merrybloomwrites · 2 days ago
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Been Here for Days
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Summary: You never thought about the dangers of dating a celebrity. But when you get taken by a man who's after Harry's money you're faced with the jarring reality that you're not as safe as you thought.
Word Count: 3.7K
CW: kidnapping, drugs, violence, attempted sa, hospitals
AN: I've read a few mafia AU stories where reader gets kidnapped because of Harry's dark world. So it gave me the idea for a non-AU story in which the reader gets kidnapped, simply for being the partner of a famous and wealthy popstar. I've had this partially written for a while but it seemed fitting to include in Whumptober so I finally finished it up.
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Dating Harry Styles came with a certain level of attention. This wasn’t a surprise to you, and you learned how to deal with it fairly quickly. Harry also did a lot to protect you and try to keep you out of the public eye as much as possible. 
Whenever he did get overprotective you’d remind him that it’s okay, you knew what you signed up for. But he always reiterated that his personal life should be private, and he didn’t want people trying to get more information about the two of you than he chooses to share.
One thing that’s obvious is that no one really cares about you. Not as an individual. They care that you’re Harry’s girlfriend. There’s not a doubt in your mind that if the two of you ever broke up, you’d never have photos posted of you again. 
And you’re fine with that too. It doesn’t bother you that you’re just seen as the girlfriend, mainly because it means people don’t care to go digging and finding facts about your life. Your family has been left alone for the most part, and you can still go out alone without being bothered.
Occasionally an individual will show deep interest in you, and you’ll find a social media account dedicated to you. Sometimes it’s a fan page, sometimes it’s a hate page. You let them be, since they’re still only posting things that are already released to the public. Even these ‘more enthusiastic’ people aren’t really crossing boundaries, since they’re not trying to find private photos or follow you to get photos of their own. 
Or so you thought.
Since spring began, and the weather turned nice, you’ve been making sure to walk to work each day. Ironically, you’d gotten a job in a local bakery. You wanted a steady job of your own while Harry isn’t touring, and this seemed like a perfect choice. You love getting up early to bake and decorate what’s needed for the day. It’s calm, and therapeutic. You mostly work in the back, doing the actual baking, but occasionally you fill in up front at the register. 
Each morning you walk to work as the sun is just rising, and you get home by early afternoon. This gives you time to run errands, do some chores around the house, or just take some time to relax before Harry gets home. He’s been working more in the studio recently, but still makes it a point to get back by 5PM in order to spend a couple of hours with you every day.
You cook a meal together, talk about your days, and often put on a movie and cuddle. It’s the simple things that bring the two of you joy, just getting to end your days together. 
You wake up on Monday morning, and it starts just like the rest. You get dressed, kiss the cheek of a still sleeping Harry, and begin your walk. You have an odd feeling, but you can’t quite pinpoint what it is. You were up a bit later than usual the night before, enjoying some adult activities with Harry, so maybe you’re just a bit tired.
The same feeling is there on the way home. But you’d had a tough day at work with someone calling out, leaving you to try and continue baking while also working the register. 
This feeling continues the whole week, and you continue to make excuses as to why you’re so anxious during your commute each day. But when the next week is the same, you begin to grow wary. Finally, on Thursday of the second week you realize that it feels as though you’re being followed. This thought does freak you out, and you plan to talk to Harry that night at home.
But you don’t make it home.
The weather on your walk back to the house is perfect, if not even a little warm. But you don’t feel it. You feel chilled, and nervous, and you’re glancing over your shoulder every two seconds. You’re mad at yourself, berating yourself for not calling Harry to have him pick you up. You’d convinced yourself it would be fine, and you didn’t want to bother him. But now as you walk alone, sensing another person might be following you, that logic seems incredibly stupid. 
As you’re pulling out your phone to call Harry you hear a noise in the bush next to you. Instinctively, you turn towards the sound. Everything happens so quickly, yet as though it’s in slow motion. A man rushes at you, covering your mouth so you can’t scream and using his other arm to keep you still. 
You try to fight back, but he’s bigger, stronger. Despite your best efforts, he still manages to get a needle into you. At first you feel the pinch of the needle, and then you feel nothing at all, and your world goes black. 
When you wake up, you’re disoriented. You’re in a bed, and while it’s comfy, it’s not your own. The bedroom you’re in is completely unrecognizable. Slowly, your memories come back. There was a man. Who’d probably been following you for weeks, tracking your schedule, and he’s now taken you. 
And not to some basement, or a warehouse or something creepy that you’d see in movies. No, he took you to his home. To a bed. And that feels even worse. You quickly assess your body, and are relieved to find that you’re still in your same clothes, and all you can feel are a couple minor scrapes and bruises, likely from trying to fight the man. 
There’s a window in the room so you get up and peek out. It’s dark, indicating a lot of time has passed. You can’t see anything outside, no other houses, and hope it’s just because of how dark it is. Because the idea that there’s nothing nearby is causing you to panic even more than you already are. 
You check the door, but of course it’s locked from the outside. The window won’t open either. You’re trapped. 
There is a bathroom attached to the bedroom, but no way to escape from there either. It does mean you can take a sip of water and splash some water on your face which helps calm you briefly. 
Taking deep breaths you begin to pace. Your mind spins, trying to come up with escape scenarios, and hoping that someone is figuring out where you are so they can come get you. The sky turns pink outside and you check your surroundings again. 
There’s nothing but a large open field. No biggie. Maybe there’s civilization out the front of the house. There’s no way you’re locked in a house with a crazy person out in the middle of nowhere. 
Tears spring to your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. There’s got to be a way out of here. A way back home. A way to Harry. 
You’re left alone for what feels like hours. You’re a little hungry, but that’s the least of your concerns at the moment. 
Finally, the door opens. You stand your ground in the middle of the room, not wanting to back yourself into a corner for whatever is about to happen. 
Taking a deep breath, you stand up straight, not showing any weakness to the person who took you. 
“Well good morning sweetheart,” he says. The pleasantries, the nickname, it’s all nauseating to you, but you keep your expression unreadable. 
“My name is Roy. I’ve been watching you and your boyfriend. You make a very cute little couple.”
“What do you want with me?” You ask, ignoring how violated you feel at the confirmation that this strange man has been following you. 
“Isn’t it obvious? Money. I want money. Harry seems to be quite devoted to you. I bet he’ll pay anything to get you back.” 
And it is obvious, really. It shouldn’t come as a surprise at all that people would want Harry’s money. But you never expected anyone to literally kidnap you for it. 
“Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure you have food and water and a safe place to stay. Might rough you up a bit, maybe have some fun,” he says as he steps forward and runs a finger along your cheek, causing you to recoil and bump into the bed behind you. 
He laughs at that, seeming to enjoy your discomfort, and then adds, “Of course that may be some good incentive for your boyfriend. I’m sure he’d hate to see anything bad happen to you.”
Your fear amps up a notch hearing this but you keep your emotions off of your face. You’re determined to stay strong throughout this whole ordeal. This man does not get to overpower you, doesn’t get to see you break like you’re sure he wants. 
He steps back a moment later and says, “Just need a quick picture, you know proof of life, proof I have you, all that.” Before you can register what he’s saying he takes out an old camera and takes your picture, the flash stunning you. 
“I brought you a sandwich and some water. It’s all sealed so you know I haven’t done anything to it. Wouldn’t want you starving yourself or dehydrating,” he says as he hands you the items. You take them, confirming they are in fact unopened. 
“Eat. I’ll be back later,” he says before stepping out of the room. You hear the definitive click of the lock but you still double check, just in case it’s open. 
Of course it isn’t, but you had to try. After examining the food to confirm it hasn’t been tampered with you take a tentative bite. It’s good, and that first bite kick starts your appetite so you quickly eat the rest. 
Roy comes back hours later to drop off dinner. He again leaves you alone to eat, and you’re starting to get lulled into a false sense of security. You think that maybe it won’t be so bad. If he’s just after money, then he might just leave you alone and then he’ll get paid and you’ll be home. 
But of course it can’t be that simple. 
Later that evening he comes back in.
“I’m bored,” he says. Just two words shouldn’t be so bone chilling, but you understand the implication. He’s bored and you’re at his mercy. He’s already drugged and kidnapped you. There’s not telling what else he’s capable of. 
By the time he leaves again you're bruised, and there’s blood running from your split lip. He’d thrown you around, hit you hard enough to send you to the ground where he kicked you repeatedly. It was terrifying and painful. 
But you admit to yourself that it could’ve been worse. You somehow convince yourself that it wasn’t so bad, that you’ll recover quickly once you get home.
After another day and a half with Roy, you’re doubting that will happen. You’re doubting you’ll recover. You’re doubting that you’ll get home. The situation has turned from terrible to terrifying. 
You’ve spent three nights in this room, including the one you were mostly unconscious for. Roy’s violence has grown, and now he seems to be changing plans again. 
“These bruises look lovely on you,” he says. It’s creepy as fuck, and indicates that whatever happens next will be awful. 
“While the violence has been fun, there are other ways to bruise your skin. I think I’ll do that today instead.”
After days of beatings you’re too tired to fight back. You lay there crying as he climbs on top of you and pins you down. His mouth goes to your neck and he begins to suck a mark there. Bile rises in your throat and it takes everything in you not to vomit at the feeling of him so close to you, touching you in this way. 
You’re wondering how you’re going to survive what’s sure to come next when there’s a noise. Suddenly the door slams open and nearly a dozen people enter the room. At first you’re terrified that they’re here to hurt you as well, but then Roy is pulled off of you and handcuffed and you realize that they’re police officers there to save you. 
One comes and talks to you, reassures you that everything is going to be okay, but still, you’re scared. It’s too much. Too much noise, and commotion, and people. You’re overwhelmed.
And then one more person enters the room. He looks different, more frazzled with a longer beard than you’ve ever seen. But as he crouches beside the bed and holds your hand between his, there’s no denying that Harry is here. 
There’s a darkness that’s been pulling at you for a while, and now that Harry’s here and you’re safe, you finally let it pull you under. 
You wake up in an uncomfortable bed wearing an itchy gown. There are bandages wrapped on various parts of your body and tubes and wires attached to you. Everything is still hazy, but you know there’s a hand holding yours. 
You quickly and clumsily pull away, not wanting anyone to touch you right now. 
Slowly the world around you refocuses, and you realize the person next to you is Harry. As much as you want his comfort, you can’t bear to have anyone’s skin touching yours. Not when it only makes you think of Roy and what he did. And what he was planning to do. 
Over the next few hours people come and go from your room. Nurses, doctors, detectives, all sharing information and asking you questions. 
But you say nothing. You don’t respond. You lay there, watching with a blank expression. Someone brings in food for dinner, and you eat just enough to make them happy before pushing away the tray and curling further into your blankets. 
The next day is much the same. They bring in a trauma counselor and though she’s a kind woman, you still say nothing. 
And it’s not that you’re upset with, or mad at these people. They’ve done nothing to you. But there’s this block in your mind right now. You’re so exhausted from the whole ordeal that it’s taking everything in you just to eat food and drink water and get yourself to and from the bathroom. 
Another two days pass and your doctor is in the room talking to Harry. He tried speaking to you but still you’re unable to find your voice. 
“Medically, she’s well enough to go home,” the doctor says. “Her injuries are healing well enough that I’m ready to discharge her.” 
You perk up a bit at this news. You miss home, miss the big comfy bed with the big windows. You miss your garden, and how peaceful it is. Hearing that you might be able to go back to your house with Harry has you more alert than you’ve been in days.
But then the doctor adds, “However, I’m concerned by her mental state. She still hasn’t said anything, and she barely lets anyone touch her. It’s important that her bandages get changed regularly and I’m worried that she won’t allow you to help with that. So until that changes she’ll have to stay here.”
Your heart drops at that. The despair you feel has you finally breaking through and suddenly you say, “No. Home.”
They both look at you and Harry quickly moves to the side of your bed. 
“What was that, baby?” he asks. He looks hopeful and you know that he’s just happy to hear you speak again.
“Home. Please,” you state. It’s hard to talk, full sentences being something you can’t do yet. But you get your point across and Harry looks at the doctor to see what he has to say about this advancement. 
Your doctor comes closer as well and asks, “Will you be okay with Harry helping you at home? He’ll have to touch you to properly clean and bandage your wounds.”
You nod, but you know that alone won’t convince them. Even though it takes a lot of courage to do this, you reach out your hand and grab Harry’s. He gasps at the contact and quickly laces your fingers with his. It feels foreign, and you hate that you no longer feel comfortable holding hands with the person who used to be your safe place. 
Apparently that was the right move, though, because you’re discharged by the end of the day. You get wheeled out, and Harry helps you get from the chair into the car that’s there for you. There’s still an overwhelming part of you that wants to flinch away from his touch, but you tell yourself that he needs this. He needs to be able to help you. 
On the drive, Harry informs you of the updated security the two of you will have. It’s weird to know that there will be people watching the house at all times, but you admit to yourself that it makes you feel better. 
Once you’re finally home you breathe a sigh of relief. And then you get to your room and the exhaustion hits again. 
You sit down on the bed and Harry moves through the house, doing all kinds of things that he thinks will help you. His nervousness is obvious, and you want to tell him you’re okay, that he should relax.
When he focuses on you again he asks, “What can I get for you? What do you need?”
“Bed.” 
“You’re tired? You want to get ready for bed?”
“Yes.” 
“Okay, we can do that. Let me get you some clothes and then we can go brush our teeth together. And I’ll bring up some water and maybe some food in case you wake up hungry since you didn’t eat too much dinner before we left the hospital,” he rambles. It seems that he’s trying to make up for your lack of words by speaking more than usual. 
Harry grabs the clothes and walks over to you. It’s clear that he’s about to help you up and so you quickly stand and walk to the bathroom before he has the chance to touch you. You hate seeing the pain in his eyes at your rejection, but you’re just not ready yet. 
After getting ready you climb into bed. It’s so soft, so comfortable, and so familiar that you quickly fall asleep. 
You wake up with a jolt, your heart racing as the images of your dream race through your mind. The worst part is that it’s not just a made up nightmare, but the memories of the nightmare you actually lived. 
“What’s wrong?” Harry asks and he reaches out a hand to comfort you. He quickly pulls it back when he sees the way you eye it with fear and trepidation. 
“I can go,” he says. “If you’re uncomfortable with me in the bed I can stay in the next room.”
Immediately you panic at the thought of him going anywhere. “No. Stay. Please. Just, don’t touch,” you reply.
He nods and the two of you sit there in bed next to each other. You begin to cry and Harry fights back tears of his own. 
After a few minutes Harry says, “They wouldn’t let me pay the ransom.”
You turn to him, confused for a moment. And then you realize that he’s explaining why it took so long to get you out. 
“When I got the message from…him. I showed it to the detectives who were here and told them I’d pay immediately so I could get you back. But they wouldn’t let me. Said it would set a precedent and put you in even more danger. Make you a target. That if I listened to this crazy person’s demands and gave him what he wanted, more people might try to take you to get money as well. I hated knowing that they were right. That I couldn’t do the one thing in my power to help you without making life riskier for you. And I hated that you being with me put you in that position in the first place. Y/N, I am so sorry that this happened to you, that it happened because of me.” 
His voice breaks and you sit for another moment absorbing what he’d just said. You didn’t realize before, but now you know that you were mad at him. You were mad that it took so long for them to get you. But everything he said makes sense to you.
And as horrible as the experience was for you, it was awful for him as well. He looks just as exhausted as you are, and though he didn’t deal with the pain and terror that you did, he spent days filled with anxiety and fear and guilt. 
You lay down on your back, looking up and trying to silently send him a message. Once he understands he lays down as well. Slowly, one inch at a time, you shift closer to him. Finally, you turn and lay your hand on his chest. He brings up his hand and places it gently on top of yours.
