#i will dig into it later maybe but just. they care so much and so freely. even though they've both been burnt before
Text
Welcome to Miami
Lando Norris x Messi!Reader
Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months
Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy
Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with
You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.
Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.
The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.
Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.
Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.
You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.
As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.
You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.
When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.
“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.
You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”
He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”
Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.
But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.
When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.
Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.
The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.
“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.
How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?
A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.
Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.
God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?
You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.
Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.
No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.
You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.
But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?
***
You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.
How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.
The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.
You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”
Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.
His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.
You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”
To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.
“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”
You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”
A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”
Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.
It all fits.
“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.
Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”
There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.
“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.
But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”
You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.
“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.
Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”
After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.
You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”
Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”
You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.
“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.
Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.
“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.
You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.
No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.
***
Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?
He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”
“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.
“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.
“This is Lionel Messi.”
Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.
“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.
Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”
Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.
There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.
Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.
He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...
Oh shit.
“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.
“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”
Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!
“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.
Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”
The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”
“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”
“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”
There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.
“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”
“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”
“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”
The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.
Leo Messi’s daughter.
Pregnant.
With his baby.
Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?
His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.
Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?
Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.
The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.
When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.
***
The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.
He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?
A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.
Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”
The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.
The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.
Get it together, man. This is it.
All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.
Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.
Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.
“I don’t like you.”
The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.
“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.
Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.
The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.
You.
Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.
He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.
Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”
“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.
An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.
“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”
The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.
“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”
He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.
His kid.
You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”
The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.
“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”
The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.
Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.
“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”
With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.
You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”
Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”
“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.
An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.
Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”
Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”
Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”
Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.
“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”
You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.
“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”
Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.
“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.
Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.
You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.
“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”
“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”
Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.
“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”
You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”
“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.
Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.
***
Ten Months Later
The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.
“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”
Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”
“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”
“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”
Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.
“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”
“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.
You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”
Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.
“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”
“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”
Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”
Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.
“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”
You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.
“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”
“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”
“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”
Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.
“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.
You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.
“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”
“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”
The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.
“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”
The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.
“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”
“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”
The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.
“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.
Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”
Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”
With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.
“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.
Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.
“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.
Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.
“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”
That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”
You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”
With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.
“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”
“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.
You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.
The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.
“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.
Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”
You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”
The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”
With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.
Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.
“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”
You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”
Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.
As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.
So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lando norris#ln4#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#miami gp 2024#f1 x female reader#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x y/n#mclaren#lando norris one shot
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
So! I've gotten a host of messages and asks regarding recent disk horse and I wanted to address them as a collective. I know I have anon asks off, I won't share your URLs, but I do want to thank you for asking and clarifying some of the frankly vile things people have been saying about me, my girlfriend, and friends. I value those of you who offered your words of support, and didn't jump to believe screenshots taken out of context and lies written with the utmost confidence and none of the facts. I am a little tired of having my morals questioned and my views conflated with every single person I associate with, but there it goes.
Some questions and answers under the cut. Feel free to continue asking and I'll do my best to answer.
tumblr user cpericardium suspiciously silent on the subject of Gaza: does this mean you support ethnic cleansing???
My reticence when it comes to posting about topics like I/P is because:
-This is a fandom blog intended for lighter topics, except maybe the occasional vent about life stuff, which I usually hide under a cut. I don't have sideblogs. They seem tough to maintain and I don't post nearly enough to justify it. If I were to make one it would be for another fandom or maybe just the freakier bugs. I simply prefer my social media experience to be stress-free.
-Anti-slacktivism. It's a documented thing: posting about an issue makes you feel like you're doing something, you get that little shot of dopamine, so you don't actually go out and do something that effects meaningful change. I'm trying to do less of that. I'm good with the friends and people I follow who choose to post about it and this is a strictly personal belief, but when I engage in activism, it is offline or it is a donation. You're not going to hear about it.
But don't you reblog lgbt and women's rights posts?
Yeah, and that's usually when I want to save a post for one reason or another (e.g. to talk about with someone on discord later). The bottom line is that the main purpose of my blog is not to post political takes or to spread awareness of anything. It is just a collection of my interests (fan stuff, bugs) and hopefully a way to share those interests with like-minded people.
No.
I will state my views clearly for the record: I support Palestine. The ongoing genocide is heartbreaking and so is the violence against protestors. Additionally, I am against antisemitism and the harassment of Jewish people in the name of supporting Palestine. This shouldn't even need to be said.
Is your girlfriend a Zionist?
Does she support Zionists?
No.
Wasn't she in the military?
Yes, years ago.
But the military is evil?
It is. She's extremely hardcore anti-war, does not believe the US should even have an army, and actively PMs strangers on reddit to try to convince them to not make the same mistake. If they're dead set anyway, she gives them detailed advice on how to survive. Because she actually cares about the human cost of war, not the social clout gained from shunning or sneering at people who make wrongheaded choices. I have seen her doing this, seen her seeking to understand their reasons for joining so she can systematically explain—from personal experience!—why they're not going to get any of that out of the army. It is a hell of a lot more effective than bitching them out or writing callout posts or starting whisper campaigns about them. She cannot delete those years of her life no matter how much she regrets them. There is only forward. I think we can all agree on that.
But what about all those things she said. "I regret nothing, I have no qualms, VA nipple money etc."
Well you have to understand that while of generally upright character, she is a bit of a scamp. She believes she fundamentally should not have to explain herself to randos who do not know her, who have never, not once, interacted with her, who are clearly digging for dirt and will twist anything she says no matter how banal. People see what they want to see and they look for evidence to reinforce their preconceptions; they'll go so far as to make alts to join servers, cherry-pick screencaps, crop them, and conveniently fill in the rest of the narrative for curious onlookers. So she decided to exaggerate and amplify and twirl her mustache like a supervillain. Give them a show, as it were.
To be clear, I'm not sold on this strat because it makes her look cartoonishly evil to people who can't understand sarcasm and hyperbole. But her friends and I are aware of her actual beliefs and also that she did not in fact do those things people imagine she did. And isn't that what matters? Real-life harm? Do you even care?
Re: screenshots
She addresses them here.
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
— pairing: shane walsh x fem!reader
— type: ficlet
— summary: you & shane (mostly you) try to talk hershel into letting you take care of the walkers in the barn
— tags: talking
— tw: discussions of loss of loved ones
— word count: 1,009
— a/n: find my other posts concerning shane, which take place before & after this, here
It'd taken a good bit of convincing on your part to talk Shane down from going full-steam-ahead and using the walkers in Hershel's barn for target practice.
Numerous soft words, touches, looks, and kisses later—and right in his lap, at that—he'd finally calmed enough to let you go inside and try and talk to Hershel yourself, instead of risking Shane, once again, acting first and thinking later, if at all.
At present, you and Hershel are seated at his dining room table, Shane leaning back against the wall, eyes intently upon you.
You lay your arms upon the tabletop, hands clasped in front of you. You do your utmost to maintain a calm, sympathetic demeanor, in every manor, as you talk with him. Shane had already done enough damage. So much so that when you'd initially come to Hershel to talk, Shane right on your heels, he'd initially told the both of you to get out.
He'd only acquiesced due to you and your genteel femininity.
"How do you know? How can you look at me and tell me you don't believe there's a chance? For a cure? Something? Rick insisted the same thing, and my answer is the same now as it was then: we've been fighting plague after plague since the world began. And we've always survived, just as we will now. Just as...as they might." Hershel asks, voice full of doubt.
"You've been sheltered here. I can appreciate that. But you've still seen them. Their skin is rotting from their bones. Entire limbs...missing. Their organs have decayed. There's...there's no coming back from what they've become. And I hate to say it, because it's still so awful to even try and accept, to even grasp, but they're walking corpses. Who they once were? Your neighbors and friends, your family—people you loved and cared for? They passed away a long, long time ago.
“I think that, even if by some miracle, a cure or vaccine—treatment—one day becomes available…it won’t apply to them. They’re too far gone for any amount of saving. And I’m so sorry to say that. Truly.”
He’s quiet for a long while, staring at the window across the room, his breathing steady. You know he’s thinking; considering.
He doesn’t look at you when he replies. “You’ve lost people you love. By your age, I assume your parents?”
He glances to you then and you nod.
“Would you see things this way if they were in there?”
“I would.” And you mean it.
Shane sighs. “Man, let me tell you somethin’-”
You turn abruptly toward him. “Shane, stop.” You say it firmly.
He shuts his mouth.
Hershel then looks at him. “If you speak again, this meeting is over. You’re not the one I agreed to listen to. I let you in my house as a courtesy. Same with my farm, which you and your people were supposed to have been gone from some time ago after Carl recovered. But I’ve allowed you to stay longer out of good Christian charity, which runs lowers with every word you speak. Don’t you forget that.”
Shane shakes his head, looking away, thumbs threaded behind his belt.
Finally, Hershel looks back to you. “How would you do it?”
“I’d really prefer—if you do agree to this—that you and your family not be here when we…put them down,” you say it as kindly—as softly—as you can manage. “I don’t want all of you bearing witness to it—in any form. I don’t want to risk any of you seeing it, or even hearing the gunshots.
“I know it’s dangerous: asking all of you to leave. But it would be, at most, for perhaps an hour. We can get started on digging the graves now…if you have an estimate of how many may need created? And then, when it’s time, a couple of our people can go with you, maybe to the training area we set up, since it’s already cleared out.
“And when you come back, and they’ve been laid in their graves, you tell us their names—what you want put on their markers—and we’ll help you do that, too. You’ll finally have a place where you all can go to see them. To talk to them. To mourn them and grieve. They can finally be put to rest.”
You reach across the table, resting your palm atop his clasped hands.
Hershel stares at the table and he’s quiet again for a long time. Then, “I need time to consider this. This isn’t a decision I can make on my own. They’re not just my family and friends.”
You nod, bringing your hand back. “I understand that. Take all the time you need.”
“And if I tell you, once I’ve decided, that my decision is no? If I tell you all to get off my land once and for all?”
You glance to Shane and you see his jaw feather and then he shakes his head.
You look back to Hershel. “Then we would leave. But you need to understand that…if you leave them in there…it may only be a matter of time. A matter of time before they get through the doors. Or break through the sides of the barn. And if—when—that happens… We won’t be here to help you if they begin to overrun the house, or your farm. So, I guess it’s a good thing Patricia, Jimmy, and Beth went through training.”
He stands then, as do you. “I’ll consider this.”
You smile. “Thank you for being willing to. For taking the time to listen to me.”
You all three head toward the front door, until Hershel stops Shane with a hand to his chest, which he then drops. “She’s an extraordinary young woman. You could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve her. Perhaps you should take that into consideration,” he nods his head toward you. “For her sake, when you think about what’s truly best for her.”
Shane doesn’t deign to give him a reply. He simply takes your hand firmly in his, leading you outside.
#fic: twd (shane walsh x reader)#shane walsh x y/n#shane walsh x reader#shane walsh imagine#twd x reader#twd x y/n#twd x you
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
Five things Porsche learns about Kim lets gooooo
This actually started as a prompt from @shubaka forever ago (before we were friends 🥺) and I decided to torture myself by turning it into a 5+1 fic! But then I stalled out bc I didn't know what to add for the other parts klasjdhgf. It's actually still floating somewhere around here in my writing tag!
In it, Porsche is trying to befriend Kim, and Kim is horribly resistant to it. Porsche steals Chay's phone since Kim won't answer him, only for Kim to hang up as soon as he speaks, it's a whole thing. Basically Kim being forced to bond with his future brother in law <3
The first thing Porsche learns about Kim is that he's a squirrely little bastard. He weasels his phone number out of Chay - after finding out that Kinn didn't have it saved in his own phone, which will be a conversation for later - but Kim doesn't any answer any of the flurry of phone calls and texts that Porsche hurls his own way. Apparently, according to Porchay, Kim has memorized all the numbers of everyone important enough to be worth his time, and doesn't bother with anyone else.
What if someone has to borrow a phone? Porsche had asked.
Sucks to be them, Chay replied, with a silly smile that might mean he's kidding, or it might mean he knows exactly how ridiculous Kim is being, but still somehow likes him anyway. Porsche would prefer the former but he's almost certain it's the latter, and he's trying to figure out exactly why Chay would like him so much.
Because as far as Porsche can tell? Kim is more akin to a feral cat than anything else. Keeps his distance, sullenly watches Porsche anytime they happen to be in the same room, looking away only to scan for the nearest exit - which he takes at the earliest opportunity - and Porsche is certain Kim has actually hissed at him once. Probably not.
Since Kim won't answer unknown numbers, Porsche is forced to stoop to his level. Kinn's phone is of course out of the question, which only leaves one other person, at least only one Porsche can easily access, guaranteed to have it.
He's holding a struggling Porchay in a headlock while the phone dials. It only rings once.
"Hello, love," Kim greets, his voice warm and syrupy and so, so fond that Porsche has to gag, just to see the way his brother flushes.
"I'm sorry, Kim!" Porchay shouts. He's still struggling, digging his hands into Porsche's sides. "I tried to stop him!"
"Porsche." And there it is, that flat tone Porsche is used to.
"Hi, Kim, how's it going?" he asks casually.
"Goodbye.
"Wait, wait, wait!" It's no use. The line is already dead. Porsche releases his brother with a groan, and doesn't fight it when Chay snatches back his phone. "Why does he have to be so difficult?"
"Kim doesn't like being cornered, hia," Chay scolds him. "If you just talked to him like a normal person-"
"He won't let me! He keeps running!"
"You're intimidating!" Porsche doesn't believe that for a second. If Kinn wasn't intimated by him, no way his feral, murderous little brother was. "Maybe you're coming on too strong? He probably think you're gonna kill him for, y'know..."
"No, I don't know." Porsche side-eyes Chay, who's no longer making eye contact. "Do I need to kill him?"
"No!"
"Should I want to?"
"Hia, No!" Chay throws his hands up. "See! This is why he won't talk to you! You're embarrassing."
"Good. Also, I don't care. I want to talk to him, and unless he wants me to lock you in your room and forbit you from seeing each other for the rest of your life, he better cooperate."
Chay lets out a sigh like the weight of all the world is bearing down on him. "I'll talk to him," he mumbles, sullen.
26 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mushy May 2024
Animals - Copia/Aurora
Ft. Dew, Swiss, Phantom and Mountain
Thank you to @forlorn-crows for organizing Mushy May for the second year in a row!
Divider by @ghuleh-recs
No major CWs - unless you’re afraid of rats
1924 words below the cut (ao3 soon)
The following is based on true events. Though it was only one of my rats that escaped and made her way into the kitchen cupboard. Although my rats are gone, I still have the carrier with the giant hole. Along with the hole in my heart now that they’re all gone. Also this is rambling and boring and sorry. I don’t have the brain power to make it better.
