#why should saying 'they' be any different ?
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It's Always You
Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader
Summary: You and Lando share a mutual attraction, but you've kept things professional due to career implications. However, after his first win race, things may change, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.
Word count: 6013
Author's note: First time writing about Lando. I started writing this on the day of the Miami Sprint and then when he won the next day I told myself I would publish it. Tell me what you think.
It's you, it's always you
Met a lot of people, but nobody feels like you
So please don't break my heart, don't tear me apart
Miami heat wrapped around you like a steamy August day and even if American tracks weren't your thing, the paddock was definitely one of your favourites.
Working with McLaren since 2019 felt like winning the lottery. Travel, new faces, and a taste of different cultures – it was everything you dreamed of. Hospitality put you in the middle of it all – the team, the fans, even the families. Being young, you clicked quickly with the drivers: Carlos and Lando from the start, and Oscar when he joined.
Carlos was your rock, a protective older brother even after his move to Ferrari. Daniel was a blast, always making you laugh with his great sense of humor, and Oscar's calm personality mirrored yours. He became your trackside best friend, sharing everything over coffee and off-track adventures with his girlfriend, Lily.
Then there was Lando. Your relationship with Lando was different. Unlike Carlos, you saw him not as a brother, but as a friend... friends that had feelings for each other.
He was shy at first, stealing glances when you weren't looking. But time made his shyness disappear. Flirting became his game, playful touches here and there and unexpected hugs wherever he felt like it. You ignored the signs until his confession left you speechless in the middle of the night in Monaco.
"I have something I need to tell you." He said.
It was 2020. Monaco was hot that night. Everyone at the team dinner was buzzing about the upcoming classic Monaco Grand Prix. Like always, after the dinner, Lando offered to walk you back to the hotel where the team was staying – nothing new. You even joked about Carlos doing the same thing.
Like all the other times, you didn't think much about the gesture. It was something he used to do, and in your head, it was just a friend helping the other. After all, Carlos did it from time to time. Why should it be any different with Lando?
"What's up?" You asked, the streetlights shining on his face. "Getting nervous about the race? The car feels amazing, right?"
Lando messed with his hair. Your voice, normally like music to him, made him forget what to say. "Uh, no, not the race."
"Then what is it? Now I'm the one freaking out." You tried to lighten the mood with a laugh. "Did you lose your house key again? You're not staying with me."
He wished you'd just be quiet. "Fuck, Y/N!" He blurted out. "I like you." The words came out fast, just like his orange F1 car. Did you hear him right? When he saw the surprise on your face, he knew you had. "I, uh, I mean more than a friend." He stammered. "Like, a lot. You're always in my head, even in my dreams. All the fucking time. I can't even look at other girls because you're all I see. I just had to tell you. I couldn't keep it in any longer."
You suddenly froze, your heart pounding like a drum solo. Time seemed to slow down, with only the two of you and the warm glow of the streetlights as the real things around. You wanted to speak, but the words simply wouldn't come out.
"Please say something!" Lando begged, his voice shaky. "Anything! Even if you don't like me back, just tell me. But don't let this mess up our friendship!"
It didn't destroy your friendship, but it sent your world spinning. You realized your little crush on the driver was a full-blown fire, and with each passing year, the flames only licked higher. But every time Lando flirted, the same words you had said to him tumbled out: "It's inappropriate."
He hated those words. He'd always argue with you about it. "Come on, I like you and I know you like me too. I know it! Who cares about work? We can keep it quiet. It can be our secret." He always had a solution for every worry, but you remained strong.
You wanted to believe that you could remain strong.
The problem was, your feelings were turning into a rebellion. Keeping them bottled up was a losing battle, and you weren't sure how much longer you could resist the pressure from the driver.
Lando strutted into the paddock beside you, his black clothes and crisp white shirt doing nothing to hide his cocky grin. "Finally figured out why I haven't won a race yet." He announced, his cologne a heady wave in your direction.
You peeked over your sunglasses. "Oh yeah, Sherlock? What's the conclusion?"
He leaned close, his voice a low rumble. "No good luck kiss from you, that's what! Maybe we should fix that? Make it a tradition if it works."
A laugh escaped you. "So it's my fault, huh?"
"Exactly!" He grinned. "And if I lose again without a kiss, everyone's gonna hear about it."
"That's your best shot at flirting?" You teased. "Seriously, Lando, you're terrible."
A playful smirk tugged at his lips. He draped his arm around your shoulder, leading you towards the McLaren hospitality area. "The only girl I flirt with is you, love. Guess you'll have to show me how to improve."
Heat flooded your cheeks, betraying your fake indifference. Lando wasn't an idiot. He knew you felt the same way, a truth as clear as the Miami sunshine.
A booming voice shattered the playful tension. "Whoa there, puppet, keep your hands off of her!"
Carlos emerged behind you, clad in his new Ferrari blues. You turned to see him glaring at Lando, who simply scoffed and moved away, the arm around your shoulder replaced by Carlos's protective arm.
He leaned down, a quick peck on your head followed by a wink aimed at Lando, who rolled his eyes with a playful huff.
"Or what?" Lando challenged.
Carlos pretended to consider, then grinned. "Or I'll run you off the track at the race. And don't even think about getting jealous. It's a bad look on you."
Agree to disagree, you thought. Jealousy did look good on him. The way he tapped his foot impatiently, the way he chewed his lip with a focused intensity – those were the subtle giveaways that made your heart skip a beat.
"Leave him alone, Sainz!" You swatted playfully at Carlos' chest, the contact sending a blush blooming across your cheeks.
"Oh, look who's defending the love bird." He teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You blushed once again. "Shut up." You whispered.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Lando fighting a smile as you continued towards McLaren hospitality. A quick goodbye to Carlos later, you disappeared inside, ready for your daily tasks. Lando watched you go, his gaze lingering long after you were out of sight.
When he finally turned back to his friend, Carlos was waiting, arms crossed, a knowing smirk plastered across his face. "What?"
"Ugh, the both of you." Carlos rolled his eyes. "All this mooning and staring, it's getting pathetic. Just take her out, will you?"
Lando sighed. "I've been trying for years. It's always 'inappropriate.'"
"Well, try harder!" Carlos pressed. "Last thing you need is someone else catching her eye."
Lando's playful demeanor vanished. "What do you mean?" He pressed, a sudden seriousness tightening his features. Carlos simply offered him a pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving Lando with a gnawing sense of unease. "Hey, what do you mean?"
The sprint had been a disaster. It all ended so quickly that it didn't give him enough time to think, no chance to catch Max and the others at the front. To make matters worse, the Stewards imposed a heavy fine of €50,000 for crossing the track while the rave was still ongoing.
Later, back at the hotel, he was torn between feeling exhausted and frustrated. A cold shower did little to wash away the bitter taste of defeat. He pulled on fresh clothes and collapsed onto the bed. Closing his eyes, he focused on the tension leaving his body, hoping for a moment of peace.
A loud ringing sound shattered the silence and startled him out of his daze. He groaned as he searched for his phone, buried somewhere in the crumpled sheets.
Y/n: Hey, Oscar and I are planning to watch a movie and grab some food. Wanna join us? We're in my bedroom.
Lando smile, looking at your text.
Lando: You know I like you. You shouldn't tell me when you have other guys in your bedroom. It breaks my heart.
Although he couldn't see you, he was certain you were rolling your eyes after reading his message.
Y/n: Shut up and get your ass here.
A laugh escaped Lando's lips as he pushed himself out of bed. He stalked over to the mirror, running a hand through his damp curls. With a flick of the switch, the room dropped into darkness, and Lando walked out of his room.
Your room was on a different floor, but soon a familiar knock came at your door. Your heart kicked into a familiar rapid-fire beat as you swung the door open.
"Hi!"
"Hey, beautiful." He cupped your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Osc!" He jumped in your bed and in one smooth motion, he snagged a chip from the bowl you'd set on the nightstand.
"Hey. What do you feel like watching?" He quickly looked through your Netflix library, skipping over the typical romantic comedy options.
"Anything but that mushy stuff." Lando declared, earning a playful jab from you.
"Take your shoes off the bed, Lando!"
He chuckled, kicking off his sneakers. He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze lingering on you for a second too long. You were a black Simpsons shirt and matching sporty shorts, your bare feet resting comfortably on the cool sheets. A small anchor could be seen on your ankle, sparking his imagination about what other hidden treasures lay beneath your clothes.
The spell was broken by a knock on the door. With a quick smile, you ran toward the door, returning moments later with a stack of takeout boxes.
You settled next to Lando on the bed, while Oscar sprawled out at the foot like a contented cat. With the Avengers movie playing softly in the background, you devoured your food, a comfortable silence settling around the three of you.
Two hours passed by quickly as the credits rolled. Oscar groaned and got off the bed. You mimicked his stretch, feeling the pleasant ache of a relaxed evening.
"Looks like someone's having a sleepover!" Oscar teased, pointing a playful finger at Lando. The driver was sprawled across your pillow, a peaceful look on his face.
A soft gasp escaped your lips. "Oh, Lando!" you whispered, torn between amusement and a flicker of panic. He looked undeniably adorable, a mess of soft curls framing his face. You glanced at Oscar, who was already pulling on his sneakers. "We have to wake him up, right?"
Oscar chuckled, a knowing glint in his eyes. "We? Seems pretty comfy to me, Y/N. Let the man enjoy his rest." He started towards the door, but you reached out.
"Wait, where are you going? He can't stay here." Panic bubbled in your chest. The thought of him sleeping in your bed sent shivers down your spine.
"So wake him up!"
Your cheeks flushed crimson. "I… I don't want to wake him." The words came out a soft mumble, barely audible.
Oscar leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Then don't. Trust me, asleep is the only state he'll stay put. Besides, wouldn't you rather wake up to a grateful cuddle buddy in the morning?"He winked, leaving you speechless, alone with the British driver.
Oh my god, you screamed to yourself.
You tiptoed around the room, unsure of your next move. Finally, drawn by a strange magnetism, you found yourself kneeling by the bed.
Lando's serene face was illuminated by the soft bedside lamp. His chest rose and fell gently in sleep, a single black curl escaping the gentle mess of his hair.
An irresistible urge to touch him washed over you. Without thinking about it, your fingers reached out, tentatively brushing against the perfect curl. As if sensing the intrusion, Lando stirred, and his brow furrowed slightly. You quickly retreated to the bathroom, heart pounding as you slammed the door carefully behind you.
Leaning against the door, you let out a shaky breath. You hurriedly changed into pyjamas, suddenly aware of how thin they felt compared to your day clothes. But it was hot, and you hadn't brought anything else.
Peeking through the crack in the door, you peeked out, praying for the best. Relief flooded you when you saw Lando, thankfully still asleep, but now facing the other side of the bed.
You were wondering if that little couch in the corner was worth sleeping on. It looked quite small and uninviting. Sleep on that uncomfortable excuse of furniture, or share the bed with Lando? The answer, realistically, was obvious.
You climbed in, scooting over as far as possible to create a respectable amount of distance from the body next to you. Sleep, thankfully, came quickly. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, or perhaps the unexpected warmth and sense of security that came with having Lando beside you, but you drifted off faster than usual.
Sunlight, snuck into the room, painting stripes across Lando's face. He blinked, momentarily disoriented. Hadn't he closed those curtains last night? He sat up, surprise jolting through him as he realized he wasn't in his own bed.
Even more shocking was the sight beside him. You, cuddle against him, your thin pyjamas offering little to make him look away. One of your legs peeked out from under the discarded sheet, and Lando felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the morning sun.
What in the world? How had he ended up, tangled in your sheets? A quick glance around revealed his phone abandoned on the nightstand. It was still early, but Jon would be expecting him in his room soon. He needed to get out, get cleaned up and get ready for the day. But leaving felt like ripping himself away from something precious.
He stole a glance at you. Your face, relaxed and peaceful, was turned towards him. A stray strand of hair tickled your cheek. Hesitantly, he reached out, tucking it behind your ear. The touch, light as a feather, was enough to stir you awake.
Lando didn't flinch and when you fluttered your eyes open, his face was inches away. A wave of yearning swept through you, a desire for more mornings waking up beside him.
"Did I die and go to heaven last night?" His voice, husky with sleep, sent shivers down your spine.
"You fell asleep." You admitted, your voice barely a whisper. "And I didn't have the heart to wake you up."
"Right." He breathed the word out, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. His hand reached out, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that both surprised and delighted you. A blush crept up your neck as he murmured, "Lucky me." Then, a sigh escaped his lips. "I have to go. Jon will be at my room any minute."
You nodded and smiled, despite the disappointment tugging at your heart. You watched as he hesitately rose, groaning at leaving your bed. His hair was a mess of adorable curls, and his rumpled clothes added a touch of vulnerability that made him look even more adorable.
He grabbed his phone and sneakers and then paused, a playful smirk on his face. "So, about that lucky kiss for good luck?" He teased, a hint of hope lacing his voice. "We already slept together!"
"Go!" You muttered.
"Fine, fine." He chuckled. "See you later, love."
He turned towards the door, and an impulsive urge surged through you. Before you could overthink it, you were out of bed and racing towards him. He reached for the doorknob, but you were faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around.
For a moment, confusion clouded his features, but it quickly melted into surprise as you planted a kiss on his cheek. It was a chaste kiss, lingering just a beat too long to be considered entirely platonic. When you pulled away, his eyes held a mixture of shock and something deeper.
"There's your lucky kiss." You whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "Now go."
Lando stood speechless for a moment, the kiss still tingling on his skin. Then, a slow smile spread across his face "Today is a day full of opportunities." He declared.
With one last lingering look, he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway. You leaned against the wall, your heart pounding against your ribs.
You had never felt more nervous before in a race. At the start, it seemed like Oscar could give Verstappen a run for his money, but then the safety car came out and it felt like you were barely moving until the end of the race, with Lando being P1. It wasn't until the checkered flag waved that you finally exhaled, a shaky breath that escaped with a nervous laugh.
The McLaren hospitality buzzed with excitement. Lando had finally done it. His first F1 victory, a triumph long overdue. You joined the celebrations, a wide smile plastered across your face, not just for the team, but for Lando himself. It was a moment he deserved.
"Great race, Oscar!" You exclaimed as the Australian driver entered the hospitality area and hug you. "You had Red Bull sweating for a while there!"
He chuckled, pulling you into a brief hug. "Thanks, Y/N. I gave it my all, but the real winner tonight is Lando." He winked. "I'm sure your champion will be here any minute, looking for his girl."
You slapped his arm playfully, a blush creeping up your neck. "Don't say that in here!"
"Everybody knows." He whispered back.
As if on cue, Lando appeared. His eyes scanned the room, a triumphant grin splitting his face when they landed on you. You saw as he and Oscar hugged each other and the rest of the team.
He weaved his way through the crowd, a trail of congratulations and backslaps following him, but it was you he was drawn to. Everyone else faded into the background as he reached you, his victory grin melting into a tender smile reserved only for you.
You welcomed him into a hug, a sweet and loving embrace. He buried his face in your neck, the scent of champagne and his signature cologne an intoxicating mix.
"We did it!" He murmured, his voice filled with emotion.
"You did it!" You corrected, pulling back to cup his face. "I'm so proud of you."
Everyone was engaged in their own celebrations as he took your hand. He led you away from the loud crowd, a silent understanding passing between you. As you slipped inside his driver's room, he locked the door behind him, a thrill of nervousness ran through you.
He closed the distance between you, his eyes roaming your face before settling on your lips. With a tender touch, he cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing a seductive path across your lips.
"Please!" He pleaded, his voice low and urgent. "Just this once…" You knew exactly what he craved.
"Lando--" You began.
"Please!" He repeated, his voice laced with a desperation that mirrored your own.
You swallowed the lump in your throat. A part of you, the part that had spent months pushing him away, hesitated. But the other part yearned to give in. You nodded.
He cupped your face in his hands and pressed you against the wall. The next moment, his lips were on yours, the taste of champagne a sweet surprise against yours. The kiss was hungry and desperate. You clung to his fireproof shirt. The world melted away, replaced by the intoxicating sensation of his lips moving against yours. All the reasons you'd held back faded away.
But just as the kiss deepened, a knock on the door jolted you both back to reality. You broke away, gasping for breath.
Lando groaned. "Yeah?" The voice from the other side told him they were expecting him. Lando rolled his eyes. "Just give me a minute."
When you heard the footsteps fade away, you reached for the doorknob, but Lando's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist.
"Stop it, Lando." You whispered.
"Don't!" He pleaded. "You can't tell me you didn't like it. I could feel it, Y/N. Don't deny it."
"I'm not denying it." You admitted your voice barely a whisper. "But you know why this can't happen."
Lando's jaw clenched. "It's NOT inappropriate! Look," he said, his voice softer now, "I waited this long for my first win. I can wait for you, just as long."
He cupped your jaw and before you could react, he leaned in and kissed the corner of your lips. He unlocked the door in one swift motion and stepped out, leaving you breathless.
You'd politely declined Lando's after-party invitation at the strip club near the hotel. You weren't the nightclub type, and deep down, Lando knew that. You assured him that you hadn't rejected it because of the kiss, but the way the call ended, left a pit in your stomach.
"He's mad! I know it." You mumbled to Oscar, who sat beside you at the hotel bar. The rest of the team was split between a game of darts in the back and loud conversations over drinks by the pool. "He didn't say 'bye, love' or 'see you later, beautiful', we just said bye."
