#usually i would be. i love shipping everyone with each other
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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 days ago
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hello! i was wondering whether or not you can envision someone as better suited for tom/voldemort since i remember you saying neither harry nor hermione would be a match — them being the most popular two characters shipped with tom. and on that note, what do you think about bellatrix and voldemort? pro/against?
i tend to get a bit blindsided by the sheer obsession she has for him, honestly. i mean… i feel like she would be willing to shape herself down to the last atom to what appeals to him, if he ever were to show any true interest, and that’s very… sad.
Hello 👋
Thank you for the ask and as with all ship asks, ship what you ship, these are just my subjective opinions.
Now, what I said about Tomarrymort is that I don't think they would realistically get together and have a functioning relationship, I didn't say it wasn't fun. Like, I love Tomarrymort, but only if the relationship is a messy push and pull that makes everyone (both involved and uninvolved) miserable.
Now, as for Bellamort...
Do I think they had sex at some point in canon? Maybe. Like, that's not the most absurd thing about CC for me, so I consider it plausible.
Do I think Voldemort actually likes Bella romantically? Not really.
Do I think their relationship works like an actual equal functional relationship? Not one bit.
Do I think their relationship is entertaining and interesting? I mean, clearly, many people do, but I don't like Bellamort.
Like, it really doesn't interest me. There's a reason I only like Tomarrymort when there's a push and pull and Harry and Tom are portrayed as the equals they are. Like, I don't like Tomarrymort where Harry is completely submissive to Voldemort and Bellamort for the same reason — these aren't the kind of relationships that make Tom interesting.
I like both Tom and Bellatrix a lot as individuals, but I don't think a romantic and/or sexual relationship between them pushes their characters to interesting places. They are both stagnate in this relationship and, for me personally, that just doesn't interest me.
Like, Bellatrix is completely submissive to Voldemort nodding her head excitedly and panting after him: "Yes my lord! Whatever you say, my lord!" And this is not the type of dynamic that'd push either character towards growth. They don't push each other into a character arc, which is what I usually like my ships to do.
Additionally, this dynamic basically means Voldemort always gets what he wants, and Bellatrix is happy with it, as you said, she'd shape herself for his every whim. This isn't a relationship between equals. It's a relationship where she worships him and he doesn't respect her or care about her as a person. Like, at all.
The dynamic we see from them in the books gave me the impression Voldemort cares about Bellatrix. He doesn't want her to be hurt or to die:
Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes began to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed.
(DH)
But he cares about her like how you care about your favorite pet. He relished in giving her orders and having her submit completely:
“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer. “Master, you should know —” “Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?” “But Master — he is here — he is below —” Voldemort paid no attention.
(OotP)
He doesn't actually care about her being hurt if it's not too bad, he doesn't care about her feelings or apologies, especially not when Harry is right in front of him — his obsession, his one failure. Bellatrix takes a backseat, basically always. He doesn't care about her all that much. He cares and respects her like a loyal dog, not like a person he has a relationship with.
He also relished in humiliating and embarrassing her. He likes making fun of her in ways Bella clearly does not enjoy, which isn't something you'd do to someone you love:
“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And your, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.” There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks, a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant where that at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.
(DH)
she's desperate to please him, to tell him everything she thinks he wants to hear and she happily lets him treat her like fucking dirt. I don't find a relationship like that compelling, as I said, Voldemort would never change for Bellatrix and Bellatrix honestly deserves better than this. He even lets other Death Eaters jeer and laugh at her, this is not a romantic relationship.
Like even if he had sex with her, it was purely physical as he just doesn't care about her as a person like this. As more than a faithful servant (which he enjoys making fun of, as he does so for many of them).
And he is unwilling to show her real, unintentional weakness or ask her for help:
“My Lord, let me—” “I do not require assistance,” said Voldemort coldly, and though he could not see it, Harry pictured Bellatrix withdrawing a helpful hand.
(DH)
He does trust her with one of his Horcrux as the cup is kept in her vault and she seems to know what it is:
“Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!” She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. “If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed,” she muttered, more to herself than to the others. “The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . .”
(DH)
He trusts her loyalty, and she is one of his preferred Death Eaters (he doesn't hate her like he does Wormtail, Tom appreciates courage and loyalty, which are both traits Bellatrix possesses) but he clearly doesn't trust her with his backstory in the first war:
“Shut your mouth!” Bellatrix shrieked. “You dare speak his name with your unworthy lips, you dare besmirch it with your half-blood’s tongue, you dare —” “Did you know he’s a half-blood too?” said Harry recklessly. Hermione gave a little moan in his ear. “Voldemort? Yeah, his mother was a witch but his dad was a Muggle — or has he been telling you lot he’s pureblood?” “STUPEF —” “NO!” A jet of red light had shot from the end of Bellatrix Lestrange’s wand, but Malfoy had deflected it. His spell caused hers to hit the shelf a foot to the left of Harry and several of the glass orbs there shattered. [...] “He dared — he dares —” shrieked Bellatrix incoherently. “— He stands there — filthy half-blood —”
(OotP)
She doesn't really know who Voldemort is. She worships the persona of Voldemort. She loves his lies and masks. She doesn't actually know Tom Riddle. And I don't think she could accept and love the real Tom Riddle behind the title of Voldemort — the poor but brilliant nerdy half-blood who craves recognition. She would find him pathetic.
It's basically Hinny, isn't it?
She adores his persona and fame and what people think he is without actually knowing or understanding him. She changes her personality to fit what she thinks his girl needs to be because she is so focused on being with him. And He likes that she doesn't get in his way and lets him do and say whatever without crying about it but doesn't care about her or her feelings nearly as much as people think.
Bellamort is just Hinny with a different skin, and I never liked Hinny.
Like Hinny, they don't know or understand each other, and it's clear Bella and Ginny care about Voldemort and Harry more than the boys care about them. Like, yes, Harry would be devastated if Ginny died, but he'd get over it way faster than he did about Sirius. Same for Voldemort, he cares about Bella, but not as an equal he understands and cares for the feelings of. Voldemort got over Bella's death fairly quickly as well, he's way more focused on Harry.
So, with all of this, who do I think is the best pairing for Voldemort?
If we're talking about canon characters who are actually characters in the books? Then Harry is my top choice. Harry is the only one Voldemort would see as an equal and can actually push and change Voldemort as much as Voldemort changes him. There is no other character in canon, I believe, who would be able to do this to the level Harry could. Their dynamic is just so mutually obsessive and tense that a relationship like that can't not change both of them in a myriad of interesting ways.
Though, I was thinking about it, and Severus/Voldemort have potential. Voldemort clearly respects Sev and his opinions more than the average Death Eater:
Snape did not speak. “Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen.” “My Lord—”
(DH)
He cares about him and regrets having to kill him:
Harry saw Snape’s face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake’s fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. “I regret it,” said Voldemort coldly
(DH)
Voldy is willing to forgive Sev for things he'd kill most for. They have so much shared experience (poor, muggle childhood in incredibly abusive environments) that would allow them to understand each other. They probably both get frustrated over pureblood idiocy. Both are intelligent and share many interests, like they're both magic nerds who'd talk all night about magical theory...
So, I think, under the right circumstances, Severus is a pretty good pairing for Voldemort.
The only real downside is that depending on when they get together, they'd push each other to be more extremist and overall worse. Like, they'd push each other to have less empathy for other people if they get together, say, during the first war. Well, it might not be a downside. It really depends on how you look at it.
If they get together in the second war, it's different, and in my opinion, more compelling and interesting for both of them. Like, pairing them up after Voldemort's return and after Sev already turned traitor opens so many interesting avenues. I mean, Sev was someone Voldemort actually regretted killing, that was remorse there, wasn't it? It means Severus could push Voldemort to change in a way Bellatrix doesn't. Because Voldemort respects Snape in a way he doesn't respect Bella. I mean, think about how many times Voldemort shut Bella down when she kept insisting Snape is a traitor — it's clear he values Snape more than he values her.
If we're also looking at side characters we don't know as much about, then we have some more options.
@iamnmbr3 has convinced me that Alphard Black/Tom Riddle is an option, and I have been very compelled by it. We don't know much about Alphard, but that never really stopped me because what we do know is interesting.
We know he is Sirius' uncle. He was born after Walburga but before Cygnus, probably closer in age to Walburga. So, I headcanon he was born in 1927 and was in the same year as Tom Riddle.
We know Alphard was a Slytherin since Sirius mentions all his family was in Slytherin, which would include his uncle. And we know Alphard was burned off the family tapestry when he gave Sirius money when Sirius ran away from home.
This leaves us with a character, who's cunning, capable of listening to his older sister Walburga go off about whatever without making the fight worse but has a spine to stand up to her bullshit when it's actually important. This gives him the right characteristics to be able to wrangle a character arc out of a romance with a younger Tom Riddle (and perhaps the older one, too).
He's a pureblood who's open-minded enough to support Sirius and not hate muggleborns (probably). He likely has the subtlety necessary to fix Tom without Tom feeling like he's being fixed. Alphard, used to his very eventful family, is an expert in dealing with dramatic people (like his siblings) and how to undercut their drama instead of pushing them further into their position (which is what Harry would do, for example. Harry and Tom would keep pushing at each other while someone like Alphard would be able to just remove the heat from the argument and allow it to not get as extreme).
Again, it's not much to go on, but it has so much potential.
(Also, @iamnmbr3 has this post about how Voldemort’s violence became worse in 1979, which happens to be the same year Alphard Black died, and while I don't agree with all the points made there, I find it to be a super fun concept)
Voldemort/Lily also has potential. She's smart, stubborn, academically inclined, and has the right rough edges to have the kind of push-and-pull dynamic with Voldemort that I like with Tomarrymort. Lily is probably the kind of witch Voldemort could grow to respect as well. I don't think he would've agreed to spare her for Snape if he didn't respect both of them. JKR also said he tried to recruit James and Lily, so, he was aware that she was talented.
I think, though, Lily/Voldemort would be slightly better than Harry/Voldemort in some aspects. Lily isn't as hot-headed as Harry. Lily's anger is usually much colder, which I feel would work better with Tom just because she wouldn't push all his buttons (just most of them). She would still push him into a character arc, but it would be a gentler nudge than if Harry did it.
My only real rule when shipping Tommy Boy is that he can't be shipped with someone mediocre, he'll just steamroll over them completely, and that's not as fun, in my opinion. He needs a partner he can grow to respect and see as an equal (or close to it) and that has the spine to stand up to him, otherwise, he'd just keep getting what he wants, and I think that's the opposite of what Voldemort needs in a relationship.
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suroweczka · 1 day ago
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Love Potion (reader x Zoro)
Summary: You and Zoro share a quiet night out drinking, both secretly harbouring feelings for each other. That’s until you order a cocktail with a striking name, claiming to make people speak up about their feelings…
female reader in mind
I think it’s a fluff or something (??) Nothing not really explicit anyway. Might write a smut continuation in 50 years though because why not 😌💅🏻✨
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🍸🍹It was supposed to be just a night out as friends.
Everyone on the ship could see there was something more between you, but neither of you would admit that. Especially not Zoro — he could barely handle his feelings, let alone actually speak them out loud.
You picked up the menu, flipping through it casually until a certain drink caught your eye: Love Potion. The description boasted about making people spill their true feelings, claiming the cocktail had some "special" effect.
You snorted and nudged Zoro with your elbow. “Look at this,” you laughed. “A drink that makes you confess your feelings.”
Zoro’s expression twisted in amusement. “What a load of crap” he chuckled. “Any alcohol does that… If you’re a loser who doesn’t know how to drink. Which is clearly not me” He folded his arms, with a cocky smile on his face. “Oh, that’s indeed an achievement” you giggled.
“I’m tough. I don’t need to get wasted to talk about how I feel.”
You smiled at him. “They do look nice though, I think I will give it a go, would you like one too?”
“I don’t mind as long as it’s alcohol” he shrugged, leaning back with that confident, careless ease of his. That was classic Zoro; he would drink anything if it had a good kick. So, you ordered the so-called Love Potion, more as a joke than anything else.
When the drinks arrived, you took a cautious sip, but Zoro, in typical fashion, downed his in one go. 
“You didn’t mention it would be sweet” Zoro gave you a grimace of disgust.
“It’s called a Love Potion, what did you expect?” You laughed, shaking your head. 
As you were slowly sipping on your drink, you felt a subtle warmth start to spread through you, though Zoro’s reaction was even more surprising.
“Hey, (Y/N)…” He reached over, a strange glint in his eye as he locked onto you. “Did I ever tell you how pretty you are?”
You blinked, taken aback. “What? No, you haven’t…”
“I mean it,” he continued, his voice was clear. “When I first met you, it was your strength. You never backed down. Always threw yourself into the fight with no fear. Then I… started to notice other things.”
He leaned closer, his eyes wandering over your face and then down your body. “Like how hot you are” he murmured, his voice rough, almost reverent.
You blinked, caught off guard. “Where’s that coming from?”
“Just saying the truth, that’s all” he replied with a smirk.
But he wasn’t done. His hands, usually so steady with his swords, rested on your shoulders, and he was suddenly right there, his lips grazing your neck in a way that made your whole body shiver. His breath was warm, his mouth soft yet unrelenting, as he kissed down the side of your neck.
"Strong and pretty, what’s more to wish for?" he whispered to your ear, giving you chills. His hand brushing along your arm in a way that sent sparks through you. "Your courage… it’s one of the first things I noticed. But it’s more than that now" His voice grew husky. “I’d never been interested in any woman that way before.”
Your heart pounded, and the warmth from the drink seemed to blend with the heat of his words. Emboldened, you took a longer sip from your own glass, feeling that strange drink work its way through you until it gave you the courage to admit something you'd kept hidden for so long.
“When you took Luffy’s pain,” you began softly, “when you stood there after fighting Kuma without saying a word. I realised how far you’d go for Luffy, for all of us. I was in awe of your loyalty, strength… I was in awe of you, Zoro. I wanted to be someone who could stand by your side… and, I think I fell for you then.” Your words hung in the air, your face flushing with a mixture of nerves and adrenaline.
As you finished your drink, you reached out, pressing a hand to his chest. “And, I mean… have you looked at yourself?” you whispered, your voice carrying a flirtatious edge as you let your fingers slide along his defined muscles. “How could I not be into you?”
And without another word, he took your hand, pulling you toward the exit.
You never thought a drink could change everything—but in that moment, as you both tumbled onto his bed, you knew you wouldn’t be turning back.
And neither would he.
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lie-lacdreams · 2 days ago
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Thermodynamics and Turmoil (Curly x Reader pt. 1)
Hello! I'm putting out my very first piece ever and I'm so excited to feed the masses as much Mouthwashing content as they deserve :) This game has a lot of sensitive topics to it and as such I'll try my best to bring them up as appropriately as possible. The story is gonna start off slow and elaborative because I love all of the Tulpar crew so much (except for Jollof rice, Jimneva convention) and they all have such interesting personalities that I couldn't help but to explore their wants and aspirations. This story will feature an alternative ending to the game because I cannot stomach sad things they make me very sad </3
engineer! reader x curly TW: a bad word or two, I think word count ~ 1.9K
Curly was back in the medical bay for his routine psychological evaluation with Anya. With all of the questions answered and out of the way, the both of them were just chatting before he had to go back to the cockpit and finish up his duties for the afternoon.
“You’re all good to go, Captain. Seems like there isn’t much change from your answers like last time, as usual.” Anya let out a tired sigh. 
“That should be a good thing, given we’ve already been on this trip for almost two months now. We should all be used to the routine around here at this point. Has everybody else been adjusting alright?” Curly stood up from his chair, Anya following suit as they moved towards the door. 
“For the most part, everyone’s been well but I wish they would open up or take the assessment seriously. I mean, at least Daisuke has been making my job a little easier – he just talks and talks.” she mused. Curly gave a little chuckle in response, thinking about the last-minute intern that the Pony Express decided to add on board to their journey. He wasn’t exactly the most helpful – at least according to Swansea – but he brought an air of lightheartedness that they all needed in a cut-corners, shitty working environment like the Tulpar. “Oh, actually, have you seen (Y/N) lately?”
Curly thought for a moment. Along with Daisuke, (Y/N) was another late addition to the crew. The Tulpar has started showing its age and as such, there were increasingly consistent problems with the water pipes, life support, and fuel usage. However, instead of giving the crew a new ship, they handed the responsibility of keeping the ship up and running to the passengers. After their previous trip, Swansea went straight to the higher-ups and ripped them a new one, stating that “he couldn’t be expected to perform miracles”. When the crew was assigned this trip, they were all surprised that corporate had listened to Swansea’s complaints and granted them with another engineer. (Y/N) was self-sufficient, only really needing to work with Swansea to consult him on how best to move forward and with Daisuke when Swansea needed a break from his overzealousness. As a result, Curly saw and knew very little about her. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Why?”
“She’s due for her check-in as well but I haven’t seen her these past two days to tell her that. Go figure. We share a room yet recently she’s been waking up earlier and sleeping later than I have. When I went to ask Swansea and Daisuke if they’d seen her, they said that they haven’t seen her at all today.” 
“Huh. She’ll show up eventually. This ship only has so many places a person can be. If I see her, I’ll let her know to go straight to you. Thanks, Anya.” He patted her shoulder lightly before heading out, making his way back to the cockpit to fulfill his duties. 
In the evening, the crew convened at the table for dinner. Curly always looked forward to this time of day, where everyone had finished all of their tasks and could open up with light hearted banter. With only the six of them on the ship for over a year, all they had were each other, and he cherished all of his crew members. Anya and Swansea were chatting to the left of him about Swansea’s kids back on Earth. To his right, he saw Jimmy get increasingly agitated as Daisuke tried convincing him to swap dinners with him. That’s when he spotted the empty chair across from him and realized that (Y/N) was still missing. 
No one was concerned by her absence; it was a common occurrence, and he trusted Daisuke and Swansea to be in the loop about what she was up to and would report to him if anything happened. During the work day, everyone was so consumed with their jobs and couldn’t afford to worry about the whereabouts of the others, unless they needed to lend a hand. Curly wasn’t an exception to this. As the captain it was his responsibility to make sure his crew members were okay and that things were moving along nicely, and so far there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary that indicated otherwise. With everyone finishing up their dinner, clean up began before people bid each other goodnight. 
In the middle of the night, he woke up parched. Debating whether or not to get a glass of water, he finally got out of bed and made his way to the lounge where the kitchen was. Leaving his room, he could hear a faint clacking noise grow slightly louder the closer he got to the lounge entrance. Opening the door to the lounge, he was finally met with the sixth crew member whom no one had seen all day. Sitting at the dining table, (Y/N) rested her feet on the seat of her chair and had her knees drawn up to her chest. All around her were books and loose papers scattered about. Her hair was messed up, likely a direct cause of the hand she kept on her head, fingernails digging into her scalp. Curly gently cleared his throat, trying to make her aware of his presence. Shooting a tired glance his way, her eyes widened a bit before immediately sitting up straight and tidying her hair. She looked guilty, like she was caught in the middle of doing something she wasn’t supposed to be doing. 
