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leclercsluvs · 2 days

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LN4 | Our Forever Moment

an: i still don't really know how much i like to make written fics, but i have ideas for them so i'm going to continue to try and write them, i think. my first language is NOT english, so sorry if there's any mistakes <3 pairing: lando norris x fem!reader, vasseur!reader (this is gonna be fun, lowkey not important, gets mentioned like a few times because i forgot) warnings: swearing (like twice) inspired by: mine - taylor swift word count: 6.2k

As she’s being dragged to another race, she wonders when her dad is going to realize she's always running off and never in the garage of his own team, she doesn’t know that he’s fully aware she’s never there. She’s been welcomed by everyone she’s visited though, which does make him happy. She mostly goes to Mercedes and Red Bull, but lately Mclaren has been looking quite interesting.

“Are you going to stay in the Ferrari garage today? Or am I gonna have to send someone over to Red Bull or Mercedes to find you?" Fred looks at yn with a playful smile.

“I didn’t think you noticed.” She's quite shocked. He always seemed to switch off being a dad whenever they stepped into the garage, so it never even occurred to her that he even wanted her there.

“Who do you think sends someone after you at the end of the day?” He turns back around as they get closer, “I think you, Charles and Carlos would be great friends if you gave them a chance,” they turn and walk into the Ferrari hospitality. “Oh speaking of boys, have you found a boyfriend I need to approve of?” He quickly looks back to see her surprised face before he turns back to see where he’s going, even though he could probably navigate it blindfolded.

“Well first of all, you wouldn’t need to approve of him, this isn’t the middle age,” yn lets out a small laugh, “and second, all of my relationships have failed, you’re partly to blame for pulling me to almost every race, and then I guess I’m just not girlfriend material.” She follows her dad around, because even if she does get pulled to all races, she usually doesn't hang out here for more than 5 minutes before she’s off to find Max or George.

“Chérie, anyone not willing to spend the short time you're home isn’t worth your time,” he stops in his track turns around and puts a hand on her shoulder, “and I’m not sure if I ever said it, but if you truly would prefer to stay home and only travel to a few, that is fine. I would understand.”

She gives him a reassuring smile, “I know. You wouldn’t have been able to drag me out of the house if I didn't truly want to be here.”

He gives one quick smile before continuing walking, and before she knows it, she’s left to herself because he’s needed for something important.

~~~

It doesn’t take long for Charles to spot yn, sitting by herself, because apparently everyone else is busy today. “Yn? what are you doing here? I thought you’d be off doing something with Max?” Charles looks around to see if Max is around and he just hadn't seen him, but it’s a lost cause, which he should have realized, Max wouldn’t be seen anywhere near anything related to Ferrari. Except for Charles of course.

“No he’s busy. Everyone suddenly got busy.” She looks back down at her phone and the messages between her and her friend, however it would be rude to text back while Charles is in front of her, so she turns it off and stuffs it in her pocket. “I don't really remember the last time everyone, well except for you I guess, was busy at the same time.”

“Well, I’m meeting Lando and Oscar for lunch, do you want to join us?” Charles asks with a smile, flashing some cute dimples. Not that anything could ever happen between the two. As attractive as Charles may be, her dad was his boss, and nothing good was going to come out of that.

“I think I’d like that,” she smiles back as she picks up her bag with her essentials, “it’s nothing fancy right? I didn’t really get dressed for something over the top.” She looks down at the ripped jeans and the oversized t-shirt that she’s wearing. Not exactly the cutest outfit.

~~~

“So you still live with your dad?” Oscar asks curiously, they all seemed fairly happy she was invited by Charles. And Oscar, who she hadn’t really spent any time with, has been asking a lot of questions.

“I do. I may be 21, but living at home is just a little easier. And I like spending time with my dad, even if I run off to other teams at the first chance I get.” She answers as she takes another bite of her food. Lando has been awfully quiet and it didn’t go over yn’s head. She was fully aware of how glued his eyes were to his food.

“Is it weird? That your dad is responsible for a Formula 1 team?” Oscar almost forgets to eat, because of all the questions he’s asking.

“It was in the beginning, but I've gotten used to it by now,” she takes a sip of water. “Is he always this quiet?” yn looks at the way Lando is poking his food “and is he always just poking his food?” She questions, making Lando's eyes move up for just a split second and then back down to his food.

“No. He’s usually pretty chatty, maybe he’s just nervous for tomorrow," Oscar says, finally eating some of his food. “He doesn’t usually get like this before a race though,” Oscar leans his head a little to the side as if thinking about it, before poking a finger in Lando’s side making him jump a little. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Oscar asks.

“Maybe he’s got a new crush,” Charles jokes, taking a bite of food just as Lando suddenly coughs and gulps down water.

“Are you okay?” Yn asks as Lando suddenly gets up from his chair avoiding any and all eye contact.

“No, I’m actually not feeling so great. I think I’ll have to cut this short if I want to be good to go by tomorrow.” He quickly gathers his things as everyone looks confused. “Bye!” And then he’s out of there.

“Well that was weird.” Oscar says as he goes back to eating

“Do you think it was me?” Yn looks at the rest of the men sitting around the table, a little sad that she may have ruined their lunch.

Charles smiles. “Yes,” he says, looking at yn, “but in a good way. I think I might be right, even if it was just a joke.” He lets out a laugh. “I’m sure there’s some truth to it.” He goes back to eating, and so does yn, deciding that maybe she’ll talk to Lando in private.

~~~

On his way back to the hotel, Lando struggles to figure out his emotions. Of course yn is absolutely gorgeous. But considering she’s Fred's daughter he wouldn’t dare to think of her as anything but a friend. He may not race for Ferrari, but he still has a lot of respect for the man. And Lando knows about his reputation of not being able to keep his relationships going for long. Hopefully he can just subtly ignore her. Because the feelings, and thoughts he had during that lunch were not friendly. And before he even considers anything, he needs to make sure his feelings for her are romantic, and not just him finding her pretty.

~~~

Lando spent close to 4 months avoiding yn to the best of his abilities, and when he wasn’t ready and she caught him off guard he made up some weird excuse about needing to look at data, test the car, try some new Mclaren merch for photoshoots. Yn usually knew they were lies, and wondered why Lando was so set on avoiding her. To be quite honest, it brought down her mood, and she spent more and more time in the Ferrari garage and hospitality. Her dad sensed something was wrong. She was rarely there and suddenly she never left? Something was going on and he was going to get the bottom of it.

“I see you’re spending time here today,” Fred sat across from yn. She was eating lunch. Alone. That was how she spent most of her time lately. All alone. Lando had unknowingly made her really anti-social.

“I guess.” She poked a little at the salad she had bought. She didn’t really want it anymore.

“Did the others have plans?” Fred asks, looking around.

“I’m not sure.”

“Is something bothering you?” Fred asked, concerned for her daughter who used to have a lot to talk about. A lot of people to talk to, and who never spent time at lunch alone in Ferrari.

“Nope.” Fred sighed. He wasn’t going to get any answers. If it was because she genuinely just didn’t feel like talking today or if there was something wrong, he wasn’t sure. But he was gonna ask Max, or maybe Lewis to talk to her. He didn’t want her to be lonely. He got up from his chair. He had to get this started immediately.

Fred’s quest to find Lewis was surprisingly easy. He found the soon-to-be Ferrari driver hanging out with Charles and Carlos near their own garage. “Lewis! Can we talk?” Fred called out before he reached them. Lewis just nodded and started walking towards Fred.

“Is it about my contract?” Lewis asked cautiously. He knew he hadn’t been performing that great in the Mercedes this year and was afraid Fred was going to only make it a year so he could be finished with him.

“No. I need you to talk to yn. She's suddenly spending a lot of time with Ferrari, but alone. Which, as you may know, isn’t where, or how, she usually spends her time.'' Fred looks really concerned, and it’s like it’s transferred to Lewis immediately. He’s known yn ever since her dad started dragging her along. She would usually spend time with George when she went to Mercedes, but sometimes when George wasn’t there and she just wanted to be somewhere else, Lewis and yn would play some games. Usually chess. Lewis was definitely better than yn but she still loved it. They could often lose track of time and suddenly one from the Mercedes team would come and get Lewis to either do some media related stuff or because it was time to get ready for a race.