Oscar facepalmed as he looked at his drunk best friend rambling about their mutual friend who was likely doing the same thing at the party.
"You're his friend, Y/N, not his girlfriend." He teased, sending a blush creeping up your cheeks. You stammered a reply, but the words got tangled up in your throat. "He's probably getting lucky tonight." He continued. "Deserves it after that win."
The implication hit you like a punch to the gut. "Lucky? You think he'll...?"
A mischievous glint danced in Oscar's eyes. "Oh, absolutely."
You downed the last of your drink, feeling a hollowness in your chest. "Good for him." You mumbled, the words lacking conviction.
Oscar groaned, frustration etching lines on his forehead. "Jesus, Y/N! The only girl he wants to get lucky with is you. Stop playing these mind games and making yourselves miserable!"
You rested your head on your hand, a wave of emotions crashing over you. "Oscar," You confessed, looking him straight in the eye. "I really like him. Like, never liked anyone this way before."
A slow smile spread across his face. "Then do something about it."
Lando was having the best time of his life, celebrating his first win with his friends. He felt his chest vibrate with every beat of the bass, as he laughed with his friends. Despite the fun he was having, he was also experiencing a dull ache. Your absence stood out.
He'd downed a few too many drinks to drown the disappointment steaming inside. When you declined the club invitation, his frustration boiled over into a harsh goodbye, which he quickly regretted.
"Did you see who just walked in?" Max shouted into his ear over the loud music.
"What?" Max pointed towards the entrance, causing a frown to appear on Lando's forehead.
Your arrival sent a jolt through him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and his earlier frustration vanished as a smile stretched across his face.
"Go get your girl, champ!" Max patted his shoulder with a wink.
Lando needed no further encouragement. He navigated his way through the crowd, his eyes fixed on you.
You scanned the room with a hint of apprehension. Even in your tipsy state, a voice of reason whispered in your head, questioning this impulsive move.
Just as you turned to leave, a warm hand closed around your wrist. You didn't need to see his face to know who it was. His familiar touch sent a familiar spark across your skin.
He wore a playful smirk, but his eyes held a hint of concern. "I thought you weren't coming."
You tried to appear casual, but your voice betrayed you. "I wasn't."
"How much did you have to drink?" He asked you, and you furrowed your eyebrows. How did he know what you had been doing? You stuttered in response, unsure of what to say. "Did Oscar let you come here drunk?"
"I'm not drunk! And how do you know I've been drinking?"
"Then why the sudden change of heart?" His gaze softened, searching your face. "And Oscar's been keeping me updated."
"Why doe--"
"Why are you here, Y/n?" He asked you.
You felt your face getting hot as you looked around the club, the among of bodies suddenly overwhelming. "I, uh..." You cleared your throat, the words catching in your tight throat. "I need a drink."
As you made your way towards the bar, Lando followed closely behind. You approached the counter and asked the bartender for a drink. He nodded and began to mix your order. Lando stood by your side, looking a you.
"How did you get here? Does Oscar know?" The concern in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.
You nodded and then drank the entire drink that was placed in front of you all at once. "Yes. He called me an Uber and told the guy to drop me here." Lando looked surprised as he noticed the empty glass in your hand. You hadn't intended to drink it so quickly, but your nerves got the best of you.
"Whoa, slow down there."
"I thought you wanted to celebrate!" You said to him as the bartender handed you another drink. You took it and walked away. Lando's face was adorned with a smile, but worry still lingered in his mind. Despite that, there was a sense of happiness as the night was finally complete.
You leaned heavily against Lando, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, as the elevator ride made you feel dizzy. He, somehow, seemed frustratingly sober.
"Hey," He chuckled, his voice warm despite the coolness of the metal walls. You managed a watery smile, lifting a hand to touch his cheek. "What are you thinking about?"
"Dogs." You mumbled. "Do you think they dream about bones?"
Lando's laugh filled the small space. "Maybe. I don't know beautiful."
"Do you think I'm beautiful?" You blurted out, smiling innocently.
He stopped in front of your room, his gaze holding yours. The concern that had flickered in his eyes earlier was gone, replaced by something more intense. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen." A giggle erupted from your lips. Lando reacted instinctively, clapping a hand over your mouth. It was late, and the last thing they needed was a noise complaint. "Shh." He murmured. "Gotta be quiet, love."
You nodded. "Okay!"
"Where's your key?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. You shrugged, the simple action requiring more effort than you cared to admit.
"Lando?" You whined. "Sleepy..."
He cursed under his breath, scanning the empty hallway. Walking up to the front desk for a key wasn't exactly his ideal scenario.
"Alright, you're coming with me." He said gently, scooping you up in his arms. A sleepy protest tumbled from your lips, but you clung to him instinctively as he carried you back towards the elevator.
"Can we go to the beach?" You mumbled as the doors closed.
"The beach will be there in the morning." He replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "It's almost five am."
A giggle escaped you. "Naked swim?"
He cleared his throat, the sound a little rough. You'd been a delightful firecracker all night, and he was struggling to keep his cool. "The shower's a much better option right now."
The elevator doors slid open, and with a sigh, he carried you out, your head chilling against his shoulder. He fumbled with his keycard, finally pushing the door open with his foot.
In the room, he gently laid you on the bed, the soft sheets making you relax and close your eyes.
For a moment, he stood there, watching you. The urge to pull you close, to feel your warmth against him, was killing him. But your vulnerability state held him back.
"Hey, love?" He said softly, his voice laced with concern. "Can I take off your shoes?"
You mumbled something incomprehensible but managed a weak nod. He carefully removed your heels, his fingers brushing against your ankle for a fleeting moment that sent a jolt through him.
"Maybe a shower would be good." He suggested, his voice gruff. "You'll sleep better."
"With you?" She asked him, excited.
Lando, still feeling the effects of alcohol, ran his fingers through his hair, feeling hot.
"You can't imagine how much I want to say yes... But no, not tonight." You pouted. Grabbing your hands, he pulled you up. "Ask me again tomorrow!"
He gently led you to the bathroom and helped you sit down. He waited for the water to warm up, and when it was ready, he turned around. Suddenly, Lando's breath caught in his throat.
Without him realising, you had taken off your clothes. You stood bathed in the soft glow, vulnerability etched on your face, wearing only your black lace lingerie.
He tore his gaze from you. His heart beat a frantic rhythm against his ribs, mimicking the feel of the alcohol in his veins. Only if you weren't drunk...
"Are you okay?" Your voice was so gentle and innocent, nothing like it normally sounded. You reached out and touched his back. He flinched the innocent gesture a powerful trigger for his already steaming desire.
"Y/N, please!" He pleaded. "If you keep touching me..." The sentence trailed off, the implication hanging heavy in the air. The more he looked at you, the more his willpower crumbled. Shame washed over him. "Love, just take a shower. You need to sober up." He gestured to a pile of clothes on the counter. "There are some of mine there. I'll be outside when you're done."
You stayed in the shower for a while, the hot water feeling good against your skin. You weren't completely sober, the world still held a gentle sway, but the edge of drunkenness had dimmed.
Stepping out, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel Lando had left out.
As you dried your hair, you caught your reflection in the mirror. Even in the state of mind you were, you knew you were going to regret it in the morning. You put on the clothes he had left you and shoved the feeling down.
Lando, scrolling through his phone on the bed, looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. Relief washed over him as he saw you wrapped in his clothes.
"Feeling better?" He asked. You offered a small nod, leaning weakly against the doorframe. The playful energy that had fueled you earlier had dimmed, replaced by exhaustion. "Good!" He said, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sleepy?" You simply nodded again. He cleared his throat, the silence growing heavy in the room. "So... Are you comfortable sharing the bed, or...?"
"It's fine." You mumbled. A playful glint flickered in your eyes. "And I promise I won't, uh, bite."
Lando chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Don't get me wrong, love," He said, his voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "You could do whatever you wanted most nights, believe me. But not tonight."
He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, inviting you to join him, an unspoken tension lingering in the air.
You waddled across the room, the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely on your body. Climbing onto the bed, you scooted closer to him, a nervous feeling running through you, despite the lingering effects of the alcohol still dancing through your veins.
"Can we at least...?" You trailed off, your voice barely a whisper. "You know... a goodnight kiss?
"You're a menace when you're drunk, you know that?" He teased, a playful sparkle in his eyes.
You batted your eyelashes in a way you knew usually worked. He sighed, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, alright!" He complied. "But on the cheek. Lips are off-limits tonight."
You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As he leaned in, the faint scent of his cologne filled your senses. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your spine.
"Goodnight, Y/N!" He murmured, his voice sending a flutter to your heart. "Hope you'll remember this tomorrow morning."
"Goodnight, race winner." You replied, a hint of sleepiness in your voice.
Sunlight pierced through the blinds, finding your eyelids and forcing them open with a groan. Your head felt like a maraca that had been shaken all night, and your mouth tasted like a desert. Sitting up cautiously, you winced at the throbbing in the back of your head.
Memories and fragments started to come back. The kiss, the club, the dancing, Lando's strong arm around you... and then... a complete blank. Panic started to rise in your chest. What had you done? Had you said something stupid or done something worse?
The bedroom door creaked open and Lando entered, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He looked like a vision with his rumpled hair and a smile breaking out on his face as soon as he saw you awake.
"Good morning, sunshine!" He said, his voice sounding awful to your pounding head.
"Don't yell!" You mumbled. "Water?"
He chuckled, handing you a bottle of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes. You took a grateful sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat.
"Do you remember anything from last night?" He asked you, sitting on the edge of the bed, his concern evident in his eyes.
You took a deep breath. "I remember... bits and pieces." You admitted, shame creeping up your cheeks. "Lando, I am sorry if I did something or said something wrong... I must have been awful. I was very, very drunk."
He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Honestly? I wish you felt that comfortable around me all the time." Lando reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch sent a jolt through you. "You know how much I like you... Y/n, I'm in love with you."
Your heart hammered against your ribs at his confession. A real and pure confession.
"Lando--" You breathed, your voice thick with emotion.
He took your hand in his, his eyes filled with a gentle understanding. "I know..." He said, his voice a soothing balm. "Just know that I'll wait for you. However long it takes." He squeezed your hand.
Tears welled up in your eyes. The years of running, of pushing him away, suddenly seemed pointless. All you wanted was to be here, with him.
Leaning forward, you met his gaze. Then, you cupped his face gently and placed a soft, sweet kiss on his lips. It was a kiss filled with apology and relief.
"I'm tired of running." You whispered against his lips. "I'm in love with you too. I've always have."
Lando couldn't help but grin as you hugged him. First, the win, then the kiss and now the girl of his dreams confessing her feelings. Yeah, you could definitely say it was a very good day for Lando No Wins.
"I love you, Y/n." You smiled, a genuine, heart-melting smile.
"I love you too, Lando." You knew, at that moment, hugging the person you had been in love with for years, that you were finally home.
#lando norris#lando x reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 x reader#ln4 fic#lando norris imagine
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DROP THE ALBUM!ㅤ⊹ㅤPSH SMAU
PROLOGUE the breakup and afterwards
note i lied this did not come out at 330 im impatient and uhh he kinda did u dirty i apologize but yn is maybe a little dramatic IDK
“i think we should break up, yn,”
you blink, lifting your head up from where it was resting on his chest. your sudden movement knocks the laptop off of sunghoon’s lap, the movie you were watching continuing to play in the background as you stare at him.
“what? wait—are you serious?”
he sighs, running a hair through his messy hair, “yeah, i am,”
“that’s so random. we’re literally cuddling in your bed right now, sunghoon,”
you shouldn’t be getting angry with him, if he wants to break up then he’s allowed to—even if it hurts you more than anything. it just doesn’t make any sense as to why he wants to.
you can’t wrap your head around it, as far you know—or knew—you were perfectly fine. you’ve been together for three years, so obviously you’ve fought but it’s not like they were big fights. everything in your relationship was good. at least you thought it was, sunghoon didn’t apparently.
“i don’t know... i was just thinking, you know?”
you stare at him blankly because no, you didn’t know. you don’t get what’s going on at all.
you can see discomfort makes its way onto sunghoon’s face, his hand coming up to rub his neck awkwardly, “we should take a break,”
“a break or break up?” you ask, “they’re different things,”
you fully move away from him, pulling your legs from out of the covers, sitting as far away from him as you can. you stare at the floor as you wait for his response. he’s silent for too long and you can feel your heart sink to your stomach.
“break up, i guess. we can still be friends, though,” he reaches forward to grab your hand but you pull away, “i don’t want to lose you, yn,”
there’s a lot of things you want to say to say to him; that you can’t be friends, that he’s stupid for thinking that you would be fine with it. you want to tell him that you’re mad at him beyond belief for doing this out of nowhere. he could’ve at least broken up with you when you weren’t laying in his bed.
you don’t say any of these things, though. instead you nod, giving him a forced smile, “okay. if that’s what you want,”
“i’m really—”
you interrupt him before he can give you that dreaded apology, “i’m gonna go, i probably shouldn’t stay the night like we planned,”
you crawl out of bed, your feet landing on his carpeted floor. your back is to him and you hope and pray that he can’t hear the sharp breath slip from your mouth, keeping yourself from bursting out sobbing. you blink quickly, forcing your tears away and move around his room to grab your things.
“you don’t have to leave, it’s late,”
“it’s fine, hoon,” it’s not fine, “night,”
“okay.. text me when you get home?”
“yeah, sure.”
sunghoon is an idiot.
he's an idiot that you’re still friends with.
it’s been five months since the breakup and you’re still friends. you don’t want to be friends, but your desire to keep him in your life overpowers that. giselle and winter have both been telling you to move on, to cut him out of your life.
every single one of your friends can see how awful this is for you, especially with sunghoon still acting like he’s your boyfriend. it’s like nothing has changed between you two if you ignore the fact that you aren’t officially together anymore.
he even goes as far as to tell you about girls that he finds attractive. does he not know not to tell you stuff like? he doesn’t. he doesn’t get how horrible and heartbreaking it is for you to hear. having to sit there and hear him call other girls pretty is worse than anything you’ve ever had to experience, you think.
so after urging from both giselle and winter, you ghost him on the sixth month after your breakup. you don’t go to any of your previously planned hangouts (you give him some half-assed excuse about being ‘too busy’ when really you were just staying home and eating ice cream), you stop responding to his messages and eventually he stops sending them.
and you write about it.
you’ve written songs about him before, as embarrassing as it is to admit, but it’s how you express your feelings. the only difference is that they were love songs; songs about you pining over the boy, how you felt during your relationship, all of the good things about him. you’ve never written anything bad, not even during your first big argument.
you admittedly feel better after you’ve written everything down, but you also feel.. guilty. it’s like you’re making it a bigger deal than it is. it’s not like he cheated on you or neglected you or whatever other awful thing other songwriters have written about. he just broke up with you and tried to stay friends.
you eventually get over that guilt, thankfully. you know that you’re allowed to be upset and it’s not like he’s ever going to hear it. you’re sure he’s forgotten all about you already. maybe he even has a new girlfriend.
you try not to throw up at that thought.
you end up making a demo, send it to your agency, and it gets produced. after a month of promotion and teasers, it releases on the ninth of april. exactly one year after your break up. it blows up, much to your surprise—you weren’t necessarily a big artist but you weren’t super small, having around 840k monthly listeners but you weren’t expecting to make the billboard hot 100.
honestly, you should’ve expected sunghoon to find out about the song, but you weren’t. and needless to say, you were absolutely horrified when he sent you a message for the first time in half a year.
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#ㅤ⠀ ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა ♡ ㅤ⠀#enhypen x reader#park sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x reader#enhypen smau#sunghoon smau#sunghoon fluff#enhypen x you#enhypen x y/n#enhypen fluff#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon x you#sunghoon x y/n#enha x reader#enha x you#enha x y/n#enha fluff#enhypen fake texts#enha fake texts#enhypen texts#sunghoon fake texts#sunghoon texts#enha smau#enhypen social media au#sunghoon social media au#park sunghoon social media au
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Redecorating Your Heart
Melissa Schemmenti x reader
Fluff mostly
Summary: you begin to make changes to Melissa's home, but one year you have a different change in mind
The first time it wasn't as obvious. It was a slight change. You and Melissa had been dating two years prior before she really asked you to just move in. After all, you were never at your apartment.
The first thing you had to change was her couch situation. You understood it and told her multiple times if you moved in, it would be coming off within your first week. She would laugh it off like you were joking, she really believed you were.
But when you moved in, you had a plan. You slowly unfolded parts, knowing that by Friday she'd be so swamped she wouldn't even notice it. And you were right. By Friday she didn't. It took Barbra coming over Monday to realize it.
"Melissa Ann, have you finally come to your senses about your couch?" The older woman beamed as she sat down, her hands running over the soft fabric. "I must say I'm impressed!"
And that's when Melissa looked at you. You were in the kitchen pouring the two wine glasses and grabbing yourself a drink with whiskey.
You had this smile on your face. One she couldn't be mad at, so she sighed in defeat against you. "It was y/n's idea. She has been trying to get it off for awhile now.
That's when you came over glasses in hand and a big, wide smile on. "I won't try and alter anything else...." you trailed off. Both woman gave you a disbelieving look and you could only shrug and hand over their drinks.