It was with unexpected enthusiasm that Copia had agreed to allow for two of his precious rats to be cared for by the ghouls.
Aurora assumed that when she widened her gait to catch up to Papa as he hastened through the hallways.
“I’m sorry dear, I don’t have much time to confab with you today. The big release and all.”
Aurora swallowed hard, trying to steel her nerves to both ask the question. And to imagine what it’ll be like seeing herself up on a giant screen. She loved to perform, but she wasn’t so sure she liked to watch herself perform.
He was already getting away as she became trapped in that anxious thought for just a few seconds. Running to catch up with him, and maybe a little out of breath, she thought now or never.
“Papa I was just thinking, and only if you think it’s a good idea, and I promise I’ll take such good care of them, and only if you think they would be okay with it, and - and -“
Copia finally slowed down and came to a stop, resting his hands on her shoulders, to reassure her and to maybe get her to slow down so he could make sense of what she was saying.
“Aurora, I’m sure whatever you’re going to ask does not require this much preemptive reassurance. What is it?”
“Well,” she digs her toe into the stone floor and looks up at him, the way her eyes truly sparkle, she must be doing that on purpose.
“I was thinking that while we’re on break, you might consider letting me take care of one of your rats.”
“Oh, dear, you had me so very worried for a moment. I thought you were going to ask me for something truly insane. Like when Delta asked my brother if they could add Egyptian crocodiles to the lake. As much as I’m sure he’d enjoy communing with them, I think we all want to enjoy a summer dip with our limbs intact.”
“So?” Her voice carried the upward inflection of hope, and Copia met her with a crinkly eyed smile.
“Yes, of course.”
She wanted to jump up and down and shake him by his robes but she settled for a light hug.
“I promise I won’t let you down! I’ve been reading all about their care for weeks! I’ll make sure they have a safe exercise area, and plenty of enrichment in their cage, and I’ll make them a healthy snack every single day!”
“I believe you, just coordinate with that sibling who helps me with uh - you know.”
“Your administrative assistant, David, who’s been your assistant for the last 6 years?”
“Ah yes! Tricky, that name. David.”
Aurora just shook her head, “Will do! Thanks Papa!”
Impatient as ever, Aurora charged straight over to Copia’s quarters to gather supplies.
“Yes, he told me you were coming.” His flat affect had nothing to do with his mood, she was told. She assumed that is what happens when you put up with the chaos of a silly satanic pope for 6 years straight.
Aurora gathered the supplies first, David thoughtfully offered her a wagon to drag most of it back, at least the massive cage was on wheels.
She returned a few hours later, after masterfully setting up the cage with hammocks and tunnels and hides, litter boxes, food bowls and water.
She stood back to admire her work as Phantom walked past. “I’m kinda jealous, Rory.”
“You can spend time with the rats too?”
“Nah I mean the cage. I wish I could live in there. Looks so cozy.”
She gave him a playful shove and went to collect the final and most important thing, the rats.
She peered inside the plastic carrier and found two sisters sleeping around each other like a yin yang, one dark grey and the other white with brown spots.
“They are sisters, Madonna and Magdalene.” David need not bother to tell her to take good care of them, she had already assured him that she would about 800 times in between trips back to the ghoul wing.”
She walked slowly, trying not to jostle them while they slept. Beyond ecstatic that she had not one but two to care for.
“They don’t like to live alone. Pack creatures. Like you ghouls.” Aurora quirked her eyebrow at that. Normally the siblings who could be trusted to know still didn’t say it out loud. But then again. David was a strange one.
She then sat patiently on the sofa waiting for them to wake up so she could introduce them to their new home. She made sure to put some of the items in from their last cage so it would smell familiar. Including a half-shredded tissue box that they apparently were quite fond of.
She was beginning to doze off herself when she heard some movement in the carrier on her lap.
She held it up at eye level just in time to see Magdalene, the white and brown rat, stretch out her little front legs and yawn.
“So freaking cute.” She mumbled at her new friends. “I’m going to call you Maggie and Mads for short!”
She carried them over to their new home and unlatched the door to both the cage and the carrier and let them wander in at their own pace.
She decided that she would leave them be for the night to get used to their new surroundings. She found them asleep in their fleece hammock when she brought them their evening snack, snap peas and cucumber and a small piece of banana.
She couldn’t help herself, arranging it on a tiny saucer like dinner at a 5 star restaurant.
“I don’t think that’s going fill you up.”
She spun around and smacked into Swiss, who was looking over her shoulder.
“It’s not for me!”
“I know, doll, just kidding.”
The next day, she decided to check if they were interested in meeting her. Wearing one of Mountain’s stolen hoodies, she held her arm inside the cage. They both sniffed her curiously.
“It’s okay.” She whispered. “We have all the time in the world to become friends.”
But to her surprise, they both climbed up onto her arm and onto her shoulder. Soon she was in a fit of giggles as they tangled themselves up in her hair, and tickled her skin with their whiskers.
It was safe to say from then on, that if Aurora was awake precluding certain activities, she would likely have a pair of rats traveling in the hood of her sweater, up her sleeve, or in the front pouch of her overalls.
It finally came time to clean their cage, so she deposited them back into the plastic carrier they arrived in. She began the tedious process of removing all of the soft fabric items to wash, so she could wipe down the hard surfaces with the enzyme cleaner - which was nowhere to be found.
“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere”! They pressed their little noses up to the metal grid of the door as if to say how could we?
She returned some 20 minutes later after being redirected to several different locations until it ended with a supply closet on the opposite side of the grounds.
A logical place she supposed as it was near the exit to the very micro farm that Ivy had insisted upon. She imagined he was out there now, communing with his chickens or milking a goat.
She finally finished scrubbing down the cage and placing all of the toys and hides back inside after what seemed like hours. “Actually broke a sweat doing that. What do you say ladies? Incoerce one of the boys into doing this for me next time?”
She lifted the carrier to release them, but when the pair didn’t come scurrying out she flipped the carrier around to look inside. That's when she noticed the giant hole chewed into the side of the carrier.
“Oh - oh fuck.”
Aurora began looking inside the cage, around the cage, the book shelf, media stand, sofa, and every other nook and crevice in the common room.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
The Abbey was massive, the walls had cracks in them, there were doors they could easily slip under, staircases to hop down. They could be anywhere. It only took a few seconds for panic to dig its claws in and not let go.
And this is how Dew found her, sitting in the middle of the common room floor, couch cushions in disarray, the coffee table emptied, drawers open, pillows tossed everywhere.
“Rory?”
“He’s gonna kill me, Dew!”
“No one is killing anyone. What happened?”
Aurora recounted the events leading up to this moment in rapid fire succession, but Dew understood the most important part. Maggie and Mads were missing.
Dew’s mind was reeling in a similar fashion, the Abbey’s endless rooms, sprawling passageways. Parts deep beneath the ground he’d never been brave enough to venture to.
However, rather than upset Aurora further - if possible - as she was already sobbing on his shoulder - he decided to try and be the calm presence she needed.
“Don’t worry Rory, we’ll find ‘em. You know how smart they are. They’ll probably come right back to their home when they’re ready.”
Aurora garbled something into his shoulder he couldn’t make out, but he was pretty sure she was disagreeing with him.
When Dew finally dislodged the panicked ghoul from around his neck he decided to make use of the group chat that he normally had muted.
Soon enough the rest of them emerged to help look for the missing rodents.
Trouble is they weren’t really sure where they could look that Aurora had not already.
After many hours of searching, and coming up empty handed, they moved back to the common room and sat in collective silence.
Rather than make empty promises, Mountain offered to make Aurora’s favorite cookies. A small concession, but he needed to do something. The anxiety of not being able to fix the problem was beginning to drive him mad.
Aurora nodded weakly, imagining with horror the look of disappointment, or quite possibly anger Copia would have when she told him.
The room was silent save the sound of cupboards opening and ingredients being laid out on the counter.
Suddenly Mountain yelped, causing each last one of them to jump out of their seats.
They all gathered in the doorway, they were already on edge and him sounding the alarm bells did nothing to soothe their collective frayed nerves.
“Mount, what is it?”
Standing there with the pantry door open, a bag of oats in his hands.
“I found your friends Aurora.”
He handed her the bag, two sets of beady eyes peered back up at her as they stuffed their faces with rolled out flakes.
“You little fuckers! I can’t even be mad, cause you’re so cute!” Aurora carried the bag back to their cage and deposited them along with a small pile of oats.
“Shouldn’t be getting treats, you were bad ratties!” Aurora wagged her finger at them but they paid no mind, digging into the pile of flakes.
Mountain looked between the rats in the cage enjoying their spoils, and the big bag of oats with a hole chewed in the side.
“Well, I can’t make your favorite anymore. Would you settle for regular chocolate chip cookies? Minus the oats?”
“Deal.” The usual cheer returned to Aurora’s voice. “I’ll help.”
#I don’t even wanna post this#but I wrote it so here it is#anyways I did have a breakdown when I couldn’t find Bianca#she just looked at me like wut?? when I opened the cupboard#I miss them#mushy may 2024#moth’s mushy may#cardinal copia#aurora ghoulette#the band ghost fanfiction#midnight moth writes
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
The fact that there is currently not a single Vicky/Mark ship story on either FFN or AO3 when they are a canon couple for multiple seasons (and Mark had a crush on her for at least 9 seasons) is a CRIME, actually :/
#Mark Chang#Fairly OddParents#FOP#FAIRIES!#The only thing worse than a rarepair is a canon rarepair because I sit here feeling robbed and betrayed /lh#Staring at their arc in the 130 rn like... Maybe... maybe we should bump that up sooner rather than later#Listen. I have drafts of Tootie helping Mark pick flowers for Vicky. I have drafts of Mark and Vicky shopping together.#I have drafts of Mark talking to Vicky's parents. I have drafts of Mark looking after Doidle. Drafts of M and V in school.#Drafts of Mark and Vicky tag-team babysitting Timmy and Mark inner turmoiling over how she treats him#Drafts of Vicky wanting to go on a road trip but she has to deal with Mark and F.L.A.R.G.#Drafts of Mark being super fluid with his identity and she just has to deal with him turning into a kid digging for worms#Drafts of them trying to navigate their relationship when showing affection causes him pain#Can you even IMAGINE her trying to find his house and she just walks him home and drops him off at... the city dump#??? There is so much you can do with them why are they not amazing to anyone else they are the best ???#Canonically she took him back after finding out he was an alien and I cry... she cares for him so much... My heart#130 Prompts#ridwriting#Red babysitter
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
mannn i forgot how much kutaro & reko meant to me
#i will dig into it later maybe but just. they care so much and so freely. even though they've both been burnt before#reko moreso considering the industry#but nonetheless it's just. real sweet having them get along after the alice reveal (yts iteration) and having them talk a bit abt family#the ideas of how they have the pressure from parents but then the comfort found in friends... explodes#so many people who love you... do you even realize#jestersvaguely#yttdposting#there is more to it but i need something lighthearted rn or else i will. die
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Call my bluff, call you ‘babe’
♡ Pairing: Lee Minho × fem!reader
♡ Genre: Childhood friends to lovers, fluff
♡ CW: Implied smut, alcohol consumption. Twenty solid seconds of angst, but it doesn’t even really count. It’s just tooth-rotting fluff.
♡ Word count: 5.5k
♡ Synopsis: Minho has been your best friend since you two could barely form coherent sentences. He was there when your last baby tooth fell, he was there when you failed your high school exams, and he was there as you walked down the aisle.
♡ A/N: This was going to be just word-vomit fluff to make me cry, but I couldn’t control myself and before I knew it there were… so many words.
You were four years old when you met Minho. It was the first day of kindergarten, and you were assigned seats together. The entire day was spent with you chatting to every kid you could reach from your seat while Minho quietly sat painting and doodling by your side. You vaguely remember thinking he was odd and whining to your mom about how your seatmate was boring, and that was why he was the only kid in class you didn’t talk to. She smiled and told you maybe you should make an effort to talk to him. That same day, you racked your little brain for a reason why your seatmate might be so quiet and promptly decided that he was too shy to start a conversation himself. You then asked your mom if the fact that you didn’t talk to him might have made him sad, to which she hesitated, and that was enough to have your bottom lip wobbling.
You remember tears streaming down your cheeks as you frantically sobbed, inconsolable at the fact that your seatmate was sad and that it was partially because of you.
The next day, you asked if Minho would like to use your special glitter pens — you even told him you wouldn’t mind if he used your favorite colors. That was really all that was needed to plant the bud of friendship between you two.
Ever since that day, you two slowly became inseparable.
You attended the same elementary school after begging your parents, writing a very concise list of reasons why you two could not possibly be separated. Reasons such as the fact that Minho still didn’t know how to tie his shoelaces, so it would be dangerous for him to be alone in a new school. Or the fact that you were always losing your gloves, and Minho always carried an extra pair in his backpack just for you, so you would surely catch a cold if you didn’t have him beside you during winter.
All extremely valid reasons.
Minho began walking you home from school when you were both nine years old. He was often left alone due to his parents’ work schedules, which made him become the most street-smart kid in your class. You had to beg your mom for a week, but she ultimately caved in.
Your favorite thing to do on your way home was to stop randomly and doodle on the sidewalk with chalk, with Minho joining you in no time. You even had your favorite little sketching spot — right in front of a nice old lady’s flower shop, where you two would spend far too much time decorating her entrance pavement with flowers, rainbows, and smiley faces. She would later introduce herself to you, Ms. Kim, and would always thank you both with a flower of your choice. You always picked tulips, and Minho always picked daisies.
On one hazy winter day, you and Minho were eager to adorn the flower shop’s entrance with a new set of doodles since the ones you had done just yesterday got covered in snow. As you two did your best to dig through the piled-up snow with your gloved hands, you suddenly felt something hard slide down your throat. Your hands stilled, and you turned to look at Minho with wide eyes.
“What happened?” He asked. “Did you lose your glove in the snow this time?”
You shook your head frantically, careful not to swallow. “Teeth,” you simply said.
Minho looked at you like you were crazy, squinting his eyes as he studied your face. “What?”
You felt tears well up, and he immediately abandoned his mission of shuffling through the snow before pulling you into a big hug.
“Why are you crying? Don’t cry. I hate when you cry, I feel weird when you cry,” He said, but no tears left his worried eyes. Minho never cried, that was something you had learned a while back.
You, however, cried until Ms. Kim noticed you two from the window, cooing as she approached you two with a gentle smile. You tried your best to explain your predicament. Minho sat with you behind the wooden counter, holding your hand in his, the smell of flowers making everything feel less catastrophic than it did ten minutes earlier.