“Of course! Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her around Mercedes for quite some time now. I’ll see what I can do, if I can't figure it out, I'll have Max ask her. They’ve always had quite a special bond I don't understand” Lewis gives the man a reassuring smile and a clap on the shoulder “Don’t worry, we’ll get her back to her talkative self very soon.”

“Thanks Lewis,” Fred looks relieved, but only for a second when his eyes widen. “Do you think Max did something to her? To make her feel this way?” He looks around as if he's scanning the surroundings for Max. And good thing he isn’t around. It wouldn’t have been a good outcome.

“I doubt it. He’s always been nice. Especially to her,” when he realizes how that may sound to the man in front of him and the way his eyes narrow, he quickly adds “as a friend. Not romantically. I’m pretty sure he’s actually in a relationship.” Fred seems to almost relax at those words and gives Lewis a quick pat on the shoulder

“Hurry up and get my daughter back. I miss her.” and with that he walks off. Hopefully not to find Max. And if so, Lewis sure is glad he isn’t Max right now.

~~~

When Lewis finally finds yn sitting just on the outside of the track he’s surprised she was allowed. But then again she probably just mentioned being Fred's daughter and she was allowed. “Hey there. Looking cozy. Mind if I join you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just sits down next to her on the grass.

“What do you want?” She asks. Not really feeling the company right now.

“You haven’t been spending much time with George lately. Have you been spending more time with Max?”

“No.” Straight to the point. But not really the point Lewis was looking for.

“Have you been spending time with Charles and Carlos? Since you’re spending so much time with Ferrari at the moment?”

“Would that be a crime?” She looks at Lewis, and he sees something different. Her eyes don't look as alive as they usually do. They’re missing the glow that makes yn herself.

“Yn, is something wrong? You know you can talk to me. Or Max,” he waits for a second, not sure if he should continue, but as she starts plucking at the grass without answering he decides she needs to know. “Your dad is worried about you.”

“Oh.” She answers, plucking a few more grass straws

“Did something happen?” Lewis asks, trying a different approach.

“I don't know. Maybe you should ask Lando.” Lewis is unsure what Lando has to do with this entire situation, but he promised Fred to get to the bottom of it, so he will.

“Did he do anything?” Lewis is ready to fight Lando. “If so, I’ll gladly talk to him”

“Well, maybe he’ll talk to you,” yn shrugs and gets up from the grass. “I have no idea what I did to him. He seemed happy enough about me being invited to join him, Oscar, and Charles for lunch a couple months ago, and then during lunch he was so quiet, barely looking up from his food and then he suddenly said he wasn’t feeling great and needed to leave.” Yn turns around and looks at Lewis, tears starting to form in her eyes. “He has ignored me ever since. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him he either runs away or makes up some dumb excuse to get away from me,” she wraps her arms around herself as if to protect herself. “I’m sorry,” she says, shakes her head and turns around again and starts walking away. “I shouldn't have put all of this on you. I'm probably just overthinking it anyway.”

"Wait!" Lewis is quick to get up from the grass and gets a hold of yn’s arm, ”I’m glad you told me. Let me talk to Lando. See if I can figure out why he’s avoiding you. Maybe there’s a reason,” yn smiles a small smile, but it’s better than the empty expressions she's had lately. “Nice to see you’re still capable of smiling.” Lewis returns it with a smile of his own and guides her towards the Mclaren hospitality. “Now let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“Thank you. Not just for this, but also for always putting up with my bullshit.” Yn looks straight ahead. She wasn’t exactly planning on saying any of that, but oh well. It won’t hurt anyone.

Lewis just laughs and pushes her lightly. “You should be grateful. It's impossible to keep putting up with it.” If he wasn’t laughing while saying it, she would have been hurt, but she just laughs with him and follows him, to hopefully get some answers from Lando.

~~~

Lando was not expecting to see Lewis, so he wasn’t able to run off as quickly as he usually does, and when he spots yn behind Lewis, he tries to make up some excuse about having to talk to an engineer about a possible car problem but Lewis stops him. “Lando. That’s enough.” He puts a hand on Lando's shoulder before he gets a chance to run off. “Why do you keep running away from yn?”

Lando sighs, he can’t run away from it anymore. “I kinda would prefer for this conversation to happen between just me and yn.” He runs a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck.

Lewis looks back at yn, then at Lando, then back at yn, “are you fine with that?” He asks, while she nods and follows Lando into his drivers room

“So.” Lando starts, not really sure how to get the conversation going.

“Why have you been ignoring me for the past 4 months?” Yn asks, wanting to get this solved as soon as possible. “Did I say something that upset you so much during lunch that day?” Yn can feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she would like to get through this conversation without crying.

“No! Oh my god. Not at all!” He turns around because he’s not sure he can look at her while telling her this. “I think I might, sort of, have feelings for you.” The room is filled with silence. Lando is almost afraid she ran out of the room, If it wasn't for the fact he could hear her breathing.

“So you decided the best action was to avoid me?” Yn asks, with a playful grin. If she had known this was all it was she would have had someone talk to him earlier.

Her playful tone makes Lando turn around with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you or run off every time you tried talking to me. I was just afraid I would end up spilling a full love confession, and I’m not sure your dad would be too happy with that.”

“Well he doesn’t get a say in my love life.” Yn closes the distance between her and Lando.

“I suppose you’re right.” Lando takes a step forward, making the distance between them smaller.

“So are you going to be doing anything about it?” Yn tilts her head slightly.

