#I report them as broken but we all know that it’s not being seen or fixed

[conshirtoe]

Will I ever have a day where I’m not whisked away to the App Store for some stupid capitalism game every 2 min

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[yannawayne]

if i bend under the weight + sun bleached flies

synopsis: tim's super! s/o gets hit with kryptonite and gets stuck under a building tags: gn! reader, blood, broken bones, needles, panic attacks part of my dc augu-whumpers series ; requests for this are open!

⋅────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅

PREVIEW.

"Was that a crash? Damn, that was loud."

"A building collapsed in the far east. Supers is in charge of that area."

"Supers? You there? Status report. What happened?"

“Shit! Shit! Shit! They’ve been hit with Kryptonite. Vitals are unstable! Someone get there now!”

 ༻⊰───⋅

Tim cried too, tears mingling with the grime on his face. “I’m sorry, I know, I know, baby. Please! Come on, we have to get up.”

⋅────⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅

You were a super.

A near-indestructible hero with strength beyond measure. People watched in awe as you deflected bullets, halted runaway trains, and shattered barriers that would have left ordinary heroes in ruin.

To them, you were an immovable rock, impervious to life’s storms, a being untouched by doubt or weakness.

You had grown used to this. You were used to being seen as strong, so much so that you rarely had backup on missions. You were often sent out alone, expected to handle every crisis on your own. After all, you were a super. You fought solo, without regret, without asking for assistance. You believed you could bear it all.

But now, you found yourself beneath the skeletal remains of a collapsed building, the wreckage pressing down on you with a force that should have been a mere inconvenience. Dust and debris swirled around you in the dim light filtering through cracks in the rubble. The once-sturdy structure groaned and creaked as if protesting your struggle.

Normally, you would have lifted the wreckage effortlessly, but something was terribly wrong with your powers. Your hands, usually so strong, trembled as they strained against the concrete. You could feel the weight of each individual slab pressing down on you, pinning you to the ground.

Kryptonite, you thought, the realization hitting you with a force almost as crushing as the debris. The last memory you remember is being hit with a green glow.

Whimpering, you took a deep breath, strands of damp hair fell over your eyes, clinging to your sweat-soaked forehead. The burn in your side, a sharp and unfamiliar sting, pierced through the usual numbness. Your breathing came in ragged gasps, each inhale heavy with the smell of dust and despair. You had grown so accustomed to invincibility that pain felt like an unwelcome stranger. The once-mighty walls of your strength seemed to be crumbling, just like the debris around you.

There was a ringing in your ears, a harsh buzz that grew louder. You realized it was your communication link, crackling with urgency. You heaved, your head lolling to the side as you struggled to keep the building aloft. Every muscle screamed in protest, and the once-lightweight concrete now felt like it was made of lead.

"Supers? You there?"

Someone's voice echoed in your ear, Batman you think, steady and calm.

"Where are you? We need some backup here, stat."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump in your throat. Your eyes drooped, the weight of your exhaustion pulling them down. "S… Sorry. I'm in a situation right now. I can't provide backup. Might actually need some..."

There was a pause, a brief silence that felt like an eternity.

"How serious is your situation? I don’t think anyone will be able to help you for a while. Think you can handle it?"

You could hear the detachment in his voice, the cold, clinical tone that expected you to push through just as you always had. There was no urgency, no hint of concern—just an unwavering belief that you would somehow manage.

Belief that a super could hold their own.

You blinked away the growing tears, shifting your position slightly to alleviate the burning in your side. The ringing in your ears had subsided, replaced by the dull roar of your own heartbeat.

"O—okay. I think I can hold on for a bit." Your voice was barely more than a whisper, the words forced out through gritted teeth.

The comm-link clicked off, the abrupt silence leaving you alone with the weight of the world pressing down on you.

You struggled as you lifted the building, feeling the bones in your wrists start to give way under the pressure. A sharp, searing pain shot through your arms as the bones cracked, the sickening sound lost in the groaning of the collapsing structure.

Your palms were now raw and bleeding, cut by the jagged edges of the debris. Warm blood trickled down your arms and you heaved, throat dry.

Tears mingled with the sweat on your face, blurring your vision. You blinked them away, focusing on the task at hand. You had to hold on. You had to keep fighting. The world above depended on it.

Slowly, agonizingly, you managed to lift the building a few inches. It was a minuscule shift, but it was enough to make a difference. The weight shifted slightly, and you could see a small gap forming. With a final, desperate effort, you managed to lift the wreckage high enough to create a gap wide enough for you to fly out.

As you emerged into the open air, you collapsed onto the ground, your breathing ragged and uneven.

For now, at least, you had held on.

 ༻⊰───⋅

"Was that a crash? Damn, that was loud."

"A building collapsed in the far east. Supers is in charge of that area."

"Supers? You there? Status report. What happened?"

“Shit! Shit! Shit! They’ve been hit with kryptonite. Vitals are unstable! Someone get there now!”

There was a cold, icy feeling sinking deep into Tim's bones as he heard the announcement through his earpiece. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat feeling slower and more labored than the last.

He quickly checked his location on his communicator. The display flickered with stark, cold reality—he was indeed the nearest to the scene, but still a grueling 15 minutes away. The distance seemed to stretch into an endless expanse, each second feeling like an eternity.

Without hesitation, he sprinted to his bike, his movements driven by sheer adrenaline. The cold, numbing fear was replaced by a burning urgency as he mounted the bike and roared to life. He maneuvered through traffic with reckless speed, weaving and cutting corners as if each second lost could mean a life.

As he drove, the cold, numbing fear slowly began to ebb away, melting into a fiery, scalding anger.

"Why the fuck weren't there reinforcements?!" he shouted into the earpiece, his voice laced with frustration and desperation. "Did no one think to check the fucking area? Is everyone just sitting around with their heads up their asses?!"

The bike roared beneath him, and his driving became even more reckless. Tim leaned into every turn, the engine's growl mingling with his furious breaths. He spotted a fence ahead, a barrier that seemed to mock his urgency.

Without a second thought, he gunned the throttle, launching the bike into the air. The bike soared, crashing through the fence with a deafening crack. Concrete and debris exploded around him as he slammed into the ground on the other side. The impact jarred his bones and rattled his teeth, but he barely registered the pain.

He tore through the final stretch of the city streets, his bike a blur of metal and fury. The wreckage came into view, a twisted maze of steel and concrete.

Tim skidded to a halt, his heart pounding furiously as he dismounted. He spotted you, hunched over right beside the collapsed rubble, your blood seeping into the grass.

Tim’s heart felt as though it was being torn in two as he saw the state you were in. His rage gave way to the deep, icy fear again as he rushed forward.

With trembling hands, he carefully rolled you onto your back, his gaze sweeping over your injuries.

Your face was ghostly pale, streaked with a grimy mix of dirt and blood. Each shallow, labored breath you took seemed to cut through the air with an echo of a sob. The severity of your injuries was laid bare—cuts and bruises marred your skin, each wound a painful testament to the violence you had endured. Blood pooled around you, a dark, crimson stain against the surrounding debris, making his stomach churn with a sickening nausea.

His eyes fell to your wrists, and he was horrified by the sight of them—clearly broken, twisted at unnatural angles.

He leaned down, his voice softening with a tender, almost broken affection.

“Hi, pretty bird,” he whispered. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

“Kryptonite,” you rasp out, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“I know, I know,” he whispers back, his voice low and soothing. He reaches into his utility belt, pulling out a syringe with a green needle, filled with a bright, clear liquid. It was an antidote, a precaution he had hoped never to use.

Tim was always prepared for every situation, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and contingencies. One of the many things you loved about him. His meticulous nature meant that nothing was left to chance, and that care extended to you, his lover.

His hand was steady as he moved to insert the needle, but when you thrashed in pain, he realized too late that the entry had been rougher than he intended.

The sharp intake of breath you took, the wince that crossed your face—these were things he had rarely seen, and he realized just how fragile you were in this moment.

Tim had always relied on your metahuman durability, knowing that you could handle whatever force he threw your way, trusting in your strength without a second thought.

Then you screamed and cried, your sobs echoing through the night. The pain was unbearable, a relentless pressure squeezing you from every angle. Tim’s face crumpled in horror and panic, his usually calm demeanor cracking under the weight of your suffering.

He administered the antidote with trembling hands, his movements hurried yet tender. The needle was pulled away with a gentleness that belied his growing panic.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, moving to comfort you. “I didn’t mean for it to hurt. Please, just hold on. I’m right here.”

His hands were unsteady as he brushed the sweat and tears from your face, touch as gentle as he could manage despite his own mounting panic.

Tim was losing his grip. The sight of you, so vulnerable and hurting, was terrifying and so, so, so unfamiliar, driving him to a near hysterical state.

The antidote began to take effect, the green glow from the syringe slowly dissipating as it worked to counteract the kryptonite’s effects. But Tim’s relief was fleeting. The urgency of the situation pressed down on him, and he realized with a jolt that he needed to get you to a safer location.

“Come on, pretty bird, I need to get you up,” he said, his voice quivering with desperation.

Each attempt to lift you was met with new waves of agony, your screams slicing through the air like a jagged blade. Your cries were heart-wrenching, each one a brutal slash against his soul, unraveling him with every tortured note. The dark, red stains seeped into his heart, a reminder of how he was failing you.

Tim cried too, tears mingling with the grime on his face. “I’m sorry, I know, I know, baby. Please! Come on, we have to get up.”

With a desperate heave, he dragged you into his arms. You shuddered violently, your body wracked with ragged, sputtering sobs. Tim's heart squeezed with each gasping breath you took, and then, with a final, shuddering exhale, you fainted, your body going limp against him.

Panic surged through Tim like a tidal wave. His breath came in frantic bursts as he cradled you, trying to stay calm despite the overwhelming fear clawing at him. His hand fumbled for his comm device, his movements erratic and desperate.

He knew he had the skills—both medical and analytical—to assess your situation and manage it. His training had equipped him with the ability to stabilize injuries, evaluate critical conditions, and make quick decisions under pressure. But now, those skills felt useless against the crushing weight of his fear.

“Someone, please!” he screamed into the device, throat raw. "Help me!"

 ༻⊰───⋅

[1989tvcore]

tied by music. - charles leclerc. chapter one.

summary; in which a songwriter gets in contact with the il predestinato to help her in creating her most personal album.

face claim; taylor swift

pairing(s); charles leclerc x fem! singer! reader, zayn malik x ex! fem! singer! reader. smau.

warning(s); toxic/unfaithful relationship, reader in a very bad mental state during break-up but she’s eventually healed, zayn is the douchebag i sincerely apologise. </3 (most of these are shown in the following parts)

author note; can we please um… ignore the fact that um… this is literally the script for my um… fame dr… ANYWAYS HERE’S COMPOSER CHARLES TO COMFORT YOU! 🤍 this series will have many parts or maybe just two, we’ll see how it plays out.

masterlist | chapter 2

english isn’t my first language, credits to rightful owners.

popbase

liked by y/nayncrumbs, ynphobic and 45,771 others

popbase Song-writer & Musician Y/N Y/LN & former One-Direction & Musician member Zayn Malik have officially broken up after 6 years of being together, TMZ reports.

tagged: youryusername, zayn

view all comments

user6 oh that y/nayn stan account must be crying now that the rumors are confirmed …

y/nayncrumbs user6 i literally just turned suicidal.

ynphobic y/nayncrumbs u know damn well this was long due …

user47 user6 can you blame them?

user58 THANK GOD, that man was insufferable when it came to their relationship

user13 user58 silent like

user0 user58 do y’all ever shut up

user58 user0 just wait until y/n releases a new album x

user99 NO PLS SAY SIKE RN

user33 user99 YES PLS DO I CAN’T HANDLE THIS I’M IN CLASS

user13 user99 girl she’s free???

user1989 wait a sec … remember when we got y/n6 rumors a few months ago?? DID HE CHEAT?? ZAYN IT’S ON SIGHT.

user17 user1989 they might’ve just not announced it when they actually broke up 🤡

user1989 user17 they were spotted together multiple times during y/n6 rumors and he was literally ignoring her while talking to models???

user16 why is nobody mentioning how charles leclerc has literally been helping y/n to make y/n6???

user55 user16 same question right here.

user4 user16 how do you know it’s for y/n6?

user16 user4 y/n has mentioned multiple times that she admires charle’s music and would love to work with him on a project of hers or his

user77 user16 Y/N IS A F1 GIRLIE??

user16 user77 since she was a child 🤧

yourusername just posted a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, oliviarodrigo and 1,403,758 others

user1989 GIRL WE KNOW THAT’S CHARLES’ KEYBOARD

user13 this album will break us all so bad.

user16 hi pls attend the next grand prix tyvm

charles_leclerc you must be in jail for not sending me the first picture.

yourusername charles_leclerc surprise? 😁

charles_leclerc yourusername yeah yeah whatever now send me the picture so i can make it my wallpaper 😌

charles_leclerc just posted a story!

seen by yourusername, f1, landonorris and 997,410 others.

user1989 SHUT UP IT’S LITERALLY THE SAME KEYBOARD

f1wagsource soft launch, no?

user65 CHARLES HERVE PERCEVAL LECLERC IS THIS WHAT I THINK IT IS.

yourusername no bc i’m literally announcing our baby tomorrow

charles_leclerc yourusername I know 🫶🏻

yourusername charles_leclerc i’m so nervous

charles_leclerc yourusername there’s no reason to be nervous sweetheart. whatever happens I’m here.

yourusername charles_leclerc stop being such a good boyfriend you know i’m not used to men like you 😔

charles_leclerc yourusername I really don’t plan on stopping anytime soon cherié.

yourusername charles_leclerc please do not! i love you 💞💓💕💗💝💘💖

charles_leclerc yourusername i love you too babe, now go rest you’ve got many promotions starting tomorrow.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, arianagrande and 13,400,239 others

yourusername Surprise surprise! The first single of my new album “Metanoia” (coming out April 23), “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” comes out tomorrow evening!

Thank you my whole team for making this album possible. I’m so grateful for all the wonderful and talented artists who took part in the creation of “Metanoia”, truly couldn’t be more lucky to have people like you by my side. Whether that is as colleagues or friends. In addition, there was one special someone who took HUGE part in writing, composing and producing this album with me, someone who I have very close to my heart. @charles_leclerc, the man, the monegasque himself. Thank you for agreeing to helping me bring into real life my deepest emotions and thoughts, you stood by me during very hard times in my life, I will always be thankful for that. Studio sessions with you are my only good memories of the hell I’ve been through last year.