You made yourself comfortable next to Melissa as the two talked about anything they needed to. And you would listen, you would give your opinion if asked, or you would sit there and just really listen. Letting your girlfriend's voice carry you off into sleep.
That night though, you stayed up and traced patterns on her thighs as they talked. Following your own finger, you didn't pay much attention to the world around you.
So lost in thought about what she might say to you once Barb leaves. Would she be really mad, or would she let this one go? What if she makes you put it back on yourself? What if she enjoys it off?
There were too many questions that you thought of, and both woman could see it.
"Is she listening?" Barb asked Melissa. Trying not to change her tone to bring you back. Melissa glance to you, and easily shook her head. "You really gonna let her keep the wrapping off?"
Melissa sighed, "honestly? Yeah...if it makes her happy I'm willing to make such a small altering to the house. It is nice fabric, so I'm not really mad. The smile she had when you pointed it out was worth it." She explained simply. It was the truth. If this made you happy, then she saw no harm.
"Melissa Schemmenti, if I didn't know any better I would say you're in love." Barb teased before finishing her glass.
The red head shook her head and finished hers as well. Your drink had been nothing but ice for awhile now. Melissa assumed that's why you were so quiet, you made your drink just a bit to strong.
But once you got up to clean up their glasses, you seemed so fine. Like there wasn't a drop of alcohol in your system. Meanwhile she walked Barbra out.
"She's a sweet one, Melissa. She's good for you and you know it." The friend gave a reassuring hug before walking out to her car.
Once Barb pulled off, Melissa found her way back to you. Wrapping her arms around your waist as you poured her another glass and made yourself another drink.
"Didn't drink too much in that first one?" She teased you quietly, squeezing you before pulling away.
You turned slowly and handed over the glass, "you out of everyone should know I know how to hold my liquor." You bite back with a playful smile. "Mm plus, you and Barb were talking about your field trip that's at the end of the year. What am I to do in a house all alone for a night?" You feigned you boredom.
~
You did know what you were doing that night. You had six months to plan it. After the couch, you had to make her believe you truly weren't going to change anything else....but her bathrooms....
They weren't horrible, but you saw a vision. From the strange orange to a modern grey and marble. And originally it was just going to be the downstairs, but then she had mentioned it just once.
"One day, when I finally have time, I'm going to fix that upstairs bathroom. It's just not in anymore." Her words that you took and ran a mile with it. That's how you got to here.
With the help of your neighbors, who you had met moving in, you had a place to store all the new cabinets.
"And you're sure you'll be ok tonight?" Melissa had her bags by the door as you handed her her purse. "I seriously can have Barb watch my class."
You shook your head and laughed. "Mel, you have been talking about this since school basically started. I will be ok. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, ok?"
"You can call me if you need anything, I know a guy for almost everything." She reminded you. Staring at you with adoration before reaching out to cup you cheek. "I...." she began and your heart skipped a beat instantly.
You knew she struggled with saying the big word. After her last, she explained how she is still healing but is ready to get out there again.
A understanding smile crept onto your lips. "I know," you whispered nodding slightly. "Go! Have fun sleeping over in a museum." You pushed her hand a way carefully. Leaning in to kiss her once on the lips, and a bunch all over.
She laughed at your antics. "Alrighty, I'll get out of your house. But seriously hun, if you need anything don't be afraid to call."
You bowed and helped her load the car. Giving her one last kiss before she pulled out. You watched her till she turned the corner, and your sweet smile turned devilish in seconds flat.
You bolted back in and wasted no time setting up your music and getting started.
To start, you wanted to get out all the old furniture and get it to the garage. Opening it so you had a nice breeze flowing through the entire house (obviously turning off the air to not rack up the bill).
By eleven, you had most of the street helping you out. The guys building outside as everyone else worked inside. Painting or moving heavier pieces.
It was very neighbor like, and you couldn't help but feel more welcomed than ever within their community.
Then by two, you had several pizza's delivered and sent someone to get drinks. Everyone sitting around in the backyard, enjoying the moment.
"So, what made you decide to do both bathrooms?" Ned, he lived three houses to the right, asked.
His wife, Stephany coming out and sitting next to you. "And why haven't we ever been in your house? It's beautiful."
You shrugged a bit. "Well technically, it's Melissa's house. I moved in with her six months ago. But she complained about the bathrooms just once and I had already planned to redo them. I hated the orange. And she probably had a guy to do this, but I had a vision that I think she'll like. And it looks so much cleaner."
They all agreed with it, especially after they saw your sketches from several angles for each bathroom.
"And you didn't ask her to do this, did you? Just like with the plastic in the couch?" Beth smirked as she put her slice. She was the first one you really met and talked to about your future plans for the house.
You shook your head and everyone laughed. "In my world, it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission. She was never going to take that plastic off and I couldn't stand it either. And I know she can't stay mad at me forever," you stated. A part of you knew that was mostly true, she's never gone over a week not talking to you.
"Well, your plans are very nice and with the speed we're all moving at, once the paint dries we'll be down before nine. And when does she get home?" Hunter questioned, his leg fidgeting under the warm sun. "Seeing as it's a surprise?"
"She's home tomorrow afternoon. The school is doing an overnight field trip so it was perfectly planned out. It's also why I could give everyone a set date to take off. Which I thank you all for helping me with this project. I truly couldn't have gotten even an eight of this all done on my own." Everyone raised their glass and talked a little more.
Eventually, by nine, everything was finished. The light fixtures were switched out, water was running smoothly through all faucets, and you were pleased.
Now it was just you laying on the floor after a long day of work. You had just sent out another thank you to everyone who helped. That's when your phone began to ring. Melissa's contact popping up.
"Well look who isn't dead," she spoke so quietly. You assumed all the kids were asleep and it was just her awake in another room. Somewhere where she could keep her eyes on her little eagles. "I haven't heard from you all day..."
"I've been a very busy bee today. But you have my full, undivided attention. How was your field trip?" You hummed your interest.
And you listened to every word she said to you. Never moving from your spot or focusing on anything else. It was just time to talk to your girlfriend.
Although, it was two different girlfriends once she got home. You were upstairs in the shower, enjoying the feeling of the new shower head. It was you in your thoughts until you felt hands sneak around your waist.
You jumped, and screamed, but laughed it off once you spun to see your beauty. "Mel!" You beamed so wide. "You have got to feel this new shower head!" You made quick work to put her back under the water. Watching her face contort, then relaxing.
"And I see you've redone the bathrooms?" She moved her head to the side, letting the water massage her neck.
You couldn't help yourself when you placed kisses over her exposed skin. "Do you like it?" You asked in between. Your touch being featherlight as you ran your hands over her body.
She hummed with a knowing smile, "you keep redoing my house without asking...." she tried to sound mad.
"But aren't I good at it?" You had a lewd undertone. "Admit it Mel..."
You could almost hear her mental fight to keep her ground, but that undertone had her ready to cave. She had to say though...you knew how to remodel a room. "Fine..." she felt your smile grow on her and she swore to never forget that feeling.
~
You lived with her for a year now, been dating for three. Today you had shown up to Abbott and it was almost summer again. And the rumors were that this was supposed to be the hottest summer on record.
It already was, and you had spent it very wisely. You had done a little summer shopping and tanning before the real summer.
"Hello sunshine!" You skipped into the teachers lounge. Catching everyone by surprise, but Melissa and Barb smiled at you and the lunch you brought them. "Here is your lunch! The weather is beautiful outside!" You took the seat next to Melissa, placing a kiss to her cheek.
"Now what did you do? What new alter did you make to our house?" Melissa laughed, really joking but you didn't laugh or fake being hurt. "Oh my, seriously now what? What am I going to come home and find?"
You looked to Barb for a second, hoping she would give any sign on Melissa's mood, then back to her. "Your backyard....was very bland. Empty. There was so much space and it's the hottest summer. You've been busy all week finishing up school and I figured come summer you would love to relax. And we don't have any trips planned, and it'd be a great way to know your neighbors-,"
"The same neighbors you let in to redo the bathrooms?" She quirked an eye brow at you.
"Yes those ones! They've been dying to meet you ever since the bathrooms." You strayed from the main point. "But! Back to my new thing that I have to tell you before you see since it was a bit more major."
"Did you redo the kitchen?!" She gasped, worried for her cookings future. Feeling relieved when your head shook.
"Although that wouldn't be bad! It could use a new coloring...the whole downstairs could use a makeover..." once again you side tracked, going quiet as your vision started planning itself.
Melissa knew that look now, she'd be a fool to miss it three times now. "You leave the downstairs alone, ya' hear? Now what is this new addition?"
You beamed at the mention and leaned in close to her ear. The room assumed it was something so bad as Melissa put her head in her hands but you had a wide, toothy grin still.
"It'll be fun! We can sit by the side and get some sun. Itll give us a reason to have people over more as well, you'll have more mouths to feed. Which means you'll get to cook more." You began to list out the pros.
Melissa rolled her head to look at Barb, who just laughed at her friends reaction. "And what was the alter that has been made?" Barb looked to you, curious to know herself.
"She got a pool," Melissa huffed. "How did you even get it approved? Let alone the money?" She didn't know how to feel about this anymore.
"Well, I talked to the Stephany about who I should talk to and she said to find someone in the committee hall who would know about all that. Once that was sorted it out it was a matter of numbers. And while you were busy being an amazing teacher, I published another book. The first week of selling I managed to afford it." The smile that never left your face as you talked about your accomplishment made her feel warm.
She couldn't be mad. She knew she couldn't be. Just looking at you and she couldn't. She knew it was dangerous, but you also never did anything to make her have to be.
"Do you have any pictures? How'd you even hide that much construction?" She sighed, sitting up and folding her arms.
Barb looked taken aback by how calm the woman was. She knew how much Melissa hated people changing her space, but here you are. Making home renovations without a care in the world. And how the red head watched you with such intent as you showed it off. It was beautiful to say the least. You were what her friend needed more than anything.
"It'll be an amazing summer!" You got giddy at the thought of the next three months. "And, so you really can't be mad, I also added a little kitchen area. So you can cook outside and I can watch you while enjoying the sun. We'll be the talk of the neighbor hood."
Melissa laughed and shook her head. "I guess you weighed your pros over your cons heavily, haven't you?" You nodded proudly. "Well then I guess we have to put it to use soon. We'll have a book premier party for you. Since you live in secret from me." She teased.
"Oh Melli, you know I could never live in secret from you. I only work in secret, it's when I do my best work." She kissed her cheek before standing up. "I have to go though, I have shopping to do."
Barb and Melissa bid you goodbyes, watching you skip out into the soon-to-be summer day. "You're in love," Barb laughed with so much joy.
"I'm in love," Melissa confessed. "A pool?"
"Melissa let someone get a pool?" Ava came in, a knowing look on her face. "Gonna be a hot summer. She's gonna be in a bikini most of the time." Ave painted the picture, getting a look from Melissa. "I'm just saying. You're gonna definetly have a fun summer." She pointed with a head bob. "Does that mean you'll be havin' pool parties with your famous cooking?"
That caught everyone's attention a bit more. "If she plans one and lets me invite anyone, then I'll consider." She put out, "but that doesn't mean a yes."
Ava stood with a shinning smile, "that's all I need to hear!" She left the lounge satisfied.
Meanwhile everyone else took the chance to make small jabs at Melissa for actually being a softy. But it was worth it once she came home.
You laid in the back on a big heart floaty in a casual white two piece. You were spread out and enjoying the sun that was shining brightly.
Melissa thought you looked so peaceful. And she hated to admit it again, the backyard looked nice with the addition.
She figured, it's been a long day, joining you couldn't hurt. So she, without alarming you she was home, went to change into a swimsuit as well. Realizing this would be the first time you see her in one. It made her nerves shake a bit, but you've seen her naked...a swimsuit isn't any different, right?
She carefully got in, but before she could scare you, you spoke. "Took you long enough to change." You rolled onto your stomach and opened your eyes. Your lips softly curling up. "The next alter I make I'll let you in on it, promise." You hummed.
Melissa shook her head as she rested on the side of your floaty. "Don't. I like when you talk about them. You always have a different happiness radiating off of you. You take pride in your work. It's one of the things I love about you." She spoke so smoothly.
The words didn't click at first for you, truly you didn't think them twice till she said 'love'. "Really? You don't hate that I'm slowly taking over your house and altering it?"
Melissa chuckled, "of course not, hun. If I did I would've expressed my anger for it. But because I love you I'm willing to accept these changes. Plus you make them look nice, so I can't complain." She shrugged, but laughed when you started kissing all over her face.
"Oh! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you!" You repeated with pure joy as you couldn't stop laughing and kissing her face. "You don't know how pleased I am to hear those words!"
Melissa laughed at your antics again, "if I knew you would react like this I would've realized sooner."
"Oh God, Melissa! I've been in love with you since the first date, you were just so wonderful the first night that I knew I wanted to do right. I want to be with you forever, and I will die on that hill." You confided. Knowing you could go on explaining how much you loved her.
This time, she leaned to you. Kissing you passionately as she could. "It's a good hill to die on," she cockily mumbled. To which you pushed her off your floaty. "But are there any more surprises you have for me?"
You pretended to think, "we're going to Italy the day you get off for a week and a half. As our first vacation together." You played it down, getting pushed off your floaty now. "I thought it would've been good!"
~
It had been another year. You and Melissa had just celebrated three years, and she joked you would find something in the home to change now that it's been awhile.
She was right, which she wasn't surprised about, but was shocked with how big it was. She had come home from work to cars all down the street and the front door opened.
When she walked in, she was shocked to see her cousin that lived close by in the living room. It was an unexpected sight but she came back to reality when he hugged her.
"Is it really that much of a shock I'm here?" He joked, especially with how hesitant Melissa was to hug back.
"Where's...what?" She looked all around. Vinny finding her reaction hilarious.
That's when you came and hugged her from behind, the force you had pushing you both forward. "You're home!" You cheered. "You can't leave me for a week ever again!"
"You were allowed to come with!" She laughed. "But what is all this? Why is my cousin here?"
You looked behind her at Vinny, acting confused. "Your cousin is here?! I finally get to meet another of the Schemmenti's!" You went and hugged him like you w never met. Turning back to Melissa with a smile after, "I have a surprise for you."
"Of course you do," she shook her head with a sigh. "What is it this time?"
"The upstairs and basement." You came right out with it. Her mouth opened to say something, "before you say anything. Look first. Start with upstairs and then go down."
And you stood still as she did go upstairs. When she came down she had an unreadable look but was out of her work clothes. She walked down, this time you followed.
The basement you designed specifically for her. It was dim lit with a fancy poker table with chairs surrounding it. Over was a mini bar with a wine storage all across the wall. It was a nice wood flooring. A small lounge section on the other side.
Melissa, flicked the lights on and nearly had a heart attack. Her family was all in the basement with smiles. She turned to you, tears brimming her eyes as she saw relatives she hadn't seen in ages.
"What is all this?" She whispered, so stunned that you could pull this off. You weren't even introduced to her family yet.
You shrugged, "you worked extremely hard this year with two grades. I figured that after a long year of late nights and early mornings, you could use something good. Soo, I did a little sleuthing and found Vinny, who lived in the city. He helped me, after having to really prove that I was your girlfriend, get the rest of your family in. That's why I hadn't made any alters to the house. I wanted to go big and give you a surprise."
She hugged you tightly, "you're beyond amazing hun." She cried before going to greet everyone.
You watched from afar, not wanting to intervene into her moment. You were about to slip away, until Vinny appeared behind you. "Nah, you're all apart of this family. No matter what happens, nobody's ever gone this far for her. You must really love her." He pushed you towards the group.
Your cheeks became warm, "you have no idea." Was all you got out before Melissa grabbed your hand.
She stood next to you while holding your arm, "everyone, I wish I got to do the introduction, but this is Y/n, my girlfriend of three years." She beamed proudly and shoved you into the group. Laughing as you got bombarded with hugs and kisses to your cheek.
Later, everyone was in the kitchen cooking while laughter filled the air. Meanwhile you sat back and let Nana tell her all the stories of Melissa she could think of.
"So, three years is a long time to keep someone like her a secret." Rocco mentioned, glancing up to his cousin. "I mean I get a text from Vinny saying she's redoing the upstairs and downstairs while you're gone, then poof! She's on the couch making Nana laugh. Just saying if I was you, I would've been showing her off easily."
Melissa shook her head at the comment, "yous just mad I have a keeper that you can't get to again." She poked back. A smirk on her lips as she switch to look at you and Nana. "It's been awhile since Nana has ever welcomed anyone like this..."
Vinny came over with the bowl of uncooked noodles. "It's cause she cares for your happiness. Y/n. I wouldn't know anyone who would fly everyone in."
"She paid for everyone?" Melissa furrowed her brows, now focusing on you and Nana.
"Told you she cared." Vinny's voice faded back as Melissa thought deeply. She had no clue what you were talking about, but you looked overjoy at whatever answer you were given.
She whipped her hands off and pulled off her apron. Walking over carefully to not alarm you both but to still hear.
"...I promise." You swore, turning to look at your girlfriend. You wore a goofy smile that couldn't be shaken. "Melli!" You cheered.
"Can I talk to you for a sec hun?" She offered her hand. Pleased when you took it and followed her out back, away from all ears. "You flew everyone out?"
"I needed help." You said as if there wasn't people closer to call. "I don't see what the big deal is."
