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formulafics · 3 months ago

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BEST FRIEND’S BROTHER (is the one for me)

SCENARIO: in which reader experiences nighttime anxiety, and finds solace in their best friends brother.

STARRING: GN!Reader, LN4, OP81, CL16, LH44, GR63, MV1, FC43, LS2, & MS47

WARNING(S): anxiety mentions, anxiety traits (such as fiddling or skin picking, self doubt, etc.)

AUTHORS NOTE: self indulgent fic who cheered? also maybe the start of a series; just a variety of scenarios regarding drivers as your best friends brother? 👀 And, as per always, shoutout to @renarots for always supplying the ideas when my brain refuses to 😼

Conversations with Lando have always been frequent, and you’ve always had chemistry, the two of you.

Lando knew he was too far gone when he realized he was thinking too much about the way you clearly had a crush on him, that went beyond the line of simply being amused by your infatuation with him. He knew he was no longer just basking in the confidence boost of that when he began unintentionally thinking of you in his room, on his bed, in his arms—

He’d recalled your anxiety. You mentioned it once during a late night talk with him, fueled by sleep deprivation. He could relate to it. Maybe he didn’t have the same anxiety, but his mind always raced at night, too loud for him to sleep at a decent time.

He’d often hoped you’d come to him, that maybe he could be a safe place for you. So, when you finally come knocking on his door…

He was fast asleep. His feet carry him groggily to the door, because for once, he’d been able to sleep. However, when he sees you, he’s wide awake.

Lando smiles, just slightly, then his brows furrow with concern and said smile falls when he sees your distressed expression. “What’s wrong?” Asks his raspy, sleepy voice, and your heart flutters, mind momentarily distracted from worry. However, his question then processes, and you sigh.

“Anxiety.” You respond simply, and he nods understandingly. You watch as he yawns, lifts his hands to his eyes to rub them, before he steps back to let you into his room. It’s cleaner than you’d expected, his cologne wafting faintly through the air. LED lights line his bed frame, a dim red glow surrounding his large, incredibly inviting bed. It’s nice in here, and you almost feel guilty for finding so much solace and intrigue in Flo’s brother, but you also know she’s contently asleep in her room. She needs her sleep, you decide, pushing away your guilt.

Lando lets you explore, watching from his doorway. He quietly shuts the door, then walks to his bed, plopping down on the edge.

“What’s got you worked up, then?” He asks, after a few moments of quiet, and when you turn to see his hazel eyes staring at you, sleepy and soft, but also concerned, your heart sinks in a way that’s somehow overwhelming and delightful at once.

So, you explain your anxieties. The rational and irrational fears, the thoughts that keep you up — and when he realizes you’re actively spiraling, he gets up and steps towards you, reaching out to gently brush his knuckles against your arm.

“Hey,” he hushes you, smiling warmly when you look at him. “You’re okay,” he assures you. “It’s okay to be anxious,” he adds, rubbing your arm now. “What makes it better?” he asks gently, and you huff a small laugh.

“You.” You say, a small, amused grin on your lips, as your cheeks warm. He laughs lightly, shaking his head, as he lets his fingers gently grasp your hand. “Be serious,” he retorts, though there’s a glimmer in his eyes that assures you that he liked the flirty comment.

“I don’t know what makes it better,” you say honestly, gently grabbing his hand, looking down at your hands. His fingers rub your palm, yours caressing his in return, as he slowly laces your fingers. He hums quietly, acknowledging your words.

He looks down at your hands, too, as they intertwine, and he squeezes yours, his other hand finding your free one. He guides your arms around himself, and then lets go of your hands, wrapping his own arms around your shoulders.

The sigh you let out, and the way you relax into him says it all. He smiles, resting his cheek against your hair.

“Let’s start with this, hm? If it doesn’t work, I have other ways I can help you,” he says. You both realize the unintentional suggestive tone in his words, and it makes the pair of you laugh.

Shaking your head against him, you squeeze him gently. “Yeah. Let’s start with this.”

“Worst case, there’s always Oscar.”

That’s what Hattie told you, regarding your anxiety. If all else failed, you could go to Oscar…yeah, no. You’d thought about it more than you’d like to admit.

You liked to imagine that he’d hug you and console you. You could hear his soft voice assuring you that it’s okay, that you can always come to him, but you’d also conjured up a more harsh alternative, being that he would think of you as dramatic or a burden.

Which is why you currently stand outside of his door, in the hallway, reluctant to knock on his door. He’s asleep. You’re certain. The lights are off, none seeping through the cracks of his door. It silent in his room, safe from the very faint sounds of his breathing.

The longer you stand there, the more you spiral. Tears brim your eyes, and just as you turn on your heel to walk away, you hear rustling. His feet hit the ground, and you hear the click of what you’re assuming is a lamp. You glance back, seeing a soft golden glow peek through the cracks of his door, and your heart leaps, the tears still in your eyes.

Then, his steps are quiet, but near, and before you can properly scurry off, his door opens. His eyes are squinted, brows furrowed. His hair is tousled in a way that makes you yearn to run your fingers through it. Then, you meet his gaze.

By the time you lift your hands to wipe your eyes, Oscar’s already noticed your distressed, near-tears state.

His brows furrowed even closer, and his lips part to speak. “Are you alright?” he asks lowly, accent deliciously coating his sleepy voice.

You blink a few times, before responding, your tongue spilling the words before you can stop them.

“I’m just really anxious and Hattie wouldn’t wake up, so I was gonna see if you were up, but obviously you were asleep, so I was just gonna leave, and I mean, you scare me a little bit anyways—“

“I scare you?” He asks, interrupting your ramble. He chuckles breathily, shaking his head slightly. “I’m laid back, not mean.” He says, making you laugh nervously.

Oscar just smiles, a small one, as his eyes scan your features. He sighs softly, not an irritated sigh, and looks over his shoulder, perhaps checking the time. “I can’t promise to be a good helper, but you’re welcome to my room and company anytime.”

Oscar, in that moment, knows you’re not just his sister’s friend. Not when he’s quite content with losing sleep, if it means helping you in any way.

