#feeling like a burden and unimportant... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

01zfan · 1 year ago

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anything 4 u

brothers bestfriend!sungchan x reader | 9k words

loosely inspired by anything 4 u by LANY. this damn near killed me to write omfg.

contains: arguing, double standards, a little possessive? on both sides, sungchan and the reader are both a little mean. unprotected sex.

anything 4 u: one | two

sungchan was shotaro’s bestfriend. they gravitated towards eachother before they could even walk. home videos showed the two of them crawling side by side as babies.

before you came into the world as shotaro’s sister, sungchan was his first sibling. shotaro was the closest thing sungchan would ever have to a sibling, he was the only child in his house.

“can you stop messing with her, sungchan?”

when you joined the mix, sungchan wasn’t on board. he discovered jealousy as a toddler, having to share shotaro’s attention with this new thing that cried all the time. sungchan didn’t understand what was so interesting about you, why shotaro wanted to spend all of his time watching you be an annoying baby instead of playing outside. sungchan would complain when his bestfriend would drop everything to go to you when you’d cry. sungchan would complain when they couldn’t play rough with you or that you couldn’t play video games. sungchan would go over to shotaro’s house only to find out he was going to be the plus one at your princess tea parties.

sungchan let his jealousy turn to teasing and he became the first and only person to get away with it. shotaro only watched your interactions and laugh, knowing you’d get him back tenfold. by the time both of you were preteens, you and sungchan had built a relationship that bordered bullying. you always made sure to come out on top, only having to tell shotaro that sungchan was bothering you so he could collect his friend.

when you two first became teens, sungchan found himself seeing you in a different light. the teasing had started to become forced on sungchan’s part in an effort to hide his emotions. he was able to convince himself that it was normal to feel that way about you from the proximity of being together and how familiar your personality was. but when sungchan was around you he forgot his words and only received your teases instead of dishing them out the way he used to.

by the time sungchan was about to go off to college, he had started to become protective of you. he tried to make his protectiveness logical, blaming it on the fact that he would be going to school away from his bestfriend, like he was compensating for the future knowing he’d be so far away from his friend. sungchan also blamed it on the fact that no one else seemed to notice you were always texting someone on your phone and you coming to the house late at night. sungchan was basically forced took to bare the burden of being your protector and to stop you from making bad decisions.

when you found out sungchan was no longer the immature boy who pulled your pigtails or stole your toys, you found yourself coming to him more. he was able to give you unbiased opinions, and you could tell him about the crushes or failed relationships that broke your hear. he was a familiar face in your life, one you didn’t mind spilling your heart out to. sungchan had found you a couple times crying your eyes out over something unimportant. sungchan followed the sound of your gentle sobs when you thought you were alone, slowly opening your door telling you everything was going to be okay. each time he was comforting and nonjudgemental, letting you get it all out before helping you find a solution.

the relationship you had with sungchan turned into something strange. you found yourself telling him things you could never tell shotaro or anyone you saw as a brotherly figure. at the same time sungchan didn’t feel like just a friend. there was something more when it came to sungchan, something you tried to ignore. you combated the turbulent emotions it by telling sungchan about all your newest romantic endeavors, hoping that it would make you only see him as a friend.

sungchan found out quickly he couldn’t be someone you came to in relation to boys. you had shown sungchan one too many photos of your direct messages, filled with non-deserving boys trying to get with you. the messages all began the same, all of them acting ignorant to the fact that you were shotaro’s sister, or that sungchan was always near you. too many of the faces and named were familiar, some of them even running in the same social circles as sungchan and shotaro. seeing the messages made his blood boil, causing him to accidentally tell shotaro something he wasn’t supposed to know about.

shotaro was surprisingly calm about the situation. sungchan saw his friend be the calmest he’s ever seen when it came to protecting you. shotaro only tilted his head slightly while asking extremely specific questions. sungchan answered calmly, suddenly embarrassed that he seemed more angry about you seeing guys than your overprotective brother was. when sungchan was done answering shotaro’s questions everything was back to normal. the two continued playing basketball like nothing had happened.

sungchan had almost forgotten what he told shotaro until you came home the next day. the two were playing a game when you stomped through the house screaming their names. sungchan was wide-eyed and shocked, but shotaro was completely calm as he continued to play.

“up here.” shotaro said casually.

sungchan could hear each stomp up the stairs. sungchan had stopped playing, only focused on shotaro’s closed door that he was sure you was going to break down soon.

you came through the door so fast the door hit the wall and recoiled back. shotaro only looked up after he killed sungchan’s character in the fighting game, looking at his door that slammed against the wall.

“mom is gonna kill you.” shotaro said evenly.

“i’m going to kill you!” your wild eyes locked on sungchan’s, and you brought a finger up to point at him. “then i’m going to kill you!” you yelled.

that’s when shotaro got upset and leapt to his friend’s defense. when shotaro stood up and started yelling back at you sungchan was frozen on the bed with his head on a swivel watching the screaming match in front of him. sungchan had no siblings, so he could never understand how you two were going at it so viciously or loudly. what sungchan understood was to keep his mouth shut as you two went at it. he knew better than to interject and become the new target both of you focused on.

so sungchan held his tongue, even when he knew shotaro was acting irrationally. he could tell you knew your brother was being ridiculous by the way you let out a deep breath and pinched the bridge of your nose. before you could argue back sungchan saw you give shotaro a simple smile and a head tilt. it was the same expression shotaro gave sungchan when digging for information about your date.

you said nothing else to shotaro or sungchan. you turned around and left, slamming your door behind you. sungchan looked around shotaro’s room to see his pictures on the wall shake. only a moment passed before shotaro went back to the game like nothing happened. sungchan had to act he didn’t just witness the most brutal screaming match he’s ever seen in his life. sungchan only continued playing on the game with his friend, subtlety trying to sneak looks to your closed bedroom door to see if you would come out.

“she’s going to act out like crazy now.” shotaro said.

sungchan had to pull his attention away from your door to his friend. shotaro tried to remain calm, but he could see his friend was visibly bothered. when the round of fighting was over, shotaro turned off the game and rubbed his temples from the stress.

“you know her top pick for college is the place you’re going to?” shotaro asked.

sungchan was the first one you told when you got accepted.

“i had no idea.” sungchan said, shaking his head.

“can you look out for her when she goes there? just until she finds a group of friends?” shotaro asks.

sungchan knew he should’ve said no. you already had friends and you were going to be an adult soon. sungchan had also promised himself that he would stop doting after you when he would leave for college. the distance would do him some good, maybe he’d finally be able to calm his heart when you came around. you were more than capable of making your own decisions, both sungchan and shotaro knew that. but when shotaro looked to sungchan and told him he’s the only person he could trust, sungchan couldn’t say no.

so when you came to campus a year after sungchan, he did what his friend asked him to. he looked out for you and kept tabs on you through mutual friends. sungchan even found himself at the frat parties you would be at on friday nights under the guise of seeing his friends. he wouldn’t drink, knowing that it would be him guiding you and your drunk friends back to the dorms. he had become your confidant, the incident from highschool long forgotten. you knew now sungchan was looking out for your best interest—the man you were going to see that night wasn’t a good person.

once sungchan found out he was in your good graces again he was wrapped around your finger. he followed you around campus, making sure you got to your classes before he even thought about going to his. he was there for you the moment you called for him, and he found himself taking you anywhere you asked. sungchan put his car to good use, taking you to the store or to pick up food for you. sungchan was able to find an excuse for doting on you, telling himself that it was because he had to look out for you after shotaro asked.

he only told your brother the good things. you were doing great in school, and you had found a good group of friends. sungchan never dared to tell shotaro that you went to parties in cropped shirts and even shorter skirts, that you were seeing boys, or that he was slowly developing feelings for you.

sungchan was determined to play the long game with you. he never made the first move, never even expected you to reciprocate his feelings. sungchan was happy to just be your guardian angel at the frat parties you frequented, or the person you could come to with your problems. sungchan saw himself as such a constant in your life that you didn’t notice his developing feelings. how were you supposed to know he was doting on you when you’ve been doted on your whole life?

it wasn’t until he laid on the floor of your dorm with you that he couldn’t take it anymore. you were in the middle of telling him about your most recent conquest, some random guy who was your partner for an upcoming project. sungchan sat up suddenly, not looking down at you laying next to him as he spoke.

“i don’t think it’s appropriate for you to tell me about the men you’re seeing anymore.” sungchan said.

you sat up too, not used to sungchan putting his foot down or him telling you no.

“why not?” you seemed to think for a second before your mind started filling in the gaps of sungchan’s silence. “did you talk to my brother?” you asked.

he defended himself quickly, shaking his head to show you he was being honest. you visibly calmed down before asking your question again.

“i mean i talk to your brother everyday, but not about who you’re seeing.” sungchan said.

sungchan pulled in a deep breath and let it out. he came clean then and there on the floor of your dorm room. he told you about how shotaro asked him to watch after you when you came to campus and how he enjoyed taking care of you a little too much.

before sungchan could confess his feelings, you did it first. you pulled sungchan in for a big kiss, throwing all of your body weight onto him. he caught you and held you, reciprocating your kisses and smiling when you pulled away. it was wordless your confession, everything communicated through smiles and shining eyes.

from that point on you and sungchan have been in a relationship. everything was the same as usual, except you didn’t go to parties as much and sungchan talked to shotaro a little less. sungchan found it extremely hard to talk to your brother about your life with you in the room. that’s why sungchan was on the phone with his bestfriend now, trying to smack away your teasing and persistent hands that messed with the buttons on his flannel.

“just say you’re busy.” you whisper.

you make sure to say it close enough to the speaker that forces sungchan to crane his body away from you.

“sorry taro i was watching a show. what did you say?” sungchan smiles when he talks to shotaro but turns away from his phone to give you a stern look.

you hold up your hands defensively like you’re doing nothing. when sungchan’s attention goes back to his phone you go back to messing with him, pulling at the end of his flannel and leaning in to kiss his neck.

“one second let me pause the show.” sungchan puts his hand over the speaker of his phone and looks at you. “stop it.” he commands.

sungchan’s eyes are large and indignant, trying to get you to listen to him. you try to take sungchan seriously for his sake but you can’t stop yourself from smiling. sungchan trying to boss you around is when you find him the funniest. your smile only grows when sungchan grips both of your wrists with one hand. even as he holds both of your wrists to keep you away from his body he doesn’t use much strength. it’s all for show, both of you know sungchan would crumble to you immediately if you asked. but you humor him, sitting patiently on his lap while he continues talking on the phone.

sungchan eyes you, still holding your wrists as he listens to shotaro.

“you need me to pick her up?” sungchan looks at you, trying hard to pretend like you’re not in the room.

“that fancy italian place? no i haven’t been.” sungchan looks at you again when you make a tiny ooh sound. “i don’t know if she’s been shotaro. how am i supposed to know that?” sungchan says.

“okay. we will meet you there at 6:30.” when sungchan sees you shake your head he stops shotaro mid sentence. “actually does 7:30—” sungchan checks your expression and when you give him a thumbs up he nods his head. “does 7:30 work instead?” he asks.

you still sit on sungchan’s lap, messing with the bottom of his flannel as he gets confirmation from shotaro.

“okay. see you then.”

when sungchan hangs up his phone you let your hands go underneath his shirt. he lets out a sigh of relief from being off the phone while you draw your breath in. sungchan is solid underneath your fingers, and so warm you find yourself wrapping your arms around his bare waist.

your chest is pressed against sungchan’s when he brings his arms around you too. he kisses the top of your forehead, letting a sigh slip from his lips again.

“we almost got caught.” sungchan says quietly.

“no we didn’t.” you say

you were the complete opposite to sungchan in regards to shotaro. sungchan didn’t know how you weren’t constantly panicking at the thought of shotaro finding out. sungchan knew shotaro well, and he knew that he did not play when it came to you. sungchan’s stomach dropped at the thought of shotaro finding out about the two of you. the betrayal and anger that would cross shotaro’s face winded sungchan. he couldn’t stop thinking about every single terrible outcome possible as the two of you got ready to meet shotaro for dinner. sungchan found himself not saying a word the entire car ride to the restaurant, mentally practicing how he was going to talk to you with your brother around. sungchan put his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for your hand, and he walked in front of you to stop his mind from subconsciously trailing close behind you.

when you and sungchan met shotaro in front of the restaurant, shotaro went to hug you first. whatever playful teasing was happening was lost on sungchan, he was too busy overthinking how close he might’ve been to you. he looked at your hand twitch in between the space of your two bodies. he casually moved, afraid that you were going to grab his hand in front of shotaro. he felt the side eye from you and the confused look on shotaro’s face before he brought sungchan in for a hug.

sungchan was so focused on trying to remain as neutral as possible that the night went by him in a blur. you filled in the silence or the awkward gaps in the conversation that were a result of sungchan not listening. he was grateful for your easygoing personality, but sungchan found himself tipping his head occasionally at you, surprised you weren’t nearly as effected as he was. you were the same version of yourself, no pauses in your words or shrugging your shoulders in confusion. the only reprieve sungchan got from conversation was when the food arrived.

“i hope you guys enjoy the food.” sungchan watched the waitress smile to you and shotaro, both of you nodding your heads the same way. when the waitress got to sungchan she put a hand on his shoulder and pointed at the food on his dish. sungchan’s eyes snapped up to hers as she pointed at the plate. “i put a little extra on your plate for you.” she said, smiling at sungchan.

before sungchan could say anything the waitress was gone. he was left with the with an extra serving of food on his plate with you and your brother staring at him. shotaro had a facetious smile on his face as he continued eating his food—you looked at sungchan with wide eyes and a straight face. he couldn’t stop his face from feeling hot, trying to play off the very obvious flirting.

“she must’ve seen how tall i am.” sungchan laughed nervously, trying to find a reason for the extra food.

“oh she must’ve.” you scoffed.

shotaro didn’t pick up on the nuance in your voice, how annoyed you sounded. he only laughed, focusing on the attention that sungchan was getting.

“you’re all red in the face.” shotaro teased.

“no i’m not.” sungchan said back.

sungchan felt like his face was on fire as he could see you progressively get more and more upset. sungchan silently wished for his friend to be quiet, to stop digging sungchan into a hole he couldn’t get out of. the more shotaro talked the more annoyed you became, by the time the waitress came back with the check you were clenching your jaw, wordlessly pushing food around on your plate with your fork. even when the conversation shifted to sungchan catching up with shotaro, you were completely silent. sungchan wordlessly took the initiative to fill in the gaps in the conversation with questions about shotaro’s studies, or how he was adjusting to being away from home. you barely contributed to the conversation, never reacting to sungchan’s quick glances to you when shotaro was occupied with his food.

you knew that sungchan could tell you were pissed off. the way he would shake his head profusely anytime shotaro brought up the waitress made you blood boil and when he stole quick glances you felt like rolling your eyes. you couldn’t stop thinking about the waitress and the way her eyes lingered, or how she gave sungchan nearly double his serving of food. everything was too obvious, right in sungchan’s face and he actively denied it. he was denying everything for your sake, but you had eyes of your own to see the scene laid out in front of you. you never considered yourself to be the possessive type—you never had to be. arguably the only positive effect of being spoiled was that you never had to greedy or clinging—you never had demand for something if it was handed to you without having to say a word.

but you had a mean streak when it came to sungchan. he knew it too. he knew that you never had something not go your way. he knew you always got what “rightfully” belonged to you and never settled for anything less. but here sungchan was, blushing and shaking his head bashfully while a waitress blatantly flirted with him in front of you. a voice in the back of your mind that you’ve never heard whispered to you that sungchan liked the attention. the thought made bile brew in your stomach and the anger almost pushed you to stab your fork through the plate in front of you.

“i think we should get the check.” sungchan looked at you pushing food across your plate, a majority of it was untouched. he could see your jaw clenching and he could feel your legs becoming restless underneath the table. “it’s getting kinda late. i have a class early in the morning.” sungchan says to shotaro.

sungchan almost feels bad seeing the confusion flash across shotaro’s face, but he knows it’s time to go. sungchan was unsure how much time he had left in this restaurant before the hole he accidentally dug himself into was too deep. shotaro understood, motioning for the check to the waitress. sungchan ducked his head when he felt her gaze on him. unfortunately for sungchan you saw it all, following the waitresses line of sight straight to the side of his head.

sungchan couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze while the check came. he focused solely on shotaro, head resting on top of his clasped hands as his own legs started becoming restless. when the waitress placed the check between shotaro and sungchan, sungchan failed at snatching the paper before shotaro could. his eyes glossed over the prices of the dishes, instead focusing on the tiny note written at the bottom. shotaro elbowed sungchan playfully, and sungchan tried to telepathically get shotaro to not say anything else.

“sungchan, she left her name and number on the receipt for you.” shotaro whispered to sungchan.

shotaro was amused by the sight, showing the paper to sungchan. before shotaro could show the receipt to you sungchan quickly snatched it from his hands. shotaro let out a small sound of surprise, raising his eyebrows comically when sungchan shook his head.

“she handed the receipt to you, so it must’ve been for you.” sungchan said quickly.

shotaro shook his head and you were so close to losing it you smiled and laughed to yourself briefly. never in your life would you have thought you’d be in this situation. you felt insane and sungchan quickly put his card in the folder to pay. he pulled out cash to tip instead, too afraid to take the pen to the paper.

“she was definitely flirting with you.” shotaro said when the waitress circled back around to collect the form of payment. “i mean look at how much food she gave you.” shotaro continues.

“it wasn’t very good though,” sungchan looks to you legs crossed in the seat, eyes wandering around the dining area apathetically. “right?” sungchan asks you.

you only shrug your shoulders, letting out a sigh as you scratch at your scalp. sungchan turns to your brother, not reacting to your extremely obvious annoyance. shotaro only focuses on sungchan, side-eyeing him when the waitress comes back. when sungchan sees you looking away he puts up his hands frantically motioning him to stop. when you look back to sungchan, shotaro gives him an extremely obvious wink. sungchan sighs and puts his reddening face in his hands.

“hope to see you guys again!” the waitress calls after the three of you while you walk to the door.

“you will!” shotaro says playfully.

sungchan continues to walk, speeding up to try to make it to the door of the restaurant before you can. before sungchan can open the door for you, another man beats him to it. the biggest smile you’ve had all day adorns your face, and your eyes do a quick look up and down of the man holding the door open as sungchan stands directly behind you.

“thank you.” you say.

your voice is saccharine, and your eyes invite the man to look you up and down the same way. the man doesn’t spare sungchan a glance as your face takes up the lens of his sunglasses.

“you’re welcome.” the man says back.

the moment is quick, flying past shotaro as he falls behind sungchan. however sungchan freezes in front of the door then and there, replaying the moment in his mind. the candied looks and the complete turn in your mood at the drop of a hat. the honeyed look the man got is nothing like the glares sungchan got all night, and the sweet demeanor is nothing like the closed off girl that stands in front of the restaurant looking back at sungchan in annoyance. shotaro bumps into sungchan, complaining about him stopping the flow of traffic. sungchan ignores his friend, letting the quick burst of jealousy fire off in his brain. it intensifies and mellows out at the same time as sungchan clenches his fists, following shotaro as he brings you in fro a hug.

sungchan can still see the unmistakable sour look on your face soften for the second time, your previously crossed arms open to hug shotaro back. the straps of your purse are still caught in your white knuckle grip, and you purposely avoid looking at sungchan as shotaro sways you back and forth. sungchan turns his head to face the night breeze, maybe the calm weather could calm him down.