Ms. Kim explained that you had no reason to cry, as it was normal for kids to swallow their baby teeth. And you remember harshly shaking your head and explaining with a trembling voice that you hadn’t cried because of that. You had cried because that was your last baby tooth, which meant you were officially a grown-up. You didn’t want to be a grown-up. Minho wasn’t a grown-up yet, with his last baby tooth still holding on proudly in his gums. You didn’t want to be a grown-up all alone; it would be terrible and sad.
That afternoon, you two went home together in silence, your respective flowers clutched in your hands. Minho was never good with words. Sadness engulfed him because he couldn’t do enough to make his best friend smile again. What was the point of a best friend if they didn’t make you laugh when you were crying?
Minho walked into school the next day with a proud smile on his face before placing his last baby tooth on your desk. You eyed it curiously, brows furrowed.
“There, I took it off last night,” He simply said. “Now we’re gonna be grown-ups together.”
At eleven years old, your daily after-school video game appointments began.
You had just cut your hair short; a bob you thought looked cute on your favorite singer turned out to be cataclysmically unflattering on you. And, at eleven years old, it was earth-shattering and definitely the end of your life (despite what your mother told you).
You spent every second out in public with your hair hidden by a beanie, hoping it would distract people from your disastrous haircut.
Except it had the opposite effect.
One particular day at school, a boy came up to you simply to inform you that your head looked like a mushroom before running away, laughing with his friends. They were foolish words spoken by a foolish boy, but you were eleven. Once again, earth-shattering and the end of your life.
You avoided everyone the entire day — including Minho, whom you always talked to no matter your mood. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid him for much longer, seeing as he walked you home every day, so you simply prayed he wouldn’t notice your puffy eyes or that he at least hadn’t heard any of the other kids making unfunny jokes about your haircut.
After school, Minho sighed in feigned annoyance when you told him you had lost your gloves again before retrieving a pair from his backpack. Like a habit, you asked if he wanted to hang out at your house, although the answer was always unchanging.
“My mom’s baking a cake,” you told him. “We can play video games and then eat it together.”
Minho hummed in agreement, adjusting his backpack before grabbing your hand as you two began your daily walk to your house. It was something you always did, never walking anywhere without your hands clasped together. These past few months, however, this once ordinary gesture had begun making your heart beat faster. You didn’t understand why, and you would rather not think about it because every time you did, the words from your other friends would echo inside your head. Their stories about how they felt their hearts racing when their crush had hugged them or even looked their way, making you question if maybe…
But it couldn’t be. Minho was your best friend. How could he be your crush?
It was another one of those afternoons, your mom busily making you two sandwiches as you and Minho played New Super Mario Bros on your Wii under the blanket fort you always meticulously built. Minho had been acting weird all day — even weirder than you, who had to endure all the asinine jokes and hurtful words from your peers. As you completed the last level for the umpteenth time, saving Princess Peach, Minho all but threw his controller to the side. You turned to shoot him a questioning look, which went ignored as he rummaged through his backpack.
He retrieved a crumpled-up piece of paper, which he promptly gave to you.
You cocked your head, awaiting some sort of explanation, but Minho simply picked up his controller once more and hit play on the game.
Unfolding the paper, words greeted you in Minho’s messy handwriting.
YOUR HAIR LOOKS CUTE. STOP HIDING IT.
Your lips parted slightly, but before you could say anything to him, Minho reached out and snatched your beanie from your head. Your short hair and bangs cascaded onto your face, partially obscuring your view. But you could still make out his side profile, where a faint smile appeared on his lips.
After that, you two were silent for the rest of the day, eventually dozing off under the tent lulled by the sound of your mother’s hand mixer and Mario’s theme song. The sun eventually set outside the window, and you woke up to two plates of your mother’s cake waiting for you on the coffee table.
From that point on, your beanie was left forgotten inside your drawer.
You were fifteen when you realized that perhaps your feelings for Minho weren’t all that platonic after all.
It all started with a letter on Minho’s desk on a rainy Friday. October 25th, Minho’s birthday.
Minho’s quiet nature hadn’t changed one bit since you first sat beside him at four years old. He would rather die than start a conversation, rarely went out to the movies with your friend group and, most importantly, hated being the center of attention. That was why he told no one about his birthday since you two began high school this year. It was the subject of much debate among your little group of friends, with some bribing Minho with his favorite snacks or promising to do his assignments until college just for some sort of clue; a day, month, even the day of the week he was born.
But Minho never budged.
So, seeing a letter on his desk on the day of his birthday was odd, to say the least.
You arrived back to the classroom late after chatting to your friend from another class in the hallway, catching as Minho sat down with a puzzled look on his face and an open letter in his hands.
“What’s up?” You asked, sitting on the desk in front of him.
He looked up, thick glasses crooked from a dodgeball incident earlier that week. “Yumi found out it’s my birthday today,” He informed you, a bit too nonchalantly. “She organized a birthday party at her house tomorrow with our friends.”
You immediately took the letter, reading it and blanching at the words written in the girl’s pretty handwriting. She had found out Minho’s birthday by snooping around Facebook until she found his mother, who had a plethora of pictures of Minho on his previous birthdays. Not only that, the letter ended with a paragraph where she confessed her feelings to him — with all the clichés and dramatics only an adolescent crush could provide.
You still remember your first thoughts upon learning that information: Oh, Yumi. Of course a girl like her would do something like this.
You cringe at your words now, but at fifteen, you deemed no girl worthy of your best friend. Especially ‘girls like Yumi,’ who in your eyes all but threw herself at him. At the time, you thought you were looking out for the boy who was practically your brother. Now, you understand you were simply an insecure fifteen-year-old who allowed ugly, misogynistic thoughts to brew inside your mind out of fear of losing Minho. For your immature brain, every girl interested in Minho was an enemy because they could easily take him away from you.
And Minho had never reciprocated any girl’s feelings, always politely turning down the few confessions he had gotten during middle school. You were ready to berate Yumi, your brows immediately furrowing as your face contorted, but Minho beat you to it, speaking before you could utter a word.
“I know I should be mad, but isn’t it a little… cute?”
You couldn’t help but scoff, the sound escaping your lips like a burst of disbelief. You also couldn’t help how your hands began to tremble as your heart shot up to your throat.
“Cute?” You asked with the strongest voice you could muster. “You think her invading your privacy is cute?”
And Minho simply shrugged, tapping his fingers on his desk. “A little bit. I know you don’t really like her, but she’s part of our friend group,” He said, taking the letter from your shaky hands. “Plus, she’s always been nice to me, and she is cute.”
That was all you could physically bear to hear, excusing yourself from the conversation with the lie that your friend had called you from the classroom window before sprinting out into the hallway. As you continued walking, your palms grew clammy and your heart weighed heavily in your chest.
You felt tears well up in your eyes once you reached the stairs. Sitting on the steps, you cried into the cardigan of your ugly school uniform. You didn’t care that you would be scolded for skipping class; all you cared about was that your best friend was going to be taken from you.
After school, as you and Minho were about to exit the school gates — your hands tightly clasped together as they always were — Yumi appeared carrying a cake, the rest of your friends behind her as they all sang happy birthday.
Minho blew out the candles and made a wish. Everyone cheered as his best friend, Chan, shoved his face into the cake. Minho yelled at him, grumbling with glasses covered in white frosting, but ultimately laughing along. Yumi was quick to clean his face with a napkin, earning her a smile from Minho before he released your hand to gently squeeze her rosy cheeks.
You remained quiet, forcing out a smile and looking up at the sky every now and then so your tears wouldn’t fall.
All because Minho had let go of your hand.
Minho’s fifteenth birthday — that was the day you learned you could fool everyone else, but never yourself.
Your seventeenth summer was a drag.
Minho had just been broken up with a couple of months before, Yumi crying as she explained her parents wanted her to focus on her studies, and having a boyfriend was simply a distraction she couldn’t afford if she wanted to be a doctor someday. An unwilling participant in the entire situation, you sat awkwardly at the bus stop as she spoke.
You were ready to witness Minho cry for the first time in your life, maybe yell about how unfair her parents were being, but he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead just as your bus arrived.
Not much had changed when he began dating Yumi, with you learning that suppressing how you truly felt was worryingly easy. You still hung out with them, battling through their cuddles and kisses like a soldier on the front lines of a war. Never unscathed, but always strong. Nobody needed to know about how you cried into your mother’s arms almost every night before falling asleep.
The only change had been you and Minho’s daily gaming appointments. You two had since outgrown your video game phase, both now interested in diverging things that made it impossible for you to enjoy them together. You discovered your love for flowers went beyond doodling on the sidewalk in front of a flower shop, but Minho complained that growing flowers was too time-consuming, and he loved dancing, which you were far too uncoordinated and lazy to even try doing.
And so, you two settled for simply hanging out together at your house. Your room had easy access to the roof, which you two took full advantage of, setting up a permanent blanket fort where you would snuggle up with pillows and talk for hours after school.
That summer was no different, with Minho stretched out across the old mattress, watching the light pink sky slowly fade away as night set in while you two busied yourselves talking.
That was the day you finally gathered the courage to ask Minho about his breakup, desperate to understand why he had appeared so unfazed. After the one-year milestone of their relationship in February, you had begun to make peace with the fact that she would probably be around for a while.
Minho shrugged at your question, hands resting on his stomach while he gnawed on his bottom lip. He explained he was sure that he liked her, but it turned out he valued her as a friend much more than as a girlfriend.
You couldn’t help but scoff at the answer. You knew Minho better than you knew yourself at times, which was why you knew he was lying through his teeth.
“Why did you stay so long with her, then?” You questioned, the resentful lilt in your voice a bit too obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I mean, you surely didn’t act as just friends.”
“I guess I felt lonely before,” He explained. “I was selfish for staying with her, but I enjoyed having someone. Was especially nice after…” Minho trailed off, dismissively shaking his head, and you remember being close to throwing him off that roof as he kept being so damn enigmatic.
“After what?” You prodded, “Minho, I’m your best friend. What’s the point of us talking if you’re not gonna tell me the truth?”
He turned his head to look up at you, the darkening sky making his eyes gleam as if they held an entire galaxy of stars. You felt that familiar nervousness return.
“It was nice to not be so alone after so many years of pining after someone.”
You cocked your head to the side, and Minho had the gall to chuckle at your puzzled expression. You shook your head, mumbling to yourself that your conversation was pointless if he wouldn’t tell you the whole truth.
Lying next to him on the mattress with a sigh, you could feel the weight of Minho’s gaze on you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move.
You remember the moon was already high in the sky by the time one of you finally moved — Minho, who slowly inched his hand closer to yours before clasping it tightly in his. Despite your racing heart, you thought nothing of it. He was now single, so it wouldn’t be ludicrous to assume a habit you two had cultivated for many years would naturally return.
However, after some beats from your erratically racing heart, Minho’s fingers intertwined with yours. You had never done that before, always holding hands in a way that all but screamed platonic.
That night, with his thumb caressing your skin and his hand squeezing yours, Minho finally spoke the truth after so long.
“It’s you,” He said, tone nonchalant but voice audibly shaky. “Think I’ve been pining after you since I was nine and ripped my tooth out ‘cause I thought that’d make you stop being sad.”
You remember gasping quietly and his hand tightening around yours as the clock ticked and your silence remained. You remember finally mustering up the courage to turn to look at him and being met by an expression you had rarely seen on Minho’s face in the thirteen years you had known him — he was scared, wide eyes dancing around your face as if he looked for an answer in your features, his chapped lips parted slightly as if he was ready to backtrack the moment he saw any hint of doubt in your eyes.
You remember smiling at him and how his expression shifted into pure confusion. All it took was for him to finally have the nerve to hold your hand in the way he’d always wanted to, and for you to use his courage as a catalyst for your own. You remember how you closed the distance between you two and pressed your lips to his. You remember it feeling weird because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.
But you also remember it feeling right because you were kissing Minho, your best friend.
Your transition from being best friends to being in a relationship was easier than you had ever thought it would be — it was also slower than you could have ever imagined.
Minho never asked you out or confessed his feelings beyond what was said on the roof, and neither did you. It was a shared knowledge between you, a silent agreement that didn’t need words — at least for now. The little gestures and subtle changes left no doubt in your minds that you two were, in fact, no longer just friends — like how you began to always intertwine your fingers while holding hands, or how Minho would pull you onto his lap when you hung out with your friends, or how you would rest your head on his shoulder as he played with your hair during lunch break.
Your friends certainly had questions, the confusion written all over their faces easy to read like a book, but you both knew they also understood your relationship without you needing to make a big deal out of it.
You picked him up from dance class every weekend, sometimes arriving earlier just to catch a glimpse of him through the glass door, as Minho insisted he was too embarrassed to dance in front of you.
One day, thoroughly unprompted, he reached into his backpack as you two exited his dance academy and pulled out a yellow tulip. You had furrowed your brows at the sudden gesture, and Minho nonchalantly told you that planting your favorite flower was surprisingly easy. Since becoming teenagers, you had stopped going to Ms. Kim’s flower shop, and you had long forgotten about how you two used to have your own respective flowers back in the day.
It seemed Minho hadn’t forgotten.
That was one thing you had come to know about him only after you began dating. Although he seemed cold and distant on the outside — rarely communicating his feelings through words — Minho secretly kept a mental note of every little detail about the people he cared about, and he unfailingly found a way to communicate his feelings through actions. Such as promptly handing you a brand-new flower he had picked before you even had the chance to mourn your tulip as it began to wilt.
You, on the other hand, had always been the type of person to communicate through words; spoken, written, or read, which is how you began saving your best daisies from the small garden you created in your backyard and practicing your flower arrangement skills exclusively by making pretty bouquets you could gift to Minho (always with little notes hidden among the flowers).
Your once explicitly platonic roof dates also left no room for doubt, as making out under your usual tent became a hard-to-break habit. In fact, that was how your family found out about your relationship. You were eighteen, with graduation just around the corner, when your mother caught Minho kissing you as tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of having to be apart from him during college (although you both knew that would never be the case, as you always moved mountains simply to stay together).
Everything was slow-paced, and neither of you had any desire to rush anything. Once, Minho told you he had waited eight years to finally kiss you, and somehow, that anticipation was what had made it all the more special.
And so, your first proper date only happened six months after your first kiss, and your first fight only happened a year and a half into your relationship. Not to mention your first I love you, which had been a slip-up that happened only in your first year of college after a drunken night with Chan and Minho. Your head on his lap, your tulip nestled among his daisies in a pretty vase on the coffee table as Chan hummed along to some song that came from his phone. You felt as if your entire being was filled with pure gratitude at that moment, and the liquid courage that flowed through your veins only helped you mutter out how much you loved Minho.
He looked down at you, hands cupping your cheeks with a silly smile adorning his face, and simply answered, “Well, I love you more.”