Days are fine. Days are fun. Especially with Arthur Leclerc dragging you around Monaco, but then comes nighttime. The anxiety had been rolling in since dinner, waves of dread regarding the battle that is yourself against sleeping. You’d been sure that you’d be comfy in the Leclerc home. You’re very close with Arthur, his family is always welcoming, but as you lay on the couch in his living room, your heart thumps against your ribcage.

You stare through the sheer curtains of the window, seeing moonlight seep through them, illuminating the room just slightly. You glance at the TV — perhaps the distraction would help, but you choose against it, too worried about disturbing others.

By the time your breathing is fast, and you feel your eyes burn as they do before tears come, footsteps sound. They’re faint, soft. Then, you hear the sound of a chair on the floor, a quiet scraping sound. Then, a padding sound. *Leo.*

The small, golden-haired puppy scurries across the floor, and if that wasn’t confirmation enough as to who the other footsteps belong to, the sound of the piano in the music room is all you need.

You sit up, letting your feet hit the floor, as you lean down to pet Leo’s small head, running your fingers through his silky coat. Despite the anxiety you felt moments ago, the soothing sound of the piano, and the overwhelming cuteness of the dog under your hand is enough to distract you.

When Leo wanders to his water bowl, you watch, then look to the door of the room that you know Charles is in. You hadn’t taken him for an insomniac, but you can definitely imagine him now, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes, likely in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, slender fingers dancing over white and black keys…

Charles is a sweetheart. He’s always been incredibly kind to you, in a way that makes you wonder if it’s special treatment. It is.

As you think about *that*, rather than your anxiety, you find yourself slowly standing, and walking to the music room. Pushing the door open, you’re met with Charles’ backside. watching as he plays the piano. It feels too domestic for a moment, too peaceful, and when he looks over his shoulder, the jolt of his body implies you’d startled him.

Laughing quietly, you smile apologetically. “I’m sorry,” You say quietly, and he shakes his head, spinning around on the bench.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, and you tilt your head, eyes narrowing with curiosity. Maybe he just made an educated guess, but there’s a certain look on his face, like maybe he knew you were anxious— did he?

“Arthur told me,” Charles says, as if he could read your thoughts. He smiles sheepishly, avoiding your gaze. “He mentioned it, when he told us you’d be coming with him,” he clarifies, and you nod understandingly.

“What about you?” You ask, meeting his gaze. He holds yours, long lashes casting a faint shadow onto his cheeks. “I couldn’t sleep either,” he muses simply.

If only you knew he was planning this, that he was seizing an opportunity to gain your attention.

Lewis rarely stays up late. He prioritizes his performance on track, and no one works well under a lack of sleep. That being said, the man is still a night owl, so when his schedule allows, he happily stays up a bit later than usual.

It’s past midnight as he sits on the leather couch in the spacey living room, his heels propped on the coffee table, and his laptop rested on his thighs. His eyes are narrowed with concentration— and the inevitable sleepiness washing over himself — as his fingers move across the keyboard, quiet clacks sounding with each word typed out.

His airpods are in, and Roscoe is curled up next to him, sleeping contently. The house is quiet, but your mind is far from that.

You lay in the spare bedroom, eyes fixated on the ceiling, watching the fan go round-and-round. You’d always figured you’d ’grow out of’ your anxiety, and in some ways, you had learned to manage it better, but you still have those moments where it drowns you, and you can feel yourself slowly slipping into that.

Your chest is heavy, and each moment of calm in your brain is combatted by a rush of worry.

Letting out a soft breath, you sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you’d been nestled into. You slide your hoodie over your head, grab your phone, and head to the door. Maybe fresh air and a different view would help your mind relax. Everyone’s asleep, you could just have a moment to yourself, right?

Lewis may be immersed in his work, but he doesn’t miss the movement within his peripheral vision. He looks up just in time to see you scurrying into the kitchen, your sock clad feet quiet on the smooth, hardwood floor.

You hadn’t expected the man to be there, so when you made it to the bottom of the stairs, finding him on the couch, you immediately went for the kitchen. Standing in the somewhat private space, you sigh, shaking your head at the way your heart is racing for a reason unrelated to anxiety now.

Who doesn’t find Lewis Hamilton attractive, at least a little bit? You figured your “crush” on him was just because he’s conventionally attractive, but being in the same vicinity as him, you’ve always felt a pull towards him.

You grab a glass from one of the cupboards and pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. He wouldn’t mind if you sat with him, would he? Your brows furrow as you debate that— would he let you in his company just to avoid being seen as rude? Would that be worse than being flat out told no?

Meanwhile, Lewis is wondering if it’s his place to check in on you. He’d been amused at the way you seemed startled by his presence, but also didn’t miss the nervousness you seemed to exude.

Before he can make any further decisions, you come out of the kitchen. His brown eyes flicker to you, following your form as you walk back through the living room. He cocks a brow as you slow, as if to stop, then keep walking, then pause again at the stairs.

“I don’t bite—“

“Can I sit with you?—“

He laughs with you, as you’d both spoken at the same time. You meet his eyes, and his warm smile makes your heart skip a beat.

“You wanna sit with me?” he repeats your words, and you nod slowly. “I just…get anxious, at night, and company might help,” You explain.

Immediately, a look of understanding washes over his face, and he nods. “Come on,” he encourages gently, and he can’t help but just grin when you choose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, just next to his legs. He has to resist the urge to reach out and pet your hair, his fingers twitching over his keyboard.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks you, partially to distract his own mind. He meets your gaze as you look over your shoulder, his eyes staring into yours in a way that makes it hard to maintain eye contact.

“It’s a lot,” You muse, and he shrugs, taking out his airpods, a smile gracing his lips.

“I have time and patience.”

George is pretty serious about his schedule. From what he chooses to snack on (*cough* him asking “would an athlete snack on chocolate?” *cough*) to his workouts, and right down to his sleep schedule, he rarely goes off that.

