present is isolation, obviously. But with that let’s grab all of Aym and Baal’s dialogue.

What is clear from their dialogue is their obedience to Narinder. They call him master while his keepers and still when you meet them later when adventuring. And physically we do see them by Narinder’s side the entire main game and they fight the Lamb first. But if we add some nuance and look at their role as keepers or my own theory of being apprentices both actions of obedience make sense still for those roles. On the same note they also don’t display traits you would expect for someone fully under Narinder’s control. They speak to the Lamb out of turn and attack without prompting from Narinder.

Other characteristics are hard to imply. With torture I do want to pass it off an unlikely as based on the way Narinder tries to manipulate the Lamb it’s only verbal and he cannot attack while chained and I don’t see that changing with the keepers. Traits like sleep, water and food deprivation can’t be applied for various reasons (mostly the being dead one) and we don’t know anything about Narinder and the keeper’s interactions in the past so I’ll have to disregard other traits like suggestion.

Baal: "It's you. Usurper of the Red Crown. The one who freed us."

Aym: "Ha! You are nothing compared to our Master. We have not been in this world long, but already I can tell you are weak. You lack discipline. Our Master wielded Death with precision and control. You allow chaos to reign."

Baal: "What my brother means to say is thank you."

Moving onto groupthink I can pretty comfortably say that this is not a present characteristic of Aym and Baal. In their limited dialogue we can easily characterize Aym as more outwardly defensive of Narinder but Baal is more reserved and even contradicts Aym and is able to speak freely of Narinder.

Looping back around to the way Narinder speaks on his influence on Aym and Baal. Again we know how Narinder speaks, he cannot give honest compliments and dodges affection like it’s a professional sport. With the way he will outright tell the Lamb to manipulate followers and then uses the words “guidance” and “influence” about Aym and Baal, he has to be avoiding admitting affection to the keepers. He does follow that up with “Do what you wish, scornful God. I care not for them.” But again does Forneus not also allow her kits to do as they wish?

My own reading of Narinder’s relation to Aym and Baal is that of mentorship but it could also be read as parental. But saying brainwashed is a big stretch.

His feelings on the death of Ratau

This is like another example of like, yeah, wow, an evil character does evil? Who could’ve possibly foreseen this? Sarcasm aside I do see his comments on this being a lesser evil.

First I do have to ask why, if Narinder held strong sense of unrest against his former vessel, did he not have him struck down? The main reason I can see is that Ratau is still devoted to the red crown, most clearly seen by the statue at the lonely shack which generates devotion.

Second, Ratau’s death isn’t on his hands, it’s on yours. I find his pride here is from The Lamb’s actions not the death of Ratau. You killed your mentor, he describes your actions as “treacherous opportunism” and says “A great Vessel takes their master's will as their own.” Based on his later dialogue this is likely more foreshadowing the Lamb becoming as Narinder is. Narinder tried to kill his siblings, and you did kill your mentor. “You have become as I am."

I’m gonna tangent quickly cause there’s a line here that is incredibly interesting.

"He renounced his position after striking a bargain that resulted in the sacrifice of a Follower. He was weak."

Incredibly interesting the way he condemns Ratau’s sacrifice of a follower. Narinder directly contradicts himself. It is implied that the follower was lost to another being that did not benefit Narinder, but the Lamb also sacrifices followers to the Fox and Midas. Just something to chew on.

Why do we “babygirl” Narinder and other evil characters?

This is kinda the last bit I’m gonna get into before I cap this off. It is incredibly funny for me to say “I babygirl Narinder” only to get a reply that’s like “I don’t think you babygirl him on purpose.” But I wanna talk about why this happens and why it happened to specifically Narinder.

When people complain about the fandom interpretation of Narinder I think they forget the tone of cult of the lamb. The closest thing I could think to call it would be a dark comedy kinda energy.

The game has very dark themes going on. Mentions of real horrible things like genocide, cults and religious abuse. But also just like look at the game, it’s visual style is so cute and non threatening, the bird characters have two mouths to commit to the bit. If you look at the way it depicts cults it’s very surface level, it’s more focused on being a satire on the common satanic media kinda look of a cult. Visually it bathes in its aesthetics, taking names from books like The Lessee Key of Solomon, uses villainous depictions of symbols like the pentagram or old Hebrew script, disregarding its nuanced origins.

And then they go onto do the funniest thing ever. The other bishop’s? Gross little freaks, based on commonly disliked animals, worm, frog, squid and spider. And then- and then they make the god of death, who they characterize and manipulative and evil, they make him a catboy. You cannot tell me they did not know what they where doing.

Why have I shot Narinder with the babygirl beam? CAUSE THE GAME DID IT FIRST!

I’m gonna call the god of death my little meow meow and point out his status as a Tumblr sexy man cause he’s a little guy and I wanna give him head scritches. But I’m also gonna call him a layered, fucked up and an incredibly interesting character in the same breath.

#my post #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cult of the lamb narinder #cotl the one who waits #cult of the lamb the one who waits #character analysis #Malachi Why?

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winchesterwild78 · 5 months ago

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Safely in Your Arms

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife)

Warnings: None, just a sweet story of our rough hunter who needs to be cuddled and loved. Fluffy, brief mention of a past hunt.

A/N: Writing and having Supernatural playing in the background lends to some inspiration. Our Dean deserves love, comfort and cuddles. Lots of cuddles. I wrote this fast and edited it just as fast. Please enjoy.

💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

You stood on your tiptoes as you tried to reach the flour that Dean had put on the top shelf. You huffed in frustration and cursed under your breath. “Damn it, Dean. Why do you have to be so friggin tall?” You huffed. You grabbed a chair and was about to climb it when you heard that deep chuckle coming from behind you. You turned and saw your husband leaning against the doorframe watching you and laughing.

You smirked, walked over to him and pointed in his chest “What’s so funny, Mr. Winchester?” He grabbed you around your waist, pulling you into him and replied “You are, Mrs. Winchester.” Then he kissed your forehead. “Need some help sweetheart?” “Yes, if you want me to make this pie. I need the flour you put on the top shelf.” You pointed. He walked over and grabbed it without any problem and chuckled.

You rolled your eyes and thanked him. Dean sat at the table and watched you work. He loved watching you in the kitchen, well let’s be honest he loved watching you do anything. Especially when you were baking. His favorite part of watching you was when you were reading and you would bite your lip as you concentrated, or how you would wrinkle your nose up when your hands touched raw dough.

When the two of you got married it took awhile for Dean to believe he deserved this kind of life. He was always terrified of being close to anyone. For fear they would be taken away. You pushed your way through his walls and when he finally let you in he hasn’t looked back. You quickly realized early on in your relationship that Dean’s love language was physical touch and he learned that yours was acts of service. He had a hard time at first letting you do things for him, but he’s gotten better.

Since Dean grew up in the hunter life it was hard on him in more ways than one. His father, John, was not a very affectionate man. Especially with his children. So Dean had to take on the role of mother and father for Sammy. He made sure Sam grew up having as much stability as possible. You had no doubt that he would make an incredible father one day. Since Dean didn’t have a mother for much of his life, Jody had become his unofficial mom, he was hard to love at first. Each touch, kiss and show of affection was met with gruffness and walls. Eventually you were able to get him to trust you.