“Finally, we get to see her. Where have you been, Miss Absentee?” He sent a small smile her way, walking over to her.
“C-Captain! What are you doing up? It’s quite late.” (Y/N) nervously fidgeted.
“Just up for a glass of water. What are you doing up so late is the real question.” He crossed his arms. 
“Just doing a bit of work. Can’t get enough of it.” She joked dryly. Curly frowned and pulled the chair next to her to take a seat. She sighed and leaned back, finally relaxing from tensing up after seeing Curly enter the room. (Y/N) didn’t know her captain well, and as such she always tried her best to save face and remain professional with him, but at this hour of the night, she was too tired to keep up with decorum. 
He leaned on the table, facing her. “I know we may not be as close as you are with Swansea and Daisuke, or even Anya, but as your captain I care about how you’re doing and I want you to open up to me.” Her expression became hesitant as she shifted in her seat. “We’re all busy and even though it’s common for you to go missing during meal times, seeing you like this now is making me worried about how you’re doing.”
(Y/N) kept quiet for a second, looking like she was mulling something over before picking up the object right in front of her.  “Do you know what this is?” 
“An abacus. Interesting that you have one.” he said. 
“Yeah.” she sighed. She moved her gaze from Curly to the plastic Polle statue in the corner of the room. “Before I got on the Tulpar, they had given me all of the supplies I needed to fulfill my duties and do what they asked of me. I had met Swansea only briefly before so he could give me manuals and maps of the ship’s layout. I got the uniform, the steel-toed boots, notebooks, writing utensils, and a solar-powered calculator.” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’d think that would be enough to prepare me to be here, but no . If only there was a way to have a bit of sunlight in outer space in a ship with no windows. They gave me something so crucial but useless out here. I had brought the abacus on board with me for sentimental reasons, but ironically enough it’s the only thing here that allows me to do my job.” She glanced back at him. “I’m not sure if you were aware, but Pony Express lied and said this was an internship for graduate students. Little did I know I’d be thrown into something I wasn’t going to have much guidance in. I needed a break from my PhD and even though the pay wasn’t that great, I was desperate for some sort of escape from academia.  I thought going to space would give me that, but every day I wake up is a constant reminder that I’m so underqualified. Swansea is an expert with the mechanical side of the ship and he’s helped me a great deal, but the fluid mechanics and thermodynamics of it all are things he knows nothing about. So I’m here, trying my best to play catch-up and praying that I figure out a solution so that this ship has enough fuel, enough air to last us an entire year, and that the Tulpar doesn’t pop like a pressurized soda bottle while we’re out here.” 
“(Y/N)...” Curly’s voice died at her name, shocked at this revelation and disappointed he somehow didn’t know about her struggle sooner. “I had no idea what you were going through. You always seemed to have a grasp on your tasks and Swansea always praised the work you did, so I just assumed you weren’t having a hard time adjusting. Have you told any of this to Anya during your evaluations?”
“No… I really wanted to believe that I could do it and stick it out, and so far, thank God, I’ve just barely made it every time. I really wanted you and the rest of the crew to believe I was capable and worthy of being here.” He cautiously put a hand on her shoulder, testing the waters on how he should comfort her. 
“You are worthy of being here. The fact that we’ve been having such a smooth trip with no complications so far makes that obvious. I really appreciate you opening up to me now. I want to do everything I can to make sure you aren’t stressed about your work. You need to get rest and eat like the rest of us. Sure, none of us are a chemical engineering smarty pants like you, but you can always ask for help, even if it’s just for something like bringing you food or running errands around the ship.” He smiled at her, and she weakly reciprocated the gesture.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time. Thank you, Curly.” Too tired to remember formalities, (Y/N) let out a big yawn, much to his amusement. 
“So are you gonna go to bed?” He asked. She threw her head back and groaned in defeat, murmuring a “yes”. “Good! I hope I get to see more of you around now that you’ll be asking for help, yes?”
“Yes, of course, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow.” The both of them stood up, (Y/N) to head to her quarters and Curly to finally get his glass of water. Before completely leaving, she paused and turned back. “Oh, and Captain?” 
“Hmm?” He raised his head up to look at her again.
“I know you have a lot of responsibility on your shoulders looking after all of us. Please, rely on me too.” She smiled gently.
“Goodnight, (Y/N).” He called after her as she slipped through the door. He felt content that he was making good progress to gaining the trust of the crew member he knew the least. It always made him feel good to be the reliable captain he hoped everyone viewed him as. Having that conversation with (Y/N) made him a little more relaxed now that she had opened up to him for the first time.
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lesbians4armand · 4 months ago
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so funny as a multishipper when i encounter a ship i just. don’t like. like what is this.
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deus-ex-mona · 4 months ago
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such is the tale of a ✨chronically online hypocrite✨
#(please forgive this old folk’s rambling for a hot min bc i need to get this off my chest somehow and in some way)#tl;dr: come and get into the hw idol series!!! we have ship discourse; more ship discourse; even more ship discourse#(yes ik people should be free to ship what they do b u t claiming a noncanon ship as canon and forcing it on everyone else is. not cool.)#yes yes friday’s mv was visually cute and ino.rin’s singing was peak b u t i feel like it has caused more harm than good in some way???#i cant b e l i e v e the jp hwtwt beef over friday’s mv is still going on mannnnnnnnn#no less than 3 separate people have made posts along the lines of#‘p l s stop using [official tags] to post about *[unnamed] non-official ships* p l s there’s a time and place for everything’#and n o n e of them even remotely run in the same circles yet they’re all banded together against a *certain* group lmfao never change hwtwt#lhy (esp yhy) shippers are always at the scene of the crime mannnnnnn#i cant see anything on their end of the naval battle (has every single lhy tag+account that i could think of blocked)#b u t it’s still really funny to witness on my twtdash against my will. i think i need to touch grass#‘kyhn isn’t canon either so why do you like it while being such a hater towards lhy—‘#great question!!!!!! it’s bc (disregarding the movie) they actually interact really well together~~~ like the honeypre event y k—#and also bc yukki treats hina really nicely all the time (even when she was being tsun and literally running from her feelings for him)#a n d hina loved him for who he truly was; even before his image change arc. and she also does her best to appeal to him and such~~~~~~~#but lhy. uh. they just bully hiyo 95% of the time and while they do look out for her bc they’re pals#they’re just pals. guys. and lxl have gone ‘uwu it must be u uwu’ to each other one too many times so shoehorning hiyo between them would.#be pretty weird ngl? esp since the ‘widely accepted’ portrayal of lhy as a trio is p much just hiyo x 2 dudes who dont even like each other#and. like. a branch of such portrayals usually seem to have aizo waft away from the ‘r/s triad’ to date mona instead which is. very weird.#some people just pick and choose aizo and mona interactions dont they. all they see is the umbrella scene and go ‘ah yes. canon’#they dont even read further to see how mona doesn’t even use the umbrella after aizo leaves (clear rejection)#a n d how aizo doesn’t even remember giving the umbrella to mona + mona’s entire existence in general after that#and that’s not even counting the grudge mona refuses to let go of even after what looks to be literal months#so for certain shippers to just casually shoo aizo out of the hiyoharem and into mona’s unwilling arms for the sake of yhy is. weird.#and like. shouldn’t he and yujiro have a say in this?? they’re more interested in each other than hiyo so just how are they being commonly#portrayed as hiyosimps in fanon? im so confused… like. wouldn’t they be equally obsessed with each other (as w/ hiyo) if they were a rstrio?#aaaaaa get this off my twtdash plsssssssss pls see this post twtapp pls let this affect your dumb algorithm im tired of the ship discourseee#as funny as the ‘lhy vs the world’ naval warfare is it’s getting. um. very annoying!!!! and now im missing nagisa more than ever s o b s#plsplsplsplsplsplsplsplspls influence the algorithm ragepost; ik big brother is 👀watching👀 so do your thing—#(pls feel free to duke it out with me too if y’all read this i need my birdsite algorithm to le a r n that i dont wanna see stuff like this)
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nomairuins · 2 months ago
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also its so dumb that one of the arguments ppl have against a sims 5 is that theyve already invested too much money into 4. like yes its fucking scummy that ea charges so much for dlc and its Ludicrous the amt sims 4 costs if you have all the dlc and its going to keep getting more and more expensive but . to be honest . why are you paying for sims packs. im sry
#ik not everyone can pirate i get it and its your money do what you want#but itis your choice to invest so much into like. a sinking ship DJRNFJFNG. idk....#i want 2 be optimistic and believe that somehow they WILL be able to fix every single issue with ts4#but i honestly believe thats require them to take an extended break from releasing new packs and shit#and i genuinely honestly dont think theyll do that. lol.#but like. i think itd be a good idea like. Cut down on new releases and focus on fixing the base game and then pack refreshes#bc itd be rly cool to have like. pack refreshes to make them more fleshed out#but also like. sigh. it rly does come down to the packs bc i judt genuinely find it kind of disgusting how little is in each pack#and how many of the packs could be consolidated#genuinely earnestly feel like growing together and parenthood shouldve been one pack. like. and honestly throw hsy in there...#hsy could do with a refresh Badd ik its fairly new but oh my god the school is so fucking buggy#and in general like. IDK. id rly love the packs to be refreshed and id love love love More fucking lots in the worlds oh my god. multiple#worlds have literally 4 lots. Thats fucking actually insane it makes me crazy#i get like. ooh bc you can travel between worlds the worlds can be smaller but i hate it 😭😭😭#i think its just bc i grew up playing 3 perhaps but like. i rly loved like. idk when i choose to play in a sims world i want to play in tha#world. i dont want to have to like. i live in moonwood mills (5 lots .) and thej i have to go to like. san myshunonif i want to go to a bar#or whatever. is there a bar in san myshuno idr#IDKIDK. i feel like Innnn my opinion there should be like. at least 1 of the basegame lot types for every world maybe with some exceptions#and there should be enough empty slots ppl can fill it out more if they want...#but also like. idk. i suppose it wouldnt affect me much bc i usually stay on my home lot as much as possible#bc of the loading screens#it wouldnt be so bad if like. idk. i understand why they didnt wanna do open world like ts3#well i dont its fucking actually stupid. but i get that ts4 wasnt supposed to be what it is and it wasnt built to be a longrunning game.#hence why ts5 should happen instead as a Strong Foundation BUT WHATEVER but like. yk. and ik im not the only person in the world and other#ppl want different but i feel like maybe you could have options .. idk. im not a programmer#but itd be cool to have some sort of way to toggle between like. open world semi open world and closed world#where itd be like. ts3 style where the exteriors of everything r there but the interiors r loaded in when u visit (if that is how ts3 works#i may be a bit off) nd closed would be ts4 style Loading screen to go . next door#am i misremembering or are there even loading screens between like. the new apartments with forrent.... there were for the city living ones#skull Fuckk i ran out of space
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leatherbookmark · 1 year ago
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i love how passionate and emotional fic seongjoong is when irl they're like... an arranged marriage... lol
#not to say that they don't like each other or anything but. atz in particular seem quite aware (and not hiding it) of the practice of#ships -- not as in 'fans produce fanworks of you' but rather 'fans like your dynamics! play it up a little'#and the leader + the second 'highest' member are almost always shipped together as the 'mom' and 'dad'#which kind of doesn't make sense because a marriage usually precedes having children but in kpop is like. well here's a group and you're#two eldest members so you automatically get the mom/dad positions. sometimes it works -- whether automatically or because the#aforementioned members feel the need to take care of other members as they're the eldest -- but sometimes the dynamic is clearly#just there for the fans. and i can't help but notice that a whole bunch of 'moments' in 'seongjoong compilations' are like... not authentic#moments of them enjoying their time together but them being awkward/having awkward banter/doing fanservice during fanmeetings#and that's Different from the organic air ie woosan have#this is not to make fun of seongjoong fans because I PERSONALLY put very dramatic seongjoong in my hashtag Fic Verse#but then my fic verse was kickstarted because of that hwalazia magic and a single line in atz diary from fever 1. so it is. shall we say.#not particularly canon-inspired.#but i WOULD kill and die for every single fanfiction in which seongjoong aren't romantic sweethearts at the first sight but rather Struggle#i feel like Struggling is this... sort of a facet of their Brand... and so is mutually taking care of each other lol#they're like. this arranged marriage couple who grew to care about each other. not like 'oh shit two months in i realized i'm incredibly in#love with my spouse!' but 'yeah yknow what i like you here. stay'#good afternoon everyone enjoy this meandering and probably incorrect analysis of a relationship between two kpop lads#shrimp thoughts
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sunscall · 1 year ago
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there's a reason why my macdennis posts r all about domestic shit bc i like them in the same way i like loustat. toxic and evil and domestic husbands that ruin each other there's hate there's love and they can't rid the other they r OBSESSED etc etc. my charmac posts on the other hand r all like chaotic besties!!! cat <3 mac 4evrrrr which can be seen as me just liking their friendship but tbh what im rly aiming for is childhood friends to lovers here. i mean im mainly into charmac as friends more than im into macdennis as friends but. have u considered romantic charmac too can u pls consider romantic charmac pls pls pls
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letstrywritingmaybe · 1 year ago
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It’s 2023 when will the love triangle trope die *sigh
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winxanity-ii · 1 month ago
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FATHER, FORGIVE ME
ship: father charlie x fem!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 ( oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery ) word count: 4.1k a/n: ahhh….I just want to say I'm so thrilled with all the love and support for the mini Devotion series! It means the world to me to see you guys enjoying it as much as I do. And a huge thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday! I got drunk asf, and here's the rough draft I made while tipsy, lolol. Hope you all enjoy~ 😈✨..
★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★
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You wouldn't say you were a bad person.
Selfish? Maybe. Impulsive? Absolutely. But "bad" seemed a bit of a stretch.
It's just that, when you saw something you wanted, you didn't hesitate to take it—and, honestly, you had no regrets. Not until now, at least.
Sitting here, surrounded by the smell of old hymn books and dusty incense, listening to some wrinkly old man in a white robe drone on about salvation.
The whole thing was your mother's doing. She had this recurring phase, like clockwork, where she'd get bitten by the "Bible bug."
For a few weeks every year, she was the most devoted Catholic you'd ever seen. She'd call, text, guilt-trip—anything to get her kids back on the straight and narrow, even if just for a Sunday morning.
For the last seven years, you'd managed to dodge it. Moved out at eighteen and never looked back, leaving the duty of church attendance to your three other siblings.
Usually, someone would take one for the team and tag along with Mom until her enthusiasm fizzled out again. But this time, it seemed your luck had run dry—your sister had finally roped you in, and here you were, seven-year streak shattered.
You sighed deeply, eyes half-lidded as they flicked across the stained glass windows—all those saints staring down at you in judgment.
You couldn't help but think of all the things you could be doing right now. Sleeping, for one. Your bed sounded like heaven compared to the hard pew beneath you.
Or brunch with your friends—mimosas and laughter, not these monotone chants and the faint smell of mothballs.
Hell, you could've called Kevin over and gotten dicked down instead of dealing with this—
Your thoughts screeched to a halt, slamming against an unexpected sight.
The old priest, the one whose croaky voice was practically white noise at this point, stepped away from the pulpit. In his place was someone else—someone younger, someone whose presence commanded attention.
A man, tall, dark hair neatly combed back, with a crisp black cassock that hugged his broad shoulders just right. He moved with a sense of ease, like he belonged up there.
And damn, was he handsome. Handsome enough to pull your focus completely, which was a feat in itself given the circumstances.
Your eyes tracked him as he approached the podium, his voice replacing the rasping chant of the old priest. It was smooth, warm, resonant. Nothing like the man you remembered from years ago.
He spoke about community, faith, redemption—but all you could think was how someone like him ended up in a place like this.
You found yourself leaning forward, just slightly, as if drawn in by some invisible force. Your irritation melted away, replaced by a strange curiosity.
Maybe… maybe this wouldn't be the worst way to spend a Sunday after all.
The priest stood quietly at the altar, his figure framed by the soft light filtering through the stained glass windows. A faint scar traced its way down the right side of his forehead, a mark that spoke of some unknown hardship or past misadventure.
He was youthful but with the stillness of someone who’d seen enough to understand patience and humility.
With each breath, the man seemed grounded in his presence, shoulders relaxed but broad, the fabric of his robe resting comfortably against his chest.
His appearance was almost angelic, yet the subtle scar and the weight in his eyes hinted at something more complex beneath the surface—a man of God, perhaps, but one who had walked through fire to find his faith.
"Oh?" You raised an eyebrow in appreciation as you stared at the handsome man up there. You leaned over a bit to your mother, eyes never straying from his figure. "Ma, who's that? Is he new?" you whispered to your mother.
She looked up from her phone, Candy Crush flashing on her screen. You silenced the snort that wanted to come out. Looked like she might retire from church early this year, you thought to yourself, seeing her early signs of disengaging.
She glanced up at the front, giving a quick look before going back to her game. "That's Father Charlie Mayhew. He was brought in about two or three years ago, I think," she murmured absently, barely paying attention.
Father Charlie.
You watched as he spoke, his voice strong yet gentle, his eyes sweeping over the congregation with a genuine warmth. He wasn't like the old priest—this one seemed to genuinely care, as if each word held weight.
You wondered if that scar came from something dramatic, some story worth knowing. Your gaze lingered, taking in the slope of his shoulders, the way his lips moved with each word. Something about him felt... magnetic.
You found yourself sitting up straighter when the two of you made eye contact—he blinked, his words stumbling just slightly, a brief hitch in his otherwise smooth delivery. "I, uh... I apologize," he stuttered, looking off to the side, the tips of his ears turning pink.
You caught the way his eyes shifted nervously, almost as if he was trying to regain his footing. It was subtle, but you could see it—the way he tried to pull himself back together, to get through the rest of the sermon without any more disruptions.
He cleared his throat to continue, "As I was saying... uh, the importance of faith in our lives cannot be overstated. We must always strive to, um, to do what is right, even when it's difficult..." His voice trailed off slightly, but he managed to steady himself, his eyes avoiding yours as he focused on the rest of the congregation.
It made something stir in you, a mix of curiosity and amusement.
You bit down gently on your lower glossed lip, eyes trailing over his form, taking in every subtle detail. The way his hands gripped the edge of the podium, the faint flush creeping up his neck—it was all so telling.
He seemed innocent, reactive.
