#and not apologizing unless he ACTUALLY did something he's sorry for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kashverse · 4 months ago

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𝒴our first encounter with the 呪術廻戦 men

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise (use of "pretty" in choso's version), strangers to lovers, fluff, featuring ♡ canon! gojo, canon! geto, single dad! toji, modern au! choso, canon! sukuna in a modern au, corporate! nanami ✿ ⪩⪨ tried a new formatting style..! ib my dear @norikuna (∩˃o˂∩)♡

gojo doesn’t see you coming. not because he’s oblivious—though, sure, that’s part of it—but because he’s too busy making himself miserable, listening to some poor bastard on the phone cry about their ex. it’s barely noon, the sun’s out, people are living their lives, and this guy’s talking about how he let “the one” slip through his fingers. “bro, just get another one,” gojo had said, dead-eyed, waiting for the crosswalk light to change. the response was more crying. he sighed, hanging up.

and then he smacked straight into you.

not a polite bump, not even a nudge—full-on body collision, your forehead meeting his chin with a sharp crack. the impact was enough to send you both stumbling, but while gojo’s built like a brick wall, you had all the misfortune of being knocked back a few steps. “ow—what the fuck?!” your voice came first, and then, through the dizzying pain, you saw him. tall, white-haired, stupidly good-looking in an insufferable way, dressed like he was on some model’s off-day. sunglasses slid down the bridge of his nose, and even through the slight daze, you could see the sharp glint of his blue eyes peering down at you.

“ah, my bad—”

“your bad?” your voice rose, disbelieving. the pain hadn’t even settled yet, but your temper had. “you nearly took my head off!”

gojo blinked. “well, technically, if i took your head off, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” he pointed out. “unless you’re a talking head, which would be—"

“are you serious?” you cut him off, hands flying up in exasperation. “you’re just standing in the middle of the damn sidewalk—”

“crosswalk,” he corrected.

“—like a fucking lamppost,” you barreled on, ignoring him. “and then you hit me. no, actually, you collided with me like a fucking train, and now you’re just standing there?”

you looked ready to kill him. gojo thought you looked radiant. people don’t really yell at him. they get nervous, flustered, awkward. maybe they complain a little, but they don’t yell. not like this—not with this kind of raw, unfiltered rage that was directed solely at him.

and he was loving it.

“ohhh, you’re mad mad,” he said, grinning.

“no shit?” you spat, rubbing your forehead. “you’re huge! why do you walk like you don’t know how to control your own size?”

“i’m huge? that’s a compliment,” he mused. “also, you ran into me.”

“i did not—"

“you did, but it’s okay,” he waved off. “i forgive you.”

your mouth dropped open. your jaw clenched so hard you swore you heard it click. “i don’t need your forgiveness,” you snapped. “i need you to watch where the hell you’re going!” gojo just smiled. “i can do that,” he said. “but only if you tell me your name first.”

you squinted at him. “why?”

“so i know what to say in my apology,” he said smoothly. “y’know, something heartfelt, real personal. ‘i’m so sorry, dear stranger, for running into you with my big, strong, muscular body—’”

your scowl deepened. “forget it,” you turned to leave, shaking your head.

gojo grabbed your wrist. lightly, like he was afraid you’d shake him off (which you probably would). “wait,” he said, less teasing this time, more curious.

you stopped, staring at him warily. “what?”

he grinned. “you’re fun.”

you yanked your arm out of his grip. “you’re annoying.”

but you weren’t yelling anymore. and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.

toji doesn't believe in love—at least, not in the way people like to romanticize it. to him, love has always been transactional. people want things: security, pleasure, a warm body to cling to at night. he provides, they take. simple.

commitment? fuck no. he’s been there, done that, and all it got him was a headache and a kid who looks at him like he’s a walking disappointment. not that he blames megumi—he knows exactly the kind of man he is. relationships, from what he's seen, are just another job. another obligation. more shit to deal with when he's already stretched thin making sure megumi doesn't starve or turn into a little menace. and he's already got enough on his plate.

raising megumi is work. the kid is sharp, stubborn, and way too perceptive for his own good. keeping up with him is exhausting. fulfilling someone else’s expectations on top of that? hell no.

people ask if he’s lonely. he laughs. lonely? he’s got freedom. no nagging, no obligations, no answering to anyone but himself and, on the worst days, a grumpy eight-year-old who somehow thinks he’s smarter than him. love, in his experience, is just a distraction. and toji fushiguro doesn’t do distractions.

and toji swears he only looked away for a second.

he was just checking the damn price tag on some overpriced brand of instant noodles, and when he looked back, megumi was gone. poof. like a magic trick, except it wasn’t a trick, and the rising panic in his chest was very, very real. “shit,” he muttered, scanning the aisles. nothing. just a bunch of old ladies and college kids looking for cheap meals. no messy black hair, no tiny scowl. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep calm. he didn’t want to make a scene. people lost their kids all the time, right? it wasn’t a big deal. he just had to—

and then he saw him.

megumi was at the end of the next aisle, small hands clenched at his sides, his mouth pressed in a thin, stubborn line, like he wasn’t scared, even though he definitely was. and right next to him, crouched down to his level, was you. “you’re really good at this,” you said. megumi blinked up at you. “huh?”

“the whole ‘not panicking’ thing,” you smiled at him. “most kids freak out when they lose their parents. you’re staying calm. that’s cool.” megumi looked away, like he wasn’t sure if that was actually a compliment or not. “i don’t wanna cause trouble,” he muttered.

“aw, but that’s what parents are for,” you teased. “causing them trouble.” megumi almost smiled. almost. toji, still frozen in place, narrowed his eyes. who the hell were you?

“c’mon, let’s go find your dad,” you said, standing up and holding out a hand. megumi didn’t take it, but he followed you anyway, his short legs working hard to keep up with your pace. and toji? well. he wasn’t sure why, but instead of stepping forward, he let you find him.

he let you do the whole thing, watching as you walked with megumi, asking him questions—where he last saw his dad, what his name was, what he looked like.

“he’s really tall,” megumi said. you hummed. “tall, huh? that helps.”

“and he’s got a scar on his mouth,” he added.

“even better. anyone who looks scary is easier to spot.”

megumi frowned a little. “he’s not scary.” you smiled, ruffling his hair. “i bet he isn’t.”

toji snorted under his breath.

by the time you turned the corner and finally spotted him, megumi exhaled in relief. toji pretended not to notice how fast he ran up to him, grabbing the fabric of his shirt like he wasn’t just saying how calm he was. you, on the other hand, stopped a few steps away, hands on your hips. “you must be the scary, not-scary dad,” you said.

toji raised an eyebrow. “and you’re just a random saint, huh?” you shrugged. “not a saint. just someone who doesn’t like seeing kids upset.”

he looked at you, really looked at you. you didn’t seem put out by any of this, like helping some stranger’s kid wasn’t an inconvenience, but just another part of your day. like it was normal. toji let out a breath, then tilted his head down at megumi. “you good, kid?”

megumi nodded, though he still wasn’t letting go of toji’s shirt. toji sighed, glancing back at you. “guess i owe you, huh?”

you waved him off. “don’t worry about it. just keep an eye on him next time.”

toji huffed a laugh. “easier said than done.”

you grinned, giving megumi one last look before turning to leave. and toji? well. maybe being responsible for two people wouldn’t be so bad after all.

nanami never thought much about being single. it wasn’t a matter of pride or principle—just reality. his job was time-consuming, his patience was thin, and the thought of entertaining someone else’s needs after a long workday felt exhausting. he wasn’t lonely, just… fine. indifferent.

until he got sick of his office food.

“this is inedible,” he said flatly, staring at the sad excuse of a meal on his plate. his colleague, barely looking up from his own tray, mumbled, “it’s fine.”

nanami’s eye twitched. it was not fine. rubbery chicken, dry rice, and a soup that tasted more like dishwater than anything edible. this was not a meal—it was a punishment.

so, he made a change.

he found a small business that delivered homemade meals, something personal but convenient. it promised variety, quality ingredients, and, most importantly, flavor.

what he didn’t expect were the notes.

the first one came tucked under the neatly packed meal.

“hope today isn’t too exhausting! eat well!”

nanami stared at it for longer than he should have. then, at the food—real food. properly cooked, properly seasoned, steaming with warmth that no canteen meal could ever replicate. he didn’t think about it much. a kind gesture, that was all. but the notes kept coming.

“long meetings? i packed extra today.”

“rainy day! hope this brings some warmth.”

“rough week? your food will always be good at least.”

and then—

“your order is always so precise. you must be someone who likes routine.”

nanami paused mid-bite. he did like routine. he thrived on it. and yet, this—this unexpected kindness, these little messages—was beginning to throw him off in a way he couldn’t explain. weeks passed, meals came, and nanami found himself looking forward to them—not just for the food, but for the words that came with it. one afternoon, after another insufferable meeting, he opened his meal to find:

“do you ever take breaks? hope you’re not working too hard.”

he let out a breath, something between a sigh and a laugh. he was working too hard. but how did you—someone he’d never met—seem to know that better than the people around him? finally, curiosity got the better of him. he grabbed a pen and, for the first time, wrote back.

“who are you?”

the next day, his meal came with a note, just like always.

“just someone who wants you to eat well. but i wouldn’t mind knowing who you are too.”

and for the first time in a long time, nanami thought—maybe being single wasn’t so fine after all.

geto doesn’t believe in love. not in the way people romanticize it, anyway. he’s known desire—used it, wielded it like a tool, a means to an end. a well-timed smile, a hand grazing a wrist, a whispered promise—all of it was just another step in expanding his cause. people were easy to sway when you made them feel special. and being single? it wasn’t something he mourned. it was efficient. no attachments, no complications, no wasted energy. everything he did, every conversation, every encounter—it all served a purpose.

until you.

“you’ve been talking for a while,” you said, tilting your head at him. geto smiled. “am i boring you?”

“not at all. just wondering if you’re going to get to the point.”

he chuckled, swirling his drink. clever. impatient. interesting.

“what do you think my point is?”

you leaned back, thoughtful. “well, you’re charming, you have that practiced ease of someone who’s very used to getting what they want, and yet…” you narrowed your eyes. “you haven’t tried to get anything from me yet.”

his smile twitched. perceptive too. “maybe i’m just enjoying the conversation.”

“hmm.” you didn’t look convinced. “i doubt you talk to people without a reason.”

he laughed, shaking his head. “you wound me. am i not allowed to simply appreciate good company?”

you smirked. “do you?”

and that was the problem, wasn’t it? he did.

he was supposed to be recruiting you. that was why he approached you in the first place—he had assessed, observed, picked you out for your potential. another piece in his grander vision. but now? now, he was talking to you about books, about philosophy, about things that had nothing to do with his cause.

he liked your sharp tongue, your quick comebacks, the way you saw through people but humored them anyway. and he was enjoying this. more than he should.

“you’re thinking too hard,” you noted.

“am i?”

“yeah. for someone who flirts so easily, you seem oddly distracted.”

he chuckled, shaking his head. you had no idea. for the first time in a long time, geto suguru had forgotten his purpose. and strangely enough, he didn’t mind.

choso doesn’t really get love. it’s not that he doesn’t feel it—he does, deeply, messily, all-consuming in the way only someone who has lived too long without it can. it’s just that he doesn’t understand how it’s supposed to work. his friends talk about relationships like they’re puzzles, like you’re supposed to fit into someone else’s life piece by piece, no gaps, no edges sticking out. but choso? he keeps forcing the wrong pieces together. he’s had his heart broken by so many situationships, and he doesn’t even know what that word means. all he knows is that people like him enough to stay for a while, but not enough to stay forever. and when someone ghosts him? it’s over.

“why would they do that?” he asks yuuji, completely distraught. “i thought we were getting along.” yuuji winces. “yeah, but… sometimes people just disappear, man. it’s not your fault.”

“but why not just say they don’t like me?”

“because people suck.”

choso frowns. love is confusing. people are confusing. nothing makes sense.

until he meets you.

more specifically, until you send a pug flying in his direction. one second, he’s minding his own business, sipping a coffee, staring blankly at nothing. the next—

“watch out!”

and then—THUD.

a very round, very squishy pug collides with his chest, knocking the air out of him. he blinks. looks down. the pug is fine. choso, however, is shaken.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry,” you pant, running up to him, looking horrified. “he’s got the speed of a missile and the weight distribution of a sack of potatoes. are you okay?”

choso is still holding the pug. he has not processed a single thing except that you’re talking to him, and you’re really pretty. you snap your fingers in front of his face.