Melissa squinted her eyes at you. "What are you up to?" She raised the question, which only got her a toothy grin in answer. "Whatever it is, it better not be the kitchen."
"When we're married and you can't escape me I'll do the kitchen." You playfully mentioned. Laughing at how her eyes widened a bit at the mention. You walked inside after placing a caring kiss to her cheek, rejoining her family and helping out.
Melissa stood and watched, her cheeks flushed, and her heart pounding. You wanted to marry her?
~
You had this smile you couldn't wipe as you waltzed into Abbott. You almost glowed with how excited you were to see your girlfriend of four years. And four was your luckiest of numbers, so it had to be this summer.
"Nope. Another year without an alter to the house. So this year has to be bigger than last year and I'm thinking it's the kitchen she's after next." Melissa's voice rang in the room, clearly you were already a topic.
Once you turned the corner, Melissa sighed. "Oh you know you're excited to see me!" You joked as you plopped into her lap, arms naturally around her neck. "I have wonderful news for you!"
She looked to Barb, and she just smiled and sipped her coffee. It was a reaction that was all to familiar. She knew something Melissa didn't.
"Is that your reason for showing up?" Melissa pinched your thigh playfully. Watching your smile drop into a fake frown.
You let out a little sigh, "I'd come here to see your beautiful face any day. With or without amazing news. But you'll like it. When was the last time you went to Italy anyways?" You causally let out, hoping she wouldn't notice it at first.
But Melissa hung on to every word you've said for the past four years. "Italy?" She whispered with furrowed brows. "You're taking me to Italy? Why? How? When?"
"Well! I'm glad you're already along for the ride! Since your last day happens to be today, our plane leaves at seven tonight. I figured you would want to start your summer off right." You explained. An award winning smile for best girlfriend plastered on your face.
Melissa would've argued with you, saying that you can't plan a trip so short notice and give her no time for any proper packing.
"I can see it on your face, most of your basics are already together, I've packed your makeup the way you like, the only thing is clothes. Now if we had it my way...." you smirked down at her. Watching a subtle blush wash her cheeks. "But unfortunately we can't, so we're going shopping once you're done."
She knew there was no out. You already had it all planned and she knew it. "I'm done in an hour..." she whispered.
Melissa stared at you in wonder. Not knowing what she did to deserve you and your gifts. She adored you and it wasn't said enough. But you, you knew how to express it in every way. You would hold her if she had a bad day, cook if she couldn't, kept the house clean, made sure she never had to worry once she came home. You were her everything.
You kissed her softly, but with so much passion. "I'll go grab us food now then," you got up. Lingering around her just a second longer than usual. "I'll see you later, Melli."
"Bye, hun..." she watched you leave until she couldn't. She leaned back and just thought of the trip. She was going to Italy.
Meanwhile you were making the trip to her favorite food joint. Smiling when they had the order down before you even got to the counter.
"So...it's been what four years?" Pete checked you out. He seen you enough times with the red head to remember who you were. "Either of you making an official move?"
You smiled at the thought. "Who knows. If it's in our cards, I'm sure it'll happen. I can dream big though.
."
But you knew the miracle that would work. You knew Melissa better than anyone (except for Barb). Spoiling her while shopping was only the start.
~
"How long are we even staying? Where are we staying? Oh! I can show you all my families favorite places!" She got excited as you led through the mall.
She didn't expect you to stop outside of designer stores though. Her eyes falling to you with large dose of curiosity.
"No..." she caught your smile. Watching in slow motion as your hand opened the door and let her in. "Hun this is too much, we can go to somewhere simpler."
You sighed and walked in past her. "It's my treat. For all that you've done, this is how I can express my love for you. Spoiling you is only a minor expression. So! Melissa Schemmenti, let loose."
And she did. That woman knew how to shop for a new wardrobe. You were simply there for paying and carrying. Giving her the ultimate freedom to look everywhere. Her smile as every time she hit the checkout, it grew a little wider. This was the life she was destined to live and here you were providing it.
After a few hours of running in and out, you came up to the last store. Her favorite shoe store that she can only dream to buy from. "No. This is where I have to stop you. Those shoes are like a thousand dollars. A pair."
"Well it's a good thing you don't really get much of a choice. I'm picking up an order anyways. Take advantage of this moment Melli." You opened the door for her. Sighing when she didn't move. "Melissa. Come on."
"No. I can't let you spend that much on me on shoes." She stood her ground. In her mind you would've sighed and given up trying and you'd leave.
But you shrugged and went in anyways. Letting her watch the entire transaction as they handed you another bag. She was shocked that you actually had a pick up. Becoming even more shocked as they handed you two more. They weren't small bags either, each may e having three pairs.
When you came out, you shook your hair back and started walking towards the car. "I seriously don't see why you didn't come in. I already got you the shoes but you could've gotten more." Melissa mumbled something as they walked. You didn't think twice when you spun around, standing just ever so slightly taller than her. "What?" You had a certain glint.
"I said, you're up to something." She stood her ground. Arms folding and pushing up her boobs a bit.
You stared at her with an undecipherable look now. Then you just resumed walking. Leading the way back to the car.
The silence killed Melissa. It left her with too much time to think of what you could be up to. Even when packing everything up, you stayed silent.
You could hear her wondering thoughts. How she would watch you for a few seconds before continuing.
"You really that suspicious of me, Melli?" You came up to her. "You think there something more to this don't you?"
She huffed and rubbed her face, "it's just...you spent a lot of money and planned an entire trip to Italy without once mentioning it. You usually slip up or hint once at everything you do. And I haven't heard a hint for Italy ever. So what? What is the catch?"
You grabbed her hands, "we have been dating for four years. We haven't gotten away to somewhere ever. And I like the number four so I figured our fourth anniversary should be special for that matter. Italy will be a trip you remember."
Her eyes squinted at you, searching for any dishonesty. "There's more."
You only smiled wider. "Fine! We're meeting your family there. I was gonna have them pick us up as a surprise but it's been secret for so long and now it's here." She spoke quickly.
Her green eyes widen with shock. "Seriously?" There was a nod. Followed quickly by a hug. "I don't know what to say..."
"Just enjoy your time there, that's all I can ask of you." You kissed her sweetly. "Now we finish packing and then we're off!"
~
School had begun again. It was a few weeks in when you made your first appearance. "No, she didn't ever make that alter to the house. I truly think she's looking for another house to decorate." Melissa was talking to Barbra.
You scoffed as you walked in. "Melissa Schemmenti, are you dissing my name in here?" You came in, few envelopes in hand. You took the seat next to the red head and kissed her cheek.
"It's nice to see you, Y/n. How's the house? It's been a year since the last change?" Barb joked, using the conversation from a few seconds prior.
You beamed and shook your head. "I actually have a different alter in mind recently!" And that's when you slid the white envelope over. The sage green wax seal dawning one side, as the other had The Howard's written in cursive.
Both you and Melissa watched as she carefully opened it. Her gasp catching everyone's attention now. She glanced up, eyes wide as she finally noticed the ring.
"But you said..." she was speechless.
Melissa bobbed her head, "that it would only take a miracle for me to get married again. Yes, I did. But if you saw what this one did, you would've been a fool to say no."
"How? What?" The friend was still confused at this news.
You perked up as Melissa sat back, knowing her fiancé was going to tell it better. And for the entire lunch period, everyone listened as you explained the night in such detail.
"And that's how I got the Melissa Schemmenti to say he's to marrying me." You concluded. You found Melissa's eyes. "And there is not a single thing I won't do for her."
You shared a soft kiss with her. Both parting with subtle smiles that meant more than they let on. "But, save the date. March 7th. It's a Saturday. I have to go meet with the planner though, I'll see you at home."
A quick kiss and then you were gone. Melissa left with her confused coworkers.
"So..." Janine began. Looking at the other envelopes in front of Melissa.
She sighed but couldn't lie, she knew who's invites they were and she wouldn't want anyone else. "You are all invited, don't worry." She stood up to hand them all out.
"Melissa Schemmenti, you feel deeply in love." Barbra was rereading the invite. A pleased look that her friend was finally getting someone who loved her the way she loved them.
And you were that person from the very start.
#reader insert#abbot elementary#fanfic#melissa x reader#melissa schemmenti x reader#melissa schemmenti
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Crossdresser!Yn AU with baby Kaiser:
Ness: Why is he crying?!
Current Kaiser: How should I know?!
Isagi: Isn't that literally you, though?
Baby Kaiser, still crying: I want Yn! Where is he?! He promised to give me a piggy back ride!
Ness, mumbling to himself: This is so unfair
Current Kaiser: Listen here you runt, he is busy doing something else! He doesn't care about you!
Isagi: So you are finally admitting he doesn't care about you either?
Current Kaiser: Shut it! Him and I are two completely different things!
Isagi: If you say so...
CD!Yn walks in while carrying Chigiri's sister on her back: Heyo. I am back from my date. I bought you the kintsuba you wanted.
Isagi, taking the bag from her: Thanks!!
Ness: Why is she here?
Current Kaiser: This isn't really a girls place
Chigiri's sister: I wanted to visit Hyoma a little. Plus, I have permission from Ego-san to be here.
Ness: Can't you two just break up for my own peace?
CD!Yn: What?
Baby Kaiser, running up to Yn and pulling on her shirt: Why are you carrying her?! That's my spot! She shouldn't be there!
Current Kaiser: I agree with the last part.
Chigiri's sister: The heels I am wearing were a hassle at one point, and Yn decided to carry me like this. I am his girlfriend after all
Baby Kaiser:...
Baby Kaiser starts crying and punching Yn in the stomach: That's not true!! You have to marry me in the future!! You two need to break up!!
Kaiser and Ness start pulling him away while Isagi and Chigiri's sister inspect him for any injuries*
CD!Yn: I need to start getting paid for this
#bllk#blue lock anime#blue lock manga#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#blue lock#blue lock scenarios#isagi yoichi#crossdressing#bllk isagi#michael kaiser#bllk kaiser#alexis ness#bllk ness
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Part Six of the Catboy in the Village AU
Parts: 1|2|3|4|5
-
There's something in the castle, and it's weird.
It's silent save for its footsteps. It follows Cellbit and his forcibly-assigned guard wherever he goes, but it doesn't follow Roier and his guard. It isn't the queen, because she has been there several times when the Something has been hiding in Cellbit's shadow.
It isn't doing anything. Maybe it's just spying on Cellbit, but that's a given. He's been watched for a long time, probably, based off of how much the queen seems to know about him, but the Something just... doesn't feel like a spy? Its presence feels too small to be a threat, and yet it's been following Cellbit for at least an hour every day since his forced stay in the healer's quarters. Why? And, more importantly, what?
Since his stay in the healer's quarters, and since Roier was finally given permission to make himself and Cellbit their own (non-poisoned) meals, Cellbit has slowly, but steadily, begun his investigation of Castelo do Gato. He's been accompanied by his guard the whole time, but his guard also doesn't give a shit about what he's doing so long as he isn't escaping or trying to kill the queen, so Cellbit really doesn't think that he needs to be concerned about any information leaking to the queen.
His information as of day four of his investigation, and as of his eighth day of being kidnapped, is as follows:
The queen has only been queen for a couple of months now, and her first directive was a global search for her long-lost twin brother. Her name is Bagi, and she is very annoying, and Cellbit kind of hates her a lot.
There aren't as many staff in the castle as there should be. This makes sense; the previous king and queen were famously secretive, especially after their son's disappearance and the outbreak of the war. More staff is being hired, but there's a thorough screening process involved that the queen herself oversees.
The castle's healer's name is Niki. She's very nice, and she's better at potion making than Cellbit is. She's one of the queen's closer friends, and she's been with the castle since the previous king and queen were in charge.
The castle's mage's name is Mouse. She claims to be a demon, but not the demon, and she thinks that the demon haunting the castle needs to go to therapy because earthquakes and flames are not healthy forms of self expression. She draws her sigils with blood, and Cellbit really likes her.
The demon shows up once a week and shakes the castle and tears through the halls screaming. This only started when the queen took the throne (go figure.)
The missing brother went missing at 11 years old, and his name... was Cellbit, but he's a different Cellbit. There are no portraits of him in most of the castle upon the orders of the previous king, who was with the prince the day he vanished.
Everybody keeps talking about empanadas for some fucking reason, especially Niki and Mouse. The queen goes silent every time.
The investigation would probably be easier if Cellbit could force the queen to, like, act normally and tell him the truth, but she's a lost cause. She nearly threw her bowl of soup at Cellbit at dinner when he casually mentioned to Roier wanting to get a new pair of goggles to pin his ears back with, she's crazy.
But Cellbit isn't an idiot. He may have been a serial killer in his previous life, but he also spent a few years doing odd jobs and investigations around his and Roier's hometown. It's how they met, and it's how Cellbit is going to get them back home and to their kids.
So Cellbit investigates. He gets himself a notebook from the queen, who seemed relieved that he was doing something other than trying to murder her for once. He snoops around the castle, claiming that he's trying to get to know the building and the staff now that he's been "brought back home." (Saying that is enough to make him gag, but it's what works.) He goes to the library. He takes a nap in the courtyard on Roier's chest.
He steals Niki's spare pair of potion-making goggles, and he puts them on. He ignores the pain; he's used to it, after all.
And he's followed by the Something in the shadows.
Roier thinks that it's the queen stalking him, but Cellbit really doesn't. He's been in the same room with the queen and the Something, and stalking isn't the queen's style. She's bold with her moves, something that Cellbit almost admires about her. Almost.
(It's just nice to see a queen talk to both her staff and her citizens. That's all.)
But Cellbit goes to the library even with his little stalker, and that's where he is now. Researching. Looking into the royal genealogy records for any depiction of the prince- a painting, a sketch, anything.
There's a Something under the table by his knee. He can feel it breathing on him even through his trousers; its breaths are short and warm and almost panicked, hm. Maybe it shouldn't be creeping around if it can't handle the psychology of being a creep.
Cellbit's guard is almost asleep on a nearby sofa. Cellbit lets him sleep, he doesn't give a shit.
He flips through Volume Seven of Família De Gato. He's at the old king and queen's grandparents, so he's getting close. He can practically taste the prince: bitter, and dead.
So dead.
Absently, Cellbit adjusts his legs under the table. He crosses them, accidentally kicking the Something in the head as he does so.
And then he hears it: a near-silent little, "Ouch!"
"Desculpe," Cellbit tells it, because he isn't that much of a monster.
There's a gasp, tiny, and then the chair across from Cellbit shoves itself back from the table in a clear panic. The pages of Cellbit's book fly as a running breeze hits them as the Something takes off.
Cellbit glances at his guard. Asleep, wow, great!
With a grin, he licks his lips. And then he's out of his chair and running after the invisible Something with his pen clutched in his hand like a knife and his notebook held in his other hand.
The Something screeches as Cellbit swipes at it with his notebook hand. He whiffs, but his fingers brush against what is clearly hair. Human hair, he knows what human hair feels like, he's brushed his teeth with it plenty of times!
The Something blows through the library's door, Cellbit close behind. He can hear his guard shouting somewhere behind him, but fuck him. He fell asleep, this is clearly his fault!
Sometimes in the war, the Enemy would cast a spell that sent a dark fog over the battlefield. Cellbit had to rely on his hearing to survive.
He doesn't need to see the Something to know where it is. He can even guess how tall it is based off of how loud its footsteps are. It's... small. Light. Very fast, but still slower than a grown man.
Cellbit blinks as the air in front of him flickers. Something appears before him briefly before fading out again: something, indeed, small. Pink. Yellow.
Cellbit knows a fading invisibility potion when he sees it, he's tested them on himself enough times.
It's enough to give him the confidence to lunge and scoop the Something up and into his arms. He holds it against his chest and can't help but let out a brief, triumphant laugh.
"Finally!" he cheers.
And then a foot is driven backwards and right into his junk.
Cellbit groans and drops the Something, and then he drops himself right onto the floor and watches as the Something becomes a Someone in front of him. Their potion wears off fully, revealing a red-faced and exhausted little girl standing above him with her hands on her hips.
"Don't touch me!" she shouts.
Cellbit nods. Fair enough. "Yeah, okay. Hello."
The girl takes a step backwards. Her dress, pink, is made of fine silk. Her skin, dark, has little golden stars painted onto her cheeks like freckles. Her hair, wavy, falls into her face. Her hat looks like pancakes, clearly custom-made. It sits right on top of her head between two twitching, nervous, fuzzy little cat ears.
Ah?
Only members of the royal family, and Cellbit, have cat features. So does this make this girl...?
Slowly, Cellbit sits himself up. He looks down at his notebook, flips to a clean page. Puts his pen to paper. Looks back up at the girl.
She looks... upset. Mildly so. More uncomfortable than anything, she keeps patting her dress down and wiping at her abdomen with the palms of her hands.
"I'm sorry I grabbed you," Cellbit tells her.
She glances up at him with a small frown. "It's okay. I probably scared you."
Cellbit shrugs. "Eh, only a little. I've been followed by worse things than children."
Her eyes widen. "Really?"
"Mhmm. One time, I was followed around town by a half-man, half-spider for months."
She gasps. Cellbit nods. (He's sure Roier wouldn't mind being called a Spider-Man. He'd probably take it as a compliment, knowing him.)
"I'm just curious, really," Cellbit continues. "You live in a castle, what are you doing following a weird guy like me around?"