The touch no longer feels foreign to you. It finally feels comforting again. Building up courage, you move again, lifting your head until you can place it on his chest. This time he doesn’t hesitate, but quickly wraps his free arm around your shoulders, holding you close to him.
For a moment you panic, feeling trapped by him. But then you take a deep breath, inhaling Harry’s distinct smell, and you relax into his hold. 
“I forgive you,” you say quietly. Harry lets out a sob and you squeeze his hand reassuringly. After a moment he controls his tears and regulates his breathing. 
“I love you. So much,” he says.
“I love you too,” you reply.
You know that this isn’t the end. There’s a long road of recovery ahead of you. But being able to lean on Harry, to trust him fully again, you know that you’re going to be okay. He’s going to be there, he’ll help you on the bad days and celebrate the good. 
He begins to quietly sing, filling the room with his familiar and comforting voice. He lulls you back to sleep, but stays up for a while just watching you, reveling in the feeling of having you back in his arms, home where you belong. Safe and sound once again.
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AN: Thank you for reading!
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calebwittebane · 2 days ago
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i had a dream id gotten conned into becoming a god and proceeded to try and design a world without suffering or pain. i really really struggled with this one. no matter what i did, it seemed like bouncing between endless suffering and highly sheltered sensory deprivation state with all functions for every person reduced to a minimum. eventually the author--it turned out i was in a fictional work, and the author was a sneering cynical asshole who enjoyed seeing me suffer--started mocking me, saying that a real demiurge really in control of things through unlimited possibilities wouldve figured that out, but i'm just a loser who spent a long time being human and therefore my mind has very human limitations. i started arguing with the author, saying that theyd written me this way and have no right to mock me, that despite this attitude they have this clearly is some form of venting theyre doing through art, and they need to take something seriously for once. my limitations are simply a reflection of theirs, and their mockery is their pained wailing in disguise. they were like well i dont like your attitude so because youve decided to be a little bitch about it i will now punish you by making you experience every death that ever happened to anyone and WILL have happened to anyone. so i did. it was awful. the prophetic visions of what sort of carnage famine disease and freak accidents the future has in store for humanity, they were almost as bad as the historical part. reminder: i feel pain in my dreams. anyway once that was done, and it did in fact feel to me like actual centuries were passing, actual centuries of nothing but agony, i told the author they were a vindictive bitch, incapable of comprehending the suffering theyre inflicting. if they ever felt even a fraction of what they dish out without much thought, they would curl up and cry and never do anything again. they told me i just objected to the way i'd sculpted my own consciousness. that to be a human, advanced and philosophy oriented as we are with our proportionally large complex brains, is to reject all inevitability as barbaric. i said that was stupid--humans are still, despite our unique traits, simply part of the animal kingdom, and more broadly made of the same matter as the rest of the universe, a continuous lattice of reactions among many other, a sustained chain that hasn't stopped since the very first instance of reproduction occurred between two organisms. the author just favors the human perspective because theyre biased and write what they know.
then the author felt like doing something petty once more so they decided to put me in a situation where im trying to buy art supplies but my dad is also there undermining everything i say. i said: this wont get to me--author, it seems you dont know me all that well, for buying art supplies was indeed one of the only type of occasion where my dad Would just let me do what i needed to do and would more or less trust i knew what i was doing. the author laughed and said, and yet you were able to summon a version of events where he does act poorly in this context. how cruel and unfair of you, to imagine something so uncharitable. how can you be sure of anything you remember? and i was going to give a reply but things around me started glitching out. people got spaghettified and turned into like. ok imagine a coral reef but its people.
i think i mustve argued with the author about some technical accuracy in their depictions of trains? i got to experience some train crashes as punishment
so yeah im awake now and i dont feel like ive gotten a lot of rest considering i just escaped time prison
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my-castles-crumbling · 22 hours ago
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Hi! I'm new-ish to the jegulus/rosekiller ships and gonna be honest I'm really struggling to romanticize and ship characters that were/are death eaters, so I want to hear you takes on it and how you think it should be approached. Love the mini fics, they make up about 90% of my feed lol and I'd love to learn your approach! Thank!
Hi!
Well first I just want to say that you for like respectfully asking because so many people are so rude about it honestly.
Second, I think it's also important to say that you don't have to ship someone or force yourself to like anything! If you don't like a ship or can't understand it, it's totally okay to not read it!
I guess for me, it's many things:
I think this fandom has morphed into it's own entity outside of canon. I think that's both because that happens with most fandoms and also because of JKR and everything she's done. So now it's kind of at the point where canon Regulus exists somewhere, but not here, not to me. Same with Barty and Evan. I've created my own version of them, and I don't think James would ever be with a Death Eater. But he would be with my version of Regulus (and the version a lot of other people write). I skip over those fanfics where he is, and that's the best part about fandom- if you don't like it, you don't have to read it. But fandom is used to reimagine canon, so it doesn't have to be canon. You can reinvent anything you want.
I think it's important to recognize that we actually know very little canon info about these characters. The only character we spend a lot of time with in canon is Barty. Evan is mentioned once and Regulus is only mentioned a few times. So we simply don't know a lot about them. Yes, they are canonically Death Eaters, but we also know that canonically, Regulus was a defender of house elves and left the Death Eaters to try to destroy Horcruxes. We also know that Barty was very unloved by his father and joined the Death Eaters very young. These are flawed characters, not inherently evil characters.
People often use fanfic to explore characters- their flaws, motivations, backgrounds, and more. I think most depictions of these characters don't show them as perfect. They explore those flaws.
The fics that I read and write feature a Regulus, Barty, and Evan who either are in an alternate universe and are not Death Eaters, or a version of these characters that does not want to be a Death Eater. Other people might read different things and I respect that, but in my headcanons, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are NOT blood supremacists. I know they are in canon, but I don't like reading canon- that's why I read fanfic!
I think there's something to be argued about the fact that a lot of people accept Drarry as a morally acceptable ship, even thought Draco was a Death Eater. And I think the reason why is because we get Draco's redeemable qualities. We haven't gotten them from Regulus, Barty, and Evan but the people who ship them imagine that those qualities exist.
I think it's important to acknowledge though that all of this does not excuse the canon ideals of Death Eaters. It also doesn't mean everyone should ship these ships. Some people can't, because of their canon origins, and that's completely okay and valid! The thing that's not okay is sending hate to people about who they ship, and that's what tends to happen in this fandom, especially with the jegulus v jily debate.
Let me know if you have questions!
Also a reminder that any hate in the comments/reblogs/my inbox will be deleted!
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lilac-den · 2 days ago
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Oooohhh, I like how accurate it is for the ROs to act exactly that way, Maverick’s trying not to think dishonored of MC, Rydigan smoothly changing the conversation, Ittania just so excited to know someone new and unconsciously direct others' interests, Enid being wary of the fact the scars seems like battle scars... They're all fit to the ROs character, can't wait to see them in the near future chapter 2. Now, what would the ROs reaction be if someone really try to disregard MC due to the scars? In fact... Can we get a snippet with all 4 of them include? (P.S.: I can absolutely imagine Sylphina holding a gun towards the said offenders and proclaim to ask: Who are you to deem my dearest cousin ugly!? Get out you creak, I promise I won't shot you! (Ittania would be clapping by sides lol
Honestly, I kinda want to add such a scene into the game. While MC is probably used to the scars and isn't ashamed of it, I can imagine them feeling more shameful of the fact they're letting the ROs hang out with them. After all, they have such a good reputation - why would they ever mingle with someone with hideous rumours? Which led to the scenario of:
Maverick: He would be quick to guard MC, asking strictly of what the offender dared say. "Regardless of the circumstances with their scars, [offender's name and title], offending a cousin of a Countess and a companion of the Princess is unbecoming of any noble. Am I to understand that not only are you offending the Princess's companion, but the Princess herself for choosing someone, as you said, 'so hideously disfigured'? Or you mean to insult Countess Sylphina's beloved and only relative, who you describe to be 'an uncouth, uncultured, misshapen Neanderthal' despite never having met even once before?"
Which leads to the offender stammering and stumbling out an apology and thus led to Maverick getting annoyed and remind the person of their station before letting them off with a warning.
Rydigan: "Hey now, what's all this about?" Rydigan would slide right into the conversation. "I'm terribly sorry for interrupting, but I could have sworn my ears were burning from the sounds of grisly comments."
"Oh, do not worry, Sir Rydigan. I was simply stating some facts with [Title] [Name] is all."
Rydigan's eyes sharpen and so did his smile, the tips of his fang-like teeth almost peeking out. "Facts, you say? Like what?"
"Oh!" The offender exclaims with excitement and starts. "Like how it must have been dreadful for them to receive such a horrendous scar from the fire, to live and walk about with it all day long."
"The fire?" Rydigan asks and tilts his head slightly, both curious and careful. "You mean the one that cost them their parents? The one where Countess Sylphina, who trades with your town the necessary food to survive the winter, lost her aunt and uncle before saving her precious cousin and only family?"
Sweat begins to bead upon the offender's forehead. "Uhm-"
"And you speak of living and walking about with the scar like it's a horrible thing." Rydigan releases [Name] from his hold but doesn't move away from them. "And yet, it is a proof of survival. Much like the scars our soldiers and knights obtained from fighting our battles as we lead them." A gleam comes onto Rydigan's eyes. "Unless you're saying...people who are scarred should perish and never see the light of day?"
The offender snaps. "Now don't you twist my words-"
"How am I twisting your words?" Rydigan blinks, surprised by such a reaction. But [Name] knows it's simply an innocent play. "Remember, you said so yourself." Rydigan clears his throat and impersonates the offender, word for word with clear pronunciation and tone. "It must have been dreadful to receive such a horrendous scar, to live and walk about it all day long." Rydigan spreads out a hand to the offender, presenting the figure to all watching this spectacle. "In fact, I believe our king and even the rulers before him bear scars from protecting our kingdom. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you think the royal family should perish too just for being scarred." He points at the offender casually. "Am I wrong?"
The flustered expression and tense silence surrounding the offender is enough for a smile to bloom upon Rydigan's face.
Ittania: "Hey!" Ittania walks on over immediately, startling the offender and [Name] with her booming voice. Before the offender could make out a comment or greeting, Ittania cuts to the chase. "What did I just hear you say?"
"Lady Ittania," the offender swallows nervously, places a hand upon their chest and then bow their head respectfully, "forgive me, I did not mean to sully your ears-"
"That's not what I asked." Ittania frowns. "I'm asking what did I just hear you say. You could tell me if you managed to tell [Title] [Name], right?"
"Uhm..." The offender glances at [Name] and, feeling that sense of protectiveness, Ittania moves to block their sight from [Name].
"Well?" Ittania crosses her arms against her chest, imposing an intimidating stance. The offender swallows again, sweat running down from their brow.
"I-I simply...simply made a comment about their appearance."
"And that comment happens to be?" The offender opens their mouth but no words escape. Irritated, Ittania emphasizes further. "Well? We're waiting." She growls out, like a warning.
At this point, the offender knew they're stuck in a hole. "I...said the Wan...Wanderer..."
"The Wanderer what?"
"...The Wanderer must be ashamed to think their scars are worth anything."
A heavy silence covers the room, like a heavy blanket committed to suffocating the party. It's so deathly silent that a pin drop might equate to the ring of a gong.
But what's palpable is the fury in Ittania's eyes, one of her hands gripping her crossed arm so hard that no doubt her muscles are probably bulging underneath her formal wear.
"So you're telling me," she starts, tense, "that you saw the Wanderer, who you never met before and is new to the capital, walked up to them and insulted them right off the bat?"
The offender nods.
Ittania steps to the side and gestures to [Name]. "Them. The person who saved Princess Bellarosa?"
Another, albeit very nervous, nod.
"...Are you a fucking idiot?!"
It took Maverick, Rydigan and [Name] to hold Ittania back and prevent her from spewing profanities befitting a sailor.
Enid: She heard it all, clear as day and just as loud as she would hear from standing right in front of the offender. It doesn't bother her nor does it matter to her. After all, people insult one another all the time - mostly behind their back. This is pretty much an introduction to nobility for the Wanderer. It's not such a big deal.
But boy, does the haughtiness in the offender's voice irritate her immensely.
As Enid sips upon her third glass of red wine, glaring at the sight of the offender laughing and mocking [Name] about the scars, she finds herself more and more annoyed by the niggling sensation inside her.
Then the offender sneered, reaching out-
"Hey!"
And just as sudden, the offender found their outfit stained with the colour of red wine.
"Oh my," Enid covers her mouth with her gloved hand, her other holding the wine glass dripping with the crimson liquid, "I'm very sorry about that, [Noble's title]."
"I'll say!" The offender exclaims, horrified by the new flaw upon their pricey outfit. "You ruined my outfit!"
"And I do so apologize for that." Enid lowers the hand on her mouth and smiles - a smile that doesn't reach her green orbs. "I just get so clumsy when I drank one too many drinks. After all, you never know how badly things could get from being intoxicated." She tries all her might to avoid glancing over at [Name]. The curiosity of their reaction is none of her concern. None at all. "Like spilling a drink...or offending the scarred noble who saved the Princess of our kingdom."
At the harsh implications in her tone, the offender stares at her, confused for a moment. But Enid has since dropped her smile and settles her wine glass upon the tray of a passing servant, letting said servant walk away with the empty glass before continuing.
"I suppose I wasn't clear enough." She turns her eyes back to the offender, gaze unwavering and face leaving little to tell. "Be grateful I stopped you with red wine before someone imprison you in grime for insulting the chosen companion of the Princess. Unless your goal was to highlight your outfit in red blood, that shade might just work."
"Lady Enid-"
Enid holds a hand up. "Do not try to guile your way out. Just walk away, stuff your mouth with food and save your breath. You've offended more than enough people as is."
"But Lady Enid, this is-!"
"If you believe this is preposterous," Enid glares, "shall I bring in Countess Sylphina to inform her of your needling towards her cousin? Or would you rather I inform the king that his daughter's companion is disregarded by his own subject just because of how they looked?"
The offender's tongue retracts deep in their mouth at that moment. Taking Enid's 'advice' to heart, they bow their head and barely mumble out something (an apology? A farewell? Something in between, from what Enid can make out) before turning and running for, as Enid mentioned, the food.
Enid finally decides to glance over to [Name]...and immediately her face displays a frustration at the satisfied feeling inside her upon seeing the shocked expression on their face.
"What?" She snaps at them in an instant. "They were getting annoying."
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egginfroggin · 10 months ago
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Lian and Emmet relationship (wtst).
They're fools, your honor.
Joking aside, I haven't thought too hard about it. Lian is pretty young, so Emmet would probably feel a level of protectiveness just due to how young the kid is. Maybe a little bit baffled at the fact that the Pearl Clan appointed such a young kid to be Warden to such a distant Noble, as Lian is quite, quite far from his home and family.
(Similarly, Emmet just gives Adaman the most disconcerting stare after meeting the tot that is Sabi. Like, bro, why, she is in what is arguably the most merciless part of Hisui and she's even younger than Lian.)
I do think they would get along, and could be considered friends, even though they might not interact too much, what with Lian being mostly in the Heartwood and surrounding forests while Emmet is off literally everywhere else in Hisui doing things for the Pokedex.
I do think that Emmet would enjoy listening to Lian ramble about Kleavor and all the various stones he's studied and found, though -- the kid's cute, oddly familiar, and listening to someone else talk passionately and at length puts Emmet at ease, for some reason.
Lian, similarly, likes having someone to talk to, and although Emmet doesn't say much, he is a very good listener. He's brought the boy stones before, when he's passing through -- ones from the other parts of Hisui, where Lian doesn't get the chance to rock-hunt very much, and rare elemental stones used for evolving Pokemon.
Yeah, I think they're friends. They deserve to be friends.