And to the fans, thank you for supporting me always. I hope you’re excited for this project as much as I am. See you tomorrow for the premiere of the “we can’t be friends (wait for you love)” music video!

view all comments

arianagrande congrats!! can’t wait to listen♡

liked by author

yourusername arianagrande my girl 🤍

iamrebeccad can’t wait for tomorrow 🥰

liked by author

yourusername iamrebeccad love you so much. 🥹💗

francisca.cgomes album of the year already

liked by author

yourusername francisca.cgomes tearing up, thank you so much kika. 🥹🤍

lilymhe so in love with you! 💗

liked by author

yourusername lilymhe my #1 gf 🥹💞

alex_albon lilymhe excuse me?

rachelzegler I THINK I’M CRYING??

liked by author

niallhoran Congrats sis!

yourusername niallhoran Thank you Niall! 🫶🏻

user29 niallhoran oh zayn fucked up big time

user32 niallhoran THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS EVERYTHING

ynayncrumbs niallhoran oh it’s really over.

user1989 DID I ACTUALLY JUST MANIFEST Y/N6????

user13 user1989 OH MY FUCK YOU DID

user45 user1989 I think you graduated from tom holland manifestation university!

user16 WHERE’S THE TRACKLIST??

user88 user16 she’ll probably reveal it later

user99 EVERYONE SHUT UP NEW Y/N MV TOMORROW!!?!?

user30 user99 I’ve got a feeling it’ll have a love interest

user99 user30 SAME

charles_leclerc So proud of you! ❤️

liked by author

yourusername charles_leclerc Thank you Charlie! 🥹

ynphobic charles_leclerc I think I’m not breathing anymore.

user49 charles_leclerc I’M CRYING TEARS OF HAPPINESS.

landonorris having early access to this album: it’s good ig…

yourusername landonorris did you think the same when you were crying to the whole tracklist?

landonorris yourusername YOU DID NOT.

alex_albon landonorris get ended nowins 🤣‼️

landonorris alex_albon FUCK YOU

user11 I’M LITERALLY CRYING BC WDYM CHARLES ALMOST GOT A PARAGRAPH DEDICATED TO HIM??

yourusername user11 he deserves it more than anything. 🤍

©️ 1989tvcore 2024 , all rights reserved.

taglist; @formulaonebuff @ironspdy @sleepybrokenmelle @dreamergirlatpaddock @taygrls

[sayruq]

In January of 2024, Dr. Bara Zuhaili entered Gaza on a two-week medical mission with a U.S.-based organization, Rahma Worldwide. Dr. Zuhaili dedicated most of his time to Shuhada' Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir Al-Balah, central Gaza. While this was not his first experience in a wartime or crisis setting — he had undertaken medical missions in Syria and was in southern Turkey during the earthquake — it proved to be his most horrific. As a vascular surgeon, he was tasked with assisting Gazan doctors in one of the ugliest tasks of this war: amputations. A generation of amputees has emerged, with over 10 children losing one or more limbs per day, on average, since the beginning of the war. Dr. Ghassan Abu-Sittah called it “the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history.” Even this statistic, reported by UNICEF in December of 2023, is now outdated. The true number of men, women, and child amputees remains unknown, with estimates ranging upwards of 10,000 people. It is a number that will continue to rise as new and unknown weapons destroy tissue and bone, crumbling medical infrastructures and scarce supplies force constant life-and-death decisions, while infections and chronic illnesses — largely ignored — silently kill or handicap thousands.

Is this the first time you've worked in a war zone or in a humanitarian crisis? Did any of them prepare you for this? It was not the first time. Unfortunately, I had experience in Syria, working in the underground hospitals in the besieged areas of Aleppo and Idlib. There, the healthcare facilities were also under constant attack by the Syrian regime. But Gaza was unlike anything I had seen before. To start, the supply chain was completely broken. Supplies were extremely limited in Deir Al Balah, where I was based for most of my stay. The hospital functioned at only 5-10% capacity compared to any similar hospital in the Middle East—I'm not even talking about an American hospital. Then, there were the number of patients. Just to give you an idea: Shuhada' Al-Aqsa Hospital in Deir Al Balah is only equipped for 150 patients. Under extreme circumstances, they could maybe stretch to accommodate up to 200 patients. When I arrived, there were 950 patients, in addition to over 20,000 refugees sleeping in the corridors of the hospital and its complex. Every time we experienced a bombardment, we had anywhere from 20 to 60 patients rushing in simultaneously, in addition to the patients already being treated. It was completely overwhelming and overcrowded. The third issue had to do with the type of injuries. I've seen a lot of trauma before — traumatic injuries are not new to me — but the level of trauma I saw was something I've never witnessed in my entire life. When I was in the operating room, I would get a call from the ER saying someone was shot in the leg and they needed me as soon as possible. In my mind, someone shot in the leg with a bullet would have an entry size of about five to six millimeters and an exit wound size of about two centimeters long. That is what I was familiar with. What I saw in Gaza — which I had never seen before — was literally as if an explosion, an RPG, had exploded into the leg. The entry wound would be about five to 10 centimeters wide and the exit wound would be almost 30 centimeters wide. One bullet would destroy a diameter of 10-15 centimeters… all of the muscle, bone, arteries, and nerves were all gone, destroyed.I'm not a military expert, I don't know much about weapons. But I don't know what kind of bullet can cause that much destruction. With a bullet wound in the U.S., I could get away with doing a bypass to salvage the leg. In Gaza, there was nothing anyone could do to salvage the leg. The amount of tissue damage forced me to do amputations almost every single time. 

Can you describe what a single day would look like? As a rule, anytime a bombardment happened, we would wait between four to eight hours before we received any injured people. In Deir Al-Balah, we would see the missile hitting two to three kilometers away and we knew that there were many casualties, but it would take these people — who were only three kilometers away from us — four to eight hours to reach our location. The IOF (Israeli Occupation Forces) prevented any ambulances from entering the scene, and anyone attempting to help or approach would be shot. I had many cases where the ambulance driver would come to me holding two or three kids. They were dead, and he would swear to me they were alive four hours ago. We lost a lot of lives just waiting to reach us in the hospital. Our days typically began around seven in the morning, and even though the night was filled with attacks and bombardments, no casualties would reach us before the morning. By then, we would go to the ER and try to start the triage process: determining who needs to go to the OR first and who could afford to wait. We would then perform surgeries throughout the day, often not finishing until one or two in the morning. Sometimes, if I had time, I would do my rounds to check on the patients, and by late afternoon, we would have more bombardments and injuries coming in until midnight. Usually, by midnight, things slowed down… not because there was no bombardment, but because they couldn't reach us anymore.

[brocedestruther]

it never fails to amaze me how interlinked lewis and nico’s pasts are. being teammates for years and best friends since you’ve first seen the karting track—that’s a bond you can’t just lose immediately.

their old karting prinicpal had said that they were too connected. 15 years, and they’ve become enemies? he did not even entertain the idea. they can never be enemies.

nico begged his father to make a team in karting so they can be teammates. lewis injured himself and had a broken arm, so nico did his setup for him. their first and last press conferences were just the two of them. lewis was there when nico got his first podium, and nico was there when lewis got his first podium, first win, first title—always there to support him by the sidelines. sometimes even next to him on that podium, when the stars aligned.

and then nico moved to mercedes. when nico won his first race, lewis was incredibly proud. even when lewis beat him in the title fights when they finally were teammates like they dreamed of, nico still congratulated him. never failed to. even when he retired, he still cheers lewis on and celebrates his wdc wins—but just not as his friend and family anymore like he used to be. just as another face in the crowd, another reporter.

they knew each other so well that nico knew how to play mind games on him, knew where it hurt. lewis knew him so well that he understood why nico retired, despite how many refused to understand.

even now, you cannot mention their careers without talking about the other—their rivalry going down into history as the one that set off the silver war. try to erase it, but it is only nico’s name that is engraved in between lewis’. tucked in between and breaking what would have been a consecutive streak.

their names are forever engraved next to each other. they share the most number of front row starts in formula 1 history — a staggering amount of 44 times. how poetic that it is and will forever will be the same number that lewis drives his car with. even in this, lewis has the upper hand.

this red string tying us together will choke us both before we learn to cut it off harshly. We’ll try to untangle each other from it and see how even seperated, the marks it leaves behind an absence too heavy to ignore. always there, always missing something.

all we can do is marvel at the imprint it leaves behind, yearning for what was before. back when we did not know how to hurt each other. back when the fabric of the thread was nothing but the woven joy and secrets we held for each other, before we learned to craft it, sharpen it—into a weapon of our own design.

to be loved is to be known, and you knew me—didn’t you? but each man kills the one he loves, and i fear that we were never the exception.

[cherrycola27]

A Favor Among Friends

Masterlist Next Part

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption, historical inaccuracies. Regency era men and ideals. Eventual Smut. RegencyEra!AU Banner Credit @thedroneranger

...........................................

Part 1: The First Ball of the Season

Dearest Reader,

I am sure you, just like I am, are buzzing about the upcoming social season. This year's marriage mart is filled with the cream of the crop and overflowing with perfectly beautiful ladies and perfectly handsome gentlemen.

This narrator is excited to see what matches are made this year.

But before the first ball of the season, I hope you all place your bets as to which ladies will find success and which will be left broken hearted.

All eyes this year, seem to be on the house of Lord and Lady Beaumont. At the ripe age of six-and-twenty, their daughter, Miss Y/N Beaumont, enters her fourth social season without a husband. With het older sister being the Dutchess of Miramar, and her older brother set to inherent the family title, one can only wonder why Miss Beaumont has yet to secure a match, and what her family plans to do if she fails again this season.

However, it seems there will be some excitement that many young ladies, and their mamas can look foward too.

After an extended period away in the Americas, this narrator is thrilled to report that the Viscount Bradley Bradshaw has returned to London in hopes to take a wife this season. The only question is, who will be the lucky lady that will catch his eye?

...........................................

"Isn't it wonderful to be back in London?" Your mother chirped from the carriage. "Yes, quite wonderful." You responded, not taking your eyes away from the passing landscape. You sighed.

You dreaded being back in London. You already knew that people would be whispering about you in hushed corners. Girls would giggle and cover their smirks as you walked by, a buzz about that fact that you were old, and still unwed.

It's not that you didn't want to marry. You just didn't want to make the wrong choice. You wanted someone who was kind and valued you as more than a body to carry a child. You wanted someone who liked your wit and charm and appreciated the many talents you had.

"Darling." Your mother called, snapping you out of your trance.

"Hmm?" You hummed back as you turned to face her and your father.

"I asked if you enjoyed your time in Miramar with your sister and the Duke?" Your mother repeated. "Yes, Mama, it was absolutely splendid. William, Micheal, and Violet have grown so much since you've seen them last." You beamed as you talked about your niece and nephews.

You had spent several months helping your sister tend to them while she looked for a governess. It had truly been a splendid time, and you wished you had been able to say forever. But, your parents insisted you come home.

"Wonderful." Your mother smiled before her expression turned more serious. "Y/N, there is something your father and I must discuss with you."

"What?" You asked her. "We know that you have had some difficulties securing a match. It is very noble for you to hold out for love, but sometimes, one must forego love and find a sensible match." Your mother began.

"What do you mean?" You say. "What I mean is—" she sighs. "Your sister is a Dutchess. Your brother will inherit the estate, and you— you will have nothing. And I know Eddie would never let you go without, but darling, your father and I want to know you will be taken care of once we are gone." She tells you.

"Eddie and Clarissa would make sure I'm taken care of. So would Marianne and George." You say.

"We know they would." Your father speaks up finally. "But it is not their job. That is the job of a husband. Which is why your mother and I have decided that if you do not secure a match by the end of the season, we will find one for you." He states.

"What?" You shriek. "An arranged marriage? I will not agree to it." You huff. "You don't have a choice. We love you, but we will not let you tarnish the family name by becoming a spinster!" Your father declares.

You open your mouth to respond, but he shoots you a look that lets you know his mind is made up and that this conversation is over. You sulk into your carriage seat and refuse to look at either of your parents for the remainder of the ride.

............

Your first few days back in London are a flurry of trips to the market, the jeweler, and the modiste. Your mother insists that a new wardrobe will help in your quest to sequester a husband. You're fitted with beautiful drapes of satin and silk and lace for what seems like hours until your mother deems you finished. She does allow you to pick the colors of your garments at least, and so, for the first ball of the season, you choose a deep shade of burgundy. You've always been fond of the color. Even though some would say it's melancholy, you think it's just right. The thought of a dress in that color gives you the tinest bit of hope as you prepare for the season.

..........

Viscount Bradley Bradshaw was not thrilled to be back in London. He would much rather be in the countryside, but he had ignored his estate for too long, and it was now to the point that he could no longer manage on his own. He needed a wife. Someone else to share the burden with.

He didn't need, nor really want, a love match. But he did want someone smart, sensible, kind, and willing to bear his heirs. He wanted someone he could have a conversation with, and that could, at the very least, be his friend.

He'd heard much about the ladies that were available this season, and there seemed to be several promising options. He just hoped he could find someone quickly, have a short courtship, an even shorter engagement, and be married before the meddling mamas sicked their daughters on him.

He ran his hands over his face in the back of his carriage. There were so many things he needed go do this week before the first ball of the season.

He needed to collect a few payments, pay the staffs wages, and head to the tailor. Many of his suits were now too tight in the shoulders. The months he'd spent traveling and made him broader and more muscular than he once was. He couldn't risk being on the dance floor with a potential wife and have his seams bust.

He glanced outside his carriage and saw the parade of ladies and their mothers walking around and gossiping.

"One season, Bradley, you can do this for one season." He whispered to himself before grabbing his journal and writing.

...............

The first ball at the home of Lord and Lady Whittmore came faster than you imagined. It seemed you'd just unpacked your trunk when your ladies' maids came in to help you dress and prepare for the evening.

They tied your corsets and stays, fastened each tiny button, styled your hair into an elegant half up, half down hairstyle, and helped you adorn yourself with a few simple jewels that your mother insisted on.

Standing back from your mirror, you looked every bit the part of an eligible bachelorette. Your deep red dress accentuated your features. The sparkling stones sewn onto it caught the light beautifully.

Your silk gloves elongated your arms, and the garnet necklace and earrings you wore matched your dress perfectly.

Your father smiled warmly, and your mother gasped when you descended the stairs to the foyer where they were waiting for you along with your brother and his wife.

"Y/N! You look most marvelous. Surely you will be the crown jewel of the ball!" Your sister-in-law, Clarissa, gushed as she hugged you.

"Thank you, Clarissa." You smiled at her warmly before your mother ushered everyone out to the carriages. You rode with Eddie and Clarissa to the Whittmore estate, thankful to have a reprieve from your parents talking your ear off about how important it was for you to find a match, and this ball would be your best chance.

The Whittmore estate was lovely when you arrived. Candles lit up the great rooms, lively string music played. There was delicious food and drinks at every corner. Lady Whittmore handed you your dance card, which you quickly secured around your wrist.

Your brother insisted on taking you on a turn about the room, which meant you stopped to talk to several noblemen and had several ask to place their name on your card.

You can't remember half of those you danced with. Just that they would step on your feet or only talk about themselves. Anytime they asked you a question, it was about how many children you wanted and if you knew how to run a house. They didn't care that you were well read, knew three languages, or that you could play the harp. Heirs, and lots of them. That's all they cared about.

After a quatrain with some Lord old enough to be your father, you stepped away from the dance floor in hopes of taking a break and catching your breath. You grabbed a glass of champagne and tried to find a quiet place to sit and have a moment to yourself. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. A large body collided with yours, causing you to trip and spill your drink, and there's all over yourself.

"Oh my goodness! This dress is new!" You shrieked as you frantically tried to dry it with your hankerchief.

"My apologies, Miss. I wasn't watching where I was going." The person who crashed into you said.

"Of course you weren't. You Lords waltz around here with your noses so high in the air that you forget to look down and pay attention." You shot back at them.

There was a moment of silence where you realized that you probably shouldn't have said that. Especially if you wanted to find a husband.

"I'm sor—" you began as you looked up. But once you saw who it was, your words died in your throat.