Immediately, the girl shakes her head and sticks her chin out. "I can't tell you. It's a secret."
Cellbit nods again. "That makes sense. You were invisible and everything. I didn't know you were there until a few minutes ago."
"Really?"
"Yes! You just need to work on your timing. Even if I didn't chase you out of the library, I would've found you because your potion would have run out right next to me."
The girl's face falls. "Oh."
"Don't worry, I'll write down some information on invisibility potions for you for later," Cellbit assures her. "Here..."
He scribbles out a simple potion schedule for a potion of average strength. Potions last for fifteen minutes, no potions for six hours after you take three potions in a row unless you want your skin to vanish but your insides to remain visible.
And then he tears the page out of his notebook and holds it out for the girl to take.
The girl stares at it.
"You... aren't angry that I'm following you around?" she quietly asks.
"Nope. You seem like a nice girl, even if your mom is kind of a weirdo. Just don't follow me into my cell with Roier, and you can keep following me around."
Her nose wrinkles. "Don't you mean your bedroom?"
Cellbit opens his mouth to argue, but he's stopped by his guard turning the corner and running towards them shouting vague assertive noises.
Cellbit rolls his eyes and puts his pen and notebook away. So much for today's research...
The guard's eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him.
"Your highness!" he gasps.
He drops to his knee and bows his head, his fist to his chest in a salute.
Cellbit huffs, but the girl just smiles and skips forward to pat the guard's helmet and tell him to stand.
"Yes, Princess Empanada," he says. "Whatever you say!"
...Princess Empanada.
Well. This explains a lot of confusion.
But... if the queen is sure that Cellbit is her brother, why hasn't she introduced him to her daughter? Unless... she isn't sure.
Unless she isn't sure.
Bingo. Maybe she can see reason, after all.
#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.#catboy in the village au#and here's our little detective!#she's doing such a good job everybody clap for her
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(look at me go, not asking anonymously for once lol)
“the web is underrated” “the buried is underrated” “the dark is the most underrated”
yes. you are right, i agree. but they are all underrated. none of the fears get the attention they deserve.
-the dark and the end are almost completely forgotten about due to their perceived simplicity.
-the buried, the flesh, the hunt, etc are so unexplored, no one bothers to look any deeper into them.
-the desolation is not just fire, but no one ever tries to represent it some other way.
-don’t get me started on the whole spiral-distortion thing (perhaps i will make this a future confession bc oh boy do i have a lot to say).
with all of them people seem to be scared of diverging from the explicit canon representations.
no one seems to care about the fears anymore. THE fears. you know, the one thing that makes tma so special? i’ve lost count of the number of times i’ve seen someone say “after listening to tma i can never look at things the same. i always categorise them by the entities”
that’s all they are treated as, categories. perhaps this is an odd way to describe horrific manifestations of our deepest fears, but i think they are beautiful concepts. i could spend hours thinking about each one and the ways they bleed into one another, i probably have.
yeah, at this point smirke’s 14 are old news, but there are always new angles to explore. we saw that in season 5 of tma, and we are seeing it now in tmagp (though the fears are of course different). why did we stop talking about that? (i wasn’t actually on tumblr when tma was happening so idk. maybe no one ever cared)
talk about the fears, put your ideas for unconventional statements or avatar or whatever out there, there’s an audience (me at least). say stuff about how different fears crossover, or some new aspect of one. “but surely people would have already said this at some point” respectfully, i don’t give a shit. if i come across mutliple posts analysing a similar aspect of the vast, i’m going to be fucking overjoyed. because much of the fears is up to intepretation, they have slightly different meanings to different people, so every single person’s interpretation adds value and adds something unique. i see a little of this, but not enough.
we should keep discussing the fears. i don’t know why we ever stopped.
(sorry this is so long and rambling, i hope you can see the points i’m trying to make.)
🗣️ i’d love to hear your thoughts on this
Literally this. Agree with all of it
Some things:
The Desolation can be natural disasters, including floods, storms and earthquakes. Water is just as destructive as fire
The Dark can be not knowing something. It overlaps with the eye yes, but it still counts
The Corruption is shown to be a response to loneliness, not the opposite of it. Its being so lonely you seek out community, no matter how dangerous it may be. Every single corruption statement has references to loneliness
The Spiral says its a liar, but its never done that, only changing your perception of reality to make what it says true. It is delusion not manipulation
The Slaughter is never portrayed outside of war, which is strange because sheer unhinged violence has so much variety
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cracks in my armor (mw6)
(this is one of my favorite ever requests, i thoroughly enjoyed writing this. thank u sm <3)
the air in the red bull cooldown room thrummed with a tension thicker than the celebratory champagne showers outside. y/n, still strapped into her helmet, glared daggers at mark webber across the room. the brazilian grand prix had delivered a 1-2 finish for red bull, y/n taking a dominant first with mark trailing a frustrated second.
jenson button, the ever-diplomatic test and reserve driver, attempted to lighten the mood. "well, that was quite a show out there, folks! didn't think the paint would stay on those cars after all that battling." mark grunted, not looking up from his phone. y/n slammed her helmet on the table, the force making jenson flinch. "show?" she spat. "more like a fight with a toddler throwing a tantrum because he's leaving his favorite toy behind."
mark's head snapped up, his blue eyes blazing with a flicker of something y/n couldn't decipher. "easy there, sunshine. don't get ahead of yourself. this isn't about you." y/n's jaw clenched. "isn't it? you couldn't stand being outshone again, could you? that's why you're quitting. ego bruised beyond repair by a little competition."
"oh, spare me the dramatics," mark countered, his voice tight. "it's not about ego. it's about moving on." "moving on to what?" y/n pressed, a tremor in her voice betraying a vulnerability she tried to hide. "because it sure as hell isn't another team." a beat of tense silence hung in the air. jenson, sweat beading on his forehead, cleared his throat. "maybe we should, uh, give them some space, guys?" he cast a helpless look at the camera crew, who were dutifully capturing every barb.
y/n ignored him, her gaze locked on mark. "what is it, mark? why the sudden change of heart? you always said formula one was your life." mark looked away, his jaw clenched. "things change," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "not that much," y/n insisted, her voice cracking slightly. "unless there's something else you're not telling me." the accusation hung heavy in the air.
mark finally met her gaze, his blue eyes swirling with a storm of emotions. "there's plenty i'm not telling you," he said roughly, his voice laced with a hidden pain. "but it has nothing to do with you."
y/n scoffed, but the spark of defiance seemed to falter. "convenient. of course the mighty fucking australian can't deal with answering a simple questions. now why did i expect any differently?" she said with a snide tone. "leave me alone y/l/n. honest to god before i say something i'll regret" he mumbled, turning away. "oh fuck no. you don't get to act like we haven't been fighting for the same oppurtinty, like i haven't suffered the same pain of competion," she yelled.
"YOU will NEVER understand the pain of yearning and fighting for something that will never truly be yours. no matter how hard you fucking try," mark shouted infuriated. silence descended once more, heavy and suffocating. the air crackled with unspoken words and a tension that went far beyond competition. jenson shifted uncomfortably, the weight of their unspoken feelings pressing down on him.
just then, the door to the room burst open, revealing christian horner, the red bull team principal, with a thunderous expression on his face. even the seasoned jenson flinched at the icy aura. the room fell silent, the weight of horner's presence pressing down on them. horner took a long look at the scene, taking in the red-faced drivers, the overturned chair, and the cameras filming the entire debacle. a slow, humorless smile spread across his face. "well," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "this is certainly one way to make headlines."
y/n and mark both looked away, shame flickering across their faces. the victory that had tasted so sweet just moments ago was now a bitter pill. the weight of their actions, captured for the world to see, settled heavily upon them. the cooldown room, once a place of celebration, now echoed with the deafening silence of a fractured team and something left unsaid.
the celebratory party in the red bull hospitality suite throbbed with a forced energy. y/n stood by the window, the cityscape of são paulo a glittering blur against the ache in her heart. every shared laugh, every raised champagne flute felt like a mockery of the raw emotions that had ripped through the cooldown room earlier.
finally, she couldn't take it anymore. with a deep breath, she excused herself and made her way down the hall, stopping at mark's designated suite. it took a moment to gather her courage, knuckles rapping tentatively against the door. silence. she rapped again, this time a little firmer. the door creaked open, revealing a weary mark, surprise flickering in his blue eyes.
"y/n?" he rasped, his voice raw. "can i come in?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. he stepped aside, and y/n entered, the door clicking shut behind her. the air crackled with tension, a stark contrast to the cheerful music filtering in from the party down the hall.
mark gestured to the couch, but y/n remained standing. "what did you mean?" she asked, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart. mark's gaze dropped to his hands. "i..." he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "i shouldn't have said that. it wasn't about the race." y/n pressed on, her voice gaining strength. "then what was it about, mark?" he looked up at her then, his eyes filled with a vulnerability that stole her breath. "it was about..." he hesitated, then blurted out, "it was about you."
the words hung heavy in the air. y/n's mind reeled. "me?" she whispered, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
mark took a step closer, his voice a low rumble. "for years, y/n. i've..." he stopped, his jaw clenched. "you've what?" she prompted, her voice barely audible. "i've had feelings for you," he confessed, his voice rough with emotion. "but i never thought i'd deserve someone like you. so talented, so beautiful, so damn brilliant." his voice cracked. "you were always out of reach."
y/n's breath caught in her throat. the truth, raw and unexpected, hit her like a wave. all this time, the constant bickering, the simmering tension, it wasn't just competition. it was a poorly disguised dance around unspoken feelings. "mark," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "i never thought..." "don't," he interrupted, his hand reaching out to gently cup her face. "it doesn't matter now. i'm leaving."
the reminder of his departure sent a fresh wave of pain through her. "but what if..." she trailed off, her gaze locked on his. he searched her eyes, a flicker of hope battling the resignation in his gaze. "what if what?" "what if i feel the same way?" she confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "maybe i didn't understand before, but i do now. i..." she faltered, then whispered, "i think i'm in love with you too, mark."
the weight of her confession hung in the air for a beat, then a slow smile spread across mark's face. it was a smile filled with relief, disbelief, and a joy that mirrored her own. before either of them could speak further, the gap between them closed. the kiss was slow, hesitant at first, then deepening as emotions they'd kept bottled up for so long came bursting forth. it was a kiss filled with longing, with unspoken apologies, and with the promise of a future they could now dare to dream of. when they finally broke apart, breathless and shaky, a new understanding shone in their eyes. the race, the fight, the angry outburst – it all paled in comparison to the truth they had finally confessed.
suddenly, a muffled thump came from the window ledge, followed by a low hiss. y/n and mark whipped around, startled. "what was that?" y/n whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. mark cautiously approached the window, his hand instinctively reaching for something that wasn't there. he peered out, then his eyes widened comically.
"oh my god," he breathed. y/n joined him, peering out the window. there, sprawled on the small balcony outside, were jenson button and fernando alonso, their faces contorted in a mixture of relief, amusement, and mild discomfort.
"busted!" jenson groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. fernando, ever the pragmatist, simply rolled his eyes. "took you long enough, you two." y/n and mark stared at them, speechless for a moment. then, y/n burst into laughter, a genuine, joyful sound that echoed through the room. mark, the blush creeping up his neck, joined in, the tension melting away.
"you were spying on us?" y/n exclaimed, wiping a tear from her eye.
jenson sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "well, not exactly spying. we just... happened to be enjoying the view and, uh, things escalated a bit." fernando snorted. "don't listen to him, he tripped over a potted plant and dragged me down with him." y/n and mark exchanged a look, then burst into laughter again. the awkwardness was gone, replaced by a shared sense of camaraderie. "well, congratulations you two," jenson said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. " fucking finally!"
"about bloody time," fernando echoed, raising a nonexistent glass in a toast.
y/n and mark grinned at each other, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted. as the sounds of the party drifted in from down the hall, a new kind of celebration bloomed – not just for their newfound love, but for the hilarious, unexpected way their friends had discovered it. the night, once filled with tension, now promised laughter, love, and a future brighter than any trophy.
#formula 1#mark webber#mw6#mark webber x you#mark webber x reader#mark webber x y/n#sebastian vettel#f1 imagine#red bull racing#formula one#y/n#crash#angst#romance#requests#ava speaks#redbull#fernando alonso#jenson button x y/n#f1#f1 fandom#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 scenario#f1 fluff#f1 oneshot#f1 one shot#f1 fics#f1 fanfic#f1 fic
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just a girl 1
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.
Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜
It isn't your proudest moment. You don't have many of those. There is little remarkable about, nothing of note, nothing admirable. You might stand a bit taller than most but it's rarely given as a good thing.
You never expected much of life. You resigned yourself to living in the shadows. In particular, you knew you would always bet outshone by your sister's light. You can't hate her for it; it's your own shortcoming. Besides, no one can hate Riannon, she's just that nice.
You are dark smear on the family name. It's why you didn't even think to ask your parents for help. You didn't even ask your sister, she offered, insisted really. You could never deny her and in this instant, you couldn't afford any other option.
It’s just for a while, you keep telling yourself. You’ll find a new job and a place soon. For now, you’ll just stay out of the way. It isn’t very hard; you take up much more room than your few possessions.
You keep yourself holed in the guestroom as you settle into your second day. You have your laptop on your thighs as you scroll the job boards. You have the experience but you expect your reference would be any good. You didn’t exactly end on cordial terms. Starting from square one, though the industry isn’t exactly even ground for men and women alike.
You hunker down to search through the various postings within your purview. Every classification is ticked off, even the years, it’s just that little note about contacting your previous employers that makes you nervous. Well, you at least have to try.
A knock comes at the door as you edit your cover letter once again. You sit up and close the computer. You slide it aside and get up. You cross the room and crack the door open. You sister smiles from the other side.
“Am I making too much noise?” You ask as your music plays music from its tiny speaker.
“No, no, not at all. Um, so you know Andy is out of town for the day so it’s just us,” she rocks, “and there’s a barbecue down the street so... I thought you could get to know the neighbourhood.”
You look down at her, the offer catching you off guard. You were prepared to spend the whole day hidden away and poring over job listings. Even when you had your own place, you tended to spend most of your own time inside.
Still, she is doing you a huge favour and it would be rude to say no. You shrug, “okay.”
“Great, I have some potato salad I'm bringing,” she chirps.
“Uh,” you look at her blue checkered capris and pristine white blouse, “should I change?”
“It’s up to you. I'm just going to get packed up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
Her excitement is palpable. She probably expected you to say no. You don’t want to let her down again. You’re tired of that feeling.
You close the door as she bounces away and you retreat to search through your still unpacked suitcase. Your clothes hang over the sides. You pick out a band shirt and a pair of dark grey jeans. You don’t have any shorts and you know your repertoire of dark colours only draws in the sun’s fury, and like of the vaunted HOA, but you don’t have many options.
You emerge with a pair of converse in hand and head into the kitchen. Rhiannon snaps the lid onto a big bowl as she beams up at you. You don’t understand how you share the same blood, she’s so different than you. Where you’re tall and gangly, she’s small and dainty; where your dour and reticent, she’s bright and bubbly. Your parents even kidded that you must’ve been switched at the hospital.
“Ready?” She asks.
You nod and look down at yourself.
“If you want to borrow a skirt or something, it’s pretty hot out.”
“It’s fine.”
You don’t take her offer as any comment on your choice, only genuine concern. If it was your mom, you would know it was more than that. To be fair, your mother is very direct with her critiques. Besides, even if her clothes would fit you, you don’t want to risk ruining any of her things.
“Alrighty, well, Marge will kill me if I’m late again,” she sings and sweeps around with the bowl. “It’ll be nice to get out, huh?”
“Mhmm,” you grumble and follow her down the hall to the front door.
She steps into her wedged sandals as you sit to pull on your converse and lace them up. You stand and get the door for her as she prances towards it. She thanks you and you trail her out. The sun hits you like fire. It’s so hot, though you think some of the heat comes from your own self-consciousness.
As you catch up to your sister at the bottom of the steps, you slow down to keep from outpacing her shorter legs. Even with her platformed soles, she’s still ahead shorter than you. You turn down the sidewalk as you shy away from the strange faces headed in the same direction.
“You want me to carry that?” You offer.
“Hey, I might be small but I can handle a salad,” she chirps.
“I know, I wasn’t--”
“I’m teasing. It’s fine, I got it,” she assures you as she hugs the bowl to her stomach, “I just want you to have a good day. Don’t think about everything else, okay?”
“Mm, okay,” you keep your head down as you slink next to her jouncing steps, “sorry, I'll try not to be too grim.”
“Whatever, you’re awesome,” she nudges you with her elbow, “you just be yourself and I know you’ll find some good friends around here.”
You try to smile but it hurts. She always sees the best in others, even when it’s not there. You keep pace with her and turn up another curated lawn. The walk is perfectly laid and the blossom tree sways overhead.
Rhiannon is welcomed through the open gate by one of those blonde women she has her book club with and you shuffle in with your hands in your pockets. You feel the woman’s harsh gaze and peek up. She looks at you the same way your mother does. Her name is Marge and her friend is Callie and there are dozens of the Stepford-like figures posted throughout the yard.
“Come, let’s put your salad out,” Marge insists.
Rhiannon looks at you and you chew your cheek, “go, I'll be fine.”