You smiled to yourself, letting your gaze linger as he continued, noting the way he seemed to avoid looking in your direction now, as if afraid that another glance might trip him up again.
Maybe you should pay a visit to Father Charlie—see if you could break that serene composure of his.
You could already imagine it—the way he might tense up under your touch, the way his voice might crack if you whispered something just a bit too forward.
The thought alone made your heart race, anticipation bubbling up inside you, like something in you just knew—he'd be fun to unravel.
You leaned back in your seat, a slow, satisfied smile playing on your lips. Oh, this was going to be fun.
The sermon ended with a quiet murmur of 'Amen' from the congregation, followed by the gentle shuffle of people rising from the pews.
You glanced around, watching as people slowly made their way to the exits, some stopping to chat while others lingered near the back of the church.
The old priest was nowhere to be seen, but Father Charlie remained, standing at the front as he spoke softly to a small group of parishioners.
Your mother, of course, made a beeline for him. You heard her voice carrying over the hushed conversations, gushing about how moving today’s sermon was.
You rolled your eyes, unable to help yourself, and slowly rose to your feet, making your way over with an almost lazy stride.
As you approached, you could see your mother perk up, her eyes lighting up as she turned to you. "Oh, there she is! Father Charlie, this is my youngest, ____." She gestured towards you, her hand lightly resting on your arm to pull you closer. "You've met my other children over the years."
You could see the change in Father Charlie almost instantly. His posture shifted, his back straightening just a little more, his eyes rounding as they landed on you. He seemed almost like an eager puppy, his gaze bright and attentive.
He quickly pulled his eyes away, turning back to your mother with a polite smile as he nodded. "Yes, I remember," he said, his voice a touch softer. Then he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours as he gave you a gentle smile. "It's nice to finally meet you. I don't think I've seen you here before... ?"
Your mother gave a sort of laughing scoff, waving him off as she caught his attention again. She chuckled, shaking her head. "Oh, Father, the day she willingly comes to church without an incentive is the day the devil is welcomed back into Heaven's gates."
You kept your eyes on Father Charlie, a small smile tugging at your lips as you tilted your head slightly. "Maybe I just hadn't found a good enough reason to come before," you said, your gaze locked on his, your voice light but carrying a hint of something more.
His eyes widened just a little, and you watched as a faint blush spread across his cheeks, his lips parting slightly as he blinked, clearly caught off guard.
Before he could say anything, your mother’s name was called from behind. It was one of her church friends, and in an instant, she was off, waving a quick goodbye and leaving you standing there in front of Father Charlie.
You didn't waste a second, taking a daring step forward, your eyes fixed on him. "So..." you said, letting your gaze roam over him before meeting his eyes again. "You seem awfully young to be running a church like this. I have to say, I'm impressed."
He looked bashful, glancing down for a moment before looking back up at you. "Oh, well, thank you. I just... I do my best," he said, his voice soft, the pink on his cheeks deepening.
You smiled, tilting your head just slightly. "Do you do one-on-one sessions, like other churches do?" you asked, your voice carrying a hint of mischief.
He blinked, clearly confused for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. "Oh, you mean confessionals?" He nodded quickly, his expression shifting back to something more serious. "Yes, I do. In fact, I was planning on doing confessionals later today, after the services. Not many people take me up on it, but I think it's important to always offer the option."
"Oh, really?" you said, letting your voice drop just a bit, your head tilting to the side as you watched him. You let a small smile curve your lips, your gaze never leaving his. "Well, you wouldn't mind if I came to see you and... confessed, would you, Father?"
He stuttered, his blush deepening as he quickly nodded. "N-No, of course not. You're more than welcome to come by, anytime," he said, his voice a bit shaky.
You smirked, giving him a nod. "Perfect," you said, your voice smooth, before turning on your heel and walking away, back towards where your mother was waiting.
You could feel his gaze on you the entire time, the weight of his eyes almost burning into your back. And you loved it.
This really was going to be fun.
The church grew quieter as the service officially ended, people slowly trickling out while you lingered, waiting for your moment.
Eventually, you made your way to the confessional booth, the small wooden space feeling cramped as you settled in. The air was close, the scent of polished wood and incense hanging heavy.
You could hear Father Charlie shuffling on the other side, the sound of the door closing behind him, the rustle of fabric as he got seated.
You took a breath, letting the silence stretch for a moment before you began. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned..." you said, your voice soft, but there was an edge to it that you couldn't quite hide.
There was a pause before you heard him clear his throat, his voice coming through the small screen that separated you. "The Lord is always ready to forgive. Please, tell me your sins, my child."
You sighed, leaning back slightly, your fingers brushing against the hem of your dress. "I fear I desire a man that is just out of my reach," you said, your voice carrying a hint of frustration. "It's wrong for me to want him... but I can't seem to help myself."
There was a moment of silence, and you could almost picture the look on his face—concerned, earnest, wanting to help. His voice was gentle as he responded. "Desire can be difficult to control, but it is not inherently sinful. It is what we choose to do with that desire that matters. You must pray for guidance, ask for strength... and remember that God understands our struggles."
You hummed softly, your eyes half-lidded as you listened to him, but your mind was drifting. His voice was soothing, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if things were different.
If there wasn't a screen between you.
If you could reach out, touch him, feel that innocence melt away under your fingers.
Your hand trailed down your side, your fingers brushing over your thigh as you let out a soft sigh.
His voice cut through your thoughts, sounding a bit uncertain. "Sister ____... are you alright? Do you hear me?"
You smiled to yourself, your mind made up. You leaned closer to the screen, your voice dropping to a near whisper. "Father," you began, your tone coy, "I must confess... I find it difficult to focus when you're speaking. You have such a... soothing voice."
His breath caught audibly, and you could almost hear the way he was struggling to gather himself. "W-What do you mean, sister?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly, laced with confusion.
"It makes me think... sinful thoughts."
You could hear the slight hitch in his breath, the rustle of fabric as he shifted. "S-sister," he stammered, clearly taken aback. "This... this is not appropriate."
You ignored his protest, your voice growing softer, more intimate. "You know, Father, I've always heard that confession is good for the soul. And right now... I think there's only one thing that could truly absolve me of these desires." You let the words hang in the air, knowing exactly what you were implying.
"Sister, this... this isn't..." His voice was shaky now, the uncertainty clear. "I don't think—"
"Come get me, Father," you whispered, your tone daring, challenging him. "You wouldn't leave me like this, would you?"
There was silence for a long moment, and then you heard it—the slow shuffling as he moved. The sound of his door opening, the soft creak of the confessional booth as he stepped out.
You pushed your own door open, stepping out into the dimly lit church. Father Charlie was standing there, his head downcast, his face flushed a deep red. He looked like he wanted to say something, but no words came out, his eyes flickering up to meet yours before darting away again.
You took a step towards him, your movements slow, deliberate—like a predator closing in on its prey. His breath hitched as you approached, his shoulders tensing. He cleared his throat, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sister, I... this isn't right. We shouldn't—"
You reached out, your fingers brushing against the front of his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. You let your hand slide down, your voice a low purr. "Father," you purred, your eyes locking onto his, "I want you to take me somewhere... push me to a higher calling, yeah?"
His eyes widened, the pupils dilating as he stared at you, his lips parting in shock. For a moment, he seemed frozen, and then, almost as if the word was pulled from him, he whispered, "Okay..."
His hand was trembling slightly as he reached for yours, and you let him lead you out of the main church area, his eyes flicking nervously around to make sure no one was watching. He led you down a dim hallway, stopping at a small door that opened into a cramped janitor's closet.
The second the door clicked shut behind you, you were on him.
You pushed him back against the wall, your lips crashing against his. He gasped, and you took advantage, licking into his mouth, tasting the hint of mint on his tongue as a low groan rumbled from your throat. His hands hesitated for a moment before resting on your waist, his touch light, unsure.
You deepened the kiss, feeling the way he shivered beneath your touch, your hands pushing up under his cassock, fingers skimming over the hard lines of his abdomen. His muscles tensed under your fingertips, a shudder running through him as he let out a shaky breath.
You pulled back, just enough to see his face in the low light, and he chased your lips, leaning forward as if he couldn't stand the sudden loss of contact.
You let out a dark chuckle, your hands coming up to cup his flushed cheeks, squeezing gently. His face was a deep shade of red, his eyes half-lidded, his breath coming in short, uneven pants. He looked almost dazed, completely overwhelmed, and it only made your smile widen.
Your thumb grazed over his plump bottom lip, pressing gently before dipping just inside his mouth. His eyes fluttered, his tongue flicking out hesitantly to brush against your thumb before retreating. You let out a soft sigh, a hint of a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Oh?" you murmured, raising an eyebrow, your gaze fixed on him.
Charlie swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto yours, his breathing ragged. You stepped closer, rising onto your tiptoes, your lips just barely grazing his as you spoke. "You did so well during the sermon, Father," you whispered, your voice low and dripping with suggestion. "It makes me wonder... what could such a blessed mouth do somewhere else?"
His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly, but he didn’t pull away. You gripped his shoulder, your fingers digging in just enough to make him shiver, and tugged him downwards. "On your knees," you said, your tone commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.
Slowly, almost as if in a trance, Charlie sank to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was filled with a mix of confusion, desire, and something almost like reverence, and it sent a thrill through you.
You watched as he knelt before you, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the part of him that knew this was wrong, that wanted to resist—but the desire was stronger, and he couldn't bring himself to stop.
You smiled, running your fingers through his hair, your touch surprisingly gentle. "That's it," you murmured, your voice softening just a fraction. "Such a good Father... doing exactly what you're told."
You took a step back, your eyes never leaving his as you moved to the nearest wall, leaning against it comfortably.
With slow, deliberate movements, your hands reached down, unzipping your mini skirt and letting it slide down your legs, pooling around your ankles. You made a show of it, your fingers tracing along your thighs, sliding over your hips, and letting out a soft sigh as you watched him.
Charlie's eyes widened, his gaze following every movement, his lips parted, his breath catching in his throat. The flush on his face deepened, his eyes locked onto you with something like awe, mingled with pure, unfiltered desire.
You smirked, lifting one hand and curling your fingers in a come-hither motion. He hesitated only for a moment before slowly beginning to crawl towards you, his eyes never breaking away from yours.
The sight sent a thrill through you, a shiver of excitement running up your spine. He reached you, his hands carefully coming up to rest on your legs, his touch light, almost reverent.
His fingers traced along your calves, moving upwards with a hesitant slowness that made you release a shaky sigh, your back arching slightly as his touch grew bolder.
His hands were trembling as they reached your hips, his fingers brushing against the edge of your underwear. He swallowed hard, his gaze flicking up to meet yours as if silently asking for permission.
You gave a small nod, and he let out a shaky breath, his fingers hooking into the waistband and slowly slipping your underwear down, his eyes fixed on you the entire time.
Once they were off, he shifted closer, his breath ghosting over your bare skin. He surprised you by gently lifting one of your legs, settling it over his shoulder as he pulled you closer, his face inches away from your most intimate parts.
He let out a deep, almost pornographic groan as he leaned in, taking a slow, deep breath, as if breathing you in. The sound sent a jolt through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.
Charlie looked up at you one more time, his eyes searching, as if asking for final permission.
You smiled, your fingers sliding through his hair before giving a gentle but firm scratch along his scalp, your silent approval. He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh before leaning in.
At first, his movements were hesitant, his tongue slipping out to give an experimental swipe. He was sloppy, uncoordinated, his lack of experience clear, but there was a determination in the way he moved, as if desperate to please.
You let out a soft hum, the sound encouraging him, and he grew a little more confident, his tongue pressing more firmly. He licked a long stripe up, his tongue swirling at the top, and you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips.
"That's it, Father," you murmured, your voice a soft purr. "You're doing such a good job."
The praise seemed to light something in him, a low groan vibrating against you as he pushed in closer. The sound made you gasp, your back arching slightly as the vibrations sent a rush of pleasure through you, your fingers tightening in his hair.
He grew bolder, his tongue delving deeper, slipping inside you as he began to eat you out like a man starved. He was messy, the wet sounds filling the small space, his lips and tongue moving with increasing fervor, as if the more he tasted, the more he craved.
He bullied his tongue into you, his nose brushing against you as he lost himself in the act, his hands gripping your hips tightly, holding you against him as he worked.
You bit down on your lower lip, trying to keep quiet, but the soft, wet sounds filled the small space, making it impossible to ignore.
Your hand moved up, your teeth sinking into the back of it as you stifled a moan, your thighs trembling as he continued. His tongue moved with determination, pressing deeper, swirling before retreating, then focusing on your most sensitive spot.
When his lips closed around your clit, giving a particularly hard suck, your vision blurred, and stars burst behind your eyelids. Your back arched, your body pressing against his face as the waves of pleasure rolled over you, your breath coming in ragged gasps.
Your thighs shook as you slowly came down, your body relaxing slightly against the wall. You let out a shaky breath, your fingers still tangled in his hair, tugging gently. You gave Charlie a small shove, pushing him back just enough.
He hesitated, his tongue giving one last languid lick, followed by a reluctant suck before he finally pulled away, his lips glistening, his breath coming in low, heavy pants. His bottom face was a mess, his eyes half-lidded, dazed as he looked up at you.
You leaned down, your fingers cupping the bottom of his face, your thumb brushing over his flushed cheek as you gave him a swift peck on the corner of his lips. He blinked, his eyes widening slightly, a blush deepening across his face.
Straightening up, you reached down, picking up your discarded thong, folding it neatly before slipping it into the pocket of his cassock. He stared at you, his lips parted, his breathing still uneven.
"Thank you, Father~" you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction. You watched as his blush deepened even more, his eyes darting away from yours. "You know," you continued, your tone teasing, "I might just have to come back for confession more often."
He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours, a mix of confusion and something darker swirling in them. You smiled, giving him a wink before turning on your heel, striding out of the closet, leaving him kneeling there, his breath still shaky, his face still flushed.
As you walked away, a satisfied smile playing on your lips, you couldn't help but think that maybe church wasn't going to be so bad after all.
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A/N: hehehe, dont mind me, just wanted to see charlie's and y/n relationship in reversal...
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sitepathos · 1 month ago
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From Gold to Mold
Chapter 7: The Realization
A/N: Thank you to everyone who’s enjoyed this series! When I had the idea for this, I had NO idea it was going to be as well loved as it’s become. I love and appreciate every like, follow, reblog, and ask!
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As Bruce walks down the staircase and steps foot on the foyer’s marble floor, he realizes that something’s wrong. Well, he’s known that something’s been wrong for four years now, but he’s attributed it to his pile of never-ending cases, particularly the murder of the Joker and Harley Quinn, which has been eating away at him ever since that night and has occupied every corner of his mind. It’s been four years since he discovered their remains and he’s still in the dark, the only piece of evidence he has is some strange substance reminiscent of mold found within Joker’s remains.
What he’s currently feeling, however? It’s not the need to solve a case that threatens his city. It’s as if something is wrong with the manor itself, like there’s something missing. Something that he’s never paid much attention before but has always known is there, and now that something’s wrong, he can’t help but rack his brain for what it could be.
As he tries to thinks, he walks to the kitchen to find a snack (something pre-made, Alfred’s permanently banned him from ever cooking in his kitchen ever again) when he hears voices. Three voices, to be precise, and they’re definitely amused by something. As he gets closer, he can make out what they’re saying.
“I can’t believe he of all people would have this,” Tim says, an obvious smile intertwined in his tone.
“Hey, we’re all free to do what we want in our spare time,” Dick responds. “And if anyone in this house has earned spare time, it’s Alfred.”
“I’m not saying he shouldn’t do stuff he likes on his time off,” Tim quickly counters. “I’m just saying that I never would’ve expected him to be into stuff like this.”
“For once, I agree with Drake,” Damian, the third voice, interjects. “Pennyworth is a man of refined taste. For him to indulge in this childish entertainment is entirely unexpected. Only mindless buffoons would subject themselves to this drivel.”
“Hey,” Time exclaims, offended. “I happen to enjoy this ‘childish entertainment.’”
“My point stands. Once again, you prove your inferiority and poor breeding, Drake.”
That’s when Bruce decides to step in before a fight can break out in the kitchen (again) and enters, all three of his sons, who are crowding around something on the kitchen island, turning to him.
“Hey, B,” Dick says with his usual smile adorning his face.
“Hey,” Tim adds, glaring at Damian.
“Hello, Father,” Damian says, not sparing a glance at Tim and a ghost of a smirk on his face.
“Hello, boys. Is something wrong? I heard something about Alfred.”
“No, we just learned something amazing,” Dick answers, practically buzzing with joy. “You’ll never guess what Alfred’s into!”
This certainly catches his attention. He’s known his faithful butler his entire life and likes to think he knows everything about the man who raised him after his parents were killed. To find something out about the man he didn’t know before is something that’s definitely worth his attention.
“What,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
The three of them part, revealing a laptop on the granite top. More specifically, it’s Alfred’s laptop. It’s strange enough that the man who takes the care of his kitchen as gospel would leave something like his laptop out in the open (especially since he’s always on their case about snooping on each other’s personal lives), but what really blows his mind is what’s on the screen: the menu for what appears to be a video game. It features what appears to be a derelict ship floating in space with soft music playing in the background and several options on the lower part and what he’s assuming is the title on the upper part: Salvage Rights.
“Alfred plays video games,” he asks, completely bewildered at the discovery.
“That’s what I said,” Tim exclaims. “I mean, I think it’s great if he wants to do that. I just didn’t expect him to be a gamer.”
“Don’t group Pennyworth in with your group of pathetic mouth breathers who don’t know what is fiction and what is reality.”
“So, what’s it about,” he asks, trying to stop a fight from breaking out in the kitchen that will net all of them in trouble.
“I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers, but from what I can tell you, it take place in the future after the sun imploded, forcing several fleets of ships to flee to a nearby star cluster, but only a few planets in the cluster can support human life naturally and several of them hold valuable resources, causing a war between three different factions to break out for control over the cluster,” his explains excitedly, making Bruce smile at the sight of his third son acting like a young man his age should. “You play the captain of a prospecting vessel that salvages derelict ships and during a salvage of a ship that dates back to before the sun imploding, you find something valuable that could determine who wins the war.”
“How absurd,” Damian mutters. “That story is utterly ridiculous. Whoever wrote it should be ashamed.”
“Who should be ashamed, Master Damian,” Alfred asks as he enters the kitchen.
“Whoever wrote the story for this absurd game you are apparently fond of,” his youngest son retorts.
“None of us thought you were into video games, Alfred,” Tim adds.
“I wouldn’t say that, Master Timothy, but I know its creator and I know he worked very hard to make the game you see before you. It makes me so happy that he finally achieved his goals and I want to do my part to support him. I hope he gets all the acclaim and recognition he rightfully deserves deserves.”