"Bradley Bradshaw?" You breathed not, not quite believing it was him standing before you. "Ducky? Ducky Beaumont? Is that you?" He asked with a smile.

"No one calls me Ducky anymore, not even Edmond." You say. "Well then, what do they call you?" Bradley asked you.

"Mine name, or Miss Beaumont." You reply. "Miss Beaumont?" Bradley asks you.

"Yes. I am still Miss Beaumont, even though this is my fourth season." You sigh. "Well— I have a had time believing that you of all people struggle with finding a match, Ducky." Bradley smiles at you.

You're just about to correct him again when he suddenly grabs your hand and sweeps you out onto the floor for a waltz. "What was that all about, Lord Bradshaw?" You ask him using his formal title.

"Well, Ducky. There is a young lady who has been pestering me all evening, and I needed to get away from her." Bradley said as he directed your attention to a girl who looked rather annoyed with you.

"Ah, I see." You chuckle. "So, Ducky, tell me, how have you gone four seasons without a husband?" Bradley asks you as the two of you dance.

"It is Miss Beaumont, Lord Bradshaw. We are no longer children, and I am no longer chasing you and my brother around the countryside while our mothers play cards." You say to him. "But, I have simply not been able to find someone who appreciates me and is kind. Everyone only cares about how many children I want and what my dowery is. Not once today have I been asked if I read or if I know another language or if I can play an instrument!" You huff. Bradley chuckles.

"Well, do you read?" He asks you before giving you a spin. "Yes, I read all kinds of books." You reply. "Do you know any other languages?" He asks with a chuckle. "I know three! I speak Spanish, French, and Italian!" You exclaim. "And what about musical instruments? Can you play any?" He smiles at you. "I am most accomplished with the harp." You smile back at him.

"Well, you are very well rounded, Miss Beaumont, certainly interesting." Bradley tells you.

"And you are the only person in this room who knows that. Which is probably why I am on my way to be an old maid at the age of six-and-twenty." You sigh.

"That is not old. I am not much older than that myself. I went to school with your brother, and we are both barely two-and-thirty." Bradley says as the song ends.

"Well, I appreciate the thought. Thank you for the dance, Lord Bradshaw." You say as you curtsey to him.

"No, thank you, Ducky." He smiles and winks at you before bowing and walking away.

You had butterflies in your belly for the rest of the evening. If you were being truthful with yourself, you'd always had feelings for Bradley. Ever since you were a girl, you were captivated by your brother's best friend, always chasing the two of them around your estate, which earned you the nickname he so foundly called you.

You can remember the exact moment you realized your feelings for Bradley weren't platonic. It was when you were fourteen, and he and your brother had come home from their second year at university. The tall, lanky boy you'd spent summers with had filled out into a broad, brawny man.

And even though he was older, Bradley was always kind to you. Which is why it crushed you that he went away the same year you made your debut. You'd always hoped that maybe—just maybe—he would court you.

Maybe that's why you'd never tried too hard to find a suitor because deep down, you were holding out for Bradley. And now, that he's back, you hope that this might be the year that you find a husband.

..............

The next day, you were giddy as calling hours approached. You prayed that if anyone came, it would be Bradley.

When a valet came and said there was a caller for you, you practically leaped from your seat on the sofa, only to be met with disappointment that it was Lord Artenson. He was followed by Lord Phillips, Lord Martin, and Lord Herrington, who was determined to have you as his third wife.

You sighed and resigned yourself to reading a book once Lord Herrington finally left. Calling hours were almost over, and you were silently disappointed that Bradley had not come. But really, it was foolish of you to think that he would. You were his best friend's little sister, practically his own little sister. You were his Ducky, and he would never think of you as anything more.

You were just about to head upstairs to your room and your parents to their own when a valet came in the drawing room.

"Excuse me Lord and Lady Beaumont, it seems there is another visitor here for Miss Beaumont." He spoke.

"Really?" Your father asked. "Who is it?"

"The Viscount Bradshaw."

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @withahappyrefrain

[sanguineterrain]

Hi! I saw your post on Halloween prompts and if your still taking them may I request

Jason was born a werewolf and they're used to their transformations and abilities. They're out on a walk when they find Reader, a human-just-turned-werewolf. Jason decides it's their job to take care of Reader until they're able to use all their powers efficiently, etc. Both didn't expect to catch feelings along the way.

Or

Werewolves are actively hunted down and humans even carry specific silver items and spray to ward them off if they suspect someone of being one. Reader finds Jason, an injured werewolf, hiding in their backyard. They don't have the heart to chase them away, instead opting to heal and hide them away from the hunters after them.

Fem!reader if possible?

Prompts from @promptspa

hi there! thanks for the prompt. i decided to go with the 2nd one, but i tweaked it a little. reader is gender neutral simply because there wasn't any moment to identify gender, but you are free to picture them as female! hope you like :)

werewolf!jason todd x gn!reader | injured jason, tending to wounds, wolf form, reader and jason knew each other when he was robin.

****

"...In other news, reports of animal attacks have skyrocketed, leaving Gotham citizens paranoid. The mayor is enforcing a six o'clock curfew, urging citizens to lock their doors and keep pets inside. Now we have Dan with the weather—"

You mute the TV, stand, and stretch. The wind howls outside, rattling the roof slats. Dan, the weatherman, soundlessly describes how it's only going to get colder this week. That reminds you of Lucy, your Ragdoll. She's been outside for most of the evening.

"Lucy," you call, opening the bag of cat food. Usually, the sound causes her to race into the kitchen, claws clicking on the floor.

But there's no sound. You stop what you're doing and stand instead, moving to the stairs.

"Lucy?"

Nothing.

Animal attacks. Your stomach churns at the thought.

Gotham News often exaggerates that stuff since they're so anti-lycan. Werewolves don't attack animals and haven't done so for centuries unless they're desperate for food. But most citizens don't know that and will happily buy into the scare tactics. You can't afford to, living miles outside of the city.

You head outside when Lucy still doesn't appear. Logically, you know werewolves wouldn't attack your seven pound cat that's seventy percent fur. You know that. But something still feels wrong.

You search around the house first, using your phone as a flashlight. Then you walk toward the shed. That's when you hear meowing.

"Lucy!" you yell. "It's alright, Lucy, come on!"

Lucy makes no motion to move. She meows incessantly, urgent, yowling meows that make you rush over and check her for injuries. She continues to meow, even when you don't find an injury.

"What's wrong, Lucy? What's happened?"

You stroke her back, but nothing calms her. One time, she ran into a skunk, and that had spooked her. It also resulted in three baths to get the smell out.

But the skunk had attacked her then. Here, Lucy is unharmed, but whatever she's seen, it's scared her beyond comforting.

She continues to meow, eyes fixed on the shed. You take a deep breath and go to the shed. Lucy's meows get louder.

"It's alright, Lucy," you say, but now your heart is thumping. The wind rattles the padlock, which is odd, so you shine the light on it.

The lock is broken. You pull open the door, ready to run.

A soft whine comes from inside the shed. You shine your light, and the creature shies away, except it's too big to avoid the light completely. Too big to be a regular animal...

You make out black fur, large ears, and a tail. You gasp. The wolf whines again, curling into the corner like it's trying to make itself small.

There's a trail of blood on the ground. Without getting closer, you can't tell where the blood is from. But if it's enough to make the creature whine, it must be a deep wound.

"I'm not a hunter," you say slowly, and its ears twitch at that. "I'm not here to hurt you. No silver, see?"

You pull out your pockets, unzip your coat, and show your hands. The wolf watches you silently. Its head comes into view, and now you can see that the wolf is male.

And his eyes. His eyes are what confirm your suspicions; they are too intelligent to not be supernatural, glowing an eerie green.

He's an adult wolf, from what you can tell, but still young, his fur dark and thick. His youth doesn't make him any less intimidating, though. He looks much like the pictures of werewolves the antis use to scare people: huge, long body, glowing eyes, claws. He must be double your size, at least.

Lucy has stopped meowing. Now she just stares alongside you, keeping her distance. No wonder she was so distressed.

The wolf suddenly stands, and you take several steps back, heart racing. You hate being scared, hate letting the news report get into your head.

The wolf lies on his back with jerky, uncoordinated movements. He makes a desperate noise and shows his belly.

Knife wounds. Big ones. If he wasn't a wolf, he'd be dead.

"Holy shit," you say. "Oh my God."

This is as vulnerable as any creature can be. But you're just as much a stranger to him as he is to you. Why is he trusting you like this?

You've only known one werewolf in your life. And he's never coming back.

The wolf whimpers again. You nod quickly.

"Okay," you whisper. "It's okay. I'll patch you up."

The wolf sags against the ground, and you run out of the shed, your stomach turning at the thought of another wolf dying.

Lucy follows you, clinging to your ankles, and you try not to trip over her as you gather supplies from the house. She doesn't follow you back outside.

You return to the shed and thread a needle. Then you take a step forward and wait. When he makes no move to attack, you close the distance slowly and crouch by his belly.

His fur is matted and torn in odd places. Carefully, you place a hand on his belly. He doesn't move.

"I'm going to pour the antiseptic now," you say.

The wolf watches as you do. He tenses but doesn't make any more sounds as you clean his wound. Almost like he's used to the feeling.

You feel up his fur for other wounds. That's when you feel a scar that runs from his chest to where his bellybutton would be. It's Y-shaped.

"What—" you say in horror. "What did they do to you?"

The wolf whines again.

"Right, right. Sorry. I'm going to sew you up."

He lets you tend to his wounds without a hitch. He's unusually comfortable with your touch; he doesn't howl or flinch when you touch him, and any warning sounds are gentle.

You finish the stitches and top it with a bandage. He waits patiently, not moving an inch. You haven't done this in years; you never thought your medic training would come in handy again.

Nightingale. That's what the Bats called you. That's who you might've become eons ago, until...

"I won't turn you in," you say when you finish.

The wolf blinks at you.

"But you know that, don't you?"

He protests when you pull a blanket over him. He whines and nudges you away with his nose.

"It's cold here, and I can't carry you inside," you say.

He drags the blanket off with his teeth and throws it onto your lap. You smile and put it back on him.

"I'll be fine. I have blankets inside. Get some sleep."

You start to stand, and his whines become barks. He tries to stand with you, pawing at your knee.

"Whoa, hey! Don't, you'll pull your stitches. What's wrong?"

He barks again, and nods at the forest line outside in the distance. Then he licks at his bandage.

"You're afraid the people who hurt you will get you?" you ask.

He chuffs and licks your hand.

"You're afraid they'll get... me?"

He nudges your shoulder. You touch his head and make a soft noise.

"Okay. I'll stay and keep watch. If I hear anything, I'll wake you, alright?"

The wolf grunts, then finally lays down. He shuffles closer to you, so his body is practically on your legs. He runs hot, and with him so near, you hardly feel the cold.

The wolf falls asleep before you.

****

It has been a long time since you trained with a Bat, and your nocturnal practices have faded since then.

So you wake up in the shed with a backache.

Black fur tickles your hand, and you open your eyes.

But it's not a wolf at your feet; it's a man.

A man wearing a dead boy's face.

He awakens as you do, bare and bandaged beneath the blanket. Those odd green eyes stare at you. They're wrong; all of him is wrong, but his face... you know that face.

"Jason?" you whisper, chest tight.

His sigh is full of grief.

"Hey, Nightingale."

[smellygorilla]

Hello! Today I will be ranting about why shipping the bullies and delinquents is wrong. Let’s get into it!

I don’t even know why this ship is a thing. I don’t understand the love for enimes to lovers. Like why would you go a date someone you hate so much?

I’m gonna give some context on the groups and the backstory to get my point across more clearly.

The Bullies:

The Bullies are a group of preppy girls known for gossiping and spreading rumours. They’re the reason the delinquents are who they are today (More on that later) I love the bullies, their design really projects who they are. If I saw them I really life I would think of them as mean girls,gossip girls, etc.

Group members:

Musume Ronshaku (Leader, Blue sweater)

Kashiko Murasaki (Purple sweater)

Kokoro Momoiro (Pink sweater)

Hoshiko Mizudori (Green sweater)

Hana Daidaiyama (Yellow sweater)

The Delinquents:

The Delinquents are a group of guff, aggressive boys who carry around blunt weapons for self defence. I’m not a fan of the delinquents designs solely because of their spikey hair, but that’s kinda their thing so I won’t judge. (Yes I will)

Group members:

Umeji Kizuguchi (Substitute Leader, Yellow shirt)

Hokuto Furukizu (Purple Shirt)

Gaku Hikitsuri (Red Shirt)

Dairoku Surikizu (Blue shirt)

Hayanari Tsumeato (Black shirt)

The Delinquents weren’t always “The Delinquents” Theh were bully victims. They would be like this if the counsellor took action when the bullying reports were being made. (Hate to drop her in like that but she said it herself 🤷)

Gaku was bullied for having a broken arm, he was seen as weak and vulnerable.

Hayanari was bullied for showing signs of a receding hairline.

Hokuto was bullied for his feminine mannerisms and standing up for Hayanari. (Hayanari felt so bad for this he developed a smoking habit)

Dairoku was bullied for being quiet.

Umeji’s profile doesn’t specify what he was bullied for but based his design I’m gonna say he was a very shy and timid student.

It was rumoured they were going to start a suicide pact, but overlooked because there was no concrete evidence.

On day, a girl named Osoro Shidesu was approached by a group of students from another school. She disrespected them, and they weren’t going to have that. Their plan was that they were going to beat her up, little did they know she was gonna take them all down, alone.

It’s unknown how she managed to accomplish this, but all stories end the same with Osoro covered in blood and taking the jacket of on of the students and drapping over her shoulders as “trophy”.

The delinquents were present for this event. They idolized her for it. They wanted to be like her. They were hopeful this could stop the bullying, they started following her around like ducklings. They dyed their hair blonde like her’s, they spiked their hair to be seen as relentless punks, they became more aggressive,rude and more disrespectful of faculty, and they started carrying around blunt weapons with them everywhere. This did stop the bullying, but students started to refer to them as “The Delinquents”. Students started to fear and even hate them, but maybe this is what they wanted. Maybe it was better to be feared and hated then bullied.

You see, they changed their personality and appearance just to avoid being bullied. Do you think they would really go on a date someone that traumatized them to this extent?

“But smelly._gorilla, smelly._gorilla! How can we be sure the bullies were the ones that caused all this?”

Really? First of all, the bullies are called “The Bullies” because they bully people! Second of all look at this photo.

This is Umeji’s reaction (Along with the other delinquents) to a bullies corpse or you stabbing a bully directly infront of them. Oh yeah totally perfect couple. (I’m being sarcastic)

I’m all for canon stuff in lore and I hate ships unless it canon or like Taro x Ayano. Seeing videos of bullies x delinquent shivers my timbers. This ship is extremely toxic. The lore behind the delinquents is so deep, and you’re will to throw it all away just because they look cute together? That sucks, you shouldn’t do that.

Anyways, I hate this ship and I have my reasons. If you ship them that’s kinda werid. (Sorry 😬) Thanks for reading of you did!

Bye ♥️♥️

[everythingne]

marketing ploy ln4 - ch 6

Austria goes to shit. Great Britain follows.

piastri!oc x lando norris, bestfriends brother/fake dating

warnings/notes: inappropriate comments, lando being overprotective, arguments/cursing, mildly severe car accidents (guys its an f1 fic what we were expecting. gotta do the cliche for my first fic), vague descriptions of injury, a few sexual comments, this is SO LONG. like 5k-6k words?

prev | next

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01 JULY, AUSTRIA.