“what are your plans for the rest of the night?” shotaro asks.

sungchan looks to you as you answer the question. he can see the gears in your mind turn, and he swears he can see the smallest smile flash across your face before your lips turn to a pout.

“i’m tired. i wanna to go back to campus.” you complain.

“what’s wrong?” shotaro stops in the middle of the parking lot, putting his hand to your forehead to check for your temperature. “are you feeling sick?”

sungchan has to remain benevolent, acting like he doesn’t feel your piercing gaze as look directly at him.

“i’m feeling very sick.” you put your hand over your stomach. “like i might throw up, actually.” you say.

shotaro is instantly worried, asking about food poisoning and asking you if anything tasted bad. sungchan looks at you making a scene in front of your brother, indirectly complaining about something sungchan couldn’t control. sungchan was able to be calm and levelheaded when it came to you, but sometimes your spoiled attitude cut through the patience. the way you looked to your brother with fake pain made sungchan scoff out loud.

“dramatic.” sungchan said under his breath.

you smiled to yourself when shotaro snapped his head to face sungchan.

“look who’s talking.” you sneer.

sungchan felt like he was a kid again, rolling his eyes and stomping his feet at shotaro babying you. maybe sungchan was jealous that he couldn’t be the one doting after you, holding your purse in one hand while checking your temperature with the other. but he put himself in the position of being only your brothers annoyed bestfriend, so he was going to act like it.

shotaro played his role well too, stopping the two of you before you could start bickering. shotaro looked between the two of you, stern as he told sungchan to take you back to campus. sungchan fake protested—all three of you knew it was just for show. sungchan only crossed his arms across his chest before nodding his head silently. shotaro smiled and pinched his sungchan’s cheek, talking about how good of a friend he is.

“i gotta start driving back now before it gets too late.” shotaro says.

he hugs both you and sungchan, hoping that you feel better after a long rest. sungchan has to convince shotaro you’ll be alright, going the extra step to say he’ll pick you up medicine from the store if you still feel sick. shotaro thanks his friend before pulling him in for another hug. you two walk shotaro to his car to send him off.

“drive safe.” you say to shotaro.

“text me when you get home!” sungchan tells shotaro before he shuts the door.

both you and sungchan wave shotaro off as he backs out of the parking spot. you continue to wave, even long after his car disappears down the road.

almost immediately, sungchan tries to put a cautious arm around you. you look up at sungchan with your meanest look, shrugging his hand off your body as you start walking towards his car.

you can hear sungchan sigh as he starts to follow behind you, still keeping a hand close to your back incase you stumble in your heels. you looked uncomfortable in them the whole night. if you would’ve let sungchan he would’ve gladly picked you up and carried you to the car. he still opens the door for you despite you trying to beat him to it, and you have to pull the seatbelt from sungchan’s hands to stop him from buckling you in.

when sungchan gets in the car and puts the key in the ignition, neither of you say a word. you hope that sungchan doesn’t speak before you have the chance to calm yourself down. you close your eyes, to try and muster up the last bit of understanding in your body to not snap at your boyfriend. when you close your eyes all you can see is the waitress, how she flirted with sungchan and he did nothing to stop it.

when sungchan doesn’t pull out of the parking spot you open your eyes. when you hear him pull his keys from the ignition you start to get irritated. when sungchan clears his throat, you practically have smoke coming from your ears.

“it’s not my fault a girl flirts with me.” sungchan says.

your eyes widen, indignation across your face.

“it actually is your fault.” you say.

now it’s sungchan’s turn to look upset, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you confused.

“what did you want me to do?” sungchan asks.

“maybe not pretend like you don’t notice? she was practically fucking you in front of me.” your voice starts bouncing off of the walls in the car.

sungchan’s eyes go wide and he laughs in shock, mouth open in amusement at your dramatics.

“you know you’re being ridiculous.” sungchan laughs.

hearing sungchan call you ridiculous makes the remaining bits of your patience crumble. before you know it you’re pointing an accusatory finger in sungchan’s face, your manicured nail almost poking his nose.

“you’re the one that won’t even tell my brother we’re dating!” you yell.

“he’s my bestfriend!” sungchan says, raising his hands in defense.

“but you’re my boyfriend!” you draw your hand back,fingers flat agaisnt your palm as you feel the car heating up. “what if i flirted with a waiter or went out with the guys shotaro has tried to hook me up with?”

you point is proven when sungchan has a visible reaction. he can’t help it, the way his eyes close and his mouth dips in disgust. he didn’t even realize he reacted until you pointed your whole hand at him.

“so that’s what’s ridiculous.” you say.

when sungchan says nothing back, your anger starts dipping. it turns into defeat, and the adrenaline leaving your body at such a fast rate causes you to you lean against your seat. you’re defeated, between the dinner and your unregulated emotions getting the best of you, you’re suddenly exhausted. you only lean your head against the window, staring outside as you feel the stone forming in your throat.

“just take me home, sungchan.” you say quietly.

he hears you clearly, putting his keys back in the ignition before silently pulling out of the parking lot.

the drive back home is silent. songs play from the speakers of sungchan’s car, many of them are songs that remind him of you. he feels sick seeing you upset, leaning your head against the window not saying a word to him. you won’t even look at him, your eyes trained on passing building and stoplights. sungchan almost wishes that you’d yell at him, that you would let it all out. but he only continues to drive, the hand that would usually be on your thigh grips the steering wheel hard.

the closer sungchan got to campus, the more he felt that sinking feeling in his stomach. his mind went to the worst possibilities—you calling it off or making him choose between you and shotaro. when sungchan pulled in his reserved parking spot, he felt like he was going to be sick himself.

sungchan didn’t know that the sick feeling in your stomach dissipated a long time ago. the migraine you got from your frustrations melted and traveled to your stomach, making your whole body feel warm. you didn’t know what to do with the jealousy and the possessiveness you felt for the first time tonight. when you noticed the empty spaces in the parking lot of students that went home for the break your mind started to wander. the feeling in your stomach turned to something that churned and pulled you towards sungchan when you noticed the deep tint of his windows.

sungchan was too busy turning the engine off, trying to figure out how to get you to speak to him. he turned his key, hand still on the ignition as he turned to you.

“and what about you,” sungchan looks over to you. “treating shotaro like an attack dog still after all these years.” he says.

sungchan watches you take in his words through one ear just for them to fall out of the other. you’re spoiled and can never admit when you’re wrong. it’s shotaro’s doing but sungchan is no better, your attitude comes from years of everyone around you giving you what you want. sungchan remains steadfast, refusing to back down to your irrational anger. but he doesn’t see the anger in your eyes when you look to him. he sees a playful glint, and he feels your eyes look him up and down. sungchan subconsciously straightens his posture, letting silence fill the car again.

you mess with the locks on sungchan’s door, slowly switching back and forth. the sound makes sungchan feel uneasy, how slow and constant it is as you very clearly think about something. he remains still in the drivers seat, trying to not falter. sungchan only lasts a second before looking back to you and clearing his throat.

“you’re really just not going to say anything?” sungchan asks.

sungchan feels the hair on the back of his neck raise when he sees the smile on your lips.

“get in the backseat.” you said from your spot.

sungchan remains still, looking to you in disbelief. at a time like this, in the middle of a fight in the student parking.

“we need to talk about this.” he says.

sungchan believes that he still has authority. he can be mean when he has to be. although sungchan’s sternness is fleeting he believes that he can channel it when necessary. but the way you look at him with glossy puppy eyes reminds him why you’re so so spoiled

“can’t we talk in the backseat?” you pout.

sungchan wasted no time, barely looking at the mostly empty parking lot as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. he pulled on the backdoor handle twice impatiently, waiting for his car to automatically unlock.

when his car finally decided to listen, he clambered into the backseat, laying across the cushions like he has so many times before. when your relationship was new and your roommates were nosy, the only option you guys had was the backseat of his car. what was awkward at first turned to second nature, and then it became a rarity when sungchan got his own place. but now here he was, shirtless waiting for you in the backseat like old times. the only difference was that you stayed in the front instead of clambering over the seats impatiently to follow after him. sungchan looked to the back of your seat, already feeling an ache in his pants from the anticipation and tension from the night.

“babe?” sungchan called out.

you moved in the front seat, causing the car to slightly shake. sungchan was filled to the brim with excitement, reaching for the button on his pants to push his jeans down. when his jeans were pushed down to his thigh he saw your pretty manicured hand—paid by him—reach to to the backseat. your panties hung by the end of your nail, dangling in the space by sungchan’s face. before they could fall to the floor he grabbed it a little too quickly, balling it up in his hand and bringing it to his face.

although he couldn’t see you he could hear you scoff and say some degrading word that made him twitch in his pants.

sungchan wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was nasty when it came to you. he liked licking his cum off your body to clean you up. he liked pulling you up after you sucked his dick and tasting himself on your lips. he liked making a mess of you when you were together, and he liked stealing your panties when you weren’t looking to keep them for himself. he liked smelling you after a long day after work, taking in big huffs of you as you bashfully hit his shoulders. he liked rutting his dick pathetically against your body. he liked doing those things because when he did it you’d look at him with that almost disgusted glint in your eye and call him a freak. he wore it like a badge of honor. he was a freak for you and you alone—your freak. so when he heard his title fall from your lips, all he could do was nod his head. you finally came into his view, body hunched as you made your way over the center console.

sungchan reached his hands out to help you, one hand still holding your bunched panties. he clutched the fabric a little tighter when you declined his help.

you sat on the other side of the car, completely silent. sungchan could feel his pupils shake. he swallowed thickly as he waited for your next move.

“are you going to keep those for yourself?” you mocked.

sungchan nodded, realizing he couldn’t see the disgusted look in your eyes well enough. he stretched to turn on the light in the backseat, illuminating the space. he could see your foot propped on the seat while the other was planted on the floor. your legs being spread gave sungchan an almost clear view of your cunt, only obstructed by the fabric of your dress that laid between your legs. sungchan squeezed your panties in his hand while licking his lips.

“come over here, princess.” sungchan said.

sungchan settled against the door and spread his legs, trying to look as inviting to you as possible. he even went the extra mile to throw in your nickname, one that he used to tease you with until you would raising your voice at him. you thought about it, eyes raking down his body before you shook your head.

“i don’t think you deserve it.” you say simply.

while sungchan shifted in his seat abruptly, you were calm and collected. you started by slowly working your hands from your knees. sungchan clenches his hands at his side, seeing you tease yourself the same way he always does. when you reached the ends of your dress you teasingly lifted it up, giving sungchan a quick peak of you. when he reached forward to touch your inner thigh you smacked his hand. the sound of you disciplining him echoed off the walls of the car. sungchan recoiled and audibly whined before going back to leaning against the door.

“what’s gotten into you?” sungchan said.

you always had the habit of bossing sungchan around, it’s been that way since you both were young. but the one time you were obedient and listened to what sungchan told you and pliant in taking whatever he gave you was during sex. the two of you came to the agreement that sungchan was more than capable of taking care of the both of you, because his pleasure was entirely too dependent on yours. he liked seeing you get weak underneath him and he liked having to take you the rest of the way when your body failed you.

but this was different.

you had told sungchan so many times breathlessly that you liked when he grabbed you, you liked seeing how you seemed to fit perfectly in the palm of his hand, even if your flesh spilled out between his fingers. sungchan has seen your eyes screw shut from pleasure because of touches that were light as a feather. so sungchan had no idea why you were denying yourself the pleasure of being touched by him. he was forced to watch you sit across from him as you lifted up the bottom of your dress. you subjected him to watching you slip a small finger into your cunt, forcing him to see and hear you whine from frustration when you realized it wasn’t enough.

“i told you that you don’t deserve it.” you added another finger, and sungchan watched you try and bend your fingers the same way he did when he was inside of you. “you don’t even act like my boyfriend.” you pouted.

sungchan kept his hands tucked underneath his thighs, nails digging into his skin. he shook his head like an idiot when he saw your mind try to comprehend why you weren’t getting what you wanted.

“i’m your boyfriend baby, i promise.” sungchan squeezed your balled up underwear in his hand as you unskillfully fingered yourself. “touch your clit too.” sungchan said, nearly drooling.

you snapped out of your haze instantly. sungchan’s eyes that were honed in on your cunt went to you face. when he saw your narrowed eyes he showed apology immediately through his widened eyes. when he saw that you stopped fingering yourself completely he felt his heart drop, and when you pulled your fingers from yourself he pouted deeply.

“i know how to masturbate, you fucking idiot.” you seethed. your tone was harsh but your body shook, the after waves of pleasure running through you.

sungchan nods quickly, biting his lip at your insult. the way your words cut through him with the airy tilt from stimulation has sungchan aching in his pants. he presses against the fabric of his underwear, he has to shift and move his jeans down his leg further to allow for more space.

“i’m sorry baby. i just want to help.” he apologizes.

you go back to your show, smiling at your pliant boyfriend. the one who was so adamant about standing up for his wrong opinion was malleable before you, doing anything you wanted with just a simple look. all you had to do was press your finger to your clit and look to sungchan’s bare thigh before he was hastily pushing his jeans down his legs. when you opened your legs a little wider sungchan nearly tripped over himself to put hands on your body.

sungchan saw every part of you call to him—your chest that moved in tandem with your body, the dip of your hips that always allowed sungchan to have a perfect grip of you. even your eyes called to him, blown out with want and your cheeks begged to be touched. sungchan covered the expanse of your body in seconds, gasping and clutching at anything as you continued touching yourself. sungchan pressed wet kisses to your neck, trailing all the way up until he got to your ear. you loved when he did that, shivering with each kiss pressed to your skin.

“you’re mine right?” you whimpered.

sungchan pulled away to look you in your eyes. his hand tilted your chin and kept it in place when you tried to turn away. he saw your eyes almost gloss over when his hold on your face tightened.

“yes.” he said.

sungchan’s voice was no longer desperate, no longer apologetic or looking for approval as his other hand started trailing towards your cunt. you had taken your hand away from your core completely, one hand already holding the back of the driver seat for stability.

“you’re mine.” sungchan said.

sungchan reveled in you passing the baton to him as you dumbly nodded your head. you went back to being his princess, batting your long eyelashes as you blinked away tears. your soft pretty hand from never working a day in your life went over sungchan’s large hand, slowly guiding him to your center. your plush lips almost mouthed please as sungchan just let his hand rest there, unmoving.

sungchan smiled in your face, reveling in the defeated look. all the anger was just a show, you were now desperate and nearly begging for what you wanted. this was nothing like the girl who had people submit to her like it was nothing.

“you really don’t know what to do when you don’t get what you want, huh?” sungchan cooed at you, tapping on your cheek as his other hand on your center didn’t move.

you nod your head before shaking it, hesitating before you see sungchan’s smile get bigger. he cups his hand around your head, and you pitch your hips forward slightly to get closer.

“you just get mad and hope for the best, don’t you?” sungchan asks.

you nod again, and you continue nodding until sungchan slips his middle finger and ring finger into your heat. your eyes close and your hand goes to sungchan’s hand that still holds your face. he doesn’t stop pumping into your heat, looking down at your furrowed eyebrows and your wobbling legs. he slides in so easily, and he can see how pitiful you are so clearly from up here. sungchan taps your lip with his finger. you part your lips so sungchan can lick them, and you open wider so he can slip his tongue into your mouth. you whine instantly, bringing both hands to grip sungchan’s shoulders. you tilt your head to give him a better angle, even if it sacrifices your own comfort.

he picks up the pace of your fingers, just to feel how you fall behind his kisses. sungchan pulls away, purposely letting spit dribble from the corner of your lips.

“you’re so spoiled.” sungchan says amazed.

“it’s your fault. you always give me everything i want.” you say nearly breathless.

you have a small smile as you struggle to open your eyes. when you finally do, sungchan picks up the speed to wipe the smug look off your face. you’re a mess all over again, mouth opening while pitiful high-pitched whimpers fall from your lips.

before you can tell sungchan you’re close he speaks first.

“i don’t think you deserve to cum.” he says mockingly.

instantly your eyes open, tears threatening to spill at the denial of something so sweet. sungchan only watches you in amusement, still trying to decide your fate.

“you want me to give it to you?” sungchan asks.

you nod, hands reaching down to pull at the elastic of his underwear. sungchan smiles, pulling away from you to free his dick from his pants. you pull your legs from the center console, tucking them underneath you while you wait for sungchan to give you what you want. with your underwear still balled in his hands he beckons to you, spreading out his naked body like he’s your new seat.

you close the small space quickly, pushing your face into sungchan’s. it’s rushed, you miss a beat when he smiles against your lips at your desperation. he guides your hips to straddle his, and you put your hand against the fogging window as the other rests in the crook of his neck.

when you pull apart sungchan bunches your dress at your hips, exposing your lower half to him. he looks down before letting a glob of spit land on his heavy dick. it’s against his stomach, occasionally twitching upwards when you dig your nails into his skin. his hand goes to his dick, mixing the spit and precum down his shaft as lubrication. his other hand guides your hips forward until you hover above him. you pull in a gasp in anticipation.

“ready?” sungchan asks, smile on his lips.

before you can say yes, sungchan slides you down on his dick. he stretched you out, this new angle in the cramped space causes your body to seize before relaxing. sungchan hisses as he finishes sliding in. your head goes to the crook of his neck, whimpering at his pulsing dick buried deep in you. sungchan’s face is void of pity as he drags your body up to make you take him all again. you do nothing but whine and moan pitifully into sungchan’s neck, sucking on his skin to satisfy your oral fixation. sungchan takes your hand that presses against the window to pull it behind your back. lack of stability causing you to lean more into him, and takes away any attempt you could make at pulling yourself up from sungchan.

“you like it?” sungchan pulls your body up before bringing you down harder. “when i tell you that you belong to me?” sungchan whispers into your ear.

his voice is strained, holding back grunts from the way your walls squeeze around him and pull him in.

“i do.” you whine.

sungchan lets go of your hand but you keep it there, placing it on his thigh to try and hold your body up. sungchan thrusts up into you quickly at your suspended state, completely changing the pace he had set. you dig your nails into his flexed thigh as a result. he watches your chest bounce in the confines of your dress. part of him wants to rip it off of you, but a bigger part of him wants to keep you completely covered in case someone catches you two out here. sungchan refused to have too much of you exposed in public, seeing your body in all its naked glory was reserved for him and him alone.

“this pussy belongs to me.” sungchan presses his finger to your clit, and your body curls into him even further. you’re a whining mess, letting yes repeatedly fall from your lips when sungchan rubbing revolutions on your bundle of nerves. “you don't even treat her right.” he scoffs.

“please give it me sungchan.” youpull away from the crook of his neck to reveal your tear tracks, wet and shimmering down the sides of your face.

sungchan tried his best to remain mean. but seeing your glossy self-bitten lips and your wet face softened sungchan. he still snapped his hips up into you that caused your chest to jump and his car to shake, but he cooed at your pitiful face and kissed your salty tears before swiping them away with his thumb. he kissed your forehead and wrapped an arm around your back underneath your arm to bring your chest close to his.

“anything for you, baby.” he moaned quietly.

sungchan’s voice was gentle with you, but the change in the way he fucked you was not. suddenly the arm wrapped around your back pulled you up and he snaked his arm underneath your leg to hike it up. he lifted your body with small grunts to bring you down harshly, making you cry out loud. crescent moons were digging into sungchan’s skin and you could feel your nails bending from the pressure. the sound of your hips coming down on sungchan’s filled the car, mixed with moans he finally let slip from his lips. you were both getting high off of getting fucked, your walls clamped around his dick in a vice grip that had sungchan cursing your name. how could he not give you everything you wanted while you felt like this inside. you both looked down where you two met, watching sungchan disappear inside of you to hit deep in your stomach. he looked up at you, blowing a piece of hair from his line of sight.