You were making the dough for one of your famous pies. You loved baking for Dean, and he loved eating whatever you made for him. While you were rolling out the dough, Dean came up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist and looked over your shoulder. You giggled as he kissed your neck. “Looking good sweetheart.” He kissed your neck. “Need any help?” He kissed your cheek.

You smiled “Dean, if you keep distracting me I won’t get this pie done.” He huffed and turned you to face him. “Fine, finish baking so I can hold you.” He kissed your lips then started to let you go. You grabbed his hand and pulled him back to you. “I didn’t say I was done with you, Winchester.” You pulled him flush to your flour covered shirt and kissed him deeply. He moaned into your mouth. You could feel his arousal growing. You pulled away and he groaned. “Okay, now I’m done with you.” You giggled.

Dean smirked, “Be glad you’re making pie, sweetheart, but I will get you back later.” He playfully slapped your ass. You finished prepping the pie and put it in the oven. When you turned around you saw your gorgeous husband sitting at the table waiting. “Okay baby, we have about an hour before the pie is ready, what do you want to do?”

Dean stood up and stretched. As he did his shirt lifted and you saw the top of his hips peaking out from his jeans. You licked your lips. He grabbed your hand and led you to the “Dean cave”. “I figured we could start a movie or something if you wanted to.” He smiled softly. You sat on the couch beside Dean and grabbed a blanket. He turned on the tv and you sat staring at him. Tracing his face and watching how each freckle lit up with the changing light from the television. You were deeply and madly in love with Dean from the moment he saved you from the vampire nest you were dragged to. Dean has loved you since the minute he laid eyes on you, well, almost. It was supposed to be a quick vamp kill. In and out. However, when Dean and Sam got to the nest they found you. Laying, tied up and fighting for your life. Dean saw you and immediately ran to you. You punched him in the nose thinking he was a vamp. Thank goodness you didn’t hurt him. He untied you and wrapped you in his strong arms and kept saying “You’re safe in my arms, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

From that moment on you have always felt safe in his arms. You laid your head on his shoulder trying to pay attention to the tv, but you couldn’t concentrate. Dean was mindlessly running his fingers up and down your arm. It started to tickle and you squirmed. “Dean, that tickles” you giggled. “What? What does, this?” He tickled up your arm and you squirmed. Dean laughed loudly. You loved seeing and hearing him laugh.

“Dean, stop tickling me.” You squealed. “Okay, okay” he said, raising his hands in defeat. “Thank you.” You laughed as you laid your head on his shoulder again. Dean smirked “you know what, naw. I love hearing you laugh too much. Sorry sweetheart.” He grabbed you and pulled you close, tickling you all over. You squealed and squirmed under him as laughter filled the room. Dean had you on the floor now. He was on top of you running his hands over your body hitting every spot he knew would elicit a laugh or giggle.

You heard the timer go off for the pie. “Dean….stop….the….pie….” you were able to say between giggles and breaths. He stood up and helped you up. “Okay, sweetheart. Go get the pie out.” He kissed you as you stood up and you started to walk away. Before you could get too far he pulled you back to him and both of you tumbled to the couch. You were on top of him and he smiled. “God you’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He leaned up and kissed your lips. “You’re not bad yourself, Winchester. Now let me get your pie out before I burn it.” You smiled and got up.

You got the pie out in time and set it on the counter to cool. You felt your husband's strong arms wrap around you again. You leaned into his chest and he held you tight.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you, Y/N?” Dean whispered in your ear. “No, but I have a good idea.” You whispered back. Dean kissed your neck and you melted in his arms. “I have an idea sweetheart.” Dean said, turning you to face him. You looked in his beautiful green eyes and saw so much love and happiness. It made you indescribably happy to see Dean like this. Living a life filled with love, happiness and everything he deserves. “What’s your idea, baby?” “Since we have to wait for the pie to cool, why don’t we go work on our next project?” He said enthusiastically. You knew what he was talking about but you wanted to play coy. “Oh, and what project is that? Remodeling the shower, cleaning out the basement, working on the car?” You smirked. “Nope.” He answered by popping the p. “Hmm I can’t think of any other project we’ve been working on.” You grinned.

Dean smirked and pulled you closer to him. “You sure about that sweetheart?” “Hmmm, yep.” You grinned and wiggled out of his arms. “You might have to jog my memory, Dean.” You said as you walked to the door. Dean growled playfully and you squealed, running towards your shared room. You reached the door and pushed it open. Dean stuck his foot in the door, preventing you from closing it. You both were laughing as he grabbed you and took you in his arms. You both collapsed on the bed laughing.

“I love you Dean. So much.” “I love you too, sweetheart,” He wrapped you in his arms and held you tight. You sighed contently because you always felt safe when he held you. “Yes, Dean. Let’s work on the project now. I want to have your baby.” “Really sweetheart? You’re ready to have a baby? His eyes sparkled. “Yes, Dean. I am. Let’s have a baby.” Dean kissed you deeply and held you tight. “Thank you sweetheart, thank you.”

You knew no matter what life brought your way, as long as you (and anyone else that came along) had Dean, you would always be safe.

Tags: @nescaveckdaily @kr804573 @k-slla @jackles010378 @jawritter

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @roseblue373 @cheynovak @jassackles @chriszgirl92

@suckitands33 @arcannaa @n-o-p-e-never @ladysparkles78 @smoothdogsgirl

@hobby27 @manicjk @stoneyggirl2 @stoneyggirl2

#hes gorgeous #jensen ackles #so damn sexy #jackles #dean winchester #dean winchester x plus size!reader #dean x reader

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sunsetchicane · 4 months ago

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Postcards - Part 1 [LN4]

lando norris x journalist fem!reader

find the series here

word count: 10k

summary: The one where everything begins. You are working a gala and run into Lando Norris. A whirlwind evening brings you to a crossroads, your budding new relationship hanging in the balance.

warnings: tiny bit a swearing here and there, slight sexual innuendo, angst, all around pretty mild (for nowww)

author's note: I am so excited to start this series!! I have been planing and scheming and I can't wait for you all to see it unfold. Releasing part one is completely surreal. As always, feedback is appreciated, so please let me know of any questions/concerns/comments you have. Lots of love and I hope you enjoy!! [xoxo elle]

December 2021

With trembling fingers, you smooth out the fabric of your evening dress. You’ve done this countless times already, but another time can’t hurt. After checking yourself over in the mirror once more, running your fingers through your hair to make sure it looks right, and dabbing on a little more lip gloss, you exit the bathroom to rejoin your colleagues.

The event space sparkles around you with seasonal cheer. For the last few weeks, you were volunteered, without your consent, to help your department put on a charity gala. Since you were the freshest hire, it made sense that you were put on tasks that didn’t exactly fit your job description.

When you started working for a prestigious international publication based in Monaco, you expected to jump right in. You were an eager early graduate ready to take on the world at the ripe age of 21. Since you walked into the office on your very first day, you itched to grab your camera and hop on a flight anywhere to start chasing a story. Instead, you’ve spent the last few months being assigned to this and that around the office, slowly climbing your way up the metaphorical totempole.