I woke up with a bad feeling in my chest and an odd headache. My lone hotel room, to give Oscar and Lily some space since she was finally able to tag along again this season, felt so enclosing. Slowly pulling myself out of bed, I groaned and immediately went to get ready when I noticed the time. Luckily, it was only qualifiers today, so I didn't have much to do other than hide in my office and make sure no one's car was going to explode.

But god, on my worst day, everything has to go wrong.

First, Max's tires never got warmed. Something was broken, and I had to do so much boring bullshit paperwork. Then, Checo's brakes got sticky and we had to have him DNF. Then for some reason, half the fucking sensors hadn't even recorded anything so I couldn't even tell why they had gotten sticky. But I did feel a bit better (not at all) knowing it had also happened to a few other drivers so it wasn’t just us.

So I was having the greatest time, sarcasm fully intended. And then I completely missed seeing Oscar and Lily for lunch because I was in an emergency meeting. And by the time I got out of Red Bull's garage, it was nearing five at night and I hadn't had anything to eat or anything to drink after one water bottle and my headache still had gotten worse because of it.

And then got immediately swamped by reporters.

Luckily, I saved some class and patience and was able to make it through fine but by the time I got to McLaren's garage, I was about ready to snap at someone.

"Ollie!"

Thank god.

"Oscar." I hum as he wraps an arm around my shoulder, and then he makes a face as he notices just how exhausted I am.

"You guys had it rough today." He says and I just nod, rubbing at my jaw and rolling my neck as he steps back, leans over, and hands me a packet of some sort of assorted chocolates.

"I love you so much." I sigh as I open the packet and he laughs, dragging me further into the garage where everyone else is settled and just relaxing. McLaren had a really good day, both Lando and Oscar in Q1 and I can see everyone laughing and celebrating. A completely different feel from the tense garage at Red Bull. Lily gives me a tight hug when she sees me and urges me to come sit with her so we can catch up, we end up in a bit further and in a corner so we can have a bit of privacy. All is fine, and Lily is very quickly improving my mood as we giggle and share stories (and I happily answer all her questions about Lando and me) before we're approached by a guy I don't recognize.

"You guys need water?" He asks innocently, and though it's not extremely hot in Austria, I take one from his hands. Lily denies it, showing off the water bottle she's still drinking, and the guy seemingly just blips out.

"Weird." I hum, cracking open the water bottle and taking a sip of the cool liquid, "Never seen him before. Maybe he's new?"

"Or a volunteer?" Lily suggests and I shrug in response, eventually, Oscar comes over and wraps an arm around Lily's waist and she grins, popping a kiss on his cheek. Finally, the two of them were actually looking like a couple in public. Which, is probably what happens when two introverts start dating. I swear they didn't hold hands for months.

"Lando's being interviewed if you wanna wait for him for the media shit." Oscar pokes my hand and I pretend to flick the water bottle at him. The two of us make faces for a few seconds before I nod, taking another sip of my water bottle.

"Yeah, he and I are going out to eat again tonight. Andrea's idea." I sigh, looking over my shoulder where I can see Lando sitting with some people with a microphone in hand. I notice though it's not Sky, but rather ESPN, and I hum before turning back to Oscar and Lily and wishing them on their way. I pull out my phone, answering a few texts before someone walks up beside me. And it's the same guy from earlier.

"Oh. Hi." I say softly as he smiles at me, looking a little flustered for a second before he starts talking.

"Just wanted to say hello, I'm one of the mid-season hires. I'm an engineering assistant, Jordan." He held out his hand and I grinned, shaking his hand firmly.

"Olivia Piastri, Oscar's younger sister. I'm Red Bull's head analyst." I let go of his hand and Jordan nods, he wrings his hands before he continues talking and I feel the confidence he's trying to exhume here.

"Ah, I've seen a bit about you. Kinda hard to miss such a pretty face." Jordan grins, running a hand through his hair and tilting his head with a tiny grin. 

Is he flirting with me? Is this guy daft?

"Well, thank you. But uhm--" I look around the garage, hoping to maybe signal another person in the garage to come over and get me out of this just terribly awkward situation. Lando's wrapping up his interview, handing back his microphone and laughing softly as he shakes hands with the reporters. 

"Seriously, you're by far one of the most gorgeous girls I've seen." Jordan steps a bit closer and leans on the wall beside me with his body covering my view of the majority of the garage, "are you free tonight? I'd like to get to know you better."

I step back, putting myself back into the view of the garage as I try to keep my patience and shake my head no. I'd never had this issue before, how exactly does one stop unwanted advances? I'd never had to, I was never alone when these sorts of things happened to me. 

So, I stammer, "Ah, I'm sorry, I have a boyfriend and.."

"Ay, is he here? Because I don't see anyone staking their claim on you." Jordan grins and I tighten my grip on the water bottle and click my tongue against my teeth. Okay, if he was gonna be like that I could be bitchy too. I glance back across the room one final time, making eye contact with Jon who gives me a sharp nod, but I don't see Lando anymore. Which... could be good or bad.

"He works for McLaren, and is a part of your team, so you might wanna... not... flirt with me?" I turn back to Jordan, make an uncomfortable grimace at him, and end up tightly crossing my arms over my uniform shirt, "So..."

"Yeah, who's your boyfriend then?" Jordan hums, looking over, "Jon?"

"Me," A hand slides across my waist, fingers digging into my skin harsh enough to likely leave bruises as I'm tugged back into Lando's chest. With one hand still firm on my waist, his other hand comes to my jaw so he can turn me to press a soft kiss to my lips before he leans back and whispers, "Hi, baby."

"Hi, Nori." I smile, turning back to Jordan who raises an eyebrow. And I can already tell this is going to be terrible because he hasn't exactly backed down. I see a reporter tilt their camera at us, and I grip Lando's wrist to tell him to back off. But Lando stays close, and my cheeks tint red as Jordan starts to speak.

"Got yourself a good-lookin' girl there, Lando." Jordan grins, winking at me and making my skin crawl. Lando's hands tighten on my waist, pulling me into him a bit more if that's even possible, and now I'm not even mad that he's doing this anymore. I wanted to be doing anything else than being here.

"Mhm. Olivia's my girl, don't you know? She's been my girlfriend for a while, so why dont'cha step back?" Lando smiles, but his threat is not hidden very well. 

"Ay, it's all good Lando, I don't like to share my meals."

"Oh-kay!" I shout but Lando takes over, stepping around me to point at Jordan and get in his face. I see half the McLaren garage turn, and someone shouts to send the media out of the garage as the cameras scramble to try and take photos and videos of the altercation.

"If you know what's good for you--" Lando grits, eyes narrowing as Jordan smirks in his face. His confidence was a far cry from the scrawny guy who had walked up to me prior, Lando continues through his teeth, "You won't say anything like that again or I'll make sure you can't speak anymore."

"Sorry, man. Didn't realize this would piss you off so much," Jordan takes a step back, his smile making it known his apology was fake, and my tight grip on Lando's wrist makes it so he won't follow.

"Bye, Jordan," I say, voice soft but level. A sort of period to the end of whatever conversation Lando and Jordan had silently through their eyes before Jordan backed off and slipped into the crowd of McLaren officers off to the side. I keep my iron grip on Lando's wrist and he slowly turns around to look at me. At this point, my exhaustion and anger from the whole day is bubbling just under my skin. Unlike my twin, I was never good at completely holding myself back when I got like this.

"Lando." My tone comes out much colder than I'm expecting, and I grab his wrist again and forcefully tug him to my side as I hiss, "What the fuck was that?!"

"Did you hear what he said?"

"Yes! But was that worth threatening him?"

"What did you want me to do?" He said and when I peeked over his shoulder and saw everyone watching, I grabbed Lando by the collar and pulled him into Andrea's vacant office, slamming the door shut and pointing at him.

"I had it handled, okay?" I snap, "He was just being a jackass, you didn't have to threaten to make him unable to speak--Lando! Who the fuck says that?!"

"Did you have it handled? That was you having it handled?" Lando asks, incredulously, sitting on the edge of Andrea's desk as I stay at the door, using my heel to keep it closed just in case someone tried to push it open at any point since I knew the door didn't lock.

"You don't need to protect me like that, Lando, it's not your job!"

"It's not, I'm your boyfriend--" And the rest of what Lando says fizzles out in my head. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word that had been taunting me for weeks. Lando Norris, my boyfriend for the media. The boy who could never be mine. And something in my chest breaks, I can feel the tether finally snap, and I shout.

"No, you are not!" My volume surprises me, and I know McLaren can probably hear us immediately after saying it, so I drop my voice down to a hard snapping tone, "You aren't my boyfriend, Lando. You aren't! You can't be, no matter how much I love you, or you love me, or if we fall in love after all of this is over--you are not my boyfriend and you will never be because we can't be in love, Lando!"

"We can't? Who said that?!" He snaps back, "Do you think I've been doing all of this for media? For a fucking paycheck? God, no Ollie. I fell in love with you the first time Oscar brought you around! Do you think I agreed with this for a check? No, I agreed to that stupid contract because it's you! If it was anyone else I would've just walked the fuck out of that office, it's you I want, only you, only you, Olivia."

"But you know you can't have me, so why string me along like this? We can't be together, no matter what we want, we're gonna have to break up at some point! So why should we even try?" 

"Who cares what they say? Zak, Andrea, Christian? You're gonna let them run your life?" Lando steps closer to me, taking my jaw into his gentle hold, voice so soft I feel my heart drum against my lungs, "We do what they say, sure, but once we've completed that contractual obligation... can they tell us we can't ever be this again? Be... us, again?"

"I can't do this Lando," I whisper, bringing my hands to my chest and he steps back. The space between us suddenly felt so vast, and something in me clicked and I knew something irreversible was going to be said. That maybe I had started the downfall here, and Lando's hurt expression tells me I have.

He can only whisper, "Why?"

"I just..." I stammer, making a vague gesture to the room. There's no way for me to express the thousands of thoughts that race through my head, a constant loop of some F1 circuit of emotional mess slamming into every reasonable thought and fizzling out reason.

"Because you're scared of being loved? You're scared of what will happen if you fall in love?" Lando accuses and I can't answer those questions, because I am. I'm so scared. But not because of Lando. Because of media. So I shout the next best option.

"I never wanted the attention! I didn't become a driver because I can't handle the media like you all can! And yet I end up here, and--" I go to keep talking and Lando holds up a hand, shouting over me,

"Okay, then back out! You clearly want nothing to do with me, or this, or everything that's happening, so go tell Christian you're done!"

Silence. I swallow thickly because no. I don't want to be done. I want to fight tooth and nail for everything in this relationship, but also, was this what was best? Should I back out now, before everything we've done catches up to us? A hubris that needs to be checked? I knew from the beginning I was going to burn, but not like this. Never did I think it would be like this. 

"Olivia..." Lando whispers, and I feel something roll down my cheeks. I'm crying I realize. The world is blurry, my throat is dry, and I'm crying over a relationship I can now see we both want but... at least to me, we can never have.

Do I ask Christian..?

"No, Lando." I sigh, doting under my teary eyes, "This is why. This is why. We will end up here one day, and I can't do that. I... I'll talk to you later."

"Ollie, wait!"

I turn, leaving the office in a hurry. I shove through the McLaren workers who try to stop me and once I'm in the clear, I run. The Red Bull paddock isn't far and once I get there I can't breathe, shoving through people who now wear the same uniform as me. My office doesn't even feel safe, the flowers on my desk mocking me, and I grab them and in a fit of rage, I throw them across the room. It doesn't make the pain in my chest leave.

“Olivia!” Someone shouts and I turn, Christian just barely in the doorway. I shout, without thinking, without even pausing.

“I’m backing out! I’m done with that media stunt—!” And a hiccup breaks my sentence, “Get me out of it!”

“I—“

“—Now, Christian!”

The garage is silent after my scream, and poor Christian looks horrified as he nods, and shuts the door to my office. I let a shaky breath out as I realize what I’ve done is irreversible, but there’s so much pain in my whole heart I can’t tell if that’s what’s hurting me. I sink to my knees on the floor, a hand on my chest, a hand on the carpet, and I sob.

I don’t even know why I’m crying.

An arm is around my shoulder, a set of hands resting on my elbows as someone whispers to me. I don't even know who the people are when I look up, and the sight of both Max and Checo kneeling in front of me makes the tears double. At some point, Checo leaves, once I've calmed enough for Max to convince me to lay down with his jacket covering my legs as I hiccupped and slowed down my breathing with Max's hand applying solid pressure to my chest.

Charles and Daniel come back with Checo, who then leaves the room entirely, and I end up with my weird little mixed driver support group on the floor in my office.

Something so odd, something that should not be happening in any way, but yet here we are.

Somehow, one relationship shattering had made the other relationships in my life more clear. Relationships that had started casually and professionally, and ended up with me now having twenty or so brothers at this point. 

Brothers.

Just like Oscar.

-

Max drops me at Oscar's hotel room a few hours later when he returns from his date with Lily. She ends up going off on her own, with a few of the other WAGs, to give Oscar and me privacy. I settle on the couch, sipping a water bottle as Oscar looks out the window. I hadn't told anyone else what Lando and I had argued about, Max had kinda picked up on it as had Charles, but they had given me a berth. A space to explain. When I didn't take the invitation, they didn't try and pull me in to say anything. Which I appreciated beyond words.

"What happened?" Comes the soft voice of my twin. I knew Oscar wouldn't have been like them though. 

“I backed out,” I say, rubbing a hand along the fabric beneath me.

"What?" Oscar turns to face me, "You backed out?"

"Of the shit with Lando, I can't do it anymore. I can't have my emotions being toyed with like this anymore. And we both like each other but one day they're gonna come along and tell us we need to break up and we have to listen to them." I find a stray string in the couch stitching and begin picking it. My nails dig into them, making a slightly bigger hole. It feels like the way I'd ripped a hole into my own heart earlier.

"I had a feeling this was gonna happen." Oscar walks across the room to sit on the arm of the couch, looking over at me, "what happened?"

"I just had a shit day, and... and when this guy at McLaren started flirting excessively with me he got super overprotective and threatened the guy. Which... isn't the worst but he could've handled it better." I wave my hands, "But I had such a shit day I just blew up at him over it, and we fought, and he told me to back out if I couldn't handle it... and when I got back to Red Bull I just did it. I didn't even think and now I think I made a huge fuckin' mistake but I can't go back on it now."

"Could you talk to Christian? Ask him to wait?" Oscar hums, his hand coming up to card through my hair again and I melt into his touch as per usual.

"I dunno." I murmured, closing my eyes, "I just wanna sleep the rest of the day off."

"We can talk about it tomorrow after the race, okay?" He says, looking down at me before turning to look at his phone as it buzzes on the table. I look up at him and see his jaw tense, hand pausing on my head as he makes a face.

"Oh, Christ." He whispers, turning his phone to me. I climb up to sit next to him, eyes widening as I look over the post he shares and my stomach falls to my chest.

"This is not what Christian told me would happen," I whisper, Oscar's hand squeezing my upper arm in some sort of semblance of support. Of course, getting out of this mess with Lando wouldn't be easy.

Now I needed to talk to Christian. As soon as possible.

01 JULY, TWITTER ↴

written by Julia Sine, 01 July, 2024.

