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immoral-stranger · 4 months ago

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𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Summary: “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!” — Or, in which an accident-prone girl stumbles and falls for everything, including Lando.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem! reader

Word count: 23.2k (grab a snack)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: injuries, hospitals, surgery, scars, blood, dead parent, mention of car crash. Smut: penetrative sex, oral (f! receiving), body insecurities, very vanilla. Fluff: idiots to lovers, so much pining and scheming. Other: inaccurate timeline and made-up race results. it's fiction, folks!

A/N: Posting this then falling off the face of the earth, because this fandom is scary. Kinda unedited for now. English is not my first language! ♡

Melbourne, Australia

Lando didn’t recognise you at first. Granted, he wasn’t the best at remembering faces, but usually if he’d met someone, he would remember them the second time around. Although, this wasn’t his second time seeing you, he would later learn. It was probably close to the tenth time. It had just been some time since your last encounter. For a logical reason, he would also later learn.

Albert Park, 2024. Race day. That’s where he saw you this time. Walking down the paddock, next to Oscar and his girlfriend Jasmine, trying to keep up as the three of you made your way to the McLaren garage. Your hair getting messed up by the breeze, annoyingly sticking to your glossy lips, feet almost tripping on the seam of your baggy jeans. You were out of your element, putting on a brave smile — and Lando could tell.

He didn’t realise he’d been staring at you, from his seat on the steps up to his motorhome, until you were out of eyeshot again, somewhere in the garage. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why you were familiar and it was killing him. If you were Australian, maybe that would explain it, since Lando had no way of keeping track of all of Oscar’s old friends.

But you weren’t Australian. As he later walked into hospitality, he overheard a bubbly British accent talking to Jasmine and Oscar, an accent belonging to you. It confused him even more, really gnawed inside of him. He should know you, yet something wasn’t aligning, something wasn’t right. Oscar wouldn’t just fly anyone halfway across the globe.

It all came crashing down when he heard Jasmine ask you a simple question.

“Bunny, can you grab me a fork?”

Standing up from the table, you gave Lando a small smile as you caught his gaze, signalling that you at least knew who he was.

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. The nickname finally made him realise, finally made him recognise you. But you weren’t the Bunny he’d met at multiple races before. You didn’t look like she did. Or, you didn’t look like you used to. Bunny was Jasmine’s childhood friend who had gotten sick, who had stopped traveling, who had stopped coming to races at all. The girl before him however, wasn’t sick. You didn’t look weak in any sense. Nervous, fidgety, and out of place, sure — but never weak.

As you were about to say a quiet hello to him as you walked past, Lando was already falling apart — socially that is. Words were stumbling out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to keep up. He cringed internally before he could even finish the sentence.

“Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

He shocked you, that was obvious. Your eyes went wide as you struggled to say something in response.

“Lando, you can’t just say that to someone,” Oscar chuckled from a few metres back.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… didn’t recognise you,” Lando stuttered out as you still stood dumbfounded in front of him.

“You don’t think I would’ve told you if my best friend died?” Jasmine butted in, standing from the table, placing herself beside you.

She could tell that you didn’t know how to react, already expressing your nerves about how uncomfortable it would be to attend a race after not going for a very long time, afraid that people would ask too many questions.

“It’s alright, it’s been a long time,” you finally managed to say.

Then, an uncomfortable silence fell over the four of you. It was like you knew that you should explain why it had been such a long time, but you didn’t know how to do it —casually explaining the second most traumatic experience of your, thus far, relatively short life. It wasn’t casual at all, and you couldn’t even try to fake it.

“Ehm, I’ll go get that fork for you Jazz,” you broke the silence, swiftly excusing yourself to go back to the catering table.

Oscar couldn’t stop chuckling and Jasmine looked borderline offended, something she tended to do, a resting bitch-face of sorts. Lando felt like the stupidest, most socially inept person alive, mentally facepalming himself as he watched you leave. This was going to be a long day.

Lando’s race however, was frustratingly short.

You and Jasmine watched the race from the garage, surrounded by muddled mechanics, blinking monitors and loud noises. It really was a circus, a well-oiled machine, fascinating to watch. You’d forgotten how fun it could be. Also, how nerve-wracking it was to be standing next to Jasmine while her boyfriend — love of her life, light of her eye — was going 300 km/h, head to head with insanely competitive people, in big death traps.

The early races of the 2023 season that you had managed to catch in person hadn’t been too impressive, from McLaren’s standpoint. Your humble opinion was that anyone who even sat in one of those cars was more courageous and impressive than you would ever manage to be. As the last season went on, you had learnt to trust the process, but both you and Jasmine would be lying if you said that 2024 didn’t look like an even better year for the brightly papaya-coloured team you were rooting for.

With both drivers in good starting positions and Verstappen’s brakes catching fire on the third lap, Jasmine couldn’t contain her excitement, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet next to you. Ferrari’s in the lead and McLaren fighting for that glorious third spot. It wasn’t until Lando had a chance to pass Leclerc that the castle in the air came crumbling down. Ooh’s and aah’s filled the garage as you watched the scene unfold on a monitor.

“Oh, fuck,” you said under your breath, knowing that barely anyone would be able to hear you in the crowded space. “Is it over for him?”

Jasmine had been too busy squealing over Oscar going into third that she failed to realise that it was on the cost of Lando. That was until his car came rolling into the pit lane with irreparable damage from making contact with Leclerc.

You’d seen it happen before, but that didn’t change the feeling. Your heart basically lodges itself in your throat, making you unable to breathe for a couple seconds. And then it was the aftermath… Seeing the driver leave their car, head hung low, just wanting to scream at the world in frustration but bottling it all up inside.

Leclerc wouldn’t even get a penalty, it was just how racing worked sometimes. That didn’t change the feeling of complete utter failure for Lando. You could tell that as he, with assertive steps, made his way to his driver’s room, slamming the door shut so hard that it only flew back open again.

“Bunny.” Jasmine grabbed your arm to get your attention, leaning closer so that you would hear her. “One of us has to go ask if he’s alright. He doesn’t have anyone here with him.”

“Doesn’t he have an entire team to do that?” you wondered.

Surely, they didn’t send these drivers out without having enough support from the team when something went wrong. Surely, you thought. The look on Jasmine’s face told you the opposite. The fact that no one was running after Lando to his room was also quite telling. Or maybe… they knew better than to disturb him. Maybe Jasmine was setting you up for failure by asking you to comfort someone who didn’t want to be comforted.

“He’s gonna need someone who’s not obsessed with performance and profit. Trust me, the people on this team may be nice, but they are not human when it comes to things like this,” Jasmine explained, and you took her word for it.

“Am I the best option?”

You didn’t know him. And you were awkward. But so was he… Yet, you couldn’t even get your little brother to stop crying by making him laugh or comforting him — let alone a grown man, like Lando.

“Please,” she insisted, and you could tell that she was serious. There was no point in arguing with her. Seeing the rest of the race with Oscar battling to keep his podium position would be enough of a feat for her poor emotions. She wouldn’t be able to walk away from it.

You weren’t even sure if you were allowed to walk back there, but there was also no one stopping you when you did it. Your steps were the opposite to Lando’s assertive ones as you made your way to his driver’s room. You had no idea what to expect when you reached the already open door…

… but Lando, sat on his little bench, racing suit halfway off, lazily scrolling on his phone was not it.

“I understand that I’m most definitely not the person you would want to talk to right now, but Jasmine said that you were here alone and I just wanted to ask if you’re okay,” you rambled out way too quickly.

It got his attention, looking up from his phone, but he didn’t say a word. He was mostly shocked to see that you were the first person to come talk to him. He had expected Jasmine, or maybe someone from the team that he wouldn’t want to talk to anyway. But not you. You had no reason to even be nice to him after how weird he’d been.

“Uhm, so this is me asking that,” you reminded him when his silence got too much for you.

“I’m fine,” Lando sighed, dragging his fingers through his sweaty curls, getting flashbacks of what had happened all over again.

You could tell from the look on his face that he, in fact, was not fine.

It was toxic and harmful, that his first instinct when something like this happened was to immediately check his phone to see what people were saying about it online. But he had done it anyway. And sure enough, there were people blaming him — calling him reckless and a whiny little kid, finally getting what he deserved. There were also people calling Leclerc out, but Lando somehow couldn’t focus on it.

Because the thing he saw most of when he was scrolling through twitter was your face. Maybe that was why he was even more surprised to see that it was you standing in the doorway to his room and not someone else.

“Do you know that we’ve gone viral?” he asked you, referring to the phone in his hand. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh under his breath.

“No?”

You looked confused as Lando scooted over to make space for you to sit down beside him. You didn’t have any social media, and Lando knew. He definitely hadn’t tried to look you up after your encounter earlier to see why on earth he hadn’t recognised you. It had gotten him nowhere. You had no accounts of your own and Jasmine hadn’t posted any photos of you. He had stopped himself before searching up old paddock photos. So, it wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t know about the video that was circulating around right now.

“Apparently, someone was filming when I said that I thought you had died. It’s quite a funny clip,” he clarified, tilting his phone to show you the screen.

He watched as you looked at the clip, a gentle giggle leaving your mouth at how ridiculous it was. Your smile then turned into concern, seeing the amount of interactions the post had earned.

“Is that not bad publicity for you?”

“I don’t care about that,” Lando said honestly. “But I am truly sorry for saying that to you.”

Thinking someone had died was a new low even for him, and saying it to your face was just unexplainable behaviour. Yet, he still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t recognised you. Sure, he knew that you had been sick and then… probably gotten well again? But did that change your appearance? Maybe he just hadn’t really looked at you before.

“I can’t blame you, Lando — I probably looked dead the last time you saw me,” you laughed.

You couldn’t remember exactly when it was, sometime mid last season. Right before it got really bad, but while your condition was stable enough for you to go to races. Maybe it was Silverstone. You had a vague memory of seeing Lando on that podium. You knew that you had looked horrible either way. When you thought about it, maybe Lando had never seen you completely healthy.

“There was something wrong with your lungs, right?” he asked, wondering if he was remembering things correctly.

“Just the left one. I had spontaneous pneumothorax three times in a year,” you explained, earning a confused look from Lando before adding, “Collapsed lung, basically air was leaking from the lung out into my chest.”

He raised his eyebrows as you spoke. You made it sound a lot more trivial than what he assumed it was.

It happening one time wasn’t actually that uncommon. Apparently, lungs collapsed right, left, and centre. It was usually a quite easy fix as well, not even something that required surgery. But when it happened to you, that third time — it was obvious that the problem was much larger. There was multiple surgeries and constant checkups. There were ugly scars and never-ending breathing exercises.

It was a lot, for anyone. Even worse for someone just about to graduate from their bachelor’s programme. Your life had fallen apart, to say the least, and it wasn’t something you gladly talked about, so making it sound trivial was your way of coping. If Lando realised that was another question.

“And I’m sat here moping about a DNF,” he heard himself mumble before realising how insensitive that might’ve come across. “But you’re okay now?”

“One final checkup left, practically as good as new,” you said, putting on a smile. “You do know that it’s not comparable though, right?”

Lando didn’t understand at first, so you kept on speaking.

“Me, having a life threatening medical condition — and you, having a bad day at work?”

Maybe you were the one sounding insensitive now, knowing full well that his work wasn’t normal in any way, shape, or form. But that was the opposite of your intentions, so you kept on rambling to try and save yourself.

“You’re allowed to be selfish and angry about something going wrong in your life without thinking about how other people might have it worse,” you added. “Because let’s be honest, someone is always going to be in a worse situation. That doesn’t take away from your right to feel things about what’s happening in your life.”

What had happened with Leclerc was shitty as fuck and if you were Lando, you’d be crying, cursing everyone and their mothers that even had a slight connection to Ferrari. But you weren’t a professional race car driver. You were an emotional young woman. What you were trying to say was that Lando had a right to even be a fraction more emotional than what he was showing right now.

“I don’t know what to say,” Lando answered simply after a moment of silence.

He wasn’t used to people telling him he had a right to be emotional. He’d been told since he was a child by people in the industry that being a whiny little kid would get him nowhere. Maybe you had a point. Whatever he was doing now to deal with his emotions (which was ignoring them completely), obviously wasn’t working with how he was feeling inside.

“You don’t have to say anything to me if you don’t want to, just allow yourself to feel, because even I can tell that you’re shutting yourself out and I don’t even know you.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke. Your accent reminded him of the people he grew up around. That was something he hadn’t realised before. He was starting to think that he had been completely self-absorbed all the other times he’d met you. You were almost… pretty, when you sat there next to him in ugly fluorescent lighting. Maybe it was the way you seemed to actually care that made his brain a little mushy.

You were scared to cross a line with him by saying too much, so you decided to retreat. Standing up from the bench, creating more space between you, you took a stance in the doorway again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe in his tiny little room.

“I should probably go back to see how Oscar is doing,” you said, signalling with your hand to the garage.

Lando looked up at you with big eyes, nodding understandingly. You could almost visibly see how he was holding back from telling you that he was, in fact, not okay.

You really had no business pushing him to say something to you. But, something inside of you was calling you a coward for not even giving it a try. For not even giving it a second chance, trying to make him feel better about himself. It all reminded you a little all too well of something that your mother always used to tell you. Fuck it.

“My mum taught me to always linger in doorways for a couple extra seconds before leaving someone,” you said, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the mere thought of how stupid this was. “That’s usually when people get to thinking about things they haven’t had the courage to say yet, since you never know when you’re next going to see the person.”

You were over-explaining it, pressing your nails into the soft skin of your palms as you got nervous. You were trying to say that you always resolved to leave people feeling better than they did before you talked to them.

Lando cracked a small smile as he watched you stumble over your words. He had now decided that you were pretty, standing in the doorway, your gaze oscillating between him and the floor.

“I’ll ask one more time and then I’ll go — Lando, are you okay?”

“No,” he sighed. He couldn’t hide it. “But I will be.”

“It’s never okay after something like that happens. I keep on blaming myself for things I have no power over, but that’s got to stop at some point, right? I have to learn at some point,” he continued, voice coming across as slightly defeated.

You recognised his mentality, Oscar usually said something similar after experiencing a setback. You still didn’t understand how he wasn’t more visibly upset, yet you now knew that he was harbouring it all inside. It made you feel better that he had actually said it out lout — that he wasn’t fine. You also felt a little bit worse, getting the feeling that his self-deprecation was far more severe than you originally thought. He blamed himself without good reason.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to say the right thing now, but for what it’s worth, I’m so impressed by you,” you admitted truthfully, hoping you weren’t showing pity. He was actually such an inspiration, such an idol. Even when he sat there, looking like he had run through hell and back, fighting his brain to not feel sorry for himself.

“Have I done enough lingering to make my mother proud, you think?” you joked, tilting your head while you looked at him.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll join you out there in a minute.”

Oscar had secured his third position and his first home race podium. Getting to see him up on that podium, covered head to toe in champagne was so special to you. Even though you were Jasmine’s friend first, you had really grown to love Oscar during their years of dating. Although, Lando never managed to make his way to the celebrations, something that lingered in the back of your mind.

You had tried so hard to get it right, to say the right thing — to make him feel better about himself. That was more than most people did. He was used to people sucking up to him, but this was different. This was honest. You had no reason to be nice to him. You had no reason to even give him your time of day. But you did it anyway. Lando didn’t even think to say thank you before you left. He should’ve, because you were right. He didn’t know the next time he would see you, hell with your track record you might actually be dead tomorrow, and it was a shame if you didn’t know that your words had helped.

Lando wasn’t sure how long he stayed in his room, sitting on that uncomfortable little bench. Letting his thoughts get the best of him while simultaneously trying to think of what you’d said to him. That he should feel, that he should think this through. He was just hoping that what he was feeling was healing more than it was self-destructing.

He stopped spiralling when Oscar came back to his room to change, just next to Lando’s. He was covered in champagne, exuding pure joy of getting a home race podium. While Lando was happy for his teammate, trying his best to give him a heartfelt congratulations, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how that trophy could’ve been his. The first one of the season.

What Lando didn’t know was that Oscar was very much aware of all of this, having learnt how to read his teammate’s expressions quite well after spending so much time together. He knew that Lando took defeat harder, or at least he showed it more clearly than Oscar ever did. He also knew that he needed someone to… turn on the faucet for him, making him feel like it was okay to spew out feelings about how the race had gone, without judging him for what he might say.

“Did Jasmine come check on you?” Oscar asked, leaning in the doorway to Lando’s room.

Lando would never be able to look the same way at a person standing in a doorway without thinking about what you had said about lingering, staying for a couple extra seconds.

“No, uhm, Bunny did,” he replied, feeling himself smile for some reason. He felt odd using your nickname, as he had no idea where it originated from. Yet, it was just so you.

“What was that look?” Oscar laughed. Lando’s smile wasn’t just a normal one. Oscar could almost guess what had happened, that was just the kind of person you were.

“She’s different from when I last met her,” Lando explained, feeling heat rise to his face as he wondered just about how transparent his emotions actually were. “Oscar, she’s trouble.”

“This is about to be hilarious, isn’t it?”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Greater London, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t have to wait long to see you again. On a week without racing, he decided on a whim to stay in England for a couple of days longer than planned after debriefing at the MTC. It was someone’s birthday — a mechanic, an engineer — he really didn’t know, but a bunch of people from the team ended up in a pub, drinking to their hearts’ content. It was nice, but most of all, it was relaxing. It wasn’t Monaco, where everyone had their eyes on him as soon as he stepped outside. He could blend in better with the masses here.

As could Oscar. Lando had never really seen Oscar drunk before. Apart from now. Putting him in a cab alone and sending him home wasn’t an option when the poor lad could barely stand on his own. That’s how Lando ended up in his and Jasmine’s shared flat. Even helping Oscar up the stairs had been a mission, especially since Lando wasn’t that sober either. It was alright, they were young and without responsibilities for the rest of that week at least. The team leaders didn’t even have to know…

“Bunny is in the guest room, but you can stay on the couch if you want,” he heard Jasmine say from the kitchen, getting Oscar a glass of water, as Lando had just watched her wrestle him to bed. Jasmine was a short woman, but when she set her mind to something, she could move mountains. Or, her boyfriend.

It took Lando’s inebriated brain a concerning amount of time to figure out that Bunny meant you. You were Bunny. And he liked you. Or he thought so. He liked the picture of you that he had built up in his head after your conversation in his driver’s room.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing here. Maybe you and Jasmine had a girls’ night when Oscar was away. He didn’t actually know that much about you, even less so when his brain was compromised by alcohol.

Lando thought he was being sneaky as he walked over to the guest room, where the door stood ajar, but the wooden floors creaked beneath his feet. He could spot your head of hair peeping out from under the sheets, shoulders covered by a papaya-coloured shirt that he assumed was originally Oscar’s. Your eyes were closed but you weren’t sleeping.

“Lando, I can feel you staring,” you almost whispered, cracking a smile but still not opening your eyes.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling ashamed.

You reached out to turn on the lamp that stood on the nightstand. Lando watched as you sat up in bed to get a better view of him, looking amused as soon as you caught his gaze. “Drunk?”

“A little.”

“Did you two have fun?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen Oscar this drunk before,” Lando said, letting out a soft laugh. He’d been like Bambi on ice getting out of the cab and up the stairs. It was certainly a bonding experience between teammates. “Jasmine had to wrestle him to bed.”

The shirt looked huge on you, it was too big to even be Oscar’s. That was a nicer thought, for Lando. As you sat up, the sheets pooled at your waist, with a bare leg sticking out on the side. For a second, it struck him that you probably had no trousers on.

No, nope, look at her face Lando.

Your face was bare. If he stared long enough he would probably start counting your birthmarks and imperfections. It almost looked freshly washed. Maybe you and Jasmine had done face masks. He didn’t really know what a girls’ night entailed.

“Your hair is shorter.”

Lando said it out loud the moment he realised it. His drunk brain didn’t let him keep anything in.

“It was easier to manage while I was back at the hospital,” you explained, on instinct reaching up to touch it.

“Fuck, right, the surgery!”

Oscar had told him about it and Lando had somehow forgotten. He could blame the alcohol for now. You only having one checkup left and being practically as good as new had been too good to be true.

“Uh, how did it go?”

“Simple checkup turned into an emergency surgery and two weeks in a hospital bed.” You shrugged, as if you had told him what you had eaten for dinner, not showing any signs of how awful it had truly been. “But I survived.”

Lando nodded. “That’s good, I guess. Scary, but good that you’re good.”

How many times could he use the word ’good’ in one sentence?

The both of you turned silent after that, unsure of what to say next. You watched him as he stood in the doorway, his feet tentatively moving as his eyes flickered around the room. You started to smile as you realised what he was doing.

“Is this you lingering in the doorway?”

“I think so,” Lando shyly admitted. “Is it working?”

You chuckled, still smiling all sleepily at him like what he had said was funny, or special. It made Lando’s heart hurt and his cheeks burn.

Truth be told, you could’ve used some lingering right now. You had talked to your father and to Jasmine of course, but you still felt like you had this pressure over your chest for things you hadn’t said.

You could’ve told him about how you’d gone alone to the hospital because you’d thought it would be quick, but ended up getting prepped and rushed into surgery before anyone you knew even had time to make it there to be with you. There had been no one there to hold your hand.

You could’ve told him about the scar on your chest that was now worse than ever before. It was larger, more red, and way more noticeable. You’d cried trying on shirts before going to dinner with Jasmine tonight, which you hadn’t had the heart to tell her about. You’d wanted to cancel the entire thing, before sucking it up and putting on a turtleneck.

You could’ve talked about it for ages, knowing that maybe he would listen. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not right now. Not to him.

“I think we should both go to sleep, Lando,” you said, yawning comically loud as you turned off the light before falling back on the mattress.

Lando didn’t push you. Instead, he chuckled and said a soft goodnight. He knew he maybe should’ve pushed you to talk. He sensed that he could’ve done it. But it also didn’t feel like the right time. Not when he was drunk. Not when you were tired.

His eyes longed on you for a couple extra seconds, you looked adorable with the sheets practically swallowing you whole. He then walked back into the kitchen where Jasmine was standing, putting wine glasses into a display cabinet. Maybe you weren’t entirely sober either.

He took a seat at the kitchen island, slouching over as he rested his face in his hands. Jasmine smiled at him, tilting her head to the side as if to silently ask him if something was wrong.

“Jasmine, has she always looked like that?” Lando said, unsure of what he was even asking.

“Bunny?” Jasmine questioned, leaning her elbows on the counter, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion.

“She looks different from when I first met her.”

Maybe you just weren’t sick anymore. Maybe Lando had just been a right idiot the other times he’d met you and not properly cared to look at you. Maybe you had been shy and he had been self-obsessed. Maybe it didn’t matter what had happened before.

“Well, for a start, she has two working lungs now,” she argued, a laugh slipping out under her breath as if what she said was obvious. “Got the colour back in her skin and gained some healthy weight, I think.”

Lando hummed in response. It made sense. You did look different. That was the only sane explanation as to why you were constantly on his mind.

“Why did you ask?”

She looked at him for an answer, her eyes staring him down, searching for eye contact that he wasn’t able to hold. He couldn’t help but turn to the side so that she wouldn’t see how pink his face was.

“Holy shit, you like her!”

Jasmine let out a gasp as she realised, having to contain herself to not squeal and wake the entire building. Lando had nothing to say all of a sudden, his drunkenness not showing at all.

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

He quickly stood up to go to the bathroom, ignoring her question and hiding his dumbstruck smile.

“Goodnight Jasmine.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt your hands grow sweaty against the stack of papers you held in them. The costume looked nice — almost too nice to be on your body. Beautiful, sparkly platform heels. Delicate lace and trims on the dress. The corset showed off a waist you didn’t know you had. It wasn’t you, so thank god you were acting like someone else.

“Go on, Magenta. Say your next line,” Jasmine urged you from her spot on the bed in your childhood room. The old canopy and fairy lights that decorated your bed made her look ethereal in a way.

There was something heartfelt, seeing your oldest friend in that room again, now a whole lot older than when the two of you would play with dolls on your floor. When you dropped out of university, you had to move back in with your dad and little brother. It hadn’t been awful, but not ideal either.

Magenta was the character you were playing in your local theatre's production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. You’d been part of the crew at the little theatre for most of your life and now, when you had no classes to worry about and no summer job lined up for you — being part of a musical over the summer seemed like the perfect waste of time. You were going back to university in the autumn, so you felt like you had a chance to have some fun this summer.

“…to sing and dance once more to your dark refrains. To take that step to the right...”

Magenta was the opposite of you. She was bold, and sexy. She had a sultry voice and was dressed in a stereotypical maid costume. Showing off both legs and cleavage. It was a fun change, but a scary one too.

“But it's the pelvic thrust… That really drives you insane?”

Jasmine couldn’t keep a straight face as she acted like your counterpart, starting to giggle like a schoolgirl, trying not to get told off by the teacher for laughing. The lines made no sense to her.