Your carefree attitude toward your relationship was almost a contrast to the one you had with your friendship. You and Minho had met so young that you could never truly pinpoint when you had become such close friends. You always wondered if that was what led you two to be so easygoing with what most people rush into. Things happened when they were supposed to happen.
You remember one of Minho’s new friends, Changbin, asking something about your sex life at some party during freshman year, and you two nonchalantly answering that you didn’t really have one. Your friends’ shock was understandable, but you and Minho only laughed.
Things happened when they were supposed to happen.
It was Minho’s 21st birthday, when your flowers were no longer in bloom, but your love remained blossoming like it was mid-spring. He had, as always, vetoed any and every plan of a celebration suggested by your friends. He opted to stay in with you, cuddling under a blanket fort like you had been doing for so many years. Chan graciously offered to sleep at a friend’s dorm, leaving your small shared apartment just for you and Minho.
He hadn’t planned for anything to happen, and neither had you. You were simply lying together, watching the flickering of the candles you had set up around the coffee table, recounting the innumerable memories you shared when you suddenly felt the earnest, all-consuming need to have Minho as close as possible.
It was clumsy, both of you inexperienced and nervous. Your teeth crashed together and your hands gripped each other tightly, the realization of the intensity of your yearning becoming undeniable. At some point, the entire tent collapsed on top of you, and laughter filled the room for a brief moment before being replaced by your sighs and whispered moans.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was you and Minho.
Graduation day was a blur in your mind.
It had all started with Minho and Chan drunk at eleven a.m., offering you the awful-tasting omelet they had cooked in your cramped kitchen. They then went on to zone out for most of the ceremony after stumbling out of your apartment.
You approached Minho after he was done taking pictures and getting scolded by his family for being drunk on his graduation day, his mother giving you an apologetic look as you whisked him away.
“You’re stressed,” you pointed out.
“Yeah.”
“Me too,” you replied with a sigh, resting against a large tree far enough away from the hustle and bustle of recently graduated students and crying families. “So is Chan. Don’t think I’ve seen him this drunk since Jisung’s birthday party last year.”
Minho chuckled, shifting on his feet and toying with the fabric of his gown. You furrowed your brows; he only ever got fidgety when hiding something. You learned that for the first time when you were thirteen and he had to wait until your birthday to tell you he’d gotten you two tickets to see your favorite band, and again when he had to keep Chan’s then-girlfriend’s plans of asking him to move in together a secret.
“You’re not nervous ‘cause of graduation, are you?”
You remember the way he stilled almost immediately.
“We always tell each other the truth, right?” He asked.
You remember the way your whole world spun as he pulled out a small box from his pocket and how everything seemed to fade into a white mist that surrounded Minho like a spotlight as he proposed to you.
Your wedding was small — both because that was how you had wanted it to be and because of your lack of money for a proper party.
After graduating, Minho became a dance teacher at the academy he attended as a teen, teaching little kids who he said always reminded him of you two. You used the money your parents had saved for you to travel after college to buy the old flower shop that held so many memories from your childhood. Neither of you used your degrees, and neither of you made a lot of money, but you were overflowing with an infatuation for life and a love for each other so great that it made up for any silly inconvenience that dared to come up.
The ceremony was held at a local church — although neither of you was particularly religious, that was the cheapest place available. You opted to walk down the aisle together; hands clasped the way you used to do for many years while walking home from school. Minho held onto a daisy bouquet you made, while you held the single tulip he had picked out for you that day.
“I’m not good with words,” was how Minho began his vows, the glow of the fairy lights and candles adorning the church rendering his attempt at hiding his tears futile. That was the first time you had ever seen him cry in the twenty-one years you’d known him. “But I think that never mattered with you. You know me better than I know myself. Most times, I don’t even have to say a word, and you’ll still understand me. It’s been this way since we were four, and you understood why I was so quiet, and you still chose to be my friend. Thank you for understanding me, and thank you for allowing me to love you. Loving you is what I do best and look how lucky I am; I’ve been able to do it for my whole life.” He then shot you a grin, the back of his hand wiping away your tears. He ended his speech with a line that was so very Minho, thought up with sincerity but spoken primarily to make you smile. “You’ve always felt like home, and I can’t wait to feel that way until we’re both food for the worms to eat.”
You had never cried so much as you did on the day of your wedding — which was remarkable, seeing as you’d been a crier your whole life. You remember the irony of it all; Minho, who had never been good with words, telling you about his love with words that came from his heart and spilled from his lips without any rehearsal, while you were rendered speechless and too emotional to even attempt to form a coherent sentence.
Your wedding vow was a simple, choked-up, “Thank you for being my best friend, Minho.”
Minho carried you home from the church, with your cheeks flushing pink and his smile beaming as your friends made rice cascade around the two of you like snow. It turned out the boy who hated attention didn’t mind the spotlight so long as it meant showing off his love for you.
Your honeymoon was spent in your small house above your flower shop — which you named Daisy’s Tulips — where you cuddled under a blanket fort the entire day, only leaving the comfort of the pillows and fluffy covers well after midnight to adorn the sidewalk in front of your house in a brand new chalk drawing.
“Can you imagine if we never said anything?” Minho suddenly wondered aloud, his chuckle echoing through the quiet street. “We were both pretty good at hiding our feelings for so long.”
And you simply shook your head, painting a daisy with white chalk on the sidewalk. “Minho, I know you. You wouldn’t have let me keep pretending after finding out I liked you too.”
“Who says I would have found out?”
“You said it yourself,” you explained, “I know you better than you know yourself, and that’s reciprocal. You would’ve found out ‘cause I can never hide anything from you.”
And Minho smiled, taking your hand in his just as you were done with your drawing. Your gaze shifted toward him, and you admired the man he had become. From the shy little boy who sat beside you to the quiet teenager with thick glasses to the man he had grown into; you loved every version of Minho you had the privilege to meet throughout your life, and you were certain you would love every new version of him you came to know in the future as well.
“Of course you can’t,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I’m your best friend, aren’t I?” He asked with a grin, and you nodded. He then added, “Thank you for being my best friend.”
♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist
#stray kids#stray kids fic#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz fic#skz smut#lee know fluff#lee know#lee know smut#lee know scenarios#stray kids x you#skz#fanfic#lee know x reader#lee know x you#lee know imagines#lee minho#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#stray kids scenarios#stray kids smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
hueheueheu if its okay can i req rich bf aventurine? Always spoiling reader and buys everything she wants 🥹🥹
✸ SYNOPSIS. your boyfriend, aventurine spoils you in more ways than one when you come back to your shared hotel room in penacony.
note. uhh, this actually turned out a tad more melodramatic than i expected help, i put some of my own twists in there. first aventurine fic so sorry if its too ooc !
tags. aventurine x female reader. fluff, bits of angst, suggestive. reader gets called ‘baby, pretty’. use of aventurine’s real name once. reader is a bit insecure at one point. little bits of penacony and aventurine lore / subtle spoiler to the 2.1 quest. wc: 1.4k-ish
“c’mere, pretty.” aventurine’s voice soothes your weary body the moment you step into your shared hotel room. you’ve just gotten back from some business you had to take care of—a couple hours of your valuable day wasted because of it.
you’re greeted by your lover sitting on one of the red couches, accompanied by various bags and boxes all around the space. aventurine shoots you his signature smile. one that’s actually genuine. the one he only shows you.
“must’ve been tough, hm? i’m sorry i couldn’t help you out,” the blonde man sighs as he stands up to meet you halfway. a gloved hand finds its way onto yours, fingers intertwining without wasting a second.
aventurine places a delicate kiss on your palm and slowly moves down to your wrist. his beautiful eyes lure you in, “you’d forgive me for that, right?”
you don’t realise that you’re practically frozen in place until he chuckles in amusement. you snap out of it and clear your throat, trying to get yourself together, “y-yeah. i understand you’re busy ‘n all. it’s no problem.”
aventurine hums in response. there’s a faint flash of guilt in his eyes before it disappears like it was never there. like it was a delusion. well, perhaps it was. staying in penacony for too long causes you to have difficulties differing reality from dreams and vice versa.
“i’m happy to have you back with me,” aventurine pulls you closer by the small of your back. he presses you against him until your chests are touching. his breath is pleasantly warm against your bare skin, “i’ve been waiting for you all day.”
the tension in the hotel room is heavy. it’s like this every time you’re with your lover. the spark never dies between you two. it never will. you both need each other, in unspoken ways.
you avert your gaze to the ground. no matter how much time you spend with aventurine, his affectionate gestures never fail to make you melt into a puddle. maybe it’s in those eyes of his. or in his homelike touch.
aventurine continues peppering you with kisses. he doesn’t miss a spot—every patch of skin you’re showing is showered in his love. that’s one of the only ways he can illustrate those complicated feelings inside of him.
his lips eventually find yours, like a force drawn to a magnet. you cup his face and deepen the kiss. your lips move in sync, slowly and passionately. you need this as much as he does.
the way he’s holding onto your coat—his fingers digging into the material as if he’s missed you greatly. . . his tongue trying to seek entrance into your mouth as if he can’t wait to be one with you. to try and love you like you love him. . .
a light hearted chuckle makes you pull away. you open your eyes and find aventurine grinning down at you, his finger rubbing your bottom lip gently to tease you.
“haha, how cute.” the blonde man snickers at your needy expression. he knows what you want, and he wants it as well, though there’s enough time for that after, “we can get to that later, yeah?”
"aww, 'kay,” you nod with a pout, to which aventurine responds by gently flicking your forehead. he grabs your hand and leads you to the nearby table. you can’t even see the surface because of the numerous boxes placed on it.
“i want to show you what i got you first,” aventurine continues, sitting down on the comfy couch. he pulls you onto his lap and wraps one arm around your waist, the other one reaching out towards the mountain of fancy gifts.
you can easily recognise the expensive bags by now. aventurine is known for spoiling you rotten. the overpriced brands are nothing but child's play to the lucky man. money isn’t a worry to him, nor should it be for you, as he says every time you feel the slightest bit guilty for his big spendings on you.
“kakavasha..” you mutter under your breath. aventurine doesn't respond, but he reassures you by lightly tightening his grip on your waist. you turn your head and look at him. he isn’t looking back at you this time. rather, he’s looking down at the box in your hand, patiently waiting for you to open it.
you wordlessly undo the wrappers and open up the first gift of many. it’s an earring. one that resembles his. it shines brightly once you pick it up. the color is beautiful, as it reminds you of your lover.
you don’t know what to say. you don’t want to guess how much aventurine has spent on it either. you love him, that you surely do, but are you really deserving of this much? he spoils you every day. all that money he spends on you without hesitation makes you overthink.
you shake your head and try to get those negative thoughts out of your head. you don’t want to ruin this precious moment all too much. you smile fondly and put the earring on, “thank you so much. it's so pretty.”
the jewelry dangles off your left ear, the opposite of where aventurine’s got his hanging. the blonde man silently admires you. the light illuminating the stones gives you an ethereal look. especially in a dimly lit room with only a few light sources.
“no need to thank me, baby,” aventurine murmurs, his voice a surprisingly soft whisper. his thumb trails down the shell of your ear and eventually touches the earring again. the fact that you’re wearing the exact same one as he is, but on the opposite ear, is doing indescribable things to him.
you complete each other.
all his life, aventurine has never properly taken the time to appreciate his gift; his luck. he is doing so now—with you in his embrace. it’s like his surroundings have come to a halt. all that his eyes are focusing on, is you. the image of you in his arms.
“it suits you perfectly.” aventurine’s voice trembles lightly. he doesn't know why he's feeling like this. he’s overwhelmed by how lucky he is to have someone so breath-takingly beautiful in his presence. “gorgeous—you’re gorgeous.”
aventurine is not the only one who’s flustered. your own heart is pounding in your chest. your lover knows just what buttons to push to make you all flustered. he succeeds without fail every single time.
you lean your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his torso. aventurine welcomes the affection without a word. you look up at your partner with a softened expression before complimenting him back, “no, you are. you are beautiful."
aventurine’s eyes widen for a split second, his lips parting. you’s aware of the effects your compliments have on him. they make him feel giddy, however he also isn’t the best at expressing that. he regains his composure and grins, “oh, really? hah, how flattering.”
you giggle quietly and nod. you’re content with this. being in your lover’s arms after a rough day, unpacking the many gifts he got you, receiving his attention and affection. you wish you could do this for eternity.
after you’ve shared your precious moment together, aventurine leans agains the back of the couch and pulls you into a warm hug. one you both simply had to have. your lover starts to pat your head in a soothing manner.
the silence in the hotel room is deafening. the opened gifts and abandoned wrappers lay scattered around the table and floor. the static of the television in the distance is somehow comforting.
both aventurine and you realise that this instant will be over as soon as the next day arrives. it’s but a fleeting moment, one that will sooner or later be just another memory. you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and he answers this by kissing your forehead. his lips leave a tingling sensation on your skin.
the comfortable silence continues for a couple seconds more. aventurine stares up at the ceiling. he’s sure that he’s satisfied for now, yet there’s still unease boiling in the pit of his stomach.
perhaps it’s due to his knowledge of the near future. his grande plan.
but, that’s not what’s important. not when aventurine can feel and hear your heartbeat right next to him. he hasn’t lost it all. not yet. he’s still got time to spend with the other gift that was bestowed upon him at birth: you.
“you’ll stay with me, right? no matter what.”
aventurine’s sudden question breaks the quiet atmosphere. you open your eyes again and tilt your head back, gazing down at your lover. one look at his face and you know that he needs your honesty at the moment. more than anything else in the entire universe.
you nod and lean in to kiss him—to show him that you mean it when you say; “yes. no matter what.”
#sttoru writes.#hsr x reader#aventurine x reader#hsr x you#hsr x y/n#aventurine x you#aventurine x y/n#honkai star rail x reader
945 notes
·
View notes
Text
How I Imagine TWST Could Be If There Was A Female!MC
Had a bad day yesterday and just wanted to write some brainrot for myself
TW: MC/Reader is solely female here and will be main point talked about/focused on. Many mentions on bullying because you are a girl in an all-boys-academy.
Little differences/somethings there would be I think if MC was female:
Since NRC is an all-boys-academy I think there might be some differences on how the MC might be treated.
Let's just pretend you are really the only girl there, for simplicity's sake.
Grim might feel indifferent OR is stupid enough to not get why being a girl in an all-boys-academy might be a big deal for everyone.
Crowley might go HMMMM how UnusUAL, I'm sure my schOOL isn't miXED....HMMMMM...pondering very deeply.
Oh, well. Who cares. Do his chores anyway.
Would give you the usual school uniform, might ask if you'd like a skirt or even maybe dig up some old skirts. Who knows, maybe NRC used to be mixed.
If you do want that, he'd make you -PSYCH! Of COURSE he'd tell Sam to buy you one. Size and length as well as style can be chosen by you, it just needs to fit with the rest of the uniform.