Cars aren't the only thing racing down the track in Austria this weekend, so are some hearts! In an exclusive interview after the qualifier today, multiple McLaren and Red Bull workers spoke with reporter Julia Sine about what might become the next 'it couple' after Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift.

"Lando and I first spoke about it in Bahrain. He said the two of them have been close since Oscar's rookie season last year and he was worried Olivia's job would be at stake if their relationship ever leaked to the public," Steve Atkins, McLaren's Head of Communications explained while standing in the paddock with Chief Executive Officer Zak Brown and Team Principal Andrea Stella, "I went and spoke with Christian Horner, the Team Principal of [Oracle Red Bull Racing] and we agreed that since they were on separate teams, and Olivia was an analyst and not an engineer, there was no conflict of interest. Olivia did sign an NDA, just to make sure she wasn't leaking race information to Lando but it was never brought to our attention if Olivia and Lando ended up dating."

"If the two of them are dating, which again I've had nothing clarified to me if they are or aren't, I'd imagine they've been keeping it private due to concerns with the media and fans." 

"Olivia and Lando have a very unique connection, and we here at McLaren are all supportive of relations between teams. All our drivers are friends at the end of the day and we support [Lando and Oscar] being friends with any of the drivers outside of racing. However, I will say we have seen some tensions growing between our drivers and Red Bull." Andrea spoke with me and Zak right before leaving for a meeting, Zak agreed with Andrea, and he further stated, "A lot of the tension we've been seeing with Max and Lando on the track stems from this, in my opinion."

When I made my way to Red Bull to ask some more questions about the situation, I was only able to briefly speak with Alice McLoughlin, Red Bull's Head of Communications who said, "The relationships our staff members get into is not any of our business as long as it's not a conflict of interest or damaging to the staff member themselves. I have not been told if there is for certain a relationship, but if there is I wish both of them well but we will be waiting for their announcement before we decide anything.

read more online at popsugar.uk!

--

04 JULY, 2024 - MILTON KEYNES, UK.

My phone ringing breaks the three hour silence I've subjected myself to after my meeting with Christian and Ada. The meeting where I had said me wanting to back out of the contract was emotionally charged and said I no longer wanted to. Luckily, they hadn't started the process of backing me out of the contract yet, so it was pretty easy for me to stay.

Reaching over, I grab my phone and read the contact, pausing before lifting it to my ear, "Lando..?"

"Ollie, hey... uhm, how are you?" He sounds uncertain, almost like he wasn't sure if I was going to pick up. I can't blame him for thinking that, since our last conversation was that big fight.

"Tired." I admit, but don't say it's because I've lost sleep thinking I was going to lose him, "I'm working late again tonight."

"Oh, sorry... do you want me to call you later?" I hear what sounds like a gear shifting, and I briefly wonder if he's on his sim.

"No, I'm just uploading files. And your voice is honestly more welcome than the silence of a nearly empty Red Bull garage... why'd you call?" I turn to look out the windows at the slowly setting sun, watching as the world is beginning to be coated gold.

"I wanted to apologize for the whole thing with Jordan, I shouldn't have threatened him like that." Lando's words come out rushed and squishy, like he's holding out his heart and expecting me to step on it.

I like to imagine gently covering his heart, protecting it, as I speak softly, "No, no you're fine. I was having a shitty day and I took it out on you. I really should be the one apologizing, you didn't do anything wrong. You were protecting me. Thank you for that."

"Yeah, it's fine. I'd do it a thousand times." He says, then theres a long pause. It's not akward, if anything it allows me to feel the emotions roll through me-- embarrassment at my past behavior, nervousness for his call, and a sick sort of love building in my gut that I, for once, did not push away.

Finally, Lando whispers, "did you back out?"

"I was going to, but... I talked to Christian this morning when I was a bit more level headed and we agreed I'm gonna stay." I say, and I hear him sigh with relief. A small smile bubbles across my lips, letting the giddy feeling fill my body as I tap my toes along the floor and spin my chair.

"Can you come outside?" Lando's question catches me off guard.

"What?"

"Look out your window." He says, and I scramble up from my desk and walk to the big glass panes that cover my office, looking down into the mostly vacant parking lot and there he is.

"You are something else." I whisper, then look back at my computer. I could finish the work tomorrow, "I'll be down in ten."

I scramble to save my work, kicking off my work shoes for the actual nice YSL heels I'd worn in. Once they're secure on my feet, I touch up my makeup and spritz myself with perfume. The whole time I'm giggling to myself, smiling as I pack up my desk and then throw my belongings into my purse and find myself half running to the elevator. I hurry to text Oscar that I'll be back a bit later than expected as the floors ping, and when I hit the ground floor, I throw my phone in my bag without a care, clock out and scan out, and open the door to the cool night breeze rippling across my blushing, hot skin.

God, it was so good to let myself feel this raw emotions again.

Lando pushes himself off his car, hands still in his pockets, and I bee line to him. Luckily, he kinda gets the hint of what I'm asking, and his hands come to rest on my waist when I reach him.

I pause to put my purse on the hood of his car, and then grab his collar and pull his lips to mine.

He laughs into the kiss, our teeth briefly smashing before I right us and press in deep. His arms wrap around my waist and he tugs me closer, one hand sliding up the side of the dress shirt I wear before tangling its fingers in the hair at the base of my neck. When we pull back, briefly, I giggle as he peppers kisses to my hairline before pulling me back in.

"Fuck, I missed you." He whispers against my lips and I step back, just enough to see him--and he looks exhausted. My hands come to his face and he melts into my touch, almost like he's craving it.

"I missed you too." I murmur back, watching the way he holds his eyes shut. I can see the layers of stress physically peeling away from him and being swept away by the hand I raise to run through his curls and the other hand I slide down to apply that comforting firm pressure to the chest--right under his collarbones, and then his head falls to the crook of my neck. One innocent little peck placed on my collarbone that has me shiver.

We stand like that for a while. Two silent beings in the windy, cold, English night, and eventually I convince Lando to sit in his car when my thinly covered legs start to get cold. We end up just... driving. A silence enveloping us as I rest my head on his shoulder and he keeps that damn hand on my thigh. It's gonna be the death of me. He is going to be the death of me.

But, loving Lando Norris is a death I would welcome with open arms.

04 JULY -- INSTAGRAM ↴

OLIVIAPIASTRI MADE A NEW POST!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen, and 145k others...

oliviapiastri: my pretty boy <3

landonorris: this mystery guy needs a haircut hes stealing my look >:(

⤷ oliviapiastri: you'll get over it

maxverstappen: i want u to know kelly shouted 'THANK GOD' when i showed her this post

oscarpiastri: OH SO THIS IS WHY YOU MISSED OUR FUCKING MOVIE NIGHT??

⤷ oscarpiastri: ANSWER ME HELLO?

⤷ oliviapiastri: BRO HOLD ON I AM DOING SOMEONE

⤷ opheliapiastri: OLIVIA????

⤷ oscarpiastri: HOLD THEFUCKON??? OLIVIA LOUISE RAY PIASTRI.

⤷ oaklynnpiastri: moment of silence for our mystery guy. oscar is approaching his location at rapid speeds.

⤷ landonorris: rip

⤷ oscarpiastri: shut.

⤷ oliviapiastri: @ oscarpiastri I MEANT SOMETYHIN. I MEANT TOT TYPE SOMETHING. DO NOT SHOW UP TO HIS HOUSE.

christianhorner: geri said 'good that little fucker didn't break her heart' and slammed the steak knife back into the knife holder.

⤷ oliviapiastri: OH MY GOD?? THANK U MOM?? @ gerihalliwell

⤷ gerihalliwell: of course :)! girls stick together!

09 JULY -- GREAT BRITAIN.

"Max, make sure you're giving space here. These turns can get tricky." I hear someone say in the radios, my hands fidgeting with my keychains as I watch the race on the screens, and then glance over to the sensors. All was running well, back tires a bit hot, but nothing we were concerned about.

"Ollie, tell your brothers best friend to get out of the way." Max frustratedly huffs and I laugh, leaning forward to speak into the comms.

"Logan is in P9, actually, not P1." I chime, luckily getting a soft chuckle from Max. We'd been doing exceptionally well this season as per usual, even if I had sort of stopped paying attention a bit. I did note the tensions between him and Lando were really high during this race. The two had been neck and neck since the beginning, and everytime they got a one-up on the other it just made them push harder. They had a pretty good gap between them and the rest of the racers, with Oscar holding his own in P3. It seemed like another weekend with those three on top, but at least watching this race was interesting.

The breaking sensors start flashing, indicating they're running too hot, so I chime, "Max, ease up on breaking. We might want to look into getting your tires swapped for mediums soon."

Max doesn't respond, but he does ease up on the breaking. Which makes me feel a bit better.

"Lando's coming in hot to the pit." Someone says, and I glance up over the computers and my eyebrows knit. He's driving weird. Like... almost as if he doesn't have control of steering. I see the safety car prepare for a possible departure and I stand, looking down at Max's sensors, and then someone shouting brings my attention back up.

"He can't stop!"

There was a moment where it felt like everything froze. My hands couldn’t find my mouth fast enough to hide my shock. Lando’s car slams probably two hundred kilometers into the barrier that leads into the pit lane and skids along the wall all the way inside the lane until it spins and slams into another one of the barriers. Red Bulls paddock is first in the pit this round, and I can see the smoke beginning to billow around Lando's car immediately once the car fully stops. People are shouting, McLaren engineers sort of straggling by the exit to the track as a yellow is waved, waiting for a command. I see Jon amongst them, shouting into his headset, and I hate the silence lets me hear his voice strain as he hollers,

"Lando! Lando, are you alright?"

I can't hear a response from the McLaren driver even if I strain my ears.

“Lando—come on.” I find myself saying, hearing Max and Checo on the radio asking for clarification of what happened, but also hearing someone say it was clear for people to go and get Lando out of a burning car. My headphones are yanked off my head and Christian’s hand firmly pushes me forward.

“Go.” Is all he has to say.

I’m running faster than I can carry myself, stumbling over numb legs as I sprint to the car. My hands scrape the concrete as I nearly fall, but I save myself the embarrassment of wiping out with a quick stumble and keep running. I can hear more people behind me as I climb up, holding onto the halo to stabilize myself.

“Lando!” I shout as I grab Lando’s helmet and slowly slide his head back as I start to detach him from his seat belts. Jon is there immediately, helping my shaky hands undo the devices. I keep looking at Lando's visor, trying to catch his eyes, but there’s no time to waste as I smell and hear the various engineers who'd run out trying to extinguish the car. I get one side of the belt off, starting to detach the hands device from the helmet by Jon's command when two hands grab my wrist.

Snapping my gaze up, I meet Lando’s eyes from where I’m sitting, one leg wrapped around the halo so I don’t fall, one hand on his neck as I hold the clasp to the hands device, the other on the back of the car as his eyes meet mine.

I’ve never seen Lando look so…terrified. His bright eyes are staring me down, pupils small and shaking as his grip tightens on me. I know my own eyes can’t look much different.

“Ollie?” He whispers and I shush him, detaching him from the car fully as I grab him by the shoulders.

“I got you, Nori. Jon and I got you.” I say softly, looking up to where other drivers are stopped on the track—standing up in their cars to get a better view, “get up so everyone knows you’re okay.”

Lando’s hands grab my shoulders, my hands sliding to his ribs as I slowly help him to his feet with Jon on standby. Medical and McLaren officials swarm around us, hands out and ready to help as I slowly unlatch my leg and slide off the side of the car. Lando’s weight on me is nearly crushing, but once we get him out he collapses even further into my arms in a cry of agony. Two hands find my back, medics reaching to grab Lando and I almost fight them in retaliation.

“Ollie!” someone shouts and I turn to see Jon running along to the medics side. I feel stuck, trying to swallow something that makes my eyes burn. Lando’s still got a vice grip on my wrist and when the medics try to separate us—it only tightens.

“Mr. Norris—“ The woman tries.

“Lando.” I finally find the courage to move forward, they’ve got him on a gurney now, trying to lay him back but he keeps fighting them. I can’t begin to understand why, “you’re okay. Let them take care of you.”

They tilt his visor up, and I gently lay him back, Jon reciting medical information over my head as they begin to assess his damage, still pulling us further away from the car which I note is now long extinguished. They stop us at McLaren's paddocks, Jon dipping inside to grab Lando's things as we wait for an ambulance to meet us here.

“Olivia.” I hear Lando’s muffled voice and I feel tears fill my eyes as I lean down, pressing my forehead to where his visor now lays and let out a shuttering sigh that makes my body ache just as much as my heart.

“You’ll be okay, Lando. But you have to let them help you.” I speak in a strained voice, feeling one of his hands come to wrap around my waist. I find his other hand and squeeze it, before that hand comes to rest under his helmet, “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I don’t wanna go without you.” he whispers, my heart shattering into a thousand pieces at his soft plea for me to stay. But I know its useless.

"I'm so sorry, baby." The words feel forced out of my mouth with how much effort it takes it whisper them, "You gotta go. And I have to stay."

"Ollie, please..." He whispers, and I press a kiss to the spot on his helmet where his lips would be, then take his gloved hand on my waist and lift it to my lips and kiss his hidden knuckles. The barrier feels unfair, but I'm doing what I can.

"As soon as I can be, I will be by your side." I say as Jon reappears, the ambulance coming up screaming besides us.

"You promise?" Lando says under the sirens and the shouting and I nod.

"I swear on my life."

That's what ends up being enough, because Lando finally lets go of me after one more final kiss to the 'mouth' of his helmet. The medics and EMTs swarm us, carefully moving Lando who groans and gasps in pain. I can't imagine what injuries he might have as they slowly and carefully load him into the back of the ambulance. Jon speaks with Lando all the while, and right before the doors slam he turns to me and shouts,

"I've got him, Olivia!"

And all I can do is nod, blinking back tears as the doors shut. The second they're pulling away I find myself crying, full body shaking that wrecks me, and I manage to be pulled into the sanctuary of the Red Bull garage by Kylie and a few other employees before it can really be taken advantage of for media points.

But I know I'll keep on my promise. Especially when Christian tells me to just do one thing.

"Go."

taglist (thank you!)

@harrysdimple05 @charli123456789 @fangirl125reader @dark-night-sky-99 @starmanv @ophcelia @buendiabebeta

[heli-writes]

Heartbreak and other nuisances, part 2.

Pairing: Pro-hero!Deku x female!reader

Summary: Love is never easy, especially when you're the number one hero of Japan. After getting dumped by his childhood love, Deku just can't seem to get it right, much to his mother's disappointment. When he meets y/n, he is convinced it will just be a one-night stand. Or being fuck buddies. His broken heart stands in his way. And you've got your own demons to fight.

Disclaimer: nsfw, smut, oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, angst, heartbreak, bisexuality

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Minors do not interact.

Note: I finally got around to write a second part of this!

Part 1, Part 2

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku massages his temples. It's been just a couple of hours but the day is already too long. Izuku considers himself the kind of hero who prefers working outside, on the street. Patrolling, taking on missions, actively helping and saving people. That's why he became a hero in the first place.

He's shy by nature and therefore working with the press and fans is not really his thing. Over the years, he learned to play along. Smile at fans, give funny answers in interviews and always seem collected and content. Truth is though, most of these times he feels rather uncomfortable. Despite his reputation, it's still hard to believe that people look up to him, and idolize him even. Inside, he's still that weird quirkless nerd Kacchan always made fun of.