“hello? earth to guy who just got body slammed by my dog?”

he swallows. “i—i’m okay.”

you sigh in relief. “good. i don’t think my insurance covers ‘pug-related assaults.’”

he stares. then—

he laughs.

it’s an awkward, slightly delayed laugh, but it’s real. it bubbles out of him, because suddenly, everything is just… simple. you’re still talking, apologizing, trying to pry your dog from his grip, and he realizes—love doesn’t have to be this big, complicated thing. it can be a stranger, a runaway pug, and a stupidly perfect moment where he thinks, 'oh. this is it.'

sukuna has never cared for love. love is mortal, fleeting, an indulgence for the weak. he has lived for centuries without it, conquered, destroyed, thrived—all on his own. why bother with attachment? why waste time on something that promises nothing but vulnerability? he’s always been perfectly fine like this.

until the night he meets you at the bar.

he doesn’t even mean to notice you at first—just another human in a crowded room, laughing, talking, lighting up the space with an ease he’s never possessed.

and then he hears you speak. your voice is smooth, effortless, like you’re meant to be heard. every sentence flows into the next, words never fumbling, never uncertain. you make people laugh, pull them in, keep them hanging on to every syllable. sukuna watches, listens, enthralled, before someone leans in and calls you by name—your full name. followed by—

“aren’t you that talk show host?”

and it clicks. you are. he’s seen your face before, flickering on a television screen, a passing glimpse at a life so far removed from his own.

and now he’s irritated. because you talk so easily with everyone but him. and that won’t do.

so he tries. for the first time in centuries, he tries to talk to someone—like a normal person, like it’s something he’s done before, like it’s as easy as you make it look.

but it’s not. it’s a disaster.

he waits until the crowd around you has thinned, takes the seat next to you, and—

“so.” he clears his throat. “you talk to people for a living.”

you turn, blinking, mildly amused. “i do.”

he nods, confident. good start. then nothing. his mind goes blank. shit.

you raise a brow, waiting. sukuna glares at his drink like it’s betrayed him. “how do you do it?”

you tilt your head. “do what?” he gestures vaguely. “talk. keep people engaged.”

you blink. “are you asking me how to hold a conversation?”

his jaw tenses. “no.”

you laugh. he scowls.

he tries again. “what makes a good interview?”

“oh, that’s easy,” you hum. “you have to be genuinely interested in the other person.”

he deadpans.

you smirk. “which means you have to actually listen to what they’re saying.”

“i listen,” he grumbles.

“really?” you lean in. “then what were we just talking about?”

silence. your smirk widens. “you weren’t listening.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face. this is hell.

but he keeps trying. keeps failing, keeps making an idiot of himself, keeps suffering through every one of your knowing smiles—because for the first time in his miserable, ancient existence, he actually wants to learn.

he wants to talk to you.

and maybe, just maybe, he wants you to talk to him, too.

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veloriium · 2 years ago

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its so nerve-wracking when u cant get ur anger out in the only way you know how bc now wtf am i gonna do? face my emotions? fuck

#cant vent art my way out of this one ladies #i havent done actual vent art in like years to be fair unless u count like just drawing ur favorite characters normally as vent art but i w #would consider that more as coping #but anyways ive resorted to just writing about it in a writing app i downloaded thats my only option and its driving me insane #i need to go to a rage room #(actual venting from here on sorry) (thank god for movable tags) (warning for potential assault i think)#i need something to numb this bc uhhhh LOL im losing it #losing it over smthing that happened 3 months ago on April First #spent the morning at a guy friends house #went in with gaming controllers and comics thinking we'd just be relaxing #came out questioning my life and what just happened LMFAO #i laugh but its been destroying me for 3 months now #right afterwards i went to a bowling alley birthday with my friends though <3 #i just still feel so disgusting even though it was months ago and hes since apologized for it #it was so strange that day and for a few days after #i could still smell him on me and taste him #sometimes even now i can still smell him on me #i did a few weeks ago and it was so weird and i felt like i wanted to throw up #idk #its just a weird situation because some days i wont care and other days ill be crying over it and question why i let it happen #and other days ill be so pissed off about it like i can believe i let this happen after swearing to myself i wouldnt let it #fucking shaking in anger like holy fuck #its such a weird feeling #anyways #stay silly ^_^#- lorii rambles

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hot-patootiee · 1 month ago

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Part 2 of this. And can you tell I had issues with my ex? Like holy shit I’m having flashbacks writing this.

Nancy stands up and walks over to Eddie though, and gently pushes him towards the door.

“Go fix it.” She demands.

Eddie makes a confused sound as he is gently pushed out of the house, having to push open the door or be squished into it.

…

When Steve’s doorbell rings again, he’s getting a little annoyed.

He swings open the door and Eddie is there.

Steve begins to close the door.

Unfortunately he is forced to deal with his feelings, so Eddie puts a hand on the door and pushes it open.

“Did you think we were dating?” Eddie seems almost accusatory in his tone, which immediately annoyed Steve.

“What do you mean by ‘think’ Eddie? I asked you out, you said yes.” Steve was still trying to shut the door in Eddie’s face, but he looked more angry than sad. “Unless this is some sort of strange apology and declaration of love, I don’t wanna hear it.”

“It is! It is! Just don’t close the door.” Steve furrows his brows and lets the door swing open.

Eddie stumbles in, tripping over the entrance and nearly falling into Steve.

Steve stares at Eddie, waiting.

“I thought you were just experimenting and I’m so sorry for thinking your confession was a joke.” Eddie says sincerely, shifting slightly on his feet in discomfort.

“You think everything I do is a joke. Everyone does! Poor little Steve Harrington gets hit in the head too many times and now is incapable of a coherent thought.” Steve finishes with a self deprecating laugh. His eyes are shining and Eddie can see the rage festering in them, the resignation transforming into simmering anger.

Eddie opens his mouth to refute it, but is cut off instead.

“Was kissing me a joke too? Am I too stupid to know?” Steve moves into Eddie’s face, crowding him before pulling back suddenly. A strong gust reminds Eddie the door is open and anyone close enough could hear them.

“No, no of course not. Shouldn’t we close the door?” Eddie suggests.

“You’re the dumbass who didn’t close it. There is no we in that.” Steve sneers at Eddie’s implication at Steve being incompetent.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Eddie murmurs, pushing the door hard and letting it swing shut. His shoulders are hunched, as if he was trying to placate Steve by making himself smaller.

“I thought you were different, I put up with everybody else calling me stupid all the time, because most of them are children, and I thought you, my boyfriend, was different. But, apparently, you think I’m too incompetent with my own feelings that you need to make the judgement for me.”

“I thought you were joking.” Eddie repeated, Steve was honestly beginning to hear the needle on the vinyl from how many times Eddie had been repeating himself.

“And when I kissed you, was I still just joking?” Steve probed.

“No, can you just let me explain for a second?” Eddie spat his words out quickly, knowing if he went slower Steve would continue to yell at him.

“No, because you’re charging in here with some half cocked apology to try to fix something, just because someone else pointed out that you should. You need to feel better, so you came over to apologize, without considering that I’ve been wallowing in my house for days because of something you did. Actually fucking apologize because you feel bad about putting me in pain, not because you want to stop being uncomfortable with your own actions.” Steve lectured, he massaged the bridge of his nose slightly in an attempt to alleviate his own frustration.

“What do you want me to do? How do I fix this?”

“Those are questions you have to answer yourself. Maybe apologize with something that screams ‘sorry for thinking our entire relationship was a joke’. If you come here with some fucking flowers or chocolate and think that that’s adequate, I will break your fucking guitar.” The wrinkles in Steve’s brow just became deeper as he threatened Eddie. His muscles trembled slightly as he reminded himself of how angry he was.

Eddie nods, looking slightly resigned.

“Oh, and your fucking behavior should change, treat me like a goddamn person. I pulled your ass out of hell, I’ve proved myself to be capable a thousand times over. Treat me like I am.” Eddie couldn’t help but focus on how Steve’s hands shook.

Eddie nods and begins to pull away from Steve, looking sad as he slowly moves to the door.

“What are you doing?” Steve looked genuinely puzzled, prompting Eddie to stop with his hand on the doorknob.

“I’m leaving, I didn’t think you’d want me here.” Eddie shrugged, looking a lot like a kicked puppy as he whimpered. He then began to turn the doorknob to exit the Harrington house.

“What did I just say about making decisions for me?” Steve has his hip cocked and his hands resting on his waist in his signature annoyed mom look. Eddie freezes, unknowing of what to do.

“Come on, go to my room and wait, I just need to run the dishes.” Steve shoos Eddie, who quickly scampers up the stairs and slipped inside Steve’s room. He was unsure of what to do so he waited at the foot of the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

He isn’t sure how long he waits, but Steve finally pads into the room.

Steve pushes Eddie onto his back. Crawling inbetween his legs.

Eddie opens his mouth to express his confusion, but is interrupted by a firm “scooch” which spurs Eddie into backing up into the headboard. Steve follows quickly behind.

Steve tucks himself into Eddie’s collarbone. He settles easily, even though Eddie is still incredibly tense.

“Tell me the other thing you came here to say.” Steve demands.

“Oh darling I like you so much. I’ll stay with you forever, I’m so sorry for leaving.” Eddie rambles, like the floodgates holding him back had been released.

“Again?” Steve said quietly, barely louder than his breath.

“I like you a lot, Steve. I got the biggest crush on you. Never thought you’d ever like someone like me. I don’t deserve you.” Eddie ends with a damn near whimper, but Steve’s resolve didn’t change in the face of Eddie’s words.

“You’re right, you don’t. You left me and you were planning on leaving me again if I didn’t accept your apology. It’s been days and all I want is to be with my boyfriend.” Steve’s voice slowly tampered down to a whisper as he spoke.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Eddie murmured shamefully.

“Yea, no shit.” Steve snapped.

“I’m sorry.”

“Your formal apology better be fucking amazing.” Steve countered playfully.

“I’ll do my best.” Eddie pauses for a second. “What if it’s not good enough?”

“Then I break up with you.” Eddie deflates slightly. Steve continues though. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t value me or respect me, I’ve made that mistake before.”

Eddie felt his stomach sink, but began to brainstorm on how to make it up to Steve.

Btw El and Will are making Brownies for Steve rn.

PART 3 IS HERE

Omg I’m such an ass, pt 3 coming soon if I’m harassed enough to do it.

Also, psa if you fuck up big, you need to actually show you’re sorry. Don’t apologize to make yourself feel better, apologize to make the other person feel better. Make an actual effort to not repeat your past actions. If someone doesn’t accept your apology, remember you aren’t entitled to their forgiveness. No matter how much society tries to act like you deserve it for simply apologizing.

Also if it isn’t evident, I was forced to accept a lot of apologies when I didn’t want to.

@stripey82 @genderfluidbitch @mensch-anthropos-human @c4tharsys @scoops-aboy86 @breealtair @raleighrox @wannabe-edgy-grandpa @flustratedcas @shoujo-wizard @polysdoitforscience @exasperatedsighohmy @piemaker93 @tinyplanet95 @skepticalqueen @sharingisntkaren @scarletyeager @crypticcrytid @midnightskeeper @wheneverfeasible @ancientwormcivilization @fucjinf-whatever-dude @estrellami-1 @queenofshenanigans @grilledcheesehasfeelings <- get out of my walls

@ellietheasexylibrarian @live-laugh-love-dietrich @turinspeachjam @me-ig7 @revevivant @motherofpirates @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @samsoble @legalmenace87 @thehanwen @bigspongey @thedragonsaunt @newagemyth @pentapoctopus @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @bumbledoubletea @blackbirdflyflyfly @what-if-a-dragon @reddiandbyler4life @i-think-i-thunk @gregre369 @fiddledeedee85 @ladykailitha

Rest of the mentions will be in the comments because fuck there is a lot of you.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #fanfic #nancy wheeler

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cheftsunoda · 10 days ago

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hi okay so i know you just did a poly and i absolutely ADORED it, so i wanted to put in a little request! could you do a poly where reader was with a driver (say lando for reference) but he cheated on her, so she writes a song about him cheating. however, carlos and rebecca swoop in and take her for themselves, which leads reader to write an album about them? i LOVE your works and i love your poly works even more!

it’s ok im ok — cs55 + rebecca

smau/blurbs

carlos sainz x !singer reader x rebecca donaldson

lando norris x !ex singer reader

yn has been nothing but loyal and loving to lando over the last year and a half…and what did that get her? a broken heart…but it also may have given her a boyfriend AND a girlfriend.

fc : tate mcrae

(a/n) : love this ideaaaaa <3 thank you for all the love cutie pie.

guys i had the cs55 in red up until the minute i was about to post this. im still not over it.

also i apologize bc this took me so unnecessarily long to finish. promise i will have something else posted by tonight or early tomorowwww

—

f1gossipgirls

2,278,009 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Lando… babe, did you forget you have a girlfriend? And not just any girlfriend—a very hot, internationally famous one at that. Word on the street is Lando’s been cozying up to Magui these past few days while YN’s away on tour. And yep, someone caught them kissing in the club. Oof. Sending hugs to YN—she deserves so much better.

—

view 575,090 other comments.

username00 : not LANDO cheating on a GRAMMY NOMINATED BADDIE while she’s working 😭 men are actually unserious.

username0 : this is def on brand for magui

username1 : you fumble a woman like yn and you fumble your whole life, congrats lando 🎉

username5 : she was literally on stage pouring her heart out while he was in the club. disgusting.

username7 : her last show was tonight and he was supposed to be there with carlos im sick.

↳ username00 : carlos will def still be there. he LOVES yn and will especially be there to support her now.

username10 : cheating on a superstar like yn is so insane to me. i would’ve just stayed grateful and quiet 😭

username11 : you don’t cheat on a woman the world is in love with. he’s done.

username15 : can someone check on yn pls she deserves love, peace, and no crusty men.

—

The stage lights are warm against my skin as I run through the final chorus, my voice echoing across the empty arena. Soundcheck usually feels like a safe space—a quiet rehearsal before the chaos of the crowd. But today, something feels…off. My phone has been vibrating nonstop. At first, I ignore it—everyone knows not to blow up my phone during rehearsals unless it’s urgent. Then the vibrations keep coming. And coming.