So, George isn’t your best option, you rule out, as you sit on the air mattress next to your best friend’s bed, trying to control your shaky, uneven breathing. He’s fast asleep, probably has some busy day tomorrow, and even if he’d be polite enough to give you his time, he’d definitely steer clear of it in the future. Anyone hates the idea of being a bother to another.

Looking up above your friend’s bed, you find her asleep, curled away from you, shoulders shifting as she melts further into the bed.

With a heavy sigh, you grasp your phone and get up, quietly leaving the bedroom. If nothing else, some fresh air might do you some good.

You find your place in the almost luxurious lounge area of their home, curled up on a small couch, staring down at the ground as your mind races. However, the sound of a door opening, and footsteps following, makes you look up.

George.

He sees you as he rounds the corner, and even on his sleepy way to the bathroom, he still looks well put together.

He gives a friendly, playful smile. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite, am I right?”

Of course this man would make a dad joke.

You manage a breathy laugh, more of a huff, watching as he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Meanwhile, George can’t help but think a little harder than he might need to about your reaction. Typically, you’d banter with him, be it by making fun of his stupid jokes, or telling one that’s just as bad, and tonight, you’d just seemed off. Not to mention, he’d found it odd that you weren’t in the bedroom…not that it’s his business, but he can be a nosy man at times, and suddenly, he’s worried.

As he comes out of the bathroom, his gaze lands on you, and then meets yours when you look back up.

“What?” you ask, brows furrowing. You figured he wouldn’t pick up on your state, especially with you trying to mask it for his sake.

“You alright?” He asks, accent clear as day, as if he hadn’t most likely been sleeping peacefully moments ago.

“Uhm,” you pause. Should you tell him, or just let him be on his way? Is it more annoying to leave him wondering? He probably doesn’t even care that much—

“We may not be close, but I’m always here if you need anything,” he says, voice kind, the smile on his lips equally as polite. After all, you’d been friends with his sister for years now, and it’s not like you’d never spoken to him.

So, you give in. With a reluctant sigh, you watch as he walks down the stairs and stands in front of you, tilting his head, as if to encourage you to go on.

“…I get anxiety,” you finally say, feeling a bit ridiculous to be keeping him up for this. “Anxiety?” he echoes, “about?”

“Everything,” you laugh, shrugging. “My brain just gets really active at night, and I tend to spiral into bad thoughts, but most of it’s irrational, and i’ll be fine—“

“What can I do?” he asks, as he looks at you with worried eyes. “To help, I mean,” he expounds.

You blink a few times, a bit taken aback at how eagerly he’s jumped to that. “I feel better talking to someone,” you admit, and he hums in acknowledgment, nodding.

“Is it alright if I sit, then?” he asks, gesturing to the space on the couch next to you, and takes a seat when you give him permission.

While it takes a few minutes of silence, he eventually gets talking, and you find that despite how you imagined a situation like this going, it’s vastly different. He’s patient, talkative in the right way, and a good listener.

So, when you eventually drift off in your spot, after George was rambling about something you truthfully didn’t have much interest in, he smiled to himself, laid a blanket over you, and took himself back to bed.

Safe to say, you weren’t a bother to him. At least, you can’t imagine you were, when he brings you breakfast the following morning, and offers to take you out for coffee.

Max frequently stays up later than he should. He likes how peaceful and quiet things are at night. No one’s awake to be in his space, he feels most comfortable by himself, and it’s a great time to invite himself to the driving simulator without being interrupted, or forced to share.

He doesn’t bother to check the time. It’s late, he knows that much, as well as the fact that he doesn’t have any reason to be up early later. His hands grip the steering wheel of his sim, eyes fixed ahead on the screen, as he seamlessly takes corner after corner of a track. He’s got a headset on, and no more light than one lamp next to the couch, just enough for him to see his surroundings, but not so much that it’s glaring on the screen.

He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice when you watch him from across the room, peaking out of the hallway. You’d initially been coming out to refill your water, and use the bathroom, trying to power through your anxiety, but now, you’re finding that this is working wonders to soothe your brain. Your eyes flicker from the screen to his face, watching his expressions shift, the way his brows furrow and lips purse slightly…or the way the veins in his forearms move under his skin-

He also doesn’t notice when you set your phone down, then leave, and return with a blanket, and make yourself cozy on the couch. You don’t really want him to know you’re there, anyways. Is this an invasion of his privacy? You briefly wonder, but eventually decide that it’s not like he’s doing anything scandalous, and he’s in the main room of the house anyways.

Max eventually finishes a handful of laps and exits out of that particular track, then leans over the arm of the chair to grab his water bottle, only to then realize that you’re lying there.

His eyes widen, then his brows furrow, and he pulls his headset off, taking in your form. Your stretched out on the couch, blanket laying neatly over your form, and your hands are laying on your stomach. He can tell you didn’t just sit down, and mentally backtracks, trying to remember when he last knew he was alone.

“Well,” he starts, staring at you, looking over the edge of the chair. “What’s this about?” he asks, and you smile slightly. You’d become rather comfortable with Max. He’s a nice guy, always been polite to you, and you always end up sitting next to him when you go out to eat with his family, anyways, so it’s only natural that you learned how you can talk to him.

“Anxiety,” you shrug. “I just like watching you play, and tonight, i’ve learned that it helps my brain quiet down,” you explain.

He hums, nodding slowly. He can understand that, in some way, he supposes. He looks back at the screen, then at you. “Do you want to try?” he asks, gesturing to the sim. “…It would help, maybe? Take your mind off of things?” he suggests.

It always shocks you how considerate he can be, and every time, your heart warms.

Max has good intentions, he does, but fuck does he hate watching other people drive the sim. As he explains (maxplains) the driving to you, and tries not to cringe too hard at the way you handle the car, you find that this is a fantastic distraction. You’re well aware that you’re driving him to insanity, and before you can tease him, your eyes get heavy, and you slowly drift to sleep.

When the car first starts going off track, straight for the barriers, Max thinks you have to be fucking with him…and then he realizes your head is tilted to the side, and you’ve somehow fallen asleep in the damn driving seat.