“look at me.” sungchan grunted in between thrusts.

you listened immediately, eyes glazing over as you got close to your peak again.

“you’re gonna cum just for me?” sungchan asked.

you nodded, words fractured anytime you tried to speak.

“so close.” you stuttered.

“i can tell.” sungchan said knowingly.

“cum—” you stopped mid sentence to lean into sungchan’s chest. you looked up at him from your place on his chest and he looked down at you, eyes full of love as he watched you become more and more undown. your walls held him a little tighter when he tried lifting you. “cum inside. all yours.” you babbled.

that was all sungchan needed to hear. he pulled you down one last time, gridning his hips against yours to stimulate your clit. sungchan’s eyes looked everywhere, and felt your drool on his chest as you slapped his thigh. it was always a telltale sign for you, trying to relieve your tension. sungchan grabbed your hand to limit the movement and continued moving his hips.

you let out one final cry before arching your back against sungchan’s chest, and he held you in place. you squeezed around him over and over, milking his dick until he had no more left to give you. your wet walls still pulsed, so much that sungchan could feel his cum seeping out past his dick. you went completely limp against him, your loud cries turning into soft whimpers as your body started shaking. if sungchan touched you, you whined, and when he didn’t touch you you pressed your chest closer to his. it was a game sungchan didn’t want to win.

“i really always do give you what you want.” sungchan said.

it was a quiet revelation, one you had a long time ago back when you two were kids fighting over pointless things.

“yeah. you do.”

#requestz #seriez: anything 4 u #01zfan: sungchan #sungchan smut #riize smut

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daisymbin · 8 months ago

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hiii!! can I get request #25 angst with wonwoo? thank you so much!! btw you're such an amazing writer 🩷🩷

thank you cutie!!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

angst prompt #25: "how could you keep this from me?"

you were sitting on the couch when you heard the front door slam open, followed by hurried footsteps. your heart skipped a beat as you froze, your mind struggling to make sense of the situation. wonwoo. he was supposed to be gone for another two weeks—why was he back so early?

there he was, standing in the doorway with a look of frantic concern etched across his face. his eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on you, sitting there in the dim light, a bandage wrapped around your arm.

“what happened to your arm?” his voice cracked slightly as he stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you looked up at him, startled by his sudden arrival, and the guilt hit you like a wave. "wonwoo, i—" you began, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

he took a few steps closer, his eyes full of hurt and confusion. “jeonghan told me,” he said, voice steady but filled with an edge. “he said he drove you to the hospital earlier this week. why didn’t you tell me?”

you winced as you shifted slightly, the pain from your fractured arm a dull reminder of what you’d been trying to hide. “it’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just a little fall. it wasn’t worth worrying you over.”

wonwoo’s face hardened, his jaw clenching. “a little fall?” his voice was low, but there was an underlying anger in it. “you’re telling me that you—you—broke your arm and didn’t think it was worth telling me?”

you swallowed, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill. you hadn’t meant to upset him, hadn’t meant to make him feel this way. but now, with him standing here, looking at you with that hurt expression, it felt like the world was crashing down.

"wonwoo, i didn’t want to make you worry," you said softly, voice trembling. "you were already so busy with work. you had so much to focus on. i didn’t want to add to it."

wonwoo shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "are you serious?" he asked, his voice rising. "do you really think that’s how this works? that i’d rather not know? that you’d rather handle something this big on your own?"

you flinched at his tone, the sting of his words sinking deep. "i didn’t think it was that big a de," you whispered, guilt washing over you. "it was just a stupid mistake. a fall."

"it’s not about the fall," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and anger. "it’s about you thinking you had to handle it alone. alone, when you know i’m always here for you. do you really think i wouldn’t care about something like this? that i wouldn’t want to be there for you? how could you keep this from me?"

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you looked down at your bandaged arm, guilt gnawing at your insides. you didn’t want to make him feel left out or unimportant.

"wonwoo, i didn’t want to burden you," you murmured. "i didn’t want you to feel like you had to drop everything just because of something small. you’ve been so focused on your work, and i didn’t want to be the reason you had to come back early."

he stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. for a moment, the anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by an overwhelming sense of disappointment. “you think this is a burden? that me being there for you would be a burden?” his voice was softer now, though the hurt was still evident in every word.

you met his gaze, your own eyes filled with regret. "i just thought i could handle it on my own."

wonwoo stepped closer, his expression softening, but there was still a trace of sadness in his eyes. "but you’re not alone," he said quietly, almost like a plea. "you don’t have to handle everything by yourself. not when you’ve got me. and you especially don’t have to keep things like this from me."

the words hit you hard, like a punch to the gut. you hadn’t realized until now just how much he must’ve been worrying about you, even while he was away. he wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your partner, your best friend, and you’d shut him out when he should’ve been the first person you turned to.

"i’m sorry," you whispered, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. "i just didn’t know how to tell you. i didn’t know if you’d think i was being dramatic or if you’d blame yourself for not being here."

wonwoo sighed deeply, stepping closer to you, his hand gently resting on your uninjured shoulder. "don’t apologize," he said softly. "i’m just... i’m just hurt that you thought you had to hide it from me. you should’ve told me. you should’ve trusted me with it."

you nodded, wiping your eyes quickly. "i know. i know i should’ve. i just... i didn’t want to worry you."

he gave you a small, almost sad smile. "i’d rather you tell me, even if it’s something small to you. because to me, nothing you go through is small."

for a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything between you settling in the silence. there was no easy way to fix the hurt you’d caused, but you knew one thing—next time, you wouldn’t keep anything from him.

"i’m sorry," you said again, your voice quieter this time.

wonwoo sighed, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "you don’t have to keep apologizing," he murmured. "just promise me you’ll tell me next time."

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the guilt. "next time," you promised.

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shariasweet · 2 months ago

Text

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝑃ro𝓜𝐢s𝑒

l.heeseung 𝒙 f.reader

𝓦c ::: 1.5k 𐙚𝓢harinote ::: hello!! i'm back :) thank you all sososo much for 1k! i might possibly have an event but i'm not sure yet... while thinking on it, though, I wrote this. so enjoy!! 𐙚 warnin𝓰.ᐟ ::: miscommunication (kinda) · edging · overstimulation (?) · pet names · slight usage of sir · unprotected sex [be safe!!!] · bondage (woah!) · slight choking · pussy slapping / spanking · not proofread, sawwy. · lmk if I missed anything this is a mess

maybe you knew better… or maybe you didn’t.

maybe, you were sick of waiting—tired of spending every night alone, counting down the hours until your husband came home to finally fulfill his promise.

heeseung’s impossibly diligent. he’s always been punctual—at least, when it came to his job.

he was the best in his department. the kind of lawyer clients fought over and partners fawned about—the most sought-after, the most highly recommended throughout the entire firm.

you were proud of him… you still are, nothing could ever change that. however, his career was tarnishing his perfect attendance at home. it was ruining any credibility he had at home.

he promised you.

promised he’d be home for dinner, to eat with you as you laughed about your days.

to wash dishes side by side before showering, then taking you to bed to treat you with just as much love and tenderness as he swore you deserved. but heeseung was late. again.

it’s a stupid rule—one you’d both agreed on, lips molded against one another as you nodded, promising to never get off without one another. it was romantic—sweet, even. that was then, though.

this is now.

and right now, when you’re needy beyond comprehension... drooling just from the idea of being touched, seen in any way... your promise felt more like a burden.

the clock on your bedside read 10:57 PM. If he wasn’t home by now, he wouldn’t be home until midnight at best… if at all.

you hesitated for a moment, lips tucked between your teeth and you exhaled roughly. you were tired of feeling unimportant—as though your needs weren’t as detrimental compared to some stranger working alongside your husband.

you slowly slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your panties. black fabric stretching as you eased your hand further down, fingertips slipping along your slit, collecting your arousal.

you sighed, a breathing sweat brushing past your lips and you pressed a finger inside of you aching cunt.

one finger, and then two. your breath caught in your throatt as you curled your fingers, your thighs shook, trembling with each shallow thrust. god, this’d be ten times better if it were heeseung—if his girthy dexterous fingers were fucking into you instead.

too bad he wasn’t here… too bad you were tired of waiting.

your back arched beneath your own touch. your hips bucked, chasing the friction of you palm grinding against your clit. the sounds of you fingers lathered in slick swarmed the room—accompanied by your obscene mewls and pathetic whimpers. “ohmy—fuck! hee…” you whined, cumming hard with your cunt clenching and spasming around your little fingers.

you’d finished inside the lace of your panties, the fabric clung to your folds. shaking from the aftershock of your orgasm, you kicked them off into the sheets—stained and ruined. It’s not like he’d notice.

it was 11:38 AM when he walked through the front door. 11:39 AM when he entered your bedroom, quiet, gentle and he dropped his briefcase and loosened his tie.

you looked at ease asleep—peaceful as he watched the slow rise and fall of your chest. that is, before he saw it.

they were crumpled into the sheets. your black panties, stained in cum and at the foot of the bed, as though you were taunting him. heeseung’s jaw clenched as you stirred, eyes gently fluttering open.

you hardly had any time to force yourself awake. his hand was grasped your ankle—tight. he yanked the covers back in a swift motion, pulling you towards the edge of the bed to meet him.

“up.” his words were plain—stern.

your heart beat against your ribcage as your breath hitched. his voice was low, commanding as you dumbly blinked up at him. “are you just now getting home?” you frowned.

he scoffed.

“seriously?” he laughed, amused as he leaned over you, carefully gripping your neck—not enough to restrict your breathing, but enough to leave you breathless and dizzy. “how slick do you think you are, y/n? do you think im an idiot?” he dangled the panties on the left of your face. fuck.

“mm…” you whined, his knee slotting itself between your thighs and against your cunt. “m’sorry, you were late.” your lips jutted out in a pout. his knee harshly shot up, precisely grinding against you puffy naked clit.

“did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

you shake your head.

“do you not what happens, baby? when you break rules..? promises..?”

you nodded, “say it. tell me, y/n.” he grimaced. “I-i get…” you stuttered, “I get punished.”

it wasn’t often that it happened… given, it wasn’t often that heeseung was home nowadays. however, if it took you being bound at the wrists to get his attention, it was more than worth it.

the fist hit didn’t land on your ass, but your cunt.

“angh!” you shuddered, flinching as the weight of his hand stung against your dripping pussy. “aw, does that hurt, baby?”

you nodded weakly. “that’s too bad.” another slap landed against your raw cunt. your hips jerking forward as you clit swelled up. “you touched what’s mine… without my permission at that.”

slap.

“and look at that,” he tugged on your hair, forcing you to look back. “you’re wet all over again… dripping all over my hand whilst I’m spanking you.” the next hit landed on the flesh of you ass—skin reddening with his handprint as you whined into the mattress, back arching as he continued. “count.” he instructed. “since you enjoy it so much.”

“o-one.”

the next few hits landed slack against both cheeks, “fuck..! ng.. five!” you squirmed against your restraints, tears prickling at your eyes at the expense of the delicious pain he inflicted on your ass. heeseung dropped to his knees behind you, thumb parting your sensitive folds as you hiccuped. he hummed, “I could fuck you now, couldn’t I? I mean you’re so wet I could slip myself in right now, hm?” he teased. “you don’t deserve that though, do you, baby?”

“no, sir.” a soft chuckle escaped his throat. you could feel the tip of his nose dip into your cunt, followed by another slap on your ass as he began lapping up your wetness.

his tongue glided its way from your clit back up, nose prodding at your slit, slick running down his face as he ate your pussy like he’d been starving. “ah! hah… heeseung!” another slap.

“s-sir!” you gasped, feeling close. “close already? I don’t think you deserve to come just yet.” he pumped two fingers into you cunt, relentlessly thrusting inside of you with a scissoring motion as you came undone. “don’t you dare cum, y/n. I mean it.” you clenched, wriggling as you moaned from pleasure. right as your orgasm neared he left you on the edge—yanking his sopping fingers from your aching cunt. “n-no! hee, please ungh! f-fuck! please, please let me cum.”

“you want to cum?” he flipped you over—now laying on your back as you stared back at him ruined, fervently nodding. “then go on.” he spat, swiftly removing his pants and briefs all at once, the fabric pooling at his ankles alongside his belt as he bottomed out almost instantly. “shit!” you choked, feeling his tip meet your cervix in an instant.

he fucked into you at a relentless pace—hips thrusting with precision as he marked you all over, lips trailing your body, latching on to your tits as he held your arms above your head.

each drag of his cock drove you further and further. “mm…m! ‘m ‘gonna cum, heeseung!” you gasped, feeling him fuck into you harder.

when you finally came it was violent, shaking as a sob broke past your throat. your chest rose and fell dramatically as you rode out your high, heesueng’s hand firmly pressing on your abdomen as he fucked you through your orgasm. pulling out to cum on your stomach as the two of you caught your breath.

when the two of you were done, he carefully untied you. “hee…” you whisper.

his eyes soften, big glosses over eyes meeting your hooded ones. “I missed you.” you frown.

and that’s when he knows he fucked up. “sweet girl.” he pouts. “y/n, I missed you too.” his hand cups your check as he engulf you, peppering kisses along your jaw.

the room had fell silent, the only sound being the soft pitter patter of afternoon rain against the window. “you alright?” he asks.

“better than okay.” you grin against his collarbone. “good.” he smiles, mirroring your own. he carefully gets up, running off to the bathroom before returning with a warm towel to ease your trembling body and clean you up.

“I’m sorry.” he begins.

“you’re always on time for everyone else, hee.” you frown, fingers tangling in his brown hair as he stares up at you with nothing but admiration and love. “I know, baby. I haven’t been fair.” he nuzzles against your stomach. “I love you. so, so, so much, y/n. I want to do better for you.”

“I know.” you smile softly. “I don’t need much, hee. ‘just you.” you whisper as he comes back up, setting the towel on the bedside as he tenderly kisses you. “all I need is you.” he grins. “I’ll do better, I promise…”

“but no more touching yourself without me, yeah?”

you laugh softly, slapping his arm playfully as he pulls you in. “deal.”

#shariasweet ༉‧₊˚.#enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enha hard hours #enha hard thoughts #heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #lee heesung smut #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung hard thoughts #lee heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours

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throneofsapphics · 10 months ago

Text

infinitesimal

batboys x reader

summary: upset at your partners forgetting an important date, you run to one of your old haunts.

warnings: angst, injuries, off-page violence

word count: 2596

a/n: based on this request!

You closed the door behind you, head tilted up to the stars to keep the tears from falling. A full arrangement coated the night sky, constellations and galaxies beyond anything you could feasibly imagine. It made you feel small, infinitesimally small and unimportant in the scheme of everything, but nothing, nothing had ever made you feel as small as the conversation you’d just had.

Perhaps you hadn’t been together quite that long, just a few decades, perhaps they’d had a lot on their mind, but if it was important to you shouldn’t it be important to them? Maybe it wasn’t fair of you to put your problems on them like this, but with all of the emotions running through and heating your blood, fair was the last thing on your mind.

They couldn’t figure out why you’d shown up in tears, had acted as if your emotions were a burden.

Tears glistened at the corners of your eyes as you pushed the door open to the study, where the three of them sat looking various degrees of stressed and tense. Perhaps trouble somewhere in Illyria, that’s what it usually was these days.

“What is it?” Rhys asked as you studied the table in front of them, snicking the door shut behind you. It wouldn’t stay closed long.

Your mouth parted, but no words came out. You couldn't. Just the near-unbearable pressure on your chest, threatening to cave you in and suffocate you, bury you alive.

“Why are you crying?” Cassian, you know he didn’t mean to, probably, sounded irritated. You hadn’t known you were crying.

Azriel’s head snapped up, so did Rhys’s. A quick scan of their faces showed none of the understanding you’d hoped for, instead showed varying levels of irritation, so you did what was easiest - you left, not bothering to let the door shut gently. Soft voices, but no footsteps, followed you.

You stormed out through the front gate. You knew how to release some energy, and how to do it in a way they would despise. A way they’d convinced you to quit because it was ‘legally dubiousl’ and ‘dangerous.’ You didn’t care right now. Later, you might look back and think you were an idiot but in this moment it seemed like nothing mattered.

If your feelings didn’t matter to them, theirs certainly shouldn’t matter to you, but in the back of your mind ... the very back where you shoved them away, they still did. Still haunted you, mocked you, whispered make-believe insults and disparaging comments. Your mind could be a prison, and you were well aware of that. So were they. Were you just some kind of pet for them to fix up and ready to enter society? If that was the case, you'd make sure it was one of the damn hardest jobs they’d ever receive.

Well aware you were spiraling, you did nothing to stop it and instead let that anger build and ready itself for the next few hours. The timing and date was impeccable, as if this was meant to be. Perhaps it was, and perhaps you shouldn’t have had to give up something you love for them, no matter how bad it was for you.

“Giving her time to cool off feels wrong,” Cassian said. There wasn't any other way he could describe it other than it didn’t seem right and usually his gut instinct was correct.

“I can practically still feel her anger,” Rhys reminded him.

‘All the more reason to go after her,’ he thought, but didn’t voice aloud. Maybe he should’ve

Azriel was pensive in a corner, looking like he’d forgotten something important, or like he was brooding. Perhaps a mixture of both. Asking him what was wrong had only gotten him a non-answer. He didn’t ask again. When Azriel wanted to tell him something, he would. You were the only one who could get away with pushing.

“So how long do we wait?” He asked Rhys instead, who pinched the bridge of his nose. They were all on edge. Unrest in Illyria always put them in a rather sour mood.

“A few hours or the night,” Rhys’s answer made Cassian scowl, and he saw Az’s shadows flicker from the corner of his eye, “but she may very well come back before then.”

“She’s not a child throwing a tantrum,” Azriel said quietly. “There’s something we’re missing.”

Yes, and it was quite obviously driving him up the wall. Cassian racked his brain for anything there could be, but only drew up blanks.

He didn’t want to, but he’d listen to Rhys this time because when it came to you, the male was usually right, and knew the correct thing to do. He only hoped that still applied today. Otherwise ... he didn’t want to think about what could go wrong. Right now, all he needed to think about was the fucking papers in front of him.

He’d read the reports, he always did, but he was really a male made for battlefields. You weren’t a battlefield. Lovely and soft and everything kind and good in this world, he’d move mountains to preserve the sweet spot you brought to his life, and would do near anything in return to sweeten yours.

Before you he would, internally, mocked the doe-eyed males willing to do anything for their partners before but now ... he loved to say he understood it.

Drifting, his thoughts were drifting.

Cassian tapped the pen on the paper in front of him, a habit he knew irritated his brothers but he didn’t care. If it helped him focus now, he'd take their scorn. It kept him from launching into the night sky after you. Surprisingly, they didn’t say a word.

“I don’t have a good feeling about her leaving like that,” Azriel broke the silence of the last few hours.

Cassian’s head snapped up. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?” He nearly snarled. Rhys fixed him with a look he pointedly ignored.

Azriel’s mouth pressed into a tight line and Cassian read the apology in his eyes, one he wouldn’t voice. It didn’t matter, he wasn’t the one owed an apology.