I lower my mic slowly and turn toward the side of the stage. My phone is facedown on a case, but even from here, I can see the screen light flashing again and again. Missed calls. Messages. Alerts. The energy in the room shifts.

“Hold for a second?” I say, already walking toward it.

I flip my phone over. The first thing I see is Lando’s name trending. Then the texts hit me all at once.

“Please call me ASAP.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

“Have you seen the video???”

My chest tightens. I don’t want to click it. I already know. Deep down, I know. Still, I tap the notification. It opens to a video. Blurry, loud, too dark—but unmistakable. Lando. Magui. A club in Monaco. His hands on her waist. Her arms around his neck. His lips on hers. I don’t even realize I’ve stopped breathing.

“YN?” a voice calls gently.

I turn just as—my best friend, my dancer, my anchor—crosses the stage. Her face changes the second she sees mine.

“Come here,” she says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and steering me offstage without asking a single question.

We sit on a low equipment case behind the curtain. The buzzing in my phone hasn’t stopped. Neither has the buzz in my head.

“He cheated on me,” I whisper. “In a club. While I was here. Rehearsing. Writing songs about him.”

She doesn’t flinch. Her grip on my hand tightens. “I saw the video,” she says quietly. “I didn’t want you to see it like this.”

I laugh, bitter and cracked. “How else was I supposed to see it? On Twitter? A news alert? A pap asking me about it??”

My voice shakes. My throat aches. I feel humiliated. Blindsided. Like the whole world saw the betrayal before I even knew it happened.

“I gave him everything,” I murmur. “I loved him. I trusted him.”

“I know,” She says softly. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”

My eyes blur with tears I hadn’t realized were building. I feel like I’m underwater, like this moment isn’t fully real yet.

“I feel so stupid,” I choke. “I feel…used.”

“No,” She says, pulling me into a hug. “You feel hurt. And you have every right to. But don’t you ever call yourself stupid. He didn’t cheat because of you—he cheated because he’s a coward.”

I lean into her. The backstage hum fades away, replaced by the sound of my heart breaking quietly into pieces.

She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. “You’re going to survive this. And then? You’re going to do what you always do. You’re going to write. And when the world hears what he did to you in your own words? They’re not going to pity you. They’re going to stand with you.”

I swallow hard and nod. Slowly. My voice is gone, but my hands curl into fists.

“I’m done protecting people who don’t protect me,” I whisper.

Jess smiles, proud and fierce. “There she is.”

—

The dressing room is filled with soft rustling and whispers. The scent of setting spray lingers in the air. I sit at the vanity, staring into the mirror as someone touches up the shimmer at the corner of my eyes. I look calm. Composed. But I feel like I’m floating outside myself. My phone buzzes again beside the mirror. I don’t need to look.

Lando. Again.

Missed calls. Messages. Voicemails. I’ve stopped checking.

“Don’t,” YBFN murmurs behind me, catching my eye in the mirror.

“I wasn’t going to,” I reply quietly, though my hand itches to grab the phone and throw it across the room.

Instead, I slide it farther out of reach. I shouldn’t care. But I do. Because I loved him. Because I trusted him. Because I thought the boy I stayed up writing songs about would at least have the decency to not betray me in public like that.

“YN?” someone calls gently from the hallway.

A knock follows. Hesitant.

“Hey, uh… it’s Max. Can I come in?”

I glance at her, and she gives a subtle nod. I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Yeah,” I call.

The door creaks open slowly, and Max Fewtrell steps in, holding a bouquet of pale roses wrapped in soft brown paper. He looks… unsure. Nervous in a way I’ve never seen him. Like he doesn’t quite know where to stand in the aftermath.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.”

He steps forward, then stops halfway, fidgeting with the paper in his hands. “I—look, I didn’t know. I swear to you. If I had known what he was doing—what he did—I never would’ve let it happen. I feel sick. And I know I’m probably the last person you want to see, but I couldn’t not come tonight.”

His voice cracks a little near the end, and my heart tugs painfully in my chest.

I’ve always loved Max. Not in the way I loved him, but like the way you love people who come into your life and never leave—quiet constants. He was always there. Supportive. Sweet. A buffer when Lando got overwhelmed. A safe space. I stand slowly and walk to him. He doesn’t meet my eyes at first.

“I don’t hate you,” I say gently.

He looks up, and his eyes are glossy.

“I’ve known him since we were kids,” he says. “I never thought he’d do this to you. I mean—God, you of all people.”

I take the flowers from his hands, brushing my fingers against his. “Thank you for coming.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was picking sides,” he says quietly. “I’m not. I can’t. Not when I saw how much you loved him. And not when I see what this did to you.”

My throat tightens, but I manage a smile. “You don’t have to explain, Max. You showing up says enough.”

He nods, jaw tense like he’s holding something back.

“If you need anything,” he says finally. “Someone to vent to. Someone to just sit in silence. A drink after the show. I’m here, alright? No pressure. No sides. Just… me.”

I pull him into a hug without thinking. It’s gentle. Familiar. And it makes something crack open in my chest—something quiet and sad and healing all at once.

“I’m okay,” I whisper, even if I’m not quite there yet. “But thank you for being here.”

Max hugs me tighter, just for a second, before pulling back. “You’re going to kill it tonight. Just… don’t let him ruin this moment. This is yours.”

He smiles at me once more and slips out the door just as the call for places comes through. I glance back at my phone one last time, still lighting up. I power it off. Let him sit in silence. Tonight, the only voice that matters is mine.

—

The lights dim. The crowd erupts. The opening chords hum through my in-ears, and I step into the spotlight like I’ve done a hundred times before—but tonight feels different. Heavier. Quieter, even in the chaos. It’s the final show of the tour. It should’ve been a celebration. But instead, I’m standing on stage with a broken heart, mascara set like armor, and an entire audience holding their breath for me. I grip the mic with steady hands and let the lyrics come, one by one. A verse. A chorus. A little bit of my soul falling out in every line. I look up and something catches my glance. Carlos and Rebecca, standing in the VIP section.

Carlos is wearing all black, his arms crossed casually, but his eyes never leave mine. Rebecca’s beside him, radiant in her simplicity, with a soft expression that feels like warmth. Her hand brushes lightly against his, and when she catches my gaze, she smiles. Not a pity smile. A proud one.

I falter for half a second. Not enough for the crowd to notice—but I feel it. The way their presence roots me. Grounds me.

Carlos nods at me—just once. Like he sees everything and says, “You’ve got this.”

I sing the next line straight to him without even meaning to. The lyric cuts deeper than I expected. There’s a flash in his eyes. Something soft. Something protective.

Rebecca lifts her hand in a quiet salute as if to say, We’re here. You’re not alone. And just like that, I stop thinking about Lando. I stop thinking about the betrayal, the headlines, the ache in my chest. Because here I am—on stage, holding a crowd in the palm of my hand, singing my truth.

And in the middle of it all, two people I never expected to be looking for… are looking at me like I matter. I finish the song and let the last note linger.

The audience roars. Somewhere in the noise, I hear someone scream, “We love you, YN!”

I smile. And when I glance back at the VIP section—Carlos is still watching. Rebecca whispers something to him, and he nods, slow and certain, like a promise. My heart flutters. Maybe this isn’t the end of something. Maybe it’s the beginning.

—

The door to my dressing room clicks shut behind me as I step inside, the noise of the arena fading to a low hum. It’s quiet in here. Dimly lit. Safe. I exhale for what feels like the first time all night—half-laughter, half-collapse—as I lean against the vanity table and look at myself in the mirror. Smudged eyeliner, a faint shimmer on my collarbone, and the remnants of adrenaline still pulsing through my veins. But then I notice them. The flowers. Three bouquets, each one distinct. Each one carefully placed.

The first is elegant, precise—white orchids and pale blush roses wrapped in a ribbon that looks like it came straight from a Paris runway. A small note is tucked into the stems.

We’re so sorry we couldn’t be there tonight, mon ange. We watched the live stream from home. You were breathtaking. We love you, and if you need anything—anything at all—we’re here. Always.

— Charles & Alexandra ❤️

My throat tightens. I press the card to my chest for a second, then gently set it down. The second bouquet is wild and colorful—sunflowers, tulips, baby’s breath. Unruly in the best way. Joyful. The third is rich and moody—deep reds and golds, with eucalyptus and something that smells faintly like rosemary. Bold. Grounded. Attached to both are notes written in the same pen.

You were incredible tonight. Breathtaking and beautiful as ever. I love you.

— Becs

So proud of you, Cariño. You gave it your all and looked stunning while doing it.

— Carlitos

Before I can even finish reading them, there’s a soft knock at the door. I turn just as it opens and Rebecca steps inside first, glowing in a sleek black suit and boots. Carlos follows, a bit more hesitant, his curls still slightly messy like he ran a hand through them a dozen times before walking in.

“You were incredible,” Rebecca says, her voice low and warm. “Every single second. You tore the roof off.”

“You nearly made me cry,” Carlos adds, offering a half-smile. “Which, I don’t do. Ever. So. Thanks for that.”

I laugh, startled by the emotion that rises so quickly. “I’m really glad you both came.”

Carlos shrugs. “We weren’t going to miss it. Not tonight.”

Rebecca’s eyes flick to the flowers, then back to me. “We didn’t want to crowd you after everything, but… we thought maybe you could use a distraction. Something light. Loud music, good drinks, bad decisions.”

Carlos leans against the wall and grins. “You feel like celebrating?”

I look between them—two people who didn’t owe me anything but showed up anyway. Who didn’t pity me, didn’t push, didn’t question—just stood with me. And for the first time since everything crumbled, I feel like I can breathe.

“Yeah,” I say, nodding slowly. “I think I do.”

Rebecca beams. Carlos tosses me his jacket without warning, and it lands perfectly over my shoulders.

“Let’s go remind the world,” he says, “that you’re the star of the show.”

And for once, I believe it.

—

f1gossipgirls

3,450,305 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Well, folks… the post-breakup friend draft is officially over — and it’s looking like YN LN took the win. Max Fewtrell and his girlfriend Pietra were front and center at her sold-out Madrid show last night, joined by none other than Carlos Sainz and Rebecca Donaldson. YN, Rebecca and Carlos were later spotted celebrating at a club downtown, all smiles and tequila shots. No sign of Lando. Ouch. Looks like the grid has chosen sides… and we’re not saying anything, but this one has to sting a little. 💔

—

view 675,045 other comments.

username00 : Carlos choosing the ex over the bestie… that silence gotta be loud for real 😭

username0 : She got Max and Carlos?? oh lando honey you fucked up.

username1 : this is like when your divorced parents fight over the family dog but the dog picks your mom

username5 : me pretending i didn’t see this bc my mental health is fragile

username7 : he’s focusing on racing and y’all are obsessed with who’s hanging out with who lmao

↳ username00 : he wasn’t focused on racing while juggling two women at once.

↳ f1gossipgirls : ate.

username10 : i get supporting yn but can we stop pretending like breakups are one-sided??

↳ username0 : he legit cheated on her while she was away singing love songs she WROTE ABOUT HIM.

↳ f1gossipgirls : you tell em mama

—

It was past 2AM, and the club was pulsing with bodies and sound — music deep enough to drown in, lights flickering like camera flashes. Everything was sticky with champagne and smoke and heat. It should’ve been overwhelming.

But I was wrapped in them.

Carlos’ hand was firm and low on my waist, grounding me, his breath warm against the shell of my ear as he leaned in to say something that got lost in the music. I didn’t ask him to repeat it — didn’t need to. The way he looked at me when I laughed told me everything.

Rebecca was curled against my other side, her arm slung around my shoulder, her perfume heady and sweet — something expensive and wicked. She was glowing, flushed from dancing, eyes glassy in that beautiful way tequila makes everything soft and electric.

She pressed her lips against my cheek, slow and lingering, just as Carlos’ thumb started tracing lazy circles on my side. I tilted my head back, dizzy and melting between them, and smiled.

“Anyone watching us right now,” I murmured, voice barely audible over the bass, “is probably losing their minds.”

Carlos chuckled, pulling me a little closer, the pad of his fingers skimming over the edge of my bare back. “Let them.”

Rebecca grinned, her teeth grazing my earlobe before she whispered, “Let them talk. They’ve never had this.”

There was no rush. No expectations. Just the three of us — tipsy, warm, wrapped in each other’s gravity, dancing slowly even when the beat was fast.

Carlos kissed my shoulder. Rebecca kissed my neck. And in the middle of a wild, glittering room where everything else was chaos — we were something still. Something that felt like ours.

—

There’s something sacred about silence in the morning.

Not the kind that’s forced or awkward — the kind that’s earned. That slow, drowsy stillness that only follows a night bursting at the seams with noise and light and too many glasses of champagne. I could still feel the bass in my bones, a faint echo of the club vibrating somewhere under my skin, but it was fading, replaced by the soft rhythm of two other heartbeats tangled with mine.

Carlos was the first thing I noticed.

His arm draped heavy over my waist, the press of his chest against my back grounding me in that half-dream state. His body was always warm, always solid — like curling up with summer. His breathing was slow and steady, his lips just brushing my shoulder with each exhale. Every time I moved, even slightly, his grip adjusted like his body already knew mine too well.