Interviews are even worse. He feels like these interviewers are always out to get him. Try to squeeze something juicy out of him, something scandalous, something that could potentially ruin his career.

“Mr. Deku, you're almost up.”

A worker from the TV station rips him out of his thoughts. He puts on a brave smile and gives her a nod.

“Alright, I'm ready whenever!”, he tells the worker.

The worker disappears and Izuku can hear the TV host introduce his appearance.

Time to put on a show, he thinks.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

So far the questions have been tame. Mostly, the male host asked him about his work on the street and some upcoming fan events. Stuff he feels comfortable talking about. The female host chirped in here and there asking about his costume and the heroes that he teams up with from time to time. Izuku is very glad she didn't ask about his rivalry with Dynamight.

“So while we're talking about fans. We all know you are very popular with the ladies. Tell us, Deku, can you give our viewers some hope? Would you ever be open to dating a fan?”, the female host flashes him some pearly white teeth. Deku doesn't like where this is going. Predictable, expectable? Yes, both. Uncomfortable? Also yes.

“Well, I don't see why I wouldn't. I used to be a huge fan of All Might and he's basically my dad now.”, Izuku chuckles. He hopes mentioning All Might and his relationship with his mother is enough to divert the interviewer's curiosity. He rarely talks about them publicly. So, basically, he's throwing her a bone.

“I bet that's a huge relief for our viewers. But would any of them even have a chance? Are you open to date at the moment?”, the hostess continues her prodding.

An image of you pined beneath him flashes through his mind. Is he ready to date? He doesn't know.

Izuku gives her an awkward laugh.

“I guess I have to disappoint. The job is filling my days, thoughts and heart. I'm afraid there is not much room for anything else.”, he tells her.

When the woman gives him a Cheshire cat smile, he knows she's about to say something bad. Bad for him, but good for her.

“Yes, I bet serious dating must be hard in your line of work. But what about casual dating? There have been reports of you being seen with different women over the last year.”, she tells him innocently.

Izuku wants to roll his eyes. Really? That's where she is going? As if being photographed with someone means he's dating them.

Another image of you is flashing through his mind. This time you're sitting across from him in that bar. Looking all pretty in that dress, giving him bedroom eyes.

He's sure no one took pictures of you. His PR team would've given him hell if an image like that was leaked. Also, he's not dating you, not even casually. He slept with you one time.

And yet you left your contacts at his place.

“I'm afraid I'm not the type to date causally.”, he tells the interviewer and flashes her one of his signature smiles. Checkmate. Izuku feels triumphant when he sees the hostess's disappointed smile.

It disappears when the camera zooms in on her. “Well, ladies, you've heard it here! If our favorite hero falls for you, he's all in!”, she tells the camera with a booming smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku feels more exhausted than he usually does. After he was finally allowed to go backstage again, people swarmed him. His PR team clapped him on the back, praising his witty answers. A backstage worker asked for an autograph for his kid. When he finally can retire to his dressing room, he's spent.

He slumps down in the chair in front of the big mirror with the big, round Hollywood-style lightbulbs around it. The bright light burns in his eyes. He takes a look at the reflection that stares back at him. The light makes him paler than he is. His skin looks almost ghostly and the makeup on his face suddenly does very little to hide the dark circles under his eyes. But, hey, at least his hair still looks perfect.

He can't seem to look away from his own image. For a moment he wonders if it's self-conceit so many heroes seem to carry. He watches his eyebrow furrow. That's not it. It's more like... looking at a stranger and trying to figure them out. What are they thinking? Do they have good intentions or bad ones? Can they be trusted? He scans his face like he does with villains and people in the street when he's patrolling.

He comes up with nothing.

He sighs and pushes a hand into the pocket of his pants. His fingers brush over the rough edges of the paper that's been sitting there for a couple of days now. By now the card must be bent and cracked. He pulls out your business card and looks at it.

Tutela Idumentis LLC Y/N L/N y/n.l/n@tutela-idumentis.com +1 711 23456

Of course, he's been nosy about the company on the card, so he googled it. Very quickly he ended up at an online store of a workwear clothing brand. Turns out, there's also a store of the brand here in Musutafu. Considering the lack of a title on your business card, he assumes you must work there as a store worker or something. Seems as if you aren't even a store manager.

He turns the card over and back to the front. He's tempted to send a text to the number on the card. That's why you left it, right? He sighs and shoves the card back into his pocket. Like he's done quite a few times before.

He doesn't need to text you. It's a bad idea. You both made it clear that you don't want a relationship. A hookup is fine, but turning it into a regular thing? That's the way you get caught by the press. Also, he's not sure if he can trust you. You had this aura around you. Kind of sneaky. And there's a devilish spark behind your eyes. He feels like it's best not to mess with you. He had a good night, you left and kept quiet about it. No big deal.

He decides that it's best to go home now. He gathers his things including a duffle bag with his hero costume and makes his way to the door. Usually, his security team would make sure that there is a car waiting for him but today he drove himself to the TV station. It gives him a certain authority over his own day instead of being dragged from one place to another. Lately, he's been feeling that most things lie outside of his control, so he enjoys these little decisions he can make for himself. Even if his head of security isn't always happy about them.

He manages to avoid most people on his way to the parking garage. After he's put his bag into the trunk, he slides into the driver's seat. He takes out his phone to put in the route back home. When he activates the mobile data on his phone, a flood of messages comes in. He's ignoring most of them but something catches his eye.

📷 @dynamight posted a new picture

He clicks on the notification and is led to Katsuki's Instagram page. He swallows hard when he sees the image Kacchan posted. It's a young woman in a white summer dress turning her back towards the camera with her arm outstretched behind her holding Katsuki's hand that can be seen at the bottom of the photo.

Izuku has met Kacchan's girlfriend before, even if it was only in passing. And yet the image of her burned itself into Izuku's mind. He's certain that it's her in the picture. Obviously, they are still together. But more importantly: Now they're officially together. That's more Izuku ever got from Katsuki.

Katsuki kept his relationship under wraps. Of course, there were rumors that he was seeing someone because the press always finds out. But he never commented on it, not even to deny the allegations.

And now he posted her. For the whole world to see. Telling everybody proudly: “That's my girl!”. No “We need to be careful.” or “Can you imagine what happens if this gets out?”. Izuku tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He feels betrayed. It's unfair. Why does this woman get what he wanted? What he waited for for so long? And she gets it this quickly? It makes him want to hate Katsuki. He's not sure what is boiling in his stomach, hurt or anger. Maybe both.

Quickly, he swipes the app away and opens maps.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He thought about it the whole way home. He was brooding over the implications of the picture Katsuki posted. About how it will change Katsuki's life and his work as a hero. From now on, he probably will bring his girlfriend to every red carpet event. The same events Izuku is invited to. Pushing the image of him and her further down his throat.

The silence of his apartment welcomes him. He doesn't turn on the big lights just yet. Instead, he opens the refrigerator and stays in the cool, dim light of it. He rummages through it to find something edible but nothing seems to raise his appetite.

He opens his phone again. Stares at the picture for a while. Then, he pulls out your business card. He puts the card and the phone next to each other on the counter. Stares at them until they blur together in his vision. His heart is pounding.

Finally, he picks up his phone again and types in your number.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

To say you're surprised to hear from the Nr. 1 hero of Japan again is an understatement. After a couple of days have passed without him texting you, you actually forgot about him. You don't dwell on hookups very long, even when they're rich and famous. You've met quite a few rich and famous people in your lifetime and you have to say that most of them are absolute pricks. Especially the male ones.

So, you were quite surprised when Izuku texted you inviting you for dinner. You find that invitation rather odd. Didn't he just recently say in an interview that he doesn't date? Casually or otherwise? And if he wants to hook up again, he doesn't really need to take you out first. After all, you know where he lives and you most certainly are down to go again.

He may be a rich famous prick, but at least he knows what he's doing in bed. Well, to be fair, he didn't strike you as a prick. Maybe a bit desperate for praise, but all in all he was quite respectful. At least he didn't use your contact info to force a signed NDA out of you.

You wipe at the side of your eye. Your eyeliner didn't turn out the way you want it to look like. You contemplate wiping it off completely but you decide it's probably not worth it anyway. It's likely your makeup won't stay in place this evening anyway. At least, that's your intention.

It'd be kind of funny if Izuku had serious intentions with this date. Well, not really, but it's always funny to you when men are easily wrapped around your finger. It's funny to see men's logical thinking going out of the window when a female body is involved.

You slip into the fancy dress you picked for tonight. Izuku told you that the restaurant he's taking you requires formal wear. You find it comical that he invites you out to such a fancy dinner. You wonder if letting him come inside is enough for him to fall in love. It makes you think he's a little bit pathetic. You're not interested in a relationship. You've got work to do and high ambitions. Romantic relations tend to stand in one's way. Moreover, you never were the relationship kind of person.

Your phone rings and you see that Izuku texted you that he's waiting for you downstairs. You grab your purse and make your way to the door.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku expected you to live in a small apartment in the city. Probably in an area with cheap corner stores and buildings that have long passed their prime days. Somewhere cheap, but not run down. Somewhere where people with normal jobs or many children live.

However, you live in the suburbs. In a nice neighborhood with families that have two cars in their driveways and a simple, but modern architecture. Apparently, you have a whole house to yourself. He wonders if it's your childhood home.

He parks the car in front of your front door and shoots you a text. Waiting for you, he feels kind of nervous. He wonders if this is really a good idea. He's not sure what he hopes to come from this. He's not ready to move on and he's sick and tired of superficial meetings and onenightstands. He concludes he must be trying to numb himself from the fact that he won't find love anytime soon or ever for that matter.

He swallows hard when he sees you stepping outside the door. You're wearing a long, red dress with a slit that goes up to your hip leaving the plumpness of your upper leg exposed. He did tell you that the place he's taking you requires formal wear but this dress looks like you certainly had something different in mind than just grabbing dinner. You're stunning and Izuku suddenly feels intimidated by you. Clearly, you're dressed to kill, or rather to fuck.

You walk up to his car and get in at the passenger side.

“Hey.”, you greet him with a toothy smile and Izuku has to admit that the smile makes you look even more stunning.

“Hey”, he tells you back. He knows he must sound a bit stiff, but to be fair he has no idea where he is going with all this.

An awkward silence befalls the car as he starts the engine and pulls out of your street. You can see how tense Izuku is. Clearly, he's nervous or at least highly uncomfortable. You wonder why he invited you in the first place. Also, you find it strange how the usually confident, sympathetic hero is reduced to... this. Somehow you doubt it's due to him being intimidated by your sex appeal.

When Izuku doesn't start a conversation, you do. You attempt to make some small talk with him.

“So, how was work today?”, you ask him. Izuku takes a moment to answer.

“It's been alright, I guess.”, he replies vaguely. Internally, you want to groan. You opened up the stage for him to boast about his work. That's what men like to do, right? Especially men who work in his field! You manage to avoid rolling your eyes.

“Alright, how are things on the street then? Patrol keeping you busy?”, you continue to ask him. You can hear Izuku breathing in in relaxation.

“It's been alright. Some villains here and there but mostly things are quiet.”, he tells you.

“Really, I mean that must mean you can relax a lot, right?”, you say teasingly. Izuku lets out a laugh and you think it's a nice sound.

“I wish that was the case. But a hero's work does not stop at patrolling.”, he tells you.

“I bet. All that press work. And do you not also lead charity for the quirkless? I've always wondered what that is about. Since when do quirkless people need charity? Just because they're quirkless, doesn't mean they can't have a job and life like normal people.”, you say.

“Of course!”, Izuku replies feverishly, “That's not what the charity is about. It's about integration into society, about perspectives.”

You notice that Izuku's whole body language shifts. His chest is all puffed and he pushes his chin forward. You have to smile smugly. Seems like you've found something to poke him with.

“Integration? Perspectives? Sounds to me as if you consider the quirkless as some second-class citizens.”, you tease him. You try to make your voice sound all serious.

“No, not at all! But it's just a fact that the quirkless are treated differently in our superhero society. They're often excluded, are not given the same chances as others.”, he tells you. There's a passionate look in his eyes and you start to feel soft. It's sweet how passionately he feels about the situation of the quirkless.

“And your charity tries to do something against it?”, you ask in a kinder voice.

“Yes, we do. I know there's only so much we can do, at least until the rest of the people change their minds, but still... I think it's important. It shouldn't matter if a person has a powerful quirk or none at all. We're all people.”, he tells you.

You keep looking at the profile of his face. Izuku's eyes are set on the road ahead, but the look in them is stern and determined. Clearly, this topic is important to him. You wonder if it's alright to reveal something real about yourself.

“My mother is quirkless.”

You study how his facial expression changes. For a second, his eyes widen. His grip on the steering wheel loosens a bit.

“Oh, I didn't know that. I'm sorry if I talked about this as if I know more than you.”, he says a bit more quietly.

You shrug and laugh a bit.

“It's alright. My mother has a good life. She married wisely, I guess.”, you ponder. From the corner of your eye, you can see that Izuku gives you a side-eye.

After that, silence befalls the car again. This time you don't attempt to make conversation. The topic dimmed your mood.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the restaurant, the staff shows you to your seats. The waiter shows you two to a private booth out of sight by most people in the restaurant. You conclude that Izuku must've chosen this place in order to have some privacy. He probably couldn't take you to many other places. Suddenly, you feel sorry for Izuku not being able to just go on a date without having to think too much about it. Then again, he chose this life and that's just one of the many negative aspects of being a hero. Grimly, you think about how you are glad to live a different life.

“Have you already chosen, ma'am?”

The waiter rips you out of your thoughts. You blink a couple of times and turn your attention to the menu card that you are holding in your hands.

After the waiter takes your orders, Izuku and you are left alone in the tiny booth again. Again, an awkward silence befalls you. Izuku clears his throat.

“So... um you work in the clothing industry?”, he asks you. You give him a court nod.

“Yes, we opened a store here in Musutafu recently.”, you tell him. He nods. Seems as if he was right when he assumed you worked at the local store.

“You like working here?”, he continues to ask. You shrug.

“I guess. My family's originally from Japan, so I guess it's nice being able to see that side of the family more often.”, you ponder.

“Oh, you didn't grow up here?”, he wonders and you shake your head.

“Nah, I grew up in America. Moved there because of my dad's job.”, you say. Izuku nods understandingly.

“I wish I could've spent a semester or so abroad, like All Might. But in the end that wasn't possible.”, he laughs awkwardly.

“Well, you didn't miss much. America isn't as great as everybody makes it out to be. Especially when you work in the hero business. The paparazzi are hell there.”, you say sympathetically.

Izuku rubs the back of his head and laughs again.

“Well, they're not great here either. Can be a real pain to be honest.”, he replies.

You were just about to answer him when the waiter arrived with your food. Once the plates are set in front of you, the conversation dies down as you two eat. This time a comfortable silence surrounds you. After dinner, you two stay for another round of drinks and the conversation flows more easily. You ask him about what he likes to do after hours and his time at U.A. He asks questions about your life in America. He notices how you only vaguely answer them. Eventually you two pay and make your way back home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku parks in front of your house again. It's already dark outside and only the streetlights illuminate the inside of the car. Izuku's turned to you and you can barely see the freckles on his cheeks.