The next words set his heart into an irregular beat, his throat tightening, his palms sweating, and every nerve standing at ready. Adrenaline. He knew it all too well.

“My shadows can’t find her.”

His heart jumped to his throat.

You knew it was stupid to come here, but you came anyway. Still, as you stalked through the smoky space, you thought it was stupid because it would disappoint them, not necessarily because you were putting yourself in danger.

Right now, your own life meant little to nothing to you, and no amount of positive self talk seemed capable of changing that. You’d set yourself on the small course in front of you, and you’d see it to the end.

You didn’t take into account that others might have a bone to pick with your partners.

With just enough energy left to leave with your dignity, you emerged from the ring bloodied and bruised but somehow a victor. With the state you were in, it didn’t quite feel like a victory. It took everything for you to keep moving. At least there was enough honor amongst this crowd you were safe enough to leave with a pocket full of jingling gold.

You’d walked here to clear your mind, but would you have enough energy to winnow home? Fat chance you’d reach out to Rhys to get help. It was winnow or walk.

The choice was made for you as you exited, spotting someone you weren’t particularly thrilled to see, especially not in your current state. Licking your dry lips, you tried to come up with something anything to say as piercing hazel eyes ripped right through you.

“Hello,” you said, quite lamely.

He didn’t reply. Fair enough.

You shook your head, you didn’t owe him anything. If anything ... well, you wouldn’t go there now.

“I’m going home,” you said, and stepped into the light, wincing as you realized the shadows covering your face were gone now, and he could see your injuries and embarrassment. The worst part was, this time it didn’t look worse than it was. In fact, it was probably worse than it looked.

“I'll take you home,” he grunted, concern and anger warring for space in his features. Well, fighting to break through that neutral mask of his. Maybe you were projecting and he actually didn’t give a damn. That was more likely, you told yourself. Life taught you that if you assumed someone would hurt you it lessened the sting when they eventually did.

“To my apartment,” you insisted, but this time you weren’t feeling too proud to turn down a hand.

His hand landed on your shoulder, grip just tight enough, like you were some disgusting piece of trash he could hardly stand to touch. Maybe you were nothing more than that to him. The thought tore you into a thousand tiny pieces, the one movement more degrading than them forgetting the entire meaning of this day.

You never thought one tiny gesture could break you like that, you’d never thought you’d be so weak as to let it, but you let that pain inside, let it swirl inside of you and envelop every bit, let it sting more than the physical pain you were in, more than any physical pain possibly could as shadows swirled around you, whirling you deep into his night and to where or whomever their master desired, you doubted he would actually obey your wishes.

Azriel touched you so delicately because he couldn’t bear to see you in any more pain than you already were, even if it was pain of your own making. He knew the fights were ‘legal,’ although barely sanctioned and hardly tolerated, but he still wanted to find whoever your opponent was that night and rip them limb from limb. Male or female, he didn’t give a fuck. A dark beauty of his job was he treated each gender equally, in his eyes an enemy was an enemy, gender aside.

He winnowed you directly to your shared home, having already sent word to Rhys the moment you showed yourself. He knew where you’d be, mainly because the fighting rings had clever wards to keep shadow singers out. One of a few places in Velaris that did, and they only popped up when Rhys was gone. His High Lord hadn’t bothered with them yet, but maybe it was time to ask him to do a bit of tampering. For public safety, of course.

You shoved away from him the moment you landed. His amusement was easily hid at the effect - you stumbling back, him staying perfectly in place. He could’ve teased you, asked where your fighting skills were now, but he knew from reputation and watching that you had a mean right hook and after the words left his lips he’d probably feel inclined to let you punch him. Your next words sobered and cured any amusement lingering in his system.

“Do you have such little respect for me?” You were genuinely affronted. His mouth pressed into a tight line, any answer he could give felt like a trap. With a scoff, you stalked - no, limped - away and Azriel was left with the sinking realization that he should’ve said something. You were still in earshot however, hadn’t quite reached the corner.

“I respect you.” Were three measly words really all he could manage? Speeches and platitudes were more Rhys’s forte.

“Obviously you don’t,” you swirled around on your heel, swaying. He was there in an instant, eyes scanning you head to toe, searching for more signs of anything amiss. He’d only spotted surface injuries earlier, but it's entirely possible he missed something. Even he could admit that.

“What’s wrong?” You tried to push him away again, but this time he held on. He wouldn’t let you go - not like this.

“I’m fine,” you said through gritted teeth, and shoved again. He took a few steps back.

He wanted to bite back at you, to say ‘obviously not,’ but didn’t bother. A shadow curled around his ear, whispering your lies. Lies you knew.

“No you’re not. Do you want me to get Madja or Rhys?”

Something ached inside of him when you hesitated. Yesterday, he could’ve sworn you would say Rhys without hesitation.

Turns out, they didn’t need to make the decision as a brief whoosh announced the arrival of the male in question.

Rhys observed you, his hands flexed once before he shoved them into his pockets and closed the distance. Azriel felt himself tense, especially as you stood a little straighter, stance widening like you were prepared for a fight. Having felt Rhys’s wave of emotion when he told him where you’d gone off to, you weren’t ready for this fight. Not one bit. Especially not as he heard Cassian land on the balcony. It was easy enough to set his priorities straight.

“You need healing,” he said, well aware both of the other males could hear, and that it would bite into their anger. Worry for you would always override anger, for any of them.

“I. Said. I’m. Fine.”

‘Hurt’ a shadow danced around his ear, whispering, ‘bad.’

Bad.

His shadows never lied. Looking closer at you, he saw the pallor of your skin, the light sheet of sweat he’d originally mistaken as being from your earlier fights.

“You’re going to pass out,” he said as Cassian strode through the doorway.

Your eyelashes fluttered. Rhys disappeared, reappearing behind you within the second, arms looping under yours.

Mouth parted, words trying to form, but you couldn’t get them out. “Don’t you dare say fine,” Rhys still hissed in your ear, before hoisting you up into his arms bridal style.

Like dogs to a bone, he and Cassian followed you both back to your shared room.

Azriel scanned the room, eyes stopping on the side table. A glass of water. A necklace. A book, with a … portrait peeking out.

Carefully letting a shadow mark its place, he slipped it from the papers.

His stomach dropped.

Two males, twins, who were obviously close relations to you. Brothers.

You’d lost both of your brothers to a sickness that had swept through your small village.

“Rhys,” he murmured and he straightened from where he hovered over you. Night-sky magic monitored your pulse and breathing, and he knew Rhys would be alerted at the smallest change. It wasn't the first time they’d taken care of you like this, it had just been a few decades.

He silently handed the portrait over, Cassian crossing to take a look at it too.

“Today was ...” Cassian trailed off.

“The anniversary of their deaths,” Azriel finished for him.

And they’d let you run off instead of chasing after you. Azriel crossed the room to stand next to your side, brushing his hand over the soft skin of your cheek. You looked so peaceful, despite the lack of color in your skin. He needed you to wake up, so he could tell you he was fucking sorry and that if you wanted him to he’d chase you to the end of this world and into the next one.

Still, he couldn’t regret bringing you here instead of to your apartment. The last thing you needed right now was to be alone.

‘Who are you to know what she needs,’ a nasty voice, not unlike those of his own biological brothers, taunted.

Nobody. Right now, Azriel was a nobody.

#batboys x reader #batboys x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader #acotar fic #acotar fanfiction

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sexlapis · 3 months ago

Text

୨୧ ⋮ TAME

── .✦ cecil stedman x gn!reader

ns4w. no pronouns mentioned. DUBCON. SPANKING. slight angst. d/s dynamics. unequal power dynamics. rough/mean cecil. crying. petnames (‘kid’).

⤷ you need to be reminded of who’s really in charge.

wc: 2.4k

(✮) = your name

a/n: the cws make this sound so dark but it’s rlly not.

posted on ao3

masterlist

Cecil doesn’t even look at you when you walk into his office.

You knew you were in trouble, big trouble, after that little stunt you had pulled. Throwing yourself into danger so carelessly, so immature and impulsive. So reckless. So, so stupid. So typical of you. Typical of you to ignore logic, to indulge in the ephemeral nature of emotionality and not think about what damage it would leave in its wake.

He’s already called you out on such behaviour before - burned you with his scalding railing, froze you with his icy-sharp gaze, oppressed you within the palms of his weathered hands. And somehow, after all of his damning actions you managed to make the same mistake twice.

You deserve whatever you get.

Which is why you force yourself to suffer where you stand, squirming and twitching as Cecil shuffles through paperwork, barely sparing you a glance, hardly even acknowledging your presence. This stings more than if he was outright vociferating at you, fury in his breath and anger in his eyes - at least then you would actually be holding his attention.

He must be doing this to punish you, then. Instead of outright verbally degrading you to an unprecedented level, he simply ignores you, treats you as something insignificant, unimportant, a burden.

The thought makes your heart ache.

After several minutes of this silent, mental torture, Cecil huffs. He stands up. The act makes you stand up straight yourself, anticipating what will happen next.

Insults? A suspension? Banned from working with the GDA?

No. No, Cecil would never do such a thing. Even after all you’ve done, you’re still valuable. He still values you, both as a person and a hero. He has to.

It’s too quiet, and your heart is running too fast, and you can’t keep waiting anymore.

“Cecil-“”

“Shut up.” He spits. He looks tired, more than usual. Cecil unknots his tie from his neck, letting it hang loose.

You frown, swallowing. “Cecil-“”

“I said shut up.” He tells you, voice raised with annoyance. His glare cuts you. He speaks in a calmer tone when he notices your apprehension. “Come here.”

Your breath catches in your throat. What is he planning to do with you?

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His eyes are like a magnet, drawing you to him with shaky, uneven steps as if you were a lost fawn and your only solace was Cecil.

He waits for you, uncharacteristically patient while you stumble up behind his desk, lip chewed red and fingers nimbled numb. You can’t get a read on him, not now - you’re too frazzled, too on edge to figure out what he’ll do once he gets his hands on you. A little twinge of fear rises in your chest.

Cecil hums when you do as you’re told. Pleased that you can listen sometimes. He scans you from top to bottom, taking note of your glaringly obvious nervous ticks, inspecting you almost clinically.

He’s checking you over for any serious injuries.

You gulp.

Cecil moves his hand, placing it on the small of your back and guides you to the edge of the desk. You puff out a breath of air as your thighs press into Italian, mahogany wood, all the while Cecil crowds behind you, forcing you forward like he’s trying to meld you and the desk into one. His hands are placed on either side of you, trapping you effectively.

Your eyes fall shut, relishing in how his body feels against yours - firm, hard, stable. All the things you especially need. A firm, hard, stable hand to guide you.

He rests his head on your shoulder. You can feel the weight he carried from that one action alone, the weight of his responsibilities, his stress, his position, the weight of the world. He doesn’t need you adding to the already mile-long list.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Cecil asks you with a gruff, exhausted voice. “How many times do we have to go over this?”

“Cecil-“”

“No. No.” He tuts, breath fanning over your bare shoulder. Quieter now, he speaks, “I’m all out of words for you. Maybe you need a more…hands-on approach.”

Your head twists, your eyes meeting his, all wide and doe-eyed, glazed over with confusion. On the other hand, Cecil’s are like stone, worn and ancient, looking down at you with a gaze you’re now too familiar with. Dominance and absolute control.

“Bend over. On the desk.”

Cecil doesn’t wait for your response or reaction, already moulding you into position like clay, gently pushing your upper body onto the desk and, malleable as you are, you take it, trusting yourself in his hands despite the anxiety lighting through your body. Despite everything.

You feel so exposed. Bent over and presented to him. It’s almost embarrassing.

Almost.

He sighs. Big hands smooth down your clothed back, sending sparks up your spine, travelling through your synapses. His hips press into you from behind.

“There’s only so much one hero can get away with, (✮). You were toeing the line between calculated violence and full blown fuckery.” He breathes out a chuckle but you don’t think he’s very amused.

He leans over you, his front against your back and his lips brushing against your ear. “You overstepped that line by a fucking mile.”

Your forehead meets the wood with a thud.

Yeah, you know that. You know you’re always pushing the boundaries, Cecil’s boundaries, of right and wrong, good and bad, rational and emotional and you know you shouldn’t be. You should be an obedient, little hero who listens to their boss. But if this is where you end up after you do break the unwritten “rules” - bent over a desk, waiting for Cecil to ease you right into the place in the hierarchy just below him (both metaphorically and literally) - then you can’t feel too bad about what it took to get you right where you wanted to be. Sprawled out and waiting, a gift all for him.

“I need to keep my heroes in line. And for that to happen, they need to listen. You understand that. You know that.”

You bit your lip, nodding tenaciously.

He grabs your hair, not roughly, only as a warning. Warning you of who’s in charge. Of whose boss. “Words.”

You scramble for them. They trip out of your mouth, jumbled. “Yes-yes. I do know…I do.”

“Say it.”

“You need to keep…your heroes in line. And-and they need to…listen.”

You feel him relax. “That’s right.”

You realise then that he was more worried then he let on. You have your tells but so does he.

One of his hands travels down to your trousers, thumb dipping below the band. “So you know why I have to do this, right?”

You nod frantically. His hand burrowed in your hair tightens.

“Yes!”

“Yes what?

“Yes-yes, sir!”

He hums, happy and content. Pleased. His sense of control affirmed by your submission is a delicacy that he's addicted to and a taste that cannot be replaced or replicated by anything.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Without warning, Cecil promptly slides your trousers down your thighs, letting them fall to your feet. He moans at the sight of you spread out on the desk and feels his slacks tighten. But this isn’t about that right now. No, that’s for another time. For now, you need a hard hand and hard discipline, not pleasure.

Cecil doesn’t bother pulling your underwear down, he merely tugs them up high in between your ass cheeks, successfully wedging you in the process.

It’s degrading, demeaning the way he’s acting like a schoolyard bully and you’re his favourite victim. But you’d be lying if you said there was no knot of heat being tied within the pit of your stomach or that you didn’t feel your underwear being ruined as the seconds passed.

He makes you feel so small yet so significant at the same time.

You yelp when he gropes your bare, clear flesh in his hands.

“Hm. I’d say fifteen is a good amount.” He states, voice slightly horse. “What do you think?”

You don’t think you have a choice in the matter, but you speak your thoughts anyway.

“…That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”

There’s a short pause.

“I think fifteen is very fucking generous considering the stunt you pulled. Don’t you think.”

Well, he’s right about that.

He doesn’t actually care about your thoughts and you believe he wanted to make fun of you. Just a little bit. Poke fun at your constant failures, so common that you end up on his desk with your ass out.

Lamb to the slaughter. Again.

Smack.

It’s like you hear it before you feel it. You don’t even register the sting until a few moments later, after you’ve already been jerked forward by the force of it. Yelping, you look over your shoulder at him, stupidly feeling betrayed.

Cecil caresses your ass immediately, both to soothe the skin and your clear surprise.

“That’s one. I want you to count them for me. Can you do that?”

You blink.

“…Yes.”

“How much was that?”

“One.”

“Hm.” He huffs. “So you can listen. Good to know.”

Cecil, Cecil, Cecil. Even at a time like when you're half-naked and waiting to be spanked like a steak, he’s still his catty, sarcastic self. Some things never change.

“Wait!” You stop him, sitting up on your elbows. Your heart drops. “What if someone walks in?”

Cecil looks to the side. He doesn’t seem phased or even concerned at the possibility of an employee. or worse, another hero walking in at this damning sight.

“I wouldn’t give a damn if they all came in and watched, kid.” His hand clasps your shoulder, forcing you back down flat on the desk. “You don’t move without me saying so.”

“…Okay.”

He swats you once more, again, no warning, harder this time. It makes you hiss in pain, dreading tomorrow. You know you won’t be able to sit down with comfort. But even more so, what you feel is pleasure. Want and desire for Cecil, for him to hit you where nobody else will suspect or see. It’s exhilarating. You can never get enough of it. Of him.

“”T-Two.”

“Huh. There you go. Look how easy that is.” Cecil suppresses a groan at how your skin already blooms red like a rose.

He pelts you again. Your hips collide with the desk.

“Three!”

“Is this it then, hm? This is the only way I’ll get you to listen to me? Do I have to smack your ass on the field like a goddamn horse to get you to follow some simple fucking orders?”

Cecil spreads the globes of your ass, exposing your knotted, hidden hole to the cool air. You flail your arms back, attempting to cover yourself but he only pins them back at your sides.

“Try that again and you won’t be able to move your hands. Stop moving.”

You listen, heaving a long exhale. He’s only spanked you thrice and you’re already in a state; trembling, gasping and near drooling at the impact.

It goes on and on like this, a symphony of hand meeting flesh over and over and over again, alternating between hard and soft, hot and cold, like music, echoing around the silence of his office along with your cries and begs and whines and moans, creating a choir of passion spawned by the inapt relationship of you and Cecil.

And he praises you for the way you lay down and take it. You take the pain like a drug, strung up on the ache of your ass, controlled solely by the palms of his hands.

Ten.

It’s almost time for you. You know, Cecil sees it. He knows you well enough to be aware of your limits.

“Ten.” He strokes the flaming skin of your ass. “Good job. Almost finished.”

A sob leaves you before you can stifle it.

Cecil sighs, skimming a hand along the top of your head.

“I know. I know.” He coos. “Just five more. You can do it, I know you can.”

You begin to cry real tears when he starts back up again. It’s only brief but it devastates you. Ringing trills in your ears, nails shredding across dark timber, tears trickling down the bridge of your nose. A beautiful mess.

You’re a puddle by the time he’s finished. Your skin is aflame, an inferno, no doubt splattered red with hand-shaped bruises and discolourations. You internally weep for the upcoming days.

“All done. See? How hard was that?” Cecil mumbles.

He helps you stand up, practically lifts your weak, limp body. Sniffles and hiccups blow past your lips in the aftermath. It’s all so much. As he begins to redress you, pulling up your pants and fixing your shirt, you find yourself leaning into him, nuzzling your face into his crisp white shirt. You can feel him tense for just a moment, like he’s battling his own thoughts. Like after everything that has transpired in his office, touching you tenderly would be a step too far.

Then Cecil does reciprocate; robotically raises his hands to cradle the back of your head. That’s the most you’ll get out of him, you think.

“Don’t do that again.” He breathes. His voice is tight. “Had us worried there for a second. You even think about doing that again…I won’t be using my hand.”

He was worried. That’s what you take away from his threat. Your heart sings. Pathetic.

A quiet crackle of static sounds through the room, emitting from Cecil. From his earpiece.

“Huh?” He asks. “Right now?” He groans. “I’ll be there in five.”

Cecil moves back a step and places his hands on your shoulders. He stares at your tear-stricken face, red lips, bleary, wet lashes and bleary eyes, eyes that look up to him for support, protection and guidance. A ghost of guilt washed over him before he quickly snuffs it out.

He’s done worse than this.

His gaze flickers downwards. At your lips.

“You’re suspended from hero duties until you can prove to me that you’re capable of listening.” It seems like he remembers the condition you’re in. The condition he left you in. “Stay at the pentagon for the night. One of my employees will come fetch you.”

A flash. A buzz. He’s gone.

You’re left alone once more, flooded with want and another feeling you’re not so sure of.

૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

#deer divider by @/anitalenia #cecil stedman x reader #cecil stedman x you #cecil stedman x y/n #cecil stedman smut #cecil x reader #cecil x you #cecil x y/n #cecil smut

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ieatedyourcrayons · 8 months ago

Text

Colby Brock x Ghost!reader

She/Her used a few times.