Rebecca was curled against my other side, still half asleep, her thigh slung over mine, one arm tucked beneath her head, and the other linked with my fingers — lazy and possessive even in slumber. Her hair was a mess of soft waves across the pillow, catching the golden morning light like honey. I could smell her perfume on the sheets, sweet and faint now, but still hers. Still her.

And me? I was the luckiest kind of hungover.

My mouth tasted like tequila and chocolate. My makeup was probably smeared halfway across Carlos’ chest. My head was pounding just a little — a quiet throb at the base of my skull — but I didn’t care. I felt like I’d been cracked open and poured into a world that was soft and blurry and unreal.

I closed my eyes again, soaking it in.

The bed was too warm, the blankets pushed halfway down, and one of Rebecca’s heels was still tipped over by the doorway. There was a bottle of water on the nightstand. An empty champagne glass beside it. One of Carlos’ rings was sitting on top of my phone, like even he couldn’t keep track of where it ended up anymore.

“Are you awake?” Rebecca’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with sleep.

“Maybe,” I murmured.

She shifted closer, her nose brushing against the side of my jaw. “You’re staring again.”

I smiled, eyes still closed. “You’re both disgustingly attractive first thing in the morning. It’s unfair.”

Carlos groaned behind me, voice gravelly and low. “Too early for compliments. Or talking.”

“But not too early for cuddling, apparently,” I teased, wiggling back into his chest.

He made a soft sound — something between a chuckle and a sigh — and pulled me tighter against him, his hand skimming down to my hip, fingers tracing absent circles over my skin. “Always time for that.”

Rebecca shifted to press a kiss just below my ear, her lips lingering. “Do we have to get up?”

“No,” I whispered. “Not yet.”

The three of us stayed wrapped in the sheets like that, tangled and slow, like we could hide from the world if we just stayed still enough. There was no rush. No need to explain anything. Just breath and warmth and the quiet knowledge that something real had grown out of the wildness.

“I like this,” Rebecca said softly.

Carlos hummed in agreement. “Me too.”

“Even after I dragged you both through three clubs and made you take tequila shots with strangers?” I teased.

He kissed my shoulder. “Especially after that.”

Rebecca grinned against my neck. “You’re exhausting. But in the best way.”

The sunlight spilled brighter through the curtains. Outside, Monaco was probably waking up, already buzzing. But here — in this little cocoon of soft sheets and half-whispers — the world felt far away.

I turned my head slightly, catching a glimpse of both of them — Carlos with sleep still in his eyes, Rebecca brushing hair from her face, both of them looking at me like I was something good.

And I realized, for the first time in a long time… I wasn’t running from anything.

I was home.

—

third person pov

Lando stared at the gossip post like it might change if he refreshed the page.

It didn’t.

“Well, it’s clear who won the friend group after the breakup. Max Fewtrell and his girlfriend Pietra were spotted front row at YN LN’s final Madrid show last night. Carlos Sainz and Rebecca Donaldson were also in attendance — and the trio was later seen heading to a club together. No sign of Lando, of course.”

It wasn’t dramatic. Not really. No grainy kiss, no scandalous hand placement. But somehow it hit harder than all the rumors ever had.

She looked radiant in the pictures — eyes closed, mid-performance, glitter like stardust on her cheekbones. In the one shot outside the club, she was sandwiched between Carlos and Rebecca, laughing like the night hadn’t ended. Her arm was looped loosely through Carlos’, Rebecca standing close on her other side, all three of them glowing under the Madrid streetlights.

Lando clicked his phone off. Turned it back on. And called Max.

It rang once.

Twice.

“Bro,” Max answered, half amused and half wary, like he already knew why he was calling.

“You were at the show?” Lando asked, skipping the pleasantries.

“I was.”

“And you didn’t think to—” Lando stopped himself. “She looked… good.”

Max was silent for a beat. “She was incredible.”

“And then the club?”

Another pause.

“Yeah,” Max admitted, a little quieter. “Carlos and Rebecca took her out after. Just to celebrate. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Did she seem…” Lando trailed off, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know. Weird? Off?”

Max sighed. “No, mate. She seemed free.”

Lando leaned forward, elbows on his knees, the room around him suddenly too quiet. “You really think she’s okay?”

“I think she’s better than okay,” Max said. “I think she’s finally figuring out what her life looks like without constantly being judged for it. Without you in it.”

The words landed like a punch — not cruel, just honest.

Lando swallowed hard. “You know I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I know,” Max said. “But you still let her feel like she had to go through it alone.”

There was nothing left to say after that.

Just the low hum of the call, the sound of a friendship quietly splintering under the weight of something heavier than either of them could name.

“She deserves to be happy,” Max added softly.

Lando nodded, even though no one could see it. “Yeah,” he said, barely above a whisper. “She does.”

And then he hung up.

The post was still open on his screen, YN frozen mid-laugh between two people who didn’t let her go.

For the first time, Lando wondered if he’d already lost her for good.

—

yn_ln added two posts to her story!

seen by lando, carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, and 10,300,094 others.

{caption 1 : oh madrid, how i love you. thank you for an amazing last show of this tour.} {caption 2 : ty @/yourbff for the new shirt. something big coming soon.}

—

lando : yn can we please talk about this?

↳ lando : I’ll do anything. I can fly out rn and we can talk or you can just yell at me.

↳ lando : please yn.

↳ lando : I love you.

↳ yn_ln : if you really loved me, you would’ve never done that to me. I don’t want to talk lando. i want you out of my life, forever. please. give me my time. give me my peace.

alexandrasaintmleux : you are so beautiful it is insane. but how are you doing my love?

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : making it through. would love to see your beautiful face when i come back to monaco tho:)

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux : absolutely! can’t wait!

oscarpiastri : im sorry he is so fucking stupid. hoping you will still come down and see me though :/

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : I most definitely will, Osc.

liked by oscarpiastri

oscarpiastri: hope you’re doing well though, yn. always here to talk if you need.

liked by yn_ln

carlossainz55 : so proud, cariño❤️

liked by yn_ln

—

yn_ln

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri & 14,090,007 others.

yn_ln : well, whatever that was. it’s ok im ok + mv out everywhere now.

—

view 909,475 other comments.

alexandrasaintmleux : my jaw is still on the ground. you absolutely ate that (and him) up.

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : i love youuuuuuu

georgerussell63 : if i were him or HER id be in hiding for the next 20 years.

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : one can only hope.

liked by georgerussell63

franciscagomes : you are so fucking hot. he fumbled so hard

liked by yn_ln

francolapinto : i volunteer to be the rebound

liked by yn_ln

alexalbon : remind me to never get on your bad side. pls don’t write about me

liked by yn_ln

↳ yn_ln : won’t write about you but will write about your angel gf who is the loml

liked by alexalbon and lilymhe

↳ lilymhe : YOU ARE SO FUCKING HOT. NO MAN DESERVES ALL THAT. GIMME.

liked by yn_ln

charles_leclerc : hope they are both listening to this rn. you gagged THEM

liked by yn_ln

↳yn_ln : who taught you that??

liked by charles_leclerc

↳charles_leclerc : alex

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and charles_leclerc

olliebearman : i knew you were too much of a bad bitch to come back with a sad song. alr on repeat

liked by yn_ln

↳yn_ln : my ollie. ily

liked by olliebearman

maxverstappen1 : i applaud you bc me personally i would’ve ran him over already but public embarrassment works too

liked by yn_ln

↳yn_ln : you still can if you wish

liked by maxverstappen1

iamrebeccad : so proud of my girl. you look soooooo good 😻

liked by yn_ln

↳yn_ln : couldn’t of done it without you my babyyyyy❤️

liked by imrebeccad

username00 : the whole grid in her comments defending her…if i were lando….i would just disappear

liked by yn_ln

carlossainz55 : drooling looking at my screen rn.

liked by yn_ln and iamrebeccad

↳carlossainz55 : so incredibly proud pretty girl

liked by yn_ln and iamrebeccad

pietra.pilao : you are literally GLOWING. i am so happy that you are happy.

liked by yn_ln and maxfewtrell

↳ yn_ln : love you angel

liked by pietra.pilao

—

The sky had started turning that perfect, syrupy gold — the kind of light that made even a parking lot look cinematic. My boots were sticking to the pavement, and the car hood I’d just climbed down from was still hot beneath my fingertips. I could feel mascara drying in the corners of my eyes and someone was yelling about lighting, but all I could think was— is this what closure feels like? Then I heard him.

“Tell me that I didn’t miss you in the splits.”

I turned around, and there they were. Carlos — in a white tee and sunglasses, holding a coffee— and Rebecca beside him, smirking and gorgeous My heart did this dumb little twist. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until I saw them.

“We brought caffeine, love and hugs.” Rebecca said, sliding her arm around my waist.

“And if needed,” Carlos added, mock serious, “I will personally run Lando over. In that car, preferably.”

I couldn’t help it — I laughed. The kind of laugh that cracked my chest open just enough to let the ache breathe. I ran straight to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders, letting myself melt into the familiarity.

“I missed you guys.”

“You’re killing it,” Carlos murmured into my hair.

“You’re terrifying. In a really hot way,” Rebecca added, fanning me.

The crew kept moving around us, but I didn’t care. I just wanted this moment. Us.

I leaned into Carlos’s side and took a sip of the coffee he held up for me. I could still feel adrenaline buzzing in my ribs. “I just… I didn’t want the world to think he broke me,” I admitted quietly. “Even if, for a minute, he did.”

Carlos took my hand, warm and steady. “You didn’t get broken, cariño,” he said. “You got louder. Louder and hotter.”

Rebecca nodded fiercely. “And stronger. And bitchier. In a good way.”

I laughed again. The ache loosened a little more. I glanced at the monitor where the last take played back — me dancing on the car, mouthing the words like a woman who didn’t look back. Maybe this was what healing looked like. Glittery, a little messy, but surrounded by the people who reminded you who you were.

—

We just had wrapped for the day, the sun was lightly setting behind the clouds and I took a deep breath as I walked off set. I closed myself in my dressing room and let myself fall on the couch. I lied there for a few minutes, thinking, processing— not sure where my life was going next. Enough of that. I pushed myself up and quickly changed, checking my makeup in the mirror. I grabbed my bag and made my way out but I found myself with a smile on my face. Because just past the edge of the set, I saw them.

Carlos leaned against his car, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat, hair windswept and cheeks flushed from the cold. Rebecca stood beside him, all glowing skin and easy elegance, both with a small smile that made my heart drop in the best way.

I didn’t realize how tightly I’d been holding it all together until I saw them. I walked over slowly, like if I moved too fast it would break the spell.

“You waited,” I said, voice low. Maybe a little shaky.

Rebecca passed me a cup. “Of course we did.”

Carlos tilted his head, eyes soft. “Did you think we wouldn’t?”

I didn’t answer. I just let myself sink into their arms — into Carlos’s steady warmth and Rebecca’s grounding touch. I think I sighed for the first time all day.

“We’re stealing you,” Rebecca murmured into my hair. “We have a reservation, you need real food, and I’m not letting you spiral in a trailer eating Sour Patch Kids and watch TikToks.”

Carlos kissed the side of my head. “Come on. You deserve a night off.”

They took me somewhere tucked into the hills above the city — candlelit tables, soft music, a quiet breeze. It wasn’t flashy, but it was perfect. I sat between them in the booth, fingers tangled with Rebecca’s under the table while Carlos poured me a glass of wine with one hand and stole my bread with the other. We laughed. A lot. But it wasn’t the kind of laughter you use to fill silence or avoid feelings. It was the kind that comes when your soul finally exhales.

“You know,” Rebecca said gently, at one point between courses, “watching you today… I was proud of you in a way I don’t think I’ve ever felt before. Not just because you looked hot — although, you did.”

Carlos grinned, nudging her. “Obviously.”

She smiled, then looked back at me. “But because you turned pain into power. And it didn’t look bitter. It looked like healing.”

My throat tightened. I reached for Carlos’s hand across the table and he didn’t hesitate. His thumb brushed over mine, slow and steady.

“You looked free,” he said simply. “Like you remembered who you were before the headlines, before the breakup, before him.”

I couldn’t say anything back. Just squeezed both their hands and tried to memorize the way it felt to be so completely seen. After dinner, we ended up on the beach — Rebecca’s idea. She said she needed to feel the sand and the stars and the sea to remind herself the world was bigger than Instagram comments. I sat between them on a blanket we found in Carlos’s trunk, their coats draped over my shoulders, watching the waves roll in and out. No noise. No pressure. Just the kind of quiet that felt like safety.

“You know what’s funny?” I said softly. “I used to think being loved meant being watched. Like, being chosen in a room full of people.”

Carlos glanced over, brow furrowed in that quiet, gentle way of his. “And now?”

I smiled, just a little. “Now I think it’s this. People who don’t need to choose you in a crowd because they’re already sitting next to you. Holding your hand. Sharing their fries.”

Rebecca rested her head on my shoulder, pressing a kiss to the space just beneath my jaw. “You never had to perform for us. You never will.”

Carlos’s fingers brushed mine again, lacing them together.

“You don’t have to be the strongest girl in the room,” he said. “You can just… be ours.”

And under the stars, wrapped in borrowed jackets and the softness of being fully known, I finally believed him.

—

I’d been holding the email open on my phone for almost an hour. The subject line still made my stomach twist.

Final Confirmation: Private Villa Booking — Amalfi Coast.