Was it egregious at first? Most definitely.

Being in one place for an extended amount of time has never been your thing. You did two years of university on campus, but quickly grew tired of it. So, you switched to online and finished up in record time, all while hopping from place to place. However, you’ve slowly grown accustomed to seeing the same people everyday and making friends along the way while working in Monaco. It surprises you how fond you’ve become of this place. You’ve never called anywhere home, but this city has become as close as you think you’ll ever get.

Picking up your camera bag and black leather binder, you make your way towards the bar where the rest of the team set up shop. As you walk over to the huddle, you take a minute to truly admire all the work put into this gala. The giant arching windows of the event space are dressed in white and gold silks that match the table cloths and decor. Glittering lights hang from the vaulted ceiling, casting a warm glow over the large room. Candles line every table, causing the glasses and white porcelain plates to sparkle in the sultry lighting. There’s a dance floor in the front of the room, behind which is a short stage filled with the hired band’s instruments. And finally, there’s your favorite part. On the far side of the room, a silent auction is being held. There are tables lined with exclusive works from your company. There are first editions, rare prints, iconic autographed pieces, everything that makes a journalist or a collector want to combust. Finding all of the works that are on auction tonight was an incredibly difficult task, but equally as gratifying. It all looks just how you imagined it – exactly how you planned it.

Stealing a few more seconds for yourself, you snap a few shots of the details. The lighting gives the photos a sensual cascade of warm colors. You adore the way they look and can’t wait to capture more moments as the night goes on.

You hear your name being called from over by the bar. Snapping out of your creative stupor, you briskly walk over to the small crowd of your coworkers. They’re going over final checks to make sure everything is in order before we open the doors in an hour. Bobbi, serving as point for tonight's event, delegates tasks to everyone. As they’re assigned a duty, they bugger off to execute it as quickly as possible. After everyone leaves, it’s just you and Bobbi.

“You need to work your camera so hard tonight that you have to invoice the company for a new one.” She says pointedly, her tone firm and commanding. Bobbi has the ‘scary leader’ bit down to a science. However, you’re not afraid of her. She’s genuinely a great person, not to mention a brilliant writer, and also the closest friend you’ve probably ever had. She’s a couple years older than you and has been a bit of a mentor over the months that you’ve worked under her. She’s the no-nonsense to your fully nonsense life. In short, she keeps you grounded, humble.

“Working her like a racehorse, boss.” You confirm, nodding and giving her a mock-serious face.

“Don’t call me that.” She says while collecting her things into a neat pile. “And wipe that look off your face before it gets stuck like that.”

That puts a small smile on your face as she walks away. You watch as she stops here and there, straightening things out or fixing a wrinkle in a table cloth. Quickly, you snap a couple shots of her when she’s not looking. She looks effortlessly classy in her black dress and heels and slicked back black hair. You can’t help but hope you look as put together as her. But the chances are good you most definitely don’t. A word to the wise: if you’re going to live in Monaco, learn how to dress. Everything here is to the nines or not at all.

The next hour until the doors open is quick, maybe too quick. You’re in a bit of a tizzy as the guests start arriving. There are countless paparazzis and journalists waiting alongside the carpeted stairs that bring the guests to the front doors. You stand stationed inside to capture the night in candids. Your photos will be used in the next publication, so you have to do well. There’s a lot riding on your performance tonight. No pressure, right?

Glittering people slip through the doors, spilling into the event. You watch from the edges and shadows as their mouths fall open at the splendor. They lean into each other and whisper about the decor and ambiance. It makes your heart race, wondering exactly what they’re saying. It’s the nosy journalist in you that needs an answer to every question.

When the moment feels right, you snap pictures as discreetly as you can. It’s your job to be invisible amongst the party-goers. These people are here for charity and to socialize. The money that they haul in with them is far more than you could even bear to think about. It drips from them as they walk; it tumbles from their pockets, unnoticed. Celebrities and politicians and everyone in between has been invited tonight. There’s a tight feeling in your chest as you take picture after picture of the wealthy. There’s a large disconnect between you and these people. Not so long ago, it was a great day if you ended up with three meals and clean clothes to wear. Now look at you–taking pictures of men who wear watches that could finance the rest of your life.

As the time slides by and the sun settles itself into the horizon, the flow of guests has nearly stopped. A few tailenders slip in before the doors close, signifying the real beginning of the night. The music plays quietly in the background, but is nearly drowned out by the chatter that rises from each and every table. There are groups of people standing and socializing, a few people slung along the bar, and the rest are seated at their assigned spots. Sighing, you let your camera fall to your side for the first time since the first guest arrived. You’ve been working the room, snapping shots of any and everything that catches your eye.

You walk back over to the foyer, seeking out one last shot before the meal is served and toasts begin. As you walk, you adjust the settings on your camera so you’ll get the shot just right. Without checking around you, you bring the camera up to your eye to test the settings by taking a couple photos. Immediately, your eye catches on someone in the viewfinder. He’s standing along the wall, his head ducked down into a glass of champagne. His eyes are scanning over the bustling crowd of people. You can only see him in profile, but he looks nearly perfect leaned up against that wall with the icy glass pressed to his lips. His black suit glitters in the soft lighting along with his eyes. His skin is a warm tan, working blessedly well with the lighting that surrounds him. Quickly, you zoom in and frame up a better shot of just him. The shutter snaps shut a few times. As it does so, you watch in horror as the man starts to turn his face toward you, looking right down your lens. You capture it all in a line of photos. His furrowed frown melts into a sly smile as he catches you photographing him. He laughs a little while shaking his head.

When you finally take a moment to look at him, you find that you actually know him. Well, know of him. Bobbi’s son has forced you to sit down and watch Formula One reruns with him on multiple occasions. The face of one of his favorite drivers is this face in front of you. Lando Norris, Formula One driver for McLaren. And by the looks of it, a total cocky bastard. A cute bastard, but bastard nonetheless.

Needing to escape this situation, you try to remember why you were over here. You can’t believe you got so distracted so quickly. Thinking briefly, you remember the photo that you need to take. Just as you turn around to find the shot, a voice rumbles in your ear. His accent is acutely British and sends a wave of chills running down your spine. He’s unnervingly close, his breath hitting your ear and neck. It should make you terribly uncomfortable, but it doesn’t.

“Did you get my good side?” He asks smoothly, a hint of humor in his voice. As you turn to face him, there’s a cheeky smile plastered onto his young face. Seeing him this close, it strikes you now just how young he is. He can’t be much older than you, if at all. His hazel eyes are bright and glinting with humor as you stare him down.

“That depends,” You muse, folding your arms over your chest. “Which side is that?”

“You tell me, you’re the professional.” He shoots back with a wink while gesturing at your camera with his glass of champagne. You catch yourself before rolling your eyes, it’s too early to be harassing the guests. Instead, you decide to play his little game. You’re always up for a game.

Bringing your fingers to tap against your lips, you hum in faux concentration. Tentatively, you take steps to the right, examining his left side.

“No…” You say, expressing that it wasn’t his “good side.” But it’s simply not true, all of his sides are good sides. Pressing on, you take a few steps to your left to check out the right side.