“And our World will do The Time Warp again — Jazz, you’re not focusing!” you exclaimed, joining her laugher as you fell on the bed next to her, ruffling the huge amount of decorative pillows you had on there.

“This was so much easier when you were doing Moulin Rouge, because then I at least understood the plot,” Jasmine scoffed as she looked over the manuscript, leaning into your shoulder as you both relaxed into the pile of pillows.

“What do you meeean your character is a maid who is also an alien? Babe, why are they going to space?” she continued, gesticulating wildly with her hands at the pages.

“It’s camp, Jazz. Or maybe just written by someone on acid,” you laughed.

Rocky Horror was not the simplest of musicals to explain to someone who had never heard of it before. It was camp, and queer, and rock’n’roll. There were aliens, and virgins, and a man in golden underwear. It was a nightmare — and the most fun thing one could imagine.

“Who have you invited for the opening night? I’m so sorry again that we can’t come,” Jasmine asked, turning over to lay on her back, staring up at the fairy lights.

The premiere was only weeks away at this point, but you had known for awhile that Oscar and her were busy celebrating her parents wedding anniversary on the same exact date. She had kept on apologising and you had kept on telling her that is wasn’t that big of a deal. They could come on the second weekend, or the third, or any weekend during the entire summer. It didn’t matter to you.

“Don’t apologise,” you reassured her. “I haven’t invited anyone. Dad has to go with Matteo to his first ever football game.”

Matteo was your little brother. He was the sweetest kid you knew, albeit biased. He was also the most anxious kid you knew, so you could already guess that performing well during his game would be important to him. Your father had to be there, even for your own sanity.

“But you need someone there, cheering you on. This is a big deal!”

It really wasn’t. You’d done it alone before.

“Jazz, Matteo is 10. He needs dad there more than I do,” you remarked.

“I didn’t just mean your dad. You need someone there in general, Bunny.”

You really didn’t. You’d done a lot of things without someone holding your hand along the way.

“Lando should be in England on that day, y’know, some MTC thing,” Jasmine hinted, her gaze catching yours.

You thought you heard her wrong at first. She never talked about Lando casually. From what you had gathered, he and Oscar hadn’t even been that close up until the start of this season. Now, you knew that they hung out, but what did that have to do with you and your little musical?

“Huh? That’s just absurd. He would hate it.”

If you were allowed to be judgmental for a moment, you would assume that Lando had never seen a musical in his life. Let alone something as weird as Rocky Horror. You also didn’t understand at all why he should come watch you, on his own. That would honestly just make you feel like the joke was on you.

“I think he likes you,” she commented plainly, as if it was clear as day and not at all something from her wildest imagination.

She might as well have been speaking Greek. You did not understand Greek.

“Why would he like me?” you squeaked, your eyes going wide.

“You’re hot and funny, maybe a bit odd, but people like that. Why wouldn’t he like you?”

“I’m sat here flipping pages of a manuscript, while he is flipping some model over in bed,” you expressed, throwing your copy of the script at her.

Maybe that was harsh. You didn’t know Lando well enough to say something like that with confidence. But, you did know yourself well enough to say that you weren’t his type.

“So, what? He could flip you over!”

You snorted in response, hiding your laugh. Jasmine was being ridiculous right now.

“It’s like you lost all your confidence when you got sick,” she said, her voice suddenly softened. “Remember our trip to Malaga? That Bunny would’ve jumped on his dick without thinking twice.”

It was crazy how she could make your trip to Malaga sound sentimental, or like an old memory of how you used to be. Malaga had been anything but orthodox. A group of teenage girls — too young to be drinking, making questionable decisions and racking up their body counts.

“I guess I grew up, Jasmine. I also shouldn’t do something reckless with Oscar’s teammate.” You shrugged, standing up, ready to be over with this conversation and to start rehearsing again.

“That is if he actually fancied me, which he does not,” you decided.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t know what he was doing. When he sneakily asked Oscar if he was doing something after their meetings, he had really been thinking about you. In his mind, maybe they could’ve done something the four of them, so it wouldn’t be as obvious that it was you he wanted to see again.

But Oscar had an anniversary dinner to go to with Jasmine. And you — you were in some off off-West End musical. He really had to get to know you better, because that was not something he would have ever imagined about you.

Not that he was imagining you doing things…

Oscar had told him to go. Lando had questioned his entire existence.

Yet, he still somehow ended up outside of the small theatre on a Friday night. He wasn’t even sure if he was technically still in London, that’s how remote the little community he was in felt. Going out clubbing with Max was his plan B, if this turned out to be as ridiculous as it sounded.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show — that was what the poster outside said. Nothing but a big pair of messily painted red lips were on it. He had no idea what he was in for and Google hadn’t been much help. It looked like a mixture of the story about Frankenstein’s monster and a drag queen show.

He was early, arriving right in the middle of the final dress rehearsal. Something that Oscar had recommended he did, to not get recognised as much and to be able to leave swiftly if he turned out to absolutely hate it. Lando wondered how much of an avid musical-goer Oscar was, or maybe he had just gone to yours.

The theatre was small, probably not more than a hundred seats. It was classic looking, with red velvet chairs and heavy curtains lining the stage. He slid into one of the seats at the very back, looking with anticipation at the stage. The room was maybe filled to one third with what he mostly assumed were the cast’s friends and family.

The stage was decorated with delicately handmade props. It showed a grand hall with checkered flooring, a wooden staircase at the back. Multiple odd sculptures and a wonky replica of the Mona Lisa. All under bright red lighting.

Lando didn’t even have time to take it all in before actors entered the stage.

“Are you having a party?” said a girl in a baby pink dress and a comically blonde wig. Her voice was so high and brittle that it was almost annoying.

“You’ve arrived on a rather special night. It’s one of the master’s affairs,” answered a man with a fake hunchback, his long white hair making him look nothing but creepy.

“Oh, lucky him,” said the girl again.

That’s when he heard a voice he recognised. A voice belonging to you. Sliding down the bannister of the stairs, you whipped an old-timey feather duster around.

“You're lucky. He's lucky. I'm lucky. We're all lucky!” you practically yelled as you made your way to the girl, who looked positively terrified by you. Her looser boyfriend (Lando assumed), who stood by her side looked even more frightened.

It had been two minutes and Lando already rooted for the weird people — meaning you and the man with the hunchback. You were in what he would call a… slutty maid costume. Except it wasn’t slutty; it was more artful. What was he even thinking?

Your wig was large and curly, the dark red colour of it suited you well. Your makeup was dramatic, and your entire costume was covered in silver sequins and glitter. You were not the nervous, out-of-her-element girl that he had seen in Australia a couple months ago. Right now, you were acting completely like someone else. And you were damn good at it.

Much like he imagined a musical to be, the conversation immediately turned into song. The Time Warp, he had heard of that one before. The stage flooded with an ensemble of dancers, dressed in tuxedos. The plot of this musical was still something completely alien. Maybe it barely had a plot.

Lando couldn’t decide if he loved it or hated it. He felt like maybe that was the entire point of the show. Like it was supposed to be annoying, but also so colourful and odd that you couldn’t help but be amazed by it.

Even with so much happening on stage, all he could focus on was you. You didn’t dance or sing like someone who’d injured her lungs not that long ago. You performed like you loved it, having a hard time hiding your smile even if your character was more of a moody type.

Lando, too, found himself smiling. He was astonished by how such a small production still could archive basically perfection. The singing, the choreography — it was like watching something prerecorded. It had to be a passion project for all of you, because he wasn’t sure small theatre productions were the most lucrative thing.

At the end of the number, the dance ended with everyone falling to the floor. That’s when it happened, when he for the first time in the performance, heard something that didn’t sound like perfection. No, that was the sound of someone in pain.

His eyes tried to find you in the pile of bodies on the stage.

You’d practiced it a million times. Falling over — gracefully that is — in high heels wasn’t the easiest of tasks. But never once before had it hurt like his. A stinging pain that never ended, so you couldn’t help but scream. It gathered everyone’s attention, quickly stopping the act and flicking on the normal lights.

A broken ankle. Your broken ankle and your yelping voice. It hurt like hell.

You could see how the people around you started to panic, talking about a first aid kit and getting a stand-in ready to take your place. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, your eyes filled up with tears, clouding your vision.

God, you would pass out if this pain didn’t stop.

Lando watched it all unfold from his seat. Seeing you sat in the middle of the stage, clenching your hands over your foot, tears falling down your cheeks, taking your mascara with them.

Ironically, something started to hurt inside of Lando, and he didn’t know how to react. Could he sneak out so you wouldn’t have known he was here? No, no. He was going to see if he could be of any help. That was the only right thing to do. In seconds, he had left his seat and started to march down to the stage.

“Lando?”

Your voice was pathetic. Your tears clogged your throat and you felt ashamed, so fucking ashamed.

You knew that Jasmine had talked to Oscar, and that Oscar had talked to Lando. But seeing him by the edge of the stage, a worried look on his face, wasn’t something you actually thought would happen. You did not understand why he would’ve wanted to come.

“Is your foot okay? The fall looked pretty bad,” Lando said as he crouched down in front of you, looking more at your face than at your ankle so as not to scare you more than what was already inevitable.

“You saw me fall? Oh fuck, why are you even here?” you groaned in pain.

You didn’t mean for it to come across as rude — you just didn’t have much of a choice over your emotions right now. It was nice that he was there, so fucking nice.

“Oscar told me to come — I mean, I wanted to come too,” he emphasised.

Lando didn’t exactly know how to help you now that he had waltzed up on the stage like some knight in shining armour. He looked around to see a man in his mid-thirties come forward with a bright red first aid kit. He tried not to raise his eyebrows too much at the man — dressed in his costume, looking like if Elvis Presley had been in a motorcycle gang.

The man tried not to look too much at Lando either — having known you most of your life and never once seen you bring a boy to the theatre.

“Darling, that’s broken,” the man said as soon as he got a view of your ankle.

Lando could’ve said the same thing.

“No, it’s not Eddie. Just bruised I think,” you tried to tell yourself, and Eddie.

Eddie, whose character in the musical coincidentally was also named Eddie, was your on-sight medic, working as a nurse when he was not busy acting and singing in his studded leather vest and greaser-like hairstyle.

Bruising meant you could suffer through it. Broken meant spending the summer in a cast and missing every single one of your performances. That’s what you got for wanting to have a fun, selfish summer for once in your life.

“Bunny, I don’t know how to tell you this in a nicer way — but it’s broken,” Eddie persisted, rummaging through the first aid kit for something to help with the pain.

“B-but the show…”

You said it quietly, but Lando heard. Your voice was heartbreaking.

It showed how much this meant to you, and he realised now that you were probably embarrassed. He drew parallels to his own life and career, and how much a clumsy mistake could leave its marks for a long time forward. Even if this was only a hobby, it was still important.

“I can wrap it up for you, but it won’t heal unless you go to a hospital,” he continued, not waiting for an answer before he began to gently move your foot.

You whimpered in pain, biting down on your lower lip to not scream as it shifted. Grasping for just about anything to hold on to, you found Lando’s hand. You didn’t have time to think it through, but Lando had a lifetime.

Your nails were painted black to match your costume, and your hand felt so small and cold in his own, yet you were strong as hell as you gripped his fingers in pain. He suffered through it, knowing that what you were feeling was a million times worse.

Eddie wrapped your ankle in a tight bandage. Lando could tell that he’d done it before. Some girl had found a bag of frozen peas in the staffroom freezer, that he then strapped over it to ease the pain. By the look on your face, it did absolutely nothing.

“I’ll drive you to A&E,” Lando offered without thinking twice. He could see Max some other time.

Then it was the trouble of getting you down the stage and out of the building. Eddie throwing you over his shoulder could’ve maybe worked, but you had this thing called dignity.

So, with one arm around Lando and the other one around Eddie, you hopped your way out of there on one foot, cursing Mother Earth herself every time you accidentally touched the ground with the injured one.

“You’re supposed to go to a UTC with broken bones,” you pointed out when you remembered it, feeling the need to correct Lando.

“You’ve broken a bone before?” Lando asked.

Eddie didn’t have to ask because he already knew about your history with hospitals.

“Twice. My wrist once from falling off a trampoline, and a finger from shutting a car door on it,” you explained.

“You’re a walking emergency, aren’t you?” Lando said, like he was joking.

It wasn’t really a joke to you anymore, though.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you mumbled, thinking he wouldn’t hear you.

But he did, and it got him thinking.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you got out to the parking lot. In your periphery, you could see how Eddie’s jaw dropped. A bright orange McLaren was not what you had expected to see, but then again, you couldn’t have said what you expected instead. The man was a Formula 1 driver, for Christ's sake.

Eddie kept his mouth shut, but the look he gave you said something along the lines of you have a lot to explain, young lady. You would have no idea how to explain how you ended up here, even if you wanted to tell him.

“Lando…” you said to get his attention. “I don’t think I can get in this car without it hurting like hell.”

“I borrowed it for the weekend. I didn’t think—” he stopped himself, unsure of how to continue.

I didn’t think you would break a bone and I’d have to drive you?

Yeah, no. He couldn’t say that.

“I was about to tell you to just shove me in the backseat, but it doesn’t even have one,” you tried to joke, earning small smiles from both Lando and Eddie.

Just as getting out of the building, slow and steady won the race. Only this time, you weren’t only cursing Mother Earth but Lando and Eddie too, blaming them for whenever your foot nudged something. You hoped they could take it lightheartedly because you weren’t angry or mad at them. You were angry at yourself.

“You, young man — take care of our best performer, okay?” Eddie said to Lando as he shut the door on your side.

You scoffed at his wording. He knew he didn’t need to take on the role as a protective older brother-like figure in your life, but you kind of liked it when he did. Lando probably met a lot of important and intimidating people with his choice of career, yet Eddie felt different. He had no actual influence, but he had a heart that cared for you. Lando couldn’t joke that away.

“I will, sir.”

The UTC was relatively calm for a Friday evening, so you didn’t have to wait long until you were rushed into a room to be assessed and treated. Nurse after nurse who saw your ankle said the same thing, get x-rays, evaluate, and hope it’s not surgical.

Lando didn’t say much, only helping you explain what had happened when your pain made you unable to form coherent sentences. He stayed by your side, though. You had half-expected him to leave as soon as you got there, making up some excuse about being busy.

But he never did.

You even had to convince him to leave to get your bag that you had left in his car. He was unsure about leaving you alone the first couple of times you mentioned it.

But you wanted to get your makeup off, and fix your hair which had been left a mess after you’d taken the wig off. You’d thought about that part, but the maid’s costume was still on your body. At least the nurses got a good laugh out of it — a barefoot, glittery maid with makeup smeared all over her face and a packet of peas strapped to her ankle.

When you were rolled off to get x-rays taken, Lando finally agreed to go outside and get it. It wasn’t like he was allowed to go with you anyway.

“Thank you,” you said as he handed you the bag. “The x-rays will take a while, but the doctor said it is most likely a simple fracture and I will only need a cast.”

You immediately took out a makeup wipe and a comb. The braids you had on under the wig were starting to feel very stiff, giving you a headache. Or maybe you were just tense because of all the other pain you were feeling.

“That’s good.” He nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Did they give you anything for the pain?”

You giggled a little, rolling your eyes, overplaying how loopy you were. “Can you already tell?”

“Just a little.” He pinched his fingers, showing just how little. “Do you want help with that?”

“You don’t have to—” you tried to tell him, but his hands had already undone one of the hair ties, his fingers moving gently to separate the braided hair.

He scooted behind you to reach better as you continued to take off the makeup, the wipe quickly turning a messy mixture of red and black with how much product was actually on your face. Stage makeup was no joke. His fingers through your hair sent shivers down your spine, but you tried not to think too much about it. He was just being nice. That’s all he’d been the entire evening.

“You probably have better things to do on a Friday night,” you mumbled.

Lando shook his head, and then he figured you couldn’t see it as he sat behind you.

“I called Oscar when I went out. He said he would tell your parents.”

“Parent. My mother’s not alive,” you whispered. “But that’s good, I guess. Did Oscar say anything else?”

You didn’t give Lando any time to think or ask about what you had said. That was on purpose. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway, with every possible sentence coming to mind feeling insensitive or way too pitiful.

“No, not really,” Lando replied.

That Oscar had made fun of him, for getting to play a knight in shining armour as you were a damsel in distress, was something he opted out of telling you.

“He didn’t say that this was typical of me?” you muttered, rubbing your face in obvious distress.

Lando was done undoing the braids so he could move to see your face again, seeing it streaky and glittery from you having wiped off the makeup without a mirror at hand. He reached for a clean wipe, his eyes silently asking you if it was okay if he helped.

“I just… I can’t fucking believe it.” You exhaled from your nose as he wiped your undereyes clean from glitter.

“It’s always like this,” you continued, showing frustration. “Whenever I’m about to accomplish something in life, I always get injured.”

“I don’t believe that—”

You cut him off by explaining, “Well, I fucked up my lungs right as I was about to graduate.”

“You didn’t fuck them up. Things like that just happen,” Lando interjected.

“I lost my voice on the second show the last time I did a musical. Had to give up a leading role for one that was just dancing, no singing,” you counter-argued, proving that it wasn’t just some one-time thing.

Lando looked at you, waiting to see if you could come up with more examples before he told you that it wasn’t fate that got you injured. They were coincidences.

“My wrist was broken when I took my A-level exams, that was hell on earth,” you said, raising a finger of conviction. “Oh, and I had appendicitis on my 18th birthday. Jasmine still hates me for that one because I ruined a girl’s trip.”

“Is there more?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

You snorted out a laugh as another one came to mind. “I got a nosebleed when I lost my virginity. It didn’t stop bleeding for like three hours.”

Lando pursed his lips to not laugh, but he couldn’t keep it in for long. “I’m sorry for laughing, but the picture in my head is really funny.”

In hindsight, it was quite funny. At the time, however, it was the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“I was going to say that probably everyone experiences these sort of setbacks, but… I don’t know anymore,” he tried to comfort.

“I think I might just be cursed, Lando,” you huffed, locking eyes with him again.

You both went quiet for a couple seconds as he took in your expression. A gaze so hollow, it didn’t matter that you were trying to hide it with a smile. The smile was blacked out anyway.

He didn’t understand how you could talk to him and reassure him without making it sound like you were second-guessing things, or ever feeling unsure of what your words meant — but as soon as the subject was switched to regard yourself, you were suddenly cold. Or not really cold at all, but just not as warm as you were when you talked about other people.

Your staring contest was interrupted by a young boy saying your name. A man came shortly after him into the small hospital room. Lando assumed it was your father and little brother, as he stood up from the bed to introduce himself. And to make some space between the two of you, since you were sitting suspiciously close together.

The boy got shy as soon as he saw Lando. He looked a lot like you, with the same coloured hair and the same big doe eyes, only he was clad in a green football kit. Your father was wearing a matching one to show support.

“Hi Matteo,” you called out as your brother walked past Lando to immediately get to you. He was like that — shy with people he didn’t know and anxious to talk to them. So you saved him, by talking to him as you saw Lando shake your father’s hand. That wasn’t awkward at all.

“How did the game go?” you asked, ruffling his sweaty hair as you invited him to sit next to you on the bed.

Matteo started talking, all excited about how they’d won and that he had gotten an assist. Pretty solid for a first game, he thought. You were mostly glad that he had a good time and that he seemed to get along well with the other boys on the team. He didn’t have it easy making friends because of his shyness.

Lando overheard the conversation, taking notice of how you had asked him how it went and not if he had won. It was those little things that made you different, made the way you talked to people so much more worth it. You were so fucking lovely, and you seemed to have no idea about it.

Your father had recognised him, but Lando couldn’t tell if that was only because of Oscar or if he cared about racing.

With your family there, Lando started to feel excessive. He couldn’t exactly argue his case for wanting to stay right there in front of you, and your father. He guessed it wasn’t too late to still catch up with Max, but a part of him almost didn’t want to do it.

No, he had to leave. He couldn’t explain his reason out loud.

As he said his goodbye, he met your eyes from his position in the doorway. He didn’t have much to say to you, or maybe he had so much to say that his brain couldn’t find what was most important. His shoes almost felt sticky against the sterile hospital flooring, something glueing him to the spot.

“Will I see you at Silverstone?” Lando decided to ask before leaving.

“Uh… maybe? I’ll have to talk to Oscar,” you said unsure, still sat in the bed with your arm around Matteo.

“Can I come this time?” he whispered, looking up at you.

You were shocked by his question. He’d never asked to come before. But it wasn’t really up to you if he could or not. It was always someone else getting you race passes, so you were in no position to be greedy.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort you out,” Lando hurried to say, seeing the uncertainty on your face.

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you… for everything.”

For showing up, for driving you, for staying. He’d done so much that he didn’t need to do. Maybe Jasmine was correct. Maybe he didn’t just see you as her friend that he had to be civil to. Or maybe, he’d been dealt really bad cards tonight and had no option but to comply. Otherwise, he would be seen as a complete dickhead.

Lando nodded, pursing his lips into a smile, staying in the doorway for a moment too long, before finally walking away. You didn’t notice him doing it, but someone else certainly did.

“Bunny…” your father said.

“Mm?” you mumbled, perking up your ears.

“Did that boy just linger in the doorway?”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Silverstone, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Are you avoiding me?”

Lando’s voice shocked you as he came up from behind. You’d seen him around during the day but kept your distance. You were technically his guest today, only ever having been invited by Oscar before. But you would be lying if you said that premise had made you more liberal with how you interacted with Lando. You stayed with Oscar and Jasmine, and your father and Matteo, because that was what you knew.

The paddock at Silverstone was a lot, even for you who had been to this rodeo before. Matteo and your dad, however, would fall asleep quickly tonight with how many new impressions they’d received today. You’d only managed to come on the Sunday, with you on crutches and Matteo being, well… Matteo. It was good enough of an experience anyway.

“No, there’s just a lot of people here to see you. I didn’t want to be a bother,” you explained, nervously laughing.

It was jam-packed with friends and family, sponsors, and celebrities. Every time he had a moment for himself, it could quickly turn into a meet-and-greet if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now, minutes before he had to make his way to the starting grid, it was finally sort of calm in the garage. You were standing in the viewing section, a papaya-coloured headset around your neck.

Lando shook his head and sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

You could not be a bother, even if you tried.

“So, it wasn’t a make-a-wish thing after you saw me fall on my face and break my ankle?”

“Would I’ve been your wish?” he asked, voice affected by laughter.

“No, sorry, I’d pick a broadway show over this any day,” you responded jokingly.

“How’s your ankle anyway?”

The cast and the crutches you were leaning on didn’t look too dramatic. It just looked like you had broken your ankle and were now dealing with it to the best of your ability.

“It’s healing just fine,” you nodded, leaning to rest on one crutch to show Lando your palm. “The worst thing right now is the heat and the crutches giving me callouses.”

As you reached out your hand, Lando couldn’t help but gently grab your fingers to take a closer look. He was practically holding your hand. Sure, you held his when Eddie was wrapping your foot, but you were in an immense amount of pain at the time. This was something different. The callouses weren’t even that bad.

Why was he holding your hand?

In the same moment you could overthink it, he let go.

“Have you been hopping around the paddock all day? You should’ve told me, I could’ve gotten you a golf cart or something,” Lando wondered, feeling kind of bad.

He hadn’t thought about your broken ankle when he’d asked you to come.

“It’s alright. Matteo’s been having a blast all day, so… thank you,” you shrugged.

You could deal with being uncomfortable for a day if it meant that Matteo got a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

His McLaren cap was signed, and he had ice cream in his belly. He’d even gotten a wave from Sir Lewis Hamilton himself, and if that wasn’t enough to make him school ground royalty for at least a week, you didn’t know what was. Maybe you took your big sister duty too seriously, but literally nothing could make you stop caring for that kid.

“And your dad?” Lando asked.

You looked over your shoulder to see what he was doing. With Matteo in front of him, practically hiding into his side, you could see him talking to someone and smiling. You understood that he was mostly doing this for you and Matteo, but there was some underlying fascination that middle-aged men had with fast cars that you knew he was trying to hide.

“He appears to be smiling, that’s always positive.”

“He’s talking to my dad,” he revealed. That wasn’t awkward at all.

Lando hesitated, unsure of asking you what was on his mind, but soon enough, words were falling out of his mouth anyway. You seemed to have that effect on him.

“I need to get ready, but can I see you afterwards? Maybe you can come back like you did in Melbourne.”

You smiled, agreeing before adding, “I’ll watch you get on the podium first.”

The race started with both Lando and Oscar in good positions, which probably led to a false sense of security. Your gut feeling was unsure of it all.

Matteo held on to your hand during the entire start, you could tell that it was mixed emotions of excitement and anxiety. His headset was big on his little head, and he looked positively adorable as he tried to understand what was going on.