“When I have planned it,” Lando smiles and takes a step back as he feels a vibration in his pocket. “Damn, I actually do have to go now,” a text from his engineer asking him to come back for a meeting. Lando grins and walks towards the door, “but you're totally free to stay here until I’m back. And trust me, I’ll be spending the entire meeting planning the perfect way to ask you out.” He flashes a quick smile before he's out of the door and yn is left alone in the room. But this time being all alone is different. She doesn't feel all alone. She’s the happiest she’s been in four months.

~~~

“I have the perfect plan.” Lando and Oscar are doing a track walk just to have something to do and make sure the track is fresh in their memory for the practice the next day.

“Yeah?” Oscar isn’t really sure it’s going to be as perfect as Lando thinks it is. “Are you totally sure about that?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, while taking in the surroundings of Monaco.

“I’m 100% sure.” Lando nods. He knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s in fact not going to ask directly. He’s made a fun little game, and got a few drivers in on it. “Just promise me to not ruin it when she comes to you.” Oscar sighs. He obviously isn’t going to spoil it.

“How are you going to ask her? If you aren’t doing it directly.”

“That’s a surprise.” And no matter how much Oscar pushes, Lando doesn't tell. Just smiles and shakes his head.

The next day when yn arrives at the paddock Alex greets her as soon as she’s arrived. “For you.” He says and hands her a letter.

“For me?” Her face is full of confusion as she opens the letter.

“Dear yn, I’ve made a little scavenger hunt for you. I hope you’re going to have fun. At the end you’ll find a surprise. Here’s the first clue.”

That’s the end of the letter. “So what's the clue?” If anything she's even more confused now, it doesn’t even say who it's from. It could be from George. But she doubts it. He’s never done anything like this before.

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Alex rushes and pulls a small lego car from his backpack. more specifically a Mclaren lego car.

“So I'm guessing I have to go to Mclaren?” She questions and looks at Alex who just shrugs. So that’s where she heads to next. Who knows how long this is going to last. She does think it’s going to be fun though. She’s always loved clues.

As she gets closer to the Mclaren garage she finds Oscar standing looking around holding a letter in his hand. As he notices her, he walks towards her. “Here. From a mystery man.” He says, hands her the letter and walks off trying to look mysterious.

Yn laughs and opens the letter. This time, there’s no text. Just a card. “Happy fathers day.” She reads out loud. That’s all the card says. “I guess that means i’ll have to go to my dad?” She wonders out loud. Would this person involve her dad? Would her dad want to be involved? “Hm, probably just ferrari.” She says as she notices the card is mostly red.

She walks over to the Ferrari garage but can't find anything and decides it might be at the hospitality. As she enters the building she notices Carlos standing with a smile on his face and a whistle in his hands. “Here you go.” He hands her the whistle as she reaches him.

“That's it? Not a letter? Anything to guide me more than-'' she looks down at the whistle now in her hand, “a whistle?” She looks back up at Carlos who looks around.

“Consider the first letter of the whistle.” He whispers and quickly walks off, whistling.

“The first letter of whistle is w. So..” she thinks for a second. “Williams?” She laughs and quickly walks over to the Williams hospitality, but to her surprise finds no one, and decides it must be their garage then.

Here she finds Logan happily holding a small boat toy. “For you.” He says and hands it to her. Happy to be included. She smiles and wonders if this is the last one.

“Thank you, Logan.” She sends him a smile and walks to the dock to find a boat. Not really sure which type of boat, big or small. But she’s determined to find it.

When she gets to the dock, she fears it’s going to take a long time, until she spots Charles casually sitting on a yacht. As she approaches she notices a full basket of red bulls sitting beside him. “I guess I’m going back to the track. To Red Bull. Their garage?” She is sure to get those 10k steps she’s supposed to get every day.

“Yeah, if you want something to drink on your walk, I have plenty,” he pushes the basked towards yn and gestures for her to bring it, “in fact, let me join you on the way back, I was only sent here to give you the clue, and I don't drink Red Bull, so I can return it.” He smiles and gets up, taking the basket full of cans. “Are you having fun so far?” Charles starts walking back towards the track with yn following.

“Yeah. It’s a lot of fun,” she answers as she opens a can of the regular Red Bull, "I'm excited to see who set all of this up though” she looks ahead and takes a sip of the can.

“I can’t wait for you to see who arranged it,” he says. And that’s all he says. Yn tries to get more clues about who it is, but Charles’ mouth is shut. He’s not letting anything slip. And they arrive at Red Bull way earlier than yn was expecting so she doesn't get nearly enough time to interrogate Charles about who it is.

“I see you’ve come to terms with the fact Red Bull is the best.” Max teases as Charles and yn are within hearing range of a normal voice. While holding a bouquet of flowers?

“Ha ha ha,” Charles smiles, as he hands Max the basket full of red bull cans, “I’m just keeping yn company, and decided to return these as I won’t be able to drink them.” Charles laughs and gets into a conversation with Max until yn clears her throat, reminding them she’s still there.

“I’m looking for a clue,” she says, begging that it's close to being over because she’s tired of walking from one side of the track to another over and over.

“Oh right,” Max hands her the bouquet of flowers he was holding. She takes them in her hand and her eyebrows furrow.

“What kind of clue is this?” She looks at Max whose eyes go wide.

“I forgot this.” He pulls a letter out from his pocket and hands it to her.

“Another letter. Is this the last one? I don't know how much more walking I can do.” She looks so defeated but reads the note.

“If you received this letter, that means you figured out all the clues. I know you were just there, but you can find me on Charles’ yacht. Where the big surprise is waiting.”

She looks up as she finishes reading. “He’s got to be kidding. I swear to fucking god, if this is George and he just made me walk from that yacht, back to the track and then back to that stupid yacht i’m going to go insane.” You look back at the letter.

“My yacht isn’t stupid.” Charles pouts as Max hits him on the arm. “Ow?”

Yn sighs, “I guess I’ll get going. Thanks for the flowers I suppose.”

“Oh they were not from me. They were from him. Just hurry up,” Max looks down at his phone, “practice starts kinda soon, and he can’t be late.” Yn starts walking back towards the yacht. She can't wait to kill the man that made her walk this much.

Lando however has been setting everything up ever since yn and Charles left. Strawberries covered in chocolate, and since he doesn't like chocolate, strawberries without chocolate, candles on a small table on the sun deck. As yn gets closer, Lando walks down to greet her. “I swear to fucking god George if this is yo-” her sentence gets cut short as soon as she sees Lando. “You set all of this up?”

“Yeah. You didn’t seem to like it that much?” Lando rubs the back of his neck. He wasn’t the best planner of a scavenger hunt.

“I kinda wasn’t the biggest fan of walking all the way out here, back to the track and then back here again.” She crosses her arms, but seeing the concerned look on Lando’s face she relaxes her arms and walks onto the yacht with a huge smile. “It was still kinda fun.”

They spend a little while on the boat, sitting with their feet almost touching the ocean. Lando is not really sure if he should put an arm around her or not. He decides not to move too quickly and they just sit next to each other. “Oh I almost forgot,” she turns and looks at Lando. “I was supposed to tell you to hurry up, practice starts soon and you can’t be late,” she looks down at the strawberries, “but you distracted me.”

“Oh shit!” He gets up quickly and puts his shoes on, “meet me at the track! I would love to spend some time with you between practice 1 and 2!” He hurries up and practically runs all the way to the track.

~~~

For the next couple of weeks Lando spends a lot of time wondering how quickly to move forward. They spend a lot of time sitting near water, almost like the first time, except they don't have access to Charles' yacht every day. Every time Lando wonders if he should put an arm around her, but he never does. Until one day, when they’ve been sitting at the end of the gangway on the dock, their feet so close to the water, if they stretched them out their toes would be dipped in the water, and Lando’s arm comes closer and closer to making its way around yn. “Just do it already,” she says and leans on him, putting her head on his shoulder, “I've been waiting for the last many weeks for you to do it.” Lando can’t help but let out a small laugh and put his arm around her.

“I wasn’t sure if you even wanted it.” He looks down at her quickly before looking back at the water.

“I've been waiting for you to make some sort of move, so I knew if it would be appropriate to do this.” She says, as she sits back up straight and puts her hands on Lando’s cheeks and pulls his face closer. He puts his hands on her waist and pulls her closer while making sure none of them fall into the water. Her lips meet his softly, a tentative brush that sends a wave of electricity through her body. The kiss deepened, growing in confidence, and everything else faded away. All that existed was the two of them.

When they finally break apart, Lando puts his forehead against hers, a smile stuck on his face. He would never be able to forget this moment, and she wouldn’t either. “I’ve dreamed of this moment ever since that time Charles invited you to lunch.” Lando shares, not aware that yn has shared the same feeling since he shared that he had feelings for her.

“I was sure you’d do something about it sooner.” Yn lets out a small laugh and leans against Lando’s shoulder as he puts his arm around her.

“I was too afraid you didn't want to,” he says and lets out a sigh. “And I guess I just never thought to just ask.”

“Well, you should have.” She smiles, before looking up at him, and he can’t help but smile back. They sit like that for a while. Just enjoying each other's company.

~~~

A couple weeks later, when they’re lying on the couch in Lando’s apartment, watching a movie, yn can’t help but smile, thinking about this moment, and how she never thought this would be a reality in her life. “Can you believe it?” She says in a soft whisper, her voice barely even audible.

“Believe what?” Lando asks, while his other hand mindlessly runs through the soft strands of her hair.

“This. Us. I never thought I’d be in such a happy relationship while traveling so much.” She says, softly tracing small circles on the back of his hand, that’s draped across her waist.

“Well I’m glad you're happy,” He says, placing a kiss on the top of her head, earning a soft hum from the woman. “You know, you could bring some stuff here. Just enough for a drawer if you don’t want to get too serious.” He mumbles, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck.

She can’t help but smile, because she had been thinking of asking. “That would be nice, especially considering how much time I spend here.” She brings his hand up to her lips and places a soft kiss there, before going back to the movie.