Triggers: mentions of death, angst, kinda long.

Sam and Colby finally approached the manor they were scheduled to investigate. The manor stood tall, hidden by the fog. The bricks were dirty and covered in vines, the windows filthy with spider webs and dust. The grass was high, a slim path from others walking to and from the manor was visible.

The manor held a mysterious aura that Sam and Colby immediately felt. It sent shivers down their spine. They both brush it off as cold weather giving them the jitters.

Colby was still saddened by your death. You sit on his mind constantly, always thinking of what he could've done differently, what you guys would be doing now, and the future you guys could've had.

Sam knew Colby was hurt, even though Colby doesn't like to show it or admit it. Colby doesn't want to burden his friend with his issues, even though it would never burden Sam.

Sam could see the hurt in Colbys eyes and antics. Colby loved you, losing your partner of 5 years to death is not easy to move on from. Colby searched for you in everything he did, hoping to never forget you, as if he could forget you.

You remained on earth, the spiritual part at least, roaming through the world trapped in the spirit realm. You spent your days following Colby and traveling around, hoping to find the answer to what is keeping you trapped down here.

Colby was unaware of you following him, you would try to touch him, to get him to notice, but he just brushed it off as something unimportant. Colbys years of ghost hunting has desensitized him to things like that, him not liking any further into them other than a spiritual attachment.

Sam and Colby settled into the main room of the manor, putting their bags down and looking around the dusty and dim room.

"Im digging this vibe dude." Sam laughs out.

"Ah, nothing says "vibe" like dust and spiders." Colby laughs back while digging through his bag.

"Aye, that was Y/n's vibe." Sam responds back.

Colby freezes slightly, but laughs it off. You stand slightly to the side of Colby, feeling how tense he is and how Sam's comment effected him. You wished with every bone in your body that you could just hug him and make everything normal again.

Sam and Colby exchanged conversation about the plan for this ghost hunt while setting up cameras and hunting equipment. Sam set up a REM pod next to where you were located. After he turned it on, it immediately went off due to your presence.

Sam and Colby immediately look at the REM pod in silence, glancing to each other. You quickly step away, causing it to go silent. The boys continue to stand in silence before Colby grabs another communication device.

"If it was a spirit that made the REM pod go off, can you do it again?" Sam speaks up

"We come in peace, with no intention to harm you or any others in here." Colby adds.

The boys have done this so many times, but the first interaction in every hunt always startles them.

You think on what they said, debating if you should reach out, not ready to face a conversation with Colby, but you budge and touch the REM pod twice, signaling a yes.

Sam and Colby get excited, not expecting this much paranormal activity this soon. They look at each other with big grins on their faces.

"Amazing, thank you so much!" Colby responds. "Did you die in here?" Colby adds, trying to get insight on the spirit they are communicating with, not knowing it was you.

You tap the REM pod once for a no. Sam and Colby look confused to this response, confused as to why and how you got here if you didn't have any attachment to this manor.

You study both of their faces, taking in the confusion and debating if you should add more, scared to affect their grief. You mentally beat yourself up for reaching back. Now you're too far in.

"Set up the Estes method, I'll get in." Colby tells Sam as he pulls up a chair in front of the table.

Sam gets all the gear for the method, helping Colby get set up.

Once in the Estes method, Sam introduces the method and what they will do, but you already know everything about their methods.. how could you forget those things? It's essentially apart of your boyfriend's job.

"How did you get here?" Sam ask you while looking around the room.

"followed" you and Colby say, Colby speaking for you. Colby has a look of confusion on his face as he relays your words.

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

After a bit of back and forth, confusion, and suspicion between all parties, Sam finally ask the question. "Who is this..?"

"y/n..." you respond. Colby doesn't relay the message to Sam, instead he sits there, mouth agape, and frozen. Not knowing if that's actually what he heard, hoping it was just a play on his ears.

Colby quietly lets out an "Y/n..." Sam isn't shocked. from one of your first responses, he figured it was you, he just didn't want to believe it.

"hey Y/n, Its nice to hear from you" Sam replies with a breath of relief, hoping to make your feel more comfortable.

"hello.. I think I'm stuck?" you respond, hoping your words go through.

"hello, stuck?" Colby relays. "Is she stuck??" Colby adds in a panic. The last thing Colby wanted was you stuck on this earth to suffer longer then you already have.

"yes" you respond, Colby relays the message with tears forming in his eyes. "Sam how do we get her out?" Colby adds in a panic.

"Hey it's okay, we'll get her out." Sam assures Colby. Colby sightly loosens up at his friends words.

You touch Colbys shoulder, causing him to jump at the cold feeling. You quickly pull back, scared to make his state worse.

"she just touched me..."Colby whispers, wishing he didn't scare you off. craving your touch more than he has in the past year you've been gone.

"let me go." You say, hoping Colby moving on will set you free, from whatever this is.

"what? no I d can't" Colby responds franticly. Sam looks confused , not knowing the conversation you guys are holding.

"Colby, you have too.. I'll be stuck here until you do.." you respond with sadness in your voice. You're now sitting next to him.

Colby sheds a few tears while thinking about letting you go, scared that he will forget you, or he will never see you again. Sam looks at Colby, full of sympathy, but choosing to not interfere.

"how do I let you go..?" Colby ask, ready to let you rest.

"Just accept it Colby, I love you. Say the words" you respond while leaning on his shoulder. Colby accepted the cold touch as a final gesture. "I love you Y/n.. You can rest now." Colby responds with a shaky voice.

Your 'body' feels like static.. like peace, as you slowly dissipate into nothing but energy, welcoming the warmth that frees you from your frozen chains.

The cold from where you were leaning on Colbys shoulder vanishes and the only thing Colby is left with in the Estes method is static. Colby can't help but cry as he takes the equipment off. Sam is quick to his side, to comfort his friend, his brother.

#crayons writes #fanfic #colby brock #colby x reader #sam and colby #colby brock x reader #ghost #youth #sam golbach x reader #sam and colby x reader #sam and colby imagine #sam and colby fanfiction #angst

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holylulusworld · 10 months ago

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Not alone any longer

Summary: You try to believe in your blooming friendship with Clark.

Pairing: Clark Kent x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, loner reader, introvert reader, flirty Clark, low self-esteem, fluff, Lois bashing, Lois is the worst, destruction of a car

Catch up here: Alone again - Naturally

“Clark, you came,” you gasp as Clark stands in front of your home. He’s got a bouquet of daisies in his hands, offering them to you. “I mean, you’re early.”

“We have a date,” he half-laughs. “You remember we wanted to go on a date.” Clark nervously looks at you. “Did you change your mind?”

“No!” You hastily say. “I didn’t change my mind. It’s just…uh… I didn’t know what to wear.” You drop your gaze. “It’s been a while since someone asked me out. I didn’t know where we were going and tried on so many outfits that I forgot about the time.”

Clark flashes you a soft smile. He seems almost shy when you take the flowers out of his hand, and invite him in.

While you look for a vase, Clark looks around your small apartment. It’s nice, cozy and inviting. You’ve got fluffy pillows on our couch, and lots of plushies keeping you company while you try to write.

“I read one of your articles. Uh-the one about the missing cat, and how the owner did everything to find them. It was heartwarming how you described their reunion.”

You awkwardly look down at your shoes. Embarrassed about your meaningless article, you sigh deeply. “You shouldn’t have read that crap. No one does read it.”

“I liked it very much, Y/N,” Clark softly says your name, making you feel warm. You can see the honesty in his eyes when you finally look at him. “You’ve got talent, Blossom. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You shrug. “I’ll never win a Pulitzer Prize, or be as famous as Lois,” you sniffle. “She’s a star, and I’m the dirt under her shoes. Let’s be honest. Out of all the people I know, I’m the loser among them.”

“Y/N, that’s not true!”

You raise your hand and shake your head. “It’s okay, Clark. Why do you think none of my so-called friends stayed in touch?” You wipe your eyes. “Lois only invites me to rub her success and fame in my face. She didn’t even recognize that I left the party. If not for you, I’d be dead, and she wouldn’t even care. No one does.”

“I care,” Clark steps closer to grab your hand. “Not only because I saved you, Y/N. Before, during the party, you caught my eye. You looked as lost as I felt. I sometimes don’t know why I live here, among people who’ll never understand the burden of my powers and origin.”

“Oh, Clark.” You suddenly wrap your arms around him to comfort Clark. The strongest and bravest person you ever met. Running your hands up and down his back, you murmur his name. “I babble about my unimportant life and ignore that you must be struggling too. Hiding your true nature must be exhausting.”

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. Clark holds you close to his warm chest, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He hasn’t felt a connection with a person for a long time.

“It’s easier now that I got someone important in my life,” he whispers against you. Clark buries his face in your neck and sighs.

“Oh, who’s that? Did you meet someone nice?” You innocently ask, dipping your head to look up at Clark. “I hope they are nice.”

“Blossom, I meant you,” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You know about my secret for weeks, and didn’t try to take advantage of it.”

“Why would I? You’re a hero, and it’s an honor to know about your secret identity,” you shyly glance up at Clark. “Even though, flying still scares me.”

“I promise to fly carefully with you in my arms.” He smiles when you shy away. You didn’t think Clark wanted to see again, let alone, fly with you again. “I’ll not drop you.”

You giggle when he tells you. “What if you sneeze, and I slip out of your hands? I’ll end up as a pancake on the ground.”

Something flashes in his eyes. Not the red you saw in pictures or videos on the news. No. Worry, fear even. “I never get sick.”

“You never get sick?” You wonder aloud. “Oh, that’s good. I think. I mean, you’re from another world. Makes sense that our diseases can’t harm you.”

“Sometimes I wish that I was a normal guy, with normal problems and a normal life. No one would believe that Superman lies awake at night, dreaming of losing his powers.”

“You do?” you whimper. “I didn’t know you were lonely and sad too.” You hide your face in his chest. “But we are friends now. So, you’re not alone anymore.”

“Yeah,” he hums. “We are friends now…”

“Lois, what’s wrong?” You gasp watching your friend storm into your home. She huffs and throws her locks back while brushing past you. Lois looks around your living room, sneering as her eyes land on the daises Clark got for you.

“You know exactly what’s wrong,” she twirls around to glare at you. “Your life must be extremely shitty if you must go out with my boyfriend!”

“Your boyfriend?” You frown deeply. “I thought you’re single. And I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Clark Kent!” She spats. “You had to date my boyfriend, didn’t you? Just you know, he only feels sorry for you. Pathetic little Y/N, always so lonely and sad, standing in the corner to lure sweet Clark in.”

“He’s not your boyfriend,” you’re getting angry. “You broke up with him over a year ago. And, when he talked to me, I didn’t even know he was your ex. What Clark and I do is none of your business. We are friends and like spending time together!”

Lois wrinkles her nose at the word friends. “Does he know you’re a frigid, emotionally disabled and whiny little bitch? I guess not.”

She raises her hand to slap your face. You flinch and prepare for the impact when something outside your window explodes. Dropping to the ground, you press your hands to your ear as Lois screams in terror. She needs a moment before running toward your balcony.

Ever the investigative journalist, she steps onto your balcony to look down at the sidewalk to see her car got destroyed. It seems like it got cut into two halves. “No, what…” She shakes her head. Lois knows there’s only one person in this world able to cut her car into two halves within the blink of his eyes. “Why would he do this?”

Superman floats high above the sky, unseen. Watching Lois yell at you, he got angry. Even more, when she raised her hand against you, he couldn’t hurt her, so he did the next best thing. Clark sent a warning to her.

“You destroyed her car,” you glance down at the people in the streets. They look like ants as you float above the city. “Why?”

“She wanted to hurt you,” Clark holds you safe in his arms as you cling to him. You’re still scared of flying around with him, but he asked you to come with him so sweetly, you couldn’t deny him. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I got so mad and… I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.”

“I’d smashed her car too if I had any powers,” you give him a cracked smile. “She was vile and mean without a reason. Lois only got mad because we are friends now. She is like a kid wanting her toy back after she threw it away.”

“I’m a toy?” He looks at you in his arms.

“No…that’s not…” you sigh. “I didn’t mean it that way. She’s just…”

“I know, Blossom.” Clark presses his lips to your forehead. “What she said was mean. I couldn’t let her hurt you even more.”

“She’s not wrong,” you sniff. “I’m not good with dates and such. Men usually run for the hills after one date because I get nervous and anxious easily.”

“Y/N, I like you the way you are,” he whispers. Clark dips his head to press a soft kiss on your lips—a short and sweet one to test the waters. You giggle as your cheeks heat up. “I like you a lot, Blossom.”

“I like you a lot too, Clarkie,” you smile at Clark, feeling your heart flutter. “Can you…” You giggle, “Kiss me again?”

You don’t have to ask twice. Clark kisses you again, soft and sweet, while you float about the city. You forget about Lois and the rest of the world. It’s just you and Clark, and that is enough…

Part 3 - FIN

Tags in reblog.

#clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #Not alone any longer #x reader #shy reader #female reader #clark x reader

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loveemagicpeace · 7 months ago

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✨Astological Things🎄

Moon is your safe place. It is something that you emotionally need and where you feel most seen, safe and fulfilled emotionally. The moon represents what you need in your partner and what would work between you in the long run. When you have many moon connections with someone, it means that you are closer to that person and that you feel more emotionally fulfilled and seen. You feel that you can share a home with this person. To invite someone home is usually your moon.

Venus shows strong attraction and love. However, it is not necessary that the relationship will work in the long run because the moon shows more attraction and giving love, but not something that would last for a very long time. Which means a lot of venus connections don't always mean a long term relationship. However, Venus in aspect with Saturn is very good for the long term.

Countries ruled by pisces are: Spain, Portugal, Normandy. Places ruled by fish are oceans, ponds, water areas, wet and humid areas, spiritual centers.

The countries ruled by the zodiac sign of Aquarius are Abyssinia, Arabia, Lithuania, Poland, Russia and Sweden. Places ruled by Aquarius are hilly and uneven, places where small rivers flow, roofs of houses, overhangs. Aquarius also rules highways, airports, and things related to electricity and electronics.

The countries ruled by the Capricorn zodiac sign are Albania, Bulgaria, Old Macedonia, Thrace, India, Afghanistan, Mexico and the Orkney Islands.

The countries ruled by the Sagittarius zodiac sign are: Madagascar, Spain, Australia and parts of France.

The house position of Uranus always shows where instability or destructive qualities may appear at any time. Uranus in the corner house (first, fourth, seventh, tenth) in the birth chart means that aimlessness will radiate from the person's life. This also means that the person will move often. Uranus in the tracking house (second, fifth, eighth and eleventh) tends to produce a greater number of unexpected ups and downs in a person's life circumstances. Uranus falling in a house (third, sixth, ninth and twelfth) indicates that education and religious beliefs will fluctuate, causing problems in this person's life - usually alienation. It also means that work is done in spurts and irregularly.

Neptune in angular houses produces romantic personalities. This indicates frequent changes of address, estrangement from relatives and strong possibilities for travel. If badly afflicted, strange accidents may occur on these journeys. Neptune in tracked houses brings tendencies towards strange, obscure illnesses that are difficult to diagnose. It indicates restraint and imprisonment. Neptune in descending houses is the planet of substitutions, which means false teeth, glasses, wigs, wooden legs and the like.

Neptune tends to feel that the ordinary things in life are unimportant, too vulgar, and therefore the person is looking for something more stimulating, more mysterious and sensational. Neptune sometimes seeks a temporary escape and takes refuge in the dream world. Some people feel that Neptune is neutral. Other astrologers say that he is the bringer of evil.

Saturn in the first house or in the first quadrant (first, second or third house) in the birth chart tends to throw burdens on the native early in life. This is often due to the father's accidents. Saturn in the second or eighth house signifies the power of saving money. In the fourth house, the individual tends to build a property of great value. If Saturn rules the 12th house and is angular, it means that personal matters will be revealed in public to the great embarrassment of that person.

Saturn is a symbol of karma: trials that will come into our lives slowly and surely. Because Saturn causes or symbolizes our delays and losses, it becomes the symbol of fate, which sets the normal man firm limits to his efforts. Saturn is the greater bringer of evil and the bringer of tasks. On the other hand, he is also the best friend because you can learn the most from him.

Jupiter also rules sports, hunting, athletics. It also rules the love of animals, religion, marriage, philosophy. Based on the position of the house and the sign and the aspects of Jupiter, to be able to find out how a person thinks in a philological sense. Regardless of the aspect, it is considered very fortunate that Jupiter is in an angular house (first, fourth, seventh or tenth) because it is said to protect the person from major misfortunes.

Mercury at birth is the key to healing powers. If Mercury is positive in sign, house and aspect, it brings healing powers. It also symbolically indicates whether a person is able to heal mentally or is able to solve current life problems. A study of natal Mercury shows how the individual will approach solving problems. Mercury in a fire or air sign tends to produce healing powers because it allows the person's mind to focus strongly on the site of illness or problems.

Wherever you find Venus, there you find an audience of admirers. Whichever house Venus is in, that's where you find the greatest love for people, places or things.

Venus conjunct Uranus often symbolizes several fleeting relationships followed by separation. Venus is most important for chart comparisons because it shows what to expect and what type of obstacles will show up.

Cancer individuals are sometimes difficult to live with because of their ever-changing mental sides. The waxing and waning of the state follows the lunar cycle. When the Moon is waxing, they are in a good mood for two weeks and when it is waning, they are depressed for two weeks. They have cyclical ups and downs.

Virgos tend to be withdrawn and require a lot of attention and time for themselves. They are loners. Only when they end one relationship do they start another. They are quite gentle. They are sophisticated warriors. They are rebellious. Virgos usually have a very beautiful body that is soft and clean. Many times they don't like to put on too much makeup and prefer a natural look.

The nature of a Libra person is harmonious. It has a sense of relationships in an individual's perception, which gives balance to his worldview and/or artistic perception. Many painters and musicians are born under this sign because it gives them musical talent and a love for beauty and colors. A Libra woman is resourceful and seeks perfection. The man is honorable, outwardly balanced and kind, but not passionate.

Pisces: Be romantic. For water signs, romance is important: flowers, food, confetti, etc. If you do something for them, make it very personal: they are very personal. This applies to gifts as well as other actions and relationships. Let it be according to nil's taste. Don't do anything by standard procedures, make it personal. Make them care. They don't need a lover, but love in the form of tender care. That's the only thing that matters to them. Encourage them to express themselves. Inside, they are nervous: This concern has to go to plan. The pain they take on from others must be expressed outwardly. What I have noticed many times with fish, especially in the sun, is that they want to be seen and want someone who cared and felt things like they do. Pisceans can feel younger than they are and keep their good looks well into old age.

Leo people enjoy the good life, and eating well is part of this. They like rich food and fine wine. Fortunately young Leos have strong stomachs and good circulation, and keep in shape because they are active. However, time does catch up with them, and Leos must learn to eat correctly and cut down on fatty foods.

Moon in Leo -you have strong emotions and can be reached through your heart rather than your head. You are a quick and accurate learner when your feelings are involved. But if a subject does not arouse your affections, you have no interest in exploring it further. The sensory impressions you receive from the world around you come to you on an emotional level. In order to make you change your mind, someone first has to change how you feel.