He spends a lot longer than he’d like to admit being baffled at your actions, before he comes to carefully take apart the arm of the sim, and scoop you out of the seat. He’s a strong guy, and for some reason, the only rational way to go about this, in his mind, was to carry you to bed.

Halfway down the hall, he realizes how much of a hassle it would be to open Victorias door and put you back on the air mattress without waking you and her up, so he just pushes into his own room, lays you in his bed, and tucks you in.

He stares down at you in his bed, a sigh leaving his lips. He wants to be irritated, but more than anything, he’s relieved that you’re clearly in a better state.

Safe to say, he finds it very hard to focus on the sim when he goes back to it.

Franco Colapinto is one of those people that can get along with anyone. He’s fun, talkative, usually good at reading the room, and it’s rare that he doesn’t get on well with someone.

So, it’s only natural that you and him had been well acquainted. However, you’re also one of the lucky people that gets to experience his flirtatiousness. In fact, he’s been flirting since day one, and you’ve been matching his energy the whole time. He loves it, and so do you.

That being said, even though you’re relatively close, and consider him a friend, your anxious mind has convinced you that he flirts with you because it’s fun, rather than because he likes you, even as just a friend. He flirts with everyone, and thus, your brain uses that against you.

Which is why you walk past his room, and down to the living room, where you sit on the couch, looking out of the window, into the beauty of Argentinian greenery that’s currently illuminated by moonlight. You practice your breathing, letting your eyes flutter shut. Your chest only feels a little lighter when you hear footsteps, and look over your shoulder to see Franco there, staring at you with mischievous curiosity, like he’s ready to pop off a flirtatious joke. In any other moment, you’d be just as ready, but right now, you’d rather not.

You don’t speak, unable to curate the correct words to express your feelings in a way that feels right. Fortunately, Franco seems to understand by the look on your face that now isn’t the time to flirt. He holds your gaze, then walks into the kitchen. You refrain from watching him, not wanting to give away your interest in literally anything he does, simply because it’s him.

You hear him grab a glass…then another? Then, it sounds like he’s pouring water into one, before a click sounds, like a kettle.

Within a few minutes, he’s bringing you a mug, and has a glass of water for himself. You raise a brow at him, taking the mug despite your skepticism.

“Franco, I don’t really want to be hopped up on maté right now—“

“Not maté,” he assures you, with a wave of his hand, “it’s to help you relax, amor. I promise.”

You trust him, and the sincere twinkle in his pretty eyes is enough that you’d be convinced even if you didn’t trust him already.

He watches you bring the mug to your lips, and reaches out to guide it slower to your mouth. “It’s hot,” he murmurs, aiding you in taking a sip, watching so attentively. Your chest warms, and you know it’s not just the tea. You’ve seen Franco be gentle, obviously, but this is different, and oh, so divine.

“Why are you still up?” he asks you softly, fingers brushing yours as he retracts his hand.

“Anxiety,” you muse simply, and he nods understandingly, reaching out to rub your arm. He’d only experienced your anxiety once, some time ago when his sister mentioned you were having a hard time, and he’d noticed your shaky hands at the dinner table.

His hand trails up to your hair, and he pets the back of your head, as if to brush away your worries. Rather than fixating on your anxiety, he starts talking about how nice it is to have you around again, and his excitement for the upcoming season. You and him grew up together, in a way, even if you’d been “closer” to his sister.

By the time your tea is half finished and cool, you’re leaning into his side, and he’s gently taking the mug from you, setting it down on the coffee table. He guides you further into his hold, and you comply, letting yourself melt into his warmth, and the sound of his voice continuing to talk to you.

“You think I flirt with you for no reason?” Franco asks, laughing quietly, as if that’s unbelievable. “Franco, you flirt with anything that has legs and speaks a language you understand,” you grumble into his shoulder, making the man huff quietly. “Ay, dios mìo,” he murmurs, resting his cheek on your head. “Maybe it doesn’t seem that way, but I flirt with you differently,” he explains quietly, “and I flirt with you because I want to, because I like you.”

If you weren’t half asleep, you’d pry into that response. Instead, you let yourself heart feel content with the knowledge that you’re more than what you’d managed to convince yourself of.

Throughout the night, you learn that banter isn’t the only thing that comes easy to you two. You talk and talk, various topics coming naturally, and by the time you’re both drifting to sleep, the sun is peeking through the window. And, in due time, you’d be found curled up on the couch together, confirming everyone else’s suspicions.

Logan’s schedule is all over the place. Some nights, he’s out by 9 pm, and others, he’s unable to rest until early morning. Tonight is one of those insufferable ones where he’s tossed and turned, and not one position is comfortable enough to stay in for more than five minutes, his bed is getting too warm, even though he’s thrown off the blankets and stripped his shirt off, and he’s tired, but not sleepy.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs to himself, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, trying to clear his mind enough to relax. As he lowers them, his head begins to throb, and he sighs heavily. Of course he’d get a headache now.

As he sits up and reaches for his water bottle, a timid knock sounds on his door. “Just a sec,” he says just loud enough for you to hear, and takes a few gulps of water, before he gets up. He slides his shirt back on before opening the door, and even though it’s not necessarily crazy that you’re at his door, it still takes him aback. He hadn’t really thought about who it would be.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, when he notices your distressed features, immediately dropping his own frustration.

“Not really,” you murmur, fiddling with your hands, picking at the skin around your nails. “I’m just having a really anxious night, and I can’t sleep,” you explain.

Logan had always been a sweetheart. He’s polite and respectful, always the type to open doors for you out of habit, the kind of guy you could always go to if you needed it. Which is why you’re coming to him now. You’d known he was up, after hearing him shuffling in his room, and the opportunity seemed to present itself to you.

The man stares at you for a moment, pressing his lips together as he contemplates how to go about this predicament. He looks back at his room. It’s not messy, but it’s not clean either. He needs to do laundry, has a few pairs of shoes here and there that should be in their rack in his closet, and of course his bed is a clear representation of his inability to rest. He doesn’t exactly want to invite you into his space. If it’s stressing him out, he wouldn’t want to have you there, and risk making your troubles worse.