When barging into the ceremony I believe everyone would be too startled/beside themselves to notice. Grim is the nuisance having to be dealt with.
If there is anything you specifically need...Crowley will just throw it your way.
On your first day Ace might need a second to realize you are a girl. Uh, not only do you not know who the Great Sevens are but you are at the wrong school, too, idiot! Haha! What's a girlie doing here?
Shenanigans happen quickly and Deuce comes to the rescue!
Needs much longer to realize you are a girl. You speak your thanks and as he says it's no problem he - suddenly - clams - up.
Oh. Oh. You...g-g-g-girl...? Female....? A womf...?
Blushes like crazy and can't get a peep out, still as a statue. Ace's yelling is what snaps him out of it.
When Ace asks you if he could stay the night since...he got cuffed...you are first like - hmmm. Hmmm.
ಠಿ_ಠ
Nah, nah, nah! It ain't like that! He's gonna sleep on the couch in the lounge! There is no other place and Ramshakle is as good as abandonded anyway. What, you just want some cat as company?
...What do u mean here are ghosts ಠ_ಠ
Trey would be like, oh. Hello. Um, well, I didn't expect you here.
Well, if the headmaster says so, please, feel welcome! Anyone and everyone is welcome to a tea party! (well, if it aligns with the rules...)
Cater might be more surprised. You are so cute! Like, don't take it the wrong way but he just...finds you cute! From the way you make your hair to how you get a unique outfit (if you choose to wear an uniform skirt), oh he wishes he could do it too! Unfortunately, he can't cuz well, uniform is UNIform...
Riddle is too preoccupied and pissy to even notice a new person in the room. He'd probably only notice you after his overblot is over.
Cue in a few days later and he comes to apologize and properly introduce himself. As you introduce yourself back he makes the silent note that you are actually a girl. Huh. This school is not mixed...and you being here certainly must break a rule somewhere...but...you don't seem so bad, so he'll just ignore it. He is the dormleader of Heartslabyul, not of the entirety of NRC.
All in all: Ace barely cares that you are a girl and would just throw his usual jokes and jabs. Would sometimes throw in some that have to do with you being female but those are never in ill will.
Deuce my beloved would at the beginning be very shy but grows used to you and proclaim you as his best friend anyway. Would sometimes forget you are a girl and catch himself in the act. Might feel sheepish or EXTREMELY embarrassed. When the topic of you being female comes up anywhere, no matter with whom, he gets flustered and shy regardless of how close you are.
Trey is the most indifferent but throws in some protective advice anyhow. As your senior and you as his junior, he has to look out for you and he takes you being the only girl in an all-boys-school in account as well while doing so.
Cater annooooooys you to hell and back about how cute you are. He just thinks girls have much more variety when it comes to styling and likes to show you new trends. He has sisters as well so he is more used hanging around girls, anyway.
Riddle is also indifferent but he catches himself often in situations where he focuses intently on you being female. Do you feel comfortable? Is anyone bullying you? That behaviour is unacceptable, so do tell him when something like that happens. Riddle tries to grow from his flaws but will gladly cuff someone's head for that anyday...
Would also act more gentlemanly for you. Opens doors, tells Ace and Deuce to hold your books can't you see they are heavy, invites you over to tea parties and takes out the chair for you. A bit more reliant with you when it comes to rule-breaking.
Savanclaw issssss...a bit more attentive of you being female.
Jack is a million times x 100000 more protective of you. You are the only girl here and people here kinda suck are like twisted villains. What are you doing here?!
He has little siblings so he somewhat sees you as his third one (if you'd like that. Though he would never admit that...) and just asks and asks and asks if you are okay, if you need something.
Will walk you from class to your dorm or anywhere else you need to be even if he doesn't, no matter what.
10000000% tsundere. He's...not doing this cuz he's worried...or likes to take care of you.
Ruggie is confused??? On what??? you??? are??? doing here???
UH this is not a mixed school!!! Helloooo??? Does something go 'ding ding ding'! in your head or what?
Also protective, mostly because of his own siblings and that he thinks you are naive. People that are different in any regard are unfortunately easy targets for others. This school won't be easy for you he already knows. So he might as well help out instead of being another troublemaker for you.
While he helps out he is also kinda wary of you??? Women in his home are uh, intimidating and if you have been doing good so far, you surely are, well, at least something that he doesn't want to mess with. Better stay on your good side, even IF you are a more gentle and meek one.
Leona issss....weird?
Makes fun of you but makes sure you aren't messed with at the same time? Tsundere that drank respect women juice.
Don't hang around him, don't bother him...but also stay out of trouble, if someone bothers you, tell them Leona sent you.
Softer around you and while he does tease you, he never really disrespects you. Distant but not cold.
Azul is intriguied but perhaps wouldn't care too much - unless he can make a deal out of this.
Aren't you tired getting all of this attention? You are magicless and the only girl to boot! Azul can help you...just sign here.
Might try to win your favor by being a suck-up gentleman by calling you Miss (Name). How are you today? Need any help?
Only if you can offer anything useful to him. Like, no offense but you're magicless...and unfortunately not as stupid as ADeuce.
Besides, his gentlemanly acts aren't as genuine as Riddle's.
Floyd has a 50/50 chance of not caring a bit or straight up interested in you because you are female.
Either: Huh? So what, you are just another plankton.
Or: Huh? A fishie swimming against the stream? What's a girl doing here?
However, if you are not interesting enough expect his interest to go down the drain.
If you heavily react to being picked on because you are girl, don't show it. Otherwise Floyd will exploit it like crazy. Will mention how lonely it might be to be the only girl, will pull on your hair, might switch between Shrimpy and Miss Shrimpy or straight up call you girlie or lassie. Kind of a bully but likes you nonethless if you are interesting.
Jade will increase his gentlemanly behaviour 100%!
Is more intrigued by you than Floyd. Oya, oya, what do we have here?
More keen on calling you miss or whatever you prefer and treats you quite nicely, almost like a princess, especially if you are regular at Monstro Longue.
Just as teasing as his brother but more consistent with it. Likes to mess with you but acts less roudy than Floyd but there is still...a certain air to him that makes him even more unbearable than his twin. A weird mix of looking down at you and treating you like you are special.
KALIIMMMM
A good boy 100%. Stupid enough or rather oblivious to notice that you are indeed the only girl here!
Nothing would change to how he treats you honestly. A good guy, a real champ. Is definitely gonna give you nicknames however if you are sweet to him, ending your name with the honorific '-chan' and you cannot convince me otherwise.
Can be very stupid about how your situation might affect you. Treats it like nothing's wrong, cuz there IS nothing wrong!
JAMILLLL
Kinda confused as well? Well, you've been here long enough and are surrounded by good friends so he takes it you are or will be fine.
Still, be careful, okay? There are some meanies out here...he's not saying it out of worry, it is common sense.
Might keep an extra eye out for you but if nothing happens, he'll stop. His priority is Kalim and if you are okay, then everything else is okay, too.
Will tell Kalim to stop being so unaware of your situation. Show a bit of decency, try to see it from her perspective. You are magicless as well so things are sure to be difficult.
Might also ask Ace on how you are doing to get a third party's perspective of things during basketball training. Just as pre-information, nothing more...
Will definietly not ask Floyd. He knows how he is and if the topic turns to be about you and he hears it, he gets all "Heeee, you're talkin' about Shrimpy????"
It's annoying. It's even more annoying how much Floyd wants to annoy you.
Might think of his sister when he sees you and remembers to write to her a bit more frequently.
Epel: "Wait, you are a girl for real?! I thought yer just looked like one, like me! ...O-Or pretended to be one, maybe, I think..."
Squints his eyes reaaaal hard to really identify you. You sure you're a girl? And not just...a pretty boy like him?
Hm, ah shucks. Kinda hoped he might find another cursed soul like him. Well, at least you get it when people treat you a certain way just because of your looks.
Might have an easier time to show you his true self when speaking since you might either see through him easily or because he just knows he doesn't need to pretend in front of you.
He has a feeling you get it.
And when you agree and tell him how cool he is? Aquired yourself immediately a fierce friend (or crush, he kinda liked it when you called him cool...)
Hell, yeah, you get it!
Does actively NOT treat you with you being female in mind. You're one of the boyz. Doesn't want you to feel any different or casted out.
Got your back like crazy. He finds himself feeling more confident around you and will defend you like nothing else. So what if you are a magicless girl?! You're hella cool yourself!
Will call you cool and not cute, even if it isn't accurate.
The most annoying for sure is Rook.
The guy is a romantic at heart and believes it is fate that you came here.
You aren't an outcast! No, you are like a chosen hero! A princess around 22 twisted villains~ How exciting! Doesn't it make your heart beat faster?!
'Mademoiselle' is thrown at you constantlyyyy. The moment you hear the word you know Rook is around the corner, watching you. Weirdly nice and romantic towards you. He truly does believe you being in NRC is something special. He cannot help but gush about it!
When it comes to special events, he offers to prepare you for it with outfits or make-up. He's creative and sees you as his canvas and believes that no matter will be done or not, you will look beautiful! 100 points!
Vil is *sucks in breath* quick to criticize.
Doesn't truly care...but if you show the slightest bit of interest in fashion and beauty, hooh boy will he be watching.
Means to help but is, uh...mean. So, so, so mean.
But other than that...I don't think he'd care? HE is the fairest of them all...and you are just a potato.
Huh? Oh no, is this some shojo manga and you are the heroine getting a reverse harem or somethin'?
Idia is...weirded out but as long as he doesn't have to deal with you, he'll be fine.
Until you start getting involved in these overblots and...everything turns out okay? Like in a happy ending of a fairytale?
OMG are you a heroine?
No, he doesn't wanna be part of your harem!
Maaaaybe a bit more shy but just maybe. Will avoid you just as he does to everyone.
When in a good and braver mood, will call you 'heroine' when some 'anime shenanigans' happen as he calls them. If you're confused, will scream internally out of embarassment but also HOW COULD U NOT KNOW THAT TERM U NORMIE
Might call you that more often to mess with you.
Orhto kinda...won't care?
Probably scans you on your first meeting and goes 'yep, indeed f for female'.
As long as you are nice to his brother, all is good. Hey, be his friend too, while you're add it! Pretty please?
Malleus wouldn't care either. You being a magicless girl in NRC is quite curious and he will ask you about that...but no matter what your answer might be, he will listen, maybe take it to heart and set it aside, here and there. He doesn't care much for it.
As long as your bravery and willingness to be his friend remains, he won't ever make a fuss about it. Just be you.
During your meeting he might ask, "Oh? Are you perhaps a witch with a fitting black cat living here now in this abandonded house with a few ghostly roommates? Heh, I jest."
No matter what, you will still be his Child of Man.
If you do end up having trouble in school because you are a girl, he might go to Lilia for advice. He never had to deal with something like this before...shall he burn these bullies to crisps for making you school life difficult?
Lilia secretly agrees but tells him not to.
Other than that, same old Tsunotarou.
Lilia would go like "oh!" and that's it.
Curious, this is unusual for NRC but he is always happy and excited when changes happen.
Like the old man that he is he offers you his advice and help in anything. Even if he is an ancient fae, he is also your senior, so go ahead and ask him, alright?
Will also call you something endearing like Kalim and Rook. Adds the honorific '-chan' to you, definitely.
Very glad you are Malleus' friend, for that you automatically earned his protection. Just call when something's up, k?
Silver first needs to wake up.
huh????? zzz...
Wait, let him wake up...
Still a bit more.
There we go. Now that he is fully awake he realizes you are a girl.
Still somewhat in his dream lands, might wake up and say, "Wait, I didn't dream about a princess...or did I?" when he sees you.
Sometimes he does not fully realize its you when he freshly woke up. Needs to blink away the weariness before he goes "oh."
A tad bit more worried about you than his old man. Anything could happen and while you are in good hands not Crowley Silver sometimes tends to think about your happiness and safety here at NRC. You doing okay with the lessons? The teachers? The classmates? He's willing to offer his protection too, you know.
Perhaps its a knight thing to protect the maidens or smth, i dunno.
HUMAAAN!!!
WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?! THIS IS N R C, SILLY! AN ALL-BOYS-ACADEMY! THERE'S NO 'F' IN THAT!
BUT THERE WILL BE ON YOUR MARKS SINCE YOU SUCK SO MUCH!
A meanie, especially at the beginning since he doesn't believe you belong here.
Magicless at a magic school? Failure.
Female at an all-boys-school? Unaccaptable.
nOT WaKA-SAmA????? A DISGRACE
He will warm up to you though...it takes time. Protective as Silver but not as subtle.
Idiot will scream HOW OF COURSE YOU NEED HIS HELP YOU ARE THE ONLY GIRL HERE! HOW MANY HAVE ALREADY MOCKED YOU, HUH?! CUZ HE CAN PROBABLY COUNT HOW MANY TIMES BUT WOULD NEED 20 HANDS FOR THAT!
Means well but...obnoxious.
#twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland#f!reader#f!mc#twst headcanons#smth silly#smth stupid#my days have been hell i need this#twst x f!reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
thinking about ace/demi Eddie being terrified to be with Steve. Like he sees the way Steve looks at him. Knows how he feels about Steve. Can't believe Steve might feel the same. So he tries to keep things friendly, backs off on the flirting.
But one day Steve actually asks him out. Like on a fucking actual real date. And Eddie wants to say yes. His whole being shaking with want. But he can't speak. Just shakes his head. And Steve backtracks, is all,
"oh. Yeah. No. That's- that's okay. Sorry if i- did i read this wrong? I thought-" and he looks so confused, sad eyes on Eddie, his hands fidgeting together in front of him. And Eddie can't fucking take it. He's like,
"You didn't read it wrong. I just... i can't... give you what you want. I don't like sex. Or like... i dont want it? Or might want it later, but not right now? I don't know. It's confusing. And hard to explain. I just-" he cuts off, his breath shaking in his chest and Steve's just looking at him, his face open and he's just listening, nods a little, encouraging Eddie to keep going. Eddie sighs, drops his head into his hands and mumbles.
"I just want you to be happy Steve. And i know you like sex. I'm sure its great. For you. But i don't... i don't care about it. I don't need it or really want it? I just... i like you so much Steve. And I'd genuinely love nothing more than to go out with you. And- and be with you. But just... not like that. At least not... not for awhile. Maybe not...ever." and Eddie's crying softly now, wipes at his face and looks up at Steve and see him looking back with the softest fucking look. He looks so fucking fond, and now Eddie's confused. His brow furrowed. And Steve scoots closer, reaches for Eddie's face and just cradles it and says,
"I just wanna be with you too Eddie. I don't need sex. That's not- i mean it's nice, really nice, sometimes. But i think... maybe it'd be nice to be with someone and not have it be about that? Is that- is that okay?" Steve moves his thumbs ovwr Eddie's cheeks, wiping the tears away.