She looks reluctant but you’re already walking away. You ignore the smell of sausage and beef rising from the barbeque and the splash and laughter of children from the pool. You aren’t going to find any friends here. That much is clear. Housewives and little kids, you don’t really fit the bill.
You find your way to the far end of the lawn and stand by a tree you might just blend into. Or maybe you might bury yourself in the rose bushes. You pull your hands from your pockets and hook your fingers into your belt loops, swaying as you watch a bumble bee hover over the grass.
“Foo Fighters, huh?” A low drawl brings your head up as a man approaches with a beer bottle in hand.
“Um, yeah,” you look down at your shirt, tugging on the hem.
“You go to a show?” He asks as he stops near you, drinking from the bottle as he waits for your answer.
“Never been to one,” you cross your arms, “but I listen to them.”
“Ah, yeah, well, they put on a hell of a show,” he wiggles the bottle as he talks, “lot more fun than these things.”
You look up the yard towards the mingling of voices and sound. Despite your efforts to hide in a corner, you must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Shoot, maybe he thinks you’re trespassing.
“I came with my sister,” you point and shift towards the party, “sorry, um, Rhiannon. I didn’t... I was just looking at the roses.”
“Not my party,” he scoffs, “I don’t care.”
“Oh,” you blink and look at him. He's about your height, dark curly hair, and vibrant blue eyes. His dark beard is thick and stubble prickles along his neck. He wears a plain white shirt and jeans; the bare minimum. “Right, er, well...”
“Not a bad idea, hiding behind a tree,” he remarks, “but you're missing the key ingredient.”
He stops and stares, crooking a brow as if you should know what he means.
“Alcohol,” he raises his bottle, “they got a keg even. Probably the only good part about these bull—these things.”
“I don’t drink,” you mutter, “but thanks.”
You put your head down and stare at the grass around his shoes. You don’t know why he’s bothering you if it isn’t to make you leave. Obviously, you don’t belong.
“Never too late to start,” he snorts and stays as he is.
You don’t know how to make him leave you alone so you say nothing. The bee dips into a tulip’s mouth and you turn to watch it. Maybe he’ll take your silence as a hint.
#walter marshall#dark walter marshall#dark!walter marshall#walter marshall x reader#drabble#au#just a girl#series#night hunter#defending jacob#andy barber
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Pay it no mind
Part XIX
In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).
Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.
Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII
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“So that’s what the old man wanted,” Satoru said as he took the lollipop out of his mouth and held it before his eyes. “Did you accept?”
Gojo had been hanging out with you in the teacher’s room when you were called for a meeting with principal Yaga and principal Gakuganji, who had come to visit the Tokyo school.
You shook your head in silence.
“He said I should think about it and give him my response before he leaves in two days.” You leaned against the wall just as Satoru was doing.
He had an amused smile on his face. “What is it now? He gets bored he goes talent hunting for Kyoto?”
You and Satoru had both been teaching at the Tokyo school for little over a year, and during that time, Yaga had told you once or twice that you could teach at Kyoto if you wanted to, they were sort of understaffed there as of lately and it would be a good opportunity, and you had always refused him, but when the offer came from Gakuganji himself, why had you not said anything immediately?
“So, are you going to think about it?" Satoru’s voice interrupted your thoughts, just as the image of him would always interrupt them whenever you had thought of leaving, of taking a different path.
In your early twenties, there were still many paths you could take, but you knew the same did not hold true for Satoru. You could be offered a position in Kyoto or assigned anywhere else, but Satoru could never leave Tokyo for the long-term, he was needed there more than anywhere.
“Do you think I should?” you asked him.
As much as Satoru wanted to say he would support any decision you made, he did not really like the idea of you moving to a different city. Even if Kyoto was not awfully far away, it would still probably mean that he would not see you as much, so what he said instead was:
“If you feel like you can’t handle the curses nor the students here, yeah, sure, think about it.”
He was smirking mockingly, and you knew he was just joking, but the side gaze he was giving you seemed to indicate he did not want you to think about it.
“It’s you the one I can’t handle here. Good luck to the one who has to keep you in check when I leave.” You nudged him.
“If it worries you that much, you should stay,” Satoru said and put the lollipop back in his mouth. His tone was as playful as before, and his words sounded lighthearted.
You two bantered a little more before both of you had to go to back to your students, but before you parted, he said:
“You love this city, and the students love you, and I... " For a second, you thought he was going to say he loved you too, but what he said was "I think you should stay here too.”
And so you did.
Had Satoru ever felt bad about telling you to stay? He had sometimes doubted he should have done it.
Had he been happy when you had stayed by his side while you bid farewell to Gakuganji two days later? Very.
***
When you opened your eyes, it took you a second to remember why the bed felt different. It was not your bed but Satoru’s, and the form next to you was the owner of the bed himself.
After coming back in, you had gone to sleep. Satoru believed that, since his bed was big enough to fit both of you with some room in between, you could just share it, but there had been two factors you had not considered : 1) Satoru was a clingy sleeper, and even if he had laid down on the other side of the bed, it would not take him long to roll into your side and put an arm around you, and 2) how flustered you would be when he did it.
It was a habit, and you had never considered it more than that before. Even when you were younger, Satoru would just lay down next to you, usually leaving some room between the two as to not purposefully touch you, but when he was asleep, he always ended up pressed to you.
Maybe he unconsciously searches for warmth when he sleeps.
Some time ago, the last time you had slept in Satoru’s room because he had been intoxicated and ended in a similar situation, you had been trying to get over him. Now you could not help but wonder if this could be what life would be like for you two if you were together. Would you spend more time at his place or at yours? Would you sleep together every night? Would he kiss you goodnight and snuggle next to you instead of awkwardly getting under the sheets on the opposite side of the bed as he had done today?
Would we be happy together?
You turned on your side to take a better look of Satoru with the little light that filtered from outside, but the movement seemed to awake him.
“What is it?” his voice was soft and if he noticed the way his arm was wrapped around you, he did not show any intention of removing it. “Can’t sleep?”
You shook your head. “I was just wondering if we would be happy.”
He smiled lazily and blinked slowly as if his eyes wanted to go back to sleep. “We have been happy, haven’t we?”
We have, you thought. And didn’t someone said once that if something works, you should not try to fix it?
You looked at him, his eyes that held the skies in them, his sharp features that could look so soft when he was relaxed like this, his lips that had touched yours a few times and had felt as soft as they looked.
“I know, but don’t you think things will change if we…?” you stopped talking realizing Satoru had closed his eyes again, likely giving up against the need for sleep.
But when you moved lightly under his arm, you heard him murmur “We will be happier, I know it.”
And maybe it was the way he was holding onto you or how comfortable it felt, but you believed him.
***
“Are you alone?” Shoko’s voice came soundly and clearly from Satoru’s phone, and he directed a quick glance at you to see if you had heard it.
Why would she ask him that?
You appeared to understand his look as a cue to leave him alone in his living room and Shoko took his silence as an indication that he was indeed not alone, so she continued.
“Are you with [name]?”
Satoru finally spoke. “They just left the room. Were you trying to reach them?”
Shoko seemed to hesitate for a second. “No… I just wanted to check if they were taking missions tonight. If they are with you, it should be fine.”
“What do you mean?” Satoru thought it odd that Shoko called for that. Why had she not called you instead?
“Gojo, I think there is something you need to know about.”
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Note: Huh... Realizing now that I'm not consistent when it comes to parts' length. Anyways...
Thank you for reading!
@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x y/n#jjk drabbles#jjk fanfic#gojo fanfic#gojo x you#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo fluff#or maybe angst?#pay it no mind
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Last August, Lucy Letby, a thirty-three-year-old British nurse, was convicted of killing seven newborn babies and attempting to kill six others. Her murder trial, one of the longest in English history, lasted more than ten months and captivated the United Kingdom. The Guardian, which published more than a hundred stories about the case, called her “one of the most notorious female murderers of the last century.” The collective acceptance of her guilt was absolute. “She has thrown open the door to Hell,” the Daily Mail wrote, “and the stench of evil overwhelms us all.”
The case galvanized the British government. The Health Secretary immediately announced an inquiry to examine how Letby’s hospital had failed to protect babies. After Letby refused to attend her sentencing hearing, the Justice Secretary said that he’d work to change the law so that defendants would be required to go to court to be sentenced. Rishi Sunak, the Prime Minister, said, “It’s cowardly that people who commit such horrendous crimes do not face their victims.”
The public conversation rushed forward without much curiosity about an incongruous aspect of the story: Letby appeared to have been a psychologically healthy and happy person. She had many close friends. Her nursing colleagues spoke highly of her care and dedication. A detective with the Cheshire police, which led the investigation, said, “This is completely unprecedented in that there doesn’t seem to be anything to say” about why Letby would kill babies. “There isn’t really anything we have found in her background that’s anything other than normal.”
The judge in her case, James Goss, acknowledged that Letby appeared to have been a “very conscientious, hard working, knowledgeable, confident and professional nurse.” But he also said that she had embarked on a “calculated and cynical campaign of child murder,” and he sentenced her to life, making her only the fourth woman in U.K. history condemned to die in prison.
[...] The N.H.S. has a totemic status in the British psyche—it’s the “closest thing the English have to a religion,” as one politician has put it. One of the last remnants of the postwar social contract, it inspires loyalty and awe even as it has increasingly broken down, partly as a result of years of underfunding. In 2015, the infant-mortality rate in England and Wales rose for the first time in a century. A survey found that two-thirds of the country’s neonatal units did not have enough medical and nursing staff.
[...] A woman came to the hospital after her water broke. She was sent home and told to wait. More than twenty-four hours later, she noticed that the baby was making fewer movements inside her. “I was concerned for infection because I hadn’t been given any antibiotics,” she said later. She returned to the hospital, but she still wasn’t given antibiotics. She felt “forgotten by the staff, really,” she said. Sixty hours after her water broke, she had a C-section. The baby, a girl who was dusky and limp when she was born, should have been treated with antibiotics immediately, doctors later acknowledged, but nearly four hours passed before she was given the medication. The next night, the baby’s oxygen alarm went off. “Called Staff Nurse Letby to help,” a nurse wrote. The baby continued to deteriorate throughout the night and could not be revived. A pathologist found pneumonia in the baby’s lungs and wrote that the infection was likely present at birth.
[...] A team from the Royal College of Paediatrics and Child Health spent two days interviewing people at the Countess [Letby's hospital]. They found that nursing- and medical-staffing levels were inadequate. They also noted that the increased mortality rate in 2015 was not restricted to the neonatal unit. Stillbirths on the maternity ward were elevated, too. [...] The Royal College could find no obvious factors linking the deaths; the report noted that the circumstances on the unit were “not materially different from those which might be found in many other neonatal units within the UK.”
[...] In September, 2022, a month before Letby’s trial began, the Royal Statistical Society published a report titled “Healthcare Serial Killer or Coincidence?” The report had been prompted in part by concerns about two recent cases, one in Italy and one in the Netherlands, in which nurses had been wrongly convicted of murder largely because of a striking association between their shift patterns and the deaths on their wards. The society sent the report to both the Letby prosecution and the defense team. It detailed the dangers of drawing causal conclusions from improbable clusters of events. In the trial of the Dutch nurse, Lucia de Berk, a criminologist had calculated that there was a one-in-three-hundred-and-forty-two-million chance that the deaths were coincidental. But his methodology was faulty; when statisticians looked at the data, they found that the chances were closer to one in fifty.
[...] “Looking for a responsible human—this is what the police are good at,” Schafer [a law professor at the University of Edinburgh who studies the intersection of law and science] told me. “What is not in the police’s remit is finding a systemic problem in an organization like the National Health Service, after decades of underfunding, where you have overworked people cutting little corners with very vulnerable babies who are already in a risk category. It is much more satisfying to say there was a bad person, there was a criminal, than to deal with the outcome of government policy.”
[...] Several months into the trial, Richard Gill, an emeritus professor of mathematics at Leiden University, in the Netherlands, began writing online about his concerns regarding the case. Gill was one of the authors of the Royal Statistical Society report, and in 2006 he had testified before a committee tasked with determining whether to reopen the case of Lucia de Berk. England has strict contempt-of-court laws that prevent the publication of any material that could prejudice legal proceedings. Gill posted a link to a Web site, created by Sarrita Adams, a scientific consultant in California, that detailed flaws in the prosecution’s medical evidence. In July, a detective with the Cheshire police sent letters to Gill and Adams ordering them to stop writing about the case. “The publication of this material puts you at risk of ‘serious consequences’ (which include a sentence of imprisonment),” the letters said. “If you come within the jurisdiction of the court, you may be liable to arrest.”
Letby is housed in a privately run prison west of London, the largest correctional facility for women in Europe. Letters to prisoners are screened, and I don’t know if several letters that I sent ever reached her. One of her lawyers, Richard Thomas, who has represented her since early in the case, said that he would tell Letby that I had been in touch with him, but he ignored my request to share a message with her, instead reminding me of the contempt-of-court order. He told me, “I cannot give any comment on why you cannot communicate” with Letby. Lawyers in England can be sanctioned for making remarks that would undermine confidence in the judicial system. I sent Myers, Letby’s barrister, several messages in the course of nine months, and he always responded with some version of an apology—“the brevity of this response is not intended to be rude in any way”—before saying that he could not talk to me.
[...] Michael Hall, the defense expert, had expected to testify at the trial—he was prepared to point to flaws in the prosecution’s theory of air embolism and to undetected signs of illness in the babies—but he was never called. He was troubled that the trial largely excluded evidence about the treatment of the babies’ mothers; their medical care is inextricably linked to the health of their babies. In the past ten years, the U.K. has had four highly publicized maternity scandals, in which failures of care and supervision led to a large number of newborn deaths.
[...] Johnson, the prosecutor, pushed her to come up with her own explanation for each baby’s deterioration. Yet she wasn’t qualified to provide them. “In general, I don’t think a lot of the babies were cared for on the unit properly,” she offered. “I’m not a medical professional to know exactly what should and shouldn’t have happened with those babies.”
“Do you agree that if certain combinations of these children were attacked then unless there was more than one person attacking them, you have to be the attacker?” Johnson asked at one point.
“No.”
“You don’t agree?”
“No. I’ve not attacked any children.”
Johnson continued, “But if the jury conclude that a certain combination of children were actually attacked by someone, then the shift pattern gives us the answer as to who the attacker was, doesn’t it?”
“No, I don’t agree.”
“You don’t agree. Why don’t you agree?”
“Because just because I was on shift doesn’t mean that I have done anything.”
[...] After a few days of cross-examination, Letby seemed to shut down; she started frequently giving one-word answers, almost whispering. “I’m finding it quite hard to concentrate,” she said.
Johnson repeatedly accused her of lying. “You are a very calculating woman, aren’t you, Lucy Letby?” he said.
“No,” she replied.
He asked, “The reason you tell lies is to try to get sympathy from people, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“You try to get attention from people, don’t you?”
“No.”
“In killing these children, you got quite a lot of attention, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t kill the children.”
[...] Toward the end of the trial, the court received an e-mail from someone who claimed to have overheard one of the jurors at a café saying that jurors had “already made up their minds about her case from the start.” Goss reviewed the complaint but ultimately allowed the juror to continue serving.
He instructed the twelve members of the jury that they could find Letby guilty even if they weren’t “sure of the precise harmful act” she’d committed. [...] The jury deliberated for thirteen days but could not reach a unanimous decision. In early August, one juror dropped out. A few days later, Goss told the jury that he would accept a 10–1 majority verdict.
[...] The public conversation about the case seemed to treat details about poor care on the unit as if they were irrelevant. In his closing statement, Johnson had accused the defense of “gaslighting” the jury by suggesting that the problem was the hospital, not Letby. Defending himself against the accusation, Myers told the jury, “It’s important I make it plain that in no way is this case about the N.H.S. in general.” He assured the jury, “We all feel strongly about the N.H.S. and we are protective of it.” It seemed easier to accept the idea of a sadistic “angel of death” than to look squarely at the fact that families who had trusted the N.H.S. had been betrayed, their faith misplaced.
Since the verdicts, there has been almost no room for critical reflection. At the end of September, a little more than a month after the trial ended, the prosecution announced that it would retry Letby on one of the attempted-murder charges, and a new round of reporting restrictions was promptly put in place. The contempt-of-court rules are intended to preserve the integrity of the legal proceedings, but they also have the effect of suppressing commentary that questions the state’s decisions. In October, The BMJ, the country’s leading medical journal, published a comment from a retired British doctor cautioning against a “fixed view of certainty that justice has been done.” In light of the new reporting restrictions, the journal removed the comment from its Web site, “for legal reasons.” At least six other editorials and comments, which did not question Letby’s guilt, remain on the site.
it looks like a british nurse was wrongfully convicted based on poor evidence and the tabloid media environment. this new yorker article is embargoed in the uk!
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Hey there, I wondered if Tears ever gets insecure about his arm, scars or possibly even his height. Like I find his height absolutely perfect and adorable but he is smaller than most other people and it might bother him?
So I've been wondering how he acts when insecure and what would be a good way to comfort him. I would just hold him and try to convince him of all the good qualities he has. As well as petting through his hair. Making him feel loved and secure. And honestly an extraordinary arm isn't that bad, it doesn't affect who he is after all.
I wonder if that would help or he'd need some other form of comfort. Or maybe to be left alone. Anything from an answer to hc's to a short story or even deletion is fine! If you even have time and are willing that is!