~~~

It didn't take long for her to basically move in. It wasn’t official, but it might as well have been. She spent more time there than she did at her own home. But Lando didn’t mind. In fact, he loved having her there. They even started spending time together publicly, whether that was around Monaco when it wasn’t a race week, or if it was in the paddock. The fans had noticed how close they had gotten, and speculation quickly began. Were they a couple? Just friends? No one knew. Did Fred? No. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew something was going on, but he didn’t want to ask. But he didn’t mind, as long as yn was happy. And she was, for the first couple of months. And then it seemed like Lando had other priorities. Of course she knew racing was important to him, and she didn’t expect to suddenly be on the absolute top of his priority list, that would always be F1 and she knew that. However, that didn’t stop the feeling of neglect starting to spread through her. She knew he had a packed schedule, but she would often find herself wishing he had more time for her, yet it just seemed he got less and less time for her.

As the relationship between them progresses, small arguments make it to the surface. Usually sparked by the fact yn feels unimportant, or that Lando misses a date or an anniversary. It’s never his intention, and he always makes it clear that he loves her, but as it continues to get worse and worse, she begins to question it. She even stops believing him 100%.

It was 2 am. Lando had just returned back to the hotel after the race in Singapore. He silently opened the door to the room he was sharing with yn, expecting her to already be sound asleep on the bed, but to his surprise she was sitting up, leaning against the headboard with the bedside lamp on.

“Can we talk?” She asks, her voice soft but filled with a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course.” Lando quickly closes the door and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Look, I know racing is extremely important to you, that it’s everything to you, but,” she pauses for a moment, not really sure how he’s going to take this. “What about us?” She asks, her voice shaking slightly.

“I know it’s been tough, and I’ve not been the best, but I’m under a lot of pressure right now,” Lando looks up at her and he can see the way his words hurt, and he can’t help the defensive tone that creeps into his voice. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice? You’ve always had a choice! You chose to sign up for all those PR events. All the additional promotional videos. Do you know how it feels to always be the last thing on your mind?” Her voice raises a little as the frustration takes over, and she searches Lando’s eyes for a reaction, just some sort of reaction.

“I never wanted you to feel that way,” Lando sighs and looks her in the eye, he genuinely never wanted her to feel like she was his last priority. “But this is my career, it’s what I’ve worked towards my entire life.”

“And where do I fit into that? When you talk about your future, you’re talking about your next race, the next podium, the next win. I can’t continue to just sit back and wait for you to finally have time for me. I can’t continue to just be a spectator in your life, Lando.” The hurt is visible on her face, and she turns away momentarily to look out the window. The rain is subtly falling outside, and small drops of water roll down the window.

“I thought you understood when we got together.” He says, trying to defend himself. “This is my life, my dream. I never wanted you to feel like you're not important.” His voice softens, but his tone is still defensive as he tries to avoid addressing the core issue.

“I did understand. And I’ve been nothing but supportive, but it’s been months of you forgetting a date, or something else. And I’m not asking you to quit racing, I would never do that. All I’m asking is that I become a priority too. Because right now it feels like you’ve made a choice. And it’s not me.” Tears start to swell up in yn's eyes, and Lando is at a loss for words. He never wanted it to get to this point, but he doesn’t know what to say. He looks away, and that’s the last straw for yn. She swings her legs off the bed and grabs her suitcase that she packed as soon as she returned from the race, since they were planning to leave early in the morning anyway. “I’ll give you some time to think about all of this. But I won’t be waiting forever. Figure out if this is something you want. Because I can’t keep doing this.” And with those words she leaves the hotel room, and into the elevator.

She walks out into the rain, with tears flowing freely from her eyes. She stops and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want it to end between her and Lando, but she also can’t continue to just be a bystander in her own relationship. As she grabs her suitcase and is about to begin walking she hears Landos voice. “Wait!”

She turns around and sees him walking in long strides toward her, the rain already drenching his hair. “I don't want to lose you. I’ll never leave you alone again,” he says as he reaches her. “I remember how it felt when we were sitting by the water on our first unofficial date. Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He places a hand on her cheek and gently rubs his thumb along her cheekbones. “Please don’t leave. We’ll make it work. I’ll make time for you. You’ll be my first priority, I promise.”

She looks up at him with an aching heart at the raw emotion in his voice. For a moment she wants to believe him, to just forget all the missed moments, but the pain is still too much.

“You say that now, but what happens when life gets busy again?” She asks in a whisper, her voice shaking as she speaks. “What happens when I become the last thing on your mind again because something else takes priority?”

Lando’s hand trembles slightly against her cheek, but he doesnt pull away, and neither does she. The rain falls a little harder, and their breaths are visible in the cool air of the night.

“I won't let that happen.” His voice is filled with an urgency, a need, that she’s never heard before. “I know i’ve failed you, but this time-”

“”This time,” she interrupts him and takes a step back, resulting in his hand slipping from her cheek. “How do I know this time is any different?” She looks at him with tearfilled eyes, waiting for an answer she might not want. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Lando takes a step closer and his eyes are filled with so much love and hope.

“Because this time, I know what it’s like to lose you,” his voice is trembling and he pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. “And I can’t. I can't lose you.”

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soaps-mohawk · 2 days

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

What Could Have Been

Summary: You've reached the age you can be chosen. Little do you know your future has been planned out from the start.

Pairing: Philip Graves x reader

Word Count: 7, 358 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, Omegaverse, Alternate Universe, AU of an AU, suggestive content, mentioned predatory behaviors towards a minor, Philip Graves is a major creep, reader has a set age for plot (she is an adult), dubcon (pushing noncon at the end) but it's muddy water because a/b/o, kissing, touching, lingerie, panic, coercion, virginity and purity culture, fade to black because I couldn't write smut for this

A/N: I am...very sorry for this. Honestly I've been debating posting it but I wrote 7k words and I don't want that to go to waste. This is very...dark. A lot is implied but there's still some fairly disturbing content because of those things. The reader is 18 in this because of plot, but it still feels very...icky. Definitely recommend reading Chapter 34 before reading this to understand the context. Not necessary to read. Just an AU what if kind of bit for the story.

Also if you're finding this and you've never seen my stuff before, Hi! I highly recommend reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood first before this for context otherwise some things might not make sense. I suppose it could be read as a stand alone but still, context is nice to have

What Ifs Masterlist | Directory

“You’ve been chosen.”

You had barely managed to get a bite in of breakfast when one of the staff members had pulled you away and led you to the director’s office. None of the omegas at FIOT particularly like him. He’s a small man, middle aged and balding. His scent is...not pleasant. Nutty with undertones of wet animals and whatever he ate for his meals that day. Every omega in the institute dreads being called to his office, being closed in with the offensive smell he permeates.

You would have been experiencing that same disgust had it not been for your shock at his words. “What?” You breathe, eyes wide.

“You’ve been chosen.” He repeats, folding his hands on his desk over a thin file.

“So soon?” You ask, forgetting all decorum and manners you’ve had drilled into your head for two years.

It’s your eighteenth birthday today. You just became old enough to be chosen a matter of hours ago.

“This pack is very eager to claim you as their omega.” He says. “One of their betas will be by tomorrow to interview you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. While it’s shocking you were chosen so soon, this is what you had hoped for. Two years of training and drilling perfection into your head did pay off. You’ve hardly been on the available list more than a few hours and already there’s a pack interested in you. Something about it has a chill running down your spine, tickling at the base of your neck. You brush it off as shock at this all happening so soon.

“You may return to breakfast.” The director says, going back to his paperwork.

“Thank you, sir.” You say, exiting his office.

It doesn’t feel like your feet touch the floor as you walk back to the mess hall, your body floating as you make your way through the halls. If tomorrow goes well, this will be the last day you spend in this building, this prison you’ve been confined to. They’ll be here as early as they can be tomorrow, if they’re this eager to choose you.

The thought has something prickling in the back of your mind still.

Who are they? Who is this eager to choose you? The must have known about you before you even showed up in the registry as being available. You’ve heard rumors that institutes will supply information about omegas to packs for the right price under the table. Information on omegas that aren’t old enough to be chosen.

You wouldn’t be surprised if FIOT was one of those institutes. The packs that get their omegas here are packs that can pay a hefty price. There’s usually a waiting period while background checks are done and information has to be verified and packs have to interview with the director before omegas themselves can even be interviewed by the pack. You’ve seen it take weeks before.