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🩵🧚🏼‍♀️☁️

#astrology #zodiac signs #planets #my notes #astrological houses #astrology observations #moon #saturn

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separatetheyolk · 7 months ago

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Drivers Love Language

ʚɞ featuring: Lewis Hamilton & Lando Norris

ʚɞ how I think they would love and how they would like to be loved

ʚɞ warnings: not proofread

ʚɞ gender neutral

Lewis Hamilton

✰ how he loves - gifts

Lewis would absolutely spoil his other half rotten. He has more money than he knows what to do with and loves to not only support you. But also give you more. He sees no better person and no better way to spend his money than on the person he loves.

He’d buy anything you’d ask for, anything he thinks you’d like. From the smallest of gifts like flowers and a card to the more expensive purchases like rings or a car.

✰ how he loves - affirmation

Lewis is far from shy when it comes to expressing himself. He loves that he can use his platform to lift others up, create spaces for things that need to be talked about. The same could be said for his relationship,

he loves to complement his partner. Whether that’s now you look, how you’re dressed, your body, to your personality, your achievements, how much he admires you. So on, so forth. This man wants or rather needs you to know just how much he loves you.

He understands that often it is him in the spotlight. How could he not be? He’s a 7 time WDC. But he makes sure that you are never left in the shadows when it comes to your relationship. Highlighting everything you’ve done big or small. He never wants you to feel unimportant. Of course, if you would rather keep your achievements to your private life, Lewis will instead keep those complements securely behind closed doors

✰ how he loves/likes to be loved - acts of service

whether it’s helping with a puzzle, helping with cooking, run errands, or something as simple as clean the house Lewis loves to ease burdens from you shoulders big or small. He wants to see you relaxed and comfortable in your own home.

however he also would secretly love when his partner reciprocates this when needed. Even if he insists you don’t. His work can be demanding. Very demanding at times. And there are times where yes, general every day tasks are just too much for Lewis to fit into his schedule. He loves when you would take time out of your day to take Roscoe for a walk, or cook a meal, clean the house, hang his clothes, even something as simple as running a bath or starting the shower. However much he insists you don’t need to, it melts his heart and he falls head over heels in love again every single time.

✰ how he loves/likes to be loved - physical touch

now this is where acts of service goes hand in hand. The more time you have to relax, the more time you have for cuddles and kisses. Away from the public eye, cuddling on the sofa with you hidden away in his side or sitting on his lap watching a movie is up there. A highlight of his day. Doesn’t matter how often they’d do it. To him, it’s never enough.

In public, the touches are very much toned down. However, he still likes to make it clear this partner taken. And who exactly has taken them. Hand holding, arm around your waist, hand resting on your thigh, fixing your hair, the odd kiss on the cheek. All different ways Lewis shows his love. Any chance he can get there’s a hand on you. And he very much likes when you initiate the touch and reciprocate his affection.

Lando Norris

✰ how he loves - learning

This man would learn anything for you. Whether that’s how to style your hair, how to bake, how to make those fake paper flowers. He’d improve his writing just to write letters to you. He’d learn how to fix gadgets that you’ve broken if he can’t find anyone do to it instead. And if he can’t fix something, like a ring or necklace, he will be damn sure to take it to a jewellers the following morning. Absolutely nothing else would matter to him until that jewellery was in the safe hands of a professional.

✰ how he likes to be loved - food

Food is the way to Lando’s heart. Whether that’s bringing him food on stream, or just deciding to bake something. This man absolutely loves that you cook for him.

✰ how he loves - appreciation

If your relationship is known to the public, this guy will talk so highly of you on stream. How you’re the best partner, how lucky he is to have you, how he wants nothing more than to put a ring on your finger, etc, etc.

If the relationship is secret from the public but not to friends, family, and/or the grid. Then he will turn to those closest to him and talk about you to them like you’re heaven on earth.

✰ how he loves/likes to be loved - touch

He is a slut for physical affection. Hand in his hair, cuddles, hand on his back, leg, a kiss. It does not matter to him. He will take any and all that he can get. And he will love you even more for it.

If you want more drivers then lmk I guess lol

This has been sat in my drafts for days and I cba to add more rn but it’s pissing me off by being there lol so enjoy ig

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acmeangel · 5 months ago

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I’ll say it with my full chest: Bertholdt is equally as complex—if not more—as any other character in AoT and people only see him as ‘boring’ or ‘just there’ because he is quiet.

In a show full of natural born leaders, those who act without hesitation, who speak their minds loudly and impassioned, it’s easy for a quiet character to be seen as unimportant. But this couldn’t be further from the truth.

Bertholdt’s quiet demeanor is not to be mistaken with simplicity—to me, he is a textbook overthinker, riddled with conflicting thoughts, growing fears, and guilt that remains firmly planted in his mind, taking root there and growing out of control.

As someone who is quiet and meek by nature, it’s not surprising that Bertholdt grows into this nervous, indecisive person—he’s been a warrior since he was a child, an immense weight placed on his shoulders, the burden of being someone able to cause mass destruction with ease.

He’s been used as a weapon, constantly told what to do by others; he can master any skill better than most others, but lacks the power to do anything with those skills until he’s told.

He knows that if he is obedient, if he does what he is told is right, that he will be able to save his sick father, become an honorary Marleyan, and have some semblance of peace and safety. To him, at this point, he can be someone who defeats evil if he stays on the right path.

But, this becomes less simple as Bertholdt becomes wracked with guilt as he grows more and more aware of the truths of the world and the war he’s been forced to fight in; one that is not against evil, but driven by fear and hate.

We see it from one of his first ever interactions—when he uses the hanged man’s story as his own cover story when he speaks to Eren and Armin for the first time. Sure, he was trying to blend in, but he could’ve just as easily made something up.

That story had actually been weighing heavily on him, when he reveals that he’d been having recurring nightmares about it and asks Reiner in private why that man would bother telling that story just to later hang himself.

The thought is brushed aside rather quickly, but this gives us a look into Bertholdt’s mind and personality; someone battling inner turmoil, someone who contemplates what it means to have agency over life and death, someone who grapples with guilt.

He likely believed that the man wanted to be judged for his actions, to feel the weight of his guilt, before taking his own life; just as Bertholdt already felt the guilt of his actions in destroying Shiganshina and subconsciously was likely seeking out judgment and consequence. His sleeping position even matches The Hanged Man tarot card.

Later, we see Bertholdt’s guilt, emotions, and inactions reach a boiling point that compromises the warriors’ mission. He lets Armin use his feelings toward Annie as leverage to distract him, and he has a breakdown as he confesses to his friends in the Scouts that he hates what he’s done, that he genuinely does consider them friends, and that he wants to pay for what he’s done.

He knows that it was because of him that Eren ended up getting away, that he’d be the reason that Reiner and Annie would continue being in danger in Paradis, their mission now prolonged—his guilt only continues to build.

Moments before the return to Shiganshina, Zeke and Reiner had both told him that he needs to begin acting on his own, Reiner even going so far as to call him unreliable.

As someone who relies on the people he cares about and seeks direction from them, hearing that his own friends and comrades actually doubt his abilities and reliability would shake him to his core.

This interaction surely made him steel himself, made him push down his emotions, made him act. It made him put on a mask of apathy toward the Scouts, his friends, and nihilism toward the world around him, and play a role.

(Not to mention, Bertholdt has now seen Reiner—this person who was seen as weak, who was never even meant to be a warrior in the first place—grow into an actionable leader, and I can only imagine that would make his own self-doubts grow.)

I think when he transformed into the Colossal, part of him also genuinely did want it all to end, there, no matter the consequences. Reiner was too injured at that point to be the leader; it was his one, final chance to prove himself, to show that he is capable of doing something.

And I believe, too, that he was a terrified kid who just wanted the fighting to end—knowing that if it didn’t happen there, it would happen eventually, after more and more death and destruction.

He knows these people, his so-called enemies aren’t devils, aren’t evil, and don’t deserve death simply for being born on the opposite side of a war, but they have to die to prevent further bloodshed and catastrophe.

He knows the world is a cruel place, and there’s no changing it. He’s one of the first people to acknowledge that both sides are just doing what they think is the right thing, and if that’s the case, then the “right thing” ceases to exist. There are no devils; there are simply two sides and the hatred that fuels them.

There was no other way out this time—he couldn’t crumble under the weight of his guilt and risk compromising their mission again, for the sake of Reiner, for the sake of Annie, for the sake of his father, for the sake of everyone. He’d already done that before, and he couldn’t do it again—his true nature, to him, was nothing but a weakness.

He’d been fighting for his whole life, had seen and done unimaginable things that tormented him, had learned truths about the world that shattered what he’d been taught since childhood, and he knew that one way or another, things were going to play out in a horrific, gruesome way.

And at that moment, he accepted it because he had no other choice.

You could see his behavior in his last moments as true apathy—but I don’t. I see it as a terrified, exhausted, guilt-riddled kid living in a painfully cruel world, wanting to make it all stop and knowing that a peaceful outcome was never going to happen, that the cycles of hatred never cease.

I see it as him putting on a metaphorical armor to push past his own fears, guilts, and powerlessness.

And in his death, you see him return to his true self, his true nature—a timid, scared, lost and lonely boy, reaching out for the help of his friends…

#☆.angel.analysis #aot discussions #aot analysis #snk analysis #attack on titan analysis #bertholdt hoover #aot bertholdt #snk bertholdt #attack on titan bertholdt #☆.txt #attack on titan discussion #aot meta

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gloomwitchwrites · 9 months ago

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The Vampire King

Vampire King Thranduil x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): Vampire AU, horror / suspense, blood drinking, Sauron’s influence, non-consensual biting

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Requested by @ferns-fics for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Vampire AU)

Sent by your Lord as the final courier, you venture through Mirkwood toward Thranduil's halls, only to find the place haunted by evil.

ao3 // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

"We have not heard from the King of the Woodland Realm for some time. I fear the worst."

Your Lord fiddles with the sealed letter in his palm. There is a weariness to his brow that concerns you. For several seasons, the Greenwood has grown ever darker. Mirkwood is its name now, and has been for years, but its shadow has never reached your doorstep.

This is a last attempt. A final outreach of contact with the hope for answers.

"Take this correspondence,” he continues, offering you the sealed letter. “Make sure you hand it to King Thranduil himself. And if that is not possible, try to witness the transfer into his hands. All my others have gone unanswered. But I have no notion of whether or not my earlier attempts went undelivered."

Undelivered is an understatement. Every courier that your Lord sent forth into the Greenwood never returned. There has been no communication from them. Not a breath. While your Lord will not admit it, you suspect that their disappearances might have to do with King Thranduil.

“Of course,” you bow, taking the letter with the knowledge that you might be heading to your death.

Your Lord inclines his head, a sad smile on his face. “You cannot travel by horse. They do not like the trees. But there is a path. One created by the Elves. Follow that road and you will arrive at Thranduil’s doors.”

Within your traveling tunic, you tuck the correspondence away in a small pocket. It will be well hidden even if you are felled and searched. The contents are unimportant. It is the delivery that is paramount. Your Lord needs to know if the Woodland Realm has fallen completely into shadow. If you do not return, it is likely he will reach out to others.

Forming a fist, you place it over your heart, bowing your head. “It shall be done.”

The journey to the Greenwood is uneventful, but when you arrive to its borders, a sudden sense of foreboding greets you, as if the trees themselves are warning you away.

The Greenwood oozes darkness though the tree line appears healthy like any other forest. It is the strangest sensation. Everything looks fine, but from it, all you feel is dread. A sickness.

As you approach the marked path, a swelling sensation emerges as if a gigantic beast is opening its maw to swallow you whole. The Elven path is overgrown yet you can still see the read beneath. It is clear that the Elves of the Woodland Realm have not tended to it in some time. It’ll just be harder to navigate, but not impossible.

Every step and stone are laden with leaves and twisting twigs. You spend much of your walk pushing it all aside with your boot, clearing the path as you go along. The road, at least for a time, is easy to find. Yet, as you follow it further, the path begins to erode. The stones are either completely missing, broken, or blend into the ground as if the magic that protests it has also faltered and decayed.

A dreariness settles over everything. Your movement forward is slow going, and with the canopy, it is unclear as the time of day. It is all the same, like there is no day or night, like you’ve stepped into an entirely different world.

You continue on until the path is broken and shattered. Backtracking becomes a necessary burden. The path will disappear from view only to reappear when you least expect it. Many have complimented you on your tracking skills, but this goes beyond what you’ve learned and honed over the years.

Doubt creeps in.

This is more than simple decay. Perhaps there is another at work in these woods. Something wants you to doubt and venture off the path. Something wants you to get lost—to be befuddled by the changing landscape.

Remaining strong—remaining confident in yourself—is the best option.

It is the only option.

Your Lord is relying on you to deliver his letter and return. And you must rely on yourself to return to the place you call home.

When a large bridge and two massive doors appear, a great relief rushes through you. This is where you’ve been heading. This is where you’re supposed to be.

With a lightness in your step, you approach the bridge and immediately pause. There are no guards. No sounds other than the rushing water. You sniff the air but scent nothing foul. Orcs and other such creatures have a stink about them.

The air is calm. The leaves in the trees stir but not from unnatural disturbance. You detect no ambush and yet the very lack of guards set your senses into overdrive. You are alert as you tentatively take a step forward. Then another.

Vines curl over and around the sides of the bridge. Cracks cobweb across portions of the stone allowing in browning grass. Even here there are signs of decay. It’s a perfect place for an ambush.

But perhaps there is no one lurking in anticipation to attack. Maybe you’ll find a hall of dead Elves. Maybe you’ll find no one at all. Or you might find something far more sinister skulking about. Whatever you find, you intend on returning to your Lord with word of your discovery.

You only hope that you’ll survive.

"I have come on behalf of my Lord and Master. I have word from him to deliver to the King of the Woodland Realm!" Your raised voice carries across the bridge but is met with silence.

Nothing stirs. Nothing moves.

You've come all this way and yet the need to turn back is more present than ever.

Above you, a whoosh of air kicks up a brief gust of wind. You glance up, expecting to see a large bird flying overhead, but there is nothing. A deep dread swells in your stomach, the muscles in your legs tensing for a retreat.

Just as you prepare to return to the forest, the large, ornate gates groan and screech, opening enough for a singular guard to emerge. They are in full armor, and the helmet they wear completely hides their face.

They stand next to the open gate, a silent sentinel.

You call out again. "I seek an audience with King Thranduil."

The guard remains silent, observing without comment. Slowly, you approach, aware that you might need to go on the defensive. With every step, the helmet turns with, tracking your approach and entrance into Thranduil's halls.

There is nothing about the guard's body language to indicate hostility, but you're not comforted. You walk past the guard and through the cracked gates, entering into illuminated darkness. The silent sentinel follows, the gates closing, a sense of entrapment coming with it.

This place is a cage. You realize that now. Your freedom has just been ripped away from you. Stolen.

The guard moves right past you, an invitation to follow. You keep a polite distance, observing your surroundings. Not a single living thing crosses your path. It is utterly silent in these halls. Quiet.

In the throne room, the guard brings you to a winding flight of stairs. Upon the throne is a pale but fair figure with golden hair boarding on white. His robes are a deep scarlet while his crown is a twisting nest of black thorns and dried berries.

King Thranduil. Lord the Woodland Realm.

As you near, his gaze falls upon you, and you're met by pale red eyes that bite into your very soul.

"Welcome, messenger." His voice is soothing. Eerily calm.

You bow deeply. "Thank you for receiving me."

"And where do you hail from?" You tell him, keeping your head bowed. "I see," he replies softly. "He has been persistent."

You glance up, a bit of hope in your tone. "Then you have received his other correspondence."

"I have. Not that I wanted to answer them."

You frown at the revelation. If he has received all the other missives, where are the missing couriers? Did they return to the forest and eventually lose their way?

"He grows worried," you say cautiously. "Without word, he fears the worst. I am the last before he sends for aid."

A soft smirk tugs at the corner of Thranduil's mouth. It's just enough to show a glimpse of sharpened teeth. "How...quaint. As if the Lord of the Woodland Realm needs aid. We are perfectly fine here."

Swallowing down the bit of fear lodged in your throat, you reach into your tunic and withdraw the letter. "I am tasked with bringing this to you."

"And I will take it." You step forward and Thranduil holds up a hand. As if running into a wall, your limbs suddenly freeze, the control of your muscles zapped from you. "Tomorrow," he says. "You should rest. The Greenwood has become treacherous of late."

King Thranduil's demeanor is casual yet you sense a lingering power beneath it. There is no room for discussion. This is not a request but a command.

"Of course," you reply.

Thranduil snaps his fingers and the guard from earlier approaches. Control is returned to you. You've been dismissed and you exit the throne room without further instruction. Again, the halls are empty. Not a soul passes. It is only you, the guard, and the odd quiet.

Brought to a private room, you are left alone until another guard brings you a meal. There is something off about it. Everything appears fresh but there is a sourness beneath the taste that doesn't sit right with you.

You don't remember drifting off. You don't remember falling into bed. You awaken in a cold sweat, a dull ache tugging at your neck. Sitting up, you press your palm to the side of your throat. The room spins.

You drop your hand.

Notice red.

"You should be asleep, courier." Thranduil's voice is like a distant song. It lulls you back toward an endless abyss.

"Why are you here?" Your voice cracks slightly, dipping toward a strangled garble.

Other than a few lit candles on the table in front of him, the room is dark. Thranduil brings a glass goblet to his lips. In it is a dark liquid. Thranduil turns his head, and you're met with glowing eyes. They are piercing, like a blade to the gut. A sharpness seizes you, twisting to the point of pain. You cry out and grab your stomach.

"I like your memories. They are sweet. Flower-kissed. The ones from childhood are always the most...delicious." He sighs as if in serene pleasure. "Shall I keep you? Would you like that?"

It's rhetorical. Thranduil does not seek an answer. You feel it in your gut.

You will stay whether your heart wishes it or not.

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winxanity-ii · 9 months ago

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RESONANCE

ship: various!bnha x fem!reader warnings: non-explicit word count: 5.5k a/n: just wanted to spit out a lil one-shot, not sure if I'll make a full fic from this but who knows lolol; tell me what y'all think…

★·.·´🇲‌🇾‌ 🇭‌🇪‌🇷‌🇴‌ 🇦‌🇨‌🇦‌🇩‌🇪‌🇲‌🇮‌🇦‌/🇧‌🇳‌🇭‌🇦‌/🇲‌🇭‌🇦‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

All your life, people gravitated to you.

It was something that felt almost like gravity—a pull that made others orbit around you, with secrets and vulnerabilities spilling out like some cracked, overflowing dam.

They couldn't help it, and it wasn't something you actively tried to do either.

Your Quirk, Confidant, was a force of its own, turning you into an unwitting confessional booth for whoever happened to cross your path. Whether you were ready for it or not, they opened up.

There had been days when you tried to keep it off, to put up the wall and protect yourself from the sheer emotional weight that others dumped at your feet. But it took too much effort, too much focus to constantly repel that need in others.

If someone came to you, tearing up over a breakup or raging about the stress of everyday life, you'd let them; it was just easier to let it run its course.

And, sure, there weren't any physical drawback—no energy drained or migraines induced. But to you, there was a burden no one else seemed to recognize: the reboot.

Once someone started talking, your mind went into what you had nicknamed "short-reboot mode." It was like something within you flipped a switch, and suddenly, every part of you worked to cater to them.

Your eyes would track every shift in their expression, your ears catching every wobble in their voice. You'd analyze, break down every cue, every breath, until your responses flowed with practiced ease—the words that person needed to hear, the exact tone that made them relax.