Have a great day! <3
I absolutely loved this request, thank you so much for it - I've gone with three different possible scenarios for why he could be dealing with feeling insecure and some headcanons for how you could help him feel better about himself after each one <3 There is one major one I left out but the issue regarding his memories will definitely be explored some time soon!
honestly exploring tears is just so fun, it's nice tearing into his different layers :3c
headcanons under the cut!
[masterlist]
due to his prosthetic
✦ This is the easiest of his insecurities to deal with, as it only really tends to show itself when his phantom pains act up.
✦ he’s long used to having lost his arm by the point that you meet, having had to figure out a replacement for when Rauru’s arm faded after his second quest was over.
✦ despite that though he still isn’t used to the ricocheting pain he gets once every so often, less now than when he was first still drowned in gloom but still just as debilitating.
✦ He just needs to taken away from other people and shown affection, reassured that his is a benefit rather than something people only pity him for.
✦ it’s all he really needs in those moments of vulnerability, when he can feel the flesh being shredded from his none existent bone.
“Wouldn't it be better if there was some way to just have my arm go back to how it should be? That way I wouldn’t be such a burden when he decides to haunt me again.”
“Sherbert whatever do you mean? You aren’t a burden for this, why even consider it?”
“The whole group has had to come to a stop just because of this stupid pain and I know you’ve seen time getting pissed off with me for the things I can do with it.”
“Time’s just an old man who’s worried about your safety, he means no harm with it. Wars got the rest to come to a stop for the same reason, not because you’re a burden, but because we care for you.”
“But If my arm wasn’-”
“Your arm is part of who you are. And I wouldn’t have it any other way, I love you for you Li, don’t even waste your energy thinking otherwise.”
✦ another way to help him through these patches is more to do with also indulging his love for learning about your home, or well more to the point - stickers. Giving him ones with meaning and that he thinks are pretty help him to work his confidence back. Because it wouldn't be possible without his arm!
due to his height
✦ This comes out even rarer than his doubts about his arm, and only due to a very specific scenario and that’s if you’re talking about Earth's beauty standards - how taller people are often seen as more attractive.
✦ If you aren’t quick to say otherwise he’s going to assume that’s what you think too, it’s going to do a real number on his self esteem - because the thing is, he never really cares about what other people think about him, it simply doesn’t even register as something he should be worried about before he met you outside of the memory issue but that’s a whole other thing
✦ this is the first time that something that REALLY has never been an issue for him becomes a big problem, if you aren’t aware of why he’s feeling like this then the sudden shift will come as a surprise. As he starts to avoid you and tear up whenever you see him before leaving. The rest of the chain mention that they’ve seen him tinkering with things but no one has seen exactly what it is.
✦ the reason it came up was possibly from another member of the chains jealousy of how close the two of you were before this, or simply another villager trying to get you to go with them ‘because why wouldn’ t you want a tall handsome guy?
✦ the sooner you can catch on and comfort him the better, as it’ll give it less time to get stuck in his head that you aren’t comforting him because it’s true, and it’s harder to tell himself that it isn’t while you’re pretty much confirming it
✦ but when you finally do get through to him that you don’t care about his height? That you aren’t secretly judging him for being so short? He’ll have a little moment where he breaks down, he’s been avoiding you for so long… and for what? All that time with you he’s missed over such a ridiculous reason will haunt him for at least a few days.
“Tears? Link what are you doing? You’ve been avoiding me for nearly a week now. And - are those?”
“I, no I haven’t been ‘avoiding’ you, just, I’ve just been busy… yeah.”
“Were you just making those stilts this whole time? Is that why you’ve blanked me, seriously?”
“I just - I, that - in the village.”
“Hey, hey lilac there’s no need to cry love, I’m not angry, I’ve just missed you. You don’t have to tell me why, it’s just worried me.”
“It - that guy, what he said - I just, wouldn’t you prefer someone taller?”
“Well someone taller wouldn’t be you love. And I couldn’t even imagine being with someone else.”
“R-really?”
“Really darling.”
✦ he'll be impossibly clingy and almost showy after the fact, to the point where other people start getting concerned about how close he's getting - but it's not like he's hurt anyone else over it yet but if the villager who planted the idea in his head ever appears again then, well who would blame him..?
due to his sexuality (haha demiromantic asexual tears hc stepping innn)
✦ This is a bit more of a unique one, because it isn’t something he’s had to put all that much thought into before, it’s just never come up, but when he hears how some of the others talk about relationships he starts to have doubts about himself.
✦ He simply doesn’t feel things that the others have described and the things that he has felt happened so much slower than how they said it did for them. He simply can’t help but question if there was- is something wrong with him.
✦ He only started to fall when he was good friends with you, not the instant connection that he heard that time had with malon, or twi with midna. He doesn’t want you the person who he loves more than his own life to be with someone who he’s starting to think as so broken. If he can’t feel love ‘right’ then how could he hope to treat you right?
✦ If he learns about this being normal, about the fact that other people share the same things as him, that he has flags that can use to show off his identity? It’s the biggest relief that he’s felt since meeting someone who treated him like a person.
✦ once he’s gotten it through his head that he’s not broken, and that he doesn’t need to be worried about not being enough for you. You accept him for what he is and aren’t trying to make him change. It’s something he very very rarely gets to experience, and it definitely helps him feel even closer to you in the end
✦ some of the biggest comfort he gets is you just accepting him and letting his feelings progress at his natural rate, it’s one of the best things he could have hoped for.
#hehe silly boyyyy#love himbbb#linked universe x reader#yandere linked universe x reader#yandere linked universe#link x reader#yandere link#lu tears#totk x reader#totk link#loz x reader#moss✦writes
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“Mor went through similar trauma as Nesta so why does she hate her instead of helping her”
…..
It is because of Mor’s trauma that she is reluctant to help Nesta.
Let me break this down and make it simple for you. Mor is a victim of familial abuse. She grew up in a place that was prejudiced, classist, closed minded, misogynistic etc. Now she has a friend, Feyre, who is a victim of familial abuse (just like her though the types of abuse was different) from Nesta.
I don’t think a lot of you were listening (or comprehending) when Mor said that Nesta reminded her of the people from the CoN. Y’all became too angry because of that sentence that it stopped y’all from actually comprehending what Mor was saying. From Mor’s pov Nesta is a slut-shamer who is also prejudiced, close minded, and abused her sister…why would Mor like or want to help her when from the outside looking in she shares a lot of the same qualities as the people who Mor grew up with?
Even during their first meeting Nesta looks down on Mor for what she wears…something that her family did. Nesta looks down on Cassian for being an “Illyrian bastard”…something that the CoN does. Nesta abuses and degrades her little sister…something Mor also went through. I feel like a lot of Nesta fans are just too in denial about how terrible she actually comes across because they don’t want to accept that every person who has disliked Nesta has had a valid reason to do so.
I don’t know why this fandom sees Mor as a tool for the Archeron sisters to heal and not her own person with trauma and experiences. Just because she helped Feyre that does not mean she is now obligated to help or understand Nesta. Just because they are both traumatized women that does not mean they are obligated to help one another. I mean you never say Nesta should have helped Mor with her trauma? You never call her out for slut shaming her…so why is Mor expected to? Why is Mor expected to reach out and connect with a stranger who has never once been nice to her?
“She should be mature enough to overlook Nesta’s prickliness and see that she’s hurting” shouldn’t Nesta be mature enough to not go around slut-shaming strangers and seeing women (even her own sister) as competitors? That’s your feminism icon?
Just because Mor is Feyre’s bestie that does not mean she has to connect with Nesta. I mean you don’t see us saying the Valkyries should go to the River house and help Feyre with any of her issues…
#feyre archeron#nesta archeron#pro feyre#morrigan#pro morrigan#feyre x mor#mor and feyre#feyre#mor#nesta#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf
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Starchaser band au
Any trope or type
Maybe like them being rival bands but they are in a secret relationship and write and sing songs about eachother at their shows
Also maybe the media could find out about it because of the songs or something idk
gotcha.
JEGULUS. 623 words. RIVAL BANDS. AWARD SHOW.
"And the winner is... Regulus Black!"
Everyone was clapping. The entire room was suddenly plunged in the loud maelstrom of noise caused by the announcement. People stood up. James stood up too. He had been nominated in the best songwriter of the year category too, but he stood up.
The camera zoomed on his face; he knew cameras were on him, but he ignored them. He played it nonchalantly, standing up slowly, clapping like a fair loser, a little polite smirk at the corner of his lips. Truth was, he wanted to grin fully, to meet Regulus' eyes. Unfortunately, the latter had been sitting in the back, and James' assigned seat was front row.
Regulus walked up to the stage. Shook a few hands. Adjusted the microphone.
"Thank you. Thank you everyone. I am beyond grateful to be able to stand here in front of you today. If it wasn't for Evan telling me, four years ago, that I could write our bands songs, for trusting me with such an important part of our albums, I would never have gotten this opportunity."
He let out a chuckle, and waved somewhere in the crowd. James guessed he was waving at Evan, and at the rest of the Green Roses, Barty and Dorcas.
Sirius, next to James, elbowed him.
"He's being a bit arrogant, isn't he?"
James smiled downwardly, shrugging at his friend.
"You're not too upset he won instead of you? I know you two had this rivalry. I mean, our band won best performance, but..."
"No, I'm good," James soberly answered, eyes still fixed attentively on Regulus. His stylist had done his aura justice, tonight. James, at this point was not really listening anymore. He was instead drooling, in his seat front row, eyeing the man up and down in his lace top and his pretty pants showing off his ass. He only wanted one thing. Regulus for look at him. His prayers must have been heard somewhere because Regulus then looked down at him from the stage. Directly gazing at him without looking away. James didn't either.
"I've been pushed to always write the best songs. And I believe... there's a difference: between the songs that are meant to be sung, and the ones that are meant to be heard."
James grinned. So did Regulus. Both of their band's songs were meant to be heard... by each other. James knew the Green Roses' songs were about him. And he was more or less sure Regulus knew the Marauders' were about him too.
"I wrote songs meant to be heard. I wrote songs that were meant to be embodied. I think I am, today, lucky enough to say that the person meant to hear them has been able to see them performed several times."
James chuckled to himself, laughing with his nose.
"That's why I'd like to thank The Marauders. For always dragging James Fleamont Potter to our concerts. Thank you everyone," He concluded with the biggest and smugiest smirk ever, knowing look in James' direction, pushing the mic away and holding his trophy up one last time, under the scandalised and supportive cheers and whistles of the crowd.
James now couldn't stop the smirk blooming on his face. He knew the cameras were still pointed on him, and that he probably should keep a straight face. But he couldn't help it. Regulus looked so smug. Tongue poking his cheek, he ended up sliding his eyes back to his band mates. Remus, Lily and Marlene were looking at him with wide eyes from their seats. But the one that said something first was the one sitting at his right, Sirius, singer and guitarist. Accessoringly James' best friend. Accessoringly Regulus' brother.
"James?!" Sirius let out, jaw dropped but hint of a smile on his face, visibly shocked, as James struggled to keep his lips sealed into a neutral expression.
the end ;)
feel free to send more asks...
#jegulus#james potter#regulus black#marauders#dead gay wizards#band au#microfic#marauders microfic#jegulus microfic#fame au
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I've been thinking a lot about gender identity and stuff lately, but to my shame I’m not the most educated person when it comes to lgbt related stuff. Every time I try to search it to learn more I end up freaking out and clearing my browsing history because of the feeling of being watched. I know I’m being unreasonable, but it’s stronger than me. I don’t have anyone to ask about this kind of stuff. Everyone around me is negative about lgbt, I grew up among this negativity. I’m afraid to ask my online friends because I don’t want to seem ignorant or stupid. What have I decided to do? Send an anonymous ask to a stranger about my concerns (sorry about that), whose blog helped me to accept the fact that I might not be who I though I was at the first place. It feels more safe. Back to the point.
As a teen I used she/they pronouns and a different gender-neutral name online for years. I still do it as an adult and now I realise that “she” was more like a compromise for me because it was what I used to be referred as for my whole life, but didn’t feel quite comfortable with. So it’s they/them for me, I guess. Okay. I’ve always preferred to not be related to any gender, but now I see that there’s more to it. I might be a nonbinary, but what if I’m actually an agender? I also consider the possibility of being a genderfluid because one moment I wear a dress and think that it looks good, and the other moment I cry in front of a mirror because of the idea of wearing it. So yeah, it depends on my mood. I don’t know how it works. I’m just so confused. The only thing I know that I’m not comfortable with being referred to as a female anymore. I’ve never really been.
Admittedly, as someone who is binary trans, I do not have a lot of knowledge in this area. I do know what it’s like to not know what you’re “supposed to be” though. And I know it can be frustrating and scary to be lost in trying to figure out your own identity.
I asked some of my friends, who are nonbinary and genderfluid themselves, and the first thing we all have to say is you should allow yourself more kindness. I am sorry that you grew up around so much negativity. But I want you to know that it’s both okay to feel afraid but also okay to not know everything. If a friend is going to treat you badly for asking questions, they’re not a very good friend.
One of my friends says the part you said about “making compromises” resonated a lot with them a lot, so you aren’t alone there. As for how you feel in a dress, clothes do not equal gender. You can like how you look in a dress without any of it having to do with girl-ishness. I suggest you try to think about why you like it when you do, and why you don’t when you don’t. My friends also suggested trying other clothes you can express yourself with. Think about why you like them, or why you don’t like them. (Of course, sometimes the answer has nothing to do with gender. I like athletic clothing because they make me look sporty, which is a neutral thing. But it’s good to know what parts aren’t related to gender at all too.) That extends beyond clothes too, any part of your presentation that you think you can play with without getting yourself into danger, you should.
It’s tempting to feel like you have to scramble to figure out a label. Especially when advice and other people you can talk to can feel sort of “grouped” under them. And there’s a lot of knowledge to be gained that way for sure. But there’s a lot of knowledge to be gained just in figuring out what you do and don’t like. What makes you feel bad, what makes you feel at ease, what makes you super excited. You‘ve got it nailed down that you don’t like being called a female, that’s not a bad start!
If your friends are people you think are good and kind, I would suggest reaching out to them so that you can explore things a little more with them, considering they know you better than I would. I know it's scary, but there's nothing wrong with not knowing things, and I hope they'd be aware of that too. And even if you call yourself something now and explore more into it, there's no harm if in the future it doesn't fit so good. There's no wrong way to be a gender, and more importantly there's no wrong way to be you.
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OK some things about Greece's Marina Satti results and we're done with this
JK I am not done with Marina I love her but we're done with the circus Marina was in, for another year
So, she is a perfectionist but I hope she will soon understand how much SHE SUCCEEDED. And it will look like a love delirium but no I am not being biased.
Marina Satti got 11th place. Missed Top 10 by one. She was basically killed by the juries.
In the televoting she won 8th place. So she was in the top 10 of all people's votes. She was also 8th in the votes from the Rest of the World, which is a big deal in my opinion.
I won't be mad at the juries because their voting overall made sense in many ways and we were aware that Zari was a not jury-friendly song in any way. It had zurna, it had rap, obviously juries don't go for this stuff. So, it's okay. We knew that.
BUT Marina Satti got 8th - 11th place:
By singing exclusively in the Greek language.
By singing in an entirely Balkan, eastern melody during a year that a lot of the Balkans and East Europe had withdrawn from the contest.
By kinda rapping / reggaetoning, which is generally hated in Eurovision.
By doing exactly her thing, despite knowing how much she would be fought by certain people.
By knowingly choosing the very risky song instead of a ballad and a typical dance song that she also had available as options.
By not trying to be "understood" and get sympathy votes.
By being given a tiny budget from the Greek delegation, much smaller than any previous years including to last year's NQ lame tycoon nephew entry. So GD gave a famous artist like Marina much less money than to those small unknown kids that had gone before her. WTF
By being hated for her song and her (genius) music video and a large percentage of the population writing in English and asking foreigners to not vote for her and blaming her for insulting Greece, Greek culture etc (HINT: No she did not insult it and a blog called gemsofgreece tells you that so relax) and insulting her, her morals, her family, her father's descent and her talent relentlessly for three months
By the unprecedented thing of the freaking SHOWBIZ of the country making openly insulting attacks against her and her song. Like, seriously, there were FAMOUS celebrities going on TV and calling her song "cat vomit", a fashion designer (before her dress choice lol) saying she should go to Eurovision naked because there's no other hope for her to get votes. I am serious. You might say, oh, she must have done something. NO. Guys, no. She has never said or done anything wrong to any celebrity in the country as far as I am aware. She was attacked by musicians, fashion designers, TV shows and honestly nobody knows why. It's a different thing to not like something than to get a polemic position openly as a celebrity against another famous person. This has never happened before, I don't remember anything like this. Celebrities shitting on another artist's effort out of nowhere, especially in advance. To put it simply, now that Marina will have to return to Greece (poor thing), she has good reasons to sue half the country.
By losing her father one month ago.
By getting pretty ill during the semi-final, losing her voice and being administrated medication every three hours.
By suffering chronically from severe anxiety, which is why she refused three prior propositions from the Greek delegation to represent the country.