Whoever the alpha of this pack is...they knew about you before you became available.

“What did the director want?” One of the omegas in your age group asks as you take your seat at the table again. Amanda. She cried for five days when she was brought in.

The others at the table lean in close, like you’re about to reveal some big secret.

“I’ve been chosen.” You tell them. The words almost seem like a foreign language on your tongue.

They all cheer happily, getting looks from the wardens around the mess hall.

“That’s amazing!” Chelsea says, wrapping her arms around you to squeeze you in a tight hug.

“So soon?” Amanda asks as the congratulations die down.

“Yeah.” You say. “They’re interviewing me tomorrow.”

They all share looks, and you know they’re thinking the same thing you are.

The rumors are true.

“Impressive, isn’t she?” The warden for your dorm group says, as if you’re not sitting there too. She’s responsible for overseeing the small group of eight omegas you’re a part of. She’s the most knowledgeable about the omegas under her watchful eyes, and it’s standard practice for the wardens to sit in on the interviews between the pack beta and the omega being chosen.

“Quite.” The beta says, looking over your thick file. Bryan, he’d introduced himself as. He’d shaken your hand, something you hadn’t been expecting. He acknowledged you as existing right away, something that doesn’t happen often in the stories you’ve heard about interviews, stories from omegas that had made it this far in the process, but were rejected in the end. “Excellent scores, quite extensive essays.” He says, flipping through the file. He’s not really looking at it. You can see his eyes just scanning the pages. He already knows. He came into the building with his answer.

Whoever his alpha is has already seen your file.

He closes the file, pushing it forward on the table. He’s looking at you. You can feel his eyes on you. Yours are lowered respectfully, no matter how badly you want to stare back at him.

“To be honest, my alpha already made his decision before I got here.” Bryan says, leaning his arms on the table. “Your profile was enough to convince him.”

“So, you’d like to move forward with the process?” Warden Jameson asks.

“Yes.” He says, nodding. “She’s going to be a perfect fit.”

You glance up at him, a warm smile on his face as he stares at you. It’s really happening. You really have been chosen.

The next hour is a flurry of paperwork and signatures. None from you, of course, but from the beta of your new pack. The paperwork would be sent to your new alpha to sign off on and to finalize the decision once you meet him. No one has ever been sent back after that point, yet you can’t help the nervous flutter in your stomach. What if they don’t like you after all? What if they made a hasty decision and regret it as soon as they meet you? What if you mess everything up?

You follow Bryan and the director towards the entrance to the building, something you haven’t seen since your tour after your arrival. It’s off limits to omegas, several locked doors standing between them and freedom.

Or more like to keep others out.

There’s someone at the front desk as you pass by, and you turn to look out of curiosity. It’s a middle aged woman with blonde hair, dressed in a business suit. “Kate Laswell, here for an appointment with Director Jones.”

You don’t get to hear anything else, ushered out into the world by the director. You’ve heard how giddy he gets about omegas leaving from staff, though you supposed that’s because it’s extra money in his pockets. The more omegas he can match and get out of FIOT, the more the government pays him.

“I’m looking forward to hearing how she’s settling in.” The director says to Bryan as he hands off your small bag of meager belongings.

“Of course.” Bryan says, setting it in the front seat of the car waiting out front. “My alpha will be in touch.”

“Good.” He shakes Bryan’s hand before turning to you. “Good luck. I expect the best from you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, dropping your gaze out of respect.

Bryan opens the car door for you and you slide in, smoothing out your skirt. You’re still in your uniform, and you won’t be able to change until you get to where you’re going. If they let you change. It’s important they remember where you came from, where you were taught the things you’re supposed to know, where you were trained to be the perfect omega. As if they could forget where they paid for you.

Bryan drives away from the institute, taking you away from the place that’s been your home for the last two years. It’s the first time you’ve been outside those walls since you were forced in, ripped away from your home the day after your presentation. You’ve thought about your family many times over the last two years. Where are they now? How are they doing? What have your siblings been up to? Have any of them presented as omegas too?

Maybe your new alpha will let you contact them again.

It’s wishful thinking. Most don’t. Not the kinds of alphas that buy from FIOT.

“Nervous?” Bryan asks, glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

“Yes, sir.” You say, smoothing your hands over your skirt. You’re projecting your scent without even realizing it. “Sorry, sir.”

He smiles. “I don’t blame you. I’d be nervous too. Don’t worry, though. You’re going to a good place.”

Despite his well meaning words, you can’t help but feel a bit of trepidation. Is it a good place? Or is it only a good place by beta’s standards? He can’t possibly know, he can’t possibly understand, unless there’s other omegas.

You’re almost excited by the thought of being around other omegas in a pack. Having that chance to have friends and bond with others like you who know. Those who understand.

You can’t help but stare as Bryan pulls into the parking garage of a very nice hotel. The cars in the parking garage are some of the most expensive you’ve ever seen. You’re not surprised, given the types of alphas that choose omegas from FIOT. Rich, important alphas looking for trophies to wave around.

Look at me, look at my perfect omega.

Bryan opens your door for you, helping you out of the car. He’s holding your bag in his hand, using the other to guide you towards the elevator. His hand is warm, even though your back is beginning to sweat a bit. You’re really nervous now, but you try to keep your scent under control.

Your new life is about to begin, the life of a claimed omega.

Unless they don’t like you.

You have to do everything in your power to make sure they do.

The elevator ride seems to take a lifetime as you go up to a high floor overlooking the city. You’ve never stayed in a hotel this nice before. You’ve never even been in a building with this many floors before.

Bryan leads you down the hall to a door, using the keycard to open it. He gives you a reassuring smile before pushing it open and guiding you through. It’s a suite, possibly the nicest hotel room you’ve ever seen. Bryan leads you to the small living area, the man you assume is your alpha seated on one of the couches. He’s sitting there casually, ankle crossed over his knee, his arm thrown over the back of the couch. There’s a grin on his face, your eyes widening as you stare at him.

“Phil?”

It comes out before you can stop it, all training and decorum leaving as you stare at him in shock. His smile widens, showing off perfect white teeth and dimples. He’s a bit older now than he had been back then, but it is him.

“Hi darlin’.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Been a while.”

Ten years or so. He was your dad’s best friend while he was stationed in Texas. He was at your house constantly, sitting around watching sports and standing in the backyard while your father barbequed. He was always friendly to you, always sitting just a little too close, always hovering. You hadn’t thought anything about it back then. You were too young to understand.

Now you do.

You drop your gaze as he approaches, trying to recover from your shock. You still have an impression to make, a role to fill. Calloused fingers cup your chin, lifting your face back up. You stare up into Phil’s bright blue eyes, just as friendly as you remember them being.

“None of that.” He says softly. “We’re familiar with each other, aren’t we?”

“Yes, sir.” You say, swallowing thickly.

A small smile tugs at his lips before he releases you. “Come on, make yourself comfortable.” He motions to the couches. “We've got a few things to discuss.”

Nerves twist in your stomach as you move to the couches, tucking your skirt under you before you sit. The couch is comfortable, your body sinking into the cushion. It's far more comfortable than the chairs and benches at the institute. He takes a seat right next to you, draping an arm across the back of the couch behind you.

His fingers curl under your chin again, turning your head so you're looking at him. Those bright blue eyes scan your face, taking in every detail.

“Those pictures didn't do you any justice.” He says. Your file is sitting on the table in front of you. “You've always been a pretty little thing.” His thumb traces your jaw, your stomach churning. “Look like your mom more than your dad. That's certainly not a bad thing.” He smirks.

He holds you there for a moment staring into your eyes. Something tickles in the back of your mind as he stares at you, something instinctual like a warning. He releases you, dropping his hand back onto his lap.