“Lando is third right now,” you explained to him, pointing to a monitor. “And Oscar is fifth, you remember them, right?”

Matteo nodded. “Lando broke your foot, and Oscar talks funny.”

“I broke my own foot, but you’re right about Oscar,” you laughed.

It was you that had to hold onto Matteo for a moment during the race when it really looked like both Oscar and Lando had a chance at winning. But after some godawful strategic calls, you realised that the podium wasn’t as secure as you thought. Hamilton was steady in the lead, and Verstappen was chasing Lando like there was no tomorrow.

You were so focused on the leaders that you didn’t even realise what was happening at the bottom of the grid. Pictures of two cars making contact flashed over the screens, and Matteo tensed up beside you.

“What happened?” he worriedly asked, clinging to your arm. “Did they get hurt?”

“No, no, it was just a little love tap,” you reassured him. They probably didn’t even have any damage — that was how minimal it was. “Like when I reversed into grandma’s postbox.”

“That was you?” your dad laughed.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to watch the race,” you hushed him, eyes back on the leaderboard.

Verstappen ended up catching Lando. P3 was the bittersweet consolation prize that Lando would have to act like he was happy about. Parade around the podium, covered in champagne, as if he wasn’t completely gutted inside. You could see on his face that he was acting happy as they celebrated. He wasn’t that good of an actor, if you were to be honest.

If only they had put on different tyres for his last stint.

Afterwards, you made your way back to his driver’s room — just as he’d asked. You could have overthought that question a million times, but you decided to just go for it. It was crowded with people, both staff and guests, rushing to congratulate him. Or maybe to comfort him. Your guess would be on the latter.

At last, the hallway cleared, and you hopped to stand in the doorway, finally seeing him.

“P3, baby!” you joked cheerfully.

Lando stared at you blankly, shaking his head as he snorted out a laugh.

“Yeah, no, that was frustrating to watch. I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

He had no words. Already having had to put on such a fake façade to everyone else he had met after the race. He didn’t want to do that to you. So, he ended up speechless.

“Should I leave you alone?” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“No!” he hurried to say. “Uhm… please, sit.”

With some struggle, you managed to sit next to him on the bench in his room. Much like Melbourne. It was, however, a lot more difficult to move in the little room while on crutches.

He sighed as you sat down, helping you rest the crutches against the wall so they wouldn’t fall to the floor. His racing suit was halfway off and filled the room with a scent of champagne. You tried to look him in the eye, but ended up focusing on how his helmet had left red imprints on his cheeks — like a gorgeous mark of endurance.

“I just… I don’t know what to say, or what to feel. It’s always so fucking close, and then I lose it.” Lando’s voice was stern and measured, his face blank.

It was a forced expression, though. He could cry if his tear ducks would’ve allowed him to. Some mental barrier stopped him from doing it. He almost wanted to do it so that you would see his true emotions.

Your heart broke a little, seeing him be so harsh on himself. Because, with your mentality, he had just done something miraculous. He’d done something mere mortals couldn’t accomplish.

“I’m impressed you get out of that car alive every weekend, so I might be the wrong person to complain to,” you softly told him.

Lando had heard those sorts of words before, how he was superhuman for even getting in the car. He’d felt the same way when he started, and maybe he’d lost that initial spark he used to have.

Your words didn’t mean that you didn’t want him to complain. He should vent, to the people that it mattered to. Get it out of his system, so that he could be sensible in front of the media.

It was funny how the sport worked that way. That he was somehow less happy in third, than Sargeant was in eleventh. That the people on the second and third steps of the podium were the biggest losers. And, they were expected to be robotic about it, otherwise, they would be deemed erratic and emotional.

What was the crime in being emotional anyway?

“I think you drove a perfect race,” you complimented him. “And then I think there were some strategic… mishaps that you’re not to blame for. Overall, this race was like the coolest one I’ve ever witnessed, and Oscar didn’t even get a podium. He’s my favourite driver!”

You tried so hard to get him to laugh again, but he wouldn’t budge. He had to tell himself not to. It actually kind of annoyed him that Oscar was your favourite. He knew he didn’t know you well enough to be your favourite, yet.

“I don’t get how you’re not proud of yourself,” you finally sighed, gesticulating with your hands as you spoke. “You have every right to be proud, annoyingly so.”

Lando knew he had to let his guard down. That was the only way he would feel better about this. This wasn’t like Australia, when it hadn’t been his fault for the bad result. He’d still blamed himself, but let it go after a couple of hours. This time, a good result was somehow his fault. It was insane, the mental game he was playing with himself. And he couldn’t let this go without talking it through.

“I’ll be that later, I just need to feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours first,” he scoffed.

It was Silverstone, after all. He’d gotten a podium on home soil. That was an accomplishment to be proud of. Last year, he was over the moon over his Silverstone race, but maybe that was because the car hadn’t been that great. This time he had a great car, but was somehow a worse driver. It didn’t make any sense to him.

His spiralling thoughts were stopped when he heard his phone continuously vibrate from the other side of the room, somewhere hidden under a pile of clothes.

“Are people blowing up your phone with congratulations?” you asked amusingly.

“No, it’s the PR team,” he said as he looked over his notifications, a confused look on his face. “We’ve gone viral again. It looks like I held your hand when you showed me the callouses from the crutches.”

You did technically hold my hand, was what you wanted to say. You decided that staying quiet felt better.

Lando regretted his wording as soon as he said it. He held your hand in a garage filled with cameras. He knew that. He was to blame for that. But was any harm done?

“I don’t get how it’s always with you that it happens,” he mumbled nervously.

He sat back down beside you, giving you a view of his phone screen. The photos were cute, if you were to be honest. But also blurry and obviously taken by someone who wanted to be sneaky.

“Always? Meaning once before?” you questioned.

That showed how little you were on social media. You didn’t know about anything other than the video from Melbourne.

“No, there were also photos of me at the hospital when you broke your ankle,” Lando explained.

The photos had been everywhere. He, and that orange car, at a hospital parking lot on a Friday evening. It was quite the headline for news outlets and gossip accounts.

“Oh…” you said, visibly surprised. “I’m so sorry if it caused you problems to be seen with a girl in a slutty maid costume.”

For a second there, Lando could watch you go through the five stages of grief, all through your facial expressions.

“You weren’t in the photos. It was just me and that… obnoxious car when I went back to get your bag,” he quickly added, calming your nerves.

You nodded understandingly, feeling yourself get less tense. “Did you have to explain it to anyone?”

“Thankfully not, I’m such a bad liar.”

What would he need to lie about?

Then you realised that someone like him probably couldn't just say that they drove a friend who had injured themselves. That would only lead to a million more questions. And, if he had said something — people would’ve been able to put two and two together as you showed up to the paddock with a cast and crutches. Maybe he was protecting you.

You didn’t know what else to say to him now, meeting his bright eyes once again. They had this way of shining, even though he was sad. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but you were starting to wonder if you’d overstayed your welcome.

Then Lando spoke again, his voice in a happier tone. “Has Jasmine mentioned Italy to you?”

“Monza?”

“No, now before Hungary,” he replied. “Oscar and I have to represent McLaren at some charity auction, and I thought about inviting you as my plus one so that Jasmine doesn’t have to be alone if we have to work a lot.”

The invitation was carefully phrased, and you recognised that. If you had been more sure about Jasmine’s ridiculous idea that Lando liked you, you would’ve made fun of him for dragging in Jasmine in his way of asking you to come with him.

“Oh,” you mused. “I’d be a fool to say no, but there has to be other people that you’d rather go with.”

Lando looked at you in confusion.

“Like, don’t invite me just to do Jasmine a favour,” you continued.

He finally broke into a smile, not being able to contain it anymore. You were clueless, and Lando found that hilarious. “It’s not like I hate your company, y’know?”

You chuckled. You hadn’t expected him to say something so direct.

“Can I talk to Jazz about it first, before I decide?”

Lando nodded softly. “Sure, I mean, the invite is yours anyway. If you don’t want to come, I’ll just go alone.”

You turned quiet again, looking him in the eyes as you took in what he’d said. The invitation was yours. He hadn’t ever thought of bringing someone else. Maybe he truly was doing Jasmine a favour. Maybe this was him sneakily making a move. He’d have to be a lot more upfront for you to catch on, though.

A tension settled over the room, an eternity passing without anyone saying anything. The mood switched, and you both could tell. It was probably time for you to leave, yet the expectation to say that last little thing was there. The little thing that would leave him feeling better about himself. You wanted to linger in the doorway, or linger on the bench, you guessed. You wanted to say so much more.

Oscar intruded by softly knocking on the already open door.

“Oscar, hi!” you squeaked out of surprise, straightening your back to make space between you and Lando.

“Your dad’s looking for you,” he explained, chuckling.

“I guess I better go,” you said, standing up, finding balance with the help of your crutches. “You both should be proud of yourselves today, or every day for that matter.”

Lando looked down at the floor as you left. He knew that whatever face Oscar put on or whatever sentence he formed, it would accuse Lando of being down bad for you.

“Did you invite her to Italy?”

“Yeah, she said she’ll talk to Jazz about it,” Lando mumbled, hiding his smile.

You hadn’t immediately said yes, but that was almost his plan by dragging Jasmine into it. She wasn’t even supposed to come with them to Italy at first. But Lando wanted the four of them to do it together. It was a foolproof plan to get to spend some more time with you that wasn’t in a paddock nor in a hospital.

“On another note,” Oscar said while he remembered it. “How the hell did you get her dad to come to a race?”

“I don’t know… I just sent Bunny three passes?”

“I’ve invited him to races since I was in F3 and he’s never once shown up,” Oscar began explaining.

Lando scrunched his nose, unsure of where Oscar was going with his reasoning.

“He’s a good man, funny even — but he does not like racing, at all,” he continued.

Was Lando being stupid for not getting Oscar’s point? Lando couldn’t tell if he was being stupid. He probably was.

Then, it finally clicked for Oscar. “You don’t know how her mum died, do you?”

Lando could do nothing but slowly shake his head, his mouth slightly open out of confusion. He could tell that Oscar hesitated to tell him. Maybe he shouldn’t be telling your story, but he trusted Lando.

“Alone, in a car crash. She died on impact. Bunny was 15 or so when it happened,” Oscar said gently, his face showing pity with a downturned smile. “Her dad has always told her not to come to races, in case someone crashes and it brings up bad memories for her.”

Now, Lando was definitely being stupid, because it still didn’t click for him. It made him understand your mentality more — that you’d said you were impressed he got out of that car alive every weekend. Because you had, close up, lived through someone not making it out of a car — a car going nowhere near as fast. But what did that have to do with your father attending a race?

“I think Bunny must’ve convinced him to come see you, specifically,” Oscar finally said.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lombardia, Italia

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” you sighed, looking from the balcony out to the beautiful garden.

Fruit trees, pink oleander, and pungent lavender. Beautiful limestone houses. It looked picturesque, like something out of a movie. Yet, you were unsure if you belonged there.

“You’re spending the weekend in an Italian villa. That is what you’re doing,” Jasmine insisted, wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

The house was gorgeous. The area was gorgeous. Everything was just perfect. And you felt undeserving of it. You’d gotten to take off your cast just in time for the trip. This was your moment to be selfish this summer.

So, why the hell did you keep on questioning yourself?

“You’d have no stories to tell from this summer if it wasn’t for this trip. You need things to talk about when you go back to university, otherwise, you’ll make no new friends,” she then pointed out.

You hadn’t even thought of that. All your other friends had graduated. You still had six months of classes left because of your stupid lungs. You didn’t want to make new friends. You wanted to keep your old ones.

You crossed your arms, looking up at your best friend with a pout. “I’ll let you know that me and Jane Austen have had a riveting summer thus far in my dad’s hammock.”

Doing just about anything with a broken ankle was impossible, so reading in the garden it was.

“While you travel the world and go to races, I will always entertain you with hilarious Goodreads reviews,” you added.

Jasmine shook her head disapprovingly. “I really don’t need to know even more nasty things that you would do to Mr. Darcy.”

Deep down, you knew she got a giggle out of getting a notification on her phone with a five star review only saying Mr. Darcy could raw me and nothing more.

“Isn’t this going to be awkward though? It’s like we’re double dating all weekend!”

“Would that be so bad?” Jasmine laughed, thinking that it was probably Lando’s plan all along.

You realised quite quickly that Lando hadn’t lied about them having to work. During the day, they were off to the manor house that was hosting the auction, doing lord knows what. It was something about cars being auctioned off and sucking up to millionaires.

You didn’t understand why this type of event even existed. It felt like the 2011 classic Monte Carlo with Selena Gomez. That was at least your only experience with auctions for rich people.

While this one was for charity, it still only felt like a way for these millionaires to seem humble. They would’ve bought the cars anyway, it was only for their own conscience that the charities even mattered. Maybe you were being harsh.

You and Jasmine at least got to spend some quality time with each other in the villa. You ate a long breakfast, cycled down to the city centre to try odd flavours of gelato, and went into cute little boutiques to find her a pair of heels to wear with her gown for the auction.

Your dress was black, and so were your heels. That was how fun you were going to be.

Truth be told, it was a prom dress that you hadn’t gotten to wear because of covid, so maybe you were a little excited to get all dolled up tomorrow night.

When the boys got home for the day, they decided you all should take the bikes to a nearby lake. You didn’t have much of a say, packing a basket with antipasti for dinner. It was unbearably hot even though the sun had started to settle, so maybe going for a swim wasn’t the worst thing.

As the four of you swooshed down Italian country roads on rusty borrowed bikes, Lando and you ended up in front of Jasmine and Oscar, going much faster than they did. Everything wasn’t a race, but some things definitely were.

Oscar cycled closer to his girlfriend, asking her a question he’d been dying to ask all day. “Do we tell them something about how they are both madly infatuated with each other or will they figure it out on their own?”

“I tried to tell Bunny, but she wouldn’t believe me. It’s like she doesn’t understand that people still find her attractive after she got sick,” Jasmine said.

She didn’t know if she should sigh or laugh at your behaviour recently. She understood that your life had changed completely, but falling in love, or even just dating, shouldn’t be something to be scared about. Not when you had a boy acting like a fool right in front of your eyes.

“So, we let Lando try and awkwardly flirt with her by himself? And watch Bunny be clueless about it?” Oscar laughed

“He has to be upfront at some point, right?” she responded.

They probably wouldn’t have to wait long until Lando would scream in your face that he liked you. He had no filter left when it came to you.

The lake was small, surrounded by a pebble beach. The water looked almost artificially teal, like natural sources of water tended to do. You’d never been to Italy before, but it was quickly becoming one of your favourite destinations. It was idyllic in ways you couldn’t have dreamt of.

You threw the bikes in the grass and put out your beach towels close to the water. Feeling the pebbles under your bare feet and the sweet smell of sunscreen, you and Jasmine started to pack up your picnic basket.

There were almost no other people there, only seeing a family with children taking an evening swim on the other side of the lake.

After eating a little, the boys tested the water, groaning about how cold it was, yet somehow getting in anyway. You still didn’t know what they had done during the day, but with their lifestyles, you guessed they always needed to find ways to relax.

Jasmine rested on her towel with her nose in a book, recognising it as one you had rated highly on Goodreads. See, you knew she loved your reviews. She mumbled something about how the protagonist reminded her of you when you asked her if she was enjoying it. You took that as a good sign.

You went down to the waterside, only dipping your toes in before deciding that it was way too cold for you to want to swim in it. Instead, you crouched down to look at the rocks, all round and polished from the water, in pretty green and coral shades. You’d already gotten Matteo a local football shirt as a souvenir, but you could definitely fit some cool rocks in your suitcase as well.

Lando, zoning out from whatever Oscar was talking about next to him in the still water, tried to secretly keep his eye on you. He could catch a glimpse of a bright red bikini underneath the long, sheer white shirt you had on. His fondness had grown so large that even watching you pick pebbles warmed his heart. Or maybe that was the bikini’s doing.

Jasmine could watch it all happen through the darkness of her sunglasses, having lost focus from her book. She furrowed her brows with concern. “Bunny, aren’t you warm?”

Your hand subconsciously traced the edge of the your shirt collar, a faint smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, but I’ll scare the children away if I show the scar on my chest,” you replied, your tone light yet tinged with an undercurrent of insecurity.

“It’s not that bad,” she said, promising, her eyes meeting yours as she tipped down her shades.

You laughed a little in disbelief. “You haven’t seen it since they reopened it.” You were talking so loud that the boys in the water definitely could hear you. “I also hate touching it, so I don’t want to put sunscreen on.”

Jasmine remembered the first time she saw your scar, a jagged reminder of the surgery that had saved your life. A long red line, right on your sternum, that had faded over time. But she hadn’t seen the new scar, the one left by the recent, unexpected procedure.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” Jasmine urged, getting up from the towel, a bottle of sunscreen in her hand. “Get your shirt off and I’ll do it.”

She knew you well enough to push you to do it. You would never get over this mental hurdle without people telling you that you looked fine. People had scars. That was the way life worked.

You sighed, slowly fumbling with the shirt buttons as you tried to decipher Jasmine’s reaction. “See? It’s awful.”

She shook her head, trying to keep a neutral face. It was worse than she thought, but she could never tell you that, because it hurt more than it helped. And it wasn’t like the scar tainted your entire being. You were still a gorgeous woman, in Baywatch-esque red bikini. That was an unstoppable combo.

“It’s really not bad. It needs some more time to fade, that’s all,” Jasmine reassured you, having no problem with touching the uneven skin to apply sunscreen.

You didn’t want to look at her hand as she did it, so you looked out over the lake, catching Lando’s surprisingly… odd gaze as he stood in the water next to Oscar.

You hadn’t wanted to stare too much at him earlier, knowing that your head would get messed up if you saw him shirtless in swim shorts. But now, you couldn’t disregard the look on his face.

“Lando, I saw that look. Just tell me that it’s bad,” you said, clearly still frustrated over the entire thing.

Lando was shocked you were talking to him, struggling to find the words.

“He’s staring at your tits, it’s totally different,” Oscar suddenly said, having kept quiet for too long.

You almost didn’t know if you had heard him correctly, but Jasmine’s ringing laughter told you that it was true. Lando sternly said Oscar’s name before drenching him in water, a playful fight breaking out between the two of them, overshadowing what had just happened.

That didn’t mean it left your mind, though.

It was dark by the time you got back to the villa, stars hanging above you in the night sky. You knew it was the same sky as you had home in England, yet there was something much more magical about it this time.

Jasmine and Oscar went to bed, but you had a few things to prepare for the auction. You wanted to paint your nails and do a face mask; maybe even get in an everything-shower to save time tomorrow.

The night was still warm as you made your way out to the balcony in your nightgown, deciding that you might as well take advantage of the view while you painted your nails. The balcony felt like a secluded little sanctuary, bathed in a soft glow from the outdoor lighting and wafting in the breeze of the Italian countryside.

Behind you, the glass door slid open with a soft creak, and you turned to see Lando stepping out onto the balcony, carrying what looked like a cup of tea. You’d thought he was asleep, the villa eerily quiet.

He had an easy confidence about him — something you admired. Clad in a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, the kind that looked threadbare and like the most comfortable fabric ever. His eyes silently asked you if it was okay for him to join you, and you nodded. He sat down across from you at the outdoor dining table.

“Orange?” Lando asked softly, seeing the colour of the nail polish.

“I thought it was papaya,” you joked, biting your tongue to not get it on your cuticles as you continued to paint. “I bought it for Silverstone but forgot to wear it.”

Lando didn’t care. At least he told himself that he didn’t. You were just representing his team by carefully painting your nails orange. There was no need to get all mushy inside because of it. It wasn’t like it was permanent. Only a week or so of you thinking of him every time you saw your own hands. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe you didn’t think of him.

“I should’ve told you earlier, but you look great today,” he said like it was nothing, raising his cup to take a sip.

He could tell that you were slightly baffled, a line forming between your eyebrows as you scrunched your nose in disbelief. “Scar and all?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Oscar had maybe been right about what Lando was looking at when you had asked him about the scar. They had overheard the entire conversation you had with Jasmine, so when he caught a glimpse of the scar, he had imagined something much worse. It truly wasn’t that bad. It at least didn’t steal his attention when you were standing in front of him in a bikini.

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence filled only by the sounds of the night. Cicadas, a distant car, and birds chirping. Lights from neighbouring houses twinkled like scattered diamonds.

“I don’t know if you wanted me to know, but Oscar told me about your mother,” Lando’s voice trembled, confessing it to you. His eyes searched your face for a reaction, a mixture of concern and vulnerability painted across his features.

You stared down at your painted nails, adding one last stroke before closing the bottle of polish. You were scared to look at him, unsure of how this conversation would play out.

“It’s not really a secret, just a hard thing to tell people,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You somehow felt the warmth from Lando’s body even though there was a table’s length between you. His presence wasn’t uncomfortable to you, but the conversation certainly was.

“Don’t pity me like I’m some motherless child. It’s really not that bad,” you continued, trying to keep your composure, the familiar ache in your chest making it hard to breathe.

In moments like these, it was like you could feel your scar glowing, how the tight skin wanted to rip right open to help you take full breaths.

A flicker of frustration crossed Lando’s face.

He hated how you had said it — how you tried to downplay everything that had happened in your life. He understood that it was your way of coping, but your entire being basically screamed for the emotions to be let out. You were hypocritical, and he was tired.

“It’s allowed to be bad. You were the one that told me that in Australia. You’re allowed to feel bad about things that are shit,” he insisted, his voice carrying a firmness that contrasted with the tenderness in his eyes.

His raw honesty sliced through your defenses. Your view of him blurred as tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Clearing your throat, you calmed yourself down.

Lando wasn’t actually frustrated with you. It was more at the circumstances. He didn’t want to push you, and you didn’t want to upset him. It was just a very difficult conversation to have.

“Do you ever have nightmares about crashing?” you asked, whispering.

“No, not really,” he admitted.

If he was thinking about what might go wrong all the time, he wouldn't be able to continue driving. Racing showed some people horrible fates of life. The abundant success that could be archived was harvested by others.

It was all about finding a balance, about showing respect for the thing they put themselves through, but also overcoming it by showing no fear.

Maybe it was different for you, Lando thought. Maybe you had already given in to the fear, because you’d get no success out of it no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t get your mum back anyway.

You took a deep breath before confessing. “I do. All the time.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The early morning sun filtered through his bedroom windows as Lando got out of bed. He’d slept like a king. The countryside was so quiet compared to Monaco and the cities he raced in. He stretched as he drew back the curtains, getting a view of the garden, and you.

The conversation you had yesterday had left the both of you unsatisfied. Yet, neither wanted to push the other to really get to the bottom of the problem,

This morning, however, you were waltzing through the garden on bare feet, a big bowl in one hand and a small ladder in the other one. The summer dress you were wearing blew with the breeze. You looked free. And slightly out of your mind, climbing a ladder to reach the fruit trees, without anyone keeping an eye on you.

Not that you needed supervision, but climbing a ladder could be dangerous. That was what Lando told himself as he rushed outside.

“Oh god, please don’t fall down,” he said, voice laced with concern as he almost ran through the garden to get to you, keeping his steady hands on the ladder.

You glanced down at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “It’s a stepladder, Lando. I’m one metre above the ground,” you reassured him.

“Still, you should be careful,” he insisted.

“I’ll break your nose if you look up my dress,” you warned. You weren’t serious, but Lando felt his cheeks flush anyway. “Do you want one?” you asked, referring to the fruit you were picking.

“What is it even?”

“I thought peaches at first, but they’re not hairy. Not small enough to be apricots but maybe hard enough to be nectarines, so that would be my guess.”

You examined the fruit as you stepped down from the ladder, tossing one in the air before catching it again and placing it in the bowl.

“Are you sure you’re still talking about fruit?”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at the innuendo.

You picked up a nectarine and took a bite, the sweet juice dribbling down your chin. “I made breakfast, but I assume you’re on the same diet as Oscar?” you asked, voice muffled by the mouthful of fruit.

Lando stared at you in awe, taking way too long before nodding.

“Well then, I guess you can watch me eat while you stick to oatmeal,” you replied playfully.

As the sun rose above the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the cosy balcony, you and Lando sat by the outdoor furniture, eating your breakfast. The air filled with a scent of fresh coffee and the sweet nectarines. You ate them with yoghurt and honey, and Lando was totally jealous.

You didn’t say much to each other. It wasn’t really necessary. The world around you started to wake up, but on that little balcony, it felt like time had slowed down just for you two.

Lando turned to you, curiosity in his eyes. “Why do people call you Bunny?” He’d wanted to ask you that for quite some time.

“It’s quite a sad story, to be honest,” you began, swallowing what was left of your breakfast.

He almost regretted his question immediately. He hadn’t even thought about how a cute nickname like yours could be from a sad memory. You watched as Lando’s expression softened, his eyes encouraging you to continue.