“Would a drive make you feel better?” he asks, looking back to you, blue eyes meeting yours. “A drive?” you echo curiously.

“Yeah, like…the suns gonna be up in a few hours,” he shrugs, “we could go to the beach, grab some breakfast or something,” he thinks aloud, and he speaks almost hesitantly, like he’s scared that he’s suggesting the wrong thing.

Meanwhile, your heart skips a beat with excitement, and you nod. “Yeah, yes— if that’s not an issue for you?” you ask, brows knitting with a new concern that this is an inconvenience for him.

“No, no,” he shakes his head adamantly, grabbing his car keys off of his dresser. “I can’t sleep either,” he assures you, offering a small smile, and the tiredness in his eyes says it all.

Thus, you join him for a long car ride. He drives smoothly through Floridian streets, giving you the time to talk about your struggles, should you want to. He shares his own, as if to help you feel more comfortable, and after some time, he offers you the aux chord.

As the sun starts to come up, he drives to the beach, and you both sit down on cool sand, shoulders together. Waves roll just to your feet before retracting, the sound soothing. The sun slowly arises, shining down on the both of you.

You let your instincts take over, and rest your head on his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as you soak up the gentle warmth of the morning sun. Logan sighs contently, and rests his cheek against your head, as if to assure you that you’re fine where you are, with your head on his shoulder.

You grew up on the Schumacher ranch. Being family friends and having a love for the work, you’ve been helping since you were a child, and now spend a majority of your time as a ranch hand, helping take care of things. You were best friends with Gina as a child — still are — and likely would have been just as close with Mick then, if it weren’t for him being away for races most of the time.

Now that he’s back home more often, you’ve been able to get closer with him, your relationship bordering on more than friends, but not quite a couple. Everyone else sees it, though, and you think about it too often to not want it, truthfully.

You’ve also always struggled with anxiety. You’ve got an active mind, and working yourself from sun up to sundown has always kept the irrational worry at bay. However, recently, for whatever reason, it’s kicked back up, and tonight has been particularly bad — the worst in a while.

So, after tossing and turning, you get up and head out to the stables. You check on the horses, even if you know they likely don’t need to be checked on, and as you round the corner, you find Mick sitting on the ground, hand on the mane of a foal.

Huffing a small laugh as he meets your gaze and smiles, you tilt your head playfully. “It’s past your bedtime, Micky,” you hum, making the man laugh gently.

He checks his wrist, an imaginary watch, and raises his brow, looking up at you, “it’s also past your bedtime,” he teases back. “What’s up?” he then follows up, making you sigh.

“Just anxiety. Nothing fun, unfortunately,” you muse, taking a seat in front of him. You admire the young colt next to Mick, a small smile forming on your lips as the cool air greets your skin, and you feel momentarily comforted by surroundings you’re so fond of. The ranch, nice weather, the horses, and undeniably, Mick.

“Awe,” he frowns sympathetically, nudging his boot against yours as if to comfort you, and it works. He’s not sure what to say, how to make it better, but the fact that you’re smiling, even if only a little, makes him feel better. “How have things been?” he asks, leading you to walk him through just that.

He’s stared at you as you rundown the ranch gossip, the ranch hands that have come and gone, some wanting to stir up drama, some wanting to put their nose where it doesn’t belong. You tell him that you’ve been following his races, that you and Gina watch them together.

“Gina misses you more than she’d ever admit to you,” you hum, making Mick chuckle, smiling fondly at that thought. They’d always been fairly close, close as siblings can be. “Not to make it about me, but i’ve missed you too,” you add, making Mick’s smile wider.

“Yeah?” he inquires, nudging your boot once again. “You can always text me, or call, you know that, right?” he asks, and you honestly hadn’t thought about that.

“I want you to, actually,” he adds. “It would be good to hear from you more…I miss you too.” He muses, and by now, you’re not so worried about anything, and far more focused on the knowledge that your feelings for Mick are definitely not one sided.

THANK YOU FOR READING! requests are open for any drivers written above, and i do headcanons, written fics, text fics, and smaus, as well as any reader.

I appreciate your support and time. 💌

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joemama-2 · 6 months ago

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a dead end | masterlist

༺♰༻ gojo x fem reader

𓉸♱𓉸 synopsis: you were a star under stadium lights, gojo satoru a savior in sterile halls. now, the world rots, and survival is your only stage. amid the relentless dead and the horrors of the living, an unsteady bond forms—but trust is as fragile as life itself. in the shadows of ruin, love and death walk hand in hand. which will claim you first?

༺♰༻ tags/warnings: death, angst, violence, smut, cannibalism, murder, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse, crazy people, reader is a little bitchy at first, character development, torture, guns, weapons, alcohol, drugs, medical talk here and there, research talk, mentions of a leaked sextape, bullying, betrayal, lying, love, surgeon! satoru, cheerleader! reader, small age gap

chapter 1: the start of the end

chapter 2: keep going

chapter 3: one step at a time

chapter 4: stay on your toes

chapter 5: new crew, who dis?

chapter 6: new truths

chapter 7:

#yallll!!!!#taglist is open #i suck at making them look pretty but o well #I’m excited for writing this too #gojo x reader #gojo x reader series #a dead end masterlist

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floral-comet-whump · 7 months ago

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Whumpee that deceives Whumper

They rack their brain to memorize every little movement, every indicator of Whumper's mood, every pattern. At some point, they even learn to predict Whumper.

They know what Whumper likes to see. They know what they want within a few minutes, what's going to happen to them. They're powerless to stop it.

Sometimes Whumper wants them to silently cry on the floor, so they do. It would be foolish not to conserve energy while they can.

Sometimes Whumper is already in a bad mood. They probe, both because the knowledge is invaluable and because then Whumper will take it out on them.

Whumpee has a little internal guide to how to take punishments. Begin as defiant, but still shake. Look like they're trying to conceal their fear. Gradually break. It starts off as a yelp or sob or whimper followed by an immediate insult, then Whumpee goes quiet for a bit until it's “too much,” begging quietly. And then it's as if a dam has been broken, frantically pleading for mercy, for a reprieve. They look at Whumper with wide, teary eyes, and both their true self and their facade just want it to stop.