(There's an odd familiarity about Lian. Something about the hat and the hair, and the overall rather gruff and tough demeanor -- even though Lian is a bit too small to be a properly imposing figure, and he can get riled up easily. He is, after all, still a child)
(Fossils, Emmet thinks one day, entirely out of the blue -- the boy would probably be fascinated by fossil Pokemon)
(And there's a particular Pokemon he thinks would be helpful to Lian and his mining escapades. Small and short-furred, with big claws. It's familiar, and he thinks it gets much bigger when it evolves; regardless of what stage of life it's in, though, it is entirely capable of tunneling through earth and stone alike)
Thank you very much for the ask, Anon! I hope this answers your question, and that you have a very good day.
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mercymaker · 4 months ago
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with the pride month slowly approaching its end, i'd really love to see less casual misogyny and biphobia just thrown around in queer spaces
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rilinda · 7 months ago
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I didnt know the tags woulr be so much i shouldve just wrote a long vent 😭😭😭 rip
#lol. there are still times where my brain goes omg what if you’re really a narc#and then i go out of my way to make sure my friends are as comfortable as possible and thati meet all their needs and i apologize every few#minutes for something silly or for maybe hurting them unintentionally and then i remember of#every fallout w people in my life where i was always taking responsibility for my actions n for my role to what led to the fallouts no#matter how toxic the person was and i remember all the times i geniunely apologized to my siblings for my mistakes (without them pointing#out i did smth wrong) and i remember all the tomes someone told me i hurt them and i owned up to it and apologized and then i go#oh ywa. maybe not ?#bonus: all the times i helped someone out in secret to bring some ease in their life without ever telling them or bragging eith it or#using it against them or reminding them that i did x y z for them#and then all the times where my guilt ate me up at nights and i cried and the times where i brought out the best of people because my love#is Nuturing. yea#AND I GUESS THE FACT THAT MY EX BEST FRIEND TOLD ME IM A NARC AND I STRAIGHT UP WENT OMG YEA! PROBABLY! BECAUSE I WOULDVE BELIEVED HER#ANYTHING 😭😭😭😭 BECAUSE INWAS SO SURE SHE KNEW ME BETTER THAN I KNEW MYSELF! 😭😭😭#BECAUSE I HAD LOST MYSELF COMPLETELY IN THE FRIENDSHIP 😭😭😭😭 NOT VERY NARC OF ME 😭😭😭😭😭😭#but yea. i guess abandonment issues apathy and lack of communication skills (which leads to passive aggressivness) will make you look like a#narc i get where she came from! but still. if i ever see someone diagnose other people i will simply tell them to shut up#especially based on sentences taken out of context. not very sexy#and also very stupid.#rationally seen i shouldve kicked out the thought that im probably not one when my therapist told me theres no chance i am but. when you get#treated like a freaking mondter from the people you’ve trusted deeply. it does something to you >.>#also when my therapist said that she has No rights to make Any diagnosis or statements about other people because whatever i tell her its#going to tell her more about me than them. i shouldve just dtopped believing it honestly. like freaking sideeye to those therapists thst#told my ex friends im a narc. and a big fat kiss to my therapist for being such a beautiful empathstic underztanding patient beautiful and#kind person#alhamdulillah ^-^#kicked out the thought thst i am one *#and also a big fat sorry for being hsving no empathy. my communication skills are getting brtter and im working on my abandonment issues#(sfter being abandoned by my closest friends and family hello this is so sexy of me) and im soooo much more st peace w myself n i like and#care aboyt myself ^-^ even just writing a list of positive things ahout me is smth i wouldve never done two years ago#(also my family took me back alhamdulillah eheh)
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nullwort · 6 months ago
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Still not used to having friends.
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bittersweetresilience · 7 months ago
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i've been thinking about beyond ascension again, since i've been rereading. like most of the other things i posted more than a year ago, thinking about it is incredibly embarrassing. but objectively i know i'm happy with it. posting things just has a way of making them seem cringe. anyway i still find it funny that i watched this terrible show, became irremediably gripped by these terrible villains, wrote this entire thing, and completely totally forgot temutai existed. sorry. that guy can just stay unredeemed.
#tong fo being a bartender is also#a set in stone headcanon of mine#the kind with no canon reference but that you simply know by divine vision to be true#and it was really important to me that at the end of the story he leave the valley of peace and not return#because that is not po's responsibility#and po deserves a space to heal and not have to be reminded anymore of these things#i have a lot of thoughts about this fic it's one of the longest things i've ever written in one go#which isn't much compared to other authors but for me it was a big thing#and i think it's cute how similar some of it ended up being to the fourth movie#which is probably a reason why i liked it so much i was like#yes yes yes yes this is it for me#OH making this post just reminded me of ANOTHER extremely dark fic i wrote about a cartoon panda#this one unpublished but one of my favorite things i'd ever written#braces episode from we bare bears you will forever be famous and hysterically inspiring to me#the thought of other people seeing this makes me cringe horribly but i'm trying to build immunity#fun fact for the fun fact lovers my whole ao3 account was me trying to build immunity#that's why the first few fics were once a year evenly i was doing my best to rid myself of shame and it NEVER worked i was literally#equally as embarrassed and terrified for months afterward every single time#but we stay silly and continue gently pushing our boundaries for self growth opportunities#now i think i just write certain things with posting in mind which makes it easier than feeling like i'm exposing things#that weren't supposed to be seen#that's all thank you for listening to random thoughts from sunny at four in the morning#🌃#i would give this the fandom tag but i don't want random people to witness me
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amplexadversary · 1 year ago
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#dot post#ignore morg#finished game 1 of AI: the Somnium Files this morning#sadly I don't think anything will ever live up to 999 but AIS had some good moments#time puzzles are anathema to me though so if I experience the sequel I'll have to find a video with the right audio and no commentary#I totally called the twist as soon as the egg yolk metaphor came onscreen. though I was in fact pleased to be correct#Also caught the musical reference to a song from Ace Attorney in Iris's instrumental theme#about 47s into it a few notes of the ''lively people'' theme from the original ace attorney play#I will say I didn't like most of the cast. Mizuki is probably my favorite character#followed by boss. I don't know how I feel about Date because it almost feels like his personality changes after hitting a certain point#and up until that point he reminded me of my actual dad (a positive comparison)#the gameplay was by far the weakest element (which was disappointing)#story was okay but didn't tie into the mechanics the way ZE did and that weakened it for me#that and some of dumbass moves Date pulls (you can't fucking wait for CSI to arrive dude?)#I like Uchikoshi's writing but the elements of this game simply did not mesh together in the way ZE did#it definitely felt closer in over all quality to ZTD than to VLR or 999 unfortunately#can't tell how much of that is the translator but some of the problem is in the pacing and that definitely isn't the translation's doing.#it DID tie up its loose ends though so that is a good thing AIS and ZTD have over 999 and VLR
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dollaches · 3 months ago
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— she lying to me, im lying to her
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♡ fwb!mean! ellie williams x fem! reader
synopsis: after you sleep with one of ellie’s worst enemies, she reminds you who you belong to
a/n: toxic ellie u will always be famous
warnings: DON’T LIKE DON’T READ ! — toxic relationships, friends with benefits, useless lesbians, cursing, rough kissing, hate sex, scissoring (YIPPEE), fingering (r! receiving), a little bit of her eating u out, cum play (?), cunt slaps, threats of her belt being used lol, degrading, pet names, hoe ellie williams, abby anderson mentioned, lots of spit as usual, manhandling, overall aggressive lol
wc: 4k
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This game was almost too easy to play, as it had been ongoing for nearly a year. 
You and Ellie would fuck, she’d ignore you for a month, and then make some excuse to come and see you. She’d act as if nothing had happened, as if you had no idea that she was fucking other girls even though she purposely made out with people in front of you at parties. 
But you weren’t one to let her have all the fun, as you were finally fed up with her just using you like you’re any other girl that is dumb enough to believe that Ellie truly cares about them. 
So, you made the choice to see other people but unlike Ellie, your revenge on her was silent. You let her hear through rumors about who you were sleeping with but never truly appeared at any events she was at so she could have proof of it. 
You were driving her insane without ever having to see her, as now she would immediately scan any room she was in for your presence, hoping for the smallest glimpse of you. The absence of your presence was punishment enough for her and she refused to back down, pretending as if her jealousy was warranted in some way. 
Her calls and texts went unanswered, her frustration only building with each passing day that she was denied the ability to see you. All the while you couldn’t help but silently hope that she was at least slightly upset and finally getting a taste of her own medicine. 
Unfortunately for you, Ellie is not one to let things run on for too long before she starts speaking her mind. 
After two months of radio silence from you, she is standing outside your apartment door, her lips set in a firm line. You were simply settled on the couch, some horror movie playing quietly in the background as you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. 
Yet the sound of a harsh knock on the front door yanks you from your daze and you flinch in the slightest, your brows furrowing as you register how late at night it is. 
Quietly, you make your way towards the door, your hands pressing against the cool wood of the door as you look through the peephole. Much to your surprise, you can see Ellie standing right outside with her eyes burning holes through the door with how firm her gaze is. 
You have to shove down your excitement, feeling proud of yourself for getting the high and mighty Ellie Williams to be the one showing up to your doorstep late at night. With a deep breath, you unlock the door and open it up just enough for her to be able to see your face and the slightest bit of your body. 
“It’s late, why’re you here?” you immediately question in a disinterested tone. You don’t meet her gaze, staring at the wall behind her instead as she stands before you. 
Your tone makes Ellie’s eyes narrow, not used to being treated in such a way. She was used to you letting her in, forgiving her time and time again for her mistakes. But this was all new territory for her and she had to play her cards carefully. 
“Nice to see you too” she scoffs, her arms crossing over her chest out of sheer frustration. “Just wanted to see you for a bit, maybe smoke a little if you’re up for it” she offers, trying to keep her cool and deciding not to bring up the fact that you’ve been blatantly ignoring her. 
“Sorry, busy tonight” you lie through your teeth, as your plans were to rot away on the couch until you could muster enough strength to get up to go to your bed. You can see the anger building in Ellie and it feels so good to know you are making her feel the same pain that you felt countless times. 
“Y’know it’s common fucking courtesy to look at someone when holding a conversation” she seethes, not liking the way you’re dodging every single one of her attempts to get a good look at you. “And busy doing what?” she questions, before something dangerous flickers across her features. 
Before you can give another snarky reply, she’s making an attempt to shove the door open, standing on her tippy toes to try and see past you and into your apartment. “Who’s here?” she questions, immediately jumping to the conclusion that you had another hookup planned for tonight. 
You keep your hand placed firmly on the door, pushing it closed as much as you could without completely slamming it in her face. “No one is here, can you back off?” you huff, finding it hard to keep your position with how strong Ellie is. 
She finally stops pushing on the door, her brows still furrowed as she looks at you. “Then what are you so busy with?” she questions swiftly, not missing a beat. 
You can only shrug your shoulders, not really having an excuse ready. “I’m just busy, okay? Plus it’s not like you should even care. You’ve got tons of girls just begging for you to choose them for one night” you state bitterly, your mind flashing through each time you had seen Ellie with another girl. 
Your snappy remark didn’t seem to phase her, in fact it brought a slight grin to her face. “So you’re being a bitch because you’re jealous, is that it?” she questions, now seeming amused over the situation. 
Ellie’s harsh words make you wish you never opened the door, as she always played dirty during fights with you. “I’m not jealous of anything. Sleep with whoever the fuck you want and I’ll do the same” you say with an annoyingly fake smile just to get on her nerves. 
And it works, as your words remind her that she had heard rumors from mutual friends that you had slept with Abby, who she just so happens to despise with every fiber of her being. 
Acting only based on her emotions, she shoves your door open, stepping inside quickly and shutting it. “What? So just because I’m not giving you a ton of attention suddenly you need to go out and fuck the one person I hate the most?” she questions, her voice raising in the slightest. 
Your eyes widened after she managed to get inside, your mind going a mile a minute as you try to think of something quickly. “Fuck you” is all you can manage to spit out, your anger nearly making your whole body shake. 
Ellie just shakes her head, her shit eating grin only growing. “You already did that, remember? But maybe that’s what this is all about, huh? You’re just acting out cause no one has been fucking you properly?” she questions mockingly, taking a step closer and completely invading your personal space. 
The accusation makes you want to scream at her and yet at the same time it stirs something within you, some awful part of you that knows the tension within you would be eased if Ellie were to touch you. 
But you choose to let your anger speak instead. 
“I don’t wanna fuck someone who sleeps around with every slut that’ll open their legs” you scoff, not even thinking of the consequences of what you had said. 
A thick silence hangs over the two of you for a moment, the lack of movement or noise from Ellie making your stomach sink as you watch her expression twist into one of pure anger. 
“Why do you always have to run your mouth? I don’t care about those other girls, I came here because I want to be with you but you’re shutting me out and having a goddamn pity party” she spits, absolutely despising the tone you had taken with her. 
Your tough exterior began to crack in the slightest at her words, silently cursing yourself for the butterflies that filled your tummy from her saying she only wants to be with you right now. You part your lips countless times in an attempt to say something, but your mind is growing hazier by the second. 
Ellie can sense that she’s got you right where she wants you and she is more than willing to take advantage of that. “See how easy it is to just be quiet for once?” she questions, leaning down so her lips are inches from your own and suddenly you are hyper aware of just how close she is to your body. 
You only nod your head, no longer in any mood to argue, needing Ellie more than anything in this moment. She hums in approval of your silence, finally connecting her lips with your own. 
It’s so rough, the both of you expressing your hatred through physical touch that left both of you gasping for air. She tugs on your lip with her teeth, purposely biting harder than usual just to prove a point. You return the favor by letting your hand tangle in her hair, tugging roughly as her lips move against your own. 
You know you shouldn’t be doing this. She’s using you but fuck it, you’re using her too and at this point you can’t give two shits about what you should be doing. 
She lets out a particularly loud moan when you tug on her hair, finally pulling back from the kiss, only for a string of spit to connect your lips to her own. Without a single word, she is dragging you towards your own bedroom that she had been in countless times. 
You don’t even fight back, only snatching your wrist away from her once you reach the bedroom. Ellie only glances at you before rolling her eyes, using the back of her hand to wipe her lips that were still glossed with spit. 
She tries to tug up your shirt but you shove her hands off, pulling it off by yourself instead. “Unlike those girls you fuck, I actually have a brain. Don’t need your fucking help” you mutter bitterly as you pull down your pajama shorts, discarding them onto the floor without a single ounce of care. 
You are left completely bare on top, Ellie’s eyes dropping shamelessly towards your tits that were now on display. Even with the situation, you were fuming, and yet Ellie made no attempts to console you. 
“Just get on the bed and shut up” she mumbles, lifting her own white tee and unbuckling her belt, her jeans hitting the floor with a soft clatter. You really aren’t about to argue with her, as the only time you’ll obey her is when you know she’s about to give you the best fuck of your life. 
You crawl onto the plush bed, feeling the mattress dip as Ellie settles between your legs. Your panties are uncomfortable when they are soaked by your arousal, your hips twitching unintentionally as Ellie glances down to where your underwear was still covering you. 
“You told me you have a brain but you kept these on?” she questions, yanking at the waistband of your underwear down to give you a hint of what to do. “I’m trying to fuck you, not sit here and have a sleepover or some shit” she mocks, making you feel stupid over something so small. 
“I do have a brain, asshole” you mutter, shimmying out of your underwear and pushing them onto the corner of the bed so they are out of the way. It’s as if Ellie can feel relief washing over her at the sight of you being completely bare for her once more, so vulnerable and all for her. 
“You’ve got a smart mouth too” she quips, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear quickly before laying down between your legs, carelessly pushing your thighs open so she can get a perfect view of your cunt. 