“Matteo stayed a lot at our grandparent’s house after mum died, because… well, life happened,” you explained, your orange fingernails tracing the rim of your coffee mug. “Since he was so young, he hadn’t really understood the fact that I was his sister, so I instead became the girl he would visit from time to time who owned a pet bunny.”

Lando leant his elbows on the table, captivated by your way of talking, his interest piqued.

“And Bunny was easier for him to pronounce than my actual name,” you continued, a faint smile forming on your lips.

“You had a bunny?”

“Yeah, his name was Taco,” you laughed, your smile growing more genuine.

He chuckled softly at the name. You would name a pet Taco, that was just the kind of person you were.

“Do you like having it as a nickname?” Lando inquired, his tone gentle again.

“I don’t mind it,” you shook your head. “Matteo doesn’t say it anymore, but it’s… it’s different when other people say it.”

It’s different when you say it, Lando.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“You’re drooling, mate,” Oscar’s voice laughed from behind him as they got out of the cars.

“I am not,” Lando protested, but Oscar only shook his head.

He wasn’t fooling anyone as he watched you and Jasmine step out on the front porch, dressed to the nines, ready for the auction.

Oscar and him had picked up the two cars that were being auctioned off while you got ready. It was important that they were seen driving the cars up to the manor house as they arrived, and you and Jasmine were supposed to be arm candy. It felt both below and above your worth.

You laughed as you saw the cars, shiny and polished McLaren’s. You didn’t care enough to know the models, you just knew they were worth millions.

Jasmine walked down to Oscar with ease in her high heels, a beautiful burnt orange satin gown on her body. You watched as he greeted her with a kiss, feeling both a sense of pride and also some loneliness in your stomach.

Your feet already hurt from your own heels. Something wasn’t entirely right since you broke your ankle, but you would have to suffer through it.

Lando walked up to the porch, casually keeping his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted black suit. The white shirt he had on underneath probably had one too many buttons undone. Not that you were complaining, it looked gorgeous in contrast with his tan skin. He looked gorgeous.

You were dressed in all black, apart from your orange nail polish. Your gown with a perfectly poofy tulle skirt and a flattering balconette corset top. You looked delectable, and Lando had a hard time hiding that.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said seriously to him.

“Like what?” Lando replied, feigning innocence as he took your hand to help you down the front porch stairs.

Like you’re falling in love with me.

“Like this is some early 2000s rom-com and I’m the nerdy girl who’s just gotten a makeover by a more popular girl,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He gave a genuine laugh, the kind that could only bring a smile to your face. He wanted to respond with some cliché statement about how it was only fitting since you looked like a movie star, but he remained silent.

Lando helped you into the car like a real gentleman, while Oscar and Jasmine got into the other one. The drive was two minutes at most.

“Did you have a dress like that lying around?” he asked, fastening his seatbelt.

You nodded, moving your hands over your lap to smooth out the fabric. “It’s a prom dress that I never got to use because of covid.”

A spark lit up in Lando’s eyes. “I never got to have a prom either, y’know.”

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of missed milestones hanging heavy in the air. You assumed it was because he hadn’t really gone to school like a normal kid, too busy with karting. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, Lando revved the engine.

“Come on, let’s treat this night like prom.”

The manor house was bigger than anything you’d ever seen before. You couldn’t grasp it — the multiple stories, the annex buildings, the beautiful and meticulous gardens. It was all too much for you.

Lando pulled up to park the car next to the grand entrance, handing the keys to the valet before coming to open the door for you. You were met with camera flashes as soon as you stepped out. It wasn’t paparazzi, thank god — only photographers hired for the event.

Lando didn’t dare to hold your hand in front of the cameras, this time. He settled with a hand on your lower back as you made your way inside after Jasmine and Oscar.

The auction was held in a grand hall — no, a conservatory. It had a glass roof. It was filled with decorations, floral arrangements, and candle lights. A stage was built by the end of the room, which you assumed would be where they auctioned things off.

It was also filled with people, dressed in sharp suits and colourful gowns. It looked photoshopped with how perfect it was. Not a thing out of place nor a person behaving oddly. Except for you, of course. You did not belong here.

“What are they compensating for? Tiny cocks?” you whispered for only Jasmine to hear as you took in the room. This was bonkers.

“The tiniest of cocks,” she snorted under her breath.

Oscar and Lando did have to work — work the room that was, mingling and sucking up to people with big wallets.

You and Jasmine made your way around as well, albeit much slower and with less intention. You talked to some people, drank some champagne, and eyed the canapés being served around. It didn’t look like anyone was eating, so you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You already were. So, now you were both odd and starving.

You also eyed the objects up for auction. It was jewellery, cars, and destination vacations in places you’d never heard of. All in favour of some charity that was hardly mentioned once. Was this just a rich person shopping spree without the guilt of overconsumption?

Lando kept looking across the room for you, his eyes always seeming to find you within seconds. And you found him to, sharing smiles or joking faces, saying get me out of here.

It wasn’t possessive — it was more of a secret bond that existed right there in time and space, going unnoticed by everyone but the two of you.

The bond was broken when a man approached you. Lando didn’t recognise him, but he already despised him. He was flirting with you; that would be obvious to anyone but you. You didn’t necessarily look uncomfortable. It seemed more like you found the conversation he tried to have with you pointless.

You were so oblivious to the impact you had on men, or maybe on all people in general. It made him want to set himself on fire. The itchy feeling inside of him, telling him to scream for everyone in the room to hear — that you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And that you should be talking to him, and only him. Not some suave-looking asshole in an ill-fitting suit. God, you made him stupid. More stupid than normal.

As Lando’s thoughts spiralled, you somehow got out of the conversation, swiftly making your way across the room and out of a door that he thought led to the garden. Or one of the gardens. This place was huge.

He had things to do inside, people to talk to — but for a moment, he came to his senses and said fuck it. He needed to know if you were alright.

His assumption that the door led to a garden was correct. The evening light cast a silvery glow over it, a tranquil contrast to the busy ballroom. From a distance, he saw you take a seat in an old stone gazebo, covered with ivy. You bent down to unclasp your heels.

Lord, was he about to risk it all.

His steps over the gravel path made you hear him, and he couldn’t help but feel busted.

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

You shook your head, gesturing with your hand to the space beside you. He sat down, shyly looking at his hands in his lap. On the bench, he saw what he thought was the reason you had come out here, besides that man talking to you. Dessert. Two of them in little ramekins, but only one spoon.

Lando breathed in the silence before hastily asking you what had been on his mind.

“Who was the man you were talking to?”

“Some stuck up think-tank-bitcoin-billionaire,” you huffed. “He asked me if my company was up for auction.”

It wasn’t company as in a business. It was company as in your time of day. Or time of night more likely. He was asking to spend the night with you. Would audibly gagging be too improper of a reaction? Lando had to fight himself to not do it.

“What was your answer?” he wondered, trying to keep his cool.

Your lips turned into a smug smile. “That it’s free for people who deserve it, and then I walked away.”

Lando chuckled, liking the fact that you showed a sense of pride with your actions. “Do I deserve your company?”

“Haven’t asked you to leave yet, that should tell you something,” you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders.

Lando nodded, scrunching his nose, a pink tint on his cheeks forming from the crisp air.

No, he was blushing. It wasn’t even cold outside.

“Have you had fun otherwise?” He cleared his throat, making the conversation about something else.

“I don’t know. I feel like a fraud, like I don’t belong,” you shrugged, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I think I might have convinced multiple people in there that I’m a communist, just because I was raised with a working-class perspective on things.”

Lando suppressed his laughter for it to not be too loud. You saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“This entire thing just feels performative to me,” you added.

“Oh, it totally is,” he agreed.

You glanced back at the manor, hearing the sound of voices in the distance. Your face reflected a mixture of amazement and discomfort. “And don’t get me started on the way people look,” you began again. “My mascara smudged and my dress got wrinkled the minute I stepped into that humid room, yet everyone else continues to look flawless.”

Lando thought about interrupting you, saying that you still looked flawless to him. Or maybe you didn’t, and that was the best part. He understood your point fully, though.

You shook your head as you continued, a bitter sigh escaping your lips. “And I can’t walk in heels since I broke my ankle, and my dress shows my scar, and I’m just… being a miserable little twat.”

You dropped your shoulders, looking down at your bare feet as your heels were on the ground next to them. It hadn’t even crossed Lando’s mind, the shoes nor the scar, but it made sense that you didn’t feel confident about it. That he thought you should be confident wouldn’t exactly change your mind.

“Oh! And they don’t eat,” you hastily pointed out. “They just hold the food and look pretty.”

That was definitely true. He knew that you couldn’t eat yourself full at functions like this. His own empty stomach was a testament to that.

“Is that why you came out here with two desserts and one spoon?” he questioned, containing his laughter to not come across as judgmental.

You giggled. “Have you seen Amélie?”

Lando shook his head no.

“It’s a movie. It doesn’t really matter, but one of the main character’s favourite things in life is cracking the sugar on a crème brûlée, and I… think I agree with that,” you explained, grabbing one of the ramekins and carefully smashing the caramelised surface.

It made a slight sound. Your eyes lit up as you looked at it. “See? Did you hear that?”

He couldn’t help but grin at your reaction.

“Try the other one,” you urged, handing him the spoon.

He had tried crème brûlée before but never in this way. Never with someone telling him about how it was the best thing in life. As he cracked the sugar, he laughed so hard he felt his chest vibrate.

He knew he couldn’t eat the dessert because of his diet, but seeing you take a spoonful was almost satisfactory enough.

“Your mind is so… special,” he smiled in disbelief. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore, he just knew he needed you to hear it. “I don’t get how the universe could’ve created you.”

Your smile faded as your laughter turned quiet. “Is that a compliment?”

“In the highest form, Bunny,” Lando insisted.

He didn’t know how to read your reaction, your sudden silence was a shock for him. Had he ruined a perfect moment by saying too much? That’s when he saw it, the tears pooling in your waterline as you fought with yourself to not let them fall.

Lando was a soft mess in seconds. “A-are you crying because I complimented you?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to laugh but your voice came out hoarse.

“Don’t cry, it’s alright,” Lando said softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away from your face, gently cupping your cheek with his palm.

He crossed a line as he did, moving closer to you than ever before.

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

“I just…” You were full on crying now. “I have no idea who I am, and this environment really showed me that.”

Your lack of confidence broke his heart. Things had really piled up on top of each other to now finally get to you. A stupid auction being your downfall, the thing that made you realise how much your life had put you through.

“I can’t get a degree, I can’t do musicals, and I definitely cannot fit in here. I have no way of being the girl that you want me to be, Lando,” you sobbed, your breathing picking up as your hands gesticulated out of pure panic.

Your words hung heavy over the garden, suffocatingly, as you honestly believed them to be painfully true.

“Hey… don’t say that,” Lando tried to comfort, grabbing ahold of your hands to stop you moving, centering your focus. “You have no idea what I want from you.”

“I want to hear you laugh at my stupid jokes. I want to feel your painted nails when you hold my hand. I want to see you get all giddy over a crème brûlée,” he listed things as they came to mind.

The warmth from his hands surrounded you as you let yourself relax, exhaling loudly.

“I want you to linger in every possible goddamned doorway you can find,” Lando continued, looking you deeply in the eyes. “That’s all. Nothing more.”

You were so close that he could see how colours reflected in your eyes. He liked you in ways he didn’t know was possible — for the little things that he’d never thought about before with other people. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. He didn’t want to think clearly. Lando hesitated, his eyes searching yours, as if seeking permission.

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

He scanned your face, his gaze finally landing on your lips. You were waiting for him to move, for him to lean in, because you were too scared to do it yourself. But you wanted him to do it. You wanted it more than anything else.

But all of a sudden, the lust in his expression turned into concern, and you felt something wet drip down on your upper lip. Blood.

“Oh, fuck.” Your hands flew to your face, trying to stop the blood from dripping further.

Of course this would happen now. You were cursed, after all. What were you thinking? A pretty boy could not just kiss you. The universe had decided that happiness wasn’t for you.

“Let me help—” Lando said, trying to get a hold of you to stay still, but you had already stood up.

You moved to pick up your shoes, and Lando sat frozen in his spot. “I’m gonna walk back to the villa, you stay and do your rich person duties,” your voice cracked as you said it, taking a step back to avoid his proximity. You had panic written all over your face and blood on your hands.

Lando’s emotions finally caught up with him as he too stood up to try and stop you. “Bunny, please! Don’t go, let’s talk about this,” he pleaded, hearing how pathetic he sounded. But he felt like he had no choice.

You recoiled further away from him, your eyes glistening with tears as you started to walk, your bare feet over gravel, heels swinging from your hands.

He couldn’t understand — how you’d gone from laughing about crème brûlées, to crying, to almost kissing each other, and then to you getting a nosebleed. He also couldn’t understand how he had let you get away. Fuck, was he stupid.

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of someone running on the gravel. He met Jasmine’s worried eyes, contemplating if she should just murder Lando now.

“Did she just leave? What did you do?”

Lando could only shake his head, running a hand through his hair, the gesture portraying his inner turmoil. “I didn’t do anything…” he muttered, sighing loudly. “I was about to kiss her, and then she got a nosebleed all of a sudden.”

Oscar came walking after Jasmine, just close enough to hear what Lando said. “That’s so typical of her,” he breathed out, baffled at how you always managed to almost comically mess things up.

Jasmine rubbed her temples. “Are the two of you actually fucking stupid?” she questioned angrily before yelling, “Lando, don’t just stand there. Go after her!”

“To do what? Get rejected again?” he gesticulated with his hands in defeat, feeling his voice crack. His own tears had started to form.

Jasmine looked back at him like he was stupid. Lando was stupid. That was a fact he now knew.

“To clean up the blood and then actually fucking kiss her — because she did not reject you, she’s just scared!” Jasmine shot back, an intensity in her eyes that made Lando listen. “All she knows is fear, and falling in love with you hasn’t exactly helped with that.”

He was stuck, his feet glued to the floor, the weight of Jasmine’s words hit him like a punch in the stomach. Falling in love — that was what the two of you were doing. Lando had been too blinded by his own infatuation to realise that you were scared of it — scared of that stability because your life hadn’t been stable for years. You truly believed yourself to be cursed.

Fuck, was he stupid. He needed to fix this, and that was quick.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

He left the auction, Oscar assuring him that he could handle the rest of the night alone. The villa was quiet when Lando returned. He didn’t know what he should say when he saw you. He didn’t even know what kind of mood you’d be in.

For a moment, he stopped in the hallway with all the bedrooms. Your door was open, a faint yellow light seeping through. He heard you moving around, the tap running in your en suite bathroom. That made him dare to move, to stand in your doorway.

Your room was a bit messy from earlier when you were getting ready, your suitcase basically turned inside out. Your dress was tossed on the floor, next to your heels. A small red stain could be seen on the beige soles.

Suddenly, you exited the bathroom. Your face was washed clean from makeup and blood, and you were wearing an oversized sleep shirt, reaching your mid-thigh.

You stopped abruptly when you saw him, first shocked, then annoyed. He had no right to use your own methods against you, even though you knew he was right. Whatever he’d said to you, he would be right.

“Now is not the time to be lingering in some fucking doorway, Norris,” you snapped, more to mask your own panic than anything else.

You walked up to the door with determined steps, your fingers hovering over the doorknob. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms.

“I’m not letting you close that door, Bunny,” he said softly, but with an edge of determination, placing his hand on the door so it couldn’t move.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” you insisted, shaking your head as if to physically ward off his words.

Lando’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away to reveal an expression of raw sincerity. “Doesn’t that defy the point? Your mother’s entire idea with teaching you to linger?”

“Don’t,” you whispered. He had no right to bring up your mother.

“We might be dead tomorrow, but you won’t hear me out?”

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded through gritted teeth, tightly closing your eyes to even bear with your emotions.

“Why won’t you let me tell you that I like you?”

He dropped the bomb. He had no option but to confess it to you. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done, yet when it was out there in the open, a weight was off his shoulders. This was meant to go this way.

You opened your eyes. “Because I’ll screw this up like I always do!” you choked out, voice thick with unshed tears. “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!”

“Something always gets in the way of me and good things,” you continued.

“I’m a good thing?” he whispered, but it almost echoed in the quiet room.

“That’s what you got from that?” you cried, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. “You don’t understand. Everything good that comes into my life, I mess up. I can’t even be normal around you because I’m so afraid of ruining it!”

“Because that’s the only thing that matters — that we like each other, that our feelings are mutual,” Lando explained like it was simple. “You’re not cursed. You’re just human. And so am I. We’re allowed to mess up, to be scared, to get nosebleeds at the worst possible moments.”

He took your hand, basically shaking as he held it. You didn’t move away. You let him hold you. You let him closer.

“Or… if you are cursed, then I’ll start carrying a first aid kit,” Lando continued with a small smile, moving his free hand to wipe your cheek clean from tears.

You let out a surprised snort, the sound mingling with your sobs. It was a ridiculous notion, yet somehow, it made perfect sense.

“Can I try kissing you again?” he softly wondered, a semblance of hope in his voice.

Lando watched as you started to smile at the question, nodding slowly. “Please, kiss me.”

He brought both his hands up to your cheeks, your eyes intensely locking for a moment before he softly leant closer, his lips meeting yours in a featherlight connection.

The kiss was sweet. Softer than what you would’ve expected. It was also quite telling of all the emotions that you both harboured inside, finally being set free.

Lando kissed you like it was important, like his life depended on you knowing how much it meant to him — like the two of you would never need another form of communication to tell each other things. This was for you to know that calling yourself cursed was just stupid. You were scared, that’s all. But you didn’t have to be scared anymore.

He was the one to break the kiss, his breath hot against your face as he grinned. “See? Not cursed.”

That was enough to get you laughing, turning your head down to lean against his chest as you let out a pathetic giggle. No blood, no broken bones, no compromised breathing. Okay, maybe your breathing was a little off, but that was to be expected after kissing someone.

For a long, hazy moment, the two of you simply stared into each other’s eyes. How you ended up on the bed passed in a blur, the only thing your mind could focus on was Lando’s hands on your body. His lips back on yours.

The kissing quickly grew fevered and devoted, his tongue exploring your mouth, neck, and chest as you melted against him and the soft mattress, your fingers clutching around him. He took away all of your thoughts, every lingering worry or doubt completely removed. Insecurities too, gone with the wind.

He was breathless when he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. You fiddled with your fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt, revealing a landscape of freckled tan skin before your eyes. His palms moved over your hips, up your waist, cupping the underside of your breasts through the thin cotton of your t-shirt.

As he moved to take off your shirt, you froze. Lando stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to say something.

“The scar,” you said. “It makes me feel… weak, and I don’t want you to treat me like I’m weak.”

Weak was the last word Lando would use to describe you. But he also understood.

“I don’t have to see it. It’s alright like this if that’s what makes you comfortable,” he explained softly.

You nodded, deciding on keeping your shirt on as you watched Lando remove his own. He was perfect, and you were you. Maybe that was enough.

Lando caged you beneath him again, crawling over you, leaving sloppy kisses on your face, arms, and over the fabric of your shirt. The kisses ended with him biting your lower lip as his hands found home in a tight grip on your hips, the lace edge of your underwear tickling his palms.

“Can I go down on you?” he whispered. His eyes looked for permission to continue, and you nodded, messily kissing him back.

He lowered back down your body again, his strong hands absentmindedly massaging the plush skin of your thighs, before finding the waistband of your panties, pulling them off you in a slow motion. He nestled between your legs, not breaking eye contact.

You almost felt cold by being naked, even though the room was delightfully warm. You wanted to cringe at what his sight of you must be like, but he didn’t give you a chance to do so, a string of praise words falling from his mouth.

As each word was said, he spread your wetness through your folds with a feathery movement of his fingers. Lando brushed your clit with a light touch, taking in your reaction before dipping his fingers into the pooling wetness.

“P-please, Lando, oh fuck—” Your voice was wrecked as you grew desperate for more.

He grinned at your words as his face met your heat, leaving kisses around it before finally touching the part where you needed him the most. “So pretty,” he mumbled against you, kissing your clit. That made your brain short circuit.

You reached down to push the curls of his forehead as he delved in, softly bringing you pleasure. Sucking on your clit with intention while his fingers curled deeper into you, his free hand gripping at your thigh, certain to leave crescent-shaped imprints from his fingernails as your soft skin spilled out between his fingers.

You truly did look pretty, though — through Lando’s eyes. With the evening glow of the sun shining through the windows and the white linen bedding surrounding your body, you looked angelic. As your shirt rode up, your stomach was revealed. He loved seeing your skin. Nipples pebbled through the t-shirt, hair dishevelled, skin gleaming from a thin layer of sweat. You made him painfully hard by just lying there, letting him taste you.

“I’m—” You couldn’t get the words out, voice choking on your own moans, but Lando knew to increase the intensity.

You were a fucking mess when you finished, letting that hazy feeling completely take over, whimpering his name out like it was the sweetest thing. He kept on babying your clit with the tip of his tongue until you tugged at his hair, lifting his face. He could’ve gone on forever if you’d let him.

“Come up here,” you urged him, your voice shaky. You watched him lick his glossy lips, running a hand up your body in a soothing manner before collapsing next to you.

“You should see how breathtaking you look right now,” he exhaled, looking at you with your face flushed and your eyes glossed over. You stared at him so deeply, catching your breath, as you realised you couldn’t decide what eye colour he had. They shifted from green, to blue, to brown. Fuck, you were spent.

You thought for a while, and Lando could see it on your face, a mischievous grin forming on your lips before your hands moved down his stomach, stopping by his belt buckle. He let you undo it, your bottom lip nestled between your teeth as you teasingly looked up at him.

Already worked up from before, he moaned as you started to palm him over his trousers.

“I’m not gonna last if you do that,” Lando gasped, holding your hand still with a tight grip around your wrist.

“Take them off, then,” you simply answered, earning a laugh.

He couldn’t say no to that, moving awkwardly to get both trousers and underwear off as quickly as possible. He then settled closer to you, having you basically wrap your legs around him, clinging like a koala. You shared a look between each other, making sure that this was okay. It was so much more than okay. This felt necessary, like you were meant to do it.

“I’m on the pill, so this is fine by me,” you explained to him, a tremble in your voice by having him so close to you.

He kissed you before he did anything else, settling your nerves. Feeling your bodies mould together, creating a common heat. He glided himself through your folds, touching your already stimulated clit. As an act of desperation, you moved your hips lower, grinding against him.

“You okay?” he chuckled.

You hummed against the skin on his shoulder, playfully nibbling as you kissed him all over. His eyes met yours as he pushed into you, waiting patiently to see your reaction to the light stretch. You nodded, your breath hitching as he began moving more purposefully.

The slow drags set of sparks of pleasure within you, so intense your eyes rolled back. You weren’t sure what kind of noises left your body, uncontrollable with the pleasure. Hearing Lando moan deeply into your ears made you feel less unsure.

Completely intoxicated, you tried your best to take it all in. You focused on the golden shimmer in his eyes, the scattered freckles on his face, and the scar on his nose. It was so warm, and wet, feeling him thrust inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands again, just desperately spreading them over his back to his shoulders. Your sharp nails were destined to leave claw marks.

“Faster, baby,” you breathed out, ready for more.

You felt Lando grin against your cheek as he heard the pet name. It had completely slipped out on accident, but that didn’t mean it drove him any less crazy. You felt him grip your body harder as he fucked up into you.

“Doing so well for me,” he moaned out your name. “C’mon, Bunny, let me see how pretty you are when you come again.”

A litany of moans filled the room, from the both of you. That, along with the sounds of your bodies crashing together, made you fucking delirious. You were close, so close. You wanted to feel that feeling again, of him bringing you to the end.

You shamelessly used him as you felt the familiar fire spread through your veins. He wasn’t long after, almost lifting your body to get you closer to him as he finished. His moans were slow and shaky as he rested his lips on your forehead.

His hips lost all rhythm as he spilled into you, his cock twitching inside you while he slowly pumped you full of his release, thrusting several times as he rode it out. You wanted to memorise the guttural sounds and the tremble of his face muscles as he reached the ultimate high.

“We’re a mess,” he commented, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You let out a small chuckle. “Stay still for a second,” you ordered him as you relaxed in his hold. Both of you sighed at the sensation of him filling you up completely. You would enjoy this feeling of having him as close as humanly possible for as long as he let you.

“I don’t ever want to move.” he murmured against your hair.

You caught your breaths in unity, staying close together without saying much more. You didn’t need to. Lando knew that all his future dreams would take place here, lying quietly next to you, in your own sacred heaven. You two, sharing heavy breathing and sighs, after delicately bruising each other’s bodies.

He looked you deep in your eyes, seeing how tired you were, but solidifying what was once a doubt for you. He looked at you like you were a risk worth taking. A river worth wading. A river worth drowning in.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando woke up the morning after feeling well rested, in a bed that was warm and the sheets scented by you. He felt you moving next to him as he came out of his slumber, mumbling something about it being too hot and how you had forgotten to open the window before falling asleep.