“No,” You say again, a little more firmly. Instead of standing in front of him once more, you continue to walk around him.

“Ah!” Humor is clear in your voice as you stop directly behind him, staring at the back of his head. His hair is fluffy, but styled nicely for tonight. His neck is long and thick, causing his suit to bunch at the collar just slightly. His hands are tucked together behind his back, his glass dangerously close to spilling the remaining contents. You have to admit that he’s quite cute. The internal admission makes you blush to yourself.

“This is perfect.” You joke, trying to shake off your thoughts about him. You bring your camera out to take a couple shots of him. His head turns to the side just enough so you can capture a sliver of his face in your last photo. Once you’re done snapping pictures, he turns around with his tongue tracing over his front teeth. There’s a coy smile that plays on his pink lips. He takes your joke in stride, the humor most definitely not lost on him. You like a man who can take a joke.

“Jokes on you, I know I have a lovely backside.” He says quietly while leaning in to you slightly. One of his eyebrows pops up while he grins at you. You scoff a little while shaking your head. He’s nearly exactly as you’d imagined him. The way his eyes sparkle captivates you, drawing you in. In this lighting it's hard to tell exactly what the color of his irises are, but it’s a challenge you would love to take. You think about holding him close and slowly piecing together the puzzle that is Lando Norris.

Just as you’re about to make a witty comment about his backside, the feedback of a microphone turning on pulls your attention away. Suddenly, you remember that you’re not here to chat and flirt with the guests. You’re on the clock. Chiding yourself for being so easily distracted, you quickly switch the memory SD card in your camera for a new one.

“Duty calls,” You say quietly to Lando, “Excuse me.”

He blinks at you a couple of times, unsure of how to proceed. It looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to dash out on him. The thought makes you laugh. Everyone should expect you to dash out at the first chance. Though, as you look into his eyes, for the first time in a long time, maybe you don’t want to run. And that scares the shit out of you. Before you do something you’ll definitely regret, you turn on your heels to escape to anywhere but here.

“Make sure you send those to me. I love a good ass pic.” Lando calls to you as you walk away. In spite of yourself, you send him a grin over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

For the rest of the night, you try to focus on your job, but you catch your eye wandering. Whether it be of desire or compulsion, you weren’t completely sure, you look for him in the crowd of people. You search for him in the photos you take. His smile has etched itself into your long term memory, his charming demeanor dances across your mind. Savoring every time you get a half glance of him or just a piece of him in one of your photos, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever speak to him again.

The gala drags on. Party-goers get drunk and spend copious amounts on things that most of them will just hang on a wall to glance at occasionally. Staying to the edges as you’ve been told to, you watch in on these people. As you do, you feel something odd settling in your chest, a feeling that you’ll never belong here truly. It’s not a foreign feeling to you anymore, not after everything you’ve been through. However, rejection is rejection. All you are to these people is a silly girl with a camera, a wallflower, the help. A wave of emotion crests in your mind and crashes down into your heart. The overwhelming feeling of needing to run away from here, to escape these people and their frivolous lives takes over all of your senses.

Checking the time, you decide that you’ve done your part. It’s late into the night and the gala seems to be winding down. Sliding along the walls of the room, you make your way over to the corner where Bobbi has been looming all night. Her eyes scan over a paper in her binder as you sidle up next to her. She gives you a half glance before continuing to read whatever is in front of her.

“Leaving?” Bobbi says in that specific Bobbi way that makes you feel caught. You blame it on the fact that she’s a mother. Hence why you can’t help but feel like a small child caught in the act.

“Uh, if that’s alright with you, bos–Bobbi.” You stammer, feeling a little out of sorts. You usually aren’t the stumbling and bumbling type. Bobbi doesn’t miss it. She side-eyes you carefully, analyzing you from head to toe. After a couple of seconds of feeling like a circus spectacle, she sighs and closes the black binder in her hands.

“Go,” Bobbi says as her hands drop to her sides. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

Relief floods through you as the words come out of her mouth. You’re so pleased you think you could actually kiss her on the mouth. But that would be highly unprofessional while on the job. Instead, you thank her verbally.

Dashing off, you collect your bag and coat from the room in the front. You carefully tuck away your camera into your bag and pull out your wallet. The party continues behind you as you pull your jacket on, sling your backpack over your shoulders, and all but run out the front doors.

December air crashes into your lungs as you slip into the night. You savor the fresh way it fills your lungs, replacing the stifling heat of the party. Taking the stairs in twos, you bound towards the street to hail a taxi. You don’t have a car and biking here in a dress didn’t seem like a great move, so a taxi was the best you could do.

A few people line the street, standing scattered along the sidewalk in front of the event. The valet kiosk is busy with a few people who seem to be fleeing the party early as well. Smiling to yourself, you can’t help but wonder what is driving each of these poor souls home so soon. What are all of these people running from?

Your eye is caught by a flash of yellow. Raising your hand and reaching out onto the street, you attempt to wave down the taxi. You watch as it slows down and pulls in right behind a car that’s just been pulled up into the valet area. The sleek sports car hums with power that you’ve only recently become acquainted with. Monaco’s collection of cars seems to be endlessly vast and magnificently sexy. In the low lighting, the black car nearly fades into the night. Only the gleaming highlights of the reflective carbon fiber exterior and the glow of the headlights and taillights give away its shape. Your eyes are glued to it, wondering if the rattle in your chest is from the rumbling engine or just your stuttering heart. It’s no surprise when you didn’t notice him stride up next to you.

“Wicked, huh?” Lando says, standing just off to your right. For a few moments in your mesmerized state, you don’t recognize him. His eyes are on you, but you still haven’t peeled your eyes away from the car.

“Yeah,” You agree absentmindedly as you drag your eyes over the vehicle. Everything has faded into a blur, even your waiting taxi a thought of the past.

“Wanna ride?” Lando offers, the words tumbling out of his mouth. With that, your mind snaps back into focus. A frown falls over your face as you turn to the man standing next to you. There’s a warning poised on your lips, ready to tell off some stupid man that just because he has a fancy car, it doesn’t mean that he can just get whatever or whoever he wants. The second your eyes lock with Lando’s, the venom you were ready to spit is gone and lost. His eyes are wide and his bottom lip is pulled into his mouth as he looks at you. Your jaw goes slightly slack and for the first time in a long time, you’re speechless. You really aren’t on your game tonight. Chiding yourself, you shake off your inhibitions and try to fall back into your normal self.

“I mean,” Lando says while shifting from foot to foot and clearing his throat. “Would you like a ride home?”

Pink has started to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. A pinched and slightly embarrassed expression covers his face. It surprises you slightly. You thought that he was all bravado and classic arrogance. This display of sheepishness has caught you by surprise. Once more, you recognize just how young he is–how young both of you are. Teenage blushing and awkwardness haven’t completely left you yet. Something about it warms you in a way that you desperately need.

Glancing over at your taxi, you weigh your options. But there really isn’t a choice here, is there? Not taking Lando’s offer would be a slap in your own face and a shame to all of your core truths. There’s something deeper at play as well. It feels as though you’re looking into the eyes of fate, your destiny being drawn out before you. Plus, it kinda helps that he’s cute.