“Whoa, you know who he created Salvage Rights,” Tim asks, mesmerized. “Who?”
“It’s someone you all know: Master Y/N.”
Y/N? All of a sudden, he realizes a mistake he made earlier: Tim isn’t his third child, Y/N is. Wait, when was the last time he talked to his firstborn? Hell, when was the last time he talked to you? Wait, what do you even look like? How old are you?
This starts a cascade of realizations: he’s never celebrated your birthday. Or Christmas. Or even had a gala for you like all his children got to welcome them in his family.
“Y/N’s a video game developer,” Tim asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “I didn’t know that.”
“Well, that’s because none of you have ever had a conversation with the poor lad,” Alfred retorts, his look of disapproval returning. “I never knew it was possible to not say a single word to someone you’ve lived with for years, but you showed me such a thing was possible.”
Bruce looks to his sons and upon seeing their expressions, he knows that none of them have talked to you, either. This definitely doesn’t bode well for them. Or you.
“Well, we should go talk to him,” Dick pipes up, trying to stay upbeat, but he’s obviously upset at this realization. He moves to leave the kitchen. “Is he in his room?”
“His room isn’t in the family wing,” Alfred responds, stopping Dick’s stride.
That’s when Bruce realizes that he’s never seen you coming or going from any of the bedrooms in their part of the manor. If your room isn’t with theirs, where do you sleep?
“His room is on the other side of the manor,” Alfred says, as if he read Bruce’s mind.
And with that, he leaves the kitchen and all four of them follow the butler, their steps heavy and slow from guilt. Bruce’s guilt only grows as they walk through corridor after corridor, eventually replace clean and pristine for dirty and decrepit. With a manor as large as Wayne Manor, cleaning is a battle, requiring an army to maintain it, but with Alfred being the only one, Bruce told the man to leave the uninhabited wings alone and only clean them when they have guests, which Bruce tries to keep to a minimum as someone in his position in Gotham’s high society can get away with.
Have you been staying in this forgotten part for the manor ever since you came to live here? With only dust and pests for company?
After he talks to you, he intends on moving you to the bedroom next to his; it’s been empty for years and has been going to waste. When you move into that room, he’ll check on you everyday, waking you up himself and walking you down to the dining room for breakfast every morning.
“Why is his room so far from ours, Pennyworth,” Damian asks.
“Well, when he first moved in, none of the rooms in the family wing weren’t fit to be slept in,” Alfred explains. “By the time I prepared a room for him, Master Timothy came to live with us and Master Y/N said he could have that room. Every time I finally got a room prepared for him, Master Bruce had a new addition to the family. By the time you joined the family, he insisted he remained where he was.”
That stopped all further questions, leaving them to process the new information in silence.
“Here we are,” Alfred announces when they reach a door on the far side of the manor.
Bruce decides that he needs to be the one to talk to you first, so he knocks on the door.
“Y/N,” he says after knocking once. “Can I come in?”
That’s when Alfred opens the door and before Bruce can say anything, he looks inside to see not only you not in there, but your room’s the size of a broom closet compared to the rooms all of them enjoy. One thing he notices is that the room’s surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the wing it resides in; based off the lingering smell of cleaning products, Alfred must’ve cleaned it recently.
“What a hovel,” Damian remarks as they enter, looking around.
“Indeed,” Alfred responds. “This is a guest room we specifically use for guests who are unwanted.”
Those words hit Bruce harder than Bane ever could. When Damian first moved in, he complained that the size was “insufficient” and he needed more room; so, he had a perfectly good bedroom be added on to his room, doubling its size to accommodate his pets, weapons, art supplies, and whatever else he keeps in there, instead of going to you and leaving you to rot in a guest room they use for people that aren’t wanted here.
He looks over at the bed to see the painfully small mattress is definitely past its prime, worn out from years of use. The bed frame isn’t a better, either based on the fact it looks like it’ll break at any moment. He presses a hand on the mattress and winces when he feels the large indention and hears the loud squeaking.
Good god, how did you even sleep on this thing for a day let alone for years? Not only does it look uncomfortable, but it’s barely big enough to hold a child, let alone… whatever you are.
“It’s pretty empty in here,” Tim remarks as he examines the dresser. “Guess there’s not a lot of room for decorations.”
“While there were very little decorations in here while he was living here, he took almost everything with him when he left, Master Dick. Very little was left behind. He told me I could destroy everything he left behind, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away anything of his.”
Every second in here makes Bruce feel more horrible at how he’s treated his son. He needs to find you. Immediately.
“Where is he, Alfred,” Bruce asks, eager to find you and find some way to make amends.
“I’m afraid he doesn’t live in the manor anymore, Master Bruce. Master Y/N left us some time ago.”
Once again, Bruce feels like he’s been sucker punched in the gut, leaving him breathless. You moved out?
“When,” Dick asks, clearly upset.
“Four years ago. The night he graduated from Gotham Academy.”
“That’s when I graduated,” Tim realizes.
Bruce remembers that: four years ago on the night Tim was set to graduate, he and all of his children (well, all except you) were busy combing Gotham for Joker and Harley’s killer, listening in on countless criminals celebrating the Clown Prince of Crime’s demise.
Christ, he can remember that, but not his own son? He knew he wasn’t the best father in the world (despite the mug that says otherwise courtesy of Dick), but he had no idea he had failed one person so much. How much he failed his firstborn son.
“Wait,” Bruce spits out. “If he graduated and none of us were there, who was with him?”
Oh god, if Alfred says no one was with him, he actually cry in front of all of them. To know that his son had no one to celebrate his big night would drive him off the edge.
“I was, Master Bruce.” Hearing that makes him feel a bit better, but not enough to really do anything about the pit of guilt building in his stomach. The butler pulls out his phone and types on it before holding it up for them to see. “This is him walking with his classmates.”
He watches the video of you (fuck, you’re so much older than he remembers) wearing the traditional black and gold gown for all Gotham Academy graduates (he sees the usual black and gold cap has been decorated, but he can’t see from this angle), walking in line with your fellow classmates, all of them wearing caps and gowns.
That’s when he realizes that there’s no pictures of you anywhere in the manor. He instantly thinks of the last family portrait he had commissioned (around the time Damian moved in) hanging above the mantle in the living room, which has him sitting in an elegant white and gold trimmed cushioned chair in the center with a ten-year-old Damian on his right, Barbara in her wheelchair on his left, and behind him from left to right is Cass, Steph, Tim, Jason, Dick, and Alfred.
A family portrait that he treasures not including you. Right now, it feels like he can cry and throw up at the same time.
“Here’s him receiving his diploma,” Alfred says as he swipes right, displaying another video.
Sure enough, the video playing shows the headmaster calling your name (Gould, not Wayne), you walking to the man and receiving your diploma with your left hand and shaking the headmaster’s hand with your right, and walking back to your chair. Each new revelation about you makes the cavern of guilt he’s standing in even deeper; finding out that your last name isn’t his and must be your mother’s, telling the world that there’s no connection between you and him, even though half your DNA came from him.
“A staff member was taking pictures of the graduates as they shook hands with the headmaster and she was kind enough to send it to me,” Alfred says as he swipes again, revealing a picture of you and the headmaster.
He only needs a split second to commit your details to memory. H/c sticking out from your cap that he can tell you’ve decorated and e/c that must come from your mother. And that’s when he realizes that while the color is different, their shape matches his mother’s perfectly. And isn’t that just twisting the knife in his gut.
“And this picture was taken after the ceremony.”
That’s when he sees you as perfectly as he can, standing next to Alfred, who is at an event that he should’ve been at, not looking to arrest someone who killed the man who’s terrorized Gotham for two decades. Nothing happened that night, he should’ve taken the night off to see both of his sons graduate, cheering them on and hugging them after receiving their diplomas.
“Is he still in Gotham,” Damian asks, his voice even, but Bruce can tell his youngest son feels guilty, something he’s only expressed a handful of times during his stay here.
“No, Master Damian, I’m afraid Master Y/N went back home.”
“‘Home,’” Dick exclaims. “This is his home!”
On one hand, Bruce wants to agree with Dick, that the manor is the only place you should call “home,” but on the other hand, he knows that with the way they treated you, he would understand why you’d want to leave him. Leave all of them.
“I’m afraid he felt differently. He told me that he’d been looking forward to going back to the home he lived with his mother. Apparently, the lack of affection and attention from his so-called family made him plan to move back when he turned eighteen, but I was able to convince him to stay so he could graduate.”
It made sense. After being ignored for years, why would you stay when you could leave? Bruce knows this, but now, all he wants is for you to move back in so he can give you all the love you can handle. He wants to have inside jokes with you, to give you a shoulder to cry on when the world overwhelms you, to take you out on quality time with just you and him.
He wants to do all the things for you that he does for his other kids. Things that he should’ve been doing for you from day one. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his contacts only to find that you’re not only in his house, but you’re not even in his phone. He hasn’t had a single conversation with you in person, why would he think he’s had a conversation with you over text?
“Where is he now,” Bruce asks, his voice hollow and empty even to him.
Right now, all he wants is to learn where you are and try to find some way to make his transgressions up to you.
“I was led to believe Batman is the ‘world’s greatest detective,’” Alfred retorts, an eyebrow raised. “Are you unable to find your son on your own?” Bruce looks at him, making the butler sigh. “He moved back to his home in Goodsprings, Nevada.”
He didn’t even know where you came from before coming to live here. If there was an Olympic event for shitty fathers, Bruce would take home the gold in a landslide right now.
“Of course, you may have a golden opportunity to see him tomorrow night.” Alfred pulls his phone towards him, types something on it, and shows it to them again.
On the screen is a website for something called the Gamer’s Gala, a massive event held yearly where gamers go to see what new video games are planned to be released in the future and where game developers have an opportunity to win the “Golden Joystick,” a trophy given based off their game’s success during the year.
He scrolls through the website to find all the games up for awards and sees Salvage Rights by Gould Games in top contention for Indie Game of the year! He’s so excited to see you’ve found success in your passion and wants to see you walk on stage and accept the award, cementing your place as one of the greatest developers in the world.
According to the website, it’s being held in Metropolis this year due it being hosted completely by Lex Corp and that gets his blood boiling. No doubt this is some attempt to win public favor after yet another failed attempt to kill Superman and he thinks by doing this, people will forget all about whatever illegal activities he was up to his neck in. Had he known this sooner, he would’ve pulled the right to host the event out from under Lex’s feet, sparing no expense to ensure it was the biggest ceremony in the event’s history.
And of course, he’d invite you to stay at the manor the entire time, a room prepared just for you. Right next to his.
“The event is tomorrow night. I believe Batman can take one night off so Bruce Wayne can attend.” Alfred pulls something out from his pocket and holds it up to Bruce. “Master Y/N was kind enough to send me a ticket so I could be there for the biggest night of his life.”
Bruce takes the ticket and looks at it closer. According to the glossy golden ticket, it’s awarding the recipient special seating at a section of the hall reserved only for the friends, families, and special guests of candidates and offering them access to the Developer Lounge, a section of the convention center that only game developers and their guests can enter, where they can eat and drink all they want for free, all of it paid for by Lex Luthor.
When he gets back to the office, he plans on making that man’s life hell. It was bad enough that he somehow came in four years ago and undercut WE with products that he knows for certain were based off his company’s but he has no idea how Luthor was able to get his hands on classified technical specs, costing him and his company several contracts and millions in revenue for that fiscal year, but now, he’s gone and made the biggest night of his son’s life even better, something that he should’ve done.
This ticket is not way of witnessing the greatest moment in your life, but to try to repair his relationship with you.
“Why don’t we all go,” Dick pipes up, looking very uncomfortable. “We should all be there with for him. You know, as a family!”
“I agree with Greyson,” Damian adds. “We should all be there.”
“I’ll get us tickets,” Tim says as he pulls out his phone and begins to type on it.
“I think Master Bruce should go alone,” Alfred says, making all of them look at the butler. “This is a very delicate situation and if the entire family goes, it could make things worse. For now, allow your father to speak to your brother by himself.
The pained looks on his boys’ faces makes him feel even worse than he already does. He knows that they want to make up for how they treated you just like him, but right now, he’s not even sure how you’ll react seeing him, let alone the entire family.
He’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home so they can show you the love you deserved back then. And then, they’ll all be one happy family.
“Thanks, Alfred,” he says as he carefully tucks the ticket into his coat, treating it like a precious artifact and not a flimsy piece of paper. “I have to get ready.”
As he leaves, he makes a note to give the butler a pay rise. Not just for giving him the ticket meant for him, but for helping him realize his mistake and for being there for his son.
As he heads to his room to pack a bag, he makes arrangements to stay at a penthouse as the hotel connected to the convention center so he can get there quickly and hopefully get to talk to you before the award ceremony. He also purchases your game in order to have something to talk to you about, hoping you’ll be touched by him supporting your career as a developer (he’ll also carefully analyze the game to high heaven in hopes of learning more about you) and starts drafting plans for Alfred to prepare your new room, allowing the butler to buy anything and everything he thinks you’d like, from furniture to decorations.
He briefly thinks about calling Clark and asking him to monitor the convention hall for any trouble from Lex, but quickly decides against it. Y/N is his son and he’ll protect him with his own hands, not relying on the Kryptonian. If Lex tries any shit during the ceremony, he’ll pull every underhanded trick in the book to buy out Lex Corp only to raze it to the ground and salt the earth where it once stood.
Whatever it takes, he’ll see you accept the trophy you so rightly deserve and after that, he’ll talk to you fact to face and beg you to forgive him, take you into his arms and apologize for not being the father you needed him to be. And after that, he’ll bring you back to the manor, where you’ll stay in a room next to his, where him and your siblings will keep you company from day in to day out. And when he brings you home, he’ll commission another family portrait that’s large enough to take up an entire wall and has you in the center with all of them surrounding you.
At last, they’ll be the family you deserve. The family you should’ve had when you became a part of their family.
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sashaisready · 24 days ago
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Starting Over: Chapter 5 - Better
Mob!Bucky x Female Reader
Series Masterlist
When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.
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Hi! I'm sorry this took so long, work has been kicking my bum lately and I haven't had much writing time. But it's here - the final part! I hope you like it. Thanks to everyone who has reblogged/commented/engaged with this story - it means so much. Thank-you!!
💔
One week later…
You were cleaning tables when you glanced at the diner’s clock and realised it was almost 9am. Friday was here once again…
…Would he be in as usual?
It was raining heavily outside, throughout the early shift your regulars had rushed in and shaken the sogginess off their coats and umbrellas once they were safely over the threshold of the diner. You’d chatted with them, commiserating with them about ‘this damn weather’ and promising to warm them up with coffee and breakfast.
You’d spent your time off this last week popping into the hospital to see Lou. He was doing well, making progress, but the road to recovery was long. He needed to make major adjustments to his lifestyle and potentially engage in physical therapy as they think he’d also had a small stroke. He got his personal mail delivered to the diner and asked you to open it and keep him updated with anything pressing. The medical bills you’d seen were already dizzying and his insurance only covered part of it, but you couldn’t bother him what that just yet – he didn’t need the stress on top of everything else. You’d figure it out. You always did.
Lou had made you acting manager to pick up the slack while he was gone. You were pulling extra hours, working overtime to ensure the ship remained afloat while the captain remained on the shore. It was tough, but you couldn’t deny you loved the buzz of being in charge – of keeping everything moving.
You hadn’t seen Bucky since that night at the hospital. He’d insisted on driving you home after you’d said goodbye to Lou, ignoring your protests that the subway was perfectly fine…
“The subway, doll? Fuck no. Not on my watch”.
You’d rolled your eyes, knowing you didn’t have the energy to fight him after the evening you’d had. He knew it too. You’d merely sighed and hopped into the back of his SUV as you gave him your new address, giving a little wave to Clint who was driving.
The two of you sat in the back in silence for the entire journey, you watched the city flying past you from the window and it felt strange that the outside world was just continuing around you like normal while yours had almost collapsed.
The car rolled to a stop in front of your building, and you turned to Bucky. He seemed to be studying you carefully, concern drawn across his features. Even after all this time and distance, the beauty of his face still took your breath away at times.
“Thank-you…for the ride. For dinner. For showing up…all of it,” you said softly.
He nodded stoically, “always. Look…no matter what happens between us, I’ll always show up for you if you need me. Any time, any place. And Lou is going to be just fine, alright?”
Almost instinctively you found your hand sliding across the leather of the seat towards him. He looked down as your hand moved to find his. You clasped your fingers around his metal digits, the cool sensation against your skin was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. They in turn wrapped around yours and the two of you sat holding hands for a short while. You didn’t speak or look at each other, just both existing in the moment and concentrating on the feeling of your hands entwined. You paused, wanting to say more – but unable to quite find the words.
Eventually you couldn’t bear the strange tension in the air. You gently withdrew your hand and cleared your throat as you shuffled across the seat towards the door.
“Well, thanks again. And for the ride, too”.
“Anytime. Nice building…” he peered out of the window at your apartment block.
“Ah yeah, thanks,” you said proudly.
“You doing okay, living there?” he asked quizzically in his Brooklyn-lilt, his brows furrowed.
“Mm…I mean, it’s not as fancy as your place,” you chuckled, “it’s kinda cramped and small, but it’s cosy and warm. And it’s mine,” you told him with fondness.
He smiled, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes. “My place was yours too, you know”.
You chewed on your lip, you hadn’t intended it as a slight against him. “I-I know Buck…but…you know what I meant”.
He nodded reluctantly. “Yeah…that’s good. I’m pleased for you, really”. His nose crinkled as he looked at you fondly. It was a little mannerism of his that you’d missed.
You shared a small smile before getting out of the car and heading inside. You couldn’t quite bring yourself to look back at the car, a storm of emotions fighting to escape you. Your fatigue mixed with your anxieties about Lou, confusion about this sudden shift with Bucky now swelling. You could tell from the quiet behind you that the car hadn’t pulled away yet, no doubt waiting until you were safely off the street. You put your key in the door and quickly moved inside.
That was last week. You hadn’t spoken to him since, although you’d wondered if you should reach out. You thought he might’ve been in touch – a text, a call, but nothing. It was nice, he was leaving the ball in your court and not crowding you, respecting the boundaries you’d established. But part of you couldn’t shake the small sense of disappointment that lingered, too.
The fact was you couldn’t deny that something was stirring. Bucky, who you’d long written off and blacklisted for his betrayal, had started to be on your mind more and more. He had crept back into your brain.