He didn’t understand how you felt hot when all he felt was ice cold as you left him alone in bed. The room got brighter as you moved the curtains, opening a window to let in the outside air. He opened his eyes to see you, back turned against him, stretching your body to wake up. A grin plastered on his face. He was painfully happy.

You moved to wrap your arms around yourself, lifting the hem of the shirt you’d slept in. As you pulled it over your body, Lando got a view of your entire being. He was certainly awake now. Naked, your skin glowed golden technicolour from the sunlight, in stark contrast to the white room.

You knew exactly what you were doing as you slowly turned around.

“Just look at you…” Lando exhaled. “Fucking gorgeous, Bunny.”

In seconds, you were back in bed next to him, pulling the bedding up to hide your face.

“Gonna act all shy now?” he teased, chuckling.

As you peeked back out, Lando was quick to get closer to you. He hovered over you as his hands found your body.

He didn’t even have to tell you — your lips already parting as his thumb caressed your cheek, moving closer to your mouth. You took his thumb in your mouth, softly sucking as it rested on your tongue. You saw how his eyes fluttered at the feeling, gently removing it to press a passionate kiss to your wet lips.

Lando was hesitant to let his hands wander lower, softly cupping your breasts and littering your sternum with open-mouthed kisses. His fingertips lightly pinched the sensitive peaks of your nipples, as he looked up at you through tired eyes, always wanting your reassurance, as his lips got close to the scar.

You nodded gently, allowing him to kiss it. You didn’t like touching the scar, but somehow, you had no issue when his mouth did it. He kissed it gently before moving to kiss your nipple. He smiled with pride at the breathy gasp you let out as he placed his mouth on you. You were practically whining at the pressure of him sucking at your skin.

He released you after a moment, lying down next to you. He felt your heartbeat through your chest as his head rested on top of your breast, softly padded by the plush skin. You looked down at him with joy, placing a finger under his chin so he was looking right back at you.

Slowly, your fingers traced his face. He smiled at your orange nail polish. You took your time tracing the bridge of his nose, stopping when you got to the little mark he had right across it. He had his scars too.

“My heart hurts,” you groaned quietly, as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Huh? Are you serious?” he mumbled against the skin of your chest.

“It’s a dull ache, a desire almost,” you explained, and Lando understood your point.

“I think it’s contagious,” Lando smiled. He let the words linger in the air before adding, “You should come with me to Hungary after this.”

You sighed, realising how hard it would be to say no to him in the future. “I don’t go back to uni for another couple of weeks, so…”

“I’m buying you a plane ticket right now,” he said, reaching for his phone, but your hands stopped him.

“No,” you said.

For a second, Lando started to second-guess everything.

“Join me in the shower first.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

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ruleofheart · 2 months ago

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growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel.

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you.

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators.

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up.

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten.

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck.

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly.

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?”

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy.

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat.

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world.

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her.

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.”

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life.

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom.

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement.

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school.

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material.

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges.

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike.

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground.

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind.

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.”

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow.

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart.

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity.

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door.

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside.

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features.

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.”

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules.

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.”

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.”

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical.

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest.

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm.

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you.

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much.

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter.

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle.

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.”

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers.

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest.

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched.

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.”

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it.

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side.

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!”

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground.

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game.

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal.

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked.

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.”

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you.

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart.

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you.

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money.

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart.

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again.

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach.

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from.

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you.

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed.

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore.

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom.

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it.

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally.

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked.

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness.

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side.

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found.

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost.

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely.

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you.

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me.

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected.

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet.

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better.

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours.

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold.

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door.

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers.

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her.

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.”

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later.

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you.

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest.

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo?

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation.

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well.

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough.

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?”

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ.

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation.

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer.

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation.

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating.

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her.

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.”

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral.

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.”

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?”

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head.

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt.

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette.

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.”

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement.

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?”

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes.

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy.

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need.

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear.

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly.

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes.

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion.

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too.

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off.

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down.

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy.

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone.

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you.

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you.

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again.

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.”

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude.

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation.

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her.

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her.

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure.

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience.

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place.

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.”

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply.

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips.

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely.

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you.

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips.

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles.

“Please what?”

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone.

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.”

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry.

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself.

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true.

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward.

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling.

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.”

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release.

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth.

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders.

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy.

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand.

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.”

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy.

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate.

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief.

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face.

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over.

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.”

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.”

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting.

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together.

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you.

“Hey,” she starts, voice low.

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

#ellie fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie williams smut #tlou x reader #ellie angst #ellie williams angst

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unlicensed-queer · 4 months ago

Text

Study Session

Summary: Donnie and the reader are childhood friends going to college together and feelings run hot one night working on a biology project

Warnings: Shmut (sub! Donnie and unprotected sex, wrap it up folks, unprotected is only fun in fiction and monogamous relationships!)

Pairing: Donnie Darko x Fem! Reader

Notes: so like the smut was fun but I loved writing the dialogue between reader and Donnie, it was so fun to imagine them being tired and frustrated with their assignment and blaming the flies. First smut post hope y'all enjoy! (I did not proofread this have mercy on me). Divider by @saradika-graphics

Donnie and you had been friends as long as you could remember. You had grown up next door neighbors, running around the neighborhood, poking salamanders and making mud castles. Then later as soon as you got your license, the two of you drove around looking for anything to do in your sleepy Iowa town. You'd been together forever, always had each other's backs and been there for each other through your darkest moments. You knew almost everything about Donnie, except one thing. What you didn't know was that he had been pining after you since he could recognize the difference between girls and boys. You didn't know that he had picked the college he did simply because you were going there and he couldn't stand the thought of not being able to see you. And you didn't know that every night Donnie lay awake with his hand in his pants and his eyes closed, thinking of the way your hair smelled and how the sun shone off your skin. He was addicted to you, obsessed. One time you left your hoodie at his dorm, he had cherished it. He kept it in a box in his closet, secluded and safe, taking it out to bury his face in your scent as he rutted helplessly into his bed. The poor boy wanted you so bad it hurt. Of course it wasn't just that he thought you were hot, a lot of girls were hot, no it was the fact that you never treated him like a bomb about to go off, never looked at him like he might snap and run at you with a broken glass. You treated him like a normal friend, even after the shit show with the flooded school and the inspirational speakers house. But the fact that you were everything he ever wanted in a girl, strong, confident and forceful, didn't hurt.

Now Donnie was smart and Donnie was brave but he was terrified to admit any of this to you. He was so scared of ruining what you had that he held it back, content with his fantasies and his right hand, left if he was feeling adventurous.

One night you were sitting together, chewing your pencils and scratching your head over a biology project. The results of your trials weren't lining up the way they were supposed to and you just couldnt figure out what was going wrong. Donnie sat back with a sigh and stretched his cramped back.

"I dunno man have you considered that maybe the flies are just fucking stupid or something?" He asked, to frustrated to think of any actual ideas "maybe tomorrow we can print off an instruction manual of what they're supposed to do and they can read it with their weird ass little eyes"

You huffed a distracted laugh as you looked over the spreadsheets for the millionth time

"Sure let's tell them that they're giving they're larvae the wrong birth defects and that they need to try harder" You let your head fall, thumping against the textbook on your mattress

"I don't know what's going wrong, maybe the dosages in the food is wrong?" You asked, voice muffled. Donnie looked down at you. Your were laying on your stomach and your shirt had rode up, exposing the dip of your back. He swallowed, funny how an inch of exposed skin and the curve of your ass in shorts could make his brain short circuit.

"Yeah uh, we could try that"

You looked back, frowning slightly.

"You good Donnie? You look all sweaty are you sick?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. Donnie gave a bright and only slightly forced smile and gave you a thumbs up. As soon as you turned away he hurriedly grabbed a throw pillow and held it on top of his lap. He groaned internally, why did he always feel like this in the most inconvenient times? He didn't want to be one of those gross guy best friends that only spend time with a girl because they want to fuck her, but he needed you so badly. He could have drooled over the sight of the how your clothes hugged your body, how your shoulder moved as you turned pages.

Donnie took a deep breath, he couldn't stand it anymore. Even if you rejected him it would still be better than this halfway hell of agonizing over you day and night

"Y/N, I..I wanna..I gotta say something" Donnie mumbled, twisting the tassels on your pillow. You sat up and looked at him.

"Is it why you been acting so weird for the last 20 minutes?" You asked, pushing your hair back "do I have something stuck in my teeth?" You lifted your hand to your mouth in worry.

"Nonono, your teeth look great, you look great , I-" Donnie flushed with nerves. He could string together a rant about smurfs or rabbits or why he hated fakey VHS messiahs but as soon as he wanted to just say he liked you it was all jumbled up. You were so close to him, he could see the faint freckles on your nose. He didn't think about doing it, he just knew that a moment later his lips were pressed to yours and it was everything he ever wanted. He didn't care if you slapped him and never wanted to speak again, it was worth it for a moment of feeling your plush lips and being enveloped in your scent. He broke away, lips parted and pupils blown wide.

“Sorry uh-" he didn't even get to finish his sentence before you had pushed him back onto the bed, kissing him hard. Donnie moaned and threaded his hands into your hair. You were both inexperienced and the kiss was all tongue and teeth but still the heat pooled in your core. You pulled away for a moment to breathe, looking down at Donnie. His lips were swollen and pink, his hair messy and his cheeks flushed.

“Y/N, fuck, need..need you" he whimpered, tugging at your waist band. He felt like his brain was melting, you were so pretty and he was so hard and he needed you so badly it hurt.

“Please-please I-” Donnie felt you wrap a hand around his cock and he gave a whimper that sounded like he was about to cry.

"Need what?” You teased. You knew full well what he wanted, your pussy warm and wet around him. But you weren't going to let him have it that easy, he'd get spoiled.

“Wanna fuck you, please Y/N, I'll make you feel so good I just need you, needa be inside you.." Donnie begged, pressing kisses to your neck and face. “Please" he whispered into your skin, drunk on the strawberry scent of your body wash.

“So polite aren't you?" You murmured to Donnie as you cradled his face in one hand. You shifted your legs to pull off your shorts. Donnie looked down with wide eyes and swallowed dryly.

“Cat got your tongue?" You laughed as you tugged down his pants and boxers to his knees. Donnie looked back at you. His eyes were huge, they always were but this time they seemed almost glassy with awe.

“You're so pretty" he whispered, lifting his hands to your hips. You smiled and kissed him slowly as you sank down onto him. Donnie groaned into the kiss, his hips bucking unconsciously. It felt so much better than he could have imagined, tight and hot and velvet soft, rippling around him. He bit his lip trying not to cum instantly. A shock of electric pleasure shot through him when you started to ride him. He couldn't control the sounds he made. He didn't know if he was talking or whimpering or what but his mouth was open, praise and pleasure dripping from his lips.

“Feel so good inside me" you panted, hips raising and falling, the obscene sound of your skin together filling the dorm. Your hips burned but the pleasure was enough you couldn't stop. You were lost in the pleasure when you felt Donnie grab your hips, halting your movement. You looked down in confusion, seeing Donnie with his eyes clenched closed.

“Donnie? Are..are you ok?" What if he wanted to stop? Had you done something wrong?

“Just..just gotta..hold on for a second" Donnie mumbled, face flushing red. His cock throbbing, desperate to cum. You looked down at him, a knowing grin spreading across your face

“Were you about to cum?" You asked, mirth in your voice. Donnie flushed even redder

“Not my fault you're..fucking good at this!" He protested, taking a few deep breaths to back himself away from the edge. You laughed, your head tipping back. Donnie couldn't believe how beautiful you were. He gripped your hips again, thrusting his hips up. The tight wet heat was intoxicating, he felt like he could drown in your scent and die a happy man. You were his goddess and his altar and he would worship any way he could. As you started to move again Donnie bit back a whimper as his cock throbbed.

“So pretty, so fucking pretty" he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. Your lips pressed together in a messy and desperate kiss. Donnie fucked you like he wanted to be part of you, whimpering desperate pleas and praises as he thrust his hips up automatically. He could feel his climax building, rushing up on him and he gripped your hips tightly.

“Can’t-nnh-can’t stop-Y/N-” he grunted, he could feel your hot breath panting on his neck as you bounced above him. He reached down and pressed two fingers to your clit, rubbing in a circular motion, entranced by how wet you were. The additional stimulus made your brain short circuit and you gave a breathy moan, Donnie wanted to record that and play it on loop until he came dry.

"hh-fuck-hh” Donnie couldn't string together a sentence as he held himself back from cumming. He didn't want to cum before you, he wanted to serve you, to be good. Above him he felt you seize, your pussy rippling around him as you gasped. He felt a gush of slickness over his hand and he couldn't help himself, cumming hard with a whimpering moan of your name. As he lay, panting and sweaty with you laying on his chest one thought crossed his mind.

“Best fucking study sesh ever"

#jake gyllenhaal #donnie darko #donnie darko x reader #donnie darko x you #smut

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alastor-x-reader-stories · 1 month ago

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Radio Dream - Alastor x Reader (platonic or romantic)

"Do you think I can go into that Radio Tower?" you said

"Not unless you want to die again." Husk responded with a grunt.

"Why would you wanna go into dat thing anyway?" Angel said, leaning his cheek on one hand while the other held his drink.

You were sitting at the bar with Angel and Husk, just chatting about random insignificant drunk topics. Then your curiosity of the radio tower mounted on the hotel caught up to you. Leading to the conversation read not too long ago.

Alastor stood around the corner, just out of sight of the bar patrons. His ear flicked and his grin strained when you asked your foolish question, but Angel Dust's question had him pause before he could flay you.

Why did you? Sabotage? Vandalism? Just to be annoying-?

"I was just remembering how much I wanted to be radio show host when I was a little kid." You said in a sigh.

...Ooh?

"Oh? Really? Aren't ya... y'know, not ancient?" Angel said. He took a sip so you could respond. Husk was paying attention to you now as well, giving you a side-eye as he cleaned whatever glassware needed to be cleaned.

You sighed again, long and drawn out. There was a bit of dreaminess to your tone, a bit of longing. "Yeah, that's why I never really pursued it. My folks were like 'that's nice and all but that's going out of style and you can't make a living off of it, be more realistic.'" You snorted a bit in agitation at that, taking another slow sip of your drink. After a moment you continued.

"I used to have such a good time playing radio host. I'd sit in the living room or dining room, wherever people were, and make like a box fort or something with my cd player with me. I'd talk into a stick or spoon or whisk or something and talk about random topics or play music. Sometimes I'd 'take phone calls', which were mostly just me pretending to give myself a phone call." You chuckled "I would start a lot of 'drama' like that. Sometimes my family members would give suggestions and I'd play it up and play whatever song they asked. Assuming it was on one of the three CDs I was allowed to use."

"That's cute." Angel hummed "Other than the CDs and stuff, your show doesn't sound that much different from Alastor's."

Husk snorted "Nah, they're show sounds MUCH less annoying."

You barked out a laugh- clearly intoxicated "How dare you! I'm sure I could be a LOT more annoying!" You devolved into a hysterical giggle fit, your face hitting the bar counter in front of you.

"All right, I think you've had enough." Husk grunted, taking what was left of your drink from you.

"fair." You said into the counter.

The conversation carried on from there, and Alastor slinked away to his tower. He stood there a moment, his arms crossed behind his back as his eyes did a brief scan over the room.

When he was young, he did something similar. Granted it was a record player, not a see-dee or whatever you were rambling about. His mother would play along and encourage him, pretending to send letters in or be a guest on his show.

Hearing your story gave him a bit of a warm feeling in his chest. It was good knowing someone out there still appreciated the medium, even if it was likely unrealistic.

Well... Alastor supposed there was really no harm in it, assuming he was there to supervise...

A couple days later and Alastor trotted up to you, offering a tour of the radio tower.

For a brief moment, your eyes practically lit up - shining in delight. The expression did something to his chest, as it suddenly felt far too tight. But not in an...unpleasant way.

However, the next moment you looked downright terrified.

Not as pleasant. Not even funny. He had no idea why.

"Are you going to kill me or whatever?" You said, slowly taking a step back.

Alastor laughed "Not at all, my dear! I simply overheard your drunken conversation the other night and decided to indulge your childhood fantasy."

You snorted "Yeah I'm not selling you my soul for that."

Alastor waved you off, scoffing "Oh heavens, I wasn't asking for your soul." He gave you a bright grin- one that seemed less like a grin and more like a soft smile. "I simply ask you don't, how do people say now a days... 'wreck my shit'."

You giggled a bit into your palm. Apparently Alastor had said something funny.

"...Really? You'll just...let me look?"

"Certainly!" He put an arm across your shoulders, guiding you down the halls in the direction of his station. "Why it's been- unfortunately- quite some time since I heard such a passionate speech for the radio!"

Your face flushed a bright red "Well, hold on, it wasn't a 'speech'-"

"Nope! More like a couple sentences. But you know how it is," He used his free hand to do a jazzy motion "In show-business!"

You snorted "Mmm.... I guess so. Though, really, i've never been a very 'show business' kind of person."

"Nonsense! Once you have it, my dear, you never truly lose it. It just needs a little spark and then you'll have the flames all over again!"

"Are we talking about showmanship or arson?"

"Why not both!"

You laughed. His chest did that pleasant squeeze again. Maybe he'll allow you to sit in on a broadcast one of these days....Well, that was a future question.

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

Hi it's me the writer. I actually did the things that the reader talked about in this. It was a lot of fun for me and my attention-hungry existence. My parents didn't really dissuade me from it though. But. Uh. I think it was more like a 'entertain the child's whims' kind of thought. Which was fair, because I didn't exactly pursue that long. Though I still had fun playing it and figured i'd write something short about it. The three CDs I used were "Wicked", "Pokemon", and "The Shrek Soundtrack". Favorite songs to play from them, in order "No Good Deed", "The Pokemon Rap", and "Accidentally in Love" That info isn't important to anyone but me so i shared it anyway lol.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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andy-wm · 5 months ago

Text

I have thoughts on Jimin's SGMB

It's the gayest thing I've ever seen.

And by that I mean it's joyous, light-hearted, bright, and fun.

We can all agree, I think, that this is a happy and totally harmless song. Who could criticise Jimin for declaring his love in such a sweet and innocent way?

Of course not everyone will like it, and that's fine. You don't have to like everything he does - or everything BTS does - you are an individual with thoughts and feelings of your own - I hope. But putting that aside you'd have to be a troubled person indeed to take offence at anything here.

So, it is definitely a fan song, right? Jimin is singing to his fans... isn't he?

Maybe.

But if it is (I and I'm not convinced) it's not just a fan song.

It's sweet, so sweet, but....

Maybe it's a little too sweet?

We know Jimin is CUTIE SEXY LOVELY and LOVELY LOVELY LOVELY, but let's be honest, he's also a grown man. And Army are not children (mostly). In fact we have had many many conversations about how ARMY are not children.

But this whole production is pushing the sweet and innocent barrow so hard that I can't help wanting to look underneath and behind and inside to see what's really going on because it's so sweet it's hurting my teeth.

Compare the sophistication and self awareness of FACE to the bouncy, bright and child-like song-and-dance in the SGMB music video. They are WORLDS apart and we were told very specifically that the albums were linked.

"Following his first solo album, “FACE,” where he sought to explore his true identity, “MUSE” documents his journey in search of the source of his inspiration." said the Weverse notification.

So what's really going on here?

What are you doing Jiminie?

And more importantly, why are you doing it?

You could call it a pageant, or a carnival, or a circus - with Jimin as the ringmaster.

But my view is:

This a pantomime. And it's very clever.

According to the Oxford Dictionary, a pantomime is "A dramatic entertainment, originating in Roman mime, in which performers express meaning through gestures accompanied by music." Yes, that describes it.

Merriam-Webster tells us "[A pantomime] is an ancient Roman dramatic performance featuring a solo dancer and a narrative chorus" That also makes sense.

Oxford also specified that it's a modern BRITISH tradition. "a theatrical entertainment, mainly for children, which involves music, topical jokes, and slapstick comedy." It's a perfect fit.

The British link is already there - Jimin clearly told us he's influenced by The Beatles' Sergeant Peppers Album. There's also the styling of his suit. The stovepipe pants, narrow tie, and fitted jacket are very 1960s (and 1980s) British pop.

There's something old-school about a pantomime. It harks back to childhood, and to the nostalgia of holidays. And the styling of the MV is in keeping with that nostalgic feel too - from the Mountain scene with the vintage film title, to the intertitles - or title cards , to the circular frame of the opening scene.

But back to the Pantomime itself...

A quick google search told me the following are important elements of pantomime. And we have most, if not all of them in this production.

Gender role reversal - TICK

Slapstick comedy - TICK

Colourful costumes - TICK

Audience participation - TICK (the children ARE the audience)

Exaggerated facial expressions - TICK

Take another look at the music video - it's all there.

Wikipedia tells us that pantomimes traditional told fairy tales or folk tales - often love stories - and that the primary role in a Pantomime was:

The 'Principal boy', a hero or charismatic rogue, traditionally played by a young woman in men's clothing.

Smart, very smart. With all the other conversations we've been having a round gender this is totally on the money.

Wikipedia goes on to say "Another pantomime tradition is to engage celebrity guest stars... Contemporary pantomime productions are often adapted to allow the star to showcase their well-known act.... If the star enters into the spirit of the entertainment, he or she likely adds to its overall effect"

Welcome, Loco.

(yes, I know collabs are de rigueur, but that doesn't change the fact that it fits - celeb guests are an established practice in Panto.)

So if this IS a Pantomime (and I'm not saying it definitely is but it looks like one to me), then it's intended to be a sung-story, told as much through dance and gestures as through words.

If it's a pantomime, what is it about?

I'm glad you asked! This little charade is the story of a young person called Jimin who is looking for love. He finds romance easily enough...

but real love takes a little longer.

Fortunately for our hero, he's brave (he will confess to his lover) and he is patient (he encourages them to do so too).

In between, there are shenanigans and goofing...

But our Charismatic Rogue is charming (if devilish) and wins the hearts of the audience - and his lover.

Let's take a closer look at how the story unfolds...

At the start of the MV, as the initial credits appear, Jimin is on stage vibing with his band. Loco is chilling on a rock like a lizard in the sun.

We get the ye olde intertitles, welcoming the audience and introducing.... SMERALDO Garden Marching Band

It's not Smeraldo Garden - Marching Band. It's Smeraldo *pause* Garden Marching Band. Smeraldo (secrets) has the emphasis.

After the intertitles, the scene opens on a group of children - they are ostensibly the audience of the band. They're playing paper-scissors-rock to see who will call for Jimin's attention.

The children run over to him and the tale begins.

Jimin, the main character of this story, immediately launches into song.

He starts off singing about Bangtan - mentioning their harmony (song and personal I think), he shows the Bangtan hand gesture we all know so well, and he sings "we gift happiness every day".

But he mentions June 12th.

Why June 12th?

Why not 13th, their debut day?

BECAUSE THIS IS NOT A SONG for ARMY. He's making it clear that at this point he's referring to Bangtan specifically, not the whole juggernaut of the fandom and fame. June 12th precedes ARMY.

He's made it clear from the start - this is NOT ABOUT ARMY.

Then he leans in and whispers to the children - and the camera -"lets talk about us".

Look at the kids' faces - they're miming shock. Ooooohhh! This is a big secret he's about to tell them - and us.

Look at Jimin's expression - he's just a tad smug. This is not a shocking secret to him, this is a fun secret.

Yes, he is indeed the charismatic rogue of this story.

He sings:

"All the things we couldn't say before

And your hidden feelings too (just for you)

Don't you worry anymore

Since we're together now**

Let's be a little more honest."

So it seems our main character has a LOVER. Someone who couldn't be revealed and who hid their feelings.

<Wow, I have no idea who this could be...>

Hang on, what's happening in the MV??

On his journey, it seems our young hero has a few short-lived romances. And if you look carefully, they are all with men.

He accepts the rose from a man, and plants himself on the bench right up close to .... a man. He jumps up unperturbed, and gifts the rose to (you guessed it) another man.

Jimin manages to sidestep (or completely ignore) all the women except one, who he sends graciously into the arms of a random man before continuing on his journey.

Wait one moment... his romantic partners were ALL MEN??

ALL MEN??

ALL MEN?!!!!!

Yes darling, all men. Let's continue.

So, it seems none of Jimin's previous romances grew into anything more, but he takes his own advice with his mysterious lover and confesses first.

He smirks. He flicks his jacket with pizzazz. He's ready.

He sings:

"Ooooh I love you babe,

I'll come closer to you

I want to hold your hand,

I want you babe (yessir)

Please note the hand gesture in this choreo - it's another one we've seen many times.

The dance ends and Jimin scans the surroundings and spots his old friend...