“Take me away,” You say, a genuine smile coming to your face. He blinks at you once before returning your smile in full force.

“Come on then,” He says while beckoning you to follow him. In a few brief steps, he stops in front of the passenger door and pulls it open. The butterfly doors lift up, exposing the luxurious interior. You think you might combust.

“I’m Lando, by the way.” He says, one hand holding the door and the other extending toward you. There’s a slightly smug look on his face. Narrowing your eyes at him, you slide your hand into his. It’s the first time you’ve ever touched. His skin feels warm against yours, his fingertips branding prints into the back of your hand. Sparks fly out from where you’re joined together, goosebumps cascading over your skin. Never have you had a physical connection make you feel this way, let alone a handshake. Something flickers to life deep inside of you. Lando’s touch has just awoken something that you didn’t know was there, but now cannot deny the existence of.

With your hand still in his, you tell him your name. To your delight, he repeats it back to you. The way it rolls off his tongue, painted in his accent, makes you want to drop to your knees. Sweet like honey is the way it feels to be in his presence.

“Pleasure,” He says. It doesn’t sound like a casual remark, though. It sounds more like a promise. The thought makes your stomach do a flip.

“Likewise,” You say, your voice coming out soft as velvet. The way his eyes are watching you makes you feel alive. Every nerve ending in your body is standing at attention, ready for whatever comes next. You might call yourself a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and this adventure with Lando has you buzzing.

“Hop in, love.” Lando says before finally dropping your hand. Butterflies flap in your stomach at the casual endearment. Sending him a small, crooked smile, you slide into the seat in front of you. After closing the door with careful hands, he rounds the car and joins you inside behind the wheel. The hum of the engine fills your ears as you allow yourself to analyze the interior. Black surrounds you, lit up by red LED lights placed around the console and dash. You tuck your bag by your feet before strapping yourself in with the seat belt.

“Where to?” Lando asks, his hand reaching out. For a split second, your heart starts to race, thinking he’s reaching out to take your hand. It would be a bold move, but not one you’d be opposed to. But he stops short, his long fingers resting over the gear stick. Flicking your eyes from his hand to his face, you tell him your address. He nods and then pushes the car into gear, leading the two of you off into the night.

Now, you should probably have thought twice about sharing your address with a total stranger, but the truth is, you don’t know how long you’ll actually be living here. In your mind, everything is temporary. Permanence has never been a rule in your game. So, sharing your home address with someone you just met and somewhat have started to trust doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Plus, you don’t think Lando has the stomach to be a serial killer, so he has that going for him.

“How long have you been in Monaco?” Lando asks, his eyes not leaving the road. Taking the opportunity to stare at his side profile, you contemplate how to answer.

“A few months. I started a job here with the company that hosted the event tonight.” You say, shrugging and turning your head to watch the buildings fly by. Lights dance across your eyes, streaks of it blurring into the cityscape around you. You’ve never been in a car like this before. It’s mesmerizing, the way the sound and feel of it mixes with the visual, causing a sensory explosion. Powerful is the only way you can describe it. You wonder how it feels to harness such power. The man next to you does it so frequently, it’s no wonder he is the way he is. This understanding makes you feel warm, like without asking or him telling you, you’ve started to see him. It’s a brand new experience for you to feel this way in a personal matter.

“What exactly do you do there?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts. You can feel his eyes on you now. The thought of him stealing glances at you while his eyes should be locked on the road makes little fireworks go off in your chest.

“I’m supposed to be a journalist.” You sigh, falling back into the deep cushion of your seat. “But right now, I’m just working my way up.”

Lando hums in acknowledgement of your struggle. Something tells you that he knows exactly what you mean. It feels so odd to be so comfortable with him, to know that you're being understood too. It scares you a little. Getting close is dangerous, you might end up getting burned.

“Wait!” You say as your eyes catch on a familiar sight. “Pull over here.”

The 24 hour grocery shop near your apartment has become your closest friend. On late nights, you sneak over and peruse the ice cream section. Tonight seems like the perfect occasion to stop by and grab a sweet treat. There’s nothing quite like an impromptu casual ice cream date.

Casual, right?

Casual.

Lando laughs to himself a little, but does what you ask, pulling into a parking space in front of the shop. You send him the sweetest smile you can muster up. He looks up and down your face, his lips slightly parted. The image of kissing those lips flashes across your mind but is gone in an instant. You can’t do that. You barely know him and would hate to give the wrong impression. Of course you’re attracted to him, but nothing can come of this. All this can be is a little bit of fun.

“Come on,” You urge, your hand falling on the door handle. You both exit the car and hurry inside the shop. Mindlessly, you grab Lando’s hand to lead him over to the aisle you’re desperately needing. But, in your hurry, you don’t miss the way he swallows hard when your fingers wrap around his. Having your hand again feels completely natural, as if the two of you had known each other for years.

Instead of dwelling on the deeper meanings of things or contemplating the intense energy between the two of you, you scour the ice cream shelves.

“Ice cream tells you a lot about someone.” You whisper to the man next to you, exaggerating your reverence to the frozen food section. Eyes flickering up to his, you’re pleased to find him looking at you. There’s a smirk pulling at a corner of his mouth.

“Really?” He coos sarcastically.

“Yeah, so just know I am judging you on what you choose.” You fire back. He smiles now, the apple of his cheeks and the slightest of dimples popping out. Shaking his head at you, he carefully approaches the freezer. He doesn’t drop your hand, however. Your interlocked fingers hang between the two of you while he contemplates his decision. Casting one last glance at you, he yanks the door open and snatched his choice.

Without being asked, he presents you with his selection. It’s peanut butter pecan. Bringing your free hand to your mouth, you try to stifle your laugh. He furrows his brow, looking terribly offended.

“This is objectively a great flavor.” He defends weakly.

“If you’re geriatric, then definitely.” You shoot back, your voice weak with suppressed laughter. He shakes his head at you, tucking his tongue into his cheek.

“Go on then.” He says while gesturing wildly with his ice cream in hand. Smiling widely, you take all but two seconds to pluck your favorite from the shelf. With no little amount of flair, you show him your far superior pick.

“Cookie dough? So basic.” He says incredulously, looking completely underwhelmed.

“I think you mean ‘classic.’” You correct, tilting your head to the side. Even when he’s perturbed, you can’t help but admire him. Somewhere along the way, he lost his tie and undid the top button of his dress shirt. His hair is messy now, unlike when you first saw him. He must have been running his hands through it. You wonder what it feels like to run your hands through his hair.

“I think not.” He scoffs, mimicking your head tilt. Rolling your eyes, you drop his hand to shove his shoulder playfully. You breeze past him towards the checkout. But before you turn the corner around the aisle you glance back at him.

“Come on, mister. We have to get you back to the retirement center before anyone notices.” You tease before finally slipping away. Laughing to yourself, you make your way to the only open checkout counter. The older gentlemen standing behind the counter watches you approach with kind eyes.

“Bonsoir, Anton,” You greet him with a smile before handing him your pint of ice cream. Anton works the night shift frequently, meaning you and him have become very well acquainted.