"Steve. I might never want it. That's- that's a lot to ask i can't-"
"You're not asking. I'm offering." Steve licks his lips, takes a deep breath.
"I don't wanna be with you for sex. I like you Eddie. You're ridiculous, and smart, and kind, and so fucking weird. And you make me smile. You make me happy." Steve shrugs,
"That's why i wanna be with you. Cuz i like you. And i think you like me. So I'd like- I'd like to try. If you want?" His hand is on Eddie's thigh now. Eddie's heart is pounding. And Steve's still looking at him with that soft look. Eddie nods.
"Okay. Yeah. I wanna try. I want to." Eddie lays his hand over Steve's, he's shaking. Steve smiles at him, soft and sweet.
"Is kissing okay Eds? Cuz i really wanna kiss you right now." His smile grows as he talks, he looks giddy now, smiling like he can't help it. Eddie bites his lip, teeth digging into the bottom one as he smiles around them. He nods again.
"Yeah. Yeah kissing's okay." Eddie's says, breathless. Steve nods, his smile fading as he leans closer, his eyes on Eddie's mouth. Eddie closes his eyes when Steve's nose brushes his cheek, lets Steve lead.
It's just a soft press of lips, and then another. And then one more as Steve tilts his head the other way and slots their lips back together. His fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Eddie neck, not pulling, just resting there, holding Eddie close, like he's something precious. Like he's worth waiting for. Like he's happy just to have him, however he can.
Eddie smiles into the kiss. Feels Steve smile too, their teeth clicking as Steve keeps kissing him through their smiles, and eventual laughter. Steve kisses over his cheeks, and his nose, and his eyes, kisses all over his face until Eddie's laughing into his shoulder and Steve just holds him, laughing too, his hands moving over Eddie's back softly, holding him close as they settle together on the couch.
"I just want you, Eddie. Just you." Steve whispers, kisses Eddie's shoulder before Eddie pulls back and looks at him, tears in his eyes again.
"I want you too." Eddie shrugs, sniffles, wipes his face with the back of his hand. Steve smiles, bright and sweet, and tackles Eddie back onto the couch, settling on top of him and kissing him again and again and again.
#ace / demi eddie munson#asexual eddie munson#demisexual eddie munson#steddie#steddie ficlet#my writing#this just randomly popped into my head#if you see mistakes... no you dont#mine#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson
538 notes
·
View notes
Text
dazai needing a cane post-meursault and he clearly hates using it so to make it more ~fun~ kenji buys several different packs of stickers for dazai to decorate his cane with. and dazai pulls out a fake smile and thanks him and proceeds to shove the sticker packs in his desk drawer and forget about them entirely. until kyouka approaches him a few weeks later and quietly tells him that kenji is worried he didn't like the stickers. and dazai, lying through his teeth says "oh, no, i really did like them! i just haven't decided which ones i want to use yet, they were all so good!" and he watches kyouka report this back to kenji and kenji looks so relieved that dazai figures. what the hell. and he digs out the stickers and pulls off the first one he sees and sticks it on his cane, then lifts it up so kenji can see. and kenji just starts beaming
for several more weeks, that sticker is the only one on the cane. and dazai keeps looking at it. and he'll rub his thumb over it. and it does kinda make having to use the cane more fun, because he's got a little cartoon cow with him wherever he goes too, and he can hear kenji's voice in his mind whenever he sees it saying something supportive that he fully believes with his entire heart to be true. and dazai runs his fingers over the cow so much that the colors start to fade and it starts to peel. so he takes all the stickers home, scrubs off the first one, and he spends hours painstakingly mapping out where to put different stickers and decorating the cane.
and it helps! because kenji didn't just get farm animal stickers - there are sticker sheets reminiscent of all the ada members. tigers for atsushi, bunnies for kyouka, cats for fukuzawa, snowflakes for jun'ichirou, candies and desserts for ranpo, a school-themed sticker sheet with notebooks and pens for kunikida, and one with various weapons for yosano. he still thinks the cane is stupid, and the stickers are stupid too, but they make him smile and it's easier to use the cane when he can at least get some entertainment out of looking at it. and maybe he buys slug stickers himself to add to the collection, and lucy gives him a sticker with the cafe's logo, and ranpo gives him a raccoon sticker and naomi and haruno find a cute flower-themed sticker sheet and suddenly the cane doesn't feel so much like a burden or a hinderance or a weakness. suddenly it's just another new part of himself he's found while with the agency, and it's a tangible reminder that he has more friends than he ever thought possible - people he trusts, people he cares about and who care about him in return. he has something like a family now, and they want the best for him, even when he doesn't want the best for himself
#thinking Thoughts#found this in my drafts and ohgmy god i'm going to start crying#i was literally so right for this i'm obsessed with it#dazai osamu#bsd#bungou stray dogs#hello grace here
807 notes
·
View notes
Text
protective clarisse save me ANWAYSSSS enjoy
*mentions of clarisse picking reader up and carrying her around
PLEASE ignore the fact i forgot ambrosia existed thanks 🙏🙏 yk i just be saying stuff
it starts out like any capture the flag game
except for the fact you’re on different teams
like in so it goes when clar tells y/n “don’t do anything i wouldn’t do”
everyone once in a while the teams switch up
and clarisse has a really hard time when you’re not on the same team, but she can usually function
she’s worried out of her mind obvi
we all know you’re her achilles heel
but for some reason this time clarisse just has a really bad feeling
she’ll probably threaten everyone on her team- if they so much as LOOK at you in the wrong way she’s going to make their lives a literal hell
and everyone is like ok scary lady 🫡
they all know clarisse don’t play about you
so the game is going pretty normal
you’re just doing your thing and clarisse is hunting around you
it’s really funny because you and a few of your siblings are just fighting whoever makes their way to you
and you win every time
bc clarisse is still letting you win 😭😭😭😭
the good members of her team get told to turn around
and then she lets the weaker ones, the stragglers she doesn’t care about, pass through and then smiles when you cheer after winning even tho she can’t see you
you feel her eyes on you tho sometimes it’s kinda creepy
but basically annabeth and the blue team had set up these trenches in random parts of the wood
they were lined with like a bunch of leaves and spare linens so they were soft at the bottom
but someone 🙄🙄🙄 ugh
forgot to soften up one of them and that’s the one you fall into
she hears you scream and she’s like WOAH HOLY FUCK
running through the woods you’re crying at the bottom of this 6 ft deep hole your siblings are screaming
like she literally throws herself to the ground and drags you out of the pit pure adrenaline
and like she could tell just by your screams and the look on your face that you were HURT HURT
but she knows you need her rn so she pulls you into her lap and asks what hurts
and you can’t even speak you’re in so much pain but you gesture to your leg and maybe clarisse just didn’t want to notice it before but like that bitch is BROKEN
she’s literally shaking
“it’s okay it’s okay baby it’s okay someone is gonna go get a healer right? SOMEONE IS GOING TO GO GET A HEALER, RIGHT?”
*cue like 10 random campers all running off*
and you’re screaming and crying and your siblings are freaking out so the game kinda stops bc everyone is like what happened 😭
then they just walk into this clearing and see you pale and crying and leg obviously broken, sitting in a shaking clarisse’s lap
one of her siblings definitely has to come over and subtly say that she’s like doing a good job LMAO
bc she is STRUGGLING
like she’s never been so scared in her life
her heart is pounding her hands are shaking
but for the first time in her life she’s not really angry right now
she’s just fucking terrified
and she HATES it
she’s stroking your hair and has her arm wrapped around your waist so tight
she tells you “just dig your nails into my arm”
and you can’t even comprehend what’s going on so she grabs your hands and let’s you squeeze so hard she swears her fingers come out a little crooked
FINALLY some apollo kids come over with a stretcher
so then she starts yelling at them “BE GENTLER SHES HURT DUMBFUCKS”
then finally after clarisse’s incessant screaming she holds your hand as they take you back to the healers
then 20 minutes later they reset your leg and put it in a little cast and give you some AMAZING painkillers
so you’re like omg
clarisse is like pale and sweaty and her heartbeat is so erratic one of the healers actually has to come over and be like “maybe you should sit down and get checked out..?”
she starts screaming at them
then you’re like “omg no my saviors are fighting ☹️☹️☹️☹️”
“no no i’m sorry i didn’t mean to make you sad it’s fine it’s fine we’re not fighting”
“yay!!!!!!!”
she has to lay down in your bed and take some really deep breaths in order to calm down
and you’re just happy bc you are floating and you have your gf with you
you’re babbling on about something and clarisse is like wtf is happening to me
but also she’s acting like you just died
holding your head to her chest and staring off into the distance like that one painting of ivan the terrible holding his dead son y’all know
and you’re just happy
she’s kissing all over your face and head and telling you about how she’s gonna help you
“i’ll carry you whenever you don’t feel like using your crutches, i’ll make sure you take all your medicine, i’ll find and kill whoever did this to you, i’ll sleep with you every night just in case, and i won’t let you out of my sight ever again, and i’ll make chiron switch the teams back”
she ends up doing all of those things obvi
she annoys chiron so much he makes a permanent rule that the ares and your cabin always have to be on the same team
clarisse becomes 10x worse in terms of protectiveness
like she’s watching you like a HAWK
she just felt so totally helpless in that moment so unprepared and she never wants to feel like that again
she doesn’t think her heart can take it actually 😭
she does find the person and loses dessert privileges for 5 months for what she did!!!!!
she sleeps with you ever night bc the meds make you sleep restlessly and she’s always there to whisper in your ear and lull you back to sleep
even if you’re like oh i can just use my crutches she’s always staring at the ground like it’s a monster that’s gonna hurt you so she’s like
“hm well i don’t think so actually haha just let me carry you”
“I WANT TO WALK CLARISSE”
*picking you up* “no it’s fine this is safest”
“LET ME DOWN”
basically you’re just the love of her life and she can’t imagine something else happening to you
#clarisse la rue#clarisse la rue x reader#clarisse la rue x y/n#clarisse la rue x you#pjo tv show#pjo x reader
927 notes
·
View notes
Note
im begging on my knees for you to see my vision of riding Luke in the driver’s seat of a car after a stressful and dangerous quest 😩😭 THE TENSION!? THE ROUGHNESS??
🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥
mdni
luke castellan x reader
a/n: it's 7am... i... don't know either. smut. unprotected sex. semi public. slight exhibitionism
wc: 835
riding luke in the driver's seat of a car he stole while accompanying you on your first official quest.... having a car was a quicker way to get the job done he said, and chris also reasoned the old lady they carjacked won't know what she's missing. with two sons of hermes against you, even if you disagreed with them they still wouldn't hear a single complaint from your lips once you could sit in the ac instead of trod through the summer midwestern heat.
a week later you're sitting in the parking lot of a motel in rural illinois. one second you're grinning over the success of your quest and waiting for chris to come back with the room key and the next second luke's pulling you over the console into a bruising kiss that makes his cracked lips bleed. days ago you remember watching luke pick the locks of this car just as easy as he flicks your belt open just now, your knees digging into the hot metal of the seatbelt mechanism next to his thighs as you rise up from your haunches and he can see the sweat glistening on your tummy, back arching over the steering wheel. your shirt flies over his shoulders and lands somewhere in the backseat. shorts following as quick as he can pull them off you, slick rubbing against the meat of your thighs so much that when you sit back down on his lap he can feel it through his jeans---the heat isn't just coming from the red glow of the motel sign almost vibrating with the words 'open 24/7'.
he presses your back across the wheel, one hand snaking up to your throat and the other dragging your panties to the side for him to peek and prod at in the dim light. with his seat leaned all the way back, he watches you like you're something out of the porn magazine chris jokingly nicked from the gas station earlier, shiny with sweat and something he can smell, desire reeking from every pore of your tired body. demigod aside, you're a fucking fever dream, a nasty thought that keeps luke hard at night until he can jack off when everyone finally goes to sleep in cabin 11. the only thing he'll be thanking the gods for is the fact that his brother left you two long enough for a quick fuck.
"luke, we're still dirty," you mumble, but he knows you couldn't care less, both of you covered in blood and grime and unable to know where he ends and you begin once his fly goes down and you sink onto him like a perfect mold. this is filthier---the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him tight with every thrust of your hips downwards like he'd ever want to leave this small slice of heaven.
"f-fuck, just like that...you're so tight f'me..."
you grab onto his curls to make him look at you in the dim lighting, dipping your fingers into his mouth as you rock your hips hard and he sucks on them like they're covered in nectar---sharp tongue and plump lips dancing around your digits despite the dirt under your nails but he's entranced by the way your eyes roll back once he starts fighting against your rhythm. it's not a competition but with every noise that spills from your lips as he pistons into your sopping warmth, he thinks he might be winning.
"so dirty baby... you're right... feels too good to stop though huh?" he grins at the sound of sticky skin slapping once he bucks his hips up faster. through the steamy windshield, he can see curtains rustling in the windows near where he parked the car. maybe it's the way the whole vehicle is shaking with the force of your hips, the headlights he accidentally turned back on when taking your clothes off, or maybe its the way you're screaming his name like you want someone to hear.
"oh, luke, i can't! slow down, people are gonna...see!"
you're holding onto his shoulders and peeking at his face through teary lashes and this motherfucker has his tongue between his lips smiling---mortals be damned. they can watch if they want, regardless he fucks into you like he means it. until you fall apart on his cock and there are red handprints on your hips from where he pulls you off of him, the both of you pulling at his cock with his hands over yours until hot streaks of cum paint your tummy to your tits.
there's a knock at the window. rolling the window down at eye level, luke makes eye contact with chris who looks at his brother with a knowing grin. you've thrown your head onto his shoulder in embarassment, sandwiching the multiple stains and fluids between your shaking bodies.
"shower's open. you guys were... occupied so i went ahead. you both need it," chris smirks, before sliding luke the extra key card.
and he's right. the both of you need a shower. good thing the next step after getting dirty is scrubbing each other clean, right?
#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x reader smut#pjo x reader#percy jackon and the olympians
759 notes
·
View notes
Text
౨ৎ waking up is a job for two, chris x reader !!
summary: you have a habit of falling asleep in random places, especially when you're supposed to be filming. chris is the one to constantly wake you up! (aka; 3 times chris wakes you up, and the 1 time chris doesn't).
a/n— this is vv much based on chris n matt saying that chris wakes up him up constantly ^_^ i debated on making this a matt fic but im feeding the chris girls tn <3
1 (A CAR VIDEO)
chris wasn't the one next to you when you had begun to fall asleep, your eyes slipping shut as the conversation went quiet and matt was reading something off his phone to start it back up.
your head rested on nick's shoulder, the two of you always sitting in the backseat whenever you were invited to these videos. you didn't mind though, always happy to be with your best friends.
nick was the first to notice you had fallen asleep, rolling his eyes before taking a selfie for snapchat. he captioned it "sleeping beauty," which he knows he'll get shit for later, but it's funny, so he doesn't really care.