Well, by receiving a new massive wave of hate from people from or supporting Israel and the Greek government controlled media and press, who all started a fierce campaign against her the last two days before the final. The reason was that she showed intentionally boredom / sleepiness during the time the Israeli contestant was speaking. Make of that what you will, I am only presenting the facts of how her placement was formed here. Many Jewish people
wrote they had voted her in the semi but now they wouldn't. I believe because Israel is an eastern country, probably several people of Jewish descent voted for her and then all those votes were lost. It's no matter, I am just explaining that she would probably otherwise be 7th in the televoting, 10th overall. Here we analyze if Marina succeeded her goal, we don't nitpick for Eurovision's sake.
And as you see, she succeeded. With all the odds against her, with a LOT of people hating her and making her life harder and her effort impossible, with the loss of her father, she succeeded in her vision. Bring back Greek language, the eastern sound and having the world dance with it. Shoutout to Armenia who also succeeded in this and made top 10, the song was a little more conventional. Let's be real, Satti achieved all this with a VERY difficult song. The definition of a difficult song and in a little known language. Nothing else, just congratulations to her and I hope she realises all this and does not let her trademark anxiety and perfectionism get the better of her. Also, she really created an international fan community with this and I think there are good things coming for her in the future :)))))
PS1: Odds had her 8th-10th place but they underestimated the juries and the last day's hate she got. In general odds were not very successful this year.
PS2. No worries Greek and Cypriot televoting exchanged the 12 points again :D
PS3: to the ageist haters who wondered why she looks 20 though she is 38, kitties reach her age and you will be crying to look like her
PS4: Marina’s 8th place in televoting was the best placement since 2013, surpassing Amanda and Stefania with the English jury friendly songs 😃😃😃 Greek delegation take a bloody hint
#greece#eurovision#marina satti#good thing this is over#now i am ready for her new lp#and her collaboration with Nemo#wooohoooo#greek culture#greeks#greek people#greek music#greek facts#coals of greece
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TEENAGE DREAM
Chapter 1 - Of Broken Hearts And Teenage Guts
Pairings: Main-Joel Miller x Ofc/Reader/You (reader has a name)
Secondary- Joel x Tess / Mentioned- Ellie x Riley, Tommy x Maria
Fic Warnings: 30/y Age Difference, Joel is 48, Reader is 18, Underage for Ch1 (Legal in the State of Texas), Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Anal Play, Use of Sex Toys, Outdoor Sex, Squirting, Sex Tapes, Infidelity, Rough Sex, Spitting, Face Slapping, DV, Unwanted Pregnancy, Spanking, Daddy Kink, Anal Sex, Rimming (Both M/F and F/M), Light-Skinned Ofc, Athletic/Curvy Ofc
Word Count: 3.3K
AU-No Cordyceps Outbreak/Sarah is alive
BFD!Joel Miller
Joel Miller is having an affair with his daughters’ best friend.
Cover image by @beskarandblasters
Banners and dividers by @saradika-graphics
It started in the way things like this start you suppose, almost by accident.
It started with a soft touch, firm hands, and a deep need for protection, care, and want.
It started on a rainy night when you got to their house looking to spend a weekend eating junk food and having two shoulders to cry on, a weekend of girl nights and rom-coms and trash-talking the boy who just dumped you.
It started when you forgot Sarah and Ellie were away with their mom, and Mr. Miller opened his door to you standing on his porch soaking wet and crying.
It started with Joel Miller letting you in and closing the door behind you.
You're staring at a white scuff mark on an otherwise perfectly pristine soft blue wall, your breathing harsh still, you can feel your chest expanding against the mattress with each panting exhale, and there's sweat running down your back that's starting to turn sticky thanks to the night breeze coming in from the half-open window.
"Fuuuuck!" You hear him groan and feel him start to move, you dare not even turn and look at him so you just stare at that scuff mark on the wall right next to his dresser, and try not to think about what you just did.
"This never happened", he says, and you feel the bed give way with the shift of his body as he gets up, you listen as he walks and the bedroom door opens and closes, and you still can't move.
You can still feel him all over you, his hands running over every inch of your body, his beard scratching at the skin of your belly, his lips against your neck after he flipped you over, that dull ache from where he entered you, and the telltale sign of what he left behind dripping down into a puddle that's becoming uncomfortable under your hips.
You close your eyes and can't decide if you should laugh or cry, it all happened so fast, and you still haven't processed that you are here, that he did do that to you, that you wanted it so badly, that you begged him for it.
It all happened so fast.
Joel frowns, looking down at his watch, still the same one Sarah had fixed for him so many years ago, it reads 10:51 pm, too late for anyone to come knocking at his door.
He puts down the tumbler of whiskey he had been indulging in after a hard day of work, "Fucking Tommy" he groans, ready with some choice words for his little brother who is probably already drunk and had forgotten again that he'd moved to his own apartment a month ago.
"I'm coming! Stop knocking you fucking idio... Oh!" He stops then, taking a moment to look at the girl standing on his porch, face red and blotchy and clothes heavy with rain water, shivering and looking like she'd just run there. "Jenna? It's 11 pm, sweetie, what are you doing here?" he asks, a little confused as to why his daughters' best friend is knocking on his door so late at night.
She sniffles and looks around, seeming confused herself "Mr. Miller... I..is.." She sobs a little, using the cuff of her hoodie to wipe at her face "Are Ellie and Sarah home?" she sniffles again, looking up at Joel with big sad eyes.
"Oh honey, no, they're at their mom's this weekend", Joel tells her, still lost on what to do. He can't see any cars he doesn't recognize parked down the street and the way she's breathing all labored, and shivering, it does seem like she genuinely actually RAN there.
Joel sighs and opens the door fully "Why don't you come in, we can call your parents" He steps back a little so she can walk inside, closing the door behind her after checking the street one more time.
You can hear the sound of running water down the hall. Mr. Miller, "Call me Joel", washing away what he clearly feels was a mistake off of his skin. You finally roll over, gathering the crumpled-up, thin green sheet to cover up your body as you sit up against his headboard.
You wince, the dull ache deep inside you turning into sharp pain for a second before dissipating back into that strange feeling of emptiness. And you feel a little dirty, a little weird too, almost like your skin fits too tight on your own body, like it's not yours.
Everything smells like him and you and sex and a little bit like dirt and wet grass. You lean over the edge of the bed looking around for your clothes and you groan when you remember they're not there. You close your eyes and curse at yourself, at your stupidity, your neediness, and how easy it all was.
How could you have done this to them? "This never happened, ok" You whisper his words back and nod as if saying it means that it's real and erased and you're clean again and Ellie and Sarah never, ever need to know.
You gather yourself up still wrapped in his green sheet and tail it out of the bedroom and down the hall, past the bathroom where you can still hear the water running, and down the stairs. Where you know your clothes are, somewhere in between the laundry room and... everywhere else.
"Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes", Joel says, looking at the poor girl still shivering and trying to calm down her crying. He gestures towards the laundry room with his head "I've got some clean towels down here, you can take your hoodie off and I'll make you some tea while you call home ok?"
"I can't go home" She whines, following after him, still sniffling a little.
Joel stops and turns back to look at her, a worried frown etched on his face “What do you mean?” he asks, concerned.
Jenna bites her lip looking up at him, face flushed. And he has passing thought, that she’s so fucking pretty. He shakes it off as she speaks. "I lied to my parents” She pouts “They wanted me to go camping and I told them Ellie and Sarah had invited me to spend the weekend, I..." She blushes, looking down at the floor and pulling on the sleeves of her hoodie, wrapping her arms around herself "I was supposed to be with my boyfriend" She whimpers, her voice cracking again looking up at Joel with those big brown eyes, red-rimmed and filling up with tears threatening to spill again. "He broke up with me" She breaks down again, sobbing.
And Joel? He just reacts. He gathers her up in his arms and makes soft soothing sounds "Shhh, It’s ok" he says, holding her close to his body just as he would his own daughters. His cheek is pressed against the top of her head and he can feel her shallow breathing against his chest. His shirt getting just as soaked as her clothes are. "I'm so sorry Mr. Miller" she mumbles, warm breath against his neck. "It's ok sweet girl, it's gonna be ok" he keeps saying over and over again.
You start picking up your clothes, blushing, all the way from your panties halfway down the stairs, your bra and his boxers just a few steps away, to the living room where the rest of your clothes lie in a pile, along with his just on the edge of the couch that he had pushed you into.
You remember fisting the back of his shirt and the way his scent was almost overwhelming. His hands, big and firm and safe, and the way you dragged your nose over his throat pushing up on your tip toes and whispering against his cheek once again "I'm sorry Mr.Miller". It was mostly a blur after that.
You know it was you. Your lips against the corner of his mouth then full-on against his. You know it was you because he was the one who stopped, you know it was you who started it, yes. But it was him who didn't let you go.
You know it was you because you wanted it so badly, and he didn't let you just take it. He took too.
Joel is startled, pulling his face back, eyes wide.
"Hey..." he starts to say, only to be interrupted again by your lips crashing back against his, and your voice so soft and still shaky whispering "Please" another small kiss and your face so close and your body rising up against his "Please" another whisper and something just snaps in him, he kisses you back so hard he ends up pressing you against the wall.
Your lips are so soft and plump and YOUNG, you taste like candy and coconut lip balm and you’re so fucking eager. Your hands are running up the back of his head, his own almost reacting of their own accord going down to hold your waist and squeeze your hips, and palm your ass, so fucking perky and tight. He doesn’t know what to do, where to touch, what to grab. He wants all of it, all of YOU, at once.
"Fuck" he groans, breaking the kiss only to tilt his head down and latch on to your neck.
"Please Mr. Miller" You moan, your hands going to the front of his shirt almost ripping it open to push your fingers against his collarbone and behind his neck, pulling him down into a deep kiss again, sucking his lip into your mouth and biting down. Your teeth drag over his flesh.
He’s harder than he’s ever been.
"Jesus" Joel pants, he knows it's going to happen, he wants it to happen.
In less than two seconds he has your hoodie open and is pushing it down your arms onto the floor, a small puddle forming around the heavy fabric. The t-shirt you’re wearing underneath is equally soaked through and he can see the hint of a lacy pink bra and large, soft breasts. "Fuck!" he groans again taking your mouth in another deep kiss and pulling you along towards the couch. He pushes your hot little body up against the back of it, your legs kicking out as you try to kick off your shoes.
"Mr. Miller" You moan against his ear, and it feels like a fucking prayer. Blunt nails scratch at the exposed skin peeking out from his shirt at the top of his back and drag their way down to the hem, pulling at it again. "Please" you groan almost desperate. His own hands going under your t-shirt and pushing up, his thumbs dragging against your not-quite-flat stomach and sides as his palms glide up your soft, so fucking soft, back.
"Lift your arms up, baby girl" Joel whispers against your lips, pulling back a little to just look at you as he rips the shirt off completely, dropping it to the floor at his feet. "Shiiit" he whispers breathlessly, looking down at that pink lacy bra and those gorgeous fleshy breasts, cupping each one and moaning out loud at how well they fill up his hands, he squeezes and rubs the tiny peaks of your hardened nipples with his thumbs, pushing his forehead against yours "You're so fucking beautiful" he groans.
You moan in response, your eyes rolling back a little and your arms going back around his neck "Feels so good Mr.Miller" you groan, finally getting your shoes off and wrapping your legs around him, kissing any and every part of his skin that you can reach, still tugging and pulling at his shirt.
"Joel", he says, finally reaching down and almost ripping off a button in his haste to tear his shirt off "Call me Joel". His hands fall to grip your ass as he lifts you off the couch and walks just a few steps away, his mouth devouring yours again pushing you up against the wall.
"Joel" You pant in between kisses, your hands cupping the sides of his face pushing him to look at you. Your eyes blown wide, almost dazed.
"Fuck me, Joel" It’s the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever heard, such a pretty voice.
Such a sinful mouth.
Your jeans are still damp when you pick them up from where they lay crumpled up in the middle of the living room floor. You can still feel the burn of the small scratches on your back from where he held you against the wall not even an hour ago.
You hear the water shutting off and look down at yourself in your lacy pink underwear. And you can see your t-shirt just behind the couch and your hoodie peeking around the hallway. You could just get dressed and go, call some other friend, and tell them you need a place to crash for the night, you could just walk away.
But… you don't. You can't.
You don't want to feel this way. Like what you did was such a bad thing. You don't want to leave with the memory of a bedroom wall instead of his face, instead of his eyes. Because you didn't do anything wrong, you decide, not really. You gather up both his and your clothes, his dumb green sheet, and all the courage you can muster. You march back up the stairs.
You refuse to walk out of this house feeling ashamed.
The carpet is rough against his knees, and the steps aren't nearly wide enough to be comfortable but he doesn't care, your back is arched and your legs are spread wide over his shoulders. And you taste like he's a fucking teenager again, sweet and bitter and perfect.
The soft cotton of your panties is still clutched in one of his hands while the other keeps you open. His tongue lapping at that little nub right above your core and his nose is flush with a perfectly trimmed little line of pubic hair.
"Fuck, Joel" You’re mewling now, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair, your legs twitching and your belly tight "Oh my god!" You almost shout as he breaches you with a thick finger. He pushes in, firm and relentless all the way up to the last knuckle, his lips around that little nub now as you clamp down around him, so warm and tight.
"That's it, baby, so fucking sweet" He pulls out and pushes back in again, letting your underwear drop onto the step below your body, and bringing his other hand up to spread your beautiful pussy open, looking down at that tight little bright pink hole. So lovely, wet and shiny, and sooooo fucking young.
" Wanna eat you so bad baby, wanna stay here forever" he groans lowering his head and taking you back into his mouth, sucking harder now, finger pushing in and out getting you ready to take another one.
"Yes, fuck yeah, Jo... Joel" You moan spreading your legs as far as they'll go wedged in between the walls of his tiny stairwell. He's pushing two fingers in now, and you open up so well that he almost feels jealous to know that someone has already been there before. That your body’s already been taught this kind of touch.
The grip on his hair gets tighter still, almost painful and your heat grips his fingers like he hasn't felt a woman do in way too long. Your hips are twitching and he feels as you start to drip all over his hand, all over his beard.
"Come on baby, come for me"
"We had sex!" You say as you storm back into the room.
He's naked, a towel wrapped around his waist, his head down in resignation as he sits on the edge of his bed almost like he was waiting for you. "We had sex Joel" you repeat, standing there probably looking silly dressed in nothing your underwear with an armful of dirty clothes wrapped on a dirty sheet.
"It happened", You tell him. You say to him, and to the room that bore witness, the room where he took you and where he is now trying to take it back.
You feel a knot in your throat but you've already cried enough tonight for a stupid boy. You're not about to cry for a stupid man.
"Can you please look at me?" You beg almost, letting the sheet and your clothes drop down to the floor, stepping over them and up to him, between his legs. You cradle his face in your hands, but he’s still not looking at you.
"I didn't do anything wrong" Your voice breaks and his head snaps up, a look of so much regret on his face.
"I did!" He says looking up at you, his hands clutching the mattress like he's forcing himself not to move them, not to touch you. "I'm the one who did something wrong" he almost sounds like he's in pain and you're still holding his face and all you want to do is make him see that it's ok, that you wanted him to do it. That you still want him to.
"You didn't!" you drop to your knees almost eager, and you pull his face down towards yours and kiss him. Just a peck, close-mouthed and earnest "You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do..." you bite your lip and you try and say it with courage, that little word that he kept calling you that made you feel so good "Baby"
He snorts and you almost balk at how stupid it sounds coming out of your mouth but, instead, you laugh and he laughs and it's not awkward or dirty or sad anymore. It just is, and now you both have to deal with it.
You smile at him once you've both stopped laughing and kiss him again. He kisses you back just as softly and you decide to let you both off the hook. You're not naive, and you know he's not something you actually get to have.
"Thank you, Mr.Miller”.
You say it softly, and he almost looks surprised. You let go of him then and stand up taking a couple of steps back. "Is it ok if I crash here? I promise I'll figure something out in the morning", you tell him.
He nods "Yeah", he says “ Yeah, of course”, and stands up. He walks over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of grey sweatpants and a clean t-shirt from a drawer "You can sleep in Sarah's room". He hands you the clean clothes, and just like that, it’s over. You nod at him and walk out.
And you know he understands.
You don't have to feel dirty and he doesn't have to feel guilty, it happened. No one else needs to know, but it happened.
The bed groans under your combined weight, the headboard slamming ever so slightly against the wall with each push of his hips against yours, you're on your knees, your hands against the wall and your ass bouncing with every thrust.
Your heat around his cock feels like heaven, a teenage wet dream come alive. His name on your lips sounds like nothing he's ever heard before, and when he spills inside of you it’s like he's born again. Nothing matters then.
He knows what he's doing isn't right, you're 17, and the only reason he knows you is because his daughters are your best friends. You go to high school together for Christ's sake!
He has a fucking girlfriend that's going to wonder where the scratches on his back came from. She'll ask about the bruises on his knees and the purple marks around his neck. He doesn't care.
There's sweat dripping down the curve of your back and you're clenching around him, soaked in your pleasure along with him, and he knows it's wrong.
But God does it feel so fucking right.
It's the peak before the crash, and he knows the crash is coming fast. So he holds you tight, gives you everything he’s got.
#Mia's fic#Teenage Dream#The Las Of Us#The Last of Us Fanfiction#Joel Miller#Joel Miller Fic#Joel Miller Smut#Joel Miller x Reader#Joel Miller x You#Joel Miller x Ofc#Best Friend's Dad#18+
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