Their cries turn quiet as their energy runs out, until they can't bear to look at anything. Their flinch at Whumper's hand on their chin doesn't need to be faked. Their distress is real, and they let themselves whimper. Whumper likes displays of exhausted weakness, it makes them feel as if they've won.

They lean into the little coos and pets Whumper gives after, trying not to gag. Alarms of panic ring through their head, and they acknowledge them.

It would be easier to lose themselves in the comfort after the torture. It would be so much easier to become a shell of a person. They already act like one. Why can't they give up?

The emotional exhaustion after they've been left alone. The dark quiet. Their steadying breath. The scent of both blood and anticeptic. The locked door. The pain.

They can escape once Whumper deems them broken enough to let out unsupervised. It's just a matter of time, just a matter of maintaining this act. A matter of trust from a sadistic torturer that keeps Whumpee in a basement for no reason other than their own pleasure.

They have to keep going.

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fyeahnix · 7 months ago

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Ambessa Medarda expects nothing but the best from her pets. How else would she be able to show them off in front of the other warlords?

cw: wlw, consensual D/s, inspection, fondling, fingering, smut

------

"Display."

The command from behind snapped you out of your brief reverie. You spread your legs apart and placed your hands behind your head with elbows spread wide. Held still. Naked and still with your eyes cast downwards.

Warlord Ambessa Medarda hummed as she circled you. "Hm, faster this time, eh? I'd almost believe you'd been practicing without me. Even still..." Her words lingered. She stopped behind you once more, and you shuddered when her lips ghosted the shell of your ear. "...your stance"—she pushed the inside of your thigh with two fingers—"needs work. I expect them wider."

You widened.

"Forty-five degrees, pet, like I taught you," she scolded. When she reclaimed her spot in front of you, she examined the space between your legs. "Not sixty and not thirty. Don't make me repeat myself. Understood? Speak."

"Yes, Warlord."

Despite your official status as her beloved concubine, you didn't have the luxury of undermining her right now. Ambessa was a large and intimidating woman, ruthless and cunning beyond her stature. The scars decorating her dark skin dictated a thousand stories of war and betrayal, situations of life and death you'd never be able to comprehend. In what world would you jeopardize her position and claim to authority for a temporary ego boost? This wasn't the practice session for it. You'd have ample opportunities in the future.

"Straighten your back, little one." When you did, Ambessa proceeded with her study of your form. "I did inform you this banquet is important, didn't I? I see you've taken that to heart. But did I tell you why?"

You did not respond, only made the minute adjustments to your form as she demanded.

"We Noxians respect power over all, no matter what form it takes. What better way to display such power than through the subjects you command?" She paused. Gave you a once-over. She cupped your cheek with a large hand, then ventured south over your collar to balance one breast in her palm. Your lack of a reaction earned you a pleased nod. "The banquet is nothing more than a gathering of warlords eager to boast about their claims. Important, still, but a...networking event, so to speak."

You swallowed as her touch lingered at your breasts, unable to help the shiver from the possessive graze of their undersides.

"You'll be on display. At my side, of course. You are my most prized pet, after all. But you will be scrutinized by the other warlords. Touched..."

She pinched a nipple.

"...Fondled..."

Kneaded your ass.

"...Violated."

Two fingers slid along your cunt.

You whimpered and flinched, nearly dropping your stance.

"Your ability to keep your composure reflects upon me." She teased your entrance before breaching slowly. "What kind of lord would I be if I couldn't train my own pets? That's why I demand perfection from you. All of you. But especially my prize."

You dripped around the one finger that had entered you, and a single bead of your arousal slid down your thigh. You fidgeted in place, mentally begging to be put out of your misery in this godforsaken position. But you had to hold on. For you and for her.

"I have high expectations for you, pet. I need to know you're ready for what comes ahead. It'll be a special day for us both."

Your breathing grew erratic. You blinked multiple times in succession, hoping to rid yourself of this nightmare.

Another finger filled you as the pad of her thumb caressed your clit. Your breath hitched and you could not take any more.

Ambessa shot you a look that bordered between mischief and pity, a look you barely caught out of the corner of your eye. "Hm? Is there something you need to say? Speak freely."

"M-May I come? Please..."

"Already?" Her scarred lip twitched in mirth, and she withdrew her fingers, pulling a groan from your chest. "I've barely touched you."

You whined.

Ambessa tutted. "Ah ah. Don't you dare. Use your words."

You sighed instead. "Please, Warlord? Please let me come..."

It may not have shown on her face, but Ambessa broke in seconds. She found your whining unbearable, but hearing you beg never failed to make her falter.

"You did improve your timing today. Though, I still expect better from you in your positioning." She pressed her palm against your pussy, and you jerked against it, breaking your rigid stance. She sighed dramatically.

"You may."

You only lasted four thrusts after she plunged back into you. Noxian swears dribbled from your lips as your orgasm ripped through you. Shaking and spent, your knees buckled and you collapsed into her chest. Your heart clamored in your ribs while hers beat with the whisper of a soft drum, utterly calm and at ease. When she pulled her hand away, your cunt twitched and grasped at nothing.

She held you close, and you floated away in her arms to land in the plush satin of the canopied bed you sometimes shared with her on nights you desired her embrace. When your brain reset itself and your attention returned, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as you were trained to clean up your messes after making them.

Ambessa wiped her still-wet fingers across and down your tongue, painting your mouth with your own essence. "You should know, pet, I don't plan for anyone to touch you in the ways I do. It would be an act of aggression against me. We Noxians may exhibit pride in our strengths, but we aren't barbarians. You can at least expect a level of respect when you're there."

When you cleaned off her fingers with your lips and tongue, Ambessa cupped your chin. "Now, what do you say?"

You locked eyes with hers, the only time you were allowed during your training and scenes. "Thank you."

"Good," she husked, and released you thereafter. "That's enough training for today. Now, come. We both need a bath. That is...if you can still walk."