“Bonsoir, mon cher.” He says back in a soft voice. He scans your ice cream into the system just as Lando comes up right behind you. His chest presses into your shoulder as he leans forward to hand his ice cream to Anton. It occurs to you like a tidal wave that you never want him to move. Having him pressed against you feels like heaven on earth. It’s so right, so warm…

And then it’s gone. He backs up off of you and slides around to pay. Anton hands him the ice creams along with a couple of plastic spoons. Swallowing hard, you glance from Lando to Anton. From the corner of his eye, Anton watches you. You pop an eyebrow at him. He gives you a look that says not bad. Shaking your head at your friend, you can’t help but smile. Anton is right. Not bad, not bad at all.

“Au revoir,” You say with a wink.

“Se comporter,” Anton whispers. “Au revoir.”

Behave. Smiling wildly, you catch up with Lando who’s waiting at the end of the counter. He hands you your ice cream and spoon, which you take gratefully.

Exiting the shop together, you stand basking in the glow of the shop’s lights that stream through the windows. You peel the lid from your ice cream and open up the package to the plastic spoon before shoving a bite into your mouth. When the cold snack hits your tongue, it sends a chill through you along with a fabulous wave of flavor. Ice cream at night in December might not have been your most practical idea, but damn was it delicious.

“So, Lando,” You say once you’ve swallowed, bumping your shoulder against his. “What is it that you do?”

He’s in the middle of spooning a bite into his mouth when his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. The spoon hangs in his mouth for a second while he tries to formulate his answer. You can see the ‘you don’t know who I am’ look on his face and hope desperately that he doesn’t voice those thoughts aloud. Of course you do know who he is, but you still want to hear him tell you.

“I’m a driver.” He says vaguely, his eyes falling back to his ice cream. Pressing your lips into a line to refrain from smiling, you loop your arm into his. You begin walking down the street, lugging him after you. He doesn’t complain, but simply follows your actions, striding alongside you.

“What does a driver do?” You pry, wanting to get a real answer out of him.

“Drives,” He smirks. Rolling your eyes, you have to admit you walked into that one.

“If you continue to be so vague with your answers, I’ll have to assume you’re a getaway driver. Are we talking full ‘Baby Driver’ here? Or more ‘Fast and the Furious?’ Just so you know, I’m not really a fan of career criminals–” You ramble and badger him verbally to get him to open up a little. Sometimes all you need to do to get answers is just annoy someone.

“I’m not a criminal!” He interjects, a little dumbfounded at your verbose display.

“Would a free criminal admit to being a criminal?” You ponder aloud before shoving another bite into your mouth. His eyes are on you. You pin him with a quizzical look to further your point. He shakes his head and pops another bite of ice cream into his mouth while you continue to stroll down the street together.

“You’re–” He starts, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“Still waiting for an answer. Yes I am.” You say, finally looking up at him with serious eyes.

He gazes down at you softly, his lips drawn to the side as he bites the inside corner of his mouth. You can tell he’s slightly giddy about what he’s going to say to you. He’s gauging your reaction carefully. You flash him a small smile and wide eyes.

“I’m a Formula One driver for McLaren.” He says casually then waits for your response. Honestly, you’re sort of surprised that he didn’t lead with this the entire night. His cockiness is clear, but that’s sort of to be expected when you are one of only 20 people that do what you do. It’s not an excuse or a free pass for arrogance, but it makes sense. You’ve entered the part of the night where you’re going to expose his true colors.

“Oh, that’s cool.” You say equally as casually, downplaying the massive deal that he is. It’s not like you aren’t impressed with him, because you are. But there’s a game to play here and rules to follow. He blinks rapidly as his plan starts to fall to pieces in front of him. It’s borderline hilarious to watch his bravado splinter. He flounders slightly, scrambling to pick up the pieces of his failed move.

“That usually works, right? Telling girls that you’re this international racing star?” You say, putting his failure in the limelight. Red flushes into his cheeks, only slightly noticeable as you pass under the warm glow of a streetlight. He catches on then, his nervousness and embarrassment fading slightly.

“Yeah,” He says, shame being conveyed in his monosyllabic answer. Slyly, you glance up at him, a smirk playing across your lips. It’s fun to make people squirm a little. It makes them realer, more human. A guy like this who spends his time in the public eye deserves to be unleashed into pure, unadulterated humanity every once in a while. Your incessant teasing allows him that freedom.

“Did you know?” He asks after a quick pause, his face pinched into a frown. Instead of answering, you look away and take another bite of ice cream. Scoffing, he stops walking. Slipping your arm out of his, you swing around to stand in front of him. He’s glowering at you. It makes you laugh.

“I knew,” You admit while popping the lid back onto your ice cream. “My friend’s son is obsessed with you.”

He looks at you with wide eyes. You opt out of telling him that you’ve seen all of his races and post-race interviews from this past season. Maybe that’s why you feel like you know him so well. No other reason makes sense.

“Why did you harass me into telling you?” He asks while plucking your plastic spoon from your hand to dispose of in a nearby trash can.

“I don’t think I harassed you into anything. But, habit, I suppose.” You say while shrugging. It’s the best answer you can give him. You really did want to see the way he acted and get the real answers that you were searching for. There’s a lot to learn about someone in the way they talk about themselves. When he comes to stand in front of you, he has a crooked smile on his face. Relief washes over you when you see that he’s not actually upset.

“Journalists,” He huffs dramatically before flashing you a show-stopping grin. You bite your bottom lip as you gaze into his eyes. They’re bright and glittering in the night, a beacon of light in the darkness. You blink up at the man in front of you, feeling slightly dazed. He’s stepping closer, invading your space. It makes you go completely still. For all of his thinly veiled arrogance and annoying charm, you can’t help but feel drawn in by him. There’s a man inside of those defenses that you’re desperate to see.

But he isn’t a story to be hunted down and peeled apart, he’s a person.

It occurs to you then that this is highly dangerous. The feelings that have been stirring in you all night because of the man standing in front of you are the type that you always avoid. Growing connections and reaching out to people puts them at risk. There’s never a moment where you’re not thinking about leaving or what’s coming next. You can’t allow yourself to put people in the line of fire. It’s not that you don’t care about people; it’s about not allowing people to care for you. Once you run out of their lives, never to return, you’re the one responsible for their broken hearts if it goes too deep.

This situation with Lando is a prime example of the thing you’ve always feared. You can tell that Lando is starting to care. He cares about how you see him; he cares about the way your hand fits in his; he cares about the way you smile at him. It crushes you. In a world where this should make you over the moon, you feel six feet under. Tonight is a one night thing. It has to be. It’s the only way to keep you both safe.

So, you do what you do best. You run.

“It’s getting pretty late,” You say, taking a step back for safety. It physically pains you to say the words out loud, knowing they’re a prerequisite to an unavoidable goodbye. You have to remind yourself that a little bit of pain now is worth it to spare everyone from a heartbreak.

Lando is taken aback by your sudden shift in mood. It’s understandable. Just seconds ago, he was moving in after spending a lovely time with you. Now he’s being rejected. When a small flash of hurt paints his features, you want to wrap him up in your arms and explain to him why you’re doing this. But you know that he’ll just question and fight you. So you don’t explain yourself, you just let him work through his emotions alone.