[Enter stage left: Loco]

Oh look, the friend is a rapper a few years older than Jimin. They seem to have a lot of fun together, Jimin and his rapper friend. There are ZERO romantic overtones here. This guy happily goes along with all the goofing and silliness even though he looks a tiny bit mortified. Either they are both very good actors, or a lot of the time, Loco was holding in his laughter. And Jimin seems incredibly amused by that.

They hang out together until.... something in the atmosphere changes:

The colours become richer, light become warmer, and oh look....

It's *The Golden Hour*

I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP, PEOPLE. HE REALLY DID THIS.

Jimin leaves Loco, chasing the golden light as he sings about "the dazzling sky." Golden confetti (champagne, anyone?) falls all around him and then ...

fucking sunflowers bloom.

SUN FLOWERS.

BLOOM.

FOR HIM.

SUNflowers...

Remind me again what sunflowers are known for? Oh yes, they are symbolic of the sun. Guess what else? They turn to face the sun.

Yup, the sunflowers all turn their faces toward the camera. I'm not crazy, okay?! I'm not.

SMH... let's move on.

Jimin re-joins his band, and the sunflowers do their sunflower thing, and Jimin sings:

"So tell me how you feel,

let whatever you feel

wash over you"

Then he sings

"I love you babe, (yessir)

I'll come closer to you

I want to hold your hand,

I want you babe (yessir)

Please note the hand gesture again

👉 👈

The bridge is next, and Jimin takes us back to Bangtan. As all the stars appear (that ocean of purple light that surrounds them at concerts) and everyone takes their place on stage, they turn up the music. <Are my eyes watering? Perhaps>

"I think we're ready now

Lets begin 1, 2

Put your hands up"

*cute wiggle-dance commences* and Jimin spots his good friend the rapper again, hiding on the sidelines. He pulls him into the chorus line and they do more silliness and everyone is having a great time.

Confetti- flower petals fall, there's laughter and happiness all around, and they bow and bid us good bye.

The show is over.

*THE END*

But wait, I am not done.

A few more things bear mentioning here:

I saw quite a few comments saying this song is for ARMY.

It is categorically NOT for ARMY. Besides the fact that we already have Closer Than This - a fan song - on this album, Jimin specifically chose a date before debut - before ARMY existed - to place in this song. No mention of ARMY at all. Accept it graciously, this is not for you.

I wanna hold your hand

This lyric is a reference not only to the Beatles song "I Want to Hold Your Hand", It's also a common theme with Jimin and Jungkook. We see them finding any feeble excuse to hold hands, shake hands, touch hands. Yes, we see you two...

I am you, You are me

The gesture used in the choreo when Jimin is singing his confession - I failed miserably to catch it in my screengrab but there's no doubt it's their "I am you, You are me" gesture. Take a look for yourself.

All Jimin's romantic moments happened with men.

I'm not saying in his life, I am saying in this MV. All of them. The only interaction he has with a woman is one brief moment where he grabs her wrist as she passes by and he swings her into the path of a guy behind him. He even scoots around the women and sidesteps them. That can't be accidental. He's making a point.

The addition of 'yessir' in the lyrics makes it clear that he's confessing to a man.

I cannot see any reasonable way to refute this. The BH subtitles include it even though you have to listen carefully to catch it. THAT IS A CHOICE, NOT AN ACCIDENT.

"Even though we're together now"

These lyrics could mean theyre an established, committed couple. But if we think a little broader than that, and a little more literally, who is he together with right now?

It's strategically brilliant.

This is his 'tell all expose' but he has built in a rock solid escape clause by using the panto format. Staging the whole love story - including the prior boyfriends and the man he's now in love with - as an over the top comedy show makes it easily dismissible as pure fiction. By including the fantasy/magical elements he just makes it more so. Deniers will be able to come up with a dozen reasons to reject this... 'It's a fantasy story', 'not all songs are autobiographical', 'he's making a point', 'he's raising LGBTQIA+ awareness'... all true maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that this is HIS song, about HIS muse. If you've been paying attention (and even if you haven't) you will know this is certainly not pure fiction.

AND FINALLY....

The most important one, I left till last. I actually want to scream this, in all caps, in the biggest font possible. But I will restrain myself.

The song is bookended by references to BTS.

That is hugely important. For those who may not be aware, this is a literary device. Bookending a story provides a start and end reference point. Here, the Bangtan bookends provide context for the rest of the lyrics - they frame the lyrics within them. That means the events happening in the song, happen within the context of Bangtan. Reading between the lines, the person he is singing to/about is within Bangtan.

This is not reaching. This is like mixing blue paint and yellow paint together. You will get green paint.

💛+💙=💚

So yes, this song is the gayest thing I've ever seen.

And I DO mean it's joyous, light-hearted, bright, and fun.

But yes, it's also absolutely and totally really really GAY

🏳️‍🌈🐥🦄🌈🏳️‍⚧️🌻🐰☀️🏳️‍🌈

Thank you Jiminie

#park jimin #jeon jungguk #jikook #kookmin #국민 #true love #jungkook #bts jimin #jimin comeback #jimin sgmb #smeraldo garden marching band

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patscorner · 6 months ago

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kate fic idea ! okay so you and kate have been best friends since you can remember, but something happens around third grade were you had to move away. a few years later (towards college or so) you guys reconnect (bc yall decided to apply to the same college) then it ends up on them going on a date and kissing 🙏🏽

will do! 🫡

ALL OF THE ABOVE

Summary: You and Kate grew up together, but when you move across the country, you lose contact with her forever. Or so you think.

wc: 2,339 (she's a long one, buckle up folks)

Contains: mentions of alcohol, nothing...?

______________________________

For as long as you can remember, you have always had a best friend. Whether it was your first imaginary friend, your dog, or your brother. One of the most memorable of them all, though, was a short, dirty blonde girl in your third grade.

Kate was assigned as your table partner in art. Even as an eight-year-old, you knew she was the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. You both instantly clicked, bonding over favorite colors and working on your math problems together.

You both would play outside in recess together, swinging on the swings, or you’d play in the dirt while Kate played with a basketball. You guys were instantly each other’s ride or die, going to one another’s houses for sleepovers almost every weekend. Even throughout the seventh grade girl drama (canon event), and even after both of your friend groups crashed and burned, you two stood strong.

But sometimes things happen that you can’t control, like your parents separating in the middle of your eighth grade year. When you thought it couldn’t get any worse, your dad decided to return to his hometown and move across the country to Iowa, taking you and your brother with him.

You’ve never fought anything harder. You spent most of your time screaming at your dad and begging him to let you stay. When he kept refusing, you eventually accepted the fact that you were leaving. Leaving everything behind, your childhood home, your memories, your best friend.

At the time, the hardest thing you’d ever done was tell Kate you were leaving. You were in tears the whole time, even before you told her. She’d looked at you with worry and concern before embracing you, telling you that no matter what it was, she’d be there for you.

That’s the moment you knew you had fallen in love and that there was absolutely nothing you could do about it.

After you told her, you both cried together, vowing to write everyday (this was before you guys owned phones), and promising to never forget each other.

And that’s exactly how it started out. You wrote to her everyday, filling her in on everything that was happening in your first year of high school. And she’d write back, telling you about how she made the basketball team.

But soon, she started getting busy with all the media attention on the sophomore star, and your letters every day turned into nothing at all. You kept writing to her, but you never got anything back, even after you told her you got a phone.

You figured it was because you both got busy, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that she didn’t write to you back. Eventually, you distracted yourself with finding your love for soccer and her, creating her future in women’s basketball.

You wouldn’t say you forgot her, because how could you? But you didn’t think about her much anymore, and she fell to the back of your mind. You’d moved on with your life, and you were certain she did, too.

Eventually, you graduated and got a full ride to the University of Iowa because of your amazing talent in soccer. Little did you know that a year later, so would Kate. Of course, hers was for basketball, but the same campus nonetheless.

You lay on your bed, watching old soccer highlights, trying to see if you could predict the plays and the fouls before they happen. You look up as you hear your dorm door open and watch as your two roommates drunkenly stumble in. One of your roommates, Sarah, fumbles with the keys before dropping them and leaning on your other roommate, Devon, doubling over in laughter. You roll your eyes and close your laptop. Guess we’re done with that for now.

“What happened to ‘not getting too drunk’?” You asked with raised eyebrows, helping Devon, who is much more drunk than Sarah, to the bed. She mumbles incoherent words, so you look up at Sarah to translate as you take Devon’s shoes off.

Sarah shrugged. “The football team showed up. They’re the life of the party.” She slurs the last bit and then covers her mouth before rushing to the bathroom.

You shake your head as you turn back to Devon, who’s staring down at you. “You’re hot as fuck.” she mumbles.

“You’re drunk, and you have a girlfriend.” You say. You’re far too familiar with Devon when she’s intoxicated. All she does is flirt with people, whether her girlfriend is in the room or not. Luckily, most people on the Iowa campus know her and who her girlfriend is, and they know to stay away, not engaging or encouraging any of her behavior.

“Cait is so annoying.” Devon whines. “She didn’t wanna come to the party with me.” she throws her head back on the pillows, flinging her legs on the bed when you finish taking her shoes off.

“Or.” You grab her a water bottle from the fridge before opening it and making your way back to her. “She has a game tomorrow and doesn’t wanna play hungover.”

You’d been to a couple of Caitlin’s games, and it’s even more amazing to watch her play in person (she’s also fine as hell, but you’d rather keep your life, so this one stays in your head). And with your brother being on the college baseball team, he’d go to many sports events, whether it be basketball, football, women’s basketball, or baseball itself.

Devon sighs before taking the water from you, practically drinking all of it before handing the mostly empty bottle back to you. You put a blanket over her before making your way to check on Sarah.

Opening the door, you notice that she’s taking her makeup off and her hair down. “Oh, shit, you’re all good then?” you say, surprised to see her standing. She turns to you and nods. “Unlike Ms girl in there, I can hold my liquor.” You laugh and turn to leave.

“Oh, you comin’ to the game tomorrow?” Sarah asked, turning to look at you. You sigh deeply before shaking your head. “Nah, I gotta study.”

“Bitch, you’ve studied for like three days, you’re gonna burn yourself out. You’re allowed a break.” Sarah says in a light-hearted manner but you can tell she wasn’t all the way kidding. She wasn’t all the way wrong either. You’d been studying relentlessly for a test in your business class, and gave yourself little room for a break.

“Come on, a small break isn’t gonna kill you.” Sarah persisted. You sigh defeatedly. “Fine.”

She grins widely, already planning outfits to put you in. You shake your head at her antics, when in reality, it was one of your favorite things about her.

Guess you're going to a game tomorrow.

Big mistake. You completely forgot that it was the first home game of the preseason, so the stadium was packed. The people looked like little bees, swarming around in their yellow and black jerseys.

But you and your roommates made sure to take shots before you left the apartment, so the alcohol eased your nerves a little. Since your brother was a baseball player and your roommates girlfriend was Caitlin fucking Clark, you guys had scored courtside seats, right behind the coaching staff.

You shuffle into the aisle, pulling your short black dress down as you settle in. You sit down, and turn your attention to the court. The teams are doing warm ups, and you watch as they do layups. One girl catches your eye, her dirty blonde hair tied back into her signature braid. She looks painfully familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it.

That is until she turns around to sit on the bench , and you get a good look at her last name.

Martin.

Your jaw drops in shock, as your brain tries to process all the emotions that hit you at once. On one hand, you’re pissed that she left you in the lurch, but on the other hand… she’s Kate, and Kate is your best friend, someone who you once didn’t think you could live without.

She’s sitting in front of you, conversing with Caitlin. You obviously couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you’re an expert at reading lips (thanks to your parents), and you make out the word ‘single’, to which Kate nods her head at.

For whatever reason, this made your heart tingle, hope flashing through your mind. Maybe things could go back to how they were.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Sarah nudging your shoulder. “Stop staring, girl, you’re gonna burn a hole into her head.” she teased. You bit your lip as your cheeks flushed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You mutter unconvincingly. You knew you weren’t being subtle, but at this point, you didn’t care. Your best friend, your first actual best friend, was seated no more than 15 feet in front of you.

Sarah rolls her eyes at your stubbornness. “C’mon bro, you're practically drooling.”

You shake your head. “I know her.” is all you say. Sarah shakes her head, giggling at your antics. “Yeah, everyone does. Her high school stats are off the charts.” You nod, although you’re not surprised. You’d watch Kate play in middle school, and she was a beast then, so you could only imagine what a powerhouse she was now.

And you were right. Kate and Caitlin dominated the entire game, piggy-backing off of each other, getting assist after assist. Whether it was Caitlin passing it behind-the-back to Kate, or Kate doing a no-look pass to Caitlin. The stadium was louder than you’ve ever heard it, most of the ruckus coming from the student section as they cheered on the freshman and their beloved Caitlin Clark.

The duo scored a total of 98 points together, and along with the rest of the team, Iowa won with 112 points, beating the opposing team by 67 points. The crowd storms the court, and you sit and watch as thousands of people in yellow and black attire swarm the players.

You and your roommates stay behind, as Devon waits for the people to clear out so she can hug her girlfriend. Eventually, most of the audience cleared out, only a couple of fans lingering. You take a deep breath as your roommates stand and make their way to Caitlin and Kate, who are laughing about something together.

Kate’s laughter is like music to your ears, a sound that almost makes you cry as an overwhelming amount of memories of hearing that beautiful noise every day swarm your brain.

You stand a little farther back as Devon goes up and hugs her girlfriend from behind, eliciting a yelp from a startled Caitlin. Caitlin turns around, hugging her girlfriend before kissing her passionately. You’d be disgusted, but you're far too distracted because at this point, the attention from Kate is on you.

You both stared at each other for a second before she spoke. “Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked. Her voice is just as amazing as you remembered it to be, only slightly deeper. You smiled nervously as you felt tears well in your eyes.

“I’d hope so. My brother used to drive to take us to the Phillips gas station, and you’d force him to buy you Skittles.” You smile as you watch her eyebrows furrow before they light up with excitement, just like they used to.

“No fucki-” she cuts herself off by jumping on you. Your hands go instinctively to catch her, hooking your hands under her thighs. Kate buries her face in your neck, squealing as she squeezes you as if you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“I can’t believe…there’s- how are you here right now?” She asked as she pulled away from your neck. You’re still holding her, and you know for a fact that if you weren’t in shape, you’d be tired, but because of the workouts your coach has you doing, you’re able to hold her with ease.

“After the move, I got into soccer… it turns out I was pretty good, and they gave me a scholarship.” You say, looking up at her. She grins at you. “That’s amazing! After you stopped sending me letters, I assumed you had forgotten about me.”

Your eyebrows furrow at this. “Wait, what? No, I kept sending you stuff, I just stopped getting stuff back, so I just thought you got busy.”

She shakes her head. “I never got any of them.”

“Really?”

“Not one.”

You shake your head as you put her down. “I don’t know why, I wrote to you every day.” Her arms stayed around your neck as your hands navigated to her waist, resting there as you two looked at each other.

Kate bites her lips in thought but shakes her head, pulling you into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so happy you're here.” Your heart swells at this, hearing those words healed every single ounce of doubt about her that you’d ever had. She didn’t forget about you, she was in the same boat as you, waiting for a response. For years.

“I missed you so fucking much.” You whisper, finally letting tears fall. Kate hears the way your voice shakes and pulls away. She looks at you with sympathy.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers. You shake your head, shaking off her apology. “Not your fault.”

She smiles at you, and you're both looking in each other's eyes for a moment.

Everything freezes. This is the girl you grew up with. The girl who kicked the boy who purposely stepped on your brand new kicks with his muddy shoes. This was the girl who made fun of you for your shitty spelling, the girl who made you feel at home, even while yours was falling apart.

You look in her eyes and you realize home is not always a place. Sometimes home is a person.

Your rock. Your home. Your person.

And she is all of the above.

______________________________

taglist: @bueckerslover @wintersstan @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @breeloveschris

#kate martin x fem reader #kate martin #kate martin x reader #wcbb x reader #wcbb #iowa wbb #ncaa wbb #wbb #iowa hawkeyes #patsworks

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starry-bi-sky · 6 months ago

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DPxDC Masterpost

Almost all of my DPDC posts have the #Danny Fenton is Not the Ghost King tags, barring perhaps my earliest aus like my Thomas Wayne Au (which will be included in the post). This tag includes art i've made, asks i've answered, and non-fic au posts I've created. This is my main tag!

DPxDC posts under the main tag that don't have their own tag: Danny's Life-Changing Cross-Dimensional Roadtrip with A De-Aged Batman Danny is also Bruce Wayne (Starry goes back to their middle school roots) Danny being the first batkid (if i can get the creative juices flowing I will expand on this. mark my words) There is a Damian clone LOOSE in Amity Park. Oh wait, Danny's got him.

My Biggest DPxDC Aus #Danny Fenton is a Clone: all my posts talking about clone!Danny.

Clone Danny Masterpost: previously my pinned post. A no-powers au where Danny is also a clone of Bruce Wayne, also includes some clone^2

#Clone^2: Clone Damian + Clone Danny au combined, explores themes like identity, found family, and growing into your own as a person. Starting post Here.

#Childhood Friends Au or #Cfau: A childhood friends dead on main au that explores grief, how it may change a person, and how growing up in Crime Alley changed Danny. Contains heavier themes like smoking and mild violence.

#Danyal Al Ghul Au: Mostly contains my au where Danny is not Damian's twin, but his older brother! An excuse for me to delve into the psychological effects that growing up in the League would have on Danny that I don't really see in other DAG aus. Putting the 'assassin' in 'raised by assassins'.

My Minor DPxDC Aus Danny Fenton is Thomas Wayne: an oldie but a goodie! An reveal gone wrong au where Danny decides to go by his middle name 'Thomas' shortly after the events of TUE, and leaves Amity Park two years later. He finds out that Vlad cloned him again and finds an infant in the lab. Danny takes the baby, names him Bruce, and ends up adopted by the Waynes.

#Danny Fenton is Jason Todd au: An au where Danny is Jason Todd! He was adopted by the Fentons shortly after the events of the carjacking.

#Older Brother Danny: contains all of my aus where Danny is an Older Brother. This currently includes only my DAG posts but it's not limited to Danyal Al Ghul.

#Changeling Danny: a half-ghost? oh, wait, no. that's a changeling. even worse! Danny's got latent fey blood from a Fenton getting freaky with a faerie some dozen generations ago, and it reactivated with a fervor when he had his accident! Instead of a halfa, he became one of the Fair Folk.

#Blood blossom au: currently the name for the time being. A Nightingale/First Batkid au where Vlad poisons Danny with blood blossom extract, and it results in Danny running to Batman! Currently only one post, but it has a lot of branching pathways in the reblogs. Batdad centered! Now comes with its own fanfic!

#tales of the passerine: the official au name for my "Danny being the first batkid" post! This au is what inspired changeling Danny. It's the idea that Danny was the first to be adopted by Bruce, and features me favoring batdad over "lmfao Danny goes fuck you bruce and adopts the other kids" au. Because I want batdad.

(Nightingale is, so far, the official vigilante name for the Eldest Batkid Danny concept on my blog.)

#mother of monsters danny: specifically its mother of monsters dan but i digress. I was messing around with my fem!Danyal au and boom! Her evil timeline self is Layal, the terrifying Mother of Monsters who raises any manner of monstrous beasts. I love her <3

#martha knight au same song, different dance! This is a fem danny version of my aforementioned "Danny is Thomas Wayne" au. Except this time around, Danny is Martha! Arguably my favorite between the two, I feel like I'm able to do more with her than Thomas. Her au's vibe is After All by Christine Ebersole

Bonus Excerpt: a ficlet I made in response to a DPxDC Dead on Main prompt! It's not under the main tag as I didn't make the post, however it can be found if you search #fem danny fenton on my blog. I actually really love this idea so I may make it its own tag in the future.

#dpxdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc masterpost #starry's au masterposts #maybe i should make individual masterposts for the bigger aus? Like for CFAU. Danyal Al Ghul. and Clone^2. those are my Big Three rn <3 #danyal al ghul is my main muse for my drawings because this fucker is weirdly the easiest one to draw out of all the danny's. which i dont #get. the hardest danny to draw is fucking CFAU DANNY. It's the undercut its the damn undercut. also i can't get his face shape right??#for some reason?? clone danny is a hit or miss.

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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sometimes i think about the span of human existence and how if you spread your arms out in a long line and said my body is acting as a poem of all the universe's birthdays, the smallest sliver of your furthest nail would be our entire history as humans. and you, doing this, feeling your sternum crack into place because you're-getting-old and all of your bones crunch these days: you are the universe, measuring its own timeline. you're the memory of a starburst saying i gave birth to humans at the tip of my finger.

and i think about how crocodiles have been around for way longer than that fingernail and how sharks have been here forever too and how there are sea cucumbers that understand time like an angel would; their ages so astronomically long that i get dizzy looking down into them. i think about my dog, and how i am so fantastically ancient to him (an impossible number, staggering) and how, at the same time, i can order my life in eras of pets-i-have-loved and how my childhood died when my cat did.

and i wonder if the earth does the same thing, if nature keeps time in epochs. if the tree in the house where i grew up said oh a new family and got upset when one by one we all left for college and left behind our climbing and screaming and birdhouses. that same tree collapsed during a bad storm this winter; heartbroken. the whole inside was a hull, shivering and empty. it missed our roof by a whisper, almost like it held itself together so it couldn't pass a hole into the house it's been looking into for years now. the people who took it away clicked their teeth. it was a hundred years old, at least.

there are things that went extinct in my lifetime. there are memories that don't extend to the tip of the finger. four years ago, for the first time: i saw a bald eagle in the wild. ever since they've been sprouting strangely in my life, their origami frames hunched in a racket of brown feathers. something in the motion of wild animals braced against the new england weather - like we all (all of nature, all of the fingertip) have the same shared hate when it's cold sorrow. like in years and years and years of history we never really evolved a better method than to close your eyes and brace yourself against it.

i saw a butterfly today, staggering drunkenly in the early spring air. it's too early for her other friends. i want to tuck her back into bed and say it's not your time yet! her life like a pinprick in my own. in butterfly school they'd have to stretch out their scales and say - at the end of your furthest wing is where you are in the life of a human. she is in my life, isn't she. something about how my heart seized at the sight of her, so brave and lonely and unfair; and how it snowed yesterday (and will snow again, probably), and how, in spite of that, she was out there and flying.

something about waking up this morning and thinking - i'm too old for this. how my hips and knees and back all make new noises. how the other day at a grocery store i picked up the gloves an older woman had dropped, how she'd laughed and thanked me - i can't bend down like you young folks anymore.

something about the theory that there's been no visible life on other planets because we are too early. that we are the first butterfly of spring. all this bravery. we know it is probably hopeless, and still we go. breathless, the same tactic - we brace against the cold.

#spilled ink #sat down to write about you #wrote about how crocodiles can climb trees oops

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azure-cherie · 8 months ago

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PAC : Who of the nine Greek muses do you embody ? A message from the muse

➪Pile : 1-2-3 ☟︎︎︎ 4-5-6 ☟︎︎︎ 7-8-9

Hii loves how have you been , I'm back again with a reading, I hope you enjoy this please choose with your intuition and take what resonates , Reblogs, comments feedbacks everything is highly appreciated ❤️

If you liked this and would like to book or would want a bigger reading on the same topic :

Masterlist , paid readings , paid readings 2

Pile 1 :

Muse of music and lyric poetry

Channelled messages: " let go of societal restraints " , " paint the canvas of your life , write a poem about a wall " , " often see yourself as an ancient women of honour " , " feed the doves "

She comes forth to tell you about your potential how you're a very meditative being , you are so good at chanelling and you should do it more often , ask her to be your guide and write down all that comes through to you flow in your thinking and the ideas that come forth

Lean more into the devotional aspect of your life , see everything with the vibration of love. The trees the humans the animals , devote more into self love and worship the gods you already do .

Learn the right way to connect to the moon , you're in your journey and this is one of the crucial times , you're almost at the end of a karmic cycle stay stiff and strong

Don't get into arguments , if you do have mishaps with someone , lean into releasing the anger through creating music or producing tunes .

Take practical approaches to life , if someone says no to you do the thing on your own , your guides are always taking care of you .

Pile 2 :

Muse of dance and choral poetry .

Channelled messages : " learn about the folk music and dances where you stay " , " when in the blues play the beats " , " give more to the society in forms of art " , " start the YouTube channel"

Your devotion towards your deity or your guides is really admirable and that is something that's one of your best qualities people online or in person admire your liking towards a deity you inspire them .

The calmness of mind that can be attained through yoga is something she wants you to do , imagine a blue beam of light when you meditate , she tells you to connect to your primordial life form your soul .

Know about the necessary sacrifices one has to do in their life , your sacrifices now will bring you rewards later , don't fall for instant gratification

Abundance is soon to come in your life but work on cultivating a sense of detachment towards money , obsession ruins everything.