“I had a good time.”, you say and you mean it. Despite the occasional awkwardness, it was a nice date. And to be fair, Izuku's kind of cute when he's flustered. You teased him on purpose from time to time to bring that flustered expression out of him. You know it's probably a bit mean but you enjoy it too much to stop. Maybe it's your kink to see powerful men in weak positions.

Right now, Izuku wears exactly that expression and you can't help but smirk.

“Y-yeah... it's... it was nice. Maybe we could-”, Izuku can't finish his sentence. With a firm hold on his shirt, you yank him forward and press your lips against his. For the first few seconds, his brain barely reacts to what is happening. Then, he slowly puts his arms around you and kisses you back. You run your hands through his hair and deepen the kiss. A pleasant shiver runs down Izuku's spine. He places a hand on the back of your neck and pulls your face back onto his when you try to break the kiss apart.

You try to press your chest against his but the interior of the car is in your way. Suddenly, a light down the street gets turned on and you two quickly fall apart. It's a dog walker activating a porch light. Izuku pushes your head down. You stay like this until the walker has passed.

“Y'know if you wanted my head in your crotch, you could've just asked.”, you tell him grinningly.

Izuku lets go of your head and straightens his posture. He lets out a breath he didn't notice he was holding.

“I'm sorry... it's just...”, he starts.

“It's okay. You don't want to get caught. Career and everything.”, you say understandingly and Izuku is glad you get it. Then there's a mischievous gleam in your eyes and you grip onto his shirt again.

“But y'know... There is no such thing as bad press.”, you say and pull him back into your mouth again. Izuku groans and then pushes you away.

“We really shouldn't... not here...”, he trails while his eyes are fixated on your lips. You can already see his self-control slipping.

“Come up with me then.”, you invite him.

Izuku hesitates. You reach out your hand and lightly push your hand through the sides of his hair. Then, you cup his cheek. Softly, you trail his lips.

“Please.”

Izuku lets out a shaky breath before sighing. “You're a devil”, he tells you and you laugh.

“So, you're coming up then?”, you grin.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Izuku didn't expect your home to look so... homely. He lowkey expected either very modern furniture that has a lot of flat surfaces with nothing on it or very old furniture that you inherited from your parents (like the house most likely). However, the inside of your house is tasteful. Soft beige and blue pastel tones dominate the rooms. The décor is feminine and simple. Dried flowers in vases, fairy lights, and soft blankets. He wonders what's it with you and blankets. You seem to keep one in every room.

You lead him through the living room to the staircase where you take him upstairs into your bedroom. Your bedroom is in the same style as the rest of the house. Izuku admits it's very cozy. He much rather slip under your bed's covers underneath the fairy lights and fall asleep than do whatever you've got planned.

He's still looking around the room when you start to take off your shoes and dress. He's taken aback when he notices you undressing and tries to avoid looking in your direction. As if he hasn't seen you naked before.

You catch his awkward look and have to chuckle. “Can you help me with this?”, you ask and point to the back of your bra. There's no denying it. You love teasing him. Swiftly and precisely, he opens your bra and you slip it off. You feel sorry for the man, so you pull a T-shirt over your head.

“Metalon? You like old-schooled heroes like that?”, Izuku asks teasingly. Only then do you notice the shirt you pulled over your head. Immediately, you're embarrassed.

“No, not really.”, you quickly say and pull the T-shirt over your head again. Izuku watches you with furrowed brows. While you are rummaging through your wardrobe for another T-shirt, he wonders if his comment made you feel so insecure that you felt the need to change clothes.

“You know, you didn't need to change it. It was just a joke.”, he tells you. You pull a sour grimace. “Yeah, I know.”, you answer him courtly. But nothing is more off-putting than wearing your dad's clothes before having sex with someone, you think.

Quickly, you dive under the covers on your bed and get cozy. You wave for Izuku to join you. Izuku slips out of his pants and shirt and joins you in the bed. Your blankets feel as soft as they look, he decides. You slide closer next to him. Your skin feels warm underneath his and he puts an arm around you. He's sure he could fall asleep then and there if it wasn't for you kissing up his neck.

He groans when you suck on that sweet spot just beneath his ear. He turns his head and meets you in a kiss. The kiss quickly becomes heated and he can feel your tongue begging for entrance. At the same time, your hand trails a pattern on the skin of his chest. A shiver of anticipation runs down his spine as he feels your fingers trail lower with each passing second. His left-hand finds its way to your breasts as well. Gently, he massages one of them through the plain black T-shirt you're wearing. Carefully, you break the kiss apart.

“You can take it off, you know?”, you say while looking at him with hooded eyes. Carefully, Izuku lifts the shirt over your head. He takes a moment to take in the sight in front of him. You're beautiful. Part of him wishes you'd take off the panties as well. Before he can dwell on the sight too long, you shuffle closer to him. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and push your breasts against his chest.

Izuku pulls you closer, softly petting the skin of your back. It's been a while since he felt as comfortable and warm as he does now. It doesn't even bother him that you two are about to turn things sexual. Actually, it excites him. Usually, he's in for a quick fuck. Trying to ignore the person in front of him, just chasing his own release. It makes things easier. Easier to not get attached. He doesn't care about this this time. He longs for that closeness. That closeness he used to have with...

He pushes the thought out of his mind. He's with you right now. And right now you're sucking and biting on his earlobe which gets harder to ignore with each passing second. He lets his hands wander into your hair. Gently, he angles your head in a way that he can kiss you again. While he kisses you this time, you hold onto his arms. He can feel you rocking your hips against his. Seems as if you're already in the mood. Carefully, he breaks the kiss apart.

“You want it? Then you need to work for it.”, he tells you huskily. You groan and roll your eyes.

“You're mean.”, you reply. Then, you give him a devilish smile and disappear beneath the blanket.

Izuku leans back in anticipation. He can feel your hands running up and down his legs before pulling his boxers down. He puts his arm underneath the blanket and scratches the back of your head. It isn't long before he can feel you licking a stripe up and down his half-hard member. You take the still kind of limp dick in your mouth and gently massage it with your tongue. You can hear Izuku groan above you. It doesn't take long before Izuku's fully erect. Only then, you start bobbing your head up and down his length. The muscles in Izuku's legs tense up and you notice how he fights the urge to thrust up into your mouth. You contemplate whether Izuku's able to get another one up if you finish him like this. Eventually, you decide it's not worth the shot. You do want to get some tonight as well.

Luckily for you, Izuku must be thinking a similar thing since he pulls you up from his dick at some point. You crawl up Izuku's body and place both hands on either side of his head holding yourself up. That position only lasts a few seconds as Izuku pulls you down against him. He kisses you again and gropes your ass. You run your hands through his hair. You can feel him slide his dick over your clothed pussy and you have to break the kiss moaning.

“You think we can take this off?”, he asks you while pulling on the elastic band of your panties.

“Definitely.”, you pant.

Deku holds up your hips with one arm and uses his other hand to pull down your panties in one swift motion. Carefully, he places your hips down again and runs a hand up and down your leg.

“You're beautiful.”, he says in a soft voice and leans down to kiss you again.

Somehow this feels different, you decide. The way he lightly pushes you down into your plush pillow. How he caresses the skin of your hips. How he lets his lips ghost over your shoulder up to your neck before carefully sucking on the sensitive skin on your throat.

It's so different than last time. Everything feels softer, but more firmly too. As if Izuku thinks exactly what to touch next. It's a stark contrast to the needy heat of last time. You bask in the anticipation Izuku builds up with his soft but determined touch.

Finally, Izuku's hands dip in between your legs and you gasp at the feeling of his fingers running through your slick folds. Gently, he massages the wet flesh carefully avoiding your clit and hole. The skin on the back of your neck starts to itch. You need him. You need him to finally give you satisfaction. You groan in frustration.

“What is it, princess? Are you not feeling good?”, he asks you.

You bite your lip before answering: “I'm feeling good, Izuku. Just... just please!”.

He doesn't tease you. Doesn't say something along the lines: “Use your voice. Tell me what you want”. No, he leans down to kiss your mouth again. While kissing, he finally touches your clit. You thrust your hips upwards to his hand. Gently he rubs circles on the sensitive bud. You break the kiss moaning.

“Shit.”, you curse. You can't help but look down. Where his hand meets your womanhood. You can feel the wetness pooling between your folds. Izuku kisses the side of your face.

“Focus on me.”, he tells you and you look up to him. He leans over your side and you stroke the side of his face. His green eyes capture yours and you can't seem to look away. One of his fingers finds your hole and enters you. Again, you gasp gently but you don't look away.

There's something sensual and intimate about looking into somebody's eyes while they're inside you. You can feel your heart beating out of rhythm with Izuku's fingers entering and exiting you. You can't help but want more. You want him hovering above you, your hands running down his sweat-stained chest and his cock inside you in the same rhythm as your heartbeat.

“Izuku”, you pant, “Don't you want to fuck me?”

Izuku groans and leans down to suck on your nipple. When his eyes find yours again, he says “Desperately so”. He pulls his fingers out of you and you rummage to find a condom.

Once you pulled it over his dick, you get in position. He's taking you missionary this time and you think it's fitting for tonight. Gently, Izuku spreads your legs apart and you lead him to your entrance. Slowly, he enters you while leaning down to your face again. He gives you a moment to adjust before setting a slow pace.

You wrap your arms around his neck and enjoy just how deep he reaches you. Goddamnit, he's so sexy, you think. The way his green locks fall into his face. The way his face contorts in pleasure. The way short, sharp breathes exit his mouth. You want to watch him fall apart.

You stop his thrusting and push against his chest. Izuku stops and gives you a puzzled look. “What?”, he asks you.

“Sit up and lean against the headboard.”, you tell him. Izuku follows your order and sits at the head of your bed. You crawl up to him, gently kissing his leg before sitting up and hovering over his dick. Gently you touch his cheek before sinking down on his cock.

Izuku lets out a long moan and pants when your pussy is finally fully stretched above him. Carefully, you start rocking your hips. Izuku's hands immediately fly up to your sides helping you with your motions. You lean back, steadying yourself with your hands on his legs. You give him a full display of your tits and the way his dick slides in and out of you. His eyes almost bulge out of their sockets and you need to suppress the urge to laugh at him.

You fuck him like this until his head falls back against the headboard. Only then, you sit up again. You continue rocking your hips but you lean towards him wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close.

“I-i don't think I last very long anymore...”, he tells you panting and you have to smirk.

“Good.”, you whisper back at him.

You start a faster, more grinding pace on him and Izuku throws his head back again in a choked moan. You grind on him harder than before and you enjoy how the base of his cock stimulates the hard bud of your clitoris. Keeping the pace up, you start chasing your own high.

“Sh-shit, y/n...”, you hear him groan and you can feel his cock twitch inside you. You rock your hips harder into him getting more friction to your clit. You feel how his hands grip your hips but you're too lost in your own pleasure to care what he's doing. You can feel the heavy feeling in your stomach building up indicating that an orgasm will hit you soon. You grip onto his shoulders and blend out his moans and heavy breathing. Finally, you fuck yourself over the edge and your pussy starts spasming around his member. Izuku lets out a “Fuck, yes!” and comes with a shudder.

You stay on his cock trying to catch your breath. Izuku's head lolled onto your shoulder when he came. He stays nuzzled into your neck, softly caressing the skin of your lower back. You can already feel Izuku's dick softening inside of you but you don't want to get off yet. The expectation for this night was to have steamy, hot sex with him. Instead, you fucked more like lovers than strangers.

A cold shiver runs down your spine. You don't want a lover. You tap his shoulder and Izuku looks up with hooded eyes. Carefully, you slide off of him. The feeling of him slipping out of you leaves you feeling empty. It seems as if Izuku is brought back to reality as he clears his throat.

“Where's your bathroom?”, he asks and you point to a door at the side. He slides out of bed picking up his boxers on the way to the bathroom. You lean back against the headboard.

“Shit.”, you mumble. Quickly, you get up and open the window as wide as possible in hopes that some cool, fresh air can order your thoughts. What was I thinking fucking him like this?, you ask yourself. Izuku strikes you as a man who falls in love quickly. You don't want to give him any false hopes.

But it felt so good. Being held like that. Being worshipped like that.

You rub your temple and start looking through a drawer. You pull out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You rarely smoke and if you do, you do it with a purpose. To piss off your parents. To impress someone with smoke rings. To calm your head when stressed. You light up a cigarette and take in a deep breath.

“Care to share?”, Izuku's voice can be heard behind you. You don't respond but lift up the half-full cigarette pack up to him. You feel him stepping closer to you and taking the pack from you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body on your back. He's not touching you but he's awfully close. You hear the clicking of the lighter and Izuku taking a pull of his cigarette.

A smoke ring wavers outside the window beside you. Then you feel his hand on your hip.

“That was intense.”, he tells you and you have to laugh.

“Yeah, I guess it was.”, you reply and take another drag.

Izuku snips some ash from his cigarette and you can't help but lean back against him. He presses a kiss into the base of your neck. His green hair tickles your skin.

“I wonder...”, he starts and you want to cringe. Izuku clears his throat.

“I wonder if you'd like to make this a regular thing.”, he says and you halt.

“What do you mean?”, you ask unsurely. Please don't ask me to start dating you, you beg internally.

“Us. Fucking.”, he replies and you turn around to him in disbelief. He must've noticed the surprised look on your face and he shrugs.

“You want good sex, didn't you say that? And I need to blow off some steam once in a while.”, he explains. A smirk blooms on your face.

“Wow, you're that confident in your expertise? Think you can keep me satisfied longterm?”, you tease him. Izuku lets go of your hip and puts a hand under your chin raising it a bit.

“Believe me, I haven't even started to show you what I can do.”, he tells you with darkened eyes. You raise your eyebrow challenging.

“I guess that means I have to find out.”, you tell him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @yupsthings @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @scrumptiouslampwobblercop @sillycattie @tiredjuniper @nine-lives715 @dinorawrss @tomiokasecretlover @kousloverr @whippedbyikemen @potatocatsan @orgasmofwine @otakukittyowo

[Please comment if you'd like to be tagged in possible future parts. If you're already on the tag list, you don't need to comment again.]

[going-fanfics17]

assumed ( Woozi * OC )

Summary= people can't see others succeed. They just have to drag everyone down along with them and try to tarnish reputations.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The article released by bbc caused a huge stir among Carats, they were furious and rightfully so, their favourite producer had been targeted by brainless journalists who could care less about the truth and were just money hungry. Twisting his words, they accused Woozi of using AI for writing his song lyrics. Completely disregarding his creativity, his passion and his hardwork. It was devastating to see his credit being taken away. And even though the whole Carat fandom was backing him up and tearing down Pledis and BBC for such a ridiculous article, Woozi couldn't help but lock himself in the studio and throw around things in anger.

When Scoups and Jeonghan failed to get him to come out, they called his girlfriend to come to their rescue. She drove down to the studio in 10 minutes. The guys left her alone to give the couple privacy.

"Jihoon-ah, it's me. Please open the door," she said softly.

"No," his voice sounded rough and broken.

"Then I guess I will sit here till you agree to open the door," she said as she plopped down on the floor and took out a packet of chips.

It was silent for half an hour and Y/N could sometimes hear her boyfriend sniffle and sob quietly.

"Do you know how many people think of you as their role model?", she asked .

No answer.

"14 million Carats and other kpop idols as well," she answered.

"Do you know how many people are defending you?"

No answer.