#Arcane #League of Legends #Ambessa Medarda #Ambessa #Ambessa x Reader #Ambessa x you #Ambessa/Reader #Ambessa/You #Ambessa imagine #reader imagine #Canon x Reader #Ambessa smut #Ambessa fic #writing #fiction #fanfiction #headcanon: ambessa #nix fics #gonna be shilling this a bit harder because I don't have a taglist for her

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samaraxmorgan · 11 months ago

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Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#he’s such a pain in the ass I love him sm #also pls lmk if there’s any tagging issues!! I’ve never had a taglist this long before #nav ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ryomen Sukuna #Sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #my writing #roommate Sukuna au

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chaoslibra · 4 months ago

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♪ ༘⋆ ᴅʀᴀᴡɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ — t.todoroki smau

i. stranger danger iii. practice session

ii. shush boykissers 𝄞 m.list

you were already a pretty light sleeper under normal conditions, so it wasn't surprising that the loud creaking of the floorboards woke you up in the middle of the night. at first you just assumed, that tomura had gotten up to get himself a glass of water and were ready to go back to sleep without a second thought. but something didn't feel right. the steps felt heavier, too heavy for someone who had just rolled out of bed.

immediately your chest tightened. thoughts raced to your head about who the intruder could possibly be. one thought in particular clung to you, but you refused to let yourself entertain it. everything rational within you screamed for you to text tomura and get both of your asses out of here. and yet, not a second later you had hushed across your room to hear the intruder better. your ear was glued to the door, trying to make out any sound.

there were only a few more creaks, followed by a heavy thud. the steps were a lot lighter now and the floorboards didn't creak anymore. it was safe to assume that the person had taken their shoes off. but why? if they had broken in, why would they bother taking their shoes off? you knew, you should be a lot more terrified, but for some reason you were just confused.

a deep breath escaped your lips before you slowly pressed down the door handle. this was a stupid decision. you knew full well, that you should have probably run the other way the moment you had heard any type of noise. the smartest decision would have been to climb out the window and use the little ledge on the window sill to climb over to tomura's room and wake him up. instead you gently pushed the door open and stepped into the pitch black living room.

you couldn't hear any steps. the sudden dead silence enveloped you like an eery, dark cloak. you had expected to see a figure move through the room, but there was none. there was no way you had imagined all of it, was there? from the door to your room, you could see the entire living room. to see the kitchen, though, you would have to round the corner, because the wall from the entry hallway that connected to the kitchen island blocked your view to it. there was a slight rustling sound again, followed by the fridge being opened? you'd never heard of people going through fridges, when breaking and entering, but in all fairness, in this economy, you couldn't blame them for trying. obviously they didn't know your brother well, though. if they did, they would know his fridge wasn't worth opening. there was never anything worthwhile in there, except for energy drinks, ice cream and half empty take-out containers if you were lucky.

"fuck's sake!" a deep voice hissed.

you were pretty sure now, that it was a guy, but you couldn't place the voice. that was much more relieving, that it should be, but a man you didn't know was very likely to be safer, than the ones you did know. still, you grabbed tomura's keys from the little bowl in the entry way – careful not to let the keychains dangle. you tiptoed over to the kitchen, the cold metal of the keys digging into your skin. you kept close to the wall, so he wouldn't see you, but by the time you reached the kitchen island, he was already walking back toward the living room. you could only hope, that he hadn't seen you yet. you pushed your body into the wall, as if that would make it swallow you.

he stopped walking. you decided to take that second to try and at least make out some features. he was dressed so dark, that his frame almost entirely blended into the pitch black background. he was wearing a hooded jacket, hiding any feature you would have otherwise maybe seen, beneath it. his arm shifted, at least that's what you assumed it was, since your eyes still hadn't gotten used to the dark. that proved unnecessary a second after, because his elbow hit the light switch. the sudden shift in lighting momentarily blinded you and somehow turned off the alarm signals, that should have told you to get the fuck out of there.

"not running off this time?" you jumped back hearing the playful tone of his voice.

blinking a few times to get used to the very bright light, you stared up at him. when you recognized who he was, you felt both relief that he wasn't some psycho killer and a little annoyed that he had obviously noticed you a bit ago and messed with you for whatever reason. you had been right about him wearing all black, though. his thick hooded jacket covered his pitch black hair almost entirely. it didn't however cover the shit-eating grin, that he was staring down at you with.

"to be fair, you were a strange man in my brother's apartment." you crossed your arms in front of your chest. "and i was in a towel."

"fair enough." he laughed pulling the hood of his jacket down.

even though you hadn't really looked at him, when you had bolted out of the room yesterday, you had seen his face a bunch online before. he had been everywhere together with the rest of lov, when their first single blew up. now that dabi's face was lit entirely, you could see the black ink snaking its way up his neck from below his jacket. there weren't any on his face, but he had more than enough piercings to make up for it. just from a quick glance you could see little silver balls adorning his right eyebrow, three more on the left side of his nose and he had snake bites. his black hair was tousled into every possible direction, sticking out in messy spikes. he was taller than you and a good bit broader, too, though that could just as well be the thickness of his jacket.

"didn't mean to wake you up, by the way." he unzipped his jacket and lazily dropped it onto the kitchen island. even though the hoodie that he was wearing under it was baggy and obviously intended to fit loosely, you could see the broad shoulders underneath it. the tattoos from his neck obviously continued under the collar of his hoodie.

"you're good." you smiled, awkwardly shifting your feet.

he just nodded and slumped onto the couch. you assumed that to have been the end of your conversation and where just about ready to leave, when he spoke up again. "i'm dabi by the way."

it was kind of funny that he felt the need to introduce himself, when you both knew, that you were aware who he was. maybe he just thought it was the polite thing to do.

"y/n." you said quietly. you weren't sure if tomura had mentioned your name. himiko had told you earlier tonight, that tomura had never mentioned you, so you probably were right to introduce yourself. dabi just hummed, resting his feet on the coffee table next to three open cans of monster and the bag of chips tomura had opened sometime before you had moved in. his eyes turned to you again, looking at you, almost as if he was trying to remember something.