You ignore her comment, not really wanting to prove her right. The way she handles you is so rough, the frustration of these last few weeks weighing down on her as she finally takes you in completely. 
Without warning, she gives your pussy a firm smack, the pain blossoming from your core and spreading enough to make you flinch. “Pathetic, stupid” she mutters, delivering another hit before you can even try to get away from the harsh treatment. 
Each hit has you crying out, low whines leaving your lips as pleasure and pain blur together enough to leave you lightheaded. 
“I have to find out from other people that you decided to go out and fuck Anderson” she continues on, her eyes focused on your core that was undeniably aching. “And then you give me all this fucking attitude, treating me like shit just because you’re a little jealous” she huffs, one hand gripping your waist with a bruising grip to ensure you can’t escape the punishment. 
“M’ sorry, Jesus, I’m sorry!” you groan, your brows knitting as pain overcomes every inch of your being and yet it feels too good, the way her hits are landing against your clit making you gasp weakly. 
“No, you’re not” she interjects, although her hits finally cease, making your eyes drop down to where she had settled between your thighs. “But you will be” she adds on with a pleased hum, your cunt pulsing with pain as she admires her own work. 
Just as the punishment began, it ended. The soft pads of her fingers gently run along your slick folds to soothe the pain. The solace of it makes you whimper, a soft curse leaving your lips as your head drops back against a pillow. 
Going weeks without her touch was too much to bear and you couldn’t believe your plan actually worked but you didn’t have any time to dwell on the matter. 
With you being reduced to a complete mess, Ellie can’t stop a sick smile from taking form. “Had to hurt you just like you hurt me, sweetheart. You understand that, don’t you?” she asks in a voice that feigns sympathy, lazily rubbing your clit as she focuses more on your body’s reactions to her touch. 
The way your body relaxes despite the intensity of the moment is proof of how much Ellie’s presence soothes you and that is enough to make her ego grow even larger. 
You nod slightly at her words, weak moans tumbling from your lips. “I know, Els, I know” you breathe out, feeling the way her thumb lowers to gather more of your slick before smearing it against your clit is enough to make you let out a light groan. 
The way you comply so easily makes her feel like she finally has control over the situation once more and that only makes her want to ruin you more. “Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me that you won’t ever fuck anyone else while you’re seeing me” she demands, spitting on your cunt and beginning to ease her middle finger into your tight heat. 
“I’m sorry, okay? I won’t fuck anyone else, I swear” you state in a shaky voice, your moans filling the air around you as she pumps her finger in and out of you with ease. You’re lying through your teeth and even if both of you know that, Ellie can pretend to believe you in that moment. 
“That’s what I thought” she quips, lowering her head to messily lap at your clit as she adds another finger. The touches that should be intimate feel so dirty, so utterly wrong but there is no way you can feel bad when there is so much pleasure clouding your mind. 
She’s always messy, uncaring of the way her spit runs down your cunt and onto her fingers that are now curling at the most perfect angle. It’s as if she is desperate to make you come, desperate to prove that she is the only one that can make you shut your mouth for once. 
“Ellie, slow down” you whine breathlessly, not even truly meaning your words but you’re so overwhelmed that you can’t think of anything else to say. She refuses to yield, needing to taste you more than anything. 
Instead she chooses to suck harshly at your clit, slow and deep thrusts of her fingers making your eyes roll back. No words are needed between the two of you, the obscene sounds of her eating you out while she fingers you being enough to satisfy you both. 
She only pulls back to make a demand, still so close to your cunt that you can feel her breath fanning against you. “You better say my fucking name when you come or I swear to god I’ll use my belt to smack that pretty pussy of yours” she threatens, burying her face between your thighs the second she’s done speaking. 
And you are absolutely going to obey her, knowing that she will follow through with her words without hesitation. Your moans build, each one growing more high pitched than the last as you near your orgasm. 
Ellie keeps the perfect pace, the way she is moaning against you sending vibrations throughout your cunt that were just what you needed to push you over. “Ellie!” you cry out, your voice coming out far weaker than you intended. 
She always makes sure to fuck you through your high, letting you ride it out as long as possible. It’s almost hard for you to come back down, the feeling suddenly becoming too much as over sensitivity quickly sets in. 
You try to push Ellie’s head away, whining as you make a weak attempt to get her to ease up. “No, sensitive” you mutter, your mind barely able to form proper sentences anymore. Reluctantly, Ellie pulls back and gently eases her fingers from your cunt. 
“Missed your taste, so fucking good” she sighs as she quickly runs her tongue along her lower lip. You barely register her words, only giving a tired groan in response as you try to catch your breath. 
Ellie scoffs at the sight of you, already used up just from the slightest touch from her. “Don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet” she sighs, shaking her head as if to scold you. Her words are enough to pull you from your daze, your eyebrows raising in the slightest. 
You glance in the direction of the closet, knowing a strap is hidden away that only Ellie, Abby, and a few other hookups know about. You never wanted anyone to bring one, as at least you knew the one you owned would only be used on you and you alone. 
“You wanna fuck me?” you question with a slight smugness in your tone even after you just got turned into a complete mess by Ellie. The idea leaves you eager, knowing rough fucks with her tend to be some of the best. 
Much to your surprise, Ellie makes no movements towards the closet, instead finally deciding to shed her sports bra and boxers. She is left completely naked, a rare sight for you if you’re telling the truth but it makes your heart beat far faster than usual. 
“I’m gonna fuck you, sure. But I’m not using that strap, fuck that” she sneers, finally joining you back on the bed. Her words confuse you, as you’re not exactly in the right state of mind to be processing information. 
That is until she starts manhandling you, pushing one of your legs up and slotting herself against you so her cunt is brushing up against yours in the slightest. “I don’t need that shit to make you come, unlike those losers you fuck. Gonna make sure you feel it when I come, gonna make you remember that you’re all mine” she huffs, her anger returning and burning deep within her. 
You are completely at her mercy, your cunt sore from all that it had taken tonight yet you were still greedy enough to want more. She doesn’t waste any time, finally pushing her cunt right up against yours and rocking her hips slowly to find a proper pace. 
The way you can feel her clit pulsing against yours makes you moan, her cunt completely soaked from being able to get you off so easily. It’s absolutely filthy, the way her pace picks up with ease so that there's a squelch from the wetness shared between the two of you as she grinds her hips like it is the last thing she will ever be able to do. 
Even in this moment of unbridled lust, your mind runs through all the times you’d seen her with another girl once more. The memories make your stomach burn with anger and you don’t want to bite back your words anymore. 
“I, fuck that feels good— I fucking hate you. You’re such a dick all the fucking time” you groan, although your actions don’t match your words. You are frantically rubbing up against her, letting her clit brush against yours perfectly so that you’re both reduced to moaning messes. 
Your insults only get Ellie more worked up, her heart practically soaring as you confess to hating her. “Yeah, sweetheart? Well I hate you too and you’re such a fucking bitch all the damn time” she scoffs, her brows furrowing as she glances down, trying to memorize the way you look in this moment so she can get off to the memory for weeks to come. 
Her heated words make you grin, the two of you fucking against each other like rabbits in heat, only focused on pleasure and nothing more. Her slicks mixes with your own, heavy grunts leaving Ellie’s lips as she does her best to keep fucking you at the perfect angle for the both of you. 
“Gonna come inside you, baby” she mutters, the filthy words rolling off her tongue as if it were nothing. You know she just means that she’s gonna come but it’s enough to push you over the edge, your nails digging into Ellie’s soft hip as the two of you come at the same time. 
The room is a mess of moans and groans, Ellie giving a few more weak thrusts before her hips still. With blurry vision, you can make out the beads of sweat rolling down her forehead, taking in the way her nostrils flare in an attempt to get more oxygen. 
It feels like a privilege to see her like this, completely fucked out. “Christ” she mutters, shakily pulling her hips away from your own but quickly moving one hand between her thighs. 
For a moment you are confused, watching her movements as closely as possible. She uses her fingers to gather her own arousal before recklessly pushing her fingers back into your cunt and fucking them into you slowly. 
She was fucking her cum back into you, keeping her promise that she had made earlier. And holy fuck did it feel good, being completely claimed and used by her. 
You manage to let out a few broken moans, grabbing at her wrist and trying to tug it away. “S’ in there, promise. Just can’t take anymore” you whisper weakly, and within a second she has eased her fingers out of you so that you can recover. 
After all, she had done what she intended to do and she could finally feel the tension leaving her body. She falls onto the bed beside you, her breathing just as frantic as your own. 
Ellie was never one to show any sort of affection after sex, always being quick to pull on her clothes and out the door. However, tonight she pulled you close to her own body, burying her face into the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent to soothe herself. 
“I missed you” she mutters, no traces of malice in her tone. It is so hard to register that she is being truly vulnerable for possibly the first time ever but you carefully wrap your arms around her anyways, returning her affection. “Missed you too” you whisper back, letting your eyes flutter shut as you feel the flames of anger that had been burning for so long being put out in an instant. 
You knew she would be gone in the morning with no explanation, but for this moment she was all yours and no one could take that away. 
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ba9go · 2 months ago
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to fall in love with soulmate!bakugou katsuki
the soulmate au nobody ever asked for. in which red is your favourite colour, and also the colour of katsuki's eyes.
bakugou katsuki x gn!reader
you've always considered it one of your greatest blessings, being in class 1-a.
it's where you got to meet some of the brightest people at u.a. high. you were supported by amazing teachers and got to grow alongside the best classmates you could ever ask for; without 1-a, you wouldn't be half the pro-hero you were today.
but most of all, that's how you met your soulmate.
growing up, you never really believed in soulmates. you knew soulmarks existed. you've heard stories, of magically-appearing matching-coloured bands around the wrist and perfectly-synced unmatched chemistry between lovers simply destined for each other. it all sounded too good to be true.
you were 13 when your parents (who were "soulmates") decided to split after almost 20 years of marriage. you told yourself right there and then, that you would never live your life waiting for some magical moment, for the stars to align, for sparks to fly. what was the point?
you were 15 when you met your soulmate.
bakugou katsuki. when you first met him, he was loud, obnoxious, and absolutely unbearable. he was an egomaniac, an asshole to everybody. when you first locked eyes with his, you felt a burn sear across the skin of your wrist.
in the red of his eyes, you saw red. nevermind that red was your favourite colour — you were angry. angry that this guy just had to be your soulmate. your other half. but you also felt smug. smug that you were right, about soulmates meaning jackshit.
you couldn't read bakugou's expression. you didn't bother. you simply turned around and walked away.
you stopped by the nearest family mart and bought a concealer. you got back to your dorm room. seated on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, you finally allowed yourself to look down at your wrist.
again, you saw red — a single, braided cord tattooed around your wrist. of course, it had to be red. you dabbed at it with your newly-bought concealer until it was gone.
you don't miss the way bakugou stares at you, at your wrist, when you walk into class the next day. his eyes narrow, his face twists into a scowl, and you feel oddly satisfied.
but a soulmate isn't that easy to get rid of, apparently. especially when he's your classmate.
the moment you saw his quirk, you understood that bakugou katsuki was a force to be reckoned with.
bakugou katsuki was relentless. he was driven, ambitious, confident, and strong. and he only got stronger, and stronger. and you refused to fall behind him.
you couldn't take your eyes off him. you were afraid that if you blinked for even a fraction of a second, he'd go on without you and you'd miss out on his metamorphosis into a true hero.
into somebody you could actually love. and no, not just a fleeting love. a love that could last you a lifetime.
you don't take your eyes off bakugou katsuki. you watch him, furiously attentive with awe and fascination and spite. watching katsuki ignites something in you that you don't understand. well, not yet.
sometimes, your gaze flickers to katsuki's right wrist, to the red string wrapped around it, and your stomach twists at the reminder that bakugou katsuki was not just your rival; he was, in theory, the other half of your soul.
you continue denying this fact until bakugou forces you to face it.
after a particularly gruelling day of quirk training, you're completely spent. you're exhausted, hunched over the water cooler and taking mouthful after mouthful of water. when you stand back upright, your feet wobble and your knees buckle but you're steadied by a strong hand clasped on your shoulder.
you jerk at the touch, and you whip around to see bakugou katsuki standing next to you. you wrench yourself out of his hold and bakugou rolls his eyes at you.
"better not pass out," bakugou grumbles. "m'leavin' you and your beat-up ass here if you do."
"fuck off," you spit. "i don't need your help." you pass out as soon as you finish your sentence.
bakugou catches you and easily gathers your tired and bruised body in his arms. you wake up 3 hours later in recovery girl's office, with a pounding headache and, on the nightstand, a bottle of water and a box of aspirin.
you reach over to grab 2 pills and you realise that the concealer on your wrist has been smudged off. it's also then that you realise the brand-new concealer that's also on the nightstand.
the twist of your stomach is all too familiar, and it's then that you decide that you're done running away from your soulmate.
later, you find yourself knocking on his door. he opens the door after roughly 18 seconds of knocking and you're greeted with a gruff "fuck do you want" until he realises it's you, and he takes a step to the side to let you in.
you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, until he snorts, taking a seat on his bed and patting the spot next to him. you oblige.
it's quiet, and you realise you don't exactly know what to say. "thank you"? "i'm sorry"?
"so?" bakugou asks expectantly. "what, wrong brand of concealer?" he raises an eyebrow, somewhat amused.
you know he's joking, but you still flinch at his words.
"no, that's not it," you say, shaking your head quickly. "i just... well... i..." before you can stop yourself, you're crying.
bakugou catches on and offers you a tissue. you don't know why he's being so nice to you, but you mutter a quiet "sorry, thanks" and accept it anyway.
your hand brushes against his as you take the tissue, and you see the exact moment bakugou realises that for once, you don't have concealer applied to your wrist.
bakugou's frowning.
you don't know what you were expecting, showing up now at bakugou's room after ignoring him for most of the year and blatantly disregarding the fact that the two of you were soulmates. of course you should've known that he'd be upset.
"i'm sorry," you croaked. "for everything. i avoided you for so long, i was just so scared, i didn't know you back then and i wasn't ready to—"
bakugou holds your wrist so gently. you realise that he's still looking at the red band around your wrist, and your chest tightens at the uncharacteristically soft look in his eyes.
a small smile graces his lips, and it's like a weight is finally lifted off your shoulders because you finally get it.
bakugou katsuki is your soulmate.
"you're my soulmate," bakugou says simply, finally looking you in the eyes, and you know he's known all along but you can tell that he's sure of it now.
because you're sure of it now, too.
"you're my soulmate," you smile. you meet his gaze shyly, and as you stare into the red of his eyes you realise that red has always been your favourite colour.
i hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this ❤️
taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @valeriyaaak @v3n7s @deimosjay @zaiban2989 @girls-overflower @notmeduhh @dreamcastgirl99 @busdriver-move-that-ass @atashiboba @kathsuhki @armeenix @channnee @antiwhores @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kenqki @vikizzy @thesimpybitch @eempxth @hanta-seros-wifey @itztaki @thekidscallmebosss
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toesuckingoctober · 9 months ago
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I think some of the people with an obsessive hate for homeless people have a guilty conscience over it deep down and thus hate having to see homelessness directly, because it's homeless people simply existing within their line of vision that sets them off. It reminds me of a documentary where a CEO was offered a free trip to one of the factories his company's products were actually made in, and he doesn't just say no, he becomes visibly uncomfortable. Not in a "I'm being inconvenienced" way, but in a "I know for a fact this is wrong" way. There is a reason for class divisions--it allows for the suppression of empathy and compassion...
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crystallinestars · 11 months ago
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How They React to Your Death
My HCs about how I think the Genshin boys would react to your death. I wanted to write Kaeya too, but ran out of steam.
This month has been terrible to me, so I was in the mood for angst. I don't know how well these turned out, but they were fun to think about.