"14 million"

"Jihoon-ah, you only had 1000 korean won and a dream to produce music because you wanted to showcase your creativity and passion to the world. Don't let some bully take away your confidence and discredit you. You have worked hard, spent nights in this studio, starved yourself, to write the best songs. And the boys, the fans and me, we couldn't be more proud. Don't let them take it all away. they have no idea how hard you have worked."

Woozi mumbled something from the other side of the door.

The door opened and he stood there with a tear stained face ,"And Wonwoo's Macbook."

Y/N got up from the floor and hugged him. "You are the best producer who has written and produced 157 songs all on your own without the help of AI. You have the greatest range I have ever seen. You express emotions in your songs, you write songs of all genres. You should be proud of yourself, my love."

"Thank you," he said as Y/N kissed his cheek.

"You know what? Speak up. Clear up things. The evil people need to hear that. They can't just go on twisting your words and assuming things," she said as she went to his desk and picked up his phone and handed it to him.

"You are right. I will stand up to them. They don't have the right to take away my credit," Woozi said determined to prove every hater wrong.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear BBC ,

Learn how to interpret and not twist the words and accuse real hardworking artists of using AI. You are journalists, it's your job to report the truth and not throw around false accusations. Woozi from Seventeen had worked hard for years to reach where he is today and you guys discrediting him and writing a stupid article where you have deliberately twisted his words to defame him is ridiculous and downright evil.

This is what most artists are afraid of , their creativity and talent not being recognized. You did the exact same today by defaming and discrediting an artist. He has written 157 songs and not one song has been written by using AI. Hope this clears it up. Thank you .

[wings-of-ink]

Hear ye, hear ye!

All of you who have been anxiously awaiting Chapter 4 can send a big thank you to the Microsoft mayhem that happened on Friday. Because of it, I have had two entire, unprecedented, days off of work during which all I did was write and edit chapter 4! Stuff like this never happens to me either, so I ate it up. My work computer is still super broken too, so who knows what will happen tomorrow, lol.

So, chapter 4, barring anything disastrous that I do not yet foresee – is coming very soon. Like, any day this week soon. For now, I am looking for bugs and other errors until I feel comfortable getting the update loaded. I will also be updating the warning list and some things on the itch page. I keep feeling like I'm forgetting something I wanted to do, and am having a hell of a time remembering what it was…

Anyway, if it interests you, more details below!

In going through some of the Google Error Reports, I had a couple that I either could not resolve or find.

It was reported that checking player stats in chapter 1 would not work – that it would flash only for a moment. I could not recreate this. If anyone else has seen this, please let me know.

In the end of chapter 2 where there are multiple ways to spend your time there seems to be some issues with how choices become unselectable after certain clicks and it just doesn't seem to function correctly. I have fixed the issues I have found, but could not recreate all of the instances that were reported. This section may get an overhaul in the future since I understand the coding a bit more now.

It was also reported that fonts are not changing. There is definitely a weird issue with this and it will take some time for me to sit down and hammer out. The fonts do change for me, but notably, I don't think they are switching to the correct font types. They don't even appear to be the same fonts from when I first starting this project, lol. This issue is on hold for now.

The last 2 bonus segments for the end of chapter 3 are being pushed aside for the time being. I kept finding myself feeling like I was hammering them into the chapter and it was a little exhausting. If I force it, it will be less enjoyable to read. The segments that are missing are the ones for hanging out with Zahn and Nathanael. Zahn's is easy to wiggle in elsewhere at least, but I'm not sure if Nathan's will make it in or not. We'll see, my motivation was purely for chapter 4, so now that it is ready to go, I'll have another crack at it before I drop or move them completely. They aren't super important to the story, but are just for fun (and if Oswin got his, it's only fair that Zahn gets theirs too). That last section of chapter 3 ended up way too long, so it may get adjusted later anyway.

As with any work in progress, I can't guarantee that your old saves will work. That's probably how we are going to have to roll for a bit until I really get things nice and smooth. Eventually, I will add an option to start from a later chapter and go through and make the (MANY) relevant choices to skip ahead. This may be implemented when Chapter 6 is ready to go since all the ROs will be available.

I also want to figure out how to implement named saves to make it easier for you to sort. I appreciate IFs that feature this, but I do not yet know how to do it, but I'm going to research. I like to play through with several MCs, and I'd like to offer enough info in the saves and/or Stats Menu that you can do this and easily know who you are playing as. Let me know what you would like most in the Player Stats Menu too. Note, that some options do not appear here until you choose them in the story.

Coming up…

Since Chapter 4 is down, I will soon be posting a big poll about future IFs. I've been compiling info for it here and there for a couple weeks on possible options for me to write in conjunction with God-Cursed. So, stay tuned for that in the coming days.

I will FINALLY get to my inbox in earnest as well! I will keep reaction asks paused until further notice since they take me the longest to answer. Feel free to still send in comments or quicker questions. If your question is too spoilery to answer, I will not be able to post about it.

Anyway, hope you are all doing well! I can't wait to see what you think of chapter 4. I hope you enjoy it. I'll get it out just as soon as I feel comfortable enough with it. ^_^

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Idea:

hero broke their arm, and is now trapped in their bathroom trying to bathe (only lit by candles because light went out) when Villian (their roommate) comes looking for them and then help them in bathing and wearing clothes afterwards

Just some hurt comfort please.. No teasing, just them basking in each other's comfort

"You know you can ask me whenever you need my help, right?" The villain helped them into the bathtub, one hand on the hero's waist and the other holding their hand. They had never thought the hero would be their roommate. But the city was big and apartments were expensive.

The villain couldn't move and the hero couldn't either. And somewhere along the way, the hero - despite their hatred - had decided not to report them to the police. Maybe it was pity, maybe compassion. The villain wasn't sure yet.

"So you can break more of my bones?" the hero asked quietly.

"I didn't break your arm," the villain said. They let go of the hero and sat down next to the bathtub, eyes glued to the ground. It was difficult, the villain had to admit. The hero was a horrible roommate, trying to make the villain's life as miserable as possible. Never cleaning up, bringing over random people, listening to loud music, ignoring them all the time.

Of course, the villain didn't blame them. They were enemies. But they didn't want this.

"You have broken much more than just my bones." The villain closed their eyes. Did the hero not know that this was the exact reason why the villain couldn't sleep? Why they had developed several questionable methods of distraction?

God, the villain knew they were no saint. They worked with dangerous people, built dangerous stuff. They could barely live with themselves.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just really need the money," they whispered. Shame had become a companion. The villain wasn't quite sure if they could ever get used to it. "I don't mean to be...violent."

"That doesn't give you the right to bite," the hero answered and the villain was quiet for a long time. The hero didn't look at them. Their eyes stared into the water, the broken arm - still blue and green - put onto the edge of the bathtub and their legs pulled against their chest. They could've put their chin on their knees but the hero hadn't done that.

Their body was decorated with scars, each an individual and unwanted present for the hero. Usually, the villain covered their own scars and they knew the hero did that, too. So, it was the first time the villain saw them like this. And for the first time, they didn't see scars as something disgusting. They wanted to stretch out their arm and trace the large scar on the hero's back. But they didn't do that.

"I know. I'm scared...I'm sorry." Slowly, the hero's gaze softened and they looked at their nemesis, somewhat pitiful.

"Why are you kind to me?" the hero asked. "Why aren't you trying to murder me here?"

"I really do it just for the money and you pay half the rent." It was an attempted joke and to the villain's surprise, their enemy smiled.

"We both know you're not kind out of convenience. I haven't seen you out there in months but I have seen the bloody bathroom or the open window at night. You're still out there, you're still fighting. But you're avoiding me," the hero said.

"Well, it is strange to break your bones now. I got to know you. I know your coffee order, I know your favourite food. I know your favourite movies and your favourite books. I know when you go to bed or when you wake up."

"Still, I wasn't kind to you," the hero said. Their cheeks were glowing, maybe out of embarrassment, maybe because the bath was hot.

"I can't blame you. I get attached to people too easily." It was the truth. Every time, the villain fell in love with their best friends. They couldn't help it. Being around someone their age was like a curse. Whether that person was good to them or not, the villain fell for them eventually within weeks. They loved like a dog. But the hero did not need to know that. "I don't want you to hate me."

"I'm sorry," the hero said. "When I was being rude, I didn't see the person, I just saw my enemy. Maybe I am the one who has to learn not to bite."

They reached for the villain's shoulder.

"Maybe some peace will be good," the hero said gently. "Maybe we could become friends."

The villain was doomed. They would lose this relationship too.

[talesofesther]

constellations

Samantha Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You give Sam a bit of calmness amidst the storm.

Requested by anon

A/N: Sam deserves the world and I'd happily give it to her.

Masterlist

Prime suspect Samantha Carpenter.

That was the headline displayed on the TV as the reporter blamed Sam for the recent Ghostface attacks.

Lies. They were all lies, and because of those bullshit rumors. It made your blood boil. You know it was the same feeling for the rest of your friends; the living room was quiet as the reporter's voice echoed through. There was an instant heaviness to the air.

Sam picked up the remote and pressed the 'mute' button, before hurrying off to her bedroom.

No one seemed to know quite what to do. The silence was deafening and you felt the eyes of everyone slowly settling on you.

As much as you two might try to keep it on the low, it was no secret anymore that you and Sam had become rather close these past months. Labels were a bit of a stretch, none of you quite ready for it yet. Still, whenever Sam walked back into the dorm she hoped to find you there; she always chose the chair next to yours on the table; and sometimes you'd catch her staring at you, but then again, she also always caught you staring back.

You felt your cheeks burning, maybe the secret was never a secret after all. "I got it," you mumbled under your breath before following the path Sam set.

The door to her room was left ajar, almost as if wanting you to come after her. You held onto your breath when you slowly pushed it open further.

Sam had her back to you, she was looking out her window at the night sky. The cold wind from outside caught onto the wet tracks down her cheeks.

You closed the door behind you and walked up to her. You knew she knew it was you; because she didn't turn around, she didn't talk, she didn't move a muscle. Not until one of your hands touched her waist, nimble fingers barely grazing the fabric of her shirt were enough to send a shiver up and down her body and get her shoulders tensing slightly.

Part of you lived only for these moments. You brought both hands around Sam's waist, hugging her closer and pressing her back to your chest; she was always so warm, each curve of her body fitting with yours as if you were part of the same constellation, bound to always be linked; you felt how Sam found your hand with hers, messily intertwining your fingers at the same time your lips met the skin on her shoulder. Just you and her.

No words were needed for a few moments. You were content to exist in each other's presence.

Eventually, Sam turned around in your embrace, her eyes were downcast; as if shame tugged at her heartstrings for things she didn't do.

You tried to find her eyes and brought a hand up to rest against her cheek. The pad of your thumb found a teardrop there, and one more soon followed the same path. You brushed them away with all the tenderness you knew she deserved.

"None of it is true," you breathed, "we all know it."

With the ghost of a movement, Sam leaned forward. The plea was barely there but you've been getting good at reading her. You met her halfway for a chaste kiss, your lips soft against her slightly chapped ones.

She pulled away with a gulp, her tongue running over her bottom lip to try and capture the feeling of you. "Still, it sucks being this hated."

You'd never heard her voice quite this broken, this vulnerable. Her dark eyes were shining with the cheap light of her bedroom, a little red-rimmed yet still the most gentle you've ever seen.

How anyone could ever see her as a bad person was beyond you.

Her hair was silky between your fingers when you pushed it behind her ear. "Lay down with me?"

There was an adorable furrow to Sam's eyebrows and you wanted to trap this moment like a spider in a glass.

"We'll figure out the details later." You promised.

It was all that was needed, maybe all she'd been wanting all along, because Sam melted in your hold; her body mostly laying on top of yours as you snuggled in her bed. Her arms came around your waist in a hold so strong that almost constricted your breathing. But you didn't comment on it.

Sam's cheek was resting just above your heart, and the steady beating was sure to lull her to sleep in no time.

Your fingers buried themselves between her hair as you'd occasionally press a kiss to her forehead.

It was the calmness amidst the storm and there were three words stuck in Sam's throat. Because there you were, tangled up in all her broken pieces, and all you wanted to do was stay.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Sam’s taglist: @milkiane @v1ci0us

[confusedemiposts]

hi! could you write something with a reader that's working at ada and they are always cheerful and happy and get along with dazai well, but one time they get sent to a mission (i just started the anime so i dont really know how things go, sorry!) and get badly injured so they are not as cheerful as before and dazai and others help them get better? it's my first time sending a request so sorry if I didn't explain well! feel free to change it up a bit! feel free to ignore this! take care!

ᰔᩚ Get well soon!

Summery: You've been healed up by Yosano but you still feel troubled from your recent assignment and the ada members are here to comfort you

Contains: Dazai, Ranpo, Kunikida, Atsushi, Yosano X Reader

Tags: platonic but can be seen as romantic, reader has an ability but not specified, fluff, not proofread, grammar mistakes, oc probaly

Format: short Headcannons

Notes: I feel that some are too short than others and probaly out of character, I'm not good at writing words of comfort so yeah

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Dazai

You come back from Yosano's clinic all healed up and fresh

No evidence of the broken bones and cuts you had gained from your first ever dangerous assignment

You may have been patched up physically but emotionally you were still wrecked

Just staring quietly at your empty report as the scene of the fight kept replying in your head over and over again

You kept wondering "why didn't I use my ability properly?"

You were too busy to notice someone staring right at you

Dazai would instantly notice the change in your behavior

how you've become more quiet

not a single word coming out of your mouth as you looked lost in thought

he'd try to comfort you to the best of his abilities but comforting others isn't his forte

He would try to comfort you in a rather silly way

Telling you a silly joke or pulling an innocent prank involving flowers or something that you like

Doing some overly dramatic scheme just to see you smile :(

He doesn't know how to bring comfort in any other way

He would let you talk out your feelings but if you're expecting some comforting words, you will not get any

Because he doesn't know how to

But you will get a hug in the comfortable silence

Ranpo

Obviously he would know you we're clearly bothered by your recent assignment

Coming back with a practically broken body and nearly failing the case that could've cause devastation to others had turned you extremely quiet

He's more actions than words

Will share only a little bit of his sweets

he'll share as much as you want

he'll tell you that you did a good job and that you're still one of the best out there

nothing was your fault

expect the best hugs and him staying by your side as long as you need

Kunikida

When you return from your case and are properly healed there will be a scolding

but in a comforting way?

it comes from a place of heart

He understands this pain

would like to address your feelings

unlike Ranpo its words rather than actions

"one moment of weakness dosent define you. Mistakes will happen"

"We all stumble and fall down from time to time but it is these stumbles and falls which make us who we are"

"its not the end of the world"

trust him

he would know

Yosano

the one who brought you back from nearly being dead

You're feeling woozy on the bed of the clinic after

Physically you were fine but you still felt disturbed

Staring at the white ceiling of the room as replays of the same moment stay in your head

Yosano was in the room, hearing how silent the room instead of the usual chatter she would know that you were troubled

she would be the one to break the silence

Words of comfort and good advice

takes you out to go get your favorite food together

Atsushi

He is extremely worried about you

Checking up on you to see how you're doing

Seeing how upset you are makes him worry

“Hey, hey.. It’s okay… You didn’t know what was going to happen and it was your first case… Please don’t blame yourself..”

The best person who brings comfort

I don't know how to write that

He'd try to cheer you up any way he can

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