You didn’t believe the old adage that time healed all wounds, but it had certainly helped. The space you’d had from him a year on from the incident had allowed you to find yourself again, the parts that you hadn’t realised you’d lost after diving headfirst into your relationship with Bucky. You still felt immense pain when you thought about what happened…but you also thought about how he had been true to his word. He hadn’t tried to force you back, not aggressively pursuing you or trying to talk you round. His weekly mornings at the diner had never felt pointed or manipulative. You believed that he was just happy to have you in his life, like he’d said. You’d since found your own place, started therapy and looked at your own issues, thrown yourself into work. Remembered who you were before you were ‘mob boss girlfriend’. You knew that what had happened with Bucky was not your fault, it wasn’t your job to reflect and change accordingly – that was all his. But still, having the space and time to work on yourself…it was refreshing. One small silver lining on this ugly, black cloud.
You’d also been on a few dates over the last few months. Nothing to write home about. A few nice guys, a few less than nice guys. Nothing had truly sparked for you; nobody had piqued your interest enough to want to really explore more than a few dinners or coffees. Maybe it was because of how things ended with Bucky, or you just hadn’t met someone right for you, or maybe you were just off dating altogether…But it wasn’t something you felt real enthusiasm for at this point. But that was okay. It had been fun to dip your toe back in the dating pool, and you weren’t averse to trying again when the moment was right, or you met the right person.
Unless of course, it was because someone else was on your mind.
Your slow burn friendship with Bucky had crept on you, taken you by surprise. The man who had once broken your heart now had a new place in your life. It was strange, but in some ways, you knew him better than you had when you were together. Despite your previous connection - your conversations had opened territory up you’d never covered together before, previously too caught up in passion and heat to dive as deeply as you had now.
And most importantly, he had shown up for you that night at the hospital, been there for you without you needing to ask. He had brought you dinner and stayed by your side without a word, because he knew you needed not to be alone – needed support. You were touched by his care for you, his willingness to clear his schedule for you at the drop of a hat. It meant a lot. It meant everything. He had intuited how you felt and acted immediately. He was there.
You didn’t know what it meant, if anything. Something had changed, the safe barrier of diner breakfast chats had been crossed. Part of you was panicking – no! Don’t let him get close, not again! Remember what he did! But another part of you had missed him deeply, longed to hold him again and wake up to him each morning. Your thoughts were a spiralling mass of contradictions and conflict, nothing made sense.
You weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what happened.
But could you try?
Roscoe snapped you out of your thoughts as he passed you the latest batch mail on his way by. You thanked him, flicking through the junk mail until your attention was caught by the hospital logo on one of the envelopes. You winced, tentatively ripping open the paper as you braced yourself for the latest bill.
You cursed under your breath as you unveiled the total figure, a stupid amount of money. You spiralled as it sank in, wondering if Lou would have to sell the diner in order to settle his debt. You knew he didn’t have anywhere near enough in his savings. You thought about all the jobs that could be at stake, including yours, and your heart ached most of all knowing that the restaurant was Lou’s baby. It would break him to give it up.
Maybe you could call them, sort out a payment plan…something?
You tried to calm yourself down, thinking about what your therapist would say about your immediate jump to the worst-case scenario. Relax. You can fix this. Remember your mindfulness exercises. Life would find a way.
The opening of the front door pulled you from your catastrophising. You glanced over, making eye contact with a rather damp Bucky as he entered the diner. He sighed, shaking the rain from his coat as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“A lovely morning…” he muttered, deadpan.
You smiled, stuffing the hospital bill into your apron pocket and going to grab the coffee jug, “Morning, Buck. Get a little wet?”
“A little,” he gruffed, slotting himself into his usual booth.
You chuckled as you filled up his mug.
“How’s Lou?” he asked, shaking the rain from his hair.
“He’s doing better, thanks for asking. They’ve got a whole treatment plan worked out for him - so that’s positive”.
“Good. Glad to hear. You over here running the show while he’s out?”
“Something like that,” you smiled, then shuffled on your feet as you realised you needed to talk to him. “Bucky, I-”
A loud clatter and exclamation from the kitchen cut you off, causing you both to look over at the disturbance. You sighed with exasperation.
“Ah. Duty calls…I’ll put your order in while I’m in there”.
You rushed off to sort out whatever mess waited for you in the kitchen as Bucky smiled playfully at your annoyance.
He noticed something had fallen out of your apron as you dashed off. A piece of paper. He leaned over to pick it off the floor for you in case you needed it. Before he realised it was private and had a chance to look away, his eyes were immediately drawn to the monstrous sum at the bottom of the page. Ah. He grimaced as he quickly put two and two together, folding the paper neatly and leaving it on the table. He took a sip of his coffee.
You appeared a little while later with his order, sighing heavily as you placed the plate in front of him.
“Sorry about that…Roscoe and Ron were fighting about if the bacon was too crispy, and some trays got caught up in the carnage. Never a dull moment around here…”
You suddenly noticed the paper on the table, your words trailing off as your eyes locked onto it. You snatched it away quickly, shoving it into your apron.
“That’s not…that’s-” you floundered, embarrassed for him to have seen it.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to snoop. You dropped it, so I picked it up and then realised what it was,” he explained softly.
“It’s fine. I’m dealing with it,” you shrugged, desperate to appear nonchalant.
“Sit down, doll”, he said sternly.
You scoffed, “Bucky…I’m busy running a restaurant here…”
He paused, looked up and bellowed across the diner, “Roscoe! Ron! Handle things while your boss takes a break!”
You rolled your eyes, turning to see Roscoe and Ron nodding furiously as they scattered and suddenly started working harder than you’d ever seen them. They had always been afraid of Bucky. You stifled a laugh.
“Problem solved, now sit,” he gestured.
You reluctantly sat down opposite him, “Bucky…”
“We’re gonna talk”.
“I don’t need-”
“No. Let’s do this”, he said sternly.
You folded your arms in front of you, fully aware that you resembled a petulant teenager but not caring enough to stop.
Bucky cleared his throat, taking a sip of his coffee before picking up the letter. “Now, I don’t want to overstep…but I can take care of this you know…”
You shook your head. “No. Thanks for the offer, but no,” you told him firmly.
“Alright. That’s fine. So, Lou has enough to cover it?” he asked, “all of it?”
You nodded a bit too quickly, “mmhmm”.
Bucky caught it immediately, your lie. You noticed the quirk of his brow and the subtle rubbing of his lips together. Damn him.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he sipped his coffee again and ate a few forkfuls of his meal, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and tilted his head quizzically. “Guess it’s all wrapped up, then”.
You nodded again in agreement, but knew he wasn’t done.
He took his time, casually taking a few more bites of his breakfast and sipping his coffee. You knew his relaxed demeanour was a careful façade…you had somehow found yourself at the centre of a famed Bucky Barnes interrogation.
You tried to appear relaxed, as if you had nothing more to add.
“Because…” he started.
Ugh.
“…because, if he didn’t have enough. That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”
“Mmm. It would. But it’s not…so…”
“Right”, he cut you off. “But if he didn’t – great eggs today by the way – if he didn’t, that would be putting this place at risk, right? All the staff here and their jobs. Your job?”
“Right,” you replied, your voice a little strained.
“And of course Lou himself…he loves this place. It’s his baby. I’m sure he’d be devastated if he had to give it up to pay his medical bills. Especially as the last thing he needs right now is more stress and financial worries on top of his ill health”. He paused again to eat, not even looking up.
You nodded; your eyes now slightly cloudy now.
“Yep…” you said meekly.
He looked up at you, his eyes intensely locked onto yours, gesturing towards you with the fork. He was in full swing now. The diner suddenly felt much hotter, you could feel tiny beads of sweat forming on your forehead and the back of your neck.
“And I hope it would be known, if that was the case of course, that my offer would have no strings attached. Because I could imagine someone might decline it out of pride, or concern that it would have conditions and that person would then be in some sort of debt to me…either financially or emotionally. And if that was the case, I’d want to reassure them that it would only be a friend looking out for a friend, helping because I want to, and I can, and God knows I should do something nice once in a while to even out my moral scales…”
The barrier broke and your tears finally escaped, the stress about Lou and this intimidating bill, and your confusion about how you felt for Bucky, all finally coming to the surface. You cupped your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed.
“I’m sorry, I just…I…”
Bucky moved like lightning, whipping around to your side of the booth as he swung in next to you.
“Hey…hey, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to be clear what my offer entailed; but I understand why you’d be reluctant to accept my help”.
He pulled a few napkins from the dispenser and tenderly wiped away your tears.
“It wouldn’t be a loan, doll, and you wouldn’t need to make nice with me to say thanks. You could call me an asshole and dump these eggs on my head, and I’d still pay in full with a smile. There’s no expectation here, no contract – legal or implied”.
You sniffed, looking up at him blearily, “you’d really do all that for me…but…why?”
He paused, then very delicately used his thumb to collect the tears forming at the side of your eye.
“You know why,” he said plainly.
Your heart panged, and you looked down at your hands in your lap, clutching at one of the now-soggy napkins he’d given you. You sniffed again as you regained your composure, suddenly feeling exposed in front of him. The two of you stared at one another for a few moments and you were so desperate to tell him everything, but you couldn’t form the words. You hoped he would elaborate and fill in that gap for you, but he didn’t.
He quietly got up, putting on his coat and placing some bills down on the table to cover his check. He leaned over and kissed you on the crown of your head, then used a finger to tilt your chin up to look at him.
“You don’t have to decide anything now,��� he told you as he looked into your eyes, “Think it over. I’ll be back here next week like always”.
He smiled at you, then disappeared out into the street. You heard the roaring of the rain outside as the diner door opened, the little bell above the frame chiming to announce his departure.
You missed him already.
You looked down at the hospital bill in your hands, the total at the bottom practically screaming from the page.
He’d hurt you so badly, you weren’t sure if you could ever fully forgive him for that fateful night. You understood it had been his insecurities, you understood he had lashed out after he thought his worst fears were realised – but that had only even explained his actions, not justified them.
Although…he’d always been there over the last year. Slow and steady, but he’d taken the time to rebuild his relationship with you platonically. He’d let you manage the pace, never tried to force anything more than you were willing to give him.
…and he’d been there for you.
He continued to be there for you.
It wasn’t about the money. He wasn’t trying to pay you off to win favour. He was just trying to be there for you, and this was something he had the power and resources to help you with.
He was your friend.
He loved you. He’d continued to love you…
“Are you back off break, boss?” Roscoe rudely interrupted your train of thought, “Ron said that the fryer-”
You were pulling off your apron before your brain could even catch up with your body.
“Nope,” you shot back, firing out of the booth at full speed as you tossed the apron at him on your way out, “a little longer…”
You left Roscoe gawping in your wake as you sailed through the front door. You yelped in shock as you stepped out into the downpour, you’d forgotten about the mini storm happening beyond the restaurant doors. It was so dark outside it looked more like early evening than the morning hours. You looked down at your immediately soaked uniform, your work shoes flooding as you traipsed through the puddles…
Focus!
You surveyed the street, your eyes catching a brief glimpse of the SUV turning the corner. The instantly recognisable JBB107 plates drawing your focus in the split second before they vanished.
And so you ran.
You sprinted after the SUV waving your arms, shouting for it to stop. A concerned elderly lady asked if you were okay but you sailed on by. You must’ve looked utterly insane.
You rounded the corner and rushed up behind the SUV as it slowed. The back door flew open, and Bucky suddenly appeared out of it, a look of horror on his face as the vehicle pulled over.
“Doll! Jesus Christ, what the- are you okay??” he shouted to you as you approached.
You didn’t answer, just flung yourself inside the car as you desperately tried to catch your breath. Bucky slid across the seat to give you room. The divider screen was up so you couldn’t see the driver. One less person to witness your mortifying display, at least.
“Fuck…you must be freezing,” he muttered as he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around your shoulders and leaning over to close the car door behind you.
You were, your teeth chattered. Your hair was wet and matted, your uniform soaked through.
“Bucky…” you said hoarsely as you dripped all over his plush car interior.
“What is it, doll?” he asked, his eyes wide and alarmed, “what’s going on??”
You couldn’t find the words so you acted purely on instinct, you cupped his face and kissed him. Kissed him hard. Kissed him longingly. He caught up quickly and kissed you back, his fingers tangled in your soaking hair. It was desperate, messy. Your teeth clashed and your cheeks bumped. It had been so long that you’d lost each other’s rhythm with this. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. You couldn’t have waited any longer.
He pulled away, gawping at you incredulously as he held your face in his hands.
“Doll…does this mean?”
“Let’s go slow,” you whispered, “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. The effort you’ve put into rebuilding us from the ground up…for being my friend…for never pushing me…for Lou…but I’m not sure I’m ready to jump into this headfirst…whatever this is…”
He nodded, “of course, anything you want”.
“I’m not sure if I can…fully forgive. But I want to try,” you told him softly as you pressed your forehead to his.
He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as he sighed. A sigh of long held tension, of relief.
“Thank-you for giving me a chance…I didn’t think you ever would again,” he admitted.
“Yeah…well neither did I,” you laughed,
“What changed your mind?”
“Well…. how you showed up for me with Lou has made me rethink a lot of things. Plus…the money”.
He laughed, “the money? Really? This whole time I just needed to pay you off?”
“No…”, You rolled your eyes, “it was more that you offered, but you didn’t force anything, and you made it clear it was no strings attached. It’s like…you want to help me, but you trust me to make my own decisions and don’t just try and fix it all for me, like you used to. I just…it made me realise how much I’ve missed you. But it’s gotta be different this time…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah…like…I want to stay in my apartment. And I want to keep my job,” you said firmly.
He nodded, “yeah. Of course”.
“Maybe I’d move back in with you one day…but I want my space”.
“Okay. You got it,”.
You smiled, “yeah?”
He smiled back at you, the smile that still made you weak at the knees. “Doll? If it means you’re by my side…Of course ‘yeah’. Anything you want. And I have some conditions too…”
“What?” you frowned. “This isn’t exactly a two-way negotiation, Buck…”
“Just…listen. They’re conditions for me. I promise I’m going to trust you entirely, and to communicate you with you properly – not let my emotions get the best of me. I’m a different man to who I was the last time we were together. I know how lucky I am to get this second chance with you. I’m not fucking it up. I'm gonna be...better”.
He spoke earnestly with such conviction that it was almost aggressive. You nodded gently, squeezing his hand. You believed him.
“Alright…well, let’s give it a shot, shall we?”
He grinned, “I can’t believe you’re here…”
“Me neither. But…I’m sorry I’m dripping rainwater all over your car”.
He shrugged. “Fuck the car”.
And then he kissed you again.
Maybe you did believe in happy endings.
THE END
There we have it! I hope you liked where it went. I know some of you didn't think she should ever forgive him and I understand, and I'm sorry if you're disappointed! But in my eyes he had shown her he was willing to change...and she wasn't trying to rush back into anything heavy. Thank you for reading!
If you liked this story, please consider supporting me with my Ko-Fi link 💐
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wife-of-all-dilfs · 1 year ago
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bioluminescence | b. blake
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summary: season one — you thought all bellamy blake wanted was sex and other women, but when you sneak outside of the camp walls at night, bioluminescent plants are not the only shocking discovery you make, and not everyone is happy about it.
warnings: fluff, swearing, jealousy, mention of sexual themes, (L/N) use, roma
pairing: bellamy blake x reader
word count: 4.1k
Sleep was a rare luxury after you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to Earth, especially since you were all crowded in a small camp surrounding the drop ship. Teenage hormones, anger, violence, and trauma were not a great combination for peace. So, it was either crying, fistfights, or the incessant moans of couples who couldn't keep it in their pants for more than five minutes that usually kept you awake at night.
You were certain it was Bellamy Blake and his two model-looking female companions who were often to blame for that last subject. Although to everyone in the camp, it was very obvious that their relationship was solely physical, neither Roma nor Bree seemed to appreciate when other women talked, interacted with, or even sat near him. Clarke was a heavy target because of her co-leadership with Bellamy. And so were you.
You were within the inner circle, the informal 'Earth council'. You were also handy with a rifle and knowledgeable in tracking, so it wasn't exactly surprising whenever Bellamy took you with him on various missions and hunts. Sometimes though, he would bring you with him even if the task wasn't within your skillset—those were the times you were left feeling a little confused.
Nevertheless, a small friendship sprung from it. You weren't best buddies, but you weren't opposed to each other's company either. That was a big no-no to Roma and Bree and they frequently expressed that fact through passive-aggressive tactics.
This night was no different from others. Thankfully, it was the never-ending fistfights that kept you awake instead of other's carnal endeavours. You opened the flap of your tent and stepped out into the crisp air; autumn was definitely approaching. Hugging your jacket closer to your body, you looked around the camp, unsure of where to wait out the commotion. Everywhere was taken, so you decided a brief walk in the woods wouldn't hurt. Well, you hoped it wouldn't. At least if the Grounders killed you, you would finally get some undisturbed rest.
As you made your way over to one of the fence-wall openings, you ran smack-bang into a barely dressed girl with long brown hair. Roma.
"Watch where you're going, bitch," she spat, scrutinising your appearance from top to bottom.
Ignoring her lovely remark, you eyed her jeans and the way her upper half was only covered by a grey sports bra. "Aren't you cold?"
"Not now I'm not." She smirked, eyes flickering to Bellamy's tent.
You grimaced. I so didn't need to know that.
Right on cue, Bellamy emerged from his tent, fully clothed. He scanned the surroundings before his hardened gaze briefly landed on Roma and then settled on you; it was impossible to miss the way his face softened when your eyes met. Strange.
"Jealous?" she asked, regaining your attention.
"Unlikely."
You brushed past her, though she made an effort to forcefully knock your shoulder and spit another curse at you. Classy.
Bellamy took a step toward you. "Hey—"
But you simply moved past him, continuing toward the wall and saying, "A real gem you've got yourself there."
At least Bree was all bark and no bite.
You could hear him sigh as the distance between you both grew.
Truth be told, you were a little jealous. An unfortunate truth but still a truth all the same. You knew you were beginning to feel something deeper for Bellamy and it was becoming difficult listening to other girls brag about their nights with him. Not like you would ever tell him though—he wasn't a relationship type of guy and as far as you could tell, his feelings for you were platonic.
Never mind. You could settle for his friendship... for now.
You had made it outside the camp walls. At first, you planned on circling the fence for a while, but when your eyes caught on something glowing from the opposite side of a tree, you strayed from your path. Rounding the tree's trunk, you found a glowing neon-pink flower; the species of which you were unsure, but it was beautiful. Then, in your peripheral vision, there was something else lighting up your vision, something blue this time. There was another flower just a few trees away.
And again, you walked over to the strange plant, only to find yourself now on a journey that kept leading to more and more glowing flowers the deeper into the woods you trekked. They were almost everywhere and at this point, you were practically running with an excited grin on your face. In the near distance, numerous radiant colours lit up an area covered by a thick cluster of trees. You wove yourself through branches and leaves, pushing your way into the bright section of the woods.