“It's good to see you again.” He says, the fingers of the hand behind you playing with the strands of your hair. “A lot has changed, hasn't it? I got old, you became an omega. I always knew you would. Your temperament wasn't right for an alpha. Always so calm and eager to please. You weren't rowdy like your brothers. Always such a sweet little thing.” His fingers trail over the back of one of your hands where it's draped in your lap. Your stomach clenches at his touch, something churning inside you, something you haven't felt since the last time you were around him. “You didn't deserve the way he treated you. It wasn't your fault for becoming what you are.”

He's talking about your father.

“How did you-”

“I was the one he called.” Phil says simply. “Raging and carrying on about his useless child presenting as an omega.” He shakes his head. “So I pulled some strings, promised some favors, and got you into FIOT immediately, with the stipulation that you would be mine as soon as you were old enough.” He grins. “Now here we are!”

You swallow thickly, staring at him. “It was you?”

He nods. “Had to make sure you'd be taken care of until I could come yet you myself. Now you’re here.” His arm wraps tighter around you, the hand that had been brushing yours dropping to wrap around your thigh. You stare up at him as he leans down slightly closer to you. He smells just like you remember. Woody with the rich scent of chocolate underneath. “I will take care of you.” He says, looking pointedly into your eyes. “You'll want for nothing and you'll be happy.”

Will you?

You break away first, your eyes dropping to stare at the hand that’s gripping your thigh, fingers indenting the skin through your tights. It feels like a threat, a silent reminder of the power dynamic between you, something he won’t say out loud. He’s an alpha, you’re only an omega. He has control over you, he can dictate your entire life now that you’ve been chosen by him. You belong to him, just as he’s wanted.

He’s been waiting longer than two years.

“You hungry?” He asks, his entire demeanor suddenly shifting.

You are hungry. You had left the institute just before lunch, and you had barely been able to eat breakfast because of the nerves. You nod, deciding telling the truth is better than to try to lie to him early on. “Yes, sir.”

He gives you a grin. “You don’t have to be so formal. You can call me Phil, just like old times.” He finally releases you, leaning forward to grab a tri-fold menu off the table. “Pick whatever you like.” He says, putting it in your hands. “I’ll be right back.”

He gets up from the couch and you watch him go before turning back to the menu. The prices make your stomach churn. Your family wasn’t necessarily poor, but with so many of you, you certainly weren’t taking very many vacations very often. Your family moved around so much there wasn’t much of a need to take vacations either.

You’re not even sure what to do, looking at the menu. What was acceptable? What if you ordered something too expensive. With a hotel room like this, you’re not sure you could order something too expensive. You’re not even quite sure what Phil does anymore. You remember overhearing a conversation he had with your dad about joining MARSOC before he disappeared from your lives. Is he still involved with the military? Did he leave and enter a new career field, one that allows him to stay in places like this?

You might never know. It’s not your job to know things like that.

You just need to know how to serve your alpha and take care of him, follow his orders and give him pups when he desires them. Be a good omega and do whatever it is he wants. Your wants don’t matter, only your alpha’s.

“Decide what you want?” Phil asks, appearing in front of you again.

You jump in surprise, having been so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t noticed him approaching. You’ll have to break that habit and fast. “Yes.” You say, even though you hadn’t even read through the menu in its entirety.

You try to stop your hands from shaking, picking out the first thing your eyes land on. You’re not even quite sure what it is or if you’ll like it. You needed an answer and you gave it to him. Just exactly what he wanted.

That is your job, after all.

Give him exactly what he wants.

The bed looks plush and comfortable, larger than you’ve slept on in a long time. The beds at FIOT weren’t too terribly uncomfortable, but you’ve gotten so used to sharing a room it seems strange to be sleeping on your own.

That’s not the only reason it feels strange.

“Are you not going to-”

Phil cuts you off before you can finish, not even needing to know what you were going to ask. “No. Not here.” He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s for when we’re at home. Besides,” He smooths a hand over your hair. “You’ve had a long day.”

He stares down at you for a moment, and you almost think he’s changing his mind, deciding he can’t wait until you’re back in Texas. Instead he takes a step back, turning to the dresser your bag had been set on. There’s other shopping bags next to it, things you hadn't even noticed when you walked in.

You had been too focused on the bed.

“Bryan picked up some clothes.” He turns back to look at you, his hand trailing down your back. “As cute as the uniform is, I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You can see it in his eyes. He’s picturing you in it, and not standing before him. It makes your skin crawl.

“Get some sleep.” He says, moving his hand from your lower back. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow. You need anything, I’m across the hall and Bryan’s next door.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Thank you, Phil.”

He grins down at you, dimples indenting in his cheeks. “Of course, darlin’.”

You stare at the door for a minute after he closes it, holding your breath. You half expect him to come back in, change his mind and decide he’d rather do it here. He could barge in, force you down on the bed and you wouldn’t be able to do anything. You’re not supposed to do anything.

Good omegas do as they’re told. Good omegas don’t fight back.

You wish the door had a lock on it.

You jolt awake as you’re jostled in your seat. You let out a quiet sound, not quite sure where you even are, much less what’s going on.

“Just a bit of turbulence.” A voice says, pushing your head to rest against a shoulder again.

Right. You’re on a plane heading towards Dallas. You didn’t realize you fell asleep, your head resting on Phil’s shoulder. He smells like scent blockers, all three of you do. The plane is a cocktail of scents, the chemical burn of scent blocker mixed with the ugly mesh of too many scents in one confined space. Not everyone has the decency to use scent blockers while traveling. You’ve always hated planes for that reason.

You stretch your legs out as much as you can, your knee bumping the tray lightly. It had been lowered, you assume, at some point while you were asleep. Your book is sitting on it, the book you had been reading before you fell asleep. It’s the only one you own, a worn out copy you stole from FIOT’s library during your first week and never returned. The cover is faded and nearly falling off, the pages yellowed and stiff from how many times it’s been read over the last two years.

You’d had a brief discussion about it before you descended into silence, Phil promising you all the books your heart desires once you get to his home. Your home.

It’s your home now too. You’re no longer attached to your family, no longer attached to the institute. Phil is your world now, and you exist solely in his sphere. You’re dependent on him, and once the claim is made and the paperwork is filed, you will be his forever.

There won’t be any going back.

Phil will never change his mind.

The plane jostles again and you grip the arm resting on your leg out of instinct.

“Easy.” Phil shushes you, his lips brushing your forehead. His hand closes around yours, squeezing it gently. “Haven’t flown much, have you?”

“Twice.” You say, your fully awake brain realizing you’re still leaning against his shoulder, but you’re not sure you should move. He obviously likes it if he let it happen. Will he get mad if you try to move? Would he reprimand you on the plane, even if you are quite spaced out in first class?

He hums, resting his cheek on your head. “We’ll go on lots of flights together. I’ll take you all over the world.”

Would he take you to see your family again?

They were friends once. He has to at least know where they are and what they’re doing. Would he do that for you? Or is he going to keep you isolated as expected to prevent those bonds from forming again. Your only bonds should be with him and his pack. Not your old pack that you left behind for a reason.

You don’t know anything about his pack.

You know he has a beta, Bryan, his most trusted beta, from the looks of it. How many others are there? How many other alphas and betas? Is he head alpha, or is there someone else? You can’t imagine Phil not being in charge. He always seemed to take command of a room, even with other alphas. Even with your dad.

Are there other omegas in his pack? Or will you be alone, surrounded by alphas and betas?

Can you even ask him? Or is he saving that for later, when you’re at his home. Would he get annoyed if you asked? Would it ruin his plan that he obviously has laid out?

Your name being said brings you back to reality, your head tilting to look up at Phil. He’s staring down at you, his eyebrows raised.

“Welcome back.” He says, and for a second you wonder if you fell asleep again. “Lost in your head there, huh?”

You swallow thickly. “Yeah. My instructors said I have a lot of strengths, but my one fault is I think too much. Sometimes they’d say I’m sucking all the thoughts out of the room. Though, I think that was less of an insult towards me.”

Phil chuckles. “Got a lot of things going on in that head of yours. Just don’t let it get you too distracted. Hate for something to happen to you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead again as the plane begins its descent.