Alone.

The word echoes through your mind as Lando just nods. Without another word, you both turn back the way you came to return to his car. Suddenly, the chill of the winter night that you had avoided with banter and affection, seeps in. It reaches its icy hands around your heart and squeezes. Even though you’re standing right next to Lando, you feel utterly alone. It hurts for now, but you know you’ll find comfort in the familiar feeling once again. You always do.

Lando drives you the rest of the way home. There are few words that pass between you and not one smile. You have to fight yourself not to crack a joke or tell him that you don’t really want to go home. You wish that you could stay out with him all night, talking and laughing and smiling. But you can’t. Some dreams are meant to stay dreams, wishes meant to stay wishes.

When he pulls up to your building, he tosses the car into park. It surprises you a little when he turns to you fully. His eyes are narrowed and searching. You know exactly what’s coming.

“So this is it?” He asks firmly, demanding an answer. Everything inside of you rebels against the end. You struggle to confirm the worst, the words choking you. It’s been a long time since a goodbye was this hard. You’d let it get too far this time and there’s no one to blame but yourself.

“This is it.” You say, nodding your head and dropping his gaze. Nervously, your fingers fidget with the lip of your ice cream lid. There’s a few moments of silence that solidify your point. It’s not a choice; it’s a necessity. He’ll understand that in time and so will you.

Not being able to take another second of sitting in his presence for fear you might go back on your own decision, you grab your bag and push the door open. As you stand and sling your bag over your shoulders, you watch as he watches you.

“Goodbye, Lando Norris.” You find yourself saying. Goodbyes are your specialty, so why does this one feel so unnatural? You can’t help but feel like you’re a fate from the ancient Greek myths, cutting off your own thread of destiny.

“Goodbye,” He says, the shears of fate coming to a close along the tie that connected the two of you.

You shut the door and turn your back on the car. Every single step away feels like a hike up a mountain. A personal sort of gravity tries to yank you back towards him. It would be so easy to fall into his arms, into a kiss that you’ve been dreaming about since you first laid eyes on him.

Instead of giving into ease, you cast one last look over your shoulder before hiking the rest of the way to your apartment.

The eternal feeling of never again settles into your bones.

—

Sitting at your desk, you lean your cheek against your fist. It’s Monday and you’re, unfortunately, sitting in your office at work. Today’s agenda consists of going through the thousands of photos you took at the charity gala. The part you aren’t so in love with about being a photographer is having to go through the tedious work of selecting the best few photos out of a massive sum. It’s monotonous and tiresome after a few hours and you still have a few hundred more to just look through before you even start editing.

Sighing loudly, you toss yourself back in your chair. You’ve been sitting here for too long and you’re starting to get antsy. You need a change of pace.

With your laptop in hand, you waltz into the break room to grab a snack before walking yourself to the stairs. Swift steps carry you all the way up to the roof. Some fresh air sounds like exactly what you need. You wedge the door stop between the frame and the door before carefully propping it open just a crack. Getting locked out would be highly embarrassing.

It’s an unusually nice day for late December, the sun poking out through the clouds and the wind nothing but a small breeze. You beeline for the spot on the edge of the roof that connects to the stairway building. It blocks the wind and gives you a great view of the city.

You sit on the edge of the roof, leaning back against the brick wall that encloses the stairway. Your legs dangle freely over the side of the building while your eyes slip over the Monaco skyline. It’s late in the day and the streets are starting to fill with post-work day traffic. Closing your eyes, you listen to the loud hum of city life.

After a few moments of indulging yourself, you crack open your eyes to begin working again. Firing up your laptop, you resume searching through your photos. But, something in the top corner of your screen makes you stop your scrolling. It’s a little blue folder that you’d made earlier today. On a whim, you collected all the photos that you took of Lando and put them into a folder. A few were actually really great shots that might end up being used in the gala piece. Others that you took weren’t anything special to an outsider.

But, to you, they meant more.

Your heart still carries the dull ache of your night spent together. His smile and laugh still float across your memory. Frequently, you think of him, of his touch. Every part of it was so slight, but it felt perfect. Small moments coalesce into a memory that won’t be soon forgotten. It’s not let you stop thinking about him, constantly opening up the “LN” folder you now have saved on your laptop just to relive it. You find yourself again daring to wonder if this would be the first and last time you would see him. It’s completely out of character for you. Everything about him and this situation is unnerving.

Part of you is unable to let go of him as you have done with everything else in your life. Staring at the photos of Lando, your mind starts to formulate a plan. Jokingly, he asked you to send him that photo that you took from behind him. There are several photos, but your personal favorite is when he started to turn towards you. His profile was captured, exhibiting his nose and lips perfectly. His neck is strained, causing his muscles to pop. And his hands, his gorgeous hands are tucked so neatly behind his back and clutching that champagne glass so perfectly that you can’t not admire them.

Tossing your other work to the back burner for a minute, you open up your editing application and go to work fixing up a couple of things on the photo. When you’re finished, it’s a glorious black and white picture that makes him glow like a sunspot. Appreciating your own handiwork, you save the photo under a new name into the same folder.

Without a second thought, you pull out your phone and scroll through your contacts before finding the right one. Your call to the PR department is answered within seconds. One of the girls you know who works answers and introduces herself. You greet her warmly before getting down to business.

“I need the address of one of our PR recipients.” You say into the receiver.

“Sure,” She says happily, the small noise of a clicking keyboard can be faintly heard in the background. “What’s this for?”

“I had a request for a print to be mailed to him.” You tell her a half truth, not wanting to get in trouble with anyone. “I told him that I’d take care of it myself. You know how these guys can be.”

You hear her mumble in agreement. People who personally request specific prints from us can be quite picky about how things are handled. You know this little bluff will help you streamline the process of getting Lando’s address.

“What’s the name?” She says.

“Lando Norris,” You hum to her sweetly, not wanting to jeopardize your mission. The other end falls silent while she goes about looking him up. Your breathing is uneven and slightly nervous. It’s not your first time toeing the line, but bending the rules never fails to get your blood pumping. You love it.

“Found him! Emailing his info to you now.” She says in her sing-song voice. You fist bump the air in success.

“Thank you!” You say before ending the call. The email pops up on your laptop screen immediately. Wasting no time, you open up the application and favorite the email so it won’t get lost. Then you start to compose an email of your own. Scribbling down a few things and uploading the photo, you send it off into cyberspace.

Once more, you scroll your contacts until you find the name of a friend who works in printing. You ring him while chewing on your nails.

“Hello?” He answers, the whir of machines is loud enough to make you strain to hear him properly.

“Michael! Could you do me a favor? I have a guy I need to get a print to ASAP.” You chirp into your phone.

“What do you need?” He sighs, sounding far away and distracted.

Smiling to yourself, you give him the specs. You wanted a large canvas, matte print. Nothing too crazy, definitely doable on a tight schedule. He confirms what you need by repeating it back to you and then lets you know that he got your email.

“Pick it up tomorrow.” He says shortly before hanging the phone up. You make a mental note to pick up an extra coffee for Michael tomorrow as a thank you.

Happily, you go about finishing your work for the day. You can hardly wait to return to work tomorrow to get your gift sent off to Lando. He’s an international address, so the sooner the better.