Sometimes, you'd offer a soft, comforting touch. Other times, you'd say nothing at all, just be a presence there to anchor them.

When it was over, and they'd leave—well, that was when things got weird.

Not for them; no, for them it was almost as if a fog rolled over their memory of the whole thing. A protective influence that made the event seem far-off, unimportant, a comforting haze to keep them from fixating on you.

For you, though? You'd collapse in bed later on, mind swimming with everything you'd absorbed, while the Quirk worked behind the scenes to sort and compartmentalize every scrap of information.

It all got stored away—permanently—so you'd never forget.

And because of that, you hated it.

You hated how your brain worked on autopilot for everyone else, how every emotional exchange was something you'd retain forever while the small, everyday things slipped right through the cracks.

You'd put down your phone and lose it within minutes, or take things into a room one by one when you could easily grab everything at once. Your grandfather loved to tease you about it, always laughing as he cackled out, "Book sense, not a lick of common sense!"

Today, it was no different.

You groaned as you walked down the stairs from your bedroom, a yawn escaping your lips as you shuffled along.

You looked every bit as tired as you felt—oversized hoodie hanging loosely from your shoulders, the fabric wrinkled and slightly twisted, and your oversized socks pooling around your ankles.

Your clothes were a patchwork of dark shades, clinging to you in a way that made it clear you'd grabbed whatever was closest without a second thought. Your hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail, secured with a shoelace of all things, because you couldn't find a single rubber band.

You sucked your teeth at the thought, recalling how bit by bit, you had given away every one of your hairbands over the last few weeks to others who needed them. "I just bought that bulk pack," you muttered under your breath, feeling the mild frustration bubble up as you ambled into the kitchen.

The moment you stepped into the bright atmosphere of the kitchen, it felt like you were walking into another world. The colors, the light, the very mood—all of it was the opposite of you. The kitchen was warm, sunlight pouring in through the curtains, highlighting the cheery yellow walls.

Your mother was already bustling around, her cotton candy pink hair tied neatly at the base of her neck, her slender form moving with practiced grace as she prepared breakfast.

Her skin was a deep, rich shade of brown, and her eyes were bright yellow, almost glowing, with small opal-like moles at the corners that caught the morning light. She looked like something from a storybook, too perfect for the mundane scene unfolding around her.

The moment she noticed you shuffling over, she gasped softly, a bright smile blooming across her face. "Good morning, ____~," she sang, her voice lilting and sweet. "Did you have a good rest?"

You grunted in response, barely managing to pull the chair out before plopping down into it, your face half-hidden by the hood of your sweatshirt.

"That's great, sweetie~," she chirped, entirely unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. She set a plate of food in front of you, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your cheek. "Eat up. Your big brother will be taking you to school soon—you know how he gets about wanting you to be on time." She gave you one last gentle pat before twirling away, humming to herself, lost in her own vibrant little world.

It wasn't long before the rest of your family joined you. Your father and brother came down the stairs only seconds later, both of them just as bright and awake as your mother.

Your brother's footsteps were loud and purposeful as he approached, his hand ruffling your hair as he passed by. "Morning, sis," he said, his voice cheerful, a bright grin lighting up his face.

"Morning," you mumbled, barely looking up.

Your father followed, his broad shoulders taking up the space in the doorway for a moment as he stepped into the kitchen. His blue hair was tousled but neat, the same shade as the sky on a crisp morning. His green eyes were sharp but softened when he looked at you, a smile spreading across his face.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Good morning, little love," he said, his voice deep and warm, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

You sighed softly, nodding in response as they settled at the table.

Your mother moved between them, setting their plates down before finally taking a seat herself, her smile unwavering as she looked at all of you.

The scene was perfect, almost unreal in its harmony—the three of them chatting easily over breakfast, their voices blending together with the soft sound of birds chirping outside the window.

Even though it was a regular, cloudy day, the kitchen seemed filled with sunshine, the warmth radiating from your family like a beacon. Everything about the morning—the bright voices, the gentle smiles—made it feel mythical, as if you were living in a fairytale.

It was always like this: your family's moods almost too perfect, too light. How could they not be, though, when they had you? Built-in therapist, problem solver, always there to smooth over any tension, any hint of unease.

They could always be at their best because you carried the weight for them.

As everyone finished up, your brother stood, gathering the dishes and taking them to the sink. Your mother got up as well, moving to grab everyone's packed lunches for the day.

Your father turned to you, his gaze softening as he addressed you. "____," he started, his voice gentle but with a hint of something else—hesitation, maybe? "Could you come by my agency later after school? We've got a case... or, well, a patient. I could use your help again."

You hummed, a small sound of acknowledgment as you poked at the last bit of food on your plate. "Sure," you said, though the idea of it made your shoulders droop a little. It wasn't that you didn't want to help, but the thought of more people, more emotions, more weight, felt heavy already.

Your father's smile brightened, and he reached over, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Thank you, little love. You know it means a lot to me." He worked as a hero, and it wasn't uncommon for him to ask for your help.

He ran an agency called Constellation, and his quirk, Record, a photographic memory that worked both by touch and mentally, made him one of the best at what he did. He primarily worked with police and undercover heroes, solving cases that required an eye for detail that few others had.

Ever since you'd gained your quirk, he'd relied on you for the more delicate matters—the emotional weight of things that even he couldn't quite process alone.

A few seconds later, your brother returned, his grin blinding as he held out your backpack and lunch. "C'mon, sleepyhead," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "I got your stuff. Let's go catch the train."

You pushed your chair back, standing up with a stretch. "Yeah, yeah," you muttered, taking the bag from him. You turned to your parents, waving lazily over your shoulder. Your mother and father stood side by side, your father's arm wrapped around your mother's waist. She towered over him with her lithe frame, his head just reaching her collarbones. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad."

"Bye, sweetheart!" your mother called, her voice as sunny as ever.

"Have a good day, little love," your father added, giving you one last smile before you followed your brother out the door.

The cool morning air hit you as your brother led the way down the sidewalk, his usual confident stride carrying you both towards the train station.

You glanced over at him, watching as he talked animatedly, his hands moving to emphasize whatever point he was making. He was always like this—full of energy, especially in the mornings, unlike you, who was still trying to wake up.

As you both settled into your seats on the train, your brother continued to talk, his voice carrying over the quiet hum of the train. He was telling you all about his third year at Shiketsu High, his eyes sparkling as he described how different and fast-paced everything was compared to the previous year.

He even started rambling about his work-study with Fatgum, who he mentioned was an alumnus of Shiketsu High, and his fellow collegues, some guys named Suneater and Red Riot.

You glanced at your brother as he spoke, taking in his features. He looked like a perfect mix of both your parents.

His hair was a blend of your mother's bright pink and your father's deep blue, swirling together like cotton candy, giving him a vibrant and almost ethereal look.

His eyes were a mesmerizing combination of green and yellow—a galaxy of colors that seemed to shift with his mood, as if reflecting the emotions he felt around him.

Scattered across the bridge of his nose were luminescent, opal-like freckles, glowing faintly in the light as he spoke. They weren't just decorative; they were part of his Quirk, Emotilink—which was inherited from your mother—would glow and shift in color depending on the emotions of those he touched, allowing him to feel the emotions of others.

Together, their abilities made them almost like human mood rings, their markings betraying the emotional states of anyone in their vicinity.

Your brother was tall and broad-shouldered, his husky build making him seem both strong and comforting. His skin tone was a perfect, ambiguous shade—not quite pale, not quite dark—striking a balance that made him stand out without fitting neatly into any one category.

He carried himself with a confidence that only seemed to amplify the presence of his quirk, his luminescent markings always a glowing reminder of what he could do.

You, on the other hand, looked nothing like the rest of your family.

When you were younger, you'd had your mother's yellow eyes and your father's blue hair. But after your Quirk had manifested, everything about you seemed to change.

Your features had shifted, becoming more subdued, less distinct, until you were left with an appearance that could only be described as forgettable. Your hair had dulled to a mousy brown, and your eyes had lost their vibrancy, now a muted shade that seemed to blend in with the rest of you.

Sometimes you wished your Quirk was just that—forgettableness. Maybe then you wouldn't feel the weight of everyone else's emotions pressing down on you.

You were pulled from your thoughts when your brother grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled you up from your seat. "Let's go," he said, his voice filled with his usual enthusiasm.

You barely had time to react before he was practically dragging you out of the train and towards the school.

It was a routine you were used to by now—your brother carrying you along, making sure you got where you needed to be without any issue.

He didn't even break a sweat as he deposited you in front of the school gates, his hands moving to smooth out your clothes and pat down your hair, completely uncaring of the looks you both were getting from the other students.

"Aaand... there!" he said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. He handed you your backpack, his grin widening. "Alright, sleepyhead, I'll meet you here after school to take you to Dad's agency, okay?"

You nodded, adjusting the straps of your backpack. "Yeah, okay," you replied, your voice barely louder than a mumble.

He bent down, staring you right in the face with a grin. "Have a great day, alright?" he said, his eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. He reached out, ruffling your hair one last time before turning to head towards his own school. "See ya later!"

You watched him go, a sigh escaping your lips as you turned to face the school. You never really understood why he insisted on taking you to school every morning, especially when his own school was a twenty-minute walk in the opposite direction.

But then again, he'd managed to maintain perfect attendance for the past two years, so he must have been doing something right.

With another sigh, you pulled out your headphones, hoping that maybe—just maybe—they would be enough to keep people away today. You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

As you walked through the gates and into the bustling courtyard, you could already feel the familiar pull—the curious eyes, the hesitant glances, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

You pushed your headphones over your ears, the music drowning out the noise around you, but it wasn't enough.

It never was.

You stayed behind in the classroom during lunch, deciding to give yourself a break from the constant buzz of students. The cafeteria was always too loud, too busy, and you needed a moment to just be alone.

You pulled out a packet of fries you had bought earlier, munching on them absentmindedly while staring out of the window. The clouds rolled lazily across the sky, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to drift off, letting the quiet calm your racing mind.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you heard your name being called. You turned, startled, to see your homeroom teacher hovering near the doorway. "____," she called again, her voice soft but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Your teacher, Ms. Hachiko, was hard to miss. She had a distinctly bee-like appearance, with large, round eyes that shimmered like polished onyx, and her entire body was covered in soft, fuzzy yellow fur.

Two delicate antennae sprouted from her forehead, and her long hair was pinned back into a neat bun. She floated a few inches off the ground, her wings fluttering quietly behind her.

But it wasn't just her that caught your attention. Standing behind her, with his shoulders slouched and an unmistakable frown etched across his face, was none other than Aizawa Shouta—the underground hero, Eraserhead.

You felt your eyes widen, and you choked on the fry you had just been eating, your throat seizing in shock. You coughed, hitting your chest several times as tears welled up in your eyes.

Both adults stood there, awkwardly waiting as you hacked out a few more coughs. When you finally managed to catch your breath, Ms. Hachiko gave you an apologetic smile. "____, you need to speak with Eraserhead here," she said, her antennae twitching slightly. "I'll leave you two to it," she added before fluttering out of the room, her wings buzzing softly.

You were left alone with Aizawa, who ambled over to the desk beside you and dropped himself into the seat, his tired eyes fixed on you.

He was wearing his hero uniform, his capture weapon loosely wrapped around his neck, and his dark hair hung messily around his face. He looked exhausted, deep lines etched beneath his eyes, but even then, there was something undeniably striking about him. He had an air of quiet authority that demanded respect, no matter how disheveled he appeared.

He stared at you for a moment before finally speaking. "Look, kid, I'm not sure why Nezu sent me here," he began, his tone blunt, "but apparently, you're needed for something. Honestly, you're a child, and you shouldn't even be involved in this. But here we are."

You blinked at him, still trying to wrap your head around the fact that thee Eraserhead was sitting in front of you, talking to you. He let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Have you heard about the recent villain attack on the UA first-year training camp?"

You nodded slowly, recalling the news you had heard about it weeks ago. You remembered hearing that it was the same group of first-year students that had already had a run-in with villains at the USJ. "Yeah, I heard about it," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "They got some crappy luck..."

Aizawa gave a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, it's been rough on them, that's for sure. The thing is, my boss, Principal Nezu, wants you to help the students who were most affected by the attack—Class 1-A. The other students have been able to get help from their assigned therapists, but Class 1-A... they're different. They've built a wall around themselves so thick that not even the best world-renowned therapists can break through. They think this is just part of being a hero, that they have to suck it up and move on."

You frowned, a slight pang of pity tugging at you as you listened. You knew what he was asking before he even finished explaining. It wasn't like you had a choice anyway. If Nezu, the head of UA, was asking, then your small, out-of-the-way school, Okiyama Municipal High, wasn't exactly in a position to say no.

With a heavy sigh, you slumped back in your chair, dropping your half-eaten packet of fries onto the desk. "Will I be back before school is over?"

Aizawa rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed with your lack of enthusiasm. "Yes, you'll be back before the end of the day. Nezu already spoke with your parents. One of your father's sidekicks will pick you up from UA bring you straight to his agency. It shouldn't take too long—you're just meeting them and getting a quick assessment."

Shoulders slouching, you could already picture the long, draining night ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you pushed yourself out of your seat, nodding reluctantly. "Alright, fine," you muttered, gesturing for Aizawa to lead the way. "Let's get this over with, then."

Aizawa gave you a curt nod, standing up as well. You followed him down the hallway, the silence between you two heavy but not uncomfortable.

It wasn't long before you were out of your small school building and on your way to UA, sitting beside the underground hero in a rather unremarkable car, driven by a UA staff member.

You were about to meet the students who had faced villains twice now, and you knew that whatever you were walking into, it wasn't going to be easy.

When you arrived at UA, the sight that greeted you was different from what you remembered. You had been to UA before, a few years ago when your brother brought you along during his campus tour while deciding where to attend high school.

Back then, UA had been impressive, sure, but now it looked almost like a university campus—new dormitories and additional buildings scattered across the grounds, giving it the appearance of a bustling college rather than just a high school.

Noticing your confused expression, Aizawa spoke up, his voice gruff but explanatory. "After the training camp attack, UA opened up dormitories to house students. Villains have become more audacious lately, targeting students even outside school grounds. The dorms are an extra precaution, meant to keep them safe."

You nodded, taking in the new structures as Aizawa led you through the campus. It made sense, given how much had happened to these students already. You felt a small pang of sympathy for them—it couldn't be easy, constantly looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next attack.

Eventually, you arrived at one of the dorm buildings, and Aizawa opened the door, ushering you inside.

You stepped into a spacious common area, expecting to see a dozen traumatized, weary teens gathered together. Instead, there were just two people sitting on the couch, their attention fixed on the television in front of them.

The room was warm and cozy, a stark contrast to the tension you felt brewing inside you.

The moment the door opened, both heads snapped towards you, their bodies relaxing slightly when they realized it was Aizawa. The redhead sitting closest to the door smiled brightly, while the blonde beside him scowled, his eyes narrowing.

"Kirishima," Aizawa grunted, his tone carrying a hint of exasperation, "where is everyone?"

The redhead—Kirishima, you assumed—grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, some of them went out shopping, Sensei. And Deku and Shoto are out training."

Aizawa let out a long-suffering sigh, rubbing his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache. "I thought I told you all to stay put because you had an important visitor coming."

The blonde on the sofa snorted, his voice dripping with irritation. "What important guest, Sensei? Don't tell me it's that pipsqueak over there," he said, jerking his head in your direction.

You blinked, taken aback for a moment before letting out an affronted scoff. "Pipsqueak? I have you know, I'm taller than average," you sniffed, crossing your arms defensively.

The blonde gave you a withering look, scoffing again. "In what? Middle schoolers?"

Before you could retort, Aizawa intervened, his tired eyes narrowing at the blonde. "Bakugo, stop," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "I was told to bring you here, so even though not all of them are here, you've got two clients. Have fun," he said, giving you a small wave over his shoulder as he left the room.

You stared after him, your stomach sinking slightly. "Clients?" Kirishima asked, tilting his head in confusion as he looked at you.

You forced a smile, feeling awkward under their curious gazes. "Uh, yeah. I'm here to... help you guys. I guess you could say I'm kind of like a counselor," you explained, scratching the back of your head.

Kirishima's eyes widened in surprise before his expression broke out into a wide grin. He jumped up from the couch, crossing the room in a few quick strides to extend his hand to you. "Well, that's super manly! So young, yet already helping people like this. I'm Kirishima Eijiro," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

You took his hand, shaking it a bit hesitantly. His grip was strong but friendly, and you couldn't help but notice the small details about him—his bright red spiky hair, the way his eyes seemed so genuine and open, the muscular build that made it clear he took his training seriously.

There was an energy about him that reminded you of your brother—that same relentless positivity.

Lord, it seemed you had found someone who could give your brother a run for his money.

"I'm Hanabira ____," you replied, your voice a bit more steady now.

The moment your name left your mouth, Eijiro's eyes widened even further, and he let out a gasp. "No way! You’re The Emotional Hero: Emberpulse's sibling?!"

You blinked, taken aback. "Uh, yeah?"

Eijiro's grin grew impossibly wider as he continued, "Your brother talks about you all the time! It's like I practically know you already. He says you're always helping people out, even when it's not easy, and that you have this way of making everyone feel better just by being around."

You raised an eyebrow, a bit skeptical. "How did you even know? Our last name isn't exactly unique, and we don't look alike at all."

Eijiro blinked, then broke out into another grin, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't know, honestly. Your brother just said you gave off this aura of immediate kindness. Like, you just have this energy that makes people feel safe, you know? So when you introduced yourself, it kind of clicked."

A gruff voice cut in before you could respond. "Only you would make such a dumbass connection, Shitty-Hair," the blonde from earlier muttered, standing up from the couch. He turned to face you, his intense eyes boring into yours.

He had a scowl permanently etched onto his face, his posture confident and almost confrontational. His blond hair was unruly, and you couldn't help but notice the small, almost imperceptible twitches of annoyance in his expression—like he was constantly teetering on the edge of irritation.

Eijiro just laughed, seemingly unaffected by the insult. "That's Bakugo Katsuki, my best friend," he said, gesturing to the blonde. Katsuki sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes but not bothering to say anything further.

Eijiro turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. "So, uh, what exactly are you here for?"

You sighed, holding your hands up. "Like Aizawa-san said, I'm here to help, but it's not exactly like I'm a therapist or anything. I didn't ask to be here either," you said, your tone a bit defensive.

Katsuki scoffed, crossing his arms. "We don't need a damn therapist," he muttered, clearly unimpressed.

You gave him a flat look, deciding not to engage in an argument. Eijiro, sensing the tension, quickly stepped in. "Hey, don't mind him. He's just... like that," he said, scratching his head awkwardly. "Uh, would you like to join us? We were just watching a movie."

You shrugged, figuring you might as well. "Sure," you said, trying to sound casual.

Internally, you figured it was better to stay and at least try to connect with them, given that the rest of the students weren't even there. Plus, Katsuki seemed like he'd be impossible to talk to seriously right now.

The three of you settled on the couch, and Eijiro quickly started chatting again, asking you questions about your brother, your Quirk, and your school. He leaned in a bit closer whenever you answered, his eyes bright with curiosity and genuine interest.

You could tell he was trying to understand you better, his questions growing more specific as the conversation progressed.

At one point, he asked about your brother's favorite hobby, sharing how they had bonded during training sessions over their shared love of working out.