His words almost feel like a threat again, like a silent warning that something will happen if you don’t stop thinking so much. Will he try to fix that habit for you? Will he try to break you of that? Good omegas don’t have to think, they know and they act. An omega with too many thoughts is too independent. Alphas don’t like independent omegas. They want someone to listen and do as they're told, not question their orders.

You can’t help but sense the silent threat that radiates from him, the undertone of danger that has warning bells going off in your head. He’s been nice and polite and caring so far.

How long will that last once you’re in the privacy of his home?

It’s a nice neighborhood. Nicer than you’ve ever lived in, at least. The houses are big, the cars parked outside are nice, the lawns are pristine. It’s all very picturesque, it all feels very...manufactured.

Phil drives to the end of the cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of one of the two houses facing the rest of the street. There’s an American flag hung up on the porch rustling with the soft breeze. It’s warm outside, something you haven’t missed. It’s been years since you’ve lived in Texas, ten almost. You had been eight years old when your father received his next change of station orders and your family packed up and moved again.

That had just been shortly after Phil disappeared from your family’s lives.

Phil pulls into the garage, parking the SUV next to a rather expensive looking classic sports car. You stare at it for a moment, questioning just what Phil does and how much he makes from doing it. You’re not sure you want to know.

You fumble with the seatbelt as Bryan opens the door for you, blinking yourself out of your haze. He offers a hand and you let him help you out of the car to not seem rude. Phil gives you a small smile as you approach him.

He cups your chin, staring down at your face. “Jet lagged?” He asks, his thumb stroking your jaw before letting you go.

Jet lagged, confused, uncomfortable, unsure. All of the above.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Come on. I’ll give you a tour and then you can nap.” He says, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

He opens the door into the house, unlocked, you note. The inside is nice. Clean, pristine, staged looking. You’re not sure if anyone even lives in the house. You can’t help but wonder if Phil bought this house just for this moment.

“Cleaners come twice a week.” He says as he leads you around the first floor. “This whole space is yours, except for this room.” He says pointing out a door at the end of one hallway. “This is my office. Door’s always locked at all times. No one is allowed in besides me. You see anyone trying to get in, you tell me right away. Understood?”

You nod. The idea of what could be behind that door has a shiver running down your spine.

“Good girl.” He says, booping your nose. “Now, for the best part.”

He leads you upstairs, giving you a quick tour of guest bedrooms that don’t look like they’ve been touched, bathrooms far too clean to have ever been used. Why he needs so much space is beyond you.

No, you know why.

He leads you down to the end of a hallway, a door looming in front of you. You know what’s behind it. It’s what’s been clawing at you since the plane landed, since the drive from the airport, since you stepped foot in Phil’s home. Your home.

It’s nice inside. Clean, well organized. It looks like a stage in a movie. The bed is large, larger than necessary you think. The comforter is a deep navy with nothing but the necessary amount of pillows on it. There’s a chair in the corner that doesn’t look like it’s ever been sat in. A TV hangs on the wall across from the bed and a dresser sits between two doors on the far wall. The closet and bathroom you assume. It’s spacious, but not comforting.

That’s your job.

“Don’t worry, you can add your womanly touch to it later.” Phil says, stepping up behind you. You can’t hide the way your body tenses as his hands slide up your arms. His breath fans over your ear as he leans down, pressing his face against your neck. “We’re going to make good use of this room.” His lips brush your throat, tongue darting out to lick your scent gland. He hums appreciatively. “Sweeter than I remember, those strawberries.” His arms wrap around you, pinning your back against his chest. “We were made for each other.”

Your stomach clenches as his scent intensifies, blending with yours. You try not to panic as his lips drag up the side of your neck. There’s no stopping him. There’s no convincing him to wait.

He presses his nose into your hair, taking a deep breath in. “Get some rest.” He finally releases you. “I’ve got some things to take care of, and I don’t doubt the girls will want to take you shopping.”

“Girls?” You frown, turning to face him.

“The other pack omegas. They’re excited to finally meet you.”

Oh. You haven’t even thought about the pack or how big it is or its dynamics. Everything has happened so quickly, there’s been no time for discussions like that. You suppose you should have that conversation soon. Though, it’s been a long day already and he’s not wrong. You do need some rest.

‘A good night’s sleep is essential for omegas to do their jobs effectively. No alpha wants a whiny omega.’

He brushes his hand over your hair, giving you a soft smile. “Take a nap. You look like you need one.” He presses a kiss to your forehead before he leaves, closing the door behind him. You stare at it for a long moment, half expecting him to change his mind, but you can hear him going down the stairs. You can hear everything in the silence of the house. It’s almost too quiet after the constant noise of the institute. There’s always someone talking, moving around, making noise. Even at night it was never truly quiet.

Now the silence is almost loud in your ears.

It won’t be silent forever.

You stare at the bed, half tempted to just curl up on the floor. He would be mad if you slept in one of the guest rooms. He’d know immediately. You’ll have to brave the bed. Better to do it now than when you have no choice.

“Look at you!” Hands squeeze your arms. There’s so many scents floating around you, yet it’s comforting. You’re among your own again. “Oh, you’re just a baby aren’t you?”

Natalie, her name is. You had been introduced in a flurry of excitement, and you had lost track of most of their names. Doesn’t matter, you’ll learn them all eventually.

Her alpha is Osmond, ‘Oz’ as he’d told you to call him, Phil’s second alpha. Not necessarily a large man, but highly intimidating nonetheless. You’d guess Natalie to be in her 30s, though you’ve never been good at guessing ages.

“How old are you, sweetie?” She asks, squeezing your arms again. She’s trying to comfort you in your obvious state of overwhelm.

“Eighteen.” You answer, staring up at her.

Something flashes across her face, but it disappears as quickly as it arrived. “You are a baby.” She wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Come on, we’ve got a lot to cover and we’ve got some errands to run.”

There’s a lot of omegas. Phil had finally broken down the pack and its dynamics over a late lunch, even introducing you to a few members on your way to Oz’s house. You had your suspicions that Phil was pack alpha, and you were right. His presence, the kind of power he radiates. You’re going to be the head omega once Phil has claimed you. Natalie has been serving that position, as second alpha’s omega.

You’re not sure you want to take it from her.

They’re all older than you, if by only a couple of years. You do feel like a baby in their midst, so unprepared and unsure. It’s natural to feel that way, you were taught. There’s a shift, a change in dynamics, an adjustment period in the pack when a new omega is added.

Why couldn’t Phil have just been the family alpha type?

“Phil says you’ve known him for a while.” Anna, Marcus’ omega, says.

You nod. “He was friends with my dad when he was stationed in Fort Worth.”

“That was a while ago.” Jenny says.

“About ten years.” You say.

Silence falls in the room for a moment. It’s a tense silence, speaking volumes of their understanding and the realization of the situation. They won’t say anything. They can’t say anything.

“Well,” Natalie says, breaking the silence. “We’re glad you’re here. If you need anything at all, you’ve got us now.” She wraps her arms around you again. She reminds you a bit of your mother, perhaps if your mother hadn’t been constrained by the controlling nature of your father. “All omegas truly have is each other, right?”

The others agree with her, and you can’t deny it. What do omegas really have? Nothing their alphas don’t want them to have. Nothing parents, institutes, anyone in control don’t want them to have.

All we really have is each other.

“I mean it.” Natalie says. “Anything at all.”

They are excited to take you shopping, despite the heaviness of the conversation that had transpired. They spoil you, throwing bags and bags in the back of the SUV, brushing off any concerns about money. Anything you want or need, you get several of them. It’s overwhelming after never getting anything but the bare necessities and what the institute wants you to have.

Marcus, one of the higher ranking alphas in the pack, follows everyone around like a security detail. You had been concerned upon hearing only one alpha was accompanying you...until you saw Marcus for the first time. He’s big. Very big. Tall and bulky, he’s the perfect specimen of an alpha. Many young omegas’ dream alpha. Marcus is intimidating, letting off a dangerous air which causes most that pass your group to not even give you a second glance.