There might me a rock bottom moment in your life soon , she asks you to remain in your path as a human and as a soul take the lessons and move on soon you will alchemize your pain into passion and glory . You transform everything you're a becon of light .

Pile 3 :

Muse of hymns and sacred poetry

Channelled messages : " Levitate " , " dream big " , " nice downtown tshirt " , " the life that one has is a sum and minus of that they do "

If you're interested in writing do it , there might be an opportunity approaching you soon in this sector , though there's a warning about a setback if you don't take the opportunity at the right time don't worry you'll do great believe in the power of wishes.

You might rekindle a childhood bond on the basis of liking of movies or songs .

Business sector might have new opportunities your fortune is about to change you're gonna have the power to do what you want in your life because you're the creator of it , your destiny is now on hold make the best use of free will.

Connect more to the oceans and moon , fireflies etc , be in nature more and stay grounded .

Honour your soul by serving the temple you're in your own body , take care of your body give it ample rest and food .

Pile 4 :

Muse of tragedy

Channelled messages : " Dwelling on past has no rewards " , " crazy is as good as the sane" , " time flowes and glows and you grow "

Don't choose a hard life away from your desires because you're scared of disappointing people your path is enlightened more as you connect more to yourself .

Give into dark feminine energy and live in your truth , if you remain often confused or scared work on your root chakra .

Connect more to your guides through paintings and leave offerings of metal , feathers , corn etc

It's time to finally shine you're going from the hermit to an influencer you're gonna be famous it might start small but it will build up .

Keep away from external influences that stop your growth drop bad friends and family .

Pile 5 :

Muse of love poetry

Channelled messages: eat healthy and enriching foods , read about the love you already behold , the depths of see are beautiful and so is your heart of depth.

Abundance in the sector of love is coming soon you're gonna make the haters jealous , might even win a pagent or competition.

You might have felt Beauty is your curse but life's gonna show you how it's not you're gonna be so hight so uplifted I see you shining like a star

One has to prepare for glory start by saying affirmations and working on your third eye and root chakra .

Read more about lovers from mythology like Persephone Hades , Aphrodite ares , Radha Krishna etc

The boons served by the goddess are yours to keep and no one can question that , you're being divinely blessed and you'll be happy and dancing soon .

Pile 6 :

Muse of comedy and Idyllic poetry

Chanelled messages: Search for the small joys, poppies , these boots are meant for walking , spring equinox fairy

There's a confirmation in case you wanna go for the acting sector , this sector will require a lot of hardwork .

There's also a warning regarding someone in your job your boss or your guru they might take credit for some assignment you did beware and if possible say no because that thing might get your superior a promotion

You are to search bliss in satisfaction about what you already have the moon is to be admired by you the power to be soked it , are you ready for the full moon .

You're intelligent and people really admire you for that , gemini energy.

Move in your life in your true path of light don't be afraid or dim your light , your aura might have hints of white colour .

Pile 7:

Muse of epic poetry

Chanelled messages: Blow the bubbles up , get into kitchen witchery, Artemis , cry me a river

Don't give people the benefit of the doubt if you don't like someone let them go .

Fame is eminent in your energy, life coaches might help you , your aunt is giving you good guidence follow her .

Do your school projects and specially eat tangerine and other fruits that make you feel happy

Serve the world and create peace each small step is a long one in the collective , small things create big impact do your part and be sure of the effects .

Moon water energy and full moon is great for you to invite luxuries in your life , ground your root chakra and connect to your third eye your ancestors will be sending you messages.

Pile 8 :

Muse of astronomy

Chanelled messages: Fly me to the moon , peals and sandbox , honesty is the best policy , go go cheerleader

The first message for you is to balance all your chakras it's crazy my oracle deck pulled all chakra cards omg I feel like there soon will be a kundalini awakening for you

You're almost in your last stage of awakening get into the cosmic dance of life your life is about to change , abundance is coming

Hard message to get through but someone in your relationship might be cheating or there might be someone who has an eye on your partner and might try to frame them . Only for some people

Listen to your higher self write a letter to them

Your path from now on is of the hermit it might be lonely but it's worth it discoveries are on your way in fields of history, psychology, quantum mechanics etc.

Pile 9 :

Muse of history

Chanelled messages: 13 missed calls , glow up is loading , search in the Egyptian archives , glow and peach coloured cheeks

The number six is significant, also specifically for someone there's this person who is delaying your glow up by doing some nasty as spell , might be a close friend

You are ignoring some signs from the universe , they're coming again and again and you're ignoring it look into it closely , you're elevating in your consciousness.

Your energy levels are high and you're matching ahead in your journey setbacks are never the end the sheer power of desire iss enough to keep going .

You're slowly climbing the stairs of life to become confident and assertive you might even call upon a partner soon who is very sure about themselves.

You should plant more trees and learn about them about their origination etc , i specifically get about Tulsi and the lore behind it . Some others would be eucalyptus, basil and marigold.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this

Have a great day/ night ♥️🌹

#pacreading #pac tarot #pac readings #pac #pick a card tarot #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card reading #pick a card #pick a pile #tarot card reading #tarot reading #tarot deck #tarot cards #tarot community #tarotblr

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ohnoitstbskyen · 29 days ago

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100 songs to get to know me

I posted this image over on the bluesky, and it got like 100 likes, so now here we are. I was going to write them all up here, but Tumblr imposes a 10 video limit on embeds per post which I find infuriating.

So! You can read the first ten entries here, but you can read the entire list here: https://tbskyen.bearblog.dev/100-songs-to-get-to-know-me/

1. ABBA - Lay All Your Love On Me

youtube

I genuinely don't quite know if my enjoyment of ABBA is something I came by honestly, or something which is simply genetically engineered into my Scandinavian soul. I remember hearing my mom blasting their songs on the home stereo in my childhood, and the association has put permanent nostalgia blinders on me for all of ABBA's greatest hits. Still, I think the beat is undeniable and the mournful tone of the chorus adds some real melancholy to the dramatic plea at the core of the song.

2. Afenginn - Oestrogenmanipuleret Basilisk

youtube

Afenginn describe themselves as "bastard etno-punk" which is probably as good a description as you're going to get. There's a lot of klezmer and eastern European folk influences here, but what is more important about Afenginn's best songs is that they go hard as f*ck and it's an absolute blast to dance to them at a show. They played this the first time I saw them live, and the rhythm comes back every time I hear it again. Good times!

3. Afenginn - Ralli in D Minor

youtube

With 100 slots to fill, I am giving myself permission to allocate two slots to Afenginn, and for the same reason. Ralli in D Minor is less of a dance tune to me, and more of a headbanger, but with a sufficiently loud subwoofer and a game crowd, you could f*ing mosh to this.

4. Anamanaguchi - Prom Night

youtube

I discovered Anamanaguchi as the composers of the title track to the Nerdist podcast back in the day, and being unfamiliar with the concept of chiptunes, I was drawn in initially by the sheer novelty of hearing the squeaks and bloops of my gaming childhood employed towards rock tunes and combined with "real" instruments.

Beyond the gimmick, though, Anamanaguchi won me over fully with the Scott Pilgrim game soundtrack, and then 2013's Endless Fantasy, where the gimmick of chiptune nostalgia noise (at least for me) finally coalesced into something that felt entirely like its own thing. Plus I'm a sucker for exactly this kind of bright dance pop, and Bianca Raquel's vocals here are a perfect match for the tone of the music.

5. Jennifer Hudson - Memory

youtube

2019s Cats is a fascinating fucking disaster. Tom Hooper is the worst director of musicals in my living memory, the abuse of the VFX staff extended beyond brutal crunch and absurd challenge imposed by a director who had no idea what the hell he was asking them to do all the way into an astonishingly arrogant and condescending joke from Rebel Wilson and James Corden at the expense of workers who were the last people at fault for the disaster that the movie became (look in the fucking mirror, Wilson and Corden, your performances were rancid).

Still, the silver lining of Cats is we got to hear Jennifer Hudson shake the world on its foundations with her rendition of Memory. I don't give a shit what anyone says, this performance is transcendent and no amount of institutional failure can dim its quality.

6. Annette Bjergfeldt - Min Bærende Bjælke

youtube

Annette is one of my mother's oldest friends, and a prolific singer-songwriter now turned author. I've been going to her concerts since I was a little child, and while I am absolutely not the target audience for any of it, it has stuck with me as part of my musical vocabulary deep into adulthood.

She has experimented with brass band accompaniment a few times, but for my money, nothing quite comes close to the floating, optimistic vibe of Min Bærende Bjælke. It sounds like a very particular kind of lasting romance, which of course is also what the lyrics are about.

7. Hozier - Blood Upon the Snow

youtube

We'll get more than one Hozier song on this list, but Blood Upon the Snow stands out to me as a song which easily transcends the videogame soundtrack promotional tie-in nature of its conception. Bear McCreary's hurdy gurdy and lyrics about surviving through adversity by holding on to existence with your teeth and nails... yeah, it hits with me. There's something real in that.

"The trees deny themselves nothing that makes them grow, no rainfall, no sunshine, no blood upon the snow." Something about that feels real.

8. The Beatles - Something

youtube

idk if I really need to write anything about George Harrison's most famous love song that hasn't been written more extensively by a million dad-rock enthusiasts before me.

I will say, this is one of the few songs I listen to regularly that justify the expensive audiophile headphones I invest in. There's a LOT to hear on a good, lossless, original mix of this song, if you're the kind of pervert who gets off to listening to a song a hundred times to focus on different parts of the soundscape. (it's me, I am the pervert)

9. Blink-182 - Adam's Song

youtube

I discovered a lot of my music taste as a young man from extremely low-resolution AMVs that my friend used to download off sketchy file-sharing sites. Blink-182 entered my musical lexicon through the one above, specifically, piggybacking off of my teenage love of Dragon Ball.

I never really grokked what the lyrics were actually about, until relistening to the song years later, but something about the minor-key wail of the thing really sat with my angsty teenage soul and has stuck with me ever since. I cannot listen to this song without that music video playing in my head, the song will forever belong to Vegeta.

There's remastered versions of this AMV out there, apparently, but if it's not 144p with tinny audio, it's just not right. That's not what the song is supposed to sound like, not to me.

10. Blink-182 - Miss You

youtube

Blink-182 is one of those bands I discovered via anime AMVs and listened to obsessively for a period as a teenager (The Offspring will show up later on this list), and then fell entirely out of touch with for years until discovering much later in life that they did, in fact, keep releasing music. I Miss You from their self-titled 2003 album felt, when I discovered it sometime in the early 2010s, like a much more mature and interesting sound from a band which had gotten stuck associated with my adolescent superpower kung-fu fantasies which I was, at the time, feeling a bit embarrassed about.

The song had a resurgence on TikTok a little while ago as a meme template, which made me listen to the albums again, and rediscover yet again that Blink-182 is, in fact, still putting out albums.

---

The rest of the list is here: https://tbskyen.bearblog.dev/100-songs-to-get-to-know-me/

#tb posting #Youtube #tb blog #music recommendation

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staybabblingbaby · 2 months ago

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Best Friend Protocol #9 (Bet part)

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: You're Felix's childhood friend, and you and he have been planning a visit to see him for his birthday for what feels like years now. Unfortunately, SKZ is a very busy group, and the week-long vacation you'd planned for doesn't seem possible. Until Felix decides to ask his bandmates a favor...

Word Count: All images, so N/A. Unless someone wants to make these accessible but I don't really know how.

Notes: I'm back! Did you miss me? I feel like it's been ages since I posted any writing but it's only been a few weeks ^^;; @thatgirlangelb gave me this idea, so everyone say thank you <<<333 You'll be seeing that phrase a lot coming up lol. Love you my beautiful daughter <3 I actually like this one quite a bit. Seungmin is my favorite little shit i love him so much <3 Can I tell y'all a weird story? Don't judge me ok? This chapter got written bc of Banana Pie. I've been so stressed out lately I couldn't bring myself to even open my app. But my roommate accidentally ordered 3 bunches of bananas (she wanted 3 individual bananas) and they were going bad so I stole them and stress baked 2 full sized pies and 3 mini ones. It took 6 hours. I felt so much better afterwards. Anyways this one is Bet Part, but in my heart it's Pie Part. I will have to dedicate a chapter in the future to Felix baking Pie w Reader abt it.

Warnings: She/Her Reader.

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks

Additional Note: I'm always taking interaction requests. Just fyi

Masterlist | Prev Part | Next Part

Worm List! ( (づ￣ ³￣)づ) @thatgirlangelb @hyeon-yi , @missvanjii, @velvetmoonlght, @hanniemylovelyquokka , @vegetablesarefuntables, @scribblesnsketches05, @kkamismom12, @alexateurmom, @baribaaari,

If your blog is in Red its bc Tumblr won't let me tag you! It looks fine when I edit it and then it doesn't like me anymore when it posts T^T

Perma Tag List: the lovely @mbioooo0000 <3

#BFPSMAU #skz fake texts #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz fanfic #w.i.p fic #skz fic #w.i.p #baby writes #stray kids fake texts #smau #skz smau #stray kids smau #fake texts

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thebluester2020 · 4 months ago

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[SDV] "Sins of the Guilty"

Summary: SDV Bachelors lusting over the nun that's recently come to visit Pelican Town Warning(s): Not proofread, Sacrilege of nuns, Sub!Sebastion [Reader is kinda a dom in his part], Sebastion doesn't have active sex with the reader, it's only imagined, I kinda favored Sebastion's part ngl, Dom!Shane [The usual lol], This is the filthiest thing I've ever written ngl, Elliot is the king of making readers squirt fight me on that, Elliot is a simp low-key, Bachelors loosely follow the plot of the verses, Unprotected sex [Wrap it before you tap it folks], Pure filth, Porn with plot. Word count: 8,285 wordsSide note(s): Inspired by the fact that- I like nuns and priests man. Going to religious schools all your childhood will do that 💀. Also, sorry for not including all the bachelors. I mostly wanted to focus on those who I think would struggle the most with being presented with a pretty nun in front of them cause it's more fun that way pfft.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Shane - "Hopeless Sinner" 1 Peter 5:8 - Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour.

♡ - Never in his life had Shane been a religious man.

Too much had happened in his life for him to even consider the possibility of a god, and even if there was such a thing? There was no way that they'd look down favorably upon them, especially with all the sins that weighed down his soul.

And he had a lot.

He was a drunk, he could hardly keep his eyes open half of the time. It was common for him to stink, absolutely reek of alcohol and past missed showers and he far too commonly let his alcoholism get him into frequent situations that he would only come to regret the next day. And to add to that list of sins? He wasn't exactly a people person.

He was rude and curt, saw people as an annoyance and treated them like such. He wasn't open to hearing people be kind to him much less try to suggest ways to change himself. The only time he felt semblances of happiness was when he was with his niece and even then? Those times were fleeting and brief, all because of his aforementioned addictions to the bottle.

And...despite all of that, all those troubles...he wasn't intent on changing.

In his eyes? He was a lost cause, too far gone and there was no point in expending energy on something that was damaged. And he only doubled down on that ideology when rumors began to circulate that a nun was going to visit the town for a little while. He even made it a mission to avoid any places where you could've possibly been at!

The last thing Shane needed was some old woman lecturing on the goodness of Yoba and the sins that came with drinking. How that "he wasn't too far gone" and that he could be "saved", all if he just believed and dedicated himself enough.

At least...until he saw you in person one day outside Pierre's shop on his way to get some cans of beer.

. . .

"You must be Shane, I'm Sister Y/N. It's a pleasure to meet you!"

It was like the entire world paused for the briefest of moments.

Just enough for him to truly take in your features the moment he saw you, right in front of Pierre's shop no doubt.

Your smile alone could have chased away the darkest of storms and replace it with a sun that shined as much as your eyes did. They were as wide and big as a dog looking up at its owner, he thought. As if you were expecting some type of praise or reward for greeting him with so much enthusiasm. You were slender-figured but graced with long legs, your skin appeared smooth and your lips were pink and full. Yet as Shane looked back down, he was shocked that you weren't wearing a long black dress like he had thought nuns wore but...shorts-

"Shane? Are you alright?"

"Huh? Y-Yeah...I'm fine." He cleared his throat. "How in the hell do you know my name anyway?" He continued, surprised when you didn't flinch at his rude tone.

"The Church made sure to brief me on people's faces and names before I came to visit!" Of course they did…though, he didn’t know whether or not to complain at this fact or to allow himself to silently be happy in a way. After all, it wasn’t everyday that someone cute knew his name off the bat, much less greeted him with a smile that didn’t have badly hidden disdain or disgust behind it.

“Anyway…” You cleared your throat. “You should come to service this Sunday! It’ll be my first one in the valley and I’d love to have everyone there, I-if possible of course.”

He clicked his tongue.

At the very most? He’d think about it.

“Maybe,” Then, he walked past you.

. . .

After the two of you first met, Shane tried avoiding you the rest of the week until Sunday passed him by.

But though be was successfully avoiding you physically, mentally was a whole other issue as no matter what he did? No matter how much alcohol he drank, you’d always find a way to squeeze your way into his thoughts. When he cringed at his own smell at times, suddenly he’d would be hit with a wave of grace as he remembered the smell of your light perfume. It was even beginning to infect his dreams.

Dreams that…were far more pleasant as of late.

In his dreams, you’d sit with him and talk out in some meadow somewhere. Perhaps you’d go on and on about the book of Yoba all the while you steadily inched closer and closer to him before you’d place a hand on his arm. Your chest touching him as your sweet words grew more sensual, forgoing the talk of holiness to instead invite Shane to touch you through your clothes.

But before getting to the good part?

He’d always wake up, left with an aching hard-on and his alarm screaming at him to get ready for work.

That was the first and possibly the only time that Shane began to believe that there may have been such a thing as "The Devil". After all, why else would he suddenly have these thoughts of someone who just arrived in town a few days ago? Especially someone so out of his league?! Also, the two of you only met once and you probably didn't even remember his name!

But after the fourth time of waking up, his own brain once again blue-balling him?

He knew he had to see you in person.

Even if it was just to hear your voice again.

. . .

So, the next day, he went to the shrine of Yoba where he knew you'd be.

And the second he knocked on the door, you responded with a gentle "Come in" before he stepped inside. And...he couldn't help but feel like a black sheep amongst all the holy symbols and the gentle sound of a religious choir playing from a phone, suddenly, the paranoia of Yoba knowing about Shane's unholy imagination of you began to glare up. He felt as if he was going to burst into flames as punishment for daring to offend a sacred place with his presence!

Once he had turned a corner and saw you sitting on a pew, facing the statue of Yoba however...all of a sudden, he was calm and he remembered why he was there.

He simply wanted to confess his sins and have someone hear him out.

"Shane?" You said as you turned around, a smile immediately jumping onto your features. "I thought that was you! It's easy to recognize grumpy voices in this town."

He rolled his eyes.

"Can I help you with anything? What's going on?"

When he opened his mouth, he realize that he didn't have a single clue about how to admit that he wanted to confess his sins. Especially when those sins revolved around you (not that he'd ever dare to say that part out loud). "I uh...want to confess my sins."

Your smile grew. "Oh? Please, sit." You scooted over on your pew before tapping the space next to you.

Obediently, he sat down but a considerable distance away from you. His hands started to sweat and shake, how was he supposed to confess that you were the source of his sins?! How was he going to tell the pure nun of the valley that he was struggling not to masturbate to you defiling yourself on his unworthy cock? The imagination of your moans combined with the image of you begging him to fuck you against the shrine of Yoba plagued his mind. And what's worse?

He didn't feel an ounce of guilt for it really...he just wanted to be around you. Be it fuel for the mind or something more, he just didn't know.

"...Something tells me that you didn't come to confess." You spoke breaking the silence and snapping him from his thoughts.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Did he do something to give himself away?

"How do you-"

"I've been doing this for a while, you tend to pick up clues." You chuckled. "So tell me, what's really going on? I'm a good listener."

The moment you turned around and looked at him, his breath hitched in his throat as his dream from the night prior suddenly flashed in the forefront of his mind. Your pretty pink lips soaked and glistening from your spit whilst you panted heavily like a bitch in heat, practically for him to do something to you, anything to you. Already, he started to feel his cock twitch inside his boxers, causing Shane to quickly clear his throat and look in front of him.

He tried to think about anything else to keep himself from getting hard in front of you.

"...I've been having weird dreams." He finally admitted. "Dreams that aren't...good."

You hummed to yourself for a moment before you responded. "Like..."I may do something awful" type of bad or another type?"

"Lustful." He muttered.

Like the flip of a dime, it felt like the atmosphere in the room changed.

"You've been lusting after someone?"

He nodded his head.

"Who?"

"Does it matter?" He said snappily, eliciting a chuckle from you.

"Don't be so snappy, I like a bit of gossip as much as the next person..." You scooted closer. "Though, if you've been struggling with these thoughts then...the correct thing for me to say as a nun is to suggest you to stop. To be tempted by the flesh is a sin, your thoughts should never be focused on such things."

Finally, Shane forced himself to look at you, fully expecting you to look at him with some type of reprimanding disgust in your eyes but...he was shocked when he found nothing of the sort. You looked at him like a tiger would eye a piece of prey. "But...?" Shane said.

"But, I as an individual say that you should pursue this person. Who knows, she may like you."

Now that made him snort, there was no way that you would like a drunk like him. He was certain of that. "I'm the town drunk, why would she— you like me?" He decided to be upfront, to which you met his words with shock for a moment before you offered him a simple smile in return.

"Nuns have needs too, and who said this had to be a permanent thing? I'll only be in town for a few more weeks, all your sins will simply...wash away, stay between us, once I leave."

It felt like his dream was becoming truer by the second. Only...you were naughtier than what he originally assumed based on your appearance, but it added to the charm, and with each sugar-coated word that fell from your pretty lips, the further his mind slipped into depravity and what he wanted to do with you as he felt his cock chub up against his thigh. After all, when was the last time he'd gotten his rocks off? His right hand and his brain could only stave off the longing for a real tight cunt for so long!

And as he watched you start to lift your dress and slip your panties down your legs.

He immediately took the plunge.

. . .

"F-Fuck!" You cried out as your legs were spread, Shane on his knees as his lapped at your cunt like a man-starved.

And he might as well have been.

He felt as if he had been in a desert for months and had finally spotted an oasis, your slick upon his tongue was sweet and dripped from your pussy like a nonstop faucet, something that he wasn't going to dare let go to waste as he alternated between tongue-fucking your sex with his tongue and moving onto sucking your clit whilst his calloused fingers plunged in and out of your weeping hole.

And you couldn't get enough of it.

"Sooooo d-deeep...." You whined as your eyes started to roll into the back of your head.

Shane's resolve would've snapped if he hadn't been so focused on both eating yu out and prepping you to take his leaking cock, the sound of you, a nun sounding so fucked out and horny...practically crying out for his tongue and fingers made him rut into the air to try and alleviate the tight feeling within' his pants.

"S-Shane...I'm- I'm cumming-" Your high-pitched whine suddenly died on your lips when Shane stopped pistoning his fingers in and out of you as he stood and shredded his clothes.

"No you aren't lil' slut, you'll be doing that on my dick." He grumbled, his hands practically shaking from how eager he was to get inside of you before he finally freed his dick from its confines and lined himself up to your entrance, his hand coming up to press against the middle of your leg and push it till it nearly touched your chest.

Your mouth opened in a wide O at the size of him, causing the man to chuckle.

"Never had something this big in your pussy?"

You unconsciously shook your head but, your pussy nonetheless twitched in eagerness for the man's cock. Despite Shane's eagerness though, he made sure to be as gentle as he could be with you as he gently pressed his mushroom tip against your hole, the feeling sending a rush of electricity over your skin at the feeling of a cock touching your pussy.

It was strange and...it felt hot. Hotter than what you expected it to be.

Shane gripped his cock at the base before beginning to press his tip against your hole, steadily inserting it into your hole before thrusting forward a little as he steadily filled you. The man groaned at the feeling of your wet walls clenching onto him, almost as if you didn't want to let him go despite you possibly being the first man you've ever been with. "L-Loosen up..." He whispered, already feeling a knot begin to form and tighten in his stomach.

It seemed he hadn't been laid longer than what he originally thought. It took ever ounce of Shane's strength and will not to fuck you like a toy, to be as gentle as he could be until he was certain you were ready to be fucked into the pew like you were begging him to when he first started to eat you out.

Then again, you weren't going to last long either as you had just recently had your orgasm denied.

"Y-You're too big..." You whispered, trying to relax your cunt like instructed to but it hardly seemed to do anything at all. You moaned when you felt Shane's cock twitch at your words, a cocky smirk crawling onto his stubbled features as he leaned closer to you. "I'm big huh?"

You nodded your head breathlessly, a moan tearing from your throat when Shane finally bottomed out inside of you, his hips pressing against your ass whilst he tightened his grip on your leg to keep you from trying to escape the stretch his dick gave you.