Once you emerged from the trees, amazement morphed into your expression. You had stepped into a small meadow filled with glowing flowers of various colours that covered the forest floor. There were countless species, but they all shared the same mesmerising radiance. Much to your disbelief, there were even electric blue luminous butterflies that concealed the tree trunks and fluttered in the air.
"Bioluminescence," you whispered to yourself.
It was so beautiful, you could have cried.
Maybe you should just leave the camp and build a hut here. It would certainly beat living with the others.
As you moved further into the small clearing, the butterflies flew closer around you. Holding out an arm, one butterfly tentatively circled your hand before landing in your palm. You laughed in amazement, watching as the small creature curiously crawled across your hand and ticked your skin. Okay, that settled it—you were definitely a Disney princess.
The sound of branches snapping and leaves rustling suddenly pulled you from your amazement; it was coming from where you had entered the clearing. You reached down to your belt only to find the knife holster on it empty. Of course, you didn't bring your knife. You had left the camp's safety and didn't even think to bring a weapon. So stupid.
Before you could reprimand yourself any further, a tall figure emerged from the tree line. The tight dark blue shirt was an easy identifier as to who the figure was. And so were those deep brown eyes.
It was Bellamy. "Woah."
You let out a sigh of relief, feeling your tensed body relax again.
His gaze swept across the vivid tree-encompassed meadow, sharing the same wonderous expression you once had. The overpowering glow from the butterflies turned his tanned skin a light blue, defining the contours of his face and arm muscles. He sort of looked otherworldly.
"What are you doing out here?" you asked.
The incident before you left camp quickly returned to mind and it was evident in the slight irritation etched on your face. He didn't need to respond for you to realise that he had followed you. Great. His little girlfriends were going to have a field day tomorrow if they saw him come after you.
Bellamy's eyes found yours, taking note of your negative reaction. His steps were cautious as he began walking towards you. "I could ask you the same thing."
He stopped in front of you, peering down through a few stray strands of dark brown hair whilst wearing his infamous lazy smirk. No wonder girls were always fawning over him; he was gorgeous, and he damn well knew it too. Even you were falling into the very same trap. Unlike them, though, it was the moments you shared with him when you were alone that conjured your attraction to him. Sure, he was easy on the eyes, but you had also learnt that he was surprisingly a decent human being. More than decent actually, despite how he presented himself to others.
He treated you with respect—a lot more than many others had ever done. You had learnt to trust each other, communicate effectively, and work as a team. Sometimes, you would even find yourselves discussing things that you both intended to keep within till the day you died, things that felt too intimate to share with anyone else.
No matter how much you hated it, you couldn't help but develop feelings for him. Even when it seemed he was preoccupied with other women.
Bellamy eyed you, waiting for the snarky retort he knew you were putting together.
You sighed and turned around, crouching on the floor to inspect one of the neon-pink flowers. "Shouldn't you be teaching Roma and Bree gun handling safety in your tent right now?"
That line was dangerously close to sounding like jealousy and you knew it. You bit your tongue because Lord knows you were most likely to expose your feelings for Bellamy through word vomit.
If only you had been facing him to witness the shame washing through his eyes.
"Funny," he said. "But no. I've got more important things to do."
"Like what? Making sure your best hunting partner doesn't get killed by glowing plants?" you joked, glancing over your shoulder to see his reaction.
It wasn't a grin or smirk like you expected. Not even a little chuckle. Instead, he simply stared at you with this intense look in his eye; it was almost sad but also like he was trying to communicate something to you telepathically.
"Something like that," he murmured.
After those words left his mouth, something about the atmosphere shifted. You suddenly felt overwhelmed with emotion and his soul-piercing stare was not helping. There wasn't a wide selection of movies on the Ark, but you had watched them all, including all the romance movies. The only thing you could compare Bellamy's gaze to was Mr. Darcy's in Pride and Prejudice. Reluctance. Longing. It was all there. Had you been completely wrong about his feelings for you? Or were you just imagining it?
The likelihood of Bellamy sharing your same feelings seemed impossible, so you chalked it up to your wishful imagination.
You stood back up, facing him but avoiding making eye contact. "Well, I—uh," you stammered. "I'm not going back. Not yet."
"I didn't come here to take you back."
That made your gaze meet his.
Why did you come then, Bellamy? you thought.
He side-stepped you and you turned to see him wandering deeper into the meadow. He began observing each and every beauty and oddity the small sanctuary held, touching the petals of every flower with a delicateness you had never witnessed before. Soon enough, you felt compelled to join him.
The two of you must have spent an hour in that meadow, inspecting each species of flora, hovering your fingertips through the glowing cusp of each plant as if you could feel its light on your skin, laughing together when a butterfly landed on the tip of your nose. Sometimes you caught Bellamy watching whenever your face lit up with excitement as you discovered something new. He never really looked at what you had found; he just looked at you, but you were too overjoyed to even contemplate why.
You felt like you had entered a dream, protected from the outside world where there were Grounders, war, and bitchy brown-haired girls. Everything real was forgotten, even your unrequited feelings for Bellamy. You just enjoyed his company in this dream and pretended it would last forever.
Somehow, you had both ended up lying on the forest floor side-by-side, surrounded by flowers as you stared up at the starry night sky through the tree crowns. It wasn't as cold as before; you guessed it was because of Bellamy's close proximity to you. One of his hands was behind his head, the other on his stomach. His warmth was radiating off his skin and onto your own.
You could have fallen asleep if you closed your eyes. Probably not the most logical idea though.
Bellamy's quiet, yet deep voice disrupted the silence. "It's just a distraction, you know?"
"Hm?"
"Those girls," he clarified, and you watched as his words turned to mist, carrying into the black sky. "If I focus too much on the fact that I have to control an entire camp of teenagers, fight a war against the Grounders, while taking care of Octavia and y—" he cut himself off, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I just feel like I start to lose myself."
Your focus shifted from the sky to him. Even he didn't seem to be looking at the sky anymore, despite his gaze still being pointed straight upward. He looked lost in his own thoughts. Serious and sombre—much different compared to how they had been just a short while ago.
"Well," you began softly. "We can't have that. You already seem a little rough around the edges, Blake."
A grin slowly formed across his lips and he shook his head. He turned his head to the side, looking down at your smiling expression from where he lay. The weightiness from before had melted from his demeanour. Because of a little distraction.
You had thought those two girls he spent most nights with were there purely for his own physical needs or because his attraction to them was greater than his self-control. Never had you contemplated the fact that it might have been because he was mentally struggling with the hardships of being a leader. Of course, how could you have? He had never told you before now.
Your brows furrowed. "Why tell me?"
The muscles in his jaw clenched and the grin fell from his lips. A sense of seriousness returned but this time it was less heavy. It seemed more like a weight was lifting from his shoulders. Like a declaration. Like a long-awaited confession.
You felt something warm brush against your hand; it gently grazed over your knuckles, lighting a fire beneath your skin. In Bellamy's dark eyes, you could see the reflection of his hand caressing your own and your heart leapt to your throat.
"Why do you think?" he murmured, his eyes flickering between your own, urging you to connect the dots instead of making him say it aloud.
Your lips parted and the crease between your eyebrows deepened. 
Every time he picked you first to be his partner on a mission, every deep conversation you shared when no one else was around—they all had a hidden meaning. All the times his hand brushed against yours as you walked in sync side-by-side, the times you caught him staring at you through a one-hundred-person dense crowd, or the way he would step in front of you as if to shield you whenever there was even a hint of danger—it was all because...
"Oh," you whispered.
"Yeah." His eyes flickered between yours before he turned back to the stars. "And I—I understand if you don't feel the same way; I know I haven't given you much reason to. From those girls to the... the radio, and the culling on the Ark. If I could take—"
His sentence was cut short as you leaned over him, pressing your lips to his. You could feel his pulse racing in his lips. Or was it your own? Probably both. Your hair fell to the side and his mouth started to move against your own. He began to rise, moving you up along with him until you were both kissing in a sitting position.
Bellamy's hand moved to cradle your jaw, his lips slow and tender. Everything felt like it had fallen into place, like this was exactly how things were supposed to be, with his lips on yours in the middle of a fairy-tale-like meadow whilst surrounded by a field of glowing flowers and beautiful winged creatures.
The butterflies weren't just circling you now, they were somehow fluttering around in your stomach too and it felt exhilarating.
Unfortunately, the kiss did have to come to an end at some point. Even so, the warm fluttering in your stomach never ceased. Bellamy had pulled away first, his hands gently falling from your jaw and back into his lap. He was looking at you and at first, you were afraid he would get up and leave, or tell you he had changed his mind. But he didn't. A smile crept across his lips—not a self-satisfied smirk or a tantalising grin, but a genuine smile.
Forget the butterflies; your stomach was doing somersaults now. He found your hand once more and interlocked it with his own in your lap. His thumb drew small circles on the side of your palm almost as if he knew you needed a reminder that this moment was really happening.
"That was my first kiss," you admitted.
His smile became a little nervous. "Was it okay?"
Was it okay? This boy was a little clueless if he couldn't tell that you thoroughly enjoyed having his lips on yours. So, you answered him with another soft peck to his lips, then pulled back again to see his reaction. He chuckled, nodding his head to say he understood.
"We can always come out here to practice if you want," he said, this time with a smirk.
You laughed. "I think that's a good idea."
He tucked a lock behind your ear and gently brushed pieces of hair away from your face. You could feel warmth creeping into your cheeks, turning them a rosy pink. Well, it was probably more of a violet hue due to the intense blue glow from the plants and butterflies. Either way, it still revealed how nervous he made you feel.
"It's getting late. We should probably head back and sleep," you said. Bellamy raised an eyebrow, creating his own little innuendo with your words and your eyes widened. "Not together! Alone, I mean. In separate tents. With clothes... on..." you trailed off, realising you were only digging yourself a deeper hole.
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose in embarrassment.
He just chuckled and rose to his feet. "Come on, (L/N). Let's go sleep."
You rolled your eyes with a smile as he helped you stand up with him.
For a brief moment, you gave the area one last look, imprinting the memory into your mind. Who could have guessed that when you left the camp walls you would enter a fairy tale of vivid colours and electric butterflies? Or, even more surprising, that Bellamy Blake would later confess his feelings for you? All you had wanted was an escape; instead, you got a dream come true.
Bellamy pressed a hand to your lower back, guiding you with him towards the tree line in comfortable silence.
The walk back to the drop ship was pretty quiet. No more words needed to be said; a conversation that clarified what you two were now could wait for tomorrow when your brains weren't clouded by fatigue and the fresh excitement from confession. Some things hadn't changed though. Bellamy still stole glances at you every now and then, as you did him, earning a nervous smile and blush each time either of you got caught. Your hands alternated from brushing against one another to ever-so-slightly linking pinkies.
Okay, maybe things had changed a little.
You passed each flower that had led you to the meadow and this time, they became less and less as you grew closer to the drop ship. As you came up on the camp walls, the sound of fighting and conversations had died down and was replaced by the faint crackling of dying fires.
Finally, you both stepped through one of the openings and were within the camp. There didn't seem to be anyone awake; with the way the moon was shining down straight overhead, it was clear why. 
Your pinkie fell from Bellamy's and you moved in front of him, taking a few slow steps backwards. "Uh, that's my tent over there," you said, gesturing behind you.
His eyes never left yours as he continued to walk toward you. "Yeah, I know."
"Oh, you know, do you?"
A grin stretched across his lips as he hummed and reached for your waist, pulling you against his body. Your hands wound around his neck, a smile present on your face as he leaned in, his lips mere inches from your own. His lips had just brushed against your own when someone behind you cleared their throat and you both jumped apart.
Bellamy peered beside your head, semi-glaring at the interrupter behind you.
What a surprise it was when you turned around to see Roma, arms crossed—clothes on, thankfully—and looking severely unhappy.
"You have got to be kidding me," she said with a scowl.
Perfect. Great. Absolutely fantastic. Looks like her field day had come early.
No way. You were too tired to deal with this. You gave Bellamy an apologetic glance before attempting to slip away through the gaps between tents. Unfortunately, it wasn't in Roma's best interest to let you off so easily. She caught your wrist and jerked you back toward her.
Bellamy looked like he was about to step in, but you beat him to it.
You tore your wrist from her grasp, words dripping with bitterness as you said, "Never do that again."
For a split second, she looked the slightest bit intimidated, but then quickly covered it up with disdain. Her gaze flickered from you to Bellamy; it was hard to miss the way she straightened her posture and tried to look more presentable for him.
And for a split second of your own, you felt the slightest twinge of fear that Bellamy would change his mind about you and leave with her again. But at that very same moment, he gently grabbed your hand and guided you back to his side, dissipating all your previous worries.
Both you and Roma looked down at your interlocked hands in disbelief.
"Listen, Roma." He sighed, sounding like he was desperately trying to keep his cool. "I think it's best if you and Bree find another tent to sleep in from now on."
Her disbelief turned into pure astonishment. "What? Are you serious?"
Bellamy lightly squeezed your hand.
God, he was putting this girl through the five stages of grief. You almost felt bad. Then you remembered the daily torment she had been putting you through just for existing and the remorse immediately washed away.
"Because of her? She's not even—"
"Choose your next words very carefully," he warned in a dangerously low voice.
Her mouth opened and shut a few times before she realised any insult thrown at you would end badly for her. It's not like Bellamy would hurt her, but he did have power over the camp, so he would probably force her to share a tent with Myles or something. His non-stop babbling would drive her to insanity.
She gave him a defiant look. "What if we don't want to leave?"
"I'll take the tent down and move it somewhere else."
"Then Bree and I will make both your lives a living Hell."
You could hear Bellamy suppress a laugh. "Unlikely," he echoed your previous words.
Roma looked to you as if you could help her case—the audacity. You gave her a sarcastic 'what-can-you-do?' shrug which just enhanced her seething temper. It was obvious that she was getting nowhere and the moment she realised, you swore you could see her ego literally deflating.
She made a short high-pitched noise of frustration and spun around, her hair whipping melodramatically through the air as she practically stomped back to Bellamy's tent. You could hear her call out to the other girl inside, telling her to 'pack her shit' and that they were moving tents. Not long after, the blonde-haired girl emerged from the tent flap holding a bundle of clothes. Roma must have explained to her what happened because they both shot a venomous glare in your direction and then walked off in search of another tent.
You sighed in relief as they disappeared out of sight. You were about to walk back to your own tent, but Bellamy tugged you back to him once more, his arms wrapping around your torso as your hands fell on his chest.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought she'd handle it better."
You fiddled with the material of his shirt, half-smiling. "I told you she was a gem."
"Yeah." He chuckled. "My taste of women has been a little... questionable."
Your hands moved up to his shoulders, pulling your body up against his. His fingertips grazed the exposed skin of your waist, sending a wave of goosebumps across your body.
"You should really try breaking that trend."
He had that same intense look in his eye as when you were both in the meadow. This time it didn't hold any sadness or longing, but rather a sense of finality and affection, like his greatest wish had finally come true—that would make two of you. One of his hands moved to cup your cheek, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb as his face grew closer to yours.
The heart thumping in your chest almost gave out as you reflexively leaned further into his warm embrace.
"I already have," he murmured before his soft lips descended upon yours.
And the butterflies returned.
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pha55ed · 3 months ago
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You and I | F2 (kimi bday celly!)
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type ::fluff tw/cw :: fem!reader for all :( contains :: kimi!, ollie, paul, pepe request :: you and i w kimi ollie paul & pepe plsss (literally my top 4 drivers LOLL im surprised by how many f2 requests there are) link to kimi bday celly!
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Kimi Antonelli | 04
Being one of the only girls in F2 meant that you were basically shipped with everyone on the grid, no matter if you ever talked to them. It was odd, but you expected all the ships to die down eventually, which most did. Except one ship: you and Kimi. It made sense, since you both are teammates after all.
Kimi doesn't know how to react to the shipping. Because on one hand, he knows it's inappropriate since you're teammates but on the other hand, he has a huge crush on you so he doesn't really mind it. So he's stuck in the middle, not sure what to do when asked anything about you.
When people ask him things like, "Have you seen the (Y/N) x Kimi fans?" or "Have you considered dating (Y/N)?" he just awkwardly laughs. Which is the worse option he could have done, since it just fueled the fanbase even more because he wasn't outright denying it.
But, he might have planned that: since he does love seeing all the edits of you two together :)
Ollie Bearman | 87
Since he's one of the most popular F2 drivers, he's already experienced being shipped with other people often. But usually he's shipped with boys, and he's comfortable with his sexuality to not get offended by the shipping since he knows he's not gay. The only issue now with being shipped with you is 1. you're a girl, 2. he does like you.
Whenever he's asked about you, he gets slightly flustered. It's clear to many that he might have a crush on you, but thanks to his delusional fan girls (I'm one of them) they spam Twitter and Instagram stating that you're just platonic soulmates with Ollie.
But Ollie is secretly basking in the ship edits of you and him. He doesn't want to be your platonic soulmate, he just wants to be your soulmate, period. Since he scrolls online so often to keep feeding his crush on you, he accidentally likes one of the ship edits.
This sends twitter into a meltdown, tons of moms and teen girls sobbing over Ollie basically confirming that he likes you. But thankfully, they gaslight themselves into thinking he thought it was a platonic edit. He knew damn well what he liked, but he's not allowed to say anything since it's a risk for PR and contracts - having two drivers date each other can get messy so fast. But he'd be ready to risk it all for you.
Paul Aron | 17
He's surprisingly bashful about the ships of you two, it's cute to watch him turn slightly pink in the ears and cheek at the mention of your ship name. Whenever he's asked about you, he can't help but try and lead the interviewer on - yet never give them a full answer of your relationship.
Your team won't allow you two to date, due to the high stakes and PR damage it would do. Especially since you're both so sought after - Paul being wanted by every girl, and you being wanted by every boy. But Paul didn't care for any girl besides you, you're all he wants and he's determined to get you. Most likely by dating under the table, hiding it from the world.
Whenever interviewers ask him things about his love life, he always hints that he has his eye on someone. Or whenever he's blantanlty asked about you, he can't help but smile a little and give a cheeky shrug, since he can't speak much on the matter.
As your teammate, he does try to flirt with you - but not in a douchebag way. Which is surprisingly, since his Instagram posts and friends scream frat-boy, he's different from them. He tries to take it slow with you, not wanting to scare you away by being seeming like a weirdo or asshole in any way.
Pepe Marti | 21
Being shipped with you made him happy and he's unable to hide that. He's naturally super smiley, so when he hears your name - it's almost as if you can see his tail wag at the mention of you. Just like a puppy, he has major puppy-love for you.