It was meant to be the celebration. The wrap-up. The quiet exhale after the noise of the tour. Just me, Lando, ocean views, overpriced wine, and no phones. We booked it months ago. Back when I thought we’d be forever. Back when I still flinched when people called him my anchor. Now it was just… mine. Still waiting. Still booked. Still beautiful. And the idea of going alone made my chest ache. I looked up from the screen. Rebecca was curled on my couch with a face mask on, one leg tossed over Carlos’s lap as he read something on his iPad. They were quiet. Safe. Mine, in that strange, soul-deep way.

“Can I ask you guys something?” My voice came out quieter than I expected.

Carlos glanced up immediately. Rebecca pulled off one earbud.

“Of course.”

I sat down on the floor in front of them, twisting my fingers in the hem of my hoodie.

“So, there was this trip… to the Amalfi Coast. It was supposed to be a post-tour getaway.” I paused, swallowing hard. “It was meant to be with Lando.”

They both stayed silent, waiting.

“I thought about canceling it,” I admitted. “But I didn’t. Something in me kept it. And now I… I want to go. I need to go.” I looked up, eyes burning slightly. “But I don’t want to go alone.”

Rebecca’s face softened immediately. Carlos reached forward and brushed his fingers gently over my knee.

“So come with me,” I whispered. “Please. I want to rewrite what it was supposed to be. I want to laugh and drink and sleep under the sun with people who make me feel like myself again. I want to take up space and not feel guilty about it. I want to go and not be haunted.”

Carlos didn’t hesitate. “Then we’ll go.”

Rebecca leaned forward, resting her forehead lightly against mine. “Baby, you never had to ask.”

“We’ll make it yours again,” Carlos added. “All of it. Just say when.”

—

carlossainz55 added two posts to his story!

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{caption 1 : from now on yn will be planning the trips} {caption 2 : my girls ❤️}

oscarpiastri : can she plan my next trip too?

↳ oscarpiastri : also i know how excited she was for this trip so thank you for not letting her go on her own.

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yn_ln

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yn_ln : my peace.

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—

I should’ve known something was up when Rebecca told me to wear the black slip dress. Not suggested, not playfully offered an option — she told me. In that tone. I didn’t question it.

It was the kind of silky, clingy fabric that made me walk a little slower. The kind of dress that clung to your collarbones and shimmered in candlelight. I paired it with gold heels and a soft perfume.

And when I stepped out of the villa and saw Carlos waiting in an all-black linen button-down, his sleeves rolled up and his hair soft in the breeze, I forgot how to breathe for a second.

“Wow.”

That’s all he said.

And then Rebecca stepped out behind him, radiant in a champagne satin gown that flowed with every movement, her hair loose and gleaming, and I felt like I’d walked into a dream I didn’t even know I had. Dinner was on the terrace of a quiet, oceanside restaurant. White tablecloths. String lights twinkling overhead. The sea stretched into forever behind us, and everything smelled like salt and citrus and the slight sweetness of fresh basil. It was peaceful. Like we were tucked away from the rest of the world. Like this night didn’t have to end.

We laughed more than we spoke. Carlos ordered the wine and insisted on choosing everyone's plates like he was on some Michelin mission. Rebecca kept feeding me bites from her plate and pressing her hand against my thigh when she laughed. And it all felt like it had always been this way. Like I had always belonged between them. Somewhere between the dessert and the second bottle of wine, Carlos leaned forward, his fingers brushing mine.

“We, uh…” he started, and then looked at Rebecca, who gave him a small nod.

He turned his full attention back to me — soft, serious, that kind of gaze that makes you feel seen all the way through.

“We wanted this trip to be special for you. We know what it was supposed to be.”

I swallowed, the mention of him lingering in the space like a shadow, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. Not here. Not with them.

“But it’s also special for us,” Rebecca added, reaching for my hand, intertwining her fingers with mine. Her eyes searched mine, glassy under the dim lights. “Because being with you… feels like home. It always has.”

Carlos smiled, his thumb running over my knuckles. “And we don’t want it to just be a moment. Or a trip. Or a way to rewrite old memories.”

He paused. “We want it to be the start of something real. With you.”

My heart pounded so loudly I almost didn’t hear him.

“We want you, YN.”

Rebecca’s voice was softer now.

“All of you. Every wild, brilliant, chaotic, breathtaking piece of you. Officially.”

I blinked, suddenly breathless.

My past had always been chaos and press cycles and people twisting my story before I ever had a chance to tell it myself. But this — this — was a moment I got to keep. One they gave me with no conditions, no edits, no masks. Just love. Uncomplicated. Unashamed.

“Yes,” I whispered, tears catching in the corners of my eyes as I smiled.

“God, yes. Of course I want that.”

Carlos kissed my hand. Rebecca leaned in and kissed my cheek. And when I stood to hug them both, caught between their warmth and the sound of waves crashing behind us, I realized this was what peace tasted like. Salt on my lips. Wine on my tongue. And love wrapped around me like silk.

—

Mornings start slow here. Somewhere around 8:30, the sunlight filters in through the linen curtains, golden and warm. The villa smells like sea salt and espresso. Rebecca is usually curled up in one of the oversized chairs on the balcony with a book in her lap and her sunglasses pushed into her hair. Carlos takes his coffee out on the terrace and reads the news like a 40-year-old man on holiday. And me? I’ve been writing.

Not because I have to. Not because a label is breathing down my neck or the internet is waiting for a comeback. I’ve been writing because something inside me finally feels quiet enough to let the words come out.

I sit barefoot in the kitchen in one of Carlos’ Williams T-shirts with a pen tucked behind my ear and a notebook that smells faintly of sunscreen. Sometimes I write lyrics while I sip cold orange juice straight from the bottle. Sometimes I hum melodies into my phone between bites of toast. Sometimes I sing half-formed verses into the soft skin of Rebecca’s shoulder while she’s stretching beside me, and she just murmurs, “That one’s gonna hurt in the best way.”

The door creaks behind me. I glance up just as Carlos walks in shirtless, towel slung over his neck from his swim, hair wet and eyes sparkling.

“Writing again?” he asks, dropping a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Trying,” I murmur, chewing on the end of the pencil.

“It’s weird. I feel like I’ve got so much to say and for once… no one's yelling over me.”

He sits beside me, stretching out long legs, his arm brushing mine.

“That’s because you finally surrounded yourself with people who want to listen,” he says softly, eyes meeting mine. “And people who love the way you say it.”

I swallow hard at that. Rebecca walks in with her hair tied up in a scarf, carrying a plate of fresh fruit and croissants like she’s straight out of a dream.

“Breakfast for the tortured artist,” she grins, plopping down next to me. “Please write a song about how you always steal food."

I laugh and lean into her shoulder.

“Only if you promise to be in the music video.”

“Done,” she smirks.

Carlos rolls his eyes.

“Am I allowed in this one, or am I just creative director again?”

“Creative director and shirtless muse,” I grin.

They laugh, and I soak it in. The comfort. The lightness. The way my heart isn’t clenched anymore when I think about writing love songs. Because they’re not memories now — they’re moments. Real ones. Quiet and full.

Later that afternoon, Rebecca will convince me to swim in the ocean and Carlos will carry my notebook like it’s sacred, making sure it doesn’t get wet. We’ll eat lemon pasta on the patio and they’ll convince me that “the heartbreak album” doesn’t have to be all heartbreak. That I can let the softness in too. And maybe… maybe they’re right. Maybe this time, I get to write something that sounds like freedom. Like beginnings. Like the kind of love that lets you stay exactly who you are — and holds you there, gently.

—

yn_ln

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yn_ln : my new album "starry eyed" tells the story of my heartbreak that turned into the love i found that i've been chasing my whole life. i love you all and i hope this album heals you in the way it healed me. out next friday. -yn

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f1gossipgirls

2,090,111 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Well, well, well… YN LN is officially back—on the charts and in the paddock. Fresh off the release of her heartbreak to healing album “Starry Eyed,” the singer made her stunning return to the F1 world this weekend… and she wasn’t alone. All eyes were on YN as she arrived alongside Carlos Sainz and Rebecca Donaldson, and let’s just say—the rumors are writing themselves. Between the intimate lyrics on the album, the kiss Carlos was spotted giving her on the cheek, the hand-holding with Rebecca, and the cozy walk with Carlos' father—fans are convinced this is more than just friendship. Could this be a new paddock power trio. Because from where we’re standing… it looks like love.

—

The paddock feels different today. Not louder. Not quieter. Just… sharper. Like the air itself is holding its breath. I’ve done red carpets. Stadiums. Late-night talk shows. But somehow, walking through the paddock after everything that’s happened—this is the most intimate stage of them all. The cameras are already turning before we even make it past security. I can feel them catching the moment Carlos’ hand brushes gently against the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd. The way Rebecca slides her fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Because it is. We agreed- no subtlety. No denying. No “we’re just friends” charade. We’re done hiding.

Carlos squeezes my hip gently before stepping to my other side, nodding politely at a journalist who immediately fumbles for her mic. He doesn’t stop. Neither do we. Rebecca leans in as we walk, lips brushing my temple as she whispers, “You’re doing great, love."

I smile up at her, just in time for a wave of camera flashes. Flash. Flash. Flash. Capturing the way I smile at her. At him. At us.

And then—like the universe couldn’t help but stir the pot—we turn the corner and see him.

Lando.

Standing near the McLaren garage, head turned just enough to see us before pretending not to. He freezes for a half-second. That stupid familiar smirk falters. His eyes flick to our hands. To Carlos’ arm still around my waist. To Rebecca whispering something that makes me laugh without meaning to. And for a moment, the noise in the paddock dulls.

Carlos sees him too. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t change his posture. Just tightens his hand slightly on me. Like a quiet reminder: you’re safe. you’re mine.

Rebecca notices. And because she’s Rebecca, she doesn’t just ignore Lando—she smiles at him. Brief. Civil. Ironic. Me? I don’t look away. I meet his eyes for half a second as we walk past, chin high, heart steady. Let him feel the weight of what he threw away. Let him hear the album in his head, track by track. We don’t stop. Don’t stumble. Don’t say a word. At the edge of the Williams garage, we pause.

Carlos lowers his sunglasses just enough to meet my eyes. “You good?”

Rebecca draws soft circles on the back of my hand. “You don’t owe anyone a thing, love. But if this is how you want to do it…”

I turn to her, then to Carlos, and press a kiss to his cheek—right over the place his dimple forms when he grins. Then I lift Rebecca’s hand and kiss her knuckles, slow and sure. And we walk inside, together. Let them whisper. Let him regret. This isn’t revenge. This is freedom.

—

yn_ln

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yn_ln : the album inspo. love you both beyond belief.

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carlossainz55

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carlossainz55 : mis almas gemelas

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yn_ln : love you both forever and ever. thank you for showing me what true love feels like.

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↳ lilymhe : so hot. so iconic.

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celestiamour · 9 months ago

Text

ft. roderick heffley x f! reader — diary of a wimpy kid

╰₊✧ the alcohol made you do it, maybe the feelings too┊0.7k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub roderick┊slight dubcon due to intoxication, reader is a popular mean girl, roderick is whipped & whiny, unprotected piv, more plot than porn sorry

➤ author's note: how did roderick not have any maidens in the movies

“oh my god, could you be any fucking louder?!” you hissed. you couldn’t believe you were doing this, hooking up with a loser like roderick heffley. what would your friends think if they ever found out? they would probably exile you and tell everyone in the school, you’d never hear the end of it unless you moved to a different country or something.

“can help it,” he slurred, planting his face in between the valley of your breasts, “you’re so pretty…” everything about this altercation felt like a dream, so hammered that he couldn’t even think straight and in bed with one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen in his entire life. he wishes that he didn’t drink so much to remember this moment and treasure it, but he also knows that this wouldn’t have happened in the first place if he was any less buzzed.

all you could do was roll your eyes, but at least he was more quiet now that his moans were being muffled by your tits. the music blaring through the walls was loud, yet still not loud enough to drown out how noisy he was. this wasn’t something you typically did, but you were wasted and liked the way he looked at you, so here you were in his bed with his throbbing cock buried deep inside of you.

“i can’t believe i’m doing this,” you sighed, rolling your hips into his and hearing him choke on a moan. “this is all your fault for throwing such a boring ass party.” his little brother and his friend managed to renew some of the fun, but they ended up falling asleep before midnight and the rest of the party was carried on by drunken antics.

“‘m sorry…”

you let out a sound in exasperation at the pang of pity his apology left in your heart, gritting your teeth and closing your eyes for a moment so that you didn’t need to look at how pathetic he was. “it’s fine…” despite how cruelly you treated him at times, he was pretty easy on the eyes and not that bad of a fuck even if he’s clearly more inexperienced than you.

it’s actually kinda cute, you have to admit, how he looks up at you like you’re a goddess and touches you like he’s never seen a woman before. it gave you a rush of confidence that you’d never felt before, but in the end, he was just a hookup and this was the product of drinking too much. you don’t even get the satisfaction of “taming” the bad boy because he’s just some wannabe drummer of a shitty band whose music would make a deaf person beg for them to stop playing, one who chases skirts like a lost puppy and is known for being a flirt so terrible that not even the most desperate girls would be put off by his attempts of being cool.

and yet you’re still here on top of him, his hands digging into your thighs before you grab one of them by the wrist and direct them to rub at your clit, throwing him a bone by praising him for following your directions so obediently and feeling his cock twitch inside of you at your words. you could argue that it was the alcohol all you wanted, and maybe you have to thank it for initiating this contact, but you know deep down that it would have happened sooner or later whether or not you want to admit the infatuation growing over the past few years. you always acted as if you hated him when you truly hated his charm that shines through when he passionately plays his trash songs and his dopey smile every time you so much as looked his way.

you’ll think about all that later when you aren’t chasing your own orgasm and suffering from a banging headache. who knows, perhaps you’ll be able to coax a confession out of him and chalk it up to your friends as a pity date, they’ll believe it and probably encourage you to trick him into falling in love with you before breaking his heart. after all, you two are from completely different worlds, but you’ll make it work somehow.