"chris," nick said, kneeing the back of his seat to get his attention away from his ranting. "shut the actual fuck up before you wake them up."
chris and matt turned to look at you, matt laughing and taking silly pictures of you while chris just went quiet and smiled at you.
they began joking about your sleepiness and the way you constantly slept on the job while they wrapped up the video, matt making sure to get a close up of chris and nick looking at you before putting the camera near your drooling face.
the ride home is somewhat quiet, only matt's idle talking and chris' music playing, keeping the car from going completely silent. nick being too busy on his phone, and you're still sound asleep.
chris is left with the job of waking you up, again. his cold hands digging into your sides, feeling like ice as he purposefully soaks up all of your warmth.
"chris?" you say annoyedly, huffing at him as he leans back laughing loudly. "that wasn't fucking funny, your hands are colder than a witches tit!"
2 (AT THE ZOO)
you and chris had split off from the others for just a moment, wanting to go look at the lions one more time before bed. even though it wasn't technically allowed, he had convinced you that there wasn't any harm.
you both sat down in front of the lion enclosure, looking at the lioness as she stared pointedly at you guys. knowing that you were there just outside the glass, you gripped his hoodie sleeve for a little bit of comfort.
"y'know," he says, moving his sleeve away from you so he could grab your hand instead. "we can always go back to the tent?"
you shake your head in response, whispering that you like the quietness. both of you laugh because neither of you is very quiet, but when the laughter dies down and you rest your head on his shoulder, you're almost out like a light.
soft snores come out of you as you sleep on his shoulder. he lets you rest for a bit before he gets a text from nick asking where you guys are, he huffs as he glances down at you asleep.
he feels bad as he gently shakes you awake, "c'mon, let's get back to the tent." he whispers, standing up slowly so you can grab on and he could help you up.
"m' so tired," you say, barely awake as chris basically carries you back to the tent. "can't wait for.. breakfast."
3 (AT TARA'S PARTY)
somehow, you, being you. you had found a way to fall asleep at a bustling party, slipping away into the bathroom for a breather. you sat in the bathtub for a moment, tipsy and socially exhausted.
you should've stayed home with matt, but you just couldn't handle not going places with chris. especially when there were going to be so many people around him. maybe you're a little bit possessive, but that never hurt anybody.
your head dipped forward and back as you tried to stay awake, ultimately failing as you rested your temple on the edge of the tub. falling asleep easily even with the loud music playing.
it only took a couple of minutes for nick and chris to grow worried about where you were, both of them searching the party for you. eventually, it was jake that had stumbled upon you while he was also trying to escape to the bathroom.
getting the call that you were asleep wasn't all that shocking, but in the bathroom had nick laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach. chris made his way upstairs to the bathroom, nick following behind him at a slower pace.
when they saw you in the bathtub, they couldn't help but laugh. your body was completely limp and sweaty as chris peeled you off, wiping your face with his hand as he patted your face gently to wake you up.
"yo," he says, shaking you now. "you gotta wake up, we're going home."
your eyes open slowly, groggily looking around at him and nick standing above you. you faintly hear nick say something, "did you just call me sleepy smurf?" you ask, half asleep as chris picks you up.
+1 (DURING A MOVIE)
getting chris to watch a movie without interrupting or getting distracted was difficult, which is why you put on one that you've seen so many times you could recite it word for word.
friday the thirteenth was playing in the background as he talked at you, not really expecting you to respond as the two of you cuddled.
you didn't know when the distance had closed between you guys, both literally and figuratively. but you couldn't say that you were unhappy, you felt safe around him as he talked and was touchy even in public.
his arm around your shoulder and your head in his chest as a recipe for disaster, a good movie, and his voice was basically a lullaby for you. your eyes fluttering shut as you began drifting, letting your mind wonder as you fell asleep.
it takes him only a couple minutes later to realize you're asleep, peacefully on his chest all curled up on him. he almost wakes you up on instinct, but instead, he stops himself to quickly take a picture.
he rests his hands on your waist, playing with the fabric of your shirt as he bounces his leg while watching the movie. half because of boredom, and half because it was already a long day, he also begins drifting off to sleep.
falling asleep with his head nestled into yours, he pulls you closer even in his sleep. when matt and nick come home, they both stop to look at the two of you.
"i told you so," nick says, smirking at matt as he walks over to turn off the tv. "they had the cliche movie and everything, weirdos."
#button's writing tag#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#christopher sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo x you#christopher sturniolo fluff#christopher sturniolo fanfic
444 notes
·
View notes
Text
rebound and restoration
pairing: choi yeonjun x fem reader | genre / tropes: angst -> fluff, friends to lovers, post-breakup, non-idol au; ft. soobin + mentions of the rest of txt; reader is yeonjun's age (soobin calls reader "noona") | word count: 5.4k | warnings: post-breakup heartbreak, profanity, food, kissing
additional note: fic is mostly written but contains a few texts
summary: with his heart still aching after just getting dumped, yeonjun turns to you, one of his closest friends, for comfort. that is, until he kisses you - and your friendship starts to change.
author's notes: honestly i feel like if i don't post this soon i'll be dissatisfied with it forever and edit it endlessly and it'll never get past my drafts LOL perfect is the enemy of done!! anyway i wrote this while i was feeling stressed and insane during the holidays and wanted... an angsty kiss for whatever reason. lmao yeah
(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)
when yeonjun arrives at your apartment, it’s still early in the evening; the two bowls of pho you ordered for takeout are still hot, and you’ve left your laptop open at a selection of cheesy netflix rom-coms. perhaps the selection is a bit ironic, but you mused that the feel-good escapism is just what he needs.
he pulls you into a hug and you give him an extra squeeze and a few pats on the back. you can’t help but ruffle his hair a little as he pulls away.
“hey, jjun...”
“y/n!”
“how are you feeling?”
“ah, a bit better, i think.”
he gives you a slight smile, and you’re too relieved to notice that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. it’s a miracle to you that he’s even smiling again two weeks after his breakup. you still remember the cracks in his voice when he called you after it had happened, the rims of his eyes red with crying when he finally crashed at your place half an hour later. that night you held him tight as he told the story to you in between sobs: hana had broken up with him over a call that lasted less than a minute. she was bored and tired of him and just stopped caring, she said, if he were a toy she could throw away if she didn’t want to play with it anymore.
you swallowed back the anger in your throat back then, though you couldn’t help the tears of your own that fell. now you push the anger back down again as you lead yeonjun to the small table at your kitchenette, one of the bowls of pho steaming in front of him. now is not the time for indignation; your friend needed comfort, and it’s comfort you will give.
yeonjun’s eyes light up at the sight of the pho. your heart swells, and you don’t hold it against him when he sits down ahead of you and picks up his chopsticks, ready to dig in. in between slurps he grins like he’s just received the best present of his life. “this is so good!” he said in between mouthfuls of noodles. “it’s been way too long since i had this.”
“i know! feels like we haven’t had this in ages.”
“remember when we tried to make our own?”
“oh god, not that!” you laugh, dropping your chopsticks. “we got impatient and that broth tasted like nothing.”
“your kitchen smelled like ginger though,” yeonjun recalls with a giggle. “it was nice visiting for a while.”
“my kitchen smelled like ginger more than the actual broth, jjun.”
“maybe we can try again one of these days? and if we mess up, at least you’ll have a nice-smelling kitchen again.”
all you can do in response is laugh, and for a moment you forget that you stopped having pho nights together when hana entered his life.
he fills you in on video game night with soobin and kai, shopping with beomgyu, and his so-called revenge gym day with taehyun; he beams with pride while describing his new weight record just as much as he does when talking about managing a hard-earned victory over soobin at tekken. you laugh along with him, knowing that his friends blocked out their schedules just to comfort him for a day. and when you talk about your new project at work and the new books you bought yourself as a treat, his eyes fill with that indescribable look you’ve seen before. you can’t quite place what it is, but it reminds you of afternoon light, of summer days, of lingering hugs after a long day together.
you don’t need to ask for yeonjun to help you clear out the table and pick up the snacks you set aside for your movie, and you make no effort to resist. there are no words exchanged: he simply places all the disposable pho bowls and chopsticks together, and you reach for a clean garbage bag and put them all in. the only communication between you is a shared look and a nod.
perhaps it’s just your imagination, but that look lingers a little longer than you’re used to, and you can’t help but give him a satisfied smile.
you’ve seen him look at hana that way, too many times to count, especially during that early-dating phase when the thrill of emotions was still high. you wondered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that gaze, for yeonjun to look at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. and you wondered if hana really was that precious 一 if she were just as precious to him as you, his best friend, if not more so.
you let yeonjun select the movie. at first you doubt your idea to present him with rom-coms, of all things, but you let out a sigh of relief when he happily chooses one of them. both of you have seen this one many times over, but you don’t mind. there’s comfort in knowing that a happy ending is guaranteed to happen.
the two of you are slouched on your couch together, the laptop balanced on a pillow between the both of you. yeonjun sits close to you, an arm around your shoulder, a gesture that he hasn’t done with you since he started dating. you let yourself lean against him (so that you can see the screen better, you tell yourself). the two of you start a running commentary on the movie 一 “why would he say that?!” “aww, they look so cute together,” “oh god, that was so stupid!” 一 and both of your laughter fills the apartment, the sound like a duet in harmony.
it’s so easy this way, you think 一 just you and your best friend in your own little corner of the world. you steal a glance at yeonjun while he’s absorbed in the final confession scene, a soft smile on his lips and his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the big kiss. a string of memories flash before you before you can help yourself.
“she said yes,” he says, his whole face flush with excitement. “she said she’ll be mine.”
his hands are on your shoulders and he gives them a gentle squeeze. “there’s no way hana can’t like you. you’re one of my best friends, i’ll make sure you get along.”
“i think hana’s mad at me,” he tells you as he fiddles with the beanie in his hands. “but don’t worry about it, we’ll talk it out, i promise.”
his head is in his hands as you sit across him from a restaurant booth. “i don’t know what i did wrong, she looked so bored through the whole date...”
you hold him close as he sobs in your arms, his whole body shaking. “sh-she said she’s... tired of me…”
“y/n?”
you snap back to reality as yeonjun glances at you, his head tilted. the ending credits of the movie have started to play. “are you okay?”
“i-i’m fine.” you reach out to touch his cheek, then hesitate. “are you okay?”
“i’m fine, y/n.” he picks up on the meaning of your words. “i know i looked really bad that night, but i’m getting better, i promise.”
“good.” your eyes meet his, and your cheeks grow warm. “we can have nights like this as many times as you want until you feel better, okay?”
“yeah, i know. i missed having nights like this, actually.”
“me too. i really liked it when we did this all the time...”
“i know. i’m sorry. hana didn’t like一”
“hey.” your hand comes up again and this time, you gently hold on to his cheek. “it doesn’t matter what she thinks anymore.”
“y/n... i’m really sorry. i feel like i neglected you, and you’ve been my friend for so long...”
tears form in his eyes, and you feel them warm against his cheek. you wipe them away with your thumb as you move closer to him. he continues to ramble as you do.
“i feel like an idiot. like a total dumbass.” the pitch of his voice begins to rise. “god, i was so convinced that hana and i were the perfect couple, that we’d be happy. i-i thought about her more than she d-did about me, y/n, and i stopped hanging out with you一 when you’ve always一”
“jjun, please don’t apologize anymore,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’ve never been mad at you over her, not even once. i just want you to feel better, okay? i... i just want to see you be yourself again.”
you want to see the yeonjun you’ve always loved.
you’ve lain awake at night wondering if he’s ever sensed your feelings for him, and if he’s ever felt the same way. on the day he told you that he and hana were officially together, you spent that night sobbing in your bed, convinced that your friend would never see you as a lover. and yet you said nothing of that night, and of other nights similar to it, because you told yourself that if hana made him happy, then you would be happy too.
and now you want more than anything to see him happy again.
yeonjun says nothing, but instead places a hand on top of the one you have resting on his cheek. you feel it trembling, but you don’t resist as he grasps your hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. he swallows hard to push back the rest of his tears, and his eyes soften. once again there’s that indescribable look of his that makes you feel light.
“y/n...”
he says your name softly, as if in reverence. his face inches closer to yours and you don’t pull away; instead you feel lighter than ever, your gaze falling to his lips as your eyes flutter shut. everything that follows feels slow, gentle; his nose brushing against yours, then your lips on his.
he kisses you slowly at first, but as you kiss him back you fill with a new fervor, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him wrap his arms around your waist to pull your body flush against his. warmth blooms in your chest, and every movement of yours betrays your feeling: your lips moving against his, your hands making their way into his hair. you want to kiss him until the pain he feels has been replaced by the love you have for him 一 i love you, i love you, i love you.
you’re completely absorbed in him and let out a soft sigh when yeonjun snaps out of it 一 he breaks apart from you, breathing hard, eyes wide as he’s hit by what he’s just done.
“shit, y/n一” he gets off the couch, one hand running through his hair over and over again. “i’m so sorry. fuck, i shouldn’t have done that一”
you’re snapped out of your trance as you stand up to chase after him. “jjun, hey, wait! listen to me—”
he’s picking up his bag from the foot of your couch. he can’t even look at you, instead occasionally letting out a shit or two under his breath.
“yeonjun, please一”
you stand in front of him to block his way from the exit. at first his head is bowed, avoiding your gaze, but when he finally looks up his expression is solemn.
“you are not a rebound to me,” he says at last. “please don’t ever think that i just used you to make me feel better.”
“i never accused you of that! look, i’m sorry too, it was my fa一”
“i’m really sorry, but i can’t stay here anymore. i’ll make it up to you, y/n, i promise.”
“wait一”
yeonjun walks past you and before you can protest any further, he’s out your door. you push it open and try to chase after him, but after a few steps you stop, thinking better of it. what would stopping him even do?
you walk back inside and slump back down on the couch. the screen of your laptop faintly glows, and a half-eaten bag of chips has fallen to the floor. all at once the reality of what happens sinks into you: the kiss, his words, his departure.
you are not a rebound to me. the words echo in your mind.
a strange tension fills you, and you can’t even tell what emotion it’s supposed to be from: confusion, frustration, anxiety. with your whole body seemingly on edge, you grab a throw pillow from the opposite side of your couch and press it into your face.
you sob into it the tension crashes down on you in full force.