"You know, your brother's kind of like a legend," Eijiro said, his eyes wide with admiration. "I know I already told you, but he always talks about you, and I was really excited to finally meet you. He says you're his biggest inspiration."

You felt a warmth spread across your chest—a mix of pride and embarrassment. You gave a small smile, shrugging. "He always exaggerates. I'm really not that special."

Eijiro shook his head vigorously, his red hair bouncing slightly. "No way! I can totally see it. You've got this calming vibe. It's like... you make everything seem a little less scary, you know?" His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you could feel a slight buzz in the back of your mind—a familiar haze that signaled your Quirk almost activating.

You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of your body language, realizing that your posture had subtly shifted to mirror Eijiro's, your smile matching his intensity.

Quickly, you broke eye contact, focusing on Katsuki instead, who was watching the interaction with an annoyed expression.

He caught your gaze, and his scowl deepened. "Don't let Shitty-Hair butter you up. He's got a habit of getting all sentimental," Katsuki muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Eijiro laughed, giving Katsuki a playful nudge. "Aw, come on, Bakugo. Just trying to make our guest feel welcome."

Katsuki rolled his eyes, but there was no real bite behind his irritation. "Yeah, whatever. Just don't go crying on us, idiot."

The conversation shifted, and Eijiro asked more about your school life. You found yourself relaxing again, the haze receding as you focused on answering his questions.

He seemed genuinely fascinated by even the mundane details—how you spent your days, what subjects you liked, even your least favorite lunch options. There was a warmth in his attention, a genuine desire to know you, that made it easy to keep talking.

Time seemed to pass quicker than you expected, and even Katsuki, though gruff and standoffish, eventually chimed in with a few sarcastic comments.

You noticed that, despite his harsh words, he never actually dismissed anything you said. It was as if he begrudgingly accepted your presence, though he made sure to keep up his rough exterior.

At one point, Eijiro nudged you lightly with his elbow, a grin on his face. "You know, I think you and Bakugo would get along great if you gave it a shot. He acts tough, but he's got a good heart. Right, Explosion Boy?"

Katsuki's glare could have cut glass. "Don't drag me into your dumb ideas, Shitty-Hair," he snapped, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks, barely noticeable.

Eijiro just laughed again, unbothered, and you couldn't help but smile. It was strange, but you found yourself feeling a sense of comfort in their dynamic—like, despite their differences, they had a bond that was hard to break.

After what felt like a couple of hours or so, there was a knock at the dorm door. Aizawa entered, followed by one of your father's sidekicks, who gave you a nod. "Time to go," the sidekick said, their voice gentle but firm.

You stood up, giving Eijiro a small wave. "I guess I’ll see you around," you said.

Eijiro grinned, giving you a thumbs-up. "For sure! And thanks for coming by, ____. It was... nice."

You nodded, turning to follow Aizawa and the sidekick out of the dorms.

The ride to your father's agency was quiet, your mind still replaying the interactions you had just had. You found yourself mentally sorting through the profiles you had unconsciously built on both Eijiro and Katsuki so far.

Eijiro was enthusiastic, open, and incredibly genuine—his positivity seemed almost endless, and you could tell he was the kind of person who made it his mission to uplift others.

He had this earnestness that made you feel at ease, like he genuinely cared about the people around him. He was always leaning in, listening intently, and his questions showed just how interested he was in knowing you.

There was something infectious about his energy, and it reminded you so much of your brother—the way they both could fill a room with warmth just by being themselves.

Katsuki, on the other hand, was more of a closed book. He was gruff, blunt, and had an intensity that made it hard to know what he was really thinking.

Yet, underneath all of that, you could see small glimpses of something else—his scowl wasn't always as sharp as he wanted it to be, and he had moments where it felt like he begrudgingly accepted your presence.

He never outright dismissed you, and while his comments were sarcastic, they didn't carry the kind of malice you might have expected.

It was almost like he was challenging you to see past the tough exterior, to prove that you could handle being around him.

When you arrived, your father was waiting for you, his expression stern.

He grabbed your arm, his eyes serious as he looked at you. "Listen carefully," he said, his voice low. "The villain you're about to interact with is dangerous. He was part of the Vanguard Action Squad—Mustard. He's unpredictable, so I need you to be cautious. Understand?"

You swallowed, nodding. "Got it, Dad."

He gave you a small, almost reluctant smile, his grip on your arm loosening. "Good. Just... be careful, alright, little love?"

You nodded again, feeling the weight of what was about to come settle heavily in your chest.

This was just another part of your Quirk, another responsibility you had to shoulder—whether you wanted to or not.

A/N: so what's the verdit? will it be good as a fic or just do a one-shot series???

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rose24207 · 7 months ago

Note

could you please do more nerd lando? maybe the reader goes on a holiday with family and the bullying gets bad again without her and when she returns he’s really down and upset?

Nothings new

Summary: Lando, overwhelmed by relentless bullying and emotional strain, reaches a breaking point, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown where he finally allows himself to cry and lean on you for comfort.

Genre: Nerd!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: bullying, mental health, breakdown, overthinking

A/N: woah… that’s a heavy one. If there is someone out there being bullied don’t be afraid to reach out to someone and open up. Even if you feel like nothing can change your situation you’re currently in, don’t shut your loved ones out. You can even send me a messages if you want to talk about it.

English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

Lando sat at the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the alarm clock as it blared in the quiet room. The digital numbers flickered in a hypnotic rhythm, but they didn’t matter. The world outside his bedroom felt distant, unimportant. The walls of his small room had always been his sanctuary, but lately, even the safety of his own space felt suffocating.

The only sound in the room was the buzzing of his phone. It vibrated on the desk, a message from you. You had told him the night before that you’d be gone for a few days, away on a short holiday with your family. It wasn’t a big trip, just a break to get away for a while. But to Lando, it felt like an eternity. It had been difficult enough to face school every day, but now… now he was left to face it without you.

He reached for his phone, the screen lighting up as he unlocked it.

“I miss you already! I hope you have a great day! Don’t forget to take care of yourself!”

A small smile tugged at Lando’s lips, but it faded almost as quickly as it appeared. You were always so kind to him, always checking in, always making him feel like someone actually cared. But now, you were gone, and he was alone. He had to make it through the next few days without you, without the one person who truly understood him.

His hand shook as he typed a reply, though he barely registered the words as they appeared on the screen.

“Thanks. It’s fine, just school stuff.”

He didn’t want to tell you the truth. He didn’t want to worry you, didn’t want to burden you with his problems when you were miles away, living your life. So, he said nothing about the bullying, the constant humiliation, the suffocating feeling of being invisible to everyone around him. He didn’t want to tell you how empty he felt, how terrifying it was to face the day without you by his side.

But deep down, he knew it was going to be harder than usual. Without you, Lando felt like he had no anchor. He was adrift, trying to keep his head above water, but the weight of everything—the teasing, the cruel comments, the feeling of never being good enough—was starting to crush him.

Lando rubbed his face with both hands, trying to shake off the fog in his mind. He wasn’t sure what was worse: waking up to the same pain day after day or the fact that he had become numb to it.

He moved through his morning routine on autopilot—brushing his teeth, throwing on his clothes, and glancing at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

His reflection looked like a stranger. The hollow eyes, the skin that had lost its color, the thinness of his frame—everything about him screamed broken. He ran his fingers through his messy hair, barely recognizing himself anymore. He looked like the ghost of who he used to be, but he didn’t care enough to fix it.

He grabbed his backpack and dragged his feet down the stairs. His mother was in the kitchen, humming softly as she made breakfast. Her presence was warm, but it felt like a distant comfort he couldn’t fully reach. She glanced up when she saw him.

“Lando, sweetheart, you look exhausted. Did you sleep okay?”

He gave her a small smile, the same smile he gave everyone else. It was fake, but it worked for now. “Yeah, just tired from schoolwork, I guess.”

She didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press further.

She never did.

She was too used to his evasions, to his distance. It was a language they both spoke, but neither of them fully understood.

Lando sat down at the table, picking at his food as his mother continued bustling around the kitchen. She glanced over at him occasionally, concern flickering in her eyes.

He hated it.

Hated the way she looked at him like she knew something was wrong but didn’t have the answers to fix it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked softly, a quiet plea in her voice.

But Lando couldn’t talk about it. Not to her. Not to anyone. How could he explain that the very air around him felt suffocating? That the moment he stepped outside of this house, he felt like prey?

That every day, he was reduced to nothing but the punchline of cruel jokes, the target of every sneer, every whispered insult? He couldn’t. No one understood.

He shook his head. “I’m fine, Mom. Really.”

She sighed, walking over and squeezing his shoulder gently. “I know you’re strong, Lando, but don’t shut me out, okay? Please. I’m here.”

He nodded absently, his throat tightening. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell her just how bad it was, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not because he didn’t want her to know, but because saying it out loud would make it too real.

So, he finished his breakfast in silence and left the house, the door closing softly behind him as he stepped out into the cold morning air.

The walk to school was long. Lando didn’t mind the physical distance—it was the emotional distance he struggled with. He didn’t belong here, not among these people who couldn’t see him for who he was, but only for what they assumed him to be.

The quiet, awkward kid. The one who always sat alone. The one who didn’t fit in.

When he stepped through the school gates, the weight of the world seemed to settle on his shoulders. His stomach churned with anxiety. The laughter, the voices of his classmates, it all felt so loud, so invasive. Everyone else was so full of life, so effortless in their confidence, and Lando was just… there. Invisible.

The first bell rang, and Lando made his way to his first class, head down, shoulders hunched. He always sat at the back of the classroom, as far away from everyone as possible. But that didn’t stop them from noticing him.

As he took his seat, a sharp whisper reached his ears.

“Look at Lando, he looks like a ghost today.”

Lando didn’t dare look up. The words stung, but he had long since learned to shut out the noise. He kept his eyes on his desk, his fingers digging into the wood as if it could ground him, make him feel a little less like he was disappearing into thin air.

Then, a loud thud.

Someone had thrown a paper at him, crumpled into a ball and aimed perfectly at the back of his head. He flinched, his heart racing as he slowly turned his head, his stomach dropping when he saw the smirk of Kyle, one of the worst bullies in his grade. Kyle leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming with malice.

“Didn’t think you’d notice, did you, Lando?” Kyle sneered. “Guess you’re too busy being a ghost to even care about the real world.”

Lando’s throat tightened. He wanted to say something back, anything to stop Kyle, but the words were stuck. His mouth was dry, his thoughts tangled in a fog. All he could do was stare at the desk in front of him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest, the heavy pressure building behind his eyes.

“You know, I’ve always wondered…” Kyle continued, his voice dripping with mockery, “how you manage to look so miserable all the time. Does it take practice?”

The laughter from the other students around him cut through him like a knife. Lando’s hands trembled, and he gripped the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. He just wanted to disappear, to escape to a place where no one could see him, no one could hurt him. But the laughter, the mocking eyes, the cruel words—he couldn’t escape them. They followed him, always there, no matter where he went.

When the lunch bell rang, Lando didn’t go to the cafeteria. The thought of sitting alone at a table while everyone else was surrounded by friends, laughing, talking—it made his stomach turn. So, instead, he wandered the halls, trying to stay out of sight.

But that didn’t stop them from finding him.

Ben, one of the more vocal bullies, approached him as he passed by the bathroom. Ben had a reputation for being ruthless, and he wasted no time reminding Lando of that.

“Hey, freak,” Ben called out, his voice loud enough for a few nearby students to hear. “You’re not going to cry, are you? Not like anyone cares about you.”

Lando flinched, but he didn’t say anything. He never said anything. The words were like a constant hum in the back of his mind, the same old insults, the same old jabs, each one sharper than the last. He felt so small, so insignificant, in the face of it all.

Ben shoved him against the wall, hard enough that Lando’s breath was knocked out of him. He gasped, his hand instinctively reaching for his ribs, but Ben didn’t give him a chance to recover. He leaned in, his face inches from Lando’s, his breath hot and sour.

“You really think anyone would miss you if you disappeared?” Ben sneered. “You’re not even worth bullying anymore. You’re just… nothing.”

Lando’s vision blurred, and for a split second, everything seemed to tilt. The words swirled in his head, louder and louder, until they drowned out everything else. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. His heart hammered in his chest, and his hands shook uncontrollably.

“Pathetic,” Ben muttered before walking away, his laughter trailing behind him like a ghost.

Lando’s knees gave out, and he slid down the wall, his back pressed against it as he tried to steady his breathing. His eyes blurred with unshed tears, but he didn’t let them fall. He couldn’t. Not here. Not in front of anyone.

He was alone. More alone than he had ever felt before.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, each class more excruciating than the last. Lando sat through them in a daze, his mind miles away, his heart too heavy to keep up with the lessons. He was barely aware of the time passing, only that the moments seemed to stretch on forever, each one dragging him deeper into the dark hole that was his mind.

By the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Lando was beyond exhausted. His body ached, his head pounded, and the weight in his chest felt unbearable. All he wanted was to go home, to curl up in his bed, and to forget everything that had happened.

But as he walked home, his steps were slow and heavy. He knew that the moment he stepped through the door, the world outside would still be there, waiting for him.

And for the first time in a long time, Lando felt like he couldn’t keep going.

At home, Lando went straight to his room. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the words from school echoing in his mind. They wouldn’t stop. They never stopped.

“Pathetic.”

“You’re nothing.”

Lando curled up into a ball, pulling his knees to his chest. His body shook with quiet sobs, but no one was there to hear. No one was there to hold him, to tell him it would be okay. He was just… alone.

But that was nothing new.

The only thing that kept him going was the thought of you. He closed his eyes and imagined your voice, your laugh, the warmth of your presence. But even that felt far away now, lost in the distance.

Lando wished more than anything that you were here with him. But he knew you weren’t. You were on your holiday, and he was here, battling the world on his own.

And as the darkness of the evening settled in, Lando felt it all—the crushing weight of his loneliness, the suffocating pressure of the bullies, and the overwhelming sense that he was trapped, with no way out.

You hadn’t been gone long—just a few days, a short family trip—but in Lando’s world, it felt like an eternity. Lando‘s life had been eerily dark without you. You were the person who could always brighten his mood, the one who made the oppressive weight of his world feel a little bit lighter. Without you, there was just silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of him pretending to be fine.

He wasn’t fine.

Not at all.

When you finally walked through the front door, the relief you’d been anticipating was bittersweet. You were home, well Lando’s home and your second one, but the weight in the air felt different. It felt heavier, suffocating, as if something was hanging over the house. You immediately knew something was wrong.

After dropping off your bags in the hallway, you made your way to the kitchen where you found Lando’s mother. She was sitting at the table, her face lined with concern as she folded laundry, but there was an undeniable weariness in her eyes. She looked up as you entered, and her face softened when she saw you.

"Y/n, you're back," she said, standing up and giving you a quick hug. But you noticed how she lingered, like she was unsure whether to tell you something.

“How’s Lando?” you asked, already knowing the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

Her shoulders slumped slightly, and she looked down at the laundry in her hands. "He's been struggling," she admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “It’s been hard for him lately. He doesn’t talk about it much, but I can see it. He’s barely leaving his room. I think… I think he’s just… really overwhelmed.”

Your stomach twisted. You had been gone for only a few days, but in that time, it seemed like Lando’s world had gotten even darker. Your heart ached, but you didn’t have the words to comfort her. You knew what he was going through, and it was breaking you to think about it.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll go talk to him. See if he’s okay.”

His mother smiled faintly, though it was clear that she was still worried. “I think he just needs someone. He’s been in his room most of the day. I don’t think he’s had the energy to face anything.”

You gave her a soft smile before walking toward the hallway. The door to Lando’s room was closed, but you didn’t need to knock. You just opened it quietly, knowing he wouldn’t have expected you back so soon.

When you entered, the first thing you noticed was how still everything was. The room was dark, the blinds drawn, the air thick with the weight of silence. Lando was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the floor. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, and for a moment, you just watched him—his hunched shoulders, the deep bags under his eyes, the way he kept his gaze fixed on nothing in particular.

“Lando?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He stiffened, as if startled, but didn’t look up. “Hey,” he muttered, his voice raw and weak. He didn’t sound like the Lando you knew—the one who always tried to hide his insecurities behind a smile or some quick wit. No, this was a different version. One that didn’t have the energy to pretend.

You stepped closer, feeling a pang in your chest as you saw how worn out he looked. “I’m back,” you said quietly. “How are you? Really.”

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, but his words didn’t hold the usual conviction. He avoided your gaze, his hands clenched at his sides as if he was trying to hold himself together.

You didn’t believe him. Not for a second. You knew him too well.

“You’re not fine, Lando,” you said, gently sitting beside him on the bed. “You don’t have to hide from me. Not anymore.”

He finally looked up at you, his eyes red and raw, tears still lingering at the corners. His lips trembled, but he quickly looked away, trying to fight the tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

The admission stung. You could feel the vulnerability in his words, the shame he carried even though there was no reason for him to feel that way. You reached for his hand, taking it gently in yours.

“You don’t have to apologize for this, Lando,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. And you don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

The words didn’t seem to reach him. His shoulders shook slightly, and you could see the tremor in his jaw as if he was desperately trying to hold everything together. But the cracks were already showing.

“I just… I just don’t know what to do anymore,” he choked out. His voice was breaking, thick with the weight of everything he had been holding in. “I can’t keep pretending, y/n. It hurts so much.”

Your heart broke for him. You knew he had been struggling with the constant bullying, the isolation, and the pressure to be someone he wasn’t. It was starting to destroy him from the inside, and you couldn’t stand seeing him like this.

He pulled his hand away from yours, rubbing his eyes, trying to push away the tears that kept coming. “I don’t know how to be strong anymore,” he muttered, his voice cracking with the raw emotion he had been bottling up for so long.

You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him before he could pull away. He stiffened at first, but then, slowly, he let himself relax into the embrace. The dam broke. His body shook with the force of his sobs, his head pressed against your shoulder as the flood of emotions poured out. You held him tightly, not saying anything, just letting him cry.

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, his voice barely coherent. “I don’t want to be like this. I just want it to stop. I can’t keep doing this.”

You felt his tears soaking through your shirt, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was being there for him, letting him know that it was okay to break, to not have to carry it all on his own anymore. You weren’t going anywhere.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and steady as you held him close. “It’s okay to cry. You don’t have to be strong all the time. I’ve got you. I’ll always be here for you, Lando. Always.”

But he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His sobs only grew louder, more desperate, as if the weight of everything he had been through—everything he had suffered in silence—was finally overwhelming him. He couldn’t hold it back anymore, and you weren’t going to make him.

For what felt like hours, he cried in your arms, each sob tearing through him like it was his last. You didn’t say anything more. You didn’t need to. You knew that he needed this, needed to let it all out, even if it seemed like there was no end to the pain.

Finally, when his cries slowed to soft sniffles, you pulled away just enough to look at him. His eyes were red and swollen, his face streaked with tears, but there was a softness in his expression now. He didn’t look as broken as before, just… exhausted.

“I’m so sorry for dumping all of this on you,” he whispered, his voice still hoarse.

You shook your head, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I’m here. I’ll always be here, Lando. You’re not alone in this.”

He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing just a little. Maybe, for the first time in a long while, he felt like he didn’t have to fight to keep it all together. Maybe, for once, he could just be himself—the broken parts and all—and you would still love him, still be there for him.

And that, in that moment, was enough.

Thank you for reading.

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x you #f1 #fluff #angst #nerdy!lando #bullying #au #formula 1 #formula one #heavy angst #breakdown #mental health

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