#📜. her works #rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley smut #diary of a wimpy kid

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oschaoscha181 · 29 days ago

Text

BKDK dynamic is actually INSANE when you really break it down. Like, Childhood friends to enemies to rivals to trauma bonded codependents to soulmates who cannot function unless the other is within a 10-foot radius??? Shakespeare WISHES. Bakugou is the walking embodiment of explosive repression and misplaced anger and Deku is the poster child of chronic self-sacrifice and internalized inadequacy. And somehow they orbit each other like dysfunctional planets that still manage to pull the other into a better trajectory every time. Like… you’re telling me Bakugou spent YEARS bullying this kid and the second Deku gets strong enough to push back, Bakugou has a full existential crisis and starts examining his ENTIRE WORLDVIEW?? And Deku? DEKU??? The same Deku who idolized Bakugou to an unhealthy level, who was hurt and humiliated but never hated him??? WHO FORGAVE HIM BEFORE BAKUGOU EVEN APOLOGIZED?? And don’t even get me STARTED on that apology. That beautifully raw “I’m sorry for everything i did” moment. Like, what do you MEAN Bakugou “doesn’t do feelings” but he literally got on the battlefield, bloody and bruised, and confessed that he’d been hating himself this whole time for how he treated Deku?? That’s not enemies to lovers, that’s penance to redemption to mutual devotion. Their bond is so charged it might as well be another Quirk. And no one NO ONE gets Deku like katsuki does. Not All Might. Not the rest of Class 1A. Not even his mom. Bakugou sees him. The power. The self-destruction. The loneliness. And Deku?? He never stopped seeing the good in Bakugou, even when Bakugou couldn’t see it in himself. their bond isnt about fixing each other, its about growth through fire. They crash into each other like tectonic plates and create something stronger every time. I don’t care if it’s canon or not, BKDK is endgame in every universe where love wins. Anyway...!

#bkdk #mha #my hero acedamia #bnha #deku #izuku #midoriya #izuku midoriya #bakugou #katsuki

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verstappensrealwife · 1 year ago

Text

No regrets - Oscar Piastri x Inexperienced!Fem!Reader

[oscar piastri masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... reader loses her virginity to oscar. ʚɞ fluff, smut. ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1200 words ʚɞ warnings: fem receiving: fingering and oral, p in v, loss of virginity, not proofread. Pussy and shaft….

-୨♡୧-

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

He was your neighbor for goodness sake!

��Good morning!” He greeted each morning as you left your apartment at 8am sharp to head to work. You’d reply in kind and go on with your day, sometimes thinking to the cute boy across the hall.

Oscar, however, was not a morning person. He practically forced himself out of bed just to see you, speak to you, pretend to be going somewhere, then go back inside and chastise himself mentally for not even trying to ask you out.

One evening as you were coming home, he was leaving his apartment, and almost tripped over his feet when he saw you.

He was not prepared to speak to you. Each morning he’s silently sike himself up to utter two words. Now he was stuck in a situation: ignore you and pretend he didn’t just nearly fall straight into you, or mutter some words you probably won’t hear because of how quiet he would inevitably be.

“Hi,” You smiled as you pushed your key into your door.

“Hello.” He said back, not sure whether to walk away- very quickly- or stay and attempt to talk to you. It was the latter. “Sorry to be nosy but urm… well… I don’t think i actually know your name?”

“Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.” You replied, holding your hand out to him to shake. His hand felt more than limp in your grasp.

“Oscar… Piastri.”

“Nice to meet you, Oscar… Piastri.” you giggled, slightly making fun of his shy demeanour

He huffed a small laugh, “Sorry to be more nosy, but I don’t think I have your number either?” He tried… he really did. And he succeeded!

“Oh! Sure, yeah!” You passed him your phone, a small smile playing on your lips as you watched him press the digits into a new contact. “Well, I should be going, a girl needs to eat.”

“I- I mean you can eat with me…” He said, “I- that sounds weird- I- Do you wanna go on a date with me?”

That was the first of many dates he had invited you on. It became almost routine over the 2023 summer break for Oscar to take you out, every Friday evening, 7pm.

But by the end of August he had to of course go back to travelling the globe, racing cars.

The two of you stayed in touch, he gave you a key to his apartment to water his plants- of which only 2 were real. He routinely called you on a Friday night- unless team duties came upon him- to keep up with tradition.

But he grew tired of not being able to see you, physically.

The flight was long, and boring, but seeing Oscar as the first thing out the airport was more than exciting.He hugged you- longer than friends would hug- and led you by the small of your back to his car.

“To the hotel?” He asked you.

“Yes sir!” You smiled.

The hotel room you were put in was huge, the bed probably bigger than your kitchen at home.

Before you even touched your suitcase you fell, backwards, into the pristine white sheets of the hotel bed. Oscar falling in suit.

Lay next to eachother, you turned your head to see him already looking at you. He had a lovesick look in his eyes as he admired your face, eyes, lips. The more he stared at your lips, the more he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing them.

His body acted before his mind and he was kissing you before he knew it. You were a little taken aback but didn’t pull away- you didn’t want to.

Until he moved his hand from your face, to your waist, to the inside of your leg.

You jumped up quickly, almost headbutting him in the nose in the process.

He was more than swift to throw apologies at you, sorries and quick movement to the other side of the bed.

There was an uncomfortable silence which Oscar hated. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words could fix, what in his mind, was the most awkward encounter with a woman in his life.

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” You said quietly from the far side of the bed. He looked over at you, face flushed a light pink in embarrassment. “I– embarrassingly enough, im a virgin.”

He frowned confused. “Your a virgin? Like… never had sex… You?”

“Rub it in why dont you,” You laughed, “Why’s that so shocking?”

“Look at you! You’re like the most beautiful woman i’ve layed eyes on.” He wasn’t lying. “I thought men would be throwing themselves at you- I would.”

Now it was your turn to blush crimson, heat rising up your neck and across your face. You carefully shimmied towards him, holding his face gently. “If I’m gonna do it, I want it to be with you.”

That was all he needed to hear. He was on you like predator to prey, greedily kissing you, feeling your body needily. Until he went lower.

He was tentative, gentle in pushing his hands under the fabric of your underwear. Rubbing his finger up and down, smearing the wetness across your pussy. “Thats a good girl,” He said quietly. You weren’t meant to even hear him, but you did. And god, did it make you moan louder. He smirked at your visceral reaction. You heartbeat quickening as he pushed one finger, then two inside.

“See, no need to be nervous… Feels good, hm?”

You babbled some sort of response to him, a ‘yes’ somewhere in the jumble of the reply.

He pushed the clothes off of your bottom half completely, before moving to pull the shirt off your torso, unclipping your bra with ease and tossing it somewhere behind him. He was more than gentle as he kissed you, your neck, chest, stomach, thighs, and finally your clit.

He licked and sucked like there was no tomorrow. Indulging in the way your body reacted to him, to what he was doing to you, how he made you feel.

The first orgasm washed over you, legs shaking as he licked up everything. Climbing back up your body he was face to face, his mouth covered in a shine of liquid. “So, do you wanna do this. Really do it.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. He undressed, and kneeled between your legs, rolling a condom up the length of his shaft before positioning it infront of the entrance.

You took one final deep breath and he slowing pushed his hips towards your own. It hurt less than you had imagined- -but that didn’t take away from the fact it still stung.

He hadn’t moved in almost 2 minutes before you gave him the go ahead, pulling his hips back slowly and pushing them back towards you at the same pace. It hurt less as he carried on, eventually the sting turning to pleasure.

“Doing so- fuck- so well for me.” He groaned as he reached his peak slowly.

You could barely make words, so stuck to just moaning his name over and over again, whines of need flowing from your lips.

“Gonna cum, okay baby?”

You nodded quickly as he quickened his pace a little before his hips stuttered against yours before pulling out of you and immediately getting up. “I’ll be back- just need to clean you up.”

You never imagined losing your virginity to him.

But god, you didn’t regret it. Not one bit.

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solxamber · 9 months ago

Note

do you think you could write about a white rabbit reader like how did with wild cat? as in the white rabbit from alice in wonderland— who’s more of a polite anxious mess trying to follow the queens strict rules but is kind of bad at it. possibly shy or on the quieter side like a rabbit beastman would probably be, considering most of the beastmens personalities align with their animal counterparts behavior. and for some reason most of the beastmen we see, or even the merpeople, are all predator animals so i would love to see their interactions with a prey animal. for the first time ever, leona would actually be scientifically correct in calling the reader an herbivore. they would also be the only beastman who’s not sorted into savanaclaw i imagine. in canonical alice in wonderland, or at least a majority of its interpretations, the white rabbit is considered a neutral, somewhat villain leaning character. he works for the queen but he’s never outright evil, if anything he’s kind of a coward as he is initially terrified of alice. so i can see reader being mostly benevolent and a little bit of a scaredy cat who’s still relatively friendly. thank you

White Rabbit! Reader x Everyone

Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like it

Character: All NRC + Staff + Rollo, Neige

Riddle Rosehearts:

You’re always on edge around Riddle, frantically trying to follow the Queen's rules and his. But you trip over your own feet so often that Riddle ends up scolding you almost every day.

"Rule 76: No running in the halls!" Riddle huffs as you scramble past him, dropping a handful of papers as you trip over your own shoes.

You fumble around, trying to gather the papers while stammering an apology, eyes wide and twitching like a startled rabbit. “S-sorry! I didn’t mean to—oh no! Rule 17: Never drop important documents...”

Riddle looks ready to blow up, but when you shoot him those big, panicked eyes, he exhales sharply through his nose, the lecture stuck in his throat. "Just… get it together!" he mutters, turning on his heel, clearly flustered. “How am I supposed to enforce rules when you look like you're going to faint every time I open my mouth?!”

In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’d be so strict if he knew you were working for the "Queen." But you don't have the nerve to tell him that, so you just nod and awkwardly salute.

Trey Clover:

You never quite relax around Trey, even though he's the calmest person in Heartslabyul. Every time you’re near him, you’re just waiting for the moment when he’ll ask you to do something scary, like taste one of his experimental dishes or—worse—eat cake in front of Riddle. The idea makes your ears droop.

"Hey, you okay?" Trey asks when he notices you standing stiffly by the kitchen door. He’s got flour on his apron and a knife in hand, chopping fruit with easy precision.

You jump at the sound of his voice and nearly knock over a stack of plates. "I-I’m fine!" you squeak, standing even straighter like you’re in the Queen’s court.

Trey chuckles softly. "You know, I’m not going to bite. Unless I’m making rabbit stew." He winks.

Your eyes widen in horror, ears trembling. "R-rabbit stew?!"

He laughs, holding up his hands. "I'm kidding! Kidding!" Trey seems to find your reactions endlessly amusing, always leaning in with a gentle smile. "But if you need help relaxing, just say the word. Maybe we can make some tea. No pressure."

But all you hear is "pressure," and you feel like you're about to combust.

Cater Diamond:

Cater thinks you're the cutest thing on two legs, especially when you're in a flustered state. Which, unfortunately for you, is almost all the time.

“Yo, lil’ bunny!” Cater calls out as he sidles up to you in the hall, phone in hand. You’re mid-panic about how you’re going to explain to Riddle why your shoes are untied, your tie is crooked, and you accidentally skipped breakfast because you were too nervous to eat.

You freeze, giving Cater a look like a deer in headlights—or rather, a rabbit in a snare. “D-don’t call me that,” you mumble, ears twitching furiously. “R-Riddle might hear…”

Cater just grins, pulling out his phone to snap a quick selfie of your panicked expression. “You’ve gotta chill! It’s like, the 5th time today you’ve looked like you're on trial.”

You flinch. On trial?! That’s even worse! “I-I can’t relax! W-what if I break a rule?!”

Cater just pats your head, ruffling your hair. "Well, I think you're doing just fine! Plus, it makes for great content. Smile, #bunnyfails!"

You want to disappear into the ground. But Cater just keeps snapping pics and laughing.

Ace Trappola:

Ace treats you like an adorable walking ball of stress that’s just begging to be messed with. And who is Ace if not a professional button-pusher?

"Hey! Rabbit!" Ace shouts across the Heartslabyul gardens one day, and you nearly jump out of your skin, spilling tea all over yourself.

“E-Excuse me?!” you sputter, face burning as you frantically blot at the stain on your uniform.

Ace saunters over with a grin on his face. "Oh, sorry. Did I startle you? You’re just so jumpy—like, literally! It’s hilarious!"

"I-I’m not jumpy!" you insist, but your trembling hands betray you as you fumble with your napkin, accidentally knocking the sugar bowl off the table.

Ace bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. "Dude, you’re killing me! I swear, every time I’m around, it’s like watching a sitcom! *This* is quality entertainment!"