"J-Just fuck me..." You hissed, shooting a glare to try and chase your denied orgasm. And the man gladly did as you wished, slowly pulling himself out of you before suddenly slamming back into you, almost knocking the air from your very lungs before he immediately went into a harsh and brutal pace. Shane almost had a mind to tease how you looked, your lips flushed and lips wet from your shared salvia from your earlier kissing session.

Your moans were loud and unbridled, to the point where even he was worrying about whether or not your slutty moans would attract unneeded attention to the shrine!

But as his balls slapped against your ass, the sensation in combination with your cute moans only served to make his balls tighten in anticipation of his impending orgasm. "Oh Yob, r-right there!" You yelped out when Shane suddenly positioned himself to fuck into you deeper, his cock slamming into the deepest part of you with each thrust. Shane then moved his hand down from its position on your leg to your hips, using the leverage to pull you onto his cock as he threw his head back to let out a drawn-out groan.

"Fuuuuccckkkk..." He moaned, his mouth hanging open before he lazily looked back down at you, smiling at your fucked out expression as he spotted drool beginning to dribble out from the corner of your lips.

At that moment, his thumb reached to wipe the drool from the corner of your lips before plucking the digit into his mouth with a smirk at your taste. "Can't believe how lucky I am...Yoba must be real," Shane snickered. "I get to fuck one of his cute lil' slutty nuns...especially one that doesn't know what to do with herself when presented with a real dick in her cunt." He continued as the need to fill you up grew with each thrust.

You nodded stupidly, Shane had an urge to kiss you but...your moans sounded too good for him to risk messing up his position and ruining your pleasure that was causing you to cry out so abashedly.

"C-Cummin-" Your climax hit you like a freight train as your body suddenly went rigid. Your cunt spasmed and clenched impossibly tighter around Shane's cock like a vice grip, nearly making him stutter in his movements as you came around his cock. "Y-Yoba-" He hissed, sucking in his bottom lip as he leaned forward a little at the sheer pleasure your spasming cunt brought him.

Shane only managed a few more thrusts before he spilled into you, his stomach clenching and his body stilling as if it were putting all its remaining energy into filling you up.

A breath he didn't even know he was holding released when he finished and looked back at you. Your gaze was unfocused as your cheeks were flushed red and spit trailed down the corners of your lips.

"Oi, you with me?" Shane said as he pinched your cheeks together with his hand, gently shaking you to try and snap you out of your daze.

You could only respond with a soft moan before you looked at him but not at him. He chuckled, he would accept it for now. He just needed to get you dressed, after all...he definitely wanted to discuss if his confessions with you could be a regular thing, at least...until you left of course.

Elliot - "Forbidden Desires" Proverbs 6:25 - Do not desire her beauty in your heart, and do not let her capture you with her eyelashes;

♡ - When Elliot and you first met. It was on the beach of all things.

Out on the wooden pier that overlooked the ocean. Frequently, the writer would visit here to collect his thoughts for his writing and try to find inspiration from the gentle waves that crashed lightly against the pier and beach alike. Yet it was when he turned his head to the side briefly, the world suddenly seemed to stop on its axis.

He thought you were gorgeous.

Baked in the backdrop light from the sun, he nearly thought you had a halo on your head. Glowing with your holiness that made all the features on your face that much softer, like the way your hooded eyes looked out across the water almost longingly as if you were beckoning for a wave to come and carry you somewhere else. How pieces of your hair escaped your veil and blew with the sea breeze along with your dress.

The longer he admired you quietly, the more he thought you were an ethereal spirit, completely unaware of how you were tempting him despite your outfit telling him that you were the sister that the town had been expecting for about a week now. It was your job to be a role model as to how not to sin.

Yet...he wanted to do the opposite- "Are you going to keep looking at me, or will you say hello?" Your voice snapped Elliot from his thoughts before he finally noticed you were looking at him with a curious but soft gaze, a smile gracing your features when you saw how his cheeks began to tint red.

"E-Excuse me." He said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I was just in shock, I wasn't expecting the long-awaited nun to be at the beach."

As the two of you stood side by side, he noticed how you were shorter than himself. "Oh," You said. "Did I interrupt your alone time?" You smiled.

Elliot smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, I don't think you could ever do that." He responded, your mouth hanging open a little as a blush of your own started to coat your cheeks. It was then that Elliot quickly cleared his throat and tried to find a way to apologize. It seemed like he wasn't himself, his thoughts kept coming out before he could fully think about whether he could say them or not!

"Sorry, I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable."

You then turned your body fully to face him. "Oh, you're not doing that. I find your forwardness charming." You were dangerous for Elliot's heart, the way you looked up at him made his mouth dry while equally making him feel as if he were floating amongst the clouds. Up until you caught his attention again with a laugh. "What's your name?"

"Elliot," He answered immediately.

"Y/N." You responded. "It'll be hard for me to come to the beach with my duties and all...you should try visiting the shrine in the Pierre's shop. I'll be there most of the time."

"How long will you be staying in town?"

"Two weeks." He struggled not to immediately frown at that answer, all while he simultaneously struggled to not throw a curse at Yoba for making him feel this strongly about one of his devoted followers. Elliot could be frank with himself, he knew that you would be in his every waking thought from this point onward. All he'd think about is how to get closer to you, get to know you and so much more!

"I hope you'll enjoy your two weeks here then sister." He finally said.

"Oh, I'm certain I will." Then you turned to walk away, your faint perfume tickling Elliot's nose as he was left along with his thoughts, his thoughts settling on the newfound fact that you were his muse.

All of a sudden, his inspiration to write came to him like rushing waves during a typhoon. Stories of how a man fell into a forbidden relationship with a woman, or perhaps a shorter tale of how a man falls in love with a spirit, someone he longed for but knew he couldn't ultimately have. Yet, as all the thoughts flew through his mind. One thing was for certain, you left him with a burning ache in his pants.

. . .

Later that night, he admittedly felt slightly guilty for palming himself over his pants at the thought of you. The pretty nun with the soft voice and heavenly features, although Elliot tried not to think too hard about your words from earlier, to not misunderstand how you phrased your words or how you looked at him as a signal for something more...the image in his head was far too addicting to let go so easily.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock while he sucked at your breasts, planting kisses all over your body as you moaned for more...was it wrong of him to have those thoughts? Then again, surely you knew how you sounded when you spoke to him on the beach! You sounded like you were interested in him! That you may have wanted to pursue something more with—

"Ah...look at me," Elliot murmured to himself, running his fingers through his hair as he scoffed at how ridiculous his thoughts were.

You were a nun.

You were just being friendly!

What he was doing was wrong. To think about a holy sister was potentially one of the greatest sins (at least, to what he knew about the book of Yoba).

Perhaps he needed Yoba more than he realized.

. . .

And that’s what prompted him to visit Pierre’s shop three days later, specifically where he knew you’d be, the Shrine of Yoba.

Elliot’s plans were simple, to confess his sins, receive your judgement and advice, then leave. Of course though, he’s leave out the part where his thoughts revolved around you despite the fact the both of you hadn’t known each other for that long. But once he was standing right in front of the door that would lead into the shrine…he felt like his entire body had frozen in place.

Were you actually a nun or secretly a demon? He thought.

No person should ever have power over another like this. But the moment Elliot’s nerves loosened up a little, he quickly knocked a few times on the door before a gentle “Come in” could be heard from inside, causing him to walk in before he immediately saw you getting up from your kneeling position at the shrine.

You smoothened out your clothes and then looked at Elliot with the same angelic look you gave him the first time you met him. “Elliot?” You said. “You came.”

He nodded his head, keeping his head down just long enough in an attempt to ease his blushing. “I figured I was overdue for confessing my sins.”

“Don’t be silly,” You chuckled. “We all come and confess our sins when we’re ready, there’s no pressure.”

It was easy for you to say, he thought.

You weren’t the one who was losing sleep over imagining the naked form of the person you just met. And as Elliot walked to sit on one of the pews, the more he couldn’t help but think that this may have been a bad idea. Although your attire was similar to what you wore on the beach, he didn’t know if his eyes were tricking him or not but…your clothing appeared…tighter.

Around your chest to be more precise and it was driving him nuts.

He silently begged Yoba that you wouldn’t come close enough to where you’d be able to spot his steadily growing hard-on. And thankfully, you kept your distance via sitting on the pew just in front of him with your back turned.

“Now, you may confess when you’re ready to begin.” You murmured a quick prayer before clearing your throat as a sign you were attentive and listening.

Elliot sighed. "Sister, I've been...well- I've had unholy thoughts as of late. Thought that revolve around a woman that I'm infatuated with."

When you didn't say anything in response, he continued.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever been blessed to see. But it would be wrong for me to pursue a relationship with her."

That was when you spoke. "May I ask why?"

Elliot's throat bobbed up and down at the question. "She's a nun."

The silence that followed was so loud that it nearly rang in his ears. Yet, as you turned around to face him, his mouth immediately fell open to apologize until a certain glint flashed in your ears as you looked at him with a smile, a finger tugging at the collar of your uniform.

"And...what do you want to do with this nun?"

"I want to kiss her." At his confession, it was like a string had broken before you and Elliot's lips crashed together. In the writer's mind, it was as if your lips were meant to be with his own, the taste of your mint-flavored lipstick addicting to his tastebuds as he felt around in your mouth. Your breathing became heavier, pressing yourself as close to Elliot as you possibly could despite the pew that still separated the two of you. "What else do you want to do to me?" You panted when you both separated, your breaths labored and heavy as a single string of spit still connected you two.

Elliot silently eyed the rest of your body.

"May I show you, sister?"

. . .

Had you known the man you met a few days ago was capable of this. You would've fucked him right then and there out on that wooden pier.

The position Elliot currently had you in was making you see stars and galaxies behind your eyes, your legs spread out on his lips as he held you tight against his form, almost as if he were afraid you'd disappear right before his eyes whilst he fucked up into you like a man on a mission. Each thrust making his cock assault your sweet spot deep inside you, you felt as if your organs were molding and reshaping themselves just to better fit Elliot's cock.

"Y-Yoba's name..." He whispered hotly against your neck, pressing wet open-mouthed kisses against the side of your neck and all the way down to your exposed collarbones from him hastily pulling down the front of your dress. "Y-You're so tight-" Elliot grit his teeth together as he groaned against your skin.

However, each time he fucked up into you, the sound of your sexes meeting reverberated throughout the small area of the shrine as your slick poured down from your pussy to pool and coat the front of Elliot's thighs, you were starting to...feel something.

A certain coil beginning to tighten tighter and tighter by the second in your stomach.

Compared to the orgasms you've given yourself in the past, privately when you were in your room or in an area you were certain was vacant of other people. This one was more intense and threatened to wash over you with such a force that you worried you'd pass out from the intensity! But, it was hard to voice such a worry when you were being fucked to the point that you couldn't utter a single syllable, to where you nearly had a mind to forgo this life and simply be the plaything of Elliot for the rest of your days.

"E-Elliot...!" You keened as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, Elliot's thrusts somehow growing even more ruthless as he tucked his face into the valley between your breasts.

"Shit..." You managed to hear him breathe out.

Your mouth steadily started to form a large O shape as the coil inside your tummy tightened more and more until it finally burst.

Suddenly Elliot stilled his movements to raise your dress higher to witness the wetness that flowed from your pussy like a fountain spewing water, his mouth dropping in shock whilst the lust inside his eyes grew at the arousing sight of your orgasm spewing from your cunt and splattering onto his thighs.

He was only snapped from his trance when he heard your fucked-out moan and your hand tap his shoulder.

"Truly, you are the woman of my dreams," Elliot said with an equally fucked-out voice as if he were the one who just came. "Do that again." Your eyes snapped open as you tried to quickly voice your protest but not before your words were shooed from your lips when the writer fucked up into you again, resuming his previous pace before he gently leaned you back, his hand resting on the small of your back to keep you steady whilst his other went to lift your leg higher so that he had a better view of your cunt.

The squelching noises were like a symphony to his ears.

But all he could think about was you squirting again.

The pew you both sat and fucked on was already dirty...defiled.

It didn't matter to defile it some more.

"Please, squirt on my cock again," Elliot begged. "Will this help my dear? Don't hold back, please." Without a single word of warning, the hand that held your leg up dived down to rub quick circles on your clit with his index and middle finger.

"F-Fuck! Elliot...baby, w-wait- you're going to-" Your entire body shook and convulsed from overstimulation as you struggled to keep your head and thoughts straight, moans falling from your lips shamelessly as you could hear Elliot's raspy moans and throaty groans, the sexy noises only serving to make you clench around the writer's experienced fingers.

Elliot took your pussy getting tight as a sign you were close once again, causing him to speed up both his thrusts and his fingers as they rubbed side to side without abandon on your clit. You tried to cry out for him to slow down, to give you a short break but your moans fell on deaf ears as Elliot only silenced you via fucking you harder to the point your moans took the place of the words you wanted to say as he abused your cunt. "Ahhh...." You moaned in pleasure as you felt something begin to well up inside you again.

"E-Elliot- f-fuck...." You couldn't do anything else but whine and beg, his name slipping from your lips repeatedly as his fingers on your clit sped up whilst he rose you forward a little to plant kisses along your breasts.

"Don't be embarrassed my dear," He whispered against your skin. "Just cum, I got you...please." At the sounds of his begging, that earlier feeling of a coil beginning to tighten started to nearly grow unbearable inside you, your eyes barely staying open as you allowed your body to take all the pleasure your eager lover was bestowing onto you.

"Oh, Yoba...fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-" Your body once again grew rigid as Elliot's eyes darted to where the two of you were connected, his eyes widening as your pussy clenched onto him tighter than before as a clear liquid squirted out from you and around his dick. Upon seeing that sight, he wasn't too far behind from his climax, managing a few more hard thrusts before his head dropped forward a little as he moaned.

The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath until it was you who broke the silence as you steadily rose your head and slid your hands to rest on Elliot's shoulders with a soft moan and a dopey smile. "You know..." Your voice was hoarse as your hand moved to catch Elliot's chin under your hand before you tilted his head back to make you look at him.

You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, a sweet lovesick moan leaving the writer's lips before a smile slowly came onto his lips. "We should do this again."

"How..." Elliot took a moment to further catch his breath. "How long will you be in town?"

"Couple of months, we can discuss about this being a regular thing as well as...you possibly taking me out on a date next?"

He couldn't think of anything better.

Sebastion - "Hungry Recluse" Genesis 2:18 - Then the Lord God said, “It is not good that the man should be alone; I will make him a helper fit for him.”

♡ - He had heard about a nun coming to the valley when his mother brought it up at dinner a few weekends ago. And back then? He didn't have a mind to care really.

He was a recluse.

He had nothing against religion but he preferred to stay away from crowds. If a nun was to come to the valley then he was more than certain you would bring a crowd, preaching about Yoba and the likes and he respectfully wanted no part of that.

So, imagine his shock one night when he was outside his home smoking. Only to spot a nun doing the same.

"A nun, smoking?" He nearly choked on his own cigarette. His words catching your attention before you cursed under your breath before you dropped your cigarette and quickly stomped on it with the heel of your shoe.

"Goddamn it..."

He scoffed. "And you curse too?"

You rolled your eyes. "If you're going to snitch to someone, do it now." As Sebastion stared, thinking about how much he wasn't going to snitch to anyone (after all, he believed it wasn't his place nor did he feel like anyone would believe him should he have wanted to do it). He couldn't help but think about how...well, how pretty you looked.

You sported a more roguish look to your uniform compared to what he was originally thinking you'd look like. Clean outfit with a bright smile, maybe a hand carrying a bible or the cross of Yoba perhaps. Instead? One side of your dress was bunched up, exposing quite a considerable amount of thigh as well as the black stocking you wore underneath, and the similarly colored boots that would've typically been hidden underneath.

Your make-up was gothic and you had a septum piercing along with a couple more piercings on the outer edge of your right ear.

And if he was seeing things right...was that black nail polish on your fingers- "Are you going to keep staring?" You said bitingly.

"Sorry," He apologized, quickly looking somewhere else. "I just didn't expect the nun to be-"

"A sinner?" You interrupted with a heavy sigh.

"Different." He finished his sentence.

You clicked your tongue. "Yeah well...that's what you get when you're an unwilling member of the church." You spilled.

Now he was really curious about you. This entire time, he had expected a goody two-shoes sister who would rave on and on about Yoba anytime that they could! Or maybe even some old hag as old as Evelyn was, nagging and constantly haggling people about converting and praying more to Yoba.

But instead? The town received neither.

Only you.

And he was absolutely enthralled by you.

So much so that he found himself unconsciously walking up to you before he cleared his throat. "Do...you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not looking for pity if that's what you're-"

"I'm not trying to pity you." He interrupted. "You just seem to be in need of a confessional as much as anyone else." He shrugged, his words sparking a chuckle that sounded like a melody in his ears.

. . .

And that was the beginning of you and Sebastion's relationship.

One where you two would meet under the guise of night every other day after you had finished your "performance" during the day of playing the innocent nun who wanted to spread the word of Yoba. Something that Sebastion quickly learned was nothing but complete bullshit. The two of you would rant about your lives and how much you two wished you could change things.

Whether it was from Sebastion's dreams of moving away from Pelican Town and into the city, to you ironically praying to Yoba that he'd give you an outing from the church.

The one day you'd be free.

"...Why are you stuck in the church?" Sebastion had asked one day, lighting your cigarette before his own.

You blew a puff of smoke before sighing. "Mommy and daddy had unresolved debts and issues." You said. "To pay 'em off, they got rid of me." You continued.

"Now I wear this damn get-up and play "Good follower of Yoba"." You mumbled a few curses under your breath afterward, ones that made Sebastion snicker under his breath as he considered your situation. Although obviously different, the similarities in your stories were eerily similar. The two of you longed for another life, felt as if you didn't belong in the current one you both lived, and, as much as you both could, you tried to actively change that.

But...where Sebastion could easily pack some things, get on his bike, and head for the city.

You didn't have that luxury.

"Why don't you move here?"

"Unresolved debts remember?"

"I know but...there's a lot of abandoned places here in the valley. We even have an abandoned farm not too far from here. You could live there."

"My cage would be no different then, just a new window to look out of."

A small smile crept onto your features when you spotted an apologetic frown appear on Sebastion's face. One that made you flush a little as his cheeks appeared puffier and cuter. You appreciated being able to talk to him, more than you'd ever be able to convey but...you weren't looking for sympathy or solutions to escaping that only involved you living a life on the run and in hiding.

In truth? Being asked by the higher-ups to visit this small town, meeting Sebastion?

It was as close to a blessing from Yoba as you'd ever get.

Back home, you were a glorified maid if not eye candy for old men. You'd clean for them, cook for them, bring them drinks...it was such a dull life. You hadn't even been able to go to college. You couldn't even do most math but you could damn well recite random passages from the book of Yoba.

You hadn't nor would ever be able to find love!

All talks of boys and falling in love were strictly forbidden, seen as nothing more than a gateway for potential sinning, something you'd eventually learn was nothing but complete hogwash as there were plenty of times you've seen your fellow sisters open their legs for priests when it pertained to the topic of being able to get away with some things. Here in the valley though? You didn't feel that pressure.

You liked it here.

You liked...well, you liked the people. They were nice.

"You should be happy here Sebastion." You said, breaking the silence.

"You have a good life here, it may not be the one you want it's the one that's the best path for you at the moment."

Sebastion rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say, you don't live here."

"Maybe, but I'd need a million more fingers in order to count how many situations are worse than this." You sighed. "After all...you never know, one day you may find yourself liking it here. Life is funny like that." At those words, you placed a gentle hand ontop of Sebastion's for only a brief moment before you got up and walked away.

An act that only served to leave Sebastion's heart skipping beats and...strangely upset.

. . .

And he must've sat outside for an extra thirty minutes before he finally went inside.

Dinner tasted bland, and all of a sudden Demetrius' snide remarks and insults didn't even make him turn nor lift his head to briefly glare! All Sebastion could think about was you.

You, you, you, you, you.

He didn't know what sounded weirder or more pathetic.

Him chasing after you like he was in some chick-flick, exclaiming how he wanted to be with you despite only knowing you for going on close to a week now. Or if he said that you were the only person in this entire town who seemed to understand him! The only one who made him truly happy aside from the small yet rare-found joys in his life! He could introduce you to his friends, Sam and Abigail, he thought you'd get alone well with them.

Maybe you could teach Sam to play new songs? He remembered you mentioning how you knew how to play the guitar a little. Or maybe you could simply be another girl added to the group, someone for Abigail to hang out and talk with.

As Sebastion sat on his bed. His mind further diving into his racing thoughts that concerned you, so many situations revolving around the question of 'What if?' that he could barely keep track of them all! He wondered then about what if you'd be another addition to the farming community here. If you would actually take over that abandoned farm.

What would you grow, would you be good at it or would you only prefer animals like Marnie?

Or...maybe you'd be something else?

A writer like that one guy who lived at the beach with Willy.

Or maybe an inspiring somebody like himself or Sam?

Another member to the Adventurer's Guild perhaps?

He considered it all but the one scenario that made his heart strangely ache the most was...if you were with him.

You made him smile the most out of everyone here. Sebastion enjoyed your curt personality that blended well with your shockingly soft tendencies. You were pretty and when your lips weren't covered in dark lipstick, they shined a surprisingly glistening red. Your eyes were the most gorgeous underneath the moonlight ad your figure (if he couldn't guess from the first moment he met you) was something that made his jaw drop every single time.

Suddenly, there was a throb in his pants at the thought of what you'd look like underneath your clothes.

But no, even if you stated you didn't want to be a nun.

He'd give you the respect all the same. He wouldn't dare to do anything inappropriate with your face in mind. It wouldn't be right.

. . .

But oh...did he think it would feel so right.

It wasn't a bad thing to touch himself to the thought of you, was it? You weren't there and so long as you didn't know then technically sin would have ever been committed! At least, that's what he comforted himself with as he furiously jerked himself off underneath his covers, breathless moans leaving his lips as he imagined it was your hand stroking him off rather than his own.

And as he did so, he swore he was more turned on than he ever had been in his entire life.

He imagined you were wearing your dark lipstick as your hand went down to massage his balls, your lipstick leaving smudge trails up and down his cock as you flattened your tongue to trail along the prominent vein that ran on the underside of his cock. Yet as you did so, you kept a firm eye on him as you looked at him through your lashes.

"You must've been so pent up Sebby..." His cock twitched at the nickname. "Waiting for me to do this to you, you must've been thinking about this since the day we've met. Huh?" A whine left escaped him at your words, his vision beginning to blur from both pleasure and growing embarrassment as his cock began to leak more and more pre.

"Not going to answer~?" You purred. "That's okay, you seem to be way more talkative down here than with that mouth of yours."

"P-Please..." He whispered.

Your smirk grew as your hand quickened in its pace, your face leaning in closer to his to the point he could almost imagine your breath gently blowing on his face. "Please fuck me..." He moaned. "R-Ride my cock, j-just do something more with me."

"Such a good boy~"

As you sat up, you licked the tips of your fingers clean from his pre as straddled him to where your pussy hovered over his cock. He twitched at the feeling of your heat, his eyes glued on your dripping pussy before your finger tipped his head to look back up at you. "Keep your eyes on me." You ordered before swiftly pressing a kiss to his lips. A choked-up moan escaped Sebastion's lips when you suddenly sunk yourself onto him. Your hips immediately started a fast pace that made his eyes roll into the back of his head.

Until you suddenly slowed down. "W-Wha...?" He said dizzily, looking back at you. "Why-"

"Eyes on me Sebby~ or what? Is my pussy too good for you to listen to me?" You suddenly slammed your hips down, Sebastion's hand gripping the bedsheets with a loud moan before you resumed your original pace. "You should be following what I say more diligently than this Sebastion" You pouted. "A holy nun is giving you her untouched pussy, the least you could do is look at her~"

"Y-Yes!" He moaned. Tears flowed down the sides of Sebastion's face as he kept his eyes on you, the sounds of his balls slapping against your cunt echoing throughout the room as a familiar knot steadily started to appear in the pit of his stomach. His cock twitching inside your warm pussy as the feeling of your walls nearly drove him to insanity.

Your moans, your face contorting in pleasure as your hands roamed up and down his chest underneath his hoodie. Everything about you made him want to exclaim just how much he had developed a crush on you, something that he wanted to take farther rather than just simply have sex with you. Yet, as the heat in his belly turned white-hot, his moans sounded closer to wails as he begged to cum.

He had to remind himself that this wasn't real.

You weren't even here.

Something that was slapped into him the second he felt his cum pool over the top of the hole he made with his hand rather than feeling it fill you up.

"Y/N..." He moaned as if you'd magically appear before him.

Tomorrow, he would definitely confess his feelings. Religion be damned, he knew that he wanted something with you.

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