Part 2 here.
Characters: Alhaitham, Childe, Heizou, Kaveh, Lyney, Neuvillette, Venti, Wanderer/Scaramouche, and Wriothesley
WARNING:
Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details.
Spoilers for the backstories of all the mentioned boys.
MAJOR SPOILERS for Act V of the Fontaine Archon quest in Neuvillette's part.
Childe's part contains mention of suicidal thoughts.
Kaveh's and Venti's parts contain alcoholism
🎧 Alhaitham
Despite Alhaitham’s considerable wealth, no amount of money could cure your Eleazar sickness. His money could only buy treatment that prolonged your life a little bit, but ultimately your many years of battling the illness ended when he got news from the doctors that you had passed away in your sleep.
Alhaitham had accepted the news fairly quickly. He knew your death was inevitable, could see you slowly wasting away each time he visited you in the hospital over the past few months. So it was no surprise to him when the day finally came. The other patients and staff thought it strange how Alhaitham had no visible reaction to the news, but some chalked it up to shock when in truth the Scribe was simply accepting of that fact. There was no use denying something that already happened.
When Alhaitham came home that day, the house felt silent and empty. It reminded him of how the house felt when his grandmother passed away when he was younger. The sensations were similar. However, he did not cry over your death. Instead, he carried on his life as normal, or as close to it as he could now that you were no longer a part of what he considered ‘normal’.
At first glance, people thought that Haitham was unaffected by your death. Nothing about him changed. Not his mannerisms, his quality of work, or his expression. He remained the same reserved, stoic Scribe who had no time for trivial nonsense or extra work. He also never talked about you to others aside from confirming their question if you were truly gone. Alhaitham was like a well-oiled machine that worked efficiently like clockwork, keeping up the same even rhythm.
What they don’t see is how he comes home with the expectation of hearing your voice greet him upon entering, only to be faced with a defeating silence that makes his heart sink. They don’t know that Alhaitham wakes up throughout the night, expecting to find you snuggled up next to him in bed the way you used to before your sickness got worse, and you had to be hospitalized. However, you weren’t there no matter how many times he looked towards your side of the bed, and the Scribe could only sigh and try to fall back asleep while ignoring his aching heart.
No one sees how Alhaitham gets too lost in his books in the mornings and accidentally makes two cups of coffee instead of one due to force of habit. Or how, for once, he finds the silence of his house bothersome without your voice and the sounds of your activities resounding within the walls, and it’s enough to distract him from reading. He could be found reading at the House of Daena and Puspa Café more often from then on.
During his afternoon naps, Alhaitham sneaks back home and cradles your favorite blanket to mimic the sensation of holding your soft body in his arms the way he used to when you joined him for naps. He listens to recordings of you talking with him just so he can hear your voice again. He was glad he made the decision to record your voice at the hospital before you became too weak to speak. It gave him the chance to hear you one more time even if the sound of your voice made his chest hurt so much that he occasionally had to stop the recording to collect himself.
Nobody sees how Alhaitham finally picks up the fiction books you recommended him because they were your favorite. He prefers non-fiction, but these books are the last things he has left through which he could connect to your mind and way of thinking. He reads them all cover-to-cover even if he finds the story lacking or the writing not to his taste. He will learn to treasure each and every word because you once did.
What someone might see, as Kaveh did when he moved in with the Scribe, is a bookshelf filled with a few journals, a thick book with an emerald cover, and an assortment of fiction books that exist nowhere else in the house. Alhaitham never talks about these books unless asked, but their well-worn covers are a sign of frequent use, and sure enough, one can catch him reading a rare fiction book during one specific month each year.
🐋 Childe
You went missing after going out to collect some firewood in the woods near Childe’s home. A search party was arranged to find you with Childe in the lead, and he was also the first one to find your remains. Your body had been torn apart, blood and innards splattered across the snow, no doubt the work of some rifthounds. Usually, Childe would relish in such a gory sight, but not this time. Not when it’s your blood and flesh painted in the snow.
The sight leaves him numb. He’s numb when the search party comes to retrieve you, numb when he sees your parents weeping over your gruesome death, and numb when he takes on the duty of exterminating every rifthound he finds around Morepesok.
He wants to cry too, to grieve for you the way he needs, but refrains. He doesn’t want to appear weak and unreliable when his younger siblings mourn and cry over your death. You were like family to them, and your death broke their little hearts to pieces. Childe didn’t want to burden his siblings further by breaking down in front of them. He needed to remain a reliable older brother who could support them through this tough time, even when his own heart bled and he cried in his sleep when he dreamed about you.
Childe’s underlings noted that the Eleventh Harbinger became colder and more irritable after your passing. Any mention of your name would garner the speaker a harsh glare, and if Childe assumed what said person said about you was disrespectful, he didn’t hesitate to start a fight and beat the other person within an inch of their life. He became violent and unhinged, much like how he used to be when he returned from the Abyss as a fourteen-year-old boy.
Childe knew his behavior was irrational, and it pained him to see even his own family fear him due to his violent actions. He felt restless. Spending time at home among your belongings summoned feelings of longing and sadness, but even so, he couldn’t bear to throw anything away. He lived among the ghosts of your existence, however, it drove him mad with grief.
Childe needed an outlet for his emotions, so he took to fighting monsters and other strong opponents. He became even more reckless in battle. If before, the Harbinger sought out strong enemies to test his mettle against them and grow stronger as a result, now he sought out an opponent that would be worthy of taking his life.
Childe didn’t want to abandon his family. He loved them dearly and wanted to see his siblings grow up to be happy and successful people, but life without you felt so hollow. A part of him wanted to return to his family, but the sense of his family feeling incomplete never left him. You were just as much of a family to him as his siblings and parents were. He had plans to start his own family with you. But now… now, a part of him yearns to reunite with you in the afterlife. He promised he would stay by your side no matter what, and Ajax is not one to break his promises.
🔍 Heizou
Heizou was one of the first to hear about your stabbing that occurred in an Inazuman alleyway late that evening. You were rushed to a doctor to have your wound treated, but the robber who attacked you hit a vital area. Your blood loss was colossal, and it wasn’t long after arriving at the doctor’s that you succumbed to your injury.
To Heizou, the news brought on a sense of deja vu. He’s already lost a friend to crime in the past, and now he lost you to crime, too. The knowledge made him furious and heartbroken. He was angry at the robber for stabbing you just so he could steal some money that you didn’t want to part with, and he was angry at himself for failing to prevent this. After his friend passed away, Heizou swore to nip crime in the bud by discouraging criminals from committing crimes with the threat that he would find and capture them no matter what without fail. But what good did his resolve do if you still died because of an armed robber?
The heartache and guilt he felt ate away at him as the memory of your ashen face during your last few moments haunted him. He lost you. Never again would he get to spend time with you and make you laugh, kiss and hug you, or tell you he loved you.
His anger drove him to capture the murderer in record time, but hearing the criminal’s subsequent sentence for theft and murder didn’t comfort the detective. No amount of jail time would ever atone for the loss of your life.
After that day, Heizou lost his playful demeanor, becoming somber and reserved. He threw himself into his work, feeling pressured to capture as many criminals as he could in as little time as possible. However, his grief and exhaustion caused his mind to dull and make mistakes while investigating clues. It got to the point where Kujou Sara had to forcibly send him on vacation so he could take a break and properly process your death.
Despite his protests, Heizou knew he wasn’t much use in his current state, so he took this free time to visit your family and mourn together with them. He apologized for not doing a better job of protecting you, fully expecting your parents to lay blame on him for not protecting their child. To his surprise, your parents didn’t blame him at all. They even thanked him for catching the murderer and helping them to feel a little more at peace. Heizou’s interaction with your family helped him feel a tiny bit less guilty about your death.
The experience left him feeling a little less broken, so in the following days he sorted through your belongings in your shared home. He packed away some items to return to your parents, some things he put in storage, and others he gave away that he remembered you wanting to get rid of. A few of your items he kept for himself, one of which was a scarf you mentioned you bought because it was the same shade of green as his eyes which reminded you of him.
Heizou wore your scarf as a keepsake and good luck charm and would hardly be seen without it when he finally came back to work. What once served as your reminder of him, now served as his reminder of you, the person he loved with his whole being. But with the memories of you came the reminder of how you died. Though the memory was painful, it helped Heizou work up the will to keep pursuing his goal of eradicating crime. Even when the case was extremely tough with conflicting clues, your scarf would remind him to not give up, to not let another incident like yours happen again, and Heizou would persevere. He would continue to persevere no matter how long it took because he didn’t want innocent lives like yours to be snatched away so cruelly. Maybe one day, he will see you in the afterlife and proudly tell you all about how he achieved his dream. Until then, he will work hard to be worthy of the title of Inazuma’s best detective.
🍷 Kaveh
Kaveh had a lot of work to do. He was saddled with creating drafts for another large project while also trying to work on the commission for constructing a library in Aaru village for the children. Wanting to help alleviate his burden, you offered to take the finished drafts over to Aaru village yourself so he could focus on finishing up work for his other project. Kaveh tried to object, saying you really didn’t need to trouble yourself on his behalf, but you insisted, expressing your desire to help him finish his work sooner so the two of you could spend more time together again. After some deliberation, he let you go to the village by yourself, confident that you could make the trip since you accompanied him there several times before.
A few days later, Kaveh received news that you had died on your return trip from the desert. When he heard the cause of your death, his stomach roiled. You perished in quicksand just like his father. You died doing something for his sake, just like his father did.
Whatever future plans he was building together with you, whatever progress you made in helping him slowly heal from his trauma, it all came crashing down around him. Your death reopened old wounds Kaveh was only starting to heal from, as well as left new scars that tormented him every waking moment.
The first few weeks, Kaveh couldn’t stand to be in your shared home. It was full of memories of you, and each and every one of your belongings would stab at his heart like a blade. Moreover, the house felt so silent without you around. It reminded him of when his mother left for Fontaine, leaving him alone in a house too big for only him to live in. Now, he was reliving that moment all over again, but it was worse this time because, unlike his mother, he would never see you again.
Kaveh also couldn’t stand to look inside his sketchbooks. The pages were covered in various sketches of you, and looking at them only made the anguish and guilt grow in him tenfold. He blamed himself for your death, attributing it to being his fault just like he attributes his father’s death as his fault too. No matter what anyone says to console him, he will never stop believing it’s all his fault.
Fueled by guilt and self-loathing, Kaveh spent several weeks visiting Lambad’s tavern practically every day. One could even say he lived there since the architect seldom went home. He used what little money he had to buy alcohol, especially of the stronger kind. He wanted to numb the pain in his heart and to pretend that you weren’t really gone from this world. The alcohol helped to muddle his mind until his intoxicated brain conjured happy memories of you together, and Kaveh would mumble your name in a drunken haze. Other times it didn’t help, and Alhaitham, Cyno, or Tighnari could often find a drunk Kaveh quietly crying while slumped over a table and trying their best to drag him home while listening to his drunken babble of self-loathing and regret.
It will take a long time for Kaveh to feel okay again, and even then, he will never be the same optimistic and cheerful person he used to be. You were his muse, the one who made him feel like maybe he was deserving of love after all. But with you gone, he lost his creative spark. His designs no longer held the same extravagant and artistic flair they used to. Now, they’re more tame by comparison. With your passing, you took with you the little bit of joy he felt towards the world, and it seemed more bleak than it used to be when he was with you.
Kaveh refused to seek out love after your death. He’s lost too many people he held dear and has been left alone over and over again. The pain of being left behind and of feeling like he will only bring misfortune to those he cares about, made him seal off his heart. He doesn’t want to let people close to him like that again, and neither does he want to replace you. You were, and still are, very special to him.
Despite numerous years going by after your passing, Kaveh never forgot you, and he didn’t want your memory to be forgotten either. He built an art school and dedicated it to you in honor of being the one who inspired him so much in his creative endeavors. He hopes that your name will live on and continue to inspire future generations of artists long after he is gone from the world.
🎩 Lyney Having grown up in the House of the Hearth with Lyney and Lynette, the twins were practically like family to you. Though admittedly, Lyney and you developed romantic ties rather than familial ones the more you got to know each other. It was no surprise to anyone when the two of you became a couple, and Lynette even encouraged it.
Being a member of the Fatui, you were often sent out on dangerous missions to infiltrate enemy territory and report your findings back to Arlecchino. You were good at your job and had major successfully completed missions under your belt, but even the best slip up sometimes. After infiltrating enemy headquarters, you regularly reported your findings back to the House, however, one day the correspondence stopped. You went completely silent. The thought of you being caught immediately crossed Lyney’s mind, but he was hopeful that as an experienced agent, you would manage to find a way out somehow. You always have in the past, and after having worked together with you during joint missions, he saw first-hand how capable you were. To pass the time, he focused on polishing a magic trick he wanted to show you upon your return.
Days go by, and just as the magician is about to lose his patience and run off to try and find you, news about your body washing up on a riverbank reaches his ears. The heartbreak Lyney experiences upon hearing the news is indescribable. He felt lost, disoriented, and anguished. A part of him refused to believe the facts, but after witnessing the gruesome sight of your corpse, he had no choice but to face reality.
You were dead.
Lyney wondered at length about the cause of your death, and while his own guesses made his stomach knot, the autopsy report he read a few days later made him livid. Numerous torture and abuse marks were found on your body. It seemed that the enemy had captured and tortured you, hoping to force you to spill some of the Fatui’s secrets. Judging by the severity of the most recent wounds, you must have kept quiet because more brutal torture methods were used on you until the enemy figured out they wouldn’t get anything out of you, and disposed of you. Lyney knew how loyal you were to your family. You would never betray them even at the cost of your own life, but in that moment, he really wished you would have treasured your life more. Maybe then you could have survived. Maybe then he would have had the chance to hold you in his arms and tell you he missed you while you were gone. Maybe he would have had an opportunity to show off the magic trick he created specifically for your eyes only. But now, he’ll continue to miss you until the day death comes for him too. Lyney’s initial reaction upon hearing of your torture is overwhelming fury. Lynette had to hold him back from recklessly running off to take revenge against the enemy. It took a lot of reasoning on her part, but eventually, her brother calmed down.
Once his bout of anger passed, Lyney broke down. Lynette didn’t hide her own tears as she held her brother in her arms while he cried. The siblings both missed you dearly and mourned your loss, but Lyney took your death especially hard. He felt broken. One of his most precious people was taken from him in such a cruel manner, and the mere thought of how you must have spent your last few waking hours made him feel horrible.
He was anguished and angry, and the potent concoction of negative emotions weighed down on his heart and mind. Gone was his cheerful smile and outgoing attitude, replaced with a cold and somber frown. His calculative side took center stage. Though his initial burst of outrage passed, he wouldn’t give up on his desire for revenge until the act had been carried out. Aside from the twins, Arlecchino also refused to take your death lying down. You were her precious child, someone she put in a lot of love and effort to raise, and this transgression angered her as much as it angered Lyney. Together with Arlecchino, Lyney and Lynette infiltrate enemy headquarters and make every person a part of that organization pay. The magician ensures that the perpetrators experience the same pain you went through during your torture, and by the time they’re done, not a soul is left alive.
Even after exacting revenge, Lyney barely feels a smidge better. Though your captors have been neutralized and won’t hurt anyone the way they hurt you ever again, it doesn’t satisfy Lyney. At the end of the day, all he wants is to have you back in his life. He consoles himself with pieces of your clothing. Your clothes smelled like you, and Lyney hugged one of your items every night, breathing in your scent and soaking the material with his tears as he quietly cried. It takes a long time for Lyney to get himself together and act like himself again. Though he could easily put on a fake smile for his audience, his heart still aches inside. He misses you no matter how many months go by, and Lynette has her hands full comforting him when he breaks down at night and cries about how much he wants to see you. Lyney would have had an easier time accepting your death if you had passed away more peacefully, but knowing you were tortured to death will forever haunt him.