"wait, i know you." you furrowed your brows looking back at him. "didn't you say you didn't like lov on twitter bout a week ago?"

if only you had taken the advice of the smarter part of your brain and climbed out the window when you had the chance. you laughed awkwardly, wishing you could be anywhere but here – preferably somewhere six feet under ground. and not right in front of the bassist of the band, you had publicly claimed hating, even though it had been for a joke. the whole thing had blown up completely with their vicious fans literally blowing up your phone with hate comments and threats. you remembered vividly that somehow dabi, of all people, had found your post and even commented. tomura had found the entire thing hilarious, because of course he did. but he had never mentioned to dabi that the person who had made that viral post, was his sister.

"i didn't actually mean that." you choked out an awkward laugh. dabi's head tilted to the side. he stared at you so intensely now, as if he were genuinely curious about the explanation. you just then noticed how brightly blue his eyes were. which was only accented with the black color that was smudged all around his eyes. and it looked like he was wearing black mascara as well. "i honestly just wanted to mess with tomu. never expected that shit to blow up the way it did."

he looked at you for a good second, as if he was processing what you had just said. and then he just snorted out a laugh. "so what i'm hearing is you don't actually think we suck?"

"didn't say that, did i?" you decided to be petty and mess with him a little. as payback for him messing with you earlier. from the way his eyebrow raised, you assumed that he hadn't expected that answer. "wait for real?"

you just shrugged, trying your best to keep a straight face. he kept his bright eyes on you, trying to gauge your expression for any sign if you were being serious or not. he gave up a few seconds after.

"come on, you're killing me here."

you laughed seeing how invested he seemed to be. it was kind of nice to see, how serious he was taking this, especially since you know how much the band meant to your brother. you decided to make him suffer no longer.

"i'm kidding." it was funny to watch the actual relief on his face. "most of your stuff's actually really good."

"just most, huh?" he leaned back on the couch very quickly switching to his grin from before. you stared at him with a deadpan expression, which of course, he found even more amusing.

"obviously not what i meant." you rolled your eyes.

dabi let out a soft chuckle, still actively amused by annoying you. even though, he was sure, that you weren't actually as annoyed as you tried to look. and he would've been right. "you have a favorite?"

"hm?"

dabi grinned seeing your head tilt, not understanding what he wanted from you.

"favorite song, i mean."

the question left you more stumped, than it probably should have. you had been honest with dabi, you really did like all of their music. both the heavier rock songs they played and the very few slower songs they had – even their covers were usually very nice to listen to. even though, tomura usually asked you for your opinion the moment, they released anything, you had never really been able to pick a clear favorite. though you had been able to give him an answer earlier, that was usually heavily influenced by the way you were feeling on that particular day.

"don't think i could pick that easily." you shrugged. "but i've been listening to blue from the new ep a lot."

something lit up in his eyes, when you said that. it was subtle enough, thought for you to not really register it as out of the ordinary. dabi just hummed in response, not commenting on your choice at all. silence befell the two of you. the realization hit, that it was probably well over four am in the morning and though, tomura had the ability to sleep through five fire alarms blaring at the same time and would not be woken up by the two of you just talking, you should probably sleep at some point, if you wanted to at least pretend to pay attention in your 8am class.

"i should probably head back." you said, already turning on your heel, when dabi stopped you.

"hold on." he got up from the couch and was now standing barely two feet away from you. "give me your number."

"huh?" you couldn't help but stare at him for a couple seconds. the surprise on your face was palpable and probably really obvious, but you had genuinely not expected him to say that. especially not as demanding as he did. he just smiled, completely ignoring how you had reacted, which you were sure he was doing purposefully.

"you live here too, now. 's only fair, i give you a heads up when i'm coming over." he explained.

that made a lot of sense, actually. and it was really considerate of him. you quickly hushed into the kitchen and grabbed a little piece of paper from one of the cabinets. you quickly scribbled your number on it and handed it to him. he thanked you and haphazardly folded it before letting it slip into the side pocket of his pants. it didn't really occur to you, until then, that you had given an entirely strange guy your number, but you figured, that it wasn't that much of an issue, considering that tomura was close to him.

"it was nice to meet you, dabi." you smiled at him. " good night."

"night, y/n."

♪ ༘⋆ ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀɢᴇ ᴘᴀꜱꜱ

⋆ everyone in the band is a boykisser.

⋆ himiko leans more to women, but she's had crushes on boys before (she just loves love).

⋆ touya is the only one of the guys to have had been with women before. though unlabelled, tomura and spinner have both only dated guys.

⋆ tomura will deny it, but him and touya have kissed before (on multiple occasions).

⋆ the band practices under the basement of the black wing, that keigo let's them use for free, since they play gigs in the bar for free and that brings in a lot of people

⋆ keigo actually hadn't intended of having y/n work a full shift, but she did well enough, that he decided to skip the trial shift and immediately hired her

⋆ rumi and y/n immediately clicked within ten minutes of working together. on that note, rumi spent about twenty minutes teaching y/n about the bar and the rest of the day relentlessly bullying keigo and bitching about shitty customers

⋆ himiko immediately forced both y/n and rumi to stop working when she and the band ( - dabi obviously) walked in, because she was so excited to meet tomura's sister.

⋆ they spent an hour getting to know each other and it would have been more, but spinner came up from the basement to drag her to practice

⋆ y/n had fully expected ochaco to leave, when her friends called her to go out for ice cream with her and had not at all expected to be invited. himiko tried sneaking out with them, when they went down to say bye to the band, but spinner caught her

⋆ ochaco calls all her female friends muses. she has a folder dedicated to each one, full of pictures she took (with consent ofc). himiko’s folder was already twice the size of the average when the two were still friends.

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tags: @fictionalcharactersownmyheart @hktfbuo @commonmisery @lsunncy @kyiyoko @seijuroww @themultifandomgirl @samm1e13 @kalulakunundrum @porusuniverse @oddball08 @starseclipsing @jlly1 @softasshadows @peachesvault @starzzworld @starrmage @letsgolulu @cristy-101 @brixmeeler @skeletonmoths @togeswrld

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