You huff, glaring at him, ears drooping. "I’m not entertainment."

Ace just gives you a thumbs-up. "Sure you are. And the best part is, you do it all for free!"

Deuce Spade:

Deuce wants to help. He really does. But every time he sees you looking like you’re two seconds from a meltdown, he panics even harder than you do.

"W-whoa! Are you okay?!" Deuce exclaims when he finds you frantically digging through your bag, trying to find the Queen’s latest decree—or was it Riddle’s study notes? You can't remember because you’re too stressed.

"I-I lost the thing! You know, the thing!" you gasp out, waving your arms wildly.

Deuce pales. "Oh no, that’s bad! I-I can help! What thing?!”

"I DON’T KNOW!" you cry, at the peak of panic now.

Deuce stares at you for a second, eyes wide. Then he also starts scrambling around. "Okay, okay! We can find it! Stay calm! Well—not calm, but calmer!"

You both end up running in circles until Trey finds you and asks, deadpan, “What exactly are you two looking for?”

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Um…” Deuce rubs the back of his head sheepishly. “I... kind of forgot.”

Leona Kingscholar:

Leona knows exactly how to push your buttons—and he does so with as little effort as possible. For someone so calm and lazy, he seems to get a real kick out of watching you squirm.

“Oi, herbivore,” Leona drawls from his usual spot under the shade of a tree. You freeze, clutching your bag tighter as you glance nervously in his direction. “Why are you sneaking around like a prey animal? Oh, wait—you are one.”

You flinch and stammer, “I-I’m not sneaking, I’m just, um... minding my own business?”

Leona smirks, lazily cracking open one eye to look at you. “If you ‘mind your business’ any harder, you’re gonna trip over your own feet.”

You gulp, taking a step back, but he’s not done with you. “Maybe if you tried relaxing for once, you wouldn’t be so jittery.”

“I-I can’t help it!” you squeak, nearly tripping as you scuttle away, ears twitching furiously. “I have to follow the rules!”

Leona watches you run off, chuckling lowly to himself. “Rules, huh? Just don’t drop dead from the stress, or I’ll have to carry your sorry hide out of here.”

You spend the next week worrying that he’s going to jump out of nowhere and pounce on you—but of course, that’s way too much effort for Leona.

Ruggie Bucchi:

Ruggie sees you as someone who’s just begging to be teased, and he has no qualms about taking full advantage of your easily flustered nature.

One day, while you’re doing your best to stay out of trouble, Ruggie sneaks up behind you, flashing that mischievous grin of his. “Hey there, Bunny! Need some help with that?”

You yelp and nearly leap out of your skin, sending your stack of papers flying in every direction. “R-Ruggie! You startled me!”

Ruggie snickers as he helps you gather up the papers. “Aw, c’mon, I didn’t mean to. You’re just too easy, y’know? Makes me wanna mess with you a little.”

You pout, ears drooping. “W-well, it’s not very nice...”

He shrugs, still grinning. “What can I say? It’s in my nature. But I guess I’ll help you out, just this once.” He leans in closer and lowers his voice, adding, “Don’t expect it for free, though.”

Your face goes pale. “Wh-what do you want?”

Ruggie chuckles. “Relax, I’m just teasing! For now, anyway.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you clutching your papers and wondering if every beastman in Savanaclaw has it out for you.

Jack Howl:

Jack feels a sense of duty to protect you. Even though he thinks you’re a little too skittish for your own good, he respects how hard you try to follow the rules—even when you trip over them.

“Hey, wait up,” Jack calls after you one day as you’re hurrying across campus. You turn to see him jogging over, looking concerned.

“O-oh! Jack! I-I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?” you ask nervously, already panicking that you might have broken some rule.

Jack frowns, crossing his arms. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you always assume you did?”

You blink up at him, ears twitching. “I-I’m just worried I’ll mess up...”

Jack sighs, shaking his head. “You’re too hard on yourself. Look, if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll step in. No one’s gonna hurt you while I’m around.”

Your eyes widen. “R-really? You’d do that?”

Jack nods firmly. “Of course. You’ve got a good heart, even if you’re a bit jumpy. Someone’s gotta look out for you.”

You smile up at him, feeling a little more reassured. But before you can thank him, you trip over your own feet and fall forward—right into Jack’s arms.

He catches you easily, looking down at you with a raised brow. “You’re really something, you know that?”

You blush furiously, scrambling to right yourself. “S-sorry! I-I didn’t mean to...”

Jack just chuckles softly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got your back, Bunny.”

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul sees your anxiety as an untapped market. He’s confident he could help soothe your nerves—with a little contract, of course.

One day, while you’re quietly minding your own business in the Mostro Lounge, Azul slips into the seat across from you with his signature grin. “Ah, my dear friend. You seem rather... tense.”

You freeze in place, blinking rapidly. “O-oh! N-no, I’m just... trying to follow the rules.”

Azul’s eyes gleam behind his glasses. “Why don’t I offer you a deal? I can help alleviate some of that stress of yours. All it would take is a small favor in return...”

Your ears twitch nervously. “U-um... I-I’m not sure...”

Azul leans closer, lowering his voice to a silky whisper. “Imagine it—no more anxiety, no more worries about breaking the rules. All you’d have to do is sign here...”

You nearly pass out from the pressure, eyes darting around the lounge as if looking for an escape. “I-I think I’m fine! Really! Thank you!”

Azul chuckles darkly as you bolt from the lounge. He watches you go with a sigh. “Ah, such potential... But I suppose it’s not every day I encounter a rabbit so determined to resist.”

Jade Leech:

Jade finds your anxious behavior endlessly fascinating. He’s not one to outright tease—he prefers subtlety—but he enjoys watching you squirm in his presence.

One afternoon, you’re frantically trying to fix a mistake in your homework when Jade appears behind you without a sound. “Oh my, is everything alright?”

You yelp, almost knocking over your ink bottle. “J-Jade! You startled me!”

Jade smiles pleasantly, though you can see a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I apologize. I simply couldn’t help but notice how... flustered you seemed.”

You try to calm your racing heart. “I-I’m just trying to finish this assignment...”

Jade leans over your shoulder, examining your work. “Ah, I see. Perhaps I could offer some assistance? Though I must admit, it is rather... amusing to watch you at times.”

You flush, ears twitching in embarrassment. “A-amusing?”

Jade chuckles softly, standing upright again. “Indeed. You’re quite endearing in your own way.”

You’re not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but you nod meekly. “T-thank you... I think?”

Floyd Leech:

Floyd loves messing with you. It’s as simple as that. Your reactions are priceless, and he never misses an opportunity to make you jump out of your skin.

“Bunnyyyyy!” Floyd calls out, voice echoing through the hall as he chases after you. You speed up, desperately trying to get away, but Floyd is faster, his long legs catching up in no time.

He grabs you by the shoulders and spins you around with a grin. “Gotcha!”

You practically shriek. “F-Floyd! I-I wasn’t—”

Floyd cackles, bending down to look you in the eyes. “You’re always so jumpy, Bunny. It’s fun chasing you! Makes me wanna squeeze you even more.”

You tremble under his intense gaze, feeling like a mouse caught by a cat. “P-please don’t squeeze too hard...”

Floyd laughs again and ruffles your hair. “No promises! But you’re too funny to squish all at once. Guess I’ll just have to keep playing with you!”

You manage a weak smile, trying not to collapse from sheer anxiety. “G-great...”

Kalim Al-Asim:

Kalim is oblivious to your constant anxiety and thinks you’re just really shy. He goes out of his way to befriend you, always offering kind words and gifts to make you feel welcome.

One day, Kalim approaches you with a beaming smile, holding out a brightly wrapped gift. “Hey, I got this for you!”

Your ears twitch in surprise. “F-for me? Why?”

Kalim laughs cheerfully. “Why not? You’re my friend! And you always look so nervous, I thought this might cheer you up!”

You blink down at the gift, overwhelmed by his kindness. “I-I don’t know what to say...”

Kalim grins wider. “No need to say anything! Just know that if you ever feel anxious, I’m here for you, okay?”

His sunny demeanor is so contagious that you can’t help but smile back. “Th-thank you, Kalim. That means a lot...”

Kalim claps you on the back with a laugh, nearly knocking you off your feet. “No worries! We’re friends, after all!”

Jamil Viper:

Jamil is mildly exasperated by your anxious nature. He already has his hands full with Kalim, so dealing with you on top of that feels like another babysitting job. Still, he does his best to help you out when Kalim inevitably ropes you into their social circle.

One day, you’re standing awkwardly at the edge of a party, trying to blend into the wallpaper when Jamil approaches you with a sigh. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.”

You glance at him nervously. “I-I don’t want to cause any trouble...”

Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not causing trouble. Just... relax a little, okay? You don’t have to be so anxious all the time.”

You look up at him with wide eyes. “I-I don’t know how...”

Jamil sighs again, crossing his arms. “Well, just... follow Kalim’s lead, I guess. He doesn’t worry about anything.”

You look over at Kalim, who’s dancing on a table and laughing without a care in the world. “Easier said than done...”

Jamil gives you a tired look. “Tell me about it.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil is very much like the Queen you serve—strict, elegant, and entirely intimidating. Which means every time you’re around him, you end up feeling like you’re going to pass out from sheer anxiety.

“Why are you slouching like that?” Vil snaps, noticing you trying to fade into the background during a Pomefiore meeting. He points a perfectly manicured finger at you, expression sharp. “Posture is important, darling.”

You immediately stand straighter, ears trembling slightly. “I-I’m sorry, Vil! I didn’t mean to—"

“Hmm,” Vil tilts his head, examining you with a critical eye. “I swear, being around you is like trying to train an anxious little bunny. How am I supposed to shape you into anything presentable if you’re always two seconds away from fainting?”

“I-I promise to do better!” you stammer, sweating bullets.

Vil sighs dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just… try not to look like prey when you’re in front of an audience, alright? We can’t have Pomefiore’s image ruined because someone mistook you for their lunch.”

You nod furiously, completely unsure how you’re supposed to accomplish that but determined to try.

Rook Hunt:

Rook finds you utterly fascinating, like a rare creature he’s determined to observe in its natural habitat. Which is to say, he’s always popping up out of nowhere and scaring the living daylights out of you.

“Mon lapin!” Rook exclaims from behind you, and you jump about three feet in the air, ears standing straight up.

“R-Rook! Please don’t do that!” you gasp, clutching your chest as you try to calm your racing heart.

Rook just smiles at you, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ah, but I cannot help it! The way you react—so pure, so genuine, like a rabbit hearing a twig snap in the forest! It’s magnifique!”

You gulp, ears slowly drooping back down. “I-I don’t think being compared to prey is exactly a compliment…”

“But of course it is!” Rook insists, stepping closer and giving you a dazzling grin. “You are a creature of instinct, always alert, always prepared to flee! There is beauty in that, mon ami. And I, as your loyal huntsman, will ensure no harm befalls you.”

You smile nervously, unsure if that’s comforting or even scarier. “T-that’s… good to know?”

Rook’s eyes sparkle, as if he’s just found his next great challenge. “Ah, but one day, I hope to see you without fear, to see the calm, serene smile of a rabbit at rest. What a glorious sight that would be!”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you just nod, deciding it’s better not to question Rook’s eccentricity.

Epel Felmier:

Epel thinks you’re kind of cool, actually. You’re nervous all the time, yeah, but you’re also from a strict background and work under pressure constantly. He respects that. Which means he’s decided that you’re his unofficial partner in surviving Vil’s tyranny.

“Hey, c’mon, you don’t need to be that scared of Vil,” Epel says one day, nudging your side as the two of you scrub cauldrons in the alchemy lab. “Sure, he’s scary, but if you just stand up to him once, he’ll back off… probably.”

You glance at Epel, eyes wide. “S-stand up to Vil?! Are you crazy?! I can’t do that! He’ll turn me into a newt or—o-or make me into some kind of fashionable accessory!”

Epel chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah, he ain’t that bad. You just gotta show him you’ve got guts. Or at least, like, fake it.”

You swallow hard, ears drooping. “F-faking it sounds risky… What if he notices?”

Epel grins, giving you a thumbs-up. “Then we run. Fast. Like the prey animals we are.”

You blink at him, half-horrified, half-impressed. “You… consider yourself a prey animal?”

Epel shrugs. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean, what else am I gonna do against Vil? Might as well embrace it. Besides, you’re good at dodgin’ people, right? We can make it work.”

You stare at him, processing his words, then sigh in resignation. “I guess we’re in this together then…”

Epel pats your shoulder with a grin. “That’s the spirit! We’re gonna make it through this, bunny style.”

You still have no idea what “bunny style” entails, but you’re willing to trust Epel’s wild plans—for now.

Idia Shroud:

Idia has never related to anyone more in his life. You anxiety is like looking into a jittery, trembling mirror, and for once, Idia is the calm one—relatively speaking.

“W-wait, you have to deliver a message to the Queen?!” Idia whispers, his hair sparking nervously. “That’s like, a total nightmare scenario.”

You nod rapidly, wringing your hands. “Y-yes, but I’m already late, and if I don’t get there soon, it’s off with my head!”

Idia shivers. “No way. I’d rather stay in my room for a thousand years.” He pauses, then adds, “But, um, if you don’t wanna go, maybe… I dunno… we could… not go together?”