Once he feels more like himself, Lyney incorporates the magic trick he originally wanted to show you upon your return into his magic shows. He only performs it during special occasions so it would leave a great spectacle upon his audience. It was once made to awe you, but now it awes his audience, and a part of him feels some semblance of catharsis in knowing he could inspire others to feel the same joy you made him feel using just this trick. At times like these, Lyney feels as if a part of you was still there with him, enjoying the show he secretly dedicates in your honor.
⚖️ Neuvillette
You were visiting your friend Navia in Poisson, when the Primordial Sea flooded the area and caused a great catastrophe that took the lives of many of its residents. Neuvillette was aware you were in Poisson when the disaster struck, and he tried to get there as quickly as he could to check on you. He would have arrived there immediately were it not for the pressing matters he had to settle prior. He hoped the Traveler and Paimon would find you and keep you safe since they knew you were the Iudex’s beloved.
When he finally made it to Poisson, to his morbid surprise, he found neither you nor Navia, but some Fatui members helping to mitigate the damage. When he asked about your whereabouts, he was told that nobody had seen you. Immediately, his thoughts ventured to the worst scenario, but he refused to believe in his fears until he could get confirmation. He held out hope that you were alright, and went in pursuit of Navia and the Traveler, hoping that maybe you were with them, or they knew what happened to you.
It wasn’t until he was saving Navia from getting dissolved in the Primordial Sea water, did he catch a glimpse of your face. You were trying to protect Navia from certain death, along with Silver and Meluse. At the time he was too anxious about saving Navia to fully register the implication, but an unsettling thought sprang in his mind that maybe you really were— No, he didn’t want to accept it.
When Navia regained consciousness, Neuvillette asked her about your whereabouts. Her answer pierced through him like an ice-cold lance. With tears in her eyes, Navia recounted how you were helping Silver and Meluse rescue the residents of Poisson when the Primordial Sea flooded in, and how she saw your body dissolve in the water along with her loyal subordinates with her own eyes. The news settled in Neuvillette’s stomach like a boulder, causing it to sink and make him feel nauseous. Dread filled him, but he could only muster a quiet “I see…” and stare off into the distance. He felt crushing sadness, but he wasn’t given time to properly process his emotions and your death until he managed to make it out of the ruins.
That evening, Fontaine was hit by a torrential downpour that lasted several days. The rain fell in heavy sheets, flooding the streets and urging most of the citizens to seek shelter in their homes. Only the Chief Justice had the gall to stand outside and let the rain seep and soak through his clothes.
Neuvillette let the water droplets cascade down his face, imitating the tears he wished to shed as the realization that he would never see you again settled in. It was strange. Though he was on land, each waking moment he was pursued by a constant feeling of drowning. His chest felt heavy as if burdened by a great weight that made each breath he took feel like a herculean task.
Neuvillette felt a lot of emotions he couldn’t find the words for. He was frustrated and angry that innocent civilians had died in the flood because nothing was done to prevent it. So many people died. You died. If nothing else, he wanted to get justice for your and the others’ deaths.
However, Furina refused to provide answers to his questions despite his probing and insistence that now was not the time to keep secrets that could potentially help prevent an even greater catastrophe. That was when he turned to seeking aid from his companions, in the hopes that Fontaine could still be saved. Neuvillette lost and gained many things in those few days. The citizens of Fontaine were freed of their curse, and Neuvillette had obtained a position of complete authority, however, it all came at the cost of the lives of innocent civilians, Focalors’s life, Furina’s mental state, and… your life. Those were great prices to pay, and Neuvillette mourned each and every sacrifice.
Now that he had some time to himself to process his feelings, Neuvillette recognized that what he felt was grief and longing. He wanted to see you at least one more time, to feel you in his arms again. To have you taken from him so suddenly was too painful. He never got to tell you one last ‘I love you’, and he could only hope that his words reach you wherever your consciousness might be now. Fontaine will see frequent rainfall in the coming months. It won’t be easy for Neuvillette to get over your death, and some part of him will always ache and yearn to see you again. But one thing he can do is strengthen his resolve to make Fontaine into a nation that both you and Focalors would be proud of. A nation where tragedies like these will never happen again.
🍃 Venti
Venti liked to climb up on high places like his statue in front of the Favonius church, the rooftop of the Cat’s Tail, or the great tree at Windrise. Today, you found him high up in the tree, absentmindedly strumming a new tune on his lyre. Wanting to surprise the bard, you tried your best to climb the tree as quietly as you could, but right as you were about to pop up and surprise him, the branch you were on snapped, and with a heart-stopping shriek, you plummeted down to the ground.
Your scream alerted Venti. He felt your presence before you even started climbing the tree, but he failed to foresee the danger until it was too late. He didn’t react fast enough to summon a gust of wind to safely lower you down. The sickening crunch of your skull hitting the ground made his stomach roil, and for a brief moment he felt as if the blood in his veins turned to ice. He felt frozen in place.
Snapping out of his momentary stupor, Venti rushed to your side to check on you, but the enormous pool of blood blooming around your lifeless body made him throw up.
Not again. He lost someone he loved once more. The painful emotions of losing you triggered a cascade of memories of seeing the broken body of that one boy he called a friend thousands of years ago. The same boy whose face he now wore as a way of honoring his memory and giving him an opportunity to live out his dreams of freedom through Venti.
Venti felt that same feeling of heavy emptiness once again as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, your blood smearing the white sleeves of his shirt. One of the bard’s hands cradled your still-warm cheek, and he wept. To have you taken away so easily through such a small accident… it was too much.
Venti didn’t attend your funeral. He couldn’t bear to. However, he forced himself to watch from a distance as your loved ones gathered around your grave. He fully empathized with their grief.
In the following days, one could often find Venti at a tavern. He started with Angel’s Share, but after consecutive days of heavy drinking and drunken ramblings about how remorseful he felt and how you deserved better, Diluc put a stop to Venti’s visits. The Anemo Archon wasn’t getting any better from drinking himself into a stupor until he could barely hold himself upright. It was heartbreaking to see.
Even after being banned from the Angel’s Share, Venti would visit other taverns in the city and rinse and repeat. He so badly wanted to numb the pain in his heart and forget the awful memory of your lifeless body. Only after several bans did Venti finally stop coming to the city altogether. He disappeared for a while, and nobody was able to find him. Only after many weeks did the bard suddenly pop up in the town square with his lyre in hand.
During his absence, Venti wrote a few songs as a way to cope with his grief, and after a while, finally felt well enough to play them. As a bard, he was well-known in Mondstadt for playing cheerful and beautiful tunes, but this time his melodies were melancholic, even sad. They listened to him sing about a love he can no longer say ‘I love you’ to anymore, someone he can no longer forge new memories with and can only carry on in his heart as a memory. The music he played captured the attention of every member of the audience and touched their hearts so deeply that they, too, could feel the sorrow the bard was trying to convey through his melodies. His pain became their pain, too. The heartache was so profound, so raw and crippling, that many people couldn’t hold back from crying.
Venti wasn’t playing the songs to earn money or share his sadness with others. He was playing them for you. He hoped that his feelings would reach you wherever you were and that your memory wouldn’t fade away even if he remained the last person alive who knew of your existence. His songs will keep your memory alive in the hearts of the Mondstadt citizens, never to be forgotten.
☂️ Wanderer
You have been fighting chronic sickness for months, but despite the treatments, each week you seemed to get worse and worse. Neither the doctors of Sumeru nor even Nahida herself could figure out a cure for your condition. You were bedridden with barely any strength to move. Wanderer took responsibility for nursing you back to health by helping you get to places you needed, cooking all your meals and feeding you, as well as getting your medicine and administering it.
Despite his efforts, you could tell you wouldn’t last long. While you still had the strength to talk, you apologized to him for being forced to part from him.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, with a frown pulling at his lips. “Rather than talk about such nonsense, use that energy to get better instead.”
He didn’t want to face the facts, to accept the reality that you could disappear from his life. But then came a day where you no longer opened your eyes when he called your name, nor stirred when he tried to shake you awake. Your body was cold and stiff and so unlike what he was used to seeing you as. The life you possessed was gone in all senses of the word.
Something in Wanderer snapped that day. Falling to his knees, he let out a guttural scream that tore at his vocal cords. He unleashed a wail that carried all the anguish and misery he’d been keeping bottled up inside for hundreds of years. He’s lost so many people he cared for in the past. Each time he met someone he grew attached to, fate would always tear them away from him, and you were no exception.
He cried bitter tears in the privacy of your shared home, cursing Fate for doing this to him over and over again. He was angry and heartbroken. Though he lacked a real heart, the sensation in his chest felt like something inside him broke into a million tiny fragments. As if sharp needles pierced through his non-existent heart and caused him to scream until he lost his voice.
He wanted revenge, but how can one get vengeance against Fate itself?
You were gone, so cruelly torn away from his side despite his best efforts to keep you alive. You were the little ray of light that never gave up on him no matter how cold he was towards you or how much he pushed you away, and helped him heal little by little. You accepted him in his entirety and wormed your way into his non-existent heart, so how dare Fate mock him like this? Wanderer truly felt as if Fate was purposely torturing him by taking away all those whom he held dear.
Helpless and anguished, Wanderer reverted to the days when he used to be Scaramouche, the sixth of the Fatui Harbingers who was infamous for his callousness and mercilessness. His roiling emotions spurred him to repeat these spiteful acts against anyone who got in his way. It was the only way he knew of how to vent these overwhelming emotions that made him feel like he was choking on his grief.
It took Nahida’s interference to calm him down and get through to him that you wouldn’t want him to be like this. The Wanderer you fell in love with wasn’t such a hateful person driven by negative emotions, and though he was loathe to admit it, the God of Wisdom was right.
Having quelled the initial burst of wounded anger, Wanderer would think more clearly about what he should do from now on. He could keep all your items, photographs, and letters, but they would never replace you, only help preserve some of the memories attached to them, which a puppet like him had no need for. He won’t forget even the smallest thing about you, not as long as he’s alive.
Wanderer becomes a regular visitor of your grave, taking care of it so your name won’t be erased from the gravestone by time too quickly. He would frequently bring your favorite foods and flowers and place them in front of your grave, before taking a seat next to it and staring off into the distance without saying a word. He did this mostly at night so he could stargaze, just like how you both used to when you were alive.
Even centuries later, when everyone who knew you took their memories of you to their graves, Wanderer will remain to watch over your final resting place, unwavering in his devotion.
🐺 Wriothesley
You accompanied Wriothesley on another one of his swims out in the open waters surrounding the Fortress. Since you weren’t a vision holder, you had to wear a diving suit to breathe, unlike your beloved Duke. You’ve had these private little swim dates a few times before, so your guard was down when you swam through some jagged areas of the Fortress’s scaffolding. The shoulder of your diving suit caught on a sharp edge of metal and tore a hole in it. The tear was fairly large, and you panicked when you felt water rush inside your suit. Wriothesley was quick to freeze the hole and pull you up to the surface to get the suit off of you, but by the time he did, it was too late. You had inhaled too much water and were unresponsive. Wriothesley tried to keep his anxiety at bay and utilized all the CPR knowledge he learned from Sigewinne to try and save your life. He breathed air into your lungs and did chest compressions with enough force to hear your ribs crack, but even after 30 agonizing minutes of trying, you wouldn’t wake up.
Wriothesley had no choice but to accept the fact you died. Wriothesley doesn’t cry for you. He’s no stranger to death. His exposure to it in his younger years made him all too aware of how easy it is to die, and that death came for all without exception. As a result, he was able to accept your death a little easier than most, but it doesn’t mean he made peace with it. The staff and inmates at the Fortress all said Wriothesley looked the same as usual even after your death. He kept up his laidback yet intimidating demeanor and busied himself with the variety of work someone in his position was required to take care of. Only Sigewinne could tell that Wriothesley was not alright despite all the strained smiles he gave everyone. The bags under his eyes grew more prominent by the day, a clear indicator he wasn’t sleeping well. She saw how he threw himself into his work, barely taking any time to rest properly, as if wanting to keep his mind busy from the horrible memory of seeing your corpse. Though he tried to mask it, in truth, your death affected Wriothesley deeply. He had frequent nightmares about watching you drown and being unable to save you, and they would keep him up at night. He usually awoke in a cold sweat, his heart pounding from intense panic and dread until his mind cleared, only to be replaced with a stone-cold reality that made the feelings of guilt come rushing back. Out of habit, he turns to your side of the bed to seek comfort in your presence but seeing it cold and empty served as yet another harsh reminder that you were gone. Wriothesley can’t sleep after his nightmares, so he opts to work out or fuss over his gauntlets to distract himself from his feelings. It takes all his self-control to keep a lid on his emotions and not become the angry, irritable mess he knows he will be if he’s not careful.
When he makes tea, Wriothesley accidentally makes two cups out of habit. One for you and one for him. Even weeks after your passing, it was still a difficult habit to break. For the first while, Wriothesley would even stop drinking your favorite tea blend because it reminded him of you. Rather than enjoy the flavor, all he tastes is bile in his throat. The flavor of your favorite tea makes him nauseous because it makes him think about how you will never taste this again or have another tea date in his office.
There was one occasion when he tried to drink your tea shortly after your death. He thought maybe the flavor would remind him of the happy times he shared with you, but all it resulted in was a broken teacup from the force of his grip, and Sigewinne fussing over his cuts and burns. He didn’t drink your favorite blend for a long time after that, only being able to find enjoyment in it again many years later when the startlingly clear memory of your death didn’t hurt him as much. Wriothesley felt lonely without you. You were the friend and confidant he told his deepest and darkest secrets about his past, the comfort he sought after a difficult day, and the soothing presence that made him feel accepted for who he was without all the embellished titles. But after your passing, the Fortress of Meropide seemed cold and gloomy, as if devoid of the warmth it once had that made him call it home. It was as if your death snuffed out the little ray of warm sunshine he felt when spending time with you.
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milkloafy · 5 months ago
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SILENT BUT RECKLESS — TODOROKI SHOUTO
⋆。˚ ❀ summary: in which pro hero!shouto saves you from getting run over by a car and finds himself immediately enraptured by you.  ⋆。˚ ❀ contents: pro hero!shouto, fluff, gn!reader ⋆。˚ ❀ wc: 1.3k ⋆。˚ ❀ a/n: aka…pro hero!shouto is a pr nightmare and no u cannot convince me otherwise ! ahdjskc but frl this is so unserious but i miss the og anime loml so here we are :>
Shouto wasn’t exactly known for his talkative nature. 
It was quite the opposite, in fact, with news agencies and magazines often referring to him as the quiet one of the Big Three. Though, he supposed that was better than being known as the one with the family trauma. 
But people often mistook his silence for thoughtfulness, he realized. Or an intense observation of sorts. And while at times that was the case, most times, it was simply because he didn’t have anything to say. 
Shouto blinked as he realized the situation he was in. 
He had just stopped a villain from robbing a luxury clothing store for the third time this month, nothing too exciting, yet the journalists showed up each time for an interview with him after. 
“Sir, we are live,” the reporter reminded with a nervous laugh. “We asked if you had a message for any…”
She kept talking, but Shouto was unable to concentrate. Not because he had heard it millions of times before, but because he noticed a strange movement from the corner of his eyes. 
This was one of the times he was both silent and observant. 
Shouto spotted you crossing the street on your phone, staring at your screen and completely oblivious that a car was headed your way with little to no sign of stopping. 
Without thinking of how it would look to the public for him to ditch an interview mid-sentence, he ran over to you before he even processed his legs moving. Throwing his right arm out in front of him, he sent a wall of ice up to block the vehicle’s predicted path, reaching you just in time to sweep you off your feet and carry you away from the road as the ice began to shatter from the impact. 