一
for the next few nights the scene replays in your dreams: yeonjun leaning in ever closer towards you, your lips meeting his in a fervent kiss 一 each night’s dream-kiss more fervent than the last 一 and him suddenly pulling away. you awaken each time just as he breaks the kiss, the shock and confusion coursing through you again, and immediately after you reach for your bedside table to check your phone.
still no text from yeonjun.
you consider texting him again, but each time you type a new message you erase it, the blinking cursor driving you mad. how would you even know what to say? do you want to apologize? to beg for his forgiveness? to ask if you can still be friends?
you hate to admit it, but every morning you lie in bed for a few moments more to allow the dream to sink in. the look on yeonjun’s face appears vivid to you, from his eyes blown wide to his mouth slightly agape. your mind travels back to the moment he breaks the kiss, as if a sudden force pushed him away, the shock of it hitting you. then it wanders to the kiss itself, the feeling of his lips soft against your own, his arms warm as they hold you by the waist…
you shake the memory away, drag yourself out of bed, and continue on with your routine: breakfast, shower, get dressed. you resist the urge to check your phone for as long as you can. you stare at the little contact photo you set of yeonjun and remind yourself: you’re his friend. you need to help him heal.
you recount your worries to soobin over snacks one day.
“i feel like i’m being selfish,” you say in between munches of potato chips. “he hasn’t even moved on from hana”— soobin winces at the acridity you mutter her name with—“and now one of his closest friends kisses him like she’s madly in love. how is he supposed to move on? he’s hurting enough as it is.”
soobin sets aside the bag of chips you just finished. he rubs his face with his hands as he tries to choose his words carefully.
“you’re not being selfish, noona. you sound like you’re trying to be careful so that you don’t hurt him,” he says at last. “and yeonjun hyung feels just as bad about it. he feels bad that he even started the kiss, and for making you feel like a rebound. you two sound like each other, to be honest.”
“i know he feels bad, it’s just 一 i don’t know how that will fix...” you wave your hands wildly in the air, “this.”
“you can start by talking to each other?”
“he didn’t reply to my last texts. and i… i don’t know if i should text him again.”
a moment of silence. soobin opens a pack of candy and chews on it, just to give himself time to think. he fiddles with his phone as he does, absentmindedly scrolling through his old texts, when one of them catches his eye.
“so, there’s this new restaurant that beomgyu wants to check out.”
“really, soobin, what does this have to—”
“he was thinking of inviting all of us there to hang out,” he continues. “including you and yeonjun hyung. we can plan for it a week or two from now so that you have space? and then you can get used to talking to him again there. if things get awkward, i can ask beomgyu to fill in.”
you purse your lips. “i dunno, i might cry if i see his face again.”
“if you don’t feel like it, just call in sick.” soobin’s mouth twitches into a small grin as he says it — you know he’s used that excuse to get away from social situations he doesn’t want to be in. now you’re starting to see the appeal of it.
“okay. i’ll think about it.”
—
ultimately you do decide to go, and two weeks later you’re the first to arrive at the restaurant. you can feel your hands trembling as you push the door open and your heart hammering in your chest. in your head you’ve prepared what you want to say to yeonjun and you mentally rehearse your words for the hundredth time.
you slide right into the booth and take a deep breath. you check your phone to keep yourself busy, letting yourself calm down until your hands have stopped shaking. as you’re scrolling through your camera roll looking at some memes beomgyu sent you, someone slides into the booth seat opposite yours.
“hey, y/n.”
yeonjun gives you a shy smile and the nervousness in your stomach kicks into overdrive. he looks much better now; the bags under his eyes have lessened, and his smile seems genuine. still, you can’t help but remember the last time you saw him, and you shudder.
he sees your reaction and winces, averting his gaze. when he speaks, his voice is soft. “y/n... are we okay?”
the question breaks you and whatever words you have prepared fly out of your mind. as you try to grasp at them again, tears prick at your eyes.. “yeah... yeah, we’re okay,” you say. you take a gulp of water to hold back the tears. “i was never mad at you, jjun, i’ve been worried out of my mind一”
“i’m sorry i never replied to your texts.” he places his hands atop your trembling ones. “i just felt so ashamed that i didn’t know how to face you.”
“and i’m sorry i never tried texting you again, i just didn’t know what you thought of me, and i was so scared that i lost you...”
“i was so scared that i lost you.”
you sniffle. “that makes both of us then. god, we were so stupid.”
“i missed you, y/n.”
“i missed you too, jjun.”
you let out a laugh of relief and he laughs too. with the sound of his laughter melding with yours, everything else seems to melt away: the tears in your eyes, the other noises of the restaurant, the baggage of the last two weeks. sitting before you is your old friend, holding onto your hand to comfort you, laughing together with you just like you always have.
and just as always, you want nothing more than for your friend to be happy.
“so,” you begin, giving him the most reassuring smile that you can muster, “let’s start over?”
yeonjun glances down at the table, but you can see his eyes crinkling as they usually do when he smiles. “yeah, let’s do that.”
when beomgyu enters the restaurant right afterwards, all it takes is one glance at the scene before him to understand what happened. he turns his head towards you, meeting your gaze, and you give him a nod.
it’s going to be okay.
一
the kiss becomes an unspoken part of your history together, never mentioned and never acknowledged. you stop searching for hidden meanings to it, and instead settle on the explanation that it was simply a spur-of-the-moment reaction from pent-up post-breakup emotions. it doesn’t matter to you whether or not this explanation is true; it’s the explanation that gives you the most peace of mind, and that’s what matters. as the days pass, you think of it less and less, and eventually it is filed away in your memory, like a book never checked out of the library collecting dust.
in the meantime, you pour your energy into rebuilding both your friendship with yeonjun as well as his fragile heart. the first few hangouts with just the two of you are awkward with a tinge of melancholy, with conversations feeling a little too short. fortunately, your shared friends are there to help: you and yeonjun are invited to video game nights at soobin’s, or a cute new cafe that kai wants to check out, or just a walk around the park. the silences feel less awkward when it’s quickly filled by a joke from beomgyu or witty remark from taehyun.
from time to time you see the shine in yeonjun’s eyes disappear, even for just a moment, when he encounters something that reminds him of “the ‘h’ word” (as beomgyu refers to her): a park bench where they had a date, or a dress on a passerby that looks a lot like something she would wear. sometimes one of his friends would recognize it and quickly divert his attention elsewhere. soon those diversions occur less and less often as fewer and fewer things remind yeonjun of her.
but things don’t truly feel normal to you until a month and a half later. your project at work has gone well, and yeonjun has completed the first draft of a mixtape he’s making. just as you muse to yourself that a reward would be nice, your phone buzzes.
that afternoon you and yeonjun stroll down the shopping district a few minutes away from his house, trying on this and that. it isn’t long before you find yourself spending over your budget; it’s hard not to when yeonjun is constantly egging you to buy something you really want. “c’mon, y/n,” he whines as you put back another cute button-down on the rack. “you deserve it! you can wear it to work for the next phase of your project!”
he giggles when he sees your eyes light up at his words. “we do have another presentation for it,” you muse.
still, you draw the line when you spot an elegant tan jacket worn by one of the storefront mannequins. you stare at it longingly as if you’ve found your soulmate, and yeonjun sweet-talks you into entering the shop and trying it on. but when you see the hefty price tag on it, you sigh.
“i can’t justify this, jjun…”
“but you look great in it! and you want it so much. you’ll feel worse if you don’t get it.”
“maybe…” you glance down at the shopping bags in your hand. “i dunno, i’ve spent so much already.”
you sigh in defeat and turn back to the store exit before you can second-guess yourself. yeonjun doesn’t follow immediately, but instead watches you go as he lingers a bit longer.
later that day, the two of you sort through all the things you bought (mostly clothes and accessories, but also a vinyl for yeonjun and a novel for yourself) in between giggles and wide eyes and a shower of compliments. yeonjun puts on a completely new outfit for you and struts down his apartment like a runway model, and he pulls you up from the floor to do the same. soon you’re laughing and clapping at each other’s performances, and yeonjun even whips out his phone to take photos of each other’s best looks.
as you rummage through your haul for one more outfit to assemble, your eyes land on a familiar spot of tan fabric. your mouth falls open when you pull it out and see that jacket — the one you’re pretty sure you didn’t buy. you glance up at yeonjun and he licks his lips before forming a mischievous grin.
“jjun, is this...”
“it’s yours.”
“you didn’t have to一”
“i saw the way you were looking at it, y/n. i just had to get it for you. c’mon, put it on.”
hesitantly, you take off the jacket you’re already wearing and put on the new one. it fits perfectly, just a little loose to let air flow in, and you love how it frames your figure. yeonjun is still smiling at you, but it’s a different smile. he looks at you as if you’ve transformed in front of him.
“you look really pretty,” he says. “let me take a few pics, okay?”
he snaps a few photos of you and you pose for the camera, and a comforting warmth settles over you. if this happened a few months earlier, you would have blushed and your heart would be doing somersaults, but now all you feel is a light flutter. everything feels fit in, like the final piece of a puzzle slotting into place.
you lock eyes with yeonjun as he takes the last photo and puts his phone away. as you whisper “thank you” to him, the gleam in his eyes is reflected in your own. there it is, that indecipherable look of his that makes you feel warm.
you still love him 一 there’s a part of you that still knows that. but over the last month and a half you’ve simply learned to live with your feelings, letting them fill you with lightness for a few moments and then letting them go. feelings or not, you’re just glad to have yeonjun in your life again. even as a friend, his presence is a soothing balm against the stresses of life.
一
months later, yeonjun is sprawled on your couch again, his head on your shoulder as you scroll through your list of rom-coms on your laptop. at one point the two of you resumed your pho and rom-com nights, and you’re glad for it; few things give you as much comfort after a long week of work.
after scrolling back and forth a few times, you pause on the same movie you’ve always watched together and give him a quick look. he simply smiles.
“don’t you get sick of this one?” you ask.
“not really, the ending always feels nice. are you… tired of it?”
“no no, i— i was worried that you’re tired of it.”
“me? never.”
“perfect, ‘cause i’m not either.” you give him a knowing grin and press play.
at this point you both know this movie so well that you recite along to every line. you do the female lead’s lines, yeonjun does the male lead’s, and you even sing along to the soundtrack. yeonjun stretches out on your couch even more, his head ending up in your lap, and in the movie’s quiet moments you find yourself playing with his hair. when the big confession happens you can feel him holding his breath and then releasing it in a laugh when the two leads finally kiss.
the credits roll and he glances up at you, smiling in satisfaction. you smile too and hum along to the end credits song. as the movie ends, you let yourself bask in it: you stretch out your arms, yeonjun sits up to lean on your shoulder again, and you lay your head atop his. the two of you remain like that for a while, sitting in comfortable silence.
“don’t you ever get jealous of them?” you ask.
you feel his head shake a bit as he chuckles. “i hate to admit it, but yeah. rom-coms always make getting together look so... fun.”
“right? i wish my life was like that.”
“god, me too.”
“i swear, it drives me insane,” you huff. “every time i watch this i want to start dating again or something.”
a few more moments of silence. yeonjun lets out a soft exhale and you feel his body grow tense. the air in your apartment seems stuffier.
“speaking of which, i have to tell you something.”
“me...?”
you’ve never heard yeonjun sound so solemn. his head weighs down on your shoulder. “y’know, i’ve been uh... thinking of dating again.”
“oh... where are you dating this time? did beomgyu set you up again?”
he shakes his head, looks up at you for a split second, then looks down at his hands. you see the tips of his ears turn pink.
“actually, i... i have someone mind. someone i want to ask out, i mean.”
with those words the feelings you’ve brushed aside for so long come back in full force. your heart beats so hard it feels like it’s slamming into your chest. when you speak, your voice shakes.
“oh... who’s the lucky one?”
“i-i’ve known her for a while. she’s sweet and fun to be around... we’ve been hanging out a lot more often these last few months. we get along really well, at least i think we do...”
“sounds like you have chemistry with this special girl,” you say, the words heavy on your tongue. the hammering of your heart floods your ears. “so what’s stopping you from asking her out?”
yeonjun sits up to face you fully. you sense the effort it takes for him to look at you 一 has he ever been like this around you before? 一 and you reach for his hands. they’re trembling, and his ears go from pink to red.
“a long time ago,” he starts, voice shaking, “i kissed her. i kissed her after my last breakup. and i wasn’t thinking straight, i was just so lonely that i wanted to be loved again 一 but i can’t do that to yo— to her, she’s one of my best friends, i don’t want yo— her to be a rebound 一 but then you said we could start over so we did and i dunno, at one point i started liking you, i fell so hard i don’t know wh一”
you interrupt him with a kiss, your lips gentle on his. you feel him kissing you back, his movements gentle as his hand comes up to hold your head in place. you find yourself pressed against him and he’s even warmer than you remember, warmer than those dreams you had so many months ago.
when you break apart, his eyes are glazed over in a look of pure admiration.
“y/n...”
“jjun, i...” heat spreads across your face. “i’ve loved you for years.”
“then why didn’t you say anything?”
“how could i? what if you didn’t feel that way and it ruined our friendship? and with all the other guys too?” your heart is still beating fast but you let out the words while your boldness still has a hold on you. “and then you dated hana and i cried but i wanted you to be happy 一 then you broke up and you kissed me and i liked it, and i hated myself for liking it because you were 一”
yeonjun pulls you into him, arms encircling you, and as you keep rambling into his chest he soothes you with one hand combing through your hair. his other arm grips you firmly, and your own arms find a firm hold around his neck.
“i love you too, y/n,” he whispers into your hair before leaving a kiss there. “it’s okay.”
“i love you, so much...”
he pulls apart to get a good look at your face. as he sees a few tears start to roll down your cheeks, he brushes them aside with his thumb.
“so this girl,” he says, affection lacing his words, “after we kissed, she said we could start over. and we did. and i’m really glad we did, because i fell for h一 for you so hard.”
you lean your head forward so that your forehead touches his. “really?”
“really. and i...”
“do you want to kiss her again?”
yeonjun’s breath hitches and his eyes meet yours. there it is 一 that same look of his that makes you feel light. the one that, you realize, makes you feel loved.
“can i?”
“please,” you whisper.
he closes the gap between your lips and his, and this time you feel only relief and bliss.
#txt x reader#yeonjun x reader#txt x you#yeonjun x you#choi yeonjun x reader#kpop x reader#txt imagines#kpop imagines#yeonjun imagines#txt angst#txt fluff#yeonjun angst#yeonjun fluff#tomorrow x together imagines#txt fic#txt fanfic#bhj originals
486 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
steinunnfridriks
Steinunn Friðriksdóttir
stormcloudzz
StormCloudzz
steinunnfridriks
Steinunn Friðriksdóttir
steinunnfridriks
Steinunn Friðriksdóttir