You’re a little unsure if this is a good idea. Reaching out to him this way is dangerous. It opens doors that you’ve already shut tight. There’s no closure to be had because everything is already done. There’s no point in exploring this any further because there’s no future here. The only future you have interest in is where you’re going next.

But, there’s still this pull to make contact again, even in just a small way. It doesn’t mean anything. At least you have to keep telling yourself that until you believe it.

When you finally feel like you’ve hit a good place to pause for the night, the sun has already set and the cool winter night has wrapped up the city in front of you. Sighing, you take a minute to enjoy the brisk chill of the season. Part of you wishes for snow, but the more rational part of you is glad for clear roads.

The trip down the stairs and to your desk is quiet. The office has been all but deserted, leaving only you and a couple night-owls waiting to call it a night. You make your way to your cubicle, ready to get out of this place for today. Slipping your laptop into your bag, you check over your desk to make sure you have everything. Right before you leave, you scribble on a sticky note to remind yourself to pick up Lando’s print in the morning. It seems useless though because you don’t think that you would ever forget. Once you have it pasted on the corner of your monitor, you turn tail and leave the office in the dust.

Bursting out into the cool Monaco night, you can’t help but feel a little more alive when you escape the office. A deep breath fills your lungs as you make your way over to your bike. It’s the last one in the stand. You unlock it swiftly, mount it, and head off towards your apartment.

The streets of your city are starting to fill once more. Nightlife in Monaco is stretching its arms and blinking its tired eyes. From afar, you watch the expensive cars and people line the streets. There’s no better place to people watch. As you fly by on your bike, you catch only the sped up version. It reminds you of your night with Lando. At this point, everything reminds you of the short time you spent together. Your heart aches to return to that night, to feel the warmth you’ve been missing since you left him in his car in front of your apartment.

It pains you to stop at the grocery store that you and Lando visited, but you need something to eat. This has become somewhat of a nightly ritual, grabbing food on your way home from work. It’s like a tiny adventure to end your day. But since this place is now tainted with the memory of Lando, it feels less joyful and a lot more melancholy.

Grabbing some supplies for a sandwich and your favorite drink, you decide that’s sufficient for tonight’s meal. Just as you’re about to pay the cashier, which you’re infinitely glad isn’t Anton, something across the shop catches your eye. It’s a small kiosk of brightly colored cards. They’re postcards. They must have just put them out because you haven’t seen them yet. A small smile breaks across your face as you ask the cashier to give you another minute.

Postcards have always been a little obsession of yours. When you bounced around from place to place as a kid, you would always grab a postcard from wherever you ended up. There’s something comforting about carrying a little piece of everywhere you’ve been with you. You left lingering pieces of yourself in those places, so it seems only right for you to return the favor. The symbolism is painfully applicable to you and Lando. There’s a piece of you that will always live for him.

Carefully, you select two postcards before rushing back to pay for all of your things.

With revitalized fervor, you bike the rest of the way home. You tie up your bike and bound into your apartment building. Once you enter your apartment, you carelessly sling your backpack onto a chair while plopping the grocery bag onto the counter. You snag a pen from the side pocket of your bag and fish out the postcard you specifically chose for Lando from the grocery sack.

With a small smile on your face in spite of yourself, you write him a brief note on the back of the card. As your pen glides across the surface, your plan lurches into action.

Little do you know just how far this game will go.

—

Lando leans against the door of his apartment with his eyes closed. He’s finally returned to Woking after a much needed holiday to some remote island in the middle of nowhere. As much as he loves to vacation (and trust that he really loves vacation, all the girls and parties and days laid out on the beach), he’s glad to be home. He was distracted the entire time he was away, and not in the way he intended. His thoughts were focused on something that was gone and lost: you. No matter what he tried, he just couldn’t shake the memory of you. There was something there, something worth pursuing. But you had said goodbye in a way that made it clear he would never see you again.

His head throbs as a tension headache spreads through his temples.

Plopping his bag down in the foyer, he promises himself to take care of it later. Right now, he just needs to find his lovely bed. His eyes search around his apartment in awe, wondering if it has ever felt this good to be home again. Maybe he can find real solace here.

He stops looking around when his eyes land on an oddly shaped package. The logo on it is familiar. Remembering suddenly that it’s the publication that hosted the gala a few weeks ago, he grows hopeful. Maybe it’s from you.

Memories from that night flash into his mind for the thousandth time. The first time he saw you, drawing your camera down from your face after sneaking pictures of him, he knew that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman. He was even more impressed by the fact that you weren’t mortified that he’d caught and teased you about photographing him. Instead, you teased him right back. It made his heart race. You made his heart race. Every part of you was perfect to him–the way you laughed and smiled, the way you looked in that dress that hugged your body just right. He loved the way you spoke. You were unafraid in a way that he’d never seen. Attractive doesn’t even begin to describe you. You were all encompassing, a force of nature that he was in awe of. Meeting you was one of the best and worst moments of his life.

Embarrassment crashes down over him. After spending time together, you had said goodbye in a way that was so final. There would be no reason for you to reach out to him by sending a package. His hope extinguishes.

Striding over to the package anyway, he scoops it up to bring it into the kitchen. He cuts through the packing tape carefully before prying the cardboard open. When it falls away, he’s met with something large and wrapped in protective paper. There’s a card taped to the wrapping, his name etched onto the front. With gentle fingers, he peels it off and tears open the envelope. The postcard that he pulls out is a photo of large white ships on stunning blue water with “Monaco” written in orange. The orange is a near perfect match to the papaya of McLaren. Flipping the postcard over, he takes in the minimal writing scribed onto the card.

Heard you’re a big fan of an ass pic. Hope you enjoy.

Your name is written next to the short message with a couple of decorative little hearts. Lando’s face lights up as he reads over the words again and again. You sent him this. His thumb traces over your name before he whispers it aloud to only himself. Desperately, he wishes to see you again. There’s a deep ache in his chest that hasn’t left since you said goodbye.

Setting the card down with care, he then begins to unwrap the gift. When he sees a stellar black and white photo of himself at the gala, he can’t help but grin. He’s turned away from the camera, his slender back on display. It must be one of the photos you took when you were joking with him about his ‘good side.’ The memory makes a flame flare up in his chest. He really hopes that you were checking him out when you snapped this particular shot. This is better than he could have ever hoped for. For a minute, he just admires the photo of himself. He looked good. You were one hell of a photographer. He didn’t realize something so simple could be so cool or done so well.

Setting the canvas down, he looks back and forth between the postcard and the photo. You’d set aside time to do this for him. The hope that he’d been trying to kill since he saw you glance over your shoulder at him before disappearing into your apartment building flares to life with fortified strength.

He’d been too afraid that night to make his feelings known and he’s been kicking himself for it ever since. A million and one ways of running after you have crossed his mind since that night. For all of his thinking and wishing, he hasn’t done anything about it. But you have. Maybe the goodbyes that passed between you weren’t as final as they once seemed. In this new light, he sees your shared farewells deteriorating. Doors once closed are starting to crack open. He’s determined to make the most of it.

He’s determined to get you.

[postcard #1]

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