The ice wall was thick enough that the car slowed before fully breaking through, but that didn’t stop Shouto from instinctively shielding you with his body in the event that ice shards propelled towards you. 
Once he heard the sound of a crash and alarms, he figured the vehicle was fully stopped and the authorities arrived to assess the situation themselves. Would he get scolded by his agency for putting up an ice wall and potentially damaging someone’s vehicle? It was likely so. But that was better than someone actually getting hit by a car instead. 
The world wanted heroes, but only when they fit into their ideal mold. And while rules and regulations helped keep order in the world, in moments like these when someone’s life was in danger, Shouto couldn’t be bothered to care.
Slowly, his body relaxed and he was able to finally take a look at you. At the person who, for some reason, was so focused on their phone they didn’t notice a car coming at them. 
Any criticisms that threatened to come out of his lips stayed there once he got a good look at your features. He found himself taken aback by how beautiful you looked, though he quickly cleared his throat and recovered from his blatant staring. 
“Be careful when you’re crossing the street,” said Shouto, walking over to a section of grass and away from the commotion that was happening on the road, with you still in his arms. “What was keeping you so occupied?” 
You looked up at him guiltily, your phone clutched between your hands. “I was trying to order my food…” 
He blinked. As a pro hero, he shouldn’t be one the judge victims. But he couldn’t help but raise his brow just a bit. 
“I was really hungry,” you said sheepishly, hiding your face in embarrassment. “But I can’t believe I was so focused on my order I didn’t realize the car wasn’t stopping!” You sighed to yourself before meeting Shouto’s eyes once more. “Thank you for saving me, Shouto. I’m sure you had much more pressing matters to attend to instead of saving some random person off the street.”
He shook his head. “That’s the most important part of the job. Saving people.” 
You smiled gratefully at him and he almost had to look away from your dazzling grin. “Well, thank you for saving this idiotic person right here.” You gestured towards yourself. “Still, I hope my order went through…”
A mixture between a snort and a laugh escaped his lips. You had almost gotten run over and your biggest concern was whether or not your dinner was on its way? 
“It’s didn’t!” you cried in exasperation as you peeked at your phone. “Well, I might as well get a convenience store meal at this point.” Sighing, you leaned your head against his chest for a brief moment of comfort. “By the way, you can set me down now. I think people are taking pictures of us.” 
“Oh,” said Shouto, “right.”
Carefully, he loosened his hold on you and set your feet carefully onto the floor. Before fully letting go of you, he made sure you were stable and steady. For some, it took a while for the events to process and the panic to settle in, and he wanted to ensure you were truly okay. 
You had a worried look on your face as you noticed the video cameras still focused on the two of you. 
“Will you get in trouble for this?” you whispered, leaning close to his ear. 
“For rescuing someone from a getting hit by a car and talking to them after?” He considered things for a moment. “Most likely. But it’s okay. The most important thing is you are safe, both physically and mentally.”
Giggling, you nodded, reaching up to pat him on top of his head. Shouto was startled by the sudden touch, but he didn’t pull away.
“Who knew Shouto was such a worrywart,” you teased. “I’m safe and unharmed, all thanks to you. In fact, to show my gratitude… Why don’t I treat you to some convenience store dinner? On me, of course!” 
Shouto was silent for a bit. There were plenty of things he should be thinking about right now. The headlines that would be made about Pro Hero Shouto saving someone and then going on a “date” with them right after. The damage it could do to his reputation. The overtime hours the agency would make his public relations team work.
Instead, his silence was used to think of what he exactly he wanted to get at the convenience store. 
“Okay,” Shouto said once he made up his mind. “I’ll take a curry bun.” 
You laughed and gestured for him to follow you to the nearest convenience store. “I like that, too. You have good taste.” 
He followed along beside you, pleased with himself when he heard your captivating laugh. 
“I think I want an egg sandwich tonight,” you stated, a thoughtful look on your face. “Or maybe some fried chicken. Or an egg sandwich and fried chicken? And a smoothie for a drink and dessert all in one item! But maybe I want a crepe instead…”
As you rambled on, Shouto suddenly understood how you were too engrossed with trying to order food on your phone that you didn’t realize a vehicle was approaching you earlier. And while that was dangerous, he found it slightly endearing. Just as long as you were away from any cars. 
Shouto was so focused on listening to you that he hardly paid attention to the look of shock on the reporters’ faces and the influx of calls he was receiving from his agency. 
Right now, he simply wanted to hear you talk more and eat a curry bun. 
The rest, he could deal with later. 
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sunrizef1 · 5 months ago
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Birthday Blues
Pairing: Max Verstappen x reader
Authors note: finished this yesterday but tumblr deleted it xx
Warnings: none, for once
Word count: 5.9k
Requested: yes/no
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Max was tired. He’d been at this charity event for hours, sat to the side sipping at some drink he’d been handed as he watched coworkers and acquaintances mill about, spreading joy he didn’t have.
He’d came alone, contrary to most of his friends who all danced and laughed with their partners, swinging around loosely under the evening lights, faint music guiding their hearts in a loving dance.
He’d come under the notion that he’d get to hang out with Daniel or Charles, maybe even Checo. But they were all whisked away with the brush of a gentle hand and a lipstick kiss, leaving with the merry call of their lovers giggle and leaving a disgruntled and lonely Max in their wake.
So here he was, his friends preoccupied and in love, a frown gracing his face and the ideal of charity being the only thing keeping his perfectly clean dress shoes cemented to the tile floor.
He takes a big swig of whatever drink was in his hand, grimacing as the bourbon burned his throat on the way down. He vaguely considers leaving, debating how much his presence would be missed by those happier than him when one of the few people in the same boat as him comes bounding up.
“Maxie!” Max winces at the volume of Landos voice as he stomps happily up to the Red Bull driver, a toothy grin on his slightly intoxicated face. Max disregards the awful nickname, choosing instead to humor the McLaren driver.
“Hi Lando,” Max smiles, unable to truly be displeased around the ball of absolute joy in front of him, “Enjoying yourself?”
Lando laughs, although Max isn’t entirely sure what’s so funny. He doesn’t mention it though, tilting his head in the Brits direction.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fun,” Lando starts, moving to lean against the wall Max was standing on, “Seems to be more romantic than usual, though. Not exactly my cup of tea.”
This causes the frown to reappear on Max’s face, his lips forming a firm line as he’s reminded of his loneliness in the face of the romance that surrounded him. Max simply hums in response, suddenly wishing he had another drink. He turns to grab one from a nearby waiter, eyes trailing after them as they walk away. As he traces their path, his gaze finally catches on you.
You were stood a few yards away, your form perfectly blocked by the way Lando had been standing. After seeing you, Max wishes he’d pushed Lando out of the way much sooner. His gaze traces the features of your face delicately, scrawling over the expanse of your flowing dress, the red shining beautifully against your skin. Max wishes for nothing more than study the freckles that dot said skin, knowing he could makes the most beautiful constellations if given the chance. Your hair falls perfectly around your face, framing it as if it was a work of art. Even after one look, Max isn’t sure that you, in fact, aren’t one. He’d certainly pay good money even if your face was the only exhibit.
Lando, even in his drunken state, catches on to Max’s staring and turns to catch your attention, calling out your name in the loudest of fashions. Max finds himself mouthing your name to himself the second it leaves Landos lips, hoping he’d have to use it a lot in the future.
You turn and smile as you spot the pair, taking the few steps it takes to reach them. Lando slings an arm around your shoulder and Max is suddenly struck with the terrifying idea that you were dating the small, insane, terrifyingly unromantic Brit next to you. It would certainly be strange, considering Lando had just dismissed the event for being “too romantic”. But as you lean into his hold, Max has to stop himself from frowning.
“Maxie, this is my friend, Y/N. She’s just moved here so she’s crashing with me while her place gets furnished or whatever. She’s just as boring as you so I’m sure you’ll get along great,” Lando grins. You don’t seem offended by his words, probably both aware of the amount he’s drank and understanding of the joking connotation behind his rude statement.
“I don’t go out to a club with you one time and you decide to write me off for being boring ever since,” You roll your eyes, a charming smile on your lips. Max lights up at the realization that you’re not, in fact, dating the extremely talented McLaren driver next to you.
Lando snorts unceremoniously, swaying the two of you side-to-side, “Maybe you should’ve come out, then? It was sick, you would’ve loved it.”
“I was watching a movie, mate,” You laugh, ruffling the hair of your friend, “And I was sick!”
Lando laughs, finally releasing your shoulder from his grasp and falling back into place beside Max, “Yeah, yeah, whatever princess. Just be glad I brought you chicken soup the next day. Even with my nasty hangover and two hours of sleep!”
You smile warmly at the memory before something seems to strike you, “You fell asleep on my couch and then woke up and drank all my coffee!”
The thief in question holds his hands up in surrender, seemingly started to slowly back away from your accusatory glare, eyes scanning for an escape route, “Uh, why don’t you talk about that with Max, I’m gonna…”
His eyes finally catch on something on the other side of the room, his feet speeding up below him, “Go talk to Oscar! Bye, Y/N!”
You and Max turn to watch Lando speed away, careening into the back of Oscar, the Aussie stumbling forward from the impact. You look away, turning back toward Max with a slight laugh. As you face him, Max thanks the heavens for the atmosphere provided as the setting sun through the expansive windows combined with the soft lighting from above shine down on the side of your face, enlightening the curve of your lips as they open to release the soft melody of your voice.
“He’s so weird.”
Max laughs at the statement, his head moving on its own to agree with you, “He definitely is.”
You look up toward his face, your eyes quizzical and your head tilted slightly, “I’m so sorry, I don’t think Lando even properly gave us a second to meet. I’m y/n.”
Max nods, “Max.”
You smile, grasping a flute of champagne from a passing waiter into your perfectly manicured hand. Max takes a large gulp of his own glass, grateful for the temporary respite from his growing thirst.
“I know you, Max,” You smile, taking a sip of Champagne, “Been to a couple of races with McLaren. Congrats on being completely dominate by the way.”
Max laughs, ducking his head slightly as his face flushes red for a few moments, “Thank you.”
You nod, satisfied, as your eyes go back out or stare at the party flowing smoothly in front of you. Max leans slightly closer to you, causing your attention to snap back to him.
“If I’d known you’d been at a race I would’ve asked Lando to introduce us sooner,” Max smiles, liquid courage clearly causing excess confidence to bleed into his words.
You flush at his words, biting your lip in an attempt to cover your obvious grin. Max’s eyes widen warmly as you turn your face away, covering your warm cheeks with your free hand before turning back to him. Max is just happy he got you to laugh.
“Is that so?”
“Of course.”
You take another sip of your champagne, fully angling yourself toward the Dutch man, looking up through your eyelashes at him. Max isn’t sure on how yet but all he knows is that he won’t let this end, the party he once detested now becoming the most interesting thing he’d entertained in a while.
Max scans his eyes over your figure, gaze catching on a stack of bracelets sitting delicately on your wrist. A charm bracelet lays gently with a stack of bangles on top and, finally, a few ornately stitched thread bracelets are mixed throughout the stack.
“I like your bracelets.”
You perk up at his words, glancing between him and your wrist before lifting your wrist slightly up toward him, “Really? They’re from this brand in Greece! They’re all custom made and personalized however you want them to be.”
Max just watches as you fidget with some of the dangling charms on your bracelet, Max spotting a wave and a bird as they clank against the blue and gold thread of your other bracelet. He listens as you explain the lore behind the stack, a small grin forming as you get lost in your mind.
You’re not sure how long you’re stood there, conversing quietly as the party progresses without you. The sun sets in the time you talk, the only light now being the soft glow that the floating chandeliers cast onto your faces. You’re also not sure on how the topic comes up but you suddenly find yourself discussing your birthdays, Max shocked to find out you have the same one.
“September 30th, yeah?” You ask him, bright eyes widening as he nods. You seem to grin wider at his confirmation, another thing you have in common being added to the ever-growing list, “Any plans?”
Max is suddenly struck with the fact that, for once, he didn’t have any plans for his birthday. It wasn’t a race weekend so Red Bull wouldn’t be doing anything, he was grown enough where his family wouldn’t be organizing anything and this was the first year in a while he didn’t have a girlfriend to at least keep him company. He pauses at the thought, the absolute depressing notion of a thought causing his eyebrows to furrow.
“I guess not, no.”
You seem to catch onto his mental dilemma, gently reaching a hand up to rub small circles onto his shoulder. He tries his best not to move suddenly as your warm hand makes contact. He glances over, sporting the sympathetic smile on your face.
Not wanting to rain on your parade, he really tries to force a smile but it seems to come out as more of a grimace as you pat him, your hand dropping away, “You could always come to my birthday. Landos renting a boat. Id love to have you there.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude or anything-“
You stop him, shaking your head with your persistently charming smile, “Nonsense, it’s a big boat, you wouldn’t be intruding anything. It’s your birthday too!”
He doesn’t seem fully convinced, though, and you roll your eyes, leaning fully toward him. You swing both arms around his neck, hands connected behind him and your body weight now fully leaned against him. Max, not wanting to knock you both over, rests his hands against your waist, hoping to save your balance.
You look up at him, biting your lip to stop the laugh threatening to escape your lips, “If you don’t want to share a birthday party, then I’m cordially inviting you to my birthday party as my friend.”
Max looks down at you, gaze soft as he stares at your gentle and genuine expression. He could tell you weren’t going to let this go, even if he turned down the invitation. So, despite his best judgement, he finds himself nodding as a yes, a grin starting to peak out on his usually stoic face. You laugh happily, leaning out of his grasp to sway merrily.
“I can’t wait to see you there,” you grin at the Red Bull driver, elation seeping into your voice, “Maxie.”
Max groans at the nickname but, for once, maybe feels a little charmed by it as it seems to bring you so much humor. You set your now empty glasses down on a nearby table, leaning forward to grasp Max’ hands in yours and practically tear him away from the spot on the wall he’d taken up for the past few hours. You start to lead him away from his corner of solitude toward the heart of the party which was still beating healthily despite the late hour.
“Come on, let’s dance,” you bounce on your heels excitedly as you pull him along, “You can help me plan what party information to feed Lando over the next few months. He still thinks it’s a surprise party but we live together and he’s anything but subtle.”
Max just smiles, following along behind you as he listens intently to your echoing voice. He sticks close to you, following your every step despite the fact that the idea of dancing at this party made him want to throw up. The idea of doing it with you and being able you hear you talk animatedly for a bit longer making the idea bearable enough for him to endure it. For your sake.
A few months later, Max finds himself on the deck of a yacht, sun shining down brightly onto his shoulders as the deep blue expanse of the Mediterranean stretched out in all directions below him.
He’d seen a good amount of people from the second he’d stepped onto the boat that morning, both people he knew and some he’d never met before. He knew Lando was around somewhere, his loud voice bouncing off the edges of the boat.
He hadn’t seen you yet but he wasn’t completely alone. Lando had taken the liberty of inviting Oscar who’d dragged along Logan, the two blond drivers having been sat on the upper deck since before Max had arrived.
It’s not that Max felt lost but he did feel a bit out of his element. Your friends milled around, wandering throughout the boat, conversations (and alcohol) flowing smoothly.
Just as Max moves to head up to where he’d seen Oscar and Logan hanging around, he’s frozen by the sound of your voice ringing out from a few yards away, “Max!”
Max’s eyes turn toward you, drifting over your body as he takes in the red swimsuit hugging your skin, the fabric the same shade as the red dress you’d worn at the gala all those nights ago.
Sunglasses sit perched on your nose, your hand moving to push the bridge of them back up from where’d they’d starting to slip down. Sunscreen sits atop your sun-kissed skin, casting a soft shining glow as the sunlight bounces off it.