But he tries his best to not feed into the ships due to it going against the contracts and policies in place. His face just can't hide it though, he's grinning ear to ear when asked if he would ever date you. Only for him to reply, "Only if I got the chance to :)"
Basically: he makes your PR team work overtime to ensure the audience that you two are JUST friends. But it's hard to do when Pepe straight up tries to hold your hand in the paddock. Or when he posts on Instagram that you're visiting his family for dinner.
Thankfully, the PR are great at manipulating the public to believe you two are just friends - which you are technically,,, but you both know you're so much more than that.
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moonydustx · 5 months ago
Note
giving them a hickey headcanon (Law,Zoro,Luffy and Mihawk)
Hi Hi! All good? I'll start with a small warning: I know it should have been hc but I think I got mixed up in the format (each story actually came out differently). And each one looked a little NSFW, but I swear there's nothing explicit or very detailed. I hope you enjoy!
Some came out with more dialogue, others with much less. Yeah, I really got lost in the format.
requests here | rules and guides | masterlist
Luffy
warnings: Luffy isn't so innocent in this one. Pre-established relationship. Amor is the equivalent of love in Portuguese-BR.
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Not that Luffy was innocent, but he had never paid attention to the fact that hickeys existed and how carnal they could be. And regarding your relationship, things used to be lighter and calmer between the two of you.
The first time he saw it wasn't in you. He was walking around the Sunny's deck and saw Zoro sleeping, as usual. He approached slowly and saw the stain on his neck.
"Who did you fight with that hurt you like that?"
"Don't bother me Luffy." Zoro grumbled, pushing the captain away with his hand.
"Did Zoro get hurt?" Usopp leaned into Luffy's side, as did Chopper. "That's not a bruise."
"It's a bruise, but it's light." Chopper concluded.
"You idiots, have you never seen a hickey in your life?" Nami grumbled.
"I already knew! The great captain Usopp already won one..."
"A hickey?" Luffy asked himself more than the others.
The matter remained forgotten in his mind, until you appeared in front of him later that day. The sun was already setting when you found him sitting on top of the Sunny's bow. With little effort and using his help and elasticity, you soon found yourself sitting between your boyfriend's legs, both of you facing the sea in front of you.
"Amor?" his voice pulled you out of the comfortable silence between you.
"Yes Lu?"
"Can you give me a hickey?" he asked, forcing you to turn over your shoulder and face him. "I don't think you've ever given me a hickey."
“That’s not exactly how it works, but…” you let the words trail off in the air.
Your lips placed a small kiss on his cheek, then on his jaw and finally, a chaste kiss just below his ear. At the same point, you placed another wet kiss and finally gave a strong hickey. As soon as the pressure on your lips was released, you placed another quick kiss.
"Well, you're made of rubber, I don't think you'll get marked." You explained and snuggled back against his chest.
"But it felt good." you felt his hand fix your hair and create a space for him on the back of your neck.
Soon after, one of his hands slid down your thigh while his lips repeated almost the same path you had taken and unlike him, you were sure it would be at least painful to the touch, let alone marked.
"Did you like it?" he asked, still leaning against your shoulder.
"Yes." your slightly shaky voice said more than he could ask. It was supposed to be a simple hickey, but Luffy knew how to mess with you.
"Can I have another one?"
"Later, when everyone is asleep."
That meant that in some hidden corner of the ship, you took part of the night to explore each other. It also meant that the next morning, you had hickeys all over your body.
--
Law
warnings: pre-established relationship, jealous Law in this one.
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He truly believes in that thesis that a strong hickey in the wrong place can be the cause of death, so he will always use small bites, the kind that only serve to make every part of your body shiver - and generate some other reactions too. Except when someone makes him jealous.
Don't misunderstand, Law is a reserved guy, not very interested in public displays of affection, but when you are alone, he is a clingy and extremely affectionate person - after time and time of you trying to win him over to transform the relationship into something more.
He had already shared the fighting field with Kid, victory with Kid, he would never share you, but the pirate seemed insistent on discussing things with you and your laughter echoed anything Kid said. Law already saw red at that moment.
After that, you ended the night in the arms of a version of Law that wasn't so common: jealous, unstoppable and delicious. You were just supposed to take some time and talk in his room. You ended up with all the things from the table on the floor, your panties lost - and probably torn, a trail of hickeys going down to your breasts.
"Trafalgar D. Law..." your voice came out like a scolding as you looked at yourself in the mirror already in his room. "What is that?"
"Just a few marks." he hugged you from behind, kissing one of the purple spots. "Sorry babe, I think I got carried away."
"Don't apologize, other than that, your jealous version brings good results."
"I hope that doesn't mean you're going to let that idiot bother you." he grumbled, placing another kiss on one of the hickeys. "Stay here, I'll get some ointment to ease this."
As soon as he returned, he carefully applied the medicine to each point you pointed out, but with a cynical smile on his lips. He knew the hickeys wouldn't go away fast enough until his next date that day with Kid.
Zoro
warnings: pre-established relationship, some broader mentions of NSFW content, but nothing explicit. Two uncontrollable drunks.
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He liked to see the effect he had on you, whether it was the slurred speech when he pinned you against the wall, trying not to get lost between the way he looked at you and the proximity of the two of you, or you getting up with the wobbly legs of his bed and spending the next few hours grumbling about being sore - and you always whispered to him that that wasn't a complaint or when he saw you wearing scarves on hot days, or some accessory that disguised the mark on your skin.
Despite this, he didn't like it or used to leave marks on purpose. Even though he enjoyed seeing his love for you embedded in your skin, he knew that hickeys would only attract more questions about what that was, who did that and lots of jokes about the two of you.
However, on the nights lost between shots of sake, hidden in a dark corner and with the two of you numb from the alcohol in your blood, Zoro didn't worry about it. Or with almost nothing.
"Zo, control yourself, this is going to be marked." you lost it in a moan when you felt him capture your skin between his lips.
"Don't tell me you don't like it." he whispered, his lips running down your neck and leaving another mark. "You're mine, aren't you? Let me make that clear to everyone."
The next morning, in addition to the hangover that took over you, you could see the hickeys on your skin. However, this time, you could see the same hickeys in Zoro's.
Mihawk
warnings: brief mentions of NSFW here, this time F!Reader is the "jealous" one in the relationship. In my hc, Mihawk continues to speak Spanish/being Latino.
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He could see your sullen face from meters away and couldn't contain a brief laugh. He knew you hated it when he had to be away to take care of his responsibilities as a shichibukai, but it was a necessary. Knowing it was just a small tantrum from you, he approached slowly, stopping at the edge of the bed and looking at you.
"Still mad that I have to go?"
"Of course! You barely stayed home for two weeks before you had to leave again. They really can't pick another guy?" you grumbled, seeing him shake his head. "I'm sorry I seem frustrated about this."
"Please don't apologize for this." he asked, seeing you drop your sullen expression and crawl over the bed, to where he was standing. "However, it seems my dear wife has some plan."
"Is that pretty girl going to be there?" you asked referring to Boa Hancock and he nodded. "I know there's nothing to be jealous of, but lately you've been spending more time with her than with me."
"And you're right not to be jealous." As soon as you knelt in front of him, your arms hung on his shoulder, sliding through the lined fabric of his white shirt. "No other woman interests me other than you, cariña."
"I know, like I said, I'm just letting my frustrations get louder." your lips began to distribute kisses along his jaw, going down to the back of his neck with white skin. Almost automatically, you sucked, seeing a small hickey appear. "I'm sorry." You pulled away, a cynical smile on your lips.
"If you plan to leave me marked with your love..."
Mihawk began to slowly unbutton his shirt, knowing how much it would excite you. Your hands soon helped him finish the job and your nails slid down his defined abdomen, stopping near the waistband of his pants.
"Make a mess, leave your hickeys on me and I will use them as a reminder of the incredible woman waiting for me at home." He bent down, finding the sensitive spot on your neck and placing a kiss. Soon, his mouth stopped immediately next to your ear, whispering in an almost tasteful way. "And when I come back, it will be my turn to mark you."
--
a/n: that's it, now my mind will be stuck on Mihawk walking around with his clothes open and hitting everyone's vision with scratches and hickeys.
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russellsppttemplates · 8 months ago
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Did you lose her? (Lando Norris)
Maybe it was never a change of heart
Note: english is not my first language. It's angsty with a happy ending, and it's also the first piece that's I've written that's based of a song, Stick Season by Noah Kahan. I hope I did it well enough! 🫶 also, it has smut, and if you have followed me for long enough, you know I don't usually do it, but I think it's these AUS pics 😮‍💨😌🥵
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
my masterlist
Cw: curse words, previous break-up and themes related to that, smut (mentions protected sex, hormonal contraception, praise kink if you squint at the whole thing)
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog
And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed
Doing the food shop was one one of the mundane adult life tasks you actually enjoyed doing. You had some music on your ears and walked along the supermarket, making sure you weren't buying too much outside of your list.
Tomato sauce and two packets of the instant noodles for when you didn't feel like cooking or were in a rush, you told yourself as you browsed through the aisle.
The scent should've been the first give away, but lots of people wore the same perfume. However, not all of them had the characteristic underlying scent that to this day meant comfort.
"Y/N! I wasn't expecting to see you", Cisca said as he placed the item she took from the shelf on her shopping cart, "goodness, how long has it been since we've seen you?", she smiled sadly.
Five months, you thought. One hundred and fifty two days since you and Lando parted ways and you shipped your belongings back to England. You told yourselves it was amicable and that you'd still be there for eachother, but you had published your first article and he had started his season without the other by your side.
"It's been some time, yes. How are you?", you wondered, "we've been good, you know how busy it gets around this time of year. But Savannah had their little girl, Athena - let me show you a picture!", she scrambled her phone out of her bag.
"Oh, how cute!", you cooed at the little baby bundled up in a pink blanket, "Mila is such a good big sister, too!", she showed you a picture with the two of them in Lando's lap, the baby tucked safely into his chest as Mila seemed to be showing him one of her toys.
Gulping and swallowing the tears that threatened to fall, you looked up at her and smiled, "I'm glad everyone is doing good - send Oliver and Sav my congratulations!", you nodded, hoping she would get the hint.
Storing her phone back in her bag, Cisca smiled, resembling the smile that you woke up many times to, "I will, darling. All the best for you, hopefully we'll see you around", she said before rubbing your back soothingly.
You found an aisle without people and allowed yourself to cry. Just for a little bit before you had to go back to pretend it didn't hurt still.
And I'll dream each night of some version of you
That I might not have, but I did not lose
"I'm on the podium, dad!", Lando yelled as he hugged Adam, cackling in excitement as he hugged the team who were there to celebrate and congratulate him.
"Congratulations, baby!", you yelled as Lando turned to hug you, arms going around your waist and pulling you as close as the safety barriers allowed, clicking open his visor so you could look at your favourite eyes in the world.
"I love you so much, Y/N!", he yelled back, winking before he went up to get weighed in.
On the podium, he looked at you like you two were the only people there, smiling up at him as he blew you a kiss.
"I knew you'd be on the podium, baby", you smiled once you were back in his driver's room, "How are you so sure?", he wondered, kissing your neck soflty.
"The development they're doing, your talent, Lando, I knew it was going to happen, and from now on, you better get used to being up there every single weekend", you smirked, kissing from his throat to his jaw and up to his lips, humming when his tongue poked at your lips begging for entrance.
It was hot and he was sweaty. His phone read 4:30am as he stood up against the headboard, finding the light switch so he wouldn't walk around the hotel room in complete darkness.
It was the third night in a row you showed up in his dreams. The first time, it was subtle as he dreamed about flying on plane and he was sure you were there. The past two, however, had you in there as a main character. He dreamed of walking in the paddock with you, of having you there to comfort him and knock some sense in his head when his P4 in qualifying didn't feel enough, and now you were celebrating his podium.
It's weird how his brain went there, how his arms and face felt like they had truly been holding you despite not having done it in months. Muscle memory betrayed, he thought as he poured himself some water and took little sips of it as he looked outside the window.
Fuck, he missed you. And not just for these big moments where he was on a high and wanted to share it with you or when he was do low you were the only person that could make him crawl out of the dark hole he snuck himself into. It's when he's making his bed back home and the other pillow remains fluffed because no one's using it, it's the mug you left behind and he doesn't have the courage to send back to you or give to someone else or when he sees something that reminds him of you and he gets it, hoping one day he can get them to you.
You once called me forever, now you still can't call me back
Lando sighed again as the call went to voicemail. It was the third time it happened in the last couple of hours. It was media day at Suzuka and they were having lunch.
"You know it's 3 am back in England, right?", Oscar asked bluntly, "when we were having breakfast, sure, you might have got hold of her if she was doing a late night, but I think you should wait", he reasoned.
Oscar was right. He didn't want to risk it waking you up even though he was sure your phone was on silent since you loved your sleep dearly.
"I hate this", Lando muttered, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Oscar was aware of some of what had happened between Lando and you. The start of the season always came with new gossip and this one's was filled with rumours and conspiracy theories about the paddock's sweetheart and young couple.
Lando started driving in Formula One when he was nineteen, so they had seen his grow up through the years along with your relationship. At first, you were pinned down as his sister, then a best friend when they realised you didn't share genetics, and then you were his girlfriend. The lingering touches and big smiles they caught never rushed you to admit your feelings or put a label on your relationship, but everyone was there when you walked hand in hand on the paddock and confirmed the suspicions they had for months. Lando Norris and his best friend were in love and they all felt like proud parents as they watched you support him unconditionally every time you could.
"Did you lose her?", Oscar quesioned his team-mate as he picked on the food on his plate.
"I don't have her with me, have I?", Lando snapped and regretted it almost immediately.
Oscar put it down to tiredness, jet lag and the fact that he seemed a bit lost on how he was navigating the situation, "What I'm saying is, did you lose her? Did you do your absolute best to keep her with you?", he said sternly, "Used all of the options and possibilities and it still didn't work out? You don't lose someone because things fell apart in a stressful situation", he reasoned.
He was young but not dumb, truly.
"Feels like I have though", Lando added.
"What I'm saying is if you really want to know how she is and if you want to have an honest conversation with her, you have to make an effort. Not just calling and asking your mother to see if she's spotted her lately, or your sisters to check in your circle of friends whether or not she has moved on", Oscar lectured.
"Do you think I can do it? Do I have what it takes?", Lando confessed his doubts out loud. One of the reasons he had yet to act on it was because having a second chance wasn't for everyone and he needed to make sure it went perfect. You deserved that.
"You're a Formula One driver with deep pockets and a massive heart that still belongs to someone. What can't you do?", the young australian driver mused before he got up, taking his plate with him and leaving Lando pondering about what to do next.
I hope this pain's just passin' through
You sang loudly as you dusted the living room shelves, windows open to let the autumn air in. While cleaning wasn't your favourite thing to do, you had woken up with an urge to clean and given that it happened very rarely, you were taking it in stride.
So far, you found a receipt of a pair of jeans you were meant to return but gave your friends instead, a concert ticket and a bigger amount of dust than you'd like to admit. When you pulled the fabric strap, though, you knew that you wouldn't want to get rid of it. The lanyard belonged to one of the passes for one of the Grand Prix weekend you went to see Lando. Inspecting it closer, you realised it was his second home race, the Polaroid picture attached to it confirming the date.
It started with you joking about the fact that the pass was not the prettiest, so Lando hunted down the paddock to find a Polaroid camera, snapping a picture of you two and pinching a hole on it so you could carry it around and cover the supposed ugly pass. The photo was still intact, just a little dusty as you wiped it with your sleeve. Lando was kissing your cheek as you smiled impossibly big, eyes squinty and smile beaming because of the guy whose lips were on your cheek.
A single teardrop fell on the plastic covered paper before a few more followed as you sat down, looking at what you had once been and how things were right now. The missed calls on your phone led you to believe that maybe he still felt something too, but the potential heartache of trying again and it not working would hurt more than it already does.
The vibration from watch caught your attention as you read the two notifications. One from your e-mail with Qatar Airways written in bold and a text from Lando.
Qatar Airways
Thank you for choosing to fly with Qatar Airways!
Lando ✨️
I need you here with me, Y/N, please
I made the flight reservation for you, they will hold the ticket until two hours before the flight leaves, you just have to confirm with your passport ❤️
You promised me that I was more than all the miles combined
Heathrow Airport, 7th October 2023, 6:30 am.
You couldn't back out now, that would mean Lando would lose the money he spent to get you here in the first place. It wasn't by all means quiet, but your thoughts were loud enough.
You shouldn't be here. Why were you here? Why did you accept this, Y/N?
Because Lando needed you there.
Simple as that.
Boarding the flight, you smiled and thanked as the flight attendant pointed to the area where your seat was and where you would spend the next six hours and a half.
"I'm sorry, our seats are by the window", a woman in her thirties said as she bounced a little girl on her hip, making you get up so she could get to it, "thank you", she smiled, sitting down and buclking herself and her daughter to her body.
"Lyla, you can't go pulling on other people's clothes - I'm so sorry", she apoligised as the little girl pulled on your shirt's detailed button buckle.
"No worries, I know how restless they can get. You do the best for your baby. You're only responsible for yours and her emotions, no one else's on this plane", you offered her, remembering the times you would take flights and fully grown adults would go up to a stressed parent to let them know they could hear their crying child as if the parents themselves didn't know.
"My husband is somewhere in there, too", she chuckled, sometimes I feel I'm responsible for his too - accountantable in a way at least", she chuckled.
"You weren't able to sit together?", you wondered.
"My husband planned the weekend to go watch a race and come back, but we found some holiday days and we decided on a spontaneous trip. This was the only seat left they had", she explained.
"I can change seats if you want", you offered, "I'm flying on my own and I'll get to the destination all the same", you giggled.
"You wouldn't mind?", she asked, relief settling over her as she tried to see her husband, waving at him to come closer as you touched the button to call the flight attendant as the passengers were all sat down on your section.
"This lovely young woman says she doesn't mind switching seats with you", she said to her husband as you spoke to the flight attendant.
"No, there's no problem with that if you both agree", the flight attendant smiled as you got up, ignoring the frown on the man next to you who had to get up so you could swap, "bye bye, Lyla!", you waved at the little girl before her parents thanked you once again.
Finding your new seat, you put your bag under the seat in front and sat down, excusing yourself to the older couple next to you, "I just swapped seats with the gentleman that was here, I'm sorry", you smiled, hoping they wouldn't be too mad.
"Oh, he was able to sit with his family after all - I told you, Harold!", the lady winked at her husband, "I'm Francesca, you can call me Fran", she said sweetly.