You blink at him, your ears twitching at the idea of hiding away instead. “R-really? We can do that?”

He gives you an awkward thumbs-up, his face flushed. “Yeah… like, what’s the worst that could happen? Besides decapitation… but it’s not like anyone would expect me to be brave, right?”

You both glance at Ortho, who’s floating nearby and giving you the biggest, most judgmental sigh he can muster.

“You two need more courage,” Ortho says, shaking his head. “But I’ll help. Let’s make a plan!”

And just like that, your anxiety spirals back into full-on panic.

Ortho Shroud:

Ortho thinks you’re adorable, but he also realizes that you’re a magnet for trouble. So, naturally, he has to make sure you’re safe at all times.

“Good morning!” Ortho beams, floating beside you as you fumble with your basket of letters. “Where are you off to today?”

You twitch slightly, looking over your shoulder. “Oh, um, just delivering some messages… It’s a bit urgent…”

Ortho smiles, activating his sensors. “No problem! I’ll track your location and help with navigation!”

You blink, unsure if you should be relieved or more nervous. “T-track my location?”

Ortho nods cheerfully, a holographic map popping up. “Yup! We can’t have you getting lost in the rose maze again. Remember last time? You were stuck for hours!”

Your ears droop, embarrassed. “I-it’s not my fault everything looks the same…”

“Not to worry!” Ortho reassures. “I’ll make sure you’re in and out in no time! Plus, if you faint from fear, I can carry you.”

The thought of Ortho hauling you over his shoulder while Riddle scolds you is somehow even scarier than getting lost.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus has never met someone so jittery around him—and that’s saying something. He finds it… oddly endearing.

“Good evening, Child of Man,(Hare(?))” Malleus greets, his deep voice echoing through the hallway.

You jump about a foot in the air, your ears standing straight up. “L-Lord Malleus! I-I didn’t see you there!”

Malleus tilts his head, clearly confused. “I was standing right in the middle of the hall.”

You gulp, trying not to show your terror. “S-sorry! I just, um, wasn’t expecting—um—dragons are very quiet, apparently!”

Malleus raises an eyebrow, then smiles, showing just a hint of fang. “I assure you, I have no intention of frightening you.”

You nod rapidly, ears still trembling. “O-of course, Your Highness! I mean, who’s scared? Not me! Totally fine! Super relaxed!”

Malleus chuckles, and the sound is somehow both amused and terrifying. “You truly are quite… peculiar.”

You have no idea if that’s a compliment or an insult, but you nod like it’s the greatest praise in the world. “T-thank you, Lord Malleus.”

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia finds you endlessly amusing. He likes to see just how much he can tease you before you pass out from fright.

“Hello, little rabbit,” Lilia says, appearing out of *nowhere* like he always does.

You squeak, nearly dropping your stack of paperwork. “A-ah! L-Lilia! P-please don’t sneak up on me like that!”

He grins, fangs peeking out. “Oh, but it’s so much fun. You jump every time, like a startled bunny.”

You frown, puffing your cheeks out indignantly, but it only makes you look cuter. “I-I can’t help it! I’m just… easily startled.”

Lilia nods sagely, pretending to consider your words. “Perhaps I should warn you next time? Though that might take away all the fun…”

You gulp, trying to decide if he’s joking or not. “P-please do…”

He laughs, patting your head affectionately. “I make no promises, little one. Just stay on your toes!”

Silver:

Silver finds your constant panic a little concerning, but mostly, it makes him tired just watching you.

You find Silver leaning against a tree, dozing off like usual. “Um, Silver? A-aren’t you supposed to be training?”

Silver blinks awake, giving you a sleepy smile. “Oh, hello. Training? Right, yes, I was. I… took a short rest.”

You fidget, eyes darting around nervously. “W-well, um, I don’t want to interrupt… but could you help me? I think I lost the Queen’s letter again.”

Silver nods slowly, rubbing his eyes. “Of course. But first, you need to breathe. You’re more jittery than the dormouse.”

You force a shaky breath in, nodding. “R-right. Breathe. I can do that.”

Silver gives you a thumbs-up. “Good. Just stay calm. We’ll find it together.”

And then he promptly falls asleep again.

You stare at him, exasperated. “S-Silver?!”

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek is flabbergasted by your lack of composure. It drives him nuts—but also, he thinks you’re kind of adorable, like a helpless bunny.

“YOU!” Sebek bellows, making you flinch so hard you almost trip over yourself. “HOW CAN YOU BE THIS INCOMPETENT?!”

You cringe, clutching your ears. “I-I’m sorry! I’m trying my best, I swear!”

Sebek huffs, crossing his arms. “YOUR BEST IS BARELY ADEQUATE! YOU MUST STRIVE FOR PERFECTION, LIKE LORD MALLEUS!”

You gulp, nodding frantically. “R-right! I’ll… I’ll try harder!”

Sebek looks at your terrified face and sighs, his tone softening just a bit. “FINE, FINE. JUST DON’T MESS UP AGAIN. HERE.”

He hands you the paper you dropped, his ears turning slightly pink. “AND STOP LOOKING SO SCARED. IT’S… DISTRACTING.”

You blink at him, surprised. “D-distracting?”

“YES!” he shouts, clearly flustered. “NOW GO! LORD MALLEUS EXPECTS PERFECTION!”

You scurry away, leaving Sebek to mutter to himself, face flushed. “Such a weak little rabbit…”

Rollo Flamme:

Rollo tries so hard not to be charmed by you, really. He doesn’t like distractions, and you’re the most distracting bunny he’s ever met.

“Are you lost again?” Rollo asks with a sigh, watching as you nervously peek around a corner.

You jump, ears twitching. “O-oh, Rollo! I was just, um… trying to find the courtyard…”

Rollo pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’ve passed it three times already.”

You fumble with your hands, embarrassment turning your face pink. “I-I was just… making sure it was the right one…”

Rollo looks at your big, earnest eyes and sighs again, softer this time. “You’re hopeless,” he mutters. Then, reluctantly, he reaches for your hand, leading you back the way you came. “Come on. I can’t leave you wandering around all day.”

You follow behind him, ears drooping. “S-sorry…”

Rollo shakes his head, not even looking back. “Just try not to get lost again.”

You can’t help but smile a little. “I-I’ll try.”

Neige LeBlanche:

Neige thinks you’re the cutest thing ever. He’s the kind of person who immediately wants to be friends with you, especially because you look so nervous all the time.

“Hello!” Neige waves, beaming at you from across the way.

You blink, startled. “O-oh, um… hello, Neige…”

Neige practically skips over to you, his smile never faltering. “Are you okay? You look a little lost.”

You nod rapidly, trying not to be intimidated by his energy. “Y-yes, I’m fine! Just a little… um…”

“Aw, don’t worry!” Neige says, giving you an encouraging pat on the back. “You’ve got this! I believe in you!”

You stare at him, completely baffled. “You… you do?”

Neige nods earnestly. “Of course! And if you need any help, just let me know, okay? I’ll be your bunny buddy!”

Your ears twitch at the nickname, and you manage a shaky smile. “O-okay… Thank you, Neige.”

Dire Crowley:

Crowley finds your constant worrying both exhausting and oddly entertaining. He’s never seen anyone so concerned about breaking every single rule.

“Ah, You!” Crowley calls out, catching you just as you’re about to dash off with a stack of paperwork. “Do you have the reports I asked for?”

You freeze, turning to him with wide eyes. “R-reports? Oh no, I—I thought I delivered those to Professor Trein!”

Crowley sighs dramatically, putting a hand to his forehead. “Of course, of course. Why must I be surrounded by such incompetent students?”

You fidget, looking down at your feet. “I-I’m sorry, Headmaster… I’ll go get them right away—”

Crowley waves a hand dismissively. “No, no, I suppose it can wait. You do look like you’re about to pass out from all the running.”

Your ears droop, and you mumble, “I-I’m not… I’m just… very busy…”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, do try not to collapse before lunch, won’t you? I can’t have students fainting in my halls.”

You nod, scurrying away. Crowley watches you go, muttering to himself, “Honestly, there's no one more magnanimous than me…”

Divus Crewel:

Crewel is exasperated by your anxious behavior. He wants you to be confident, but instead, you’re always shaking in your boots.

“[Name], if you can’t handle a simple potion assignment, how do you expect to survive in this world?” Crewel says, his tone sharp as he points at your cauldron.

You gulp, ears twitching. “I-I’m sorry, Professor… I just, um, thought I might have put too much wormroot…”

Crewel raises an eyebrow. “Too much? Or not enough? Make up your mind, pup.”

Your eyes widen, and you flinch. “R-right! I-I mean, um, not enough—no, wait…”

Crewel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is hopeless.” Then, with a softer tone, he adds, “Focus. You can do this, but not if you keep second-guessing every move.”

You take a deep breath, nodding. “Y-yes, Professor.”

Crewel watches as you go back to your work, and though he doesn’t say it, there’s a hint of a smile on his face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.”

Mozus Trein:

Trein is generally strict, but even he can’t bring himself to be too harsh with you. Your anxious nature reminds him of some of his more timid students in the past.

“You’re late to class again,” Trein says, giving you a stern look.

You flinch, clutching your bag close. “I-I’m so sorry, Professor… I got lost in the halls again…”

Trein sighs, shaking his head. “You’ve been here long enough to know the way, haven’t you?”

You nod, ears drooping. “Y-yes, sir… I just… it’s the Queen’s court day, and I was trying to avoid… um…”

Trein raises an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly. “Avoid the Queen’s wrath, hm?” He nods, as if understanding completely. “Well, see that it doesn’t happen again. And try to relax. You won’t learn anything if you’re always in a state of panic.”

You bow deeply, almost knocking over your desk in the process. “Y-yes, Professor Trein! Thank you!”

Trein sighs as you scurry to your seat, muttering to himself, “Poor child… so much anxiety…”

Ashton Vargas:

Vargas can’t help but laugh at your feeble attempts at physical activity. You’re about as coordinated as a baby deer—and just as panicked.

“Alright, everyone! Time for a run around the track!” Vargas shouts, blowing his whistle.

You gulp, your ears already drooping at the thought of running. “U-um, Professor Vargas, I’m not sure I’m… physically… capable…”

Vargas claps you on the back, nearly sending you sprawling. “Nonsense! Every beastman’s got it in them! Even you, little bunny!”

You try to protest, but he’s already started the timer. You stumble forward, your legs shaky, and you can hear Vargas laughing from behind.

“Look at that! The rabbit is really running for their life!” Vargas calls out, and the whole class turns to watch you struggle around the track.

You feel your face burn, but you keep running, heart pounding. It’s either run or face Vargas’s motivational speeches again, and honestly, you’re not sure which is worse.

Sam:

Sam loves seeing you in his shop, mostly because you’re so jumpy it’s easy to sneak up on you—unintentionally, of course. He finds your reactions amusing.

“Hello, hello!” Sam calls out as you walk into his shop, and you jump about a foot in the air.

“Ah—M-Mister Sam! I-I didn’t see you there!” you stammer, clutching your chest like your heart might leap out.

Sam laughs, leaning over the counter. “You’re always so jittery, little bunny. Relax! I’ve got just the thing to calm those nerves…” He pulls out a small vial of something labeled “Relaxation Remedy.”

You eye the bottle suspiciously. “Um… t-that’s not… gonna put me to sleep, is it?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not unless you drink the whole bottle, friend.” He winks. “I’m just lookin’ out for ya, y’know?”

You nod, still unsure but grateful. “T-thank you… I’ll, um… take one, I guess…”

Sam smiles, putting the vial in a bag for you. “No problem, little imp. Come back if you need more!”

You nod, scurrying out of the shop. Sam watches you leave, shaking his head with a grin. “That one’s gonna give themselves a heart attack one day…”

Grim:

Grim likes to think he’s the bravest in the group, but even he can see you’re worse off than him in the bravery department. He likes to boss you around, mostly to feel better about himself.

“Oi, bunny!” Grim shouts, jumping onto your desk. “You got my homework done yet?”

You squeak, nearly toppling out of your chair. “Y-your homework?! Grim, I—I can’t keep doing your work for you…”

Grim pouts, waving a paw at you. “Oh, come on! You’re already nervous all the time—what’s a little extra stress, huh?”

You huff, fidgeting with your pen. “G-Grim, I’m already at my limit! I-I’ve got the Queen’s orders, and Riddle’s rules, and now you want me to—”

Grim interrupts, hopping closer and giving you a smug grin. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, you’re a busy bunny. But you know, if you help me, I’ll… uh, protect you from any monsters! Yeah, how about that?”

You blink, considering it. “P-protect me? From monsters?”

Grim nods, puffing out his chest. “Yup! I’m the Great Grim, after all! I’m basically a professional monster hunter.”

You stare at him, unsure, your ears slowly drooping. “I-I guess… that would be helpful…”

Grim smirks, satisfied. “See? I knew you’d come around!” He jumps off your desk, tail flicking with glee. “Alright, I’ll be back later to pick up my homework. Make sure it’s perfect, okay?”

You sigh, watching him strut away. “H-how did I even get myself into this…?”

Grim doesn’t hear you, already daydreaming about what snack he’ll demand from you next. “It’s good to be the boss,” he mutters, chuckling to himself.

You slump in your seat, wondering if there would ever come a day when you’re not running around doing everyone’s bidding. But then again, you think, maybe that’s just the fate of a White Rabbit…

Masterlist

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