“Hi, y/n,” Max smiles gently at you, still not completely at ease on the boat, “Happy birthday.”
You grin, quirking your head at the driver, “Happy birthday to you too, Maxie. I’m glad you decided to come.”
Max squints slightly as the sun beats down, rays of light sneaking into his unprotected eyes, “I didn’t want to miss your party, Lando even invited me himself.”
You laugh, head dropping back at his words. You both knew Lando was still under the impression that the whole party had been a surprise to you that morning. You were considering a career in acting with how Lando had believed your reaction.
“Well, make yourself comfortable, Landos paying so…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders as you glance around, eyes tracing between the ocean and the sight of your friends lounging around before they land on the bar, drinks already being handed out, “We’ll set off in a few minutes, I think we’re just waiting on one more person.”
Max nods as you continue to look around, his eyes being dragged back to you.
You’re notably missing any jewelry, no doubt not wanting to lose it when you swim later. Max does notice the fresh set of nails you’ve got on, white and gold decorating the ends of your fingers.
You seem to notice Max’s attention on your hands and you grin, lifting your hands toward him, “You like? Got them done yesterday, I was more excited to spend the day with my mom than actually getting the nails. I’d usually get blue but I thought white would match my swimsuit better, you know?”
Max nods, grateful to, once again, hear your joyful rambling, “I like them, they’re really pretty.”
Your face forms into a satisfies smile, glancing over the nails in question before you look back up toward Max, “I’m glad you think so.”
Max smiles his first genuine smile since stepping on the boat, eternally grateful to have you here in front of him. Just as you’re about to say something, your eyes catch on something over Max’s shoulder and your mouth falls closed, a small exhale leaving your mouth as you seemingly hold back a laugh.
“Max!” A voice calls out from behind him. When Max turns, he’s met by the sight of one Daniel Ricciardo bounding down the dock, wearing a giant grin and a familiar burnt orange hat. Max’s eyes widen at the sight of the Aussie as he jumps onto the boat, his toned arm coming to swing around Max’s shoulders.
Daniel looks down at you, a humored smirk on your face, “Hi y/n, happy birthday.”
“Hi Danny,” you hum, looking between the pair of friends.
Daniel looks around, his eyes quickly catching on Lando, no doubt doing something stupid. He pats Max on the shoulder before peeling away, “Happy birthday Maxie, I’ll see you in a minute.”
Daniel bounces away, echoes of Landos name being shouted out of his mouth, the Brit quickly enduring the tackle of the older Aussie. Max laughs as he watches the attack, eyes crinkling and shoulders shaking.
Max looks back toward you when he hears your own melodic laugh ring out beside him, “You invited Daniel?”
You turn your head toward him, smiling shyly as you nod, “It’s your birthday too, didn’t want you to be too lonely.”
Max shakes his head, although he can’t fight the warm laugh that escapes him, already having a better birthday than he’d expected to.
“Now that our final guest is here, we can finally set sail,” you say, walking away from the boats entrance. Max, not entirely sure of where Daniel had gone, decides to follow you.
Max isn’t sure what he’d expected from the party but whatever was currently happening was exceeding that.
With the arrival of Daniel, he was officially friends with over 50% of the guests in attendance. After a few drinks, it was pretty easy for him to befriend your brothers as well, especially when he found out they were both huge sports fans.
As the boat sailed idly around the open water, the party roared smoothly, new and old friendships forging deeper bonds. Music played from the speakers, Landos playlist quickly being switched out for your own.
After a few hours, the boat stopped and Lando was quick to throw himself overboard, his happy shouts echoing as he hurtled toward the water below. He’s followed by Logan who reaches the water with a surprisingly elegant dive, his departure causing a begrudging Oscar to jump after him.
Then comes your brothers, the pair of them roughhousing the second they both come up for air.
You roll your eyes playfully as you watch them all come down, you and Max having been already laid out on the lower deck, the water lapping at the edge of the boat just a few feet away.
You snort as you watch a couple of your own friends push eachother into the water, your head turning back toward the sun above you when you hear the splash of them entering the water.
Your eyes stay closed as the sun shines down on you, the warmth spreading through your skin. Though your eyes do shoot open when you feel water splash over top you and a loud laugh rings out next to you.
Max watches as you sit up, your eyes locking on Daniel who’d just stepped over you in order to cannonball into the ocean, successfully converting both you and Max in the cold water. Max was fighting the urge to laugh, scared he’d end up being pushed in if he laughed too loudly.
You scowl playfully at the Australian who laughs before diving under for a few seconds, shaking his wet hair as he comes up and getting even more water on you.
You stand up, flipping him off before moving to walk away. Max stands up after you as you toss your sunglasses on a nearby couch, “I’m getting a drink, Max.”
Daniel, though, calls out toward Max, happiness coursing through his words, “You coming in, mate?”
Max glances between you and Daniel before quickly taking a few steps to cut in front of you just as your about to enter the heart of the ship.
“Hi, Max,” you smile cheerfully, no idea what was in store for you in the coming moments.
“Forgive me,” Max mumbles as your furrow your eyebrows.
“What?”
Before you can even ask for clarification, Max scoops you up in his arms and starts to walk back toward the water.
“Max!” You laugh loudly, arms threading around the back of his neck and tightening as he jumps off the edge, both of you hitting the cold water shortly after.
He can hear Daniel’s nearby laugh even under the water, the sound coming through muffled as he pushes his way to the air above, your arms still intertwined behind his neck. As soon as he reaches the top, he can hear you laugh freely, the loud noise rivaling the beauty of the sunlight above.
“I hate you,” you quiet a bit as you say it, though there’s no venom behind your words. In fact, there’s a toothy grin on your face, accenting the sight of your wet face, hair now soaked and dripping as you try your best to stay afloat.
The water runs down your skin in rivulets, catching the rays of lights from above as it drips down, causing you to glow more than you already did under the Mediterranean sun.
Max hums, “I don’t think you do.”
You quirk your head, eyes narrowing as you look closely at him, “I don’t.”
“Y/N!” Your lean away from Max as your name is called, your attentions being drawn over to Logan who seemed to be attempting to drown Oscar, the Aussie trying his best to fight back. Max watches as Logan goes to speak again, Oscar successfully managing to get away, “We’re gonna do the jet-skis!”
You push away from Max and start to paddle toward the younger drivers, Oscar having started to attempt his revenge on the American. Logan, though, is unfazed by the shorter driver, turning to tackle him as you make your way over.
Max’s eyes stay on you as you swim away, watching as you intervene in the fight, pulling Oscar away. Max can’t help the dopey smile that forms on his lips.
“You like her,” Daniel sings, swimming his way to where Max is leaning against the edge of the boat.
Max rolls his eyes, the smile dropping off his face, “Shut up.”
The hours pass by, your friends eventually being pulled back onto the boat in order for it to set sail back home again.
You all come back together for dinner, sitting around on the deck as you dine. At one point. Lando pelts Oscar in the face with an empty water bottle. Oscar, who wasn’t looking up when it happened, mistakes the thrower for Logan and decides to start fighting him again, Lando sitting back with a grin on his face.
Now that they don’t have to stay relatively sober in order to swim, drinks flow much quicker.
As the sun sets on the horizon, your friends spread out across the boat, relaxation seeping into their bones, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them.
Max laid out on the lower deck with you, watching as the sky explodes with hues of orange and pink. You both watch the sun lower down, a bottle of champagne laying between you.
Max doesnt think he’d even felt so at peace. Or had such a perfect birthday.
Your peace is interrupted after the sun has fully set, making way for the stars to break through and shine next to the moon above you.
You turn around as you hear a chorus of voices shout loudly, “Happy birthday!”
Your met with Lando standing just a few yards away, a cake held tightly in his hands, a few sparklers and candles sticking out of the top of it.
“Awww,” you laugh, standing up to face your friends, “Please don’t sing.”
This causes a laugh to spread through the group, Lando piping up to respond, “I don’t think that would go very well even if we wanted to.”
You snort, walking over to the cake, looking closely at the words written on top. Max sits back as you walk away from him, standing up after a few moments just to observe.
You look a bit closer at the cake before turning around to face Max again. He raises an eyebrow as you beckon him over, one of your hands swinging out to wave him toward you.
Max isn’t entirely sure why you were interrupting your own candle blowing to call him over but he agrees anyway, making his way to your side.
He glances down at the cake, a grin splitting his face as he reads it.
“Happy Birthday
Max & Y/N”
Max laughs slightly, the alcohol currently coursing through him inhibiting him from feeling any amount of embarrassment at the amount of eyes on him.
You turn and grin at him, the soft light of the candles reflecting off your shining eyes. Even in the dark of the night and with salt water stuck in your hair, Max still thinks you look rather beautiful.
You gesture down at the cake, candles still alight on each half, “You wanna blow out the ones on that side?”
Max doesn’t want to look away from your face but he does eventually manage to pull his eyes away, nodding as he spots the candles. You smile, leaning down toward the cake in Lando’s outstretched hands. Max leans as well, and you both are quick to blow out the candles to the cheers of your friends around you.
Lando walks to put the cake down on a table, leaning over to ask your brother to find the plates and forks. As you move to watch the recording of the small celebration on Logan’s phone, Max walks over to the Brit.
“Thanks for the cake thing,” Max says, picking up an abandoned water bottle and taking a quick swig.
Lando quirks his head, rubbing the back of his neck absently, “Thank y/n, not me. She told me that if I were to, hypothetically, get her a birthday cake, she wanted your name on it as well. All hypothetically of course.”
Max laughs, his face softening when he thinks about your conversation about dropping birthday hints for Lando to pick up on. But from Landos recount, this specific hint was a bit more obvious than the other ones. He turns his head to see you laughing at something Logan had said, Oscar looking closer and closer to sleep as the conversation went on.
Maybe if he’d been completely sober, Max would’ve felt a lot warmer at the thought of you thinking about him even for your own birthday party. But he wasn’t completely sober so the only thought he had when he looked at you was just how pretty you were.
Your brother comes back with plates pretty quickly, Lando cutting pieces in the most even way he can, unceremoniously plopping the largest piece down on your plate with a giggle.
Once everyone’s eaten their cake and properly disposed of their plates, it’s just a waiting game until the boat docks again.
You all lay out on the outer decks of the boat, looking up and watching the stars above you. Max can vaguely hear Daniel’s light snores, signaling the Aussie had fallen asleep from where he laid a few yards away.
Once you do dock, all your friends start to make their way off the boat and back to their own homes. Max watches as Logan carries an inebriated Oscar on his back, the Aussie sporting a brand-new, bright red sunburn on his face.
Lando vaguely follows them, the pair having crashed in his place for the weekend considering neither of them resided in Monaco.
Your brothers take the liberty of waking Daniel up, the driver walking tiredly off the boat.
As the rest of your friends leave, Max is left alone with you on the deck of the boat, the moonlight bouncing off the water and lighting up the space between you.
You’ve got something clutched to your side, Max is too out of it to question it.
“Thank you for inviting me,” Max starts, a genuine smile on his tired features, “I’d probably be sat alone on the sim right now otherwise.”
You laugh, not entirely aware of how much truth there was behind his statement, “I’m glad you came, it was really fun.”
Max hums, an absent smile crossing his face as he gazes softly at yours. He’s too busy looking at you to notice you bring your hand up from your side, a small box clutched in your manicured hands.
“I got you something,” your eyes light up as you push the box toward him, glancing between his face and the small white box, “Happy Birthday, Maxie.”
Max accepts the box, though he shakes his head as he does, “You didn’t have to-“
“No, but I wanted to,” you interrupt quickly, grinning and pushing the box closer to Max’s chest.
Max looks at you for a few seconds longer before glancing down toward the box, his hands moving to open it, the top swinging on its hinge to reveal what’s inside. With the amount of alcohol still in his system, it takes a few tries but he does eventually get it open.
Max freezes as he sees what’s inside.
A bracelet, not unlike one of your own, sits gently in the center of the box. Orange and gold thread twist around to form the circle, the threads shining under the distant street lights. Right where the threads come to an end and meet the clasp, a few small charms are clustered together. Max looks a bit closer at the charms and sees a thirty-three, his initials and, lastly, a small lions head.
When Max doesn’t respond immediately, you seem to assume the worst, words falling out of your mouth in a tipsy ramble as you start to pick at a patch on your skin, “If you don’t like it, that’s fine, really! I should’ve asked. Is it too much? I should’ve done one instead of thirty-three, I’m sorry max-!”
Your voice cuts off abruptly as Max’s hands wrap gently around the side of your face, the bracelet being shoved into his pocket. Your eyes widen under his touch, looking up into his own. Max takes a breath before speaking, liquid confidence fueling his words, “Can I kiss you?”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, seemingly searching for words you cannot find before it ultimately falls shut. You nod your head instead.
Max leans down to capture your lips in his, your hands moving to tug gently at his salty hair. Max grins against your mouth before he dives back in, one of his hands sliding to tug your form closer to his. Max feels almost light-headed, the spark of your lips against his causing his brain to practically short-circuit.
When you split to take a breath, you lean your forehead against his. Max’s opens his eyes to glance warmly at your flushed face. When your eyes fall open and lock on his, you lean away, a loud laugh echoing from your lips.
You gaze over him as he brings you back close to him, your hands clasping behind his neck. Your thumb rubs passive circles on his skin as he goes to speak.
“Thank you,” Max says, bringing your attention back to his face, “For the bracelet. It’s perfect.”
You hum, lips turning up into a blushing smile, “I’m glad you like it.”
Max looks down at you with stars in his eyes, watching the way the moon light shines off the side of your face, your features looking even more striking under night sky, “I do. I really, really do.”
At his words you tug him down toward you, leaning your face up to kiss him again.
Just as your lips brush, a loud voice shouts out from off the boat, “Y/N! We’re leaving! If you don’t come now you’ll have to get your own car!”
You groan loudly, shoulders sagging as you rest your forehead against Max’s chest, eyes locked on the ground. Max has to struggle to hold back his laugh, his teeth sinking into his lip. Watching your despair, Max is struck by an idea.
“You could stay with me?” Max suggests, grinning as your head pops up.
“Could I? I don’t want to deal with Logan and Oscar, especially not while hungover,” you brighten as you ask him.
Max, instead of answering, grabs your hand, pulling you off the boat. You speed up for a few steps in order to fall into his side, his arm coming up to wrap around your shoulder.
As Max leads you up toward the street, you’re met with Lando stood at the open car door, tiredness clear in his stance. If Max were to lean forward, he’d see Oscar and Logan passed out, limbs tangled in the cramped seats.
“You coming then, mate?” Lando asks you, pushing his glasses up on his face. Max isn’t entirely sure why he was still wearing sunglasses in the dark of the night but he chose not to question it.
You flush, leaning into Max’s grasp, “I’m staying with Max.”
Lando smirks, raising his glasses to look between the two of you with a nod, “Don’t have too much fun tonight.”
You roll your eyes, leaning out of Max’s grasp. Max finds himself missing the feeling of your body next to his. He doesn’t have to miss it for too long, though, as after you plant a gentle kiss on Landos cheek, you fall right back into Max’s hold.
“Thank you for the party, Lan. Love you.”
Lando rolls his eyes, sliding his glasses back down his face as he shakes his head, “Yeah, yeah, love you too. I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow, you should bring your boyfriend.”
It Max’s turn to blush, a chuckle leaving his lips. Instead of replying, you both walk away from the Brit, Max laughing loudly when he hears Lando mumble something about “birthday shagging” from behind your backs.
You both continue to walk away, Max bringing you closer to his side and your head falling against his shoulder.
Max leans over to press a kiss to your temple, your skin warm against his lips, “You ready to go home?”
You pause, looking up at Max as he looks down at you. You state warmly up at him for a few moments, simply taking in the look on his face. Your smile widens as your cheeks flush, “I’d love to.”
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Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119
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