Despite the early flight, they both seemed to be full of energy as they started telling you stories of their life and family, showing pictures of their kids and grandkids.
"One day you'll have all of that with the person you love, darling - if that's something you want, of course!", Harold peeped in, "our granddaughters are always telling me not everyone wants the same things!", he chuckled softly.
"It's okay - I would like that, actually", you smiled sadly as Francesca landed her hand on top of yours.
"Why does that sound like a confused heart, dear?", she commented, reading you like a book. The flight was closer to be three quarters of the way to the destination, so you still had some time to kill.
"A little bit; I'm actually flying over to see the person who still has this confused heart", you mumbled.
"Your eyes sparkle when you talk about him, dear - something tells me he's going to 'unconfuse' your heart", she smiled, "tell me about him".
"Godness", you chuckled, "He's kind, respectful, honest, goofy, cute, charming, loving, he's all that is good. We just lost our way, I think", you recalled, smiling at the thought of him.
"You'll find it back, dear. Life has mysterious ways but it has the right ways - I like to believe it does, anyway", the older lady assured, squeezing your hand in hers.
Waving goodbye to Harold and Francesca when you found the taxi bay, you requested to be taken to the paddock.
When you got there, you payed the kind driver before he helped you take your suitcase from the boot, "enjoy the race!", he smiled.
You were thankful all eyes were on the track already, making you cross the whole paddock and step into McLaren's hospitality quickly after collecting your pass.
"Y/N!", Zak said as he was the first person to spot you, "you're here, you came!", he smiled, hugging you tightly, "we're all very happy you're here", he said as he asked one of the team members to store your suitcases somewhere appropriate before leading you to the corridor to the drivers' rooms.
"Lando is inside, and the race starts in less than ninety minutes, so you won't talk all you need to, but it's a good start", he said, knocking on the door before he left.
When Lando heard the knock, he hoped it was you. Sophie and Oscar were great people, but in the last hour, everytime he opened the door, theirs were the faces he saw instead of yours.
"Y/N", he welcomed you into his room before closing the door, "I hope it's okay that I flew you here, thank you for coming", he said as he hesitated on giving you a hug.
Taking a step forward, you laced your arms around his waist as he did the same around your shoulders, inhaling eachother's scent and feeling like a weight was lifted off both of you, "I missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered before you pulled apart.
"It's not the first time you've done that for me", you fumbled with your hands, "although I was very surprised. We haven't spoken to eachother in some time, Lando", you sterned.
"Not because I didn't try", he bit bat with an ironic chuckle, "Why did you come here then?", he defended, taking your words as immediate offense and not taking a second to process them properly.
"Because even though we're not together anymore, you matter to me. I care about you! I'm not sure what monster you depict me as or that you imagine I've turned into, but I wouldn't dream of wishing you misery! If you call me and tell me you need me here, I'll be here because I care about you!", you snapped, "you have no idea how many times I wanted to give up and cancel this! Why am I here, Lando?", you asked.
You didn't expect him to react that way, not that you had a much better reaction anyway.
"Fuck, this is not how we do this", you took a deep breath as Lando held your hands in his, mimicking your movements as he did the same. Three long deep breaths, in and out, in and out, in and out.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that", Lando began, hands laced on yours still, "thank you for bring here, I needed you here because there's no one else in the world that can make me feel comfortable like you do, and I need that. I need to feel like myself - and I know it's a selfish ask to make you get up and drop your things to be here with me but-", you interrupted him.
"It's okay, Lando, you're okay", you cooed, searching for his eyes and hoping you'd get the message your mouth was failing to say through.
You pulled him to sit in front of you in the massage table, "I've been seeing all the podiums you've been getting - the team have done such a great job developing, and your talent and skills have brought it to the podium", you tried a lighter subject even though you were 99% sure of his worries.
"Oscar still qualified above me", he began, "He's a rookie and he's managed to do in months what I haven't done in five years", he allowed himself to express his feelings. After all, it was you.
"Oscar is not driving a tractor like you were", you shrugged your shoulders as Lando laughed.
"For someone who was invited last minute and got a pretty good pass, I'm not sure how the team would feel about you talking like that", he smirked, hand finding your own as he rubbed his thumb on your palm.
"I'm only telling the truth", you smiled, "and I mean it. I know how this sport works, but you shouldn't compare yourself to your teammate when the circumstances are so different", you mused.
"The team have been great and they still haven't said anything", he reasoned.
"Of course they haven't because it's something that happens, Lando. I was watching the highlights and so many drivers went over the limits because that's how this track goes", you stated, "there's only so much you can do and you shouldn't put all that pressure on yourself", you tsked, "I know you do, but you shouldn't", you smiled.
"You always know what to say, don't you?", he chuckled, "I have an inkling on how this here works", you winked and tapped his head with your free hand.
A knock on the door interrupted your moment as Jon opened it right after, "Lando, we need to start prepping for the sprint", he said before he turned to you, "Hi Y/N, good to have you back!", he smiled before he let you finish what you were doing.
"I should go, then", Lando trailed off, "are you going to browse around the paddock? I bet a lot of people miss you and your face here", he nudged.
"I came here for you, I don't care about anyone else", you smiled as you leaned over to press a kiss on his cheek for a few seconds, smiling against his warm skin before grabbing your bag and walking out.
Most of the team must've known you were coming since not many of them took a second look whenever you greeted them or entered a different area.
One of the media girls got you a set of headphones as she stood next to you, Oscar and Lando getting ready to go to the track.
His routine hadn't changed as your eyes followed him while he got dressed appropriately and safely for the race.
Before Lando put his helmet on he looked back at you, winking and smiling when you winked back.
When the gap wasn't closing in, you knew Lando would be disappointed with P3, not because of the place itself but because his team-mate had done better.
As you moved to a better spot to watch the interviews on the media pen, your heart felt like someone was using it like a trampoline, jumping and stomping on it as Lando spoke about himself with such a negative tone.
Surely, the interviewers were fishing for answers with biased questions and his mind took him there.
As you waited for him to be back to the hospitality, you got yourself something to eat, realising you hadn't done it since the plane.
Lando was beating himself up and he couldn't shake the bad mood he was in even when he thought you had travelled to see him and be there for him.
As Sophie gave him a quick debrief about his interviews, he stepped into his driver's room so he could have a quick shower and then head to the team debrief.
"It wouldn't hurt going up to her, you know?", Jon told him, ready to take any harsh words first if it meant you didn't hear them.
"I know it wouldn't, I'm just going to eat something and then I'll join the debrief with the rest of the team", Lando mumbled as he walked up to you.
"Hey", he said sitting down on the sofa next to you.
"Hey, Lando", you said, testing the waters and approaching his body until you rested your head on his shoulder.
"You are going to get your win, Lando. It's going to be an amazing weekend and it's going to be your first. Surely important, but you'll be a race winner and go on to the next race", you said as he seemed to be unsure of the tone you were going for, "as that will be a big moment in a long career - because it won't define it - this doesn't define you either, as a person and as a driver", you concluded, hoping to bring a little bit of his confidence and self-esteem back up a little.
"And you're going to be there?", he asked. He was feeling like shit and needed to know. It wasn't fair, but he needed to know.
"I can't make promises like that, not before we speak properly", you remarked, looking up at him from where you were, kissing his cheek and squeezing his hand in yours, "do you want me to stay here or should I go back to the hotel?", you asked. It wasn't the right time or the right place to talk about it.
"Could you stay here, please?", he said as you took your book out of your bag, knowing it would run long and you'd need some entertainment as there was only so much catching up you could do with the team when they're suppose to be working.
"I will, then", you said as Lando took the plunge and kissed the top of your head.
Ten chapters and a tea later, Lando tapped your shoulders, "I'm finished, are we ready to go?", he asked as you got up accepting his hand to hold as you walked out of the hospitality, grabbing your suitcase from the storage room and bidding goodbye to the team.
"I couldn't get a separate room for you, but the room I'm staying in has this living room area and the sofa opens into a bed, they said it's really comfy and they also left an extra mattress topper and some blankets", Lando said as he drove, "in case you didn't feel comfortable, I- I just want you to feel comfortable", he emphasised nervously.
"Lando, you don't need to walk on eggshells, okay? It's me", you smiled reassuringly as he stole a quick look at you before focusing back on the road, "sounds like a nice solution, fine by me", you reassured him.
Leaving the car to the valet and taking the lift up with you, you stayed silent until you were inside the hotel room, "That's the bedroom area, bathroom's here - and it has a double sink - and then the living room", Lando patted the extra linen folded on the sofa.
"Thank you", you assented, "would you like to talk now or is it bad timing? You must be tired f,-".
"Yes, please", he agreed immediately sitting on the sofa and making room for you to sit in front of him.
"I don't know where to begin", you observed after a while, "it's been tough being without you - I have been so used to having you there for me and to be there for you that nothing quite has the same meaning. I can live without you - barely, but I can -, that's not the question, but I don't want to", you manifested.
"We ended things because we had to, and it did us both well to see from another perspective - that's what it felt for me anyway -, but I want to be with you and to have you with me", he elaborated, "I don't care if you have to spend more time back home because of the distance, or come with me to the races because of the distance, too, I-".
"It was never about the distance, Lando", you interjected. You both used that excuse way too many times but deep down you knew it wasn't because of it.
"We'll work it out then", Lando suggested, "we'll work on us because knowing eachother doesn't mean we don't have to put ourselves first and keep investing on our relationship. I value you so much Y/N, I love you so much and I want to do this right", he whispered as if he spoke any louder would disturb the moment.
"I love you too", you smiled as you laced your hands together, "we'll work on it, together".
It was already late so Lando offered you the bathroom so you could shower and do your night routine first and then make the sofa bed to your liking while he did his night routine.
"Good night, angel", Lando said after you hugged him goodnight, kissing the top of your head before letting you lie down first since the light on his bedside table was the only one illuminating the room.
After you cocooned yourself in the sheets comfortably, you spoke up, "Lando, I'm sorry I didn't answer back sooner", you apoligised.
"It's okay, love, you don't have to worry about that", he cooed softly and you could hear the smile on his voice.
"I know it's not, but thank you for making me feel better about it, goodnight", you smiled, feeling hopeful about it.
The next morning, you were woken up by the noise coming from the bathroom, assuming Lando was showering inside as you stretched, surprised at how well you slept. Maybe the bedding was genuinely nice, the sofa bed wasn't bad to begin with, especially considering the hotel you were staying in, or maybe it was the fact that for the first time in months, you fell asleep knowing the person who your heart belonged to was more than happy to let you keep his, too, and he was in the same space as you.
"Good morning, beautiful", Lando smiled as he noticed you were awake already, "did you sleep well?".
"Good morning, Lan", you yawned, "I did, really well, actually. At what time do we have to be at the track?", you wondered. It was a night race, so the call up was later than usual.
"I'm leaving after breakfast, but you can stay and head there later if you want", Lando declared as you walked up to him, "I just need to freshen up and get ready", you smiled, kissing his cheek and heading for the bathroom with your clothes.
As soon as you arrived at the track, you took one of the back entrances as you knew Lando would spend some time with the fans and other drivers he bumped into, finding a nice spot on the lounge and going back to your book.
"I'm going to start race prep", Lando stopped by you in the lounge after a quick meeting, "I probably won't talk to you much until afterwards so I just came to check on you", he reasoned.
Getting up, you moved to one of the corridors, leaning up to kiss his forehead softly, "Good luck, my love, you're going to do so well, I know it", you smiled against his skin.
"I have my lucky charm with me", he smirked, kissing the top of your head before he got back to Jon.
From P10 to P3, Lando had an eventful race. Fortunately, and compared to the rest of the grid, he seemed to be doing fairly well as he stood in front of AC Units while replenishing the water he lost during the fifty-seven laps.
"I'm so proud of you!", you cooed as he got back to the garage, shaking hands with all the mechanics and engineers before he got to you. You hugged his sweaty body, not caring about it as long as you felt his close to you.
"They're postponing race debrief so I'm going to shower quickly and then we can get going, beautiful", he smiled, kissing a spot on your cheek very close to your lips.
Smiling giddily, you went to the bar area to get a bottle of water for yourself as Sophie walked last you, "seems like we will be seeing a lot more of you again soon - maybe Zak can also hire you as our lucky charm!", she winked as you shook your head, blood rushing to your cheeks at her words.
Back in the hotel room, it was your turn to freshen up and get ready to sleep. The spirits were high and you were feeling like the wait time was over. Your heart was healed enough as you sat on Lando's bed, "I'm so proud of you, you had an incredible drive tonight", you smiled as you moved closer to him as he sat on the edge, back against the headboard and one leg on the mattress while the other hung beside the mattress.
"It felt so good", he smiled, "thank you for supporting me", he cupped your cheek as he silently asked you for permission to kiss your lips. Lando couldn't waste anymore time as he pulled you to him so he could kiss you properly, your legs on either side of his as you straddled him, revelling in the feeling of being in eachother's hold as your hands played with his hair while his held your waist.
"As much as I'd love to continue this, I'm exhausted, baby", he rubbed your thighs, "it's okay, my love, I wasn't thinking of letting you do anything else anyway", you smiled, kissing his nose softly before you got on one knee so you could flop to the side and land on the mattress.
"Sleep here, yes?", he mused and you nodded, undoing the bed and getting under the sheets, his arm holding you to him and making sure he didn't let go.
As if you'd leave anyway.
4.30am and Lando woke up again. This time however, the sight he longed to see was right there. The you he had and had got back, cuddled up to his chest as your leg was hoisted up on top of his own and very close to his aching cock.
As he tried to change the angle so every time you moved, your smooth skin wouldn't pratically tease him, you stirred in your sleep, eyes opening as he tried to adjust your knee.
"Is everything alright, baby? Am I hurting you?", you said as you recoiled from his body.
"No, angel, no!", he quickly guaranteed, "I'm sorry I woke you up, it's just that your knee was very close to me and I was having a hard time dealing with it".
"A hard time indeed", you snickered as you felt his hard-on strained on his Calvin Kleins. Dating after being friends for so long brought an easy joking side to your relationship so much easier and funnier as you wouldn't get offended with most of what you said to eachother, "need help with that?", you smirked.
"But I wanted to treat you", Lando pouted, "Can I, gorgeous girl?", he whispered as he kissed up your neck once you whispered "yes", hands roaming on your body as he pulled up your nightshirt, finding your nipples and twisting them slightly to work your body up the way you did with his.
Your sighs and whimpers let him know he was doing a good job as undressed your torso, littering small kissed from your throat to your tummy, "you're so gorgeous, Y/N, I can't believe you're mine", he said as he blew a raspberry on your tummy, earning giggles from you before he licked up a stripe near your panties line.
"You know how much I like it when you wear your pink panties", he voiced as he touched you over the cotton fabric, feeling you pulsate already, "Do you like it when I tease you over your pink panties, baby?".
"Yes", you scrambled out betwen moans and deep breaths, "Oh my Goodness, princess", he cooed as you squirmed, "You want me to fill this pussy up?", he wondered as you let out a yes followed but a deep mewling sound.
"Let me take a little peek, then", as his fingers pushed the fabric down, a string of wetness caught in the material as he smiled, "Oh my Goodness, look at this pretty little pink pussy", he kisses your clit, "all of you, you're se beautiful, baby".
Rubbing the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, pressing the soft skin as he got rid of your underwear, "Are you going to let me fill you up?", he asked as he wouldn't do it without consent.
"Yes, please do it, Lan", you moaned, hand looking for his own to hold.
"You don't need to say please, my love - here", he whispered as he laced your hands together, "you'll always have me, you hear me? I'm yours, sweet girl", he smiled.
His hand that wasn't securely laced in yours helped you take his underwear off before he came back up to kiss your lips softly.
"Does it feel good when I tease your clit like that, gorgeous?", he smirked as he ran the tip of his cock in your sensitive bud, "Yes - uhg, baby", you gasped, looking into his eyes and swearing you could get lost in them had you not been in such a state of arousal as you were.
"You look so pretty like this, my beautiful, sweet girl", he praised as he saw your twitches and heard your moans at his words, "we need protection, though", he stated.
"I'm good, didn't see anyone else - you?", you wondered as he shook his head, "didn't see anyone else either - condom?", he asked, making you nod and separate so he could get it from his toiletries bag. Hormonal contraception left you feeling worse that it made your life easier, so you and Lando always used condoms.
Rolling it down his shaft, Lando climbed back in the bed and kissed your lips, adjusting himself before he entered you.
You whimpered as Lando slid inside you, a low groan escaping from his throat as he gently slid, taking your hand back in his and resting them next to your head on the pillow.
"You feel so good for me, sweet girl, so wet so warm, so good - aah", he breathed out, "so tight, my sweet sweet girl", he squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling of your walls squeezing him.
You stretched your arm out enough to pull his face closer to yours, kissing his jaw and then his lips before whispering "you can move, love".
Lando pulled back slowly, thrusting in gently to begin with and savouring how you felt around him.
"I love you", you muttered into his neck between moans as he picked up the pace, thrusting into you faster, harder and deeper.
"I'm close", Lando groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, his hand crawling between your bodies and drawing lazy circles on your clit to get you to your release.
"Me too, feels so good, I feel so good", you moaned out, a high pitch one particularly when you felt the band was about to snap.
“My sweet girl, my beautiful sweet girl, are you going to come for me?”, Lando worked you up as your body started to show signs of it, "let go, my love, I'm here, I've got you”, he soothed, still gently rubbing your clit with one hand and keeping hold of the other.
Your back arched, sensitive nipples rubbing against his skin, as you came with a high-pitched whine, nuzzling your face on his thick neck as you came undone around him. Lando came soon after, his hand that was not holding yours groping your waist as he groaned.
“Good, sweet girl, that was good, you did so well for me. I’ve got you, it's okay", he assured as he felt you flutter around him, probably from overstimulation considering neither of you had been with anyone else and you hadn't slept a full night yet, the tiredness he felt also a cause for how quickly he finished.
Lando kissed your forehead sweetly before he pulled out, getting up and throwing out the condom on the bathroom bin before he cane back to you on the bed.
"Let's put this on, yeah?", he whispered soflty as he helped you put on his linen shirt, buttoning it enough to let you breathe but still feel hugged by the fabric, and then a clean pair of underwear he got from your suitcase.
Before he laid in bed with you again, he put on his own underwear, pulling you to his arms and then pulling the crisp white covers over you.
"Do you feel good, baby?", he asked once you were cuddled up to him, "yes, I do", you smiled, a mixture of post sex glow and being back in his arms.
"Thank you for not giving up on us, I love you, sweet girl", Lando said as he played with your fingers, bringing them up to his mouth so he could kiss every single one of them, "you're the best thing in my life", he mumbled, letting you drift off to sleep.
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