He escorts your small group around, offering up no question or complaint. You almost wish he was going to be your alpha, but then again, you know almost nothing about him. You don’t even really know that much about Phil. Most of the things you know are things you overheard from conversations he had with your father. But how trustworthy are those things, really? You hadn’t understood much until now. Now it all makes sense.

A lot of things make sense now.

Natalie stands with you on the sidewalk as Marcus and Bryan carry load after load of bags into Phil’s house. Your house. You’re scared for what’s coming tonight. Phil won’t wait. He won’t put things off, he won’t hold off until your first heat. He’ll want to make things official now, stake his claim as soon as possible. He’s waited ten years for this.

Natalie smiles softly down at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “Nervous?” She asks, picking up on your uneasy energy.

You nod, trying to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. Good omegas serve their alphas, no matter what.

“I know what that’s like. I was scared shitless too.” She laughs quietly. “I think Oz was just as nervous too. Just relax and breathe. Phil will take care of you. That I can be confident about.” Her smile turns almost bittersweet. She knows. She understands. “You’ll be alright. I’ll come by tomorrow morning, okay?”

You nod, trying to suppress your nervousness. Natalie will understand, though you’re not so sure Phil will.

You look terrified as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You bathed an hour ago and yet you still can’t quite bring yourself to leave the bathroom. You smooth your hands over the silk hugging your skin for the thousandth time. You’re shocked you haven’t worn through the thin fabric yet with your sweaty palms.

Your eyes dart down to the sink, your stomach churning wildly as the bedroom door closes. Phil is back. You’ll have to leave the bathroom soon. You can’t spend the whole night behind the locked door.

You don’t doubt he’d break it down eventually.

Then he’ll be angry.

You let out a long breath, curling your hands into fists to stop them from shaking. You have to do this. This is your job, your duty as an omega. Serve your alpha and make him happy. Be a good omega and do what he says. Obedience is an omega’s purpose. This is always what was going to happen, be it with Phil or with a stranger. Perhaps there is a small comfort in the fact you know Phil. You’re familiar with him. Why would he wait ten years for you just to hurt you?

The little food you managed to eat churns uncomfortably in your stomach. Phil had treated you to dinner before he’d left again, giving you time to clean up and prepare yourself for tonight. For right now.

You spritz more scent-enhancing perfume on your skin before you let out a long breath. You try to fix your face, not look quite so terrified, but you’re not sure you can hold it as you unlock the door, turning the knob.

The light in the closet is on, the door half open. Phil must be in there, likely having to maneuver around bags. You’d unpacked some things and put them away, but you’d nearly had a breakdown when you reached the lingerie store bags. You’re wearing some of it now, the silk robe and little white number your fellow omegas had gotten you. Specifically for tonight, you think. You won’t be wearing it again.

The closet door opens fully, Phil standing there in nothing but his jeans. His eyes trail your body as you stand there awkwardly in the middle of the room. His teeth sink into his lip, his scent thickening. You’re trying to look anywhere but at him but you can’t help the way your eyes are drawn to his form. He’s just as tall and muscular as you remember, more lean than bulky like your father had been. His skin is pale, though you can’t imagine him spending much time lounging in the backyard by the pool. Under the awning at the grill with a beer in hand as he used to do, that you can picture.

“Look at you.” He says, turning off the light before stepping fully out of the closet. “All wrapped up like a present just for me.”

You feel like vomiting as he approaches you slowly. You feel like a rabbit trapped in the sights of a hungry wolf, too afraid to run, too afraid to fight back. You’re going to be devoured and there’s no stopping it.

You jump as his hand cups your face, your eyes darting up to his. There’s a soft look in them, an attempt at soothing your fear. There’s nothing he can do to make this easier, though, other than just get it over with.

It’ll get easier. That’s what Anna told you. Eventually your omega will be happy, content with a good alpha and a pack. It’s just an adjustment. That’s why it’s recommended to wait when adding a new omega. Get past the adjustment period before reaching this stage.

How do you stop an alpha that’s been waiting ten years?

Most alphas don’t wait anyway.

“Don’t be scared, darlin’.” He says, lips tilting up in a smile. “I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers tug at the ties of the robe around your waist, your heart thudding in your chest. You’re shocked he can’t hear it. It’s pulsing in your ears, nearly blocking out all sound as he pulls the tie free, revealing your lacy lingerie underneath. He lets out a low whistle as he pushes the robe off your shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.

“Look. At. You.” He says, enunciating each word. His hands slide down your sides, brushing lace and smooth skin. “Can’t wait much longer.” He nearly groans, his gaze darkening. He steps up closer to you, your gaze locked on his. You can’t look down, you can’t stare at the tent in his jeans, you can’t stare at the bulge that’s brushing against your pelvis with every breath. “You ever done this before?” He asks.

You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat. “N-No.”

“No?” He raises a brow. “Not even a kiss?”

You shake your head.

“Pure little thing, all for me.” He nearly growls, pushing his body fully against yours. His hand cups the side of your neck, something tingling in the back of your brain as his fingers brush the sensitive skin on the back of your neck.

You’re distracted from that tingle though as he kisses you, his lips rough against yours. You’re not sure what to do, but he doesn’t seem to care. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tight against him. Your stomach is churning, not entirely from nerves anymore as his scent completely takes over, clouding your mind. Despite your nerves and hesitation, your omega purrs appreciatively. He smells good, like alpha. It’s exactly what your omega wants, what she’s been craving.

“Fuck,” He groans against your lips, hands tugging at the lace covering your lower back. “So fucking sweet.” He bites at your lower lip, harder than you're expecting. You let out a quiet nose but that only seems to encourage him.

He pulls away from you, turning you towards the bed. Your palms fall against the mattress to catch yourself. The comforter has been pulled down, your hands falling against the sheets. White sheets.

Phil’s hands drag up your back until it reaches the top of the lace. He rips it easily, tearing it down the back before he pushes it off your shoulders. His hands run over your skin as he pushes the lace from your body, his back meeting your chest. His skin is warm against yours, his bulge pushing up against your ass at this angle.

“Sweet little omega.” He growls, pressing his face into your neck, inhaling deeply. “All for me. All mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, alpha.” You say, fingers curling into the sheet beneath your hands.

He hums appreciatively, nipping at the skin over your scent gland. You can’t help but begin to feel a stirring in your stomach. It feels good, despite everything. Your omega is growing complacent, the promise of what’s coming not nearly quite so frightening.

It gets easier.

Phil’s hands rest on your stomach, pushing your body tight against his. “Can’t wait for your next heat.” He groans, pushing his hips against your ass. “Gonna pump you full until it takes, give you a pup like you’ll be begging for. Keep you pumped full, just like your mama, huh. You’ll give me a big pack, won’t you?”

You’re glad he can’t see your face as he holds you there, your eyes glued to the white sheet in front of you. You desperately fight back the tears blurring your vision.

“Yes, alpha.”

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #alternate universe #au of an au #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha philip graves #omega reader

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itneverendshere · 1 day

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the way i can see rafe rolling his eyes when he hears you yell across a party for jj to knock it off in picking a fight, and laughs at jj when he listens to you, and is like an embarrassed little dog.

a perfect world where rafe realizes he and jj are the same person in different fonts <3 thank you for the request, i love jj in this lmao😭🩵

you say you got it & you have to let me see - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

The annual boneyard party was in full swing, and like clockwork, someone was trying to start shit.

You stood close to Rafe, your hand loosely gripping a beer bottle as you watched the mess unfold in front of you. "JJ!" you called out, voice loud and clear across the sand. "Knock it off!"

Rafe felt the corner of his mouth twitch, suppressing a grin. It wasn't even surprising anymore.

JJ Maybank—still the same hot-headed teen who grew up a few doors down from you—was in some guy's face, already half a second away from getting clocked.

His first instinct was to roll his eyes. Every year. Every damn year, JJ managed to start up some bullshit. Rafe glanced down at you, saw how your brow furrowed in annoyance, and the urge to laugh took over instead.

It was kind of funny, watching JJ go from ready to swing to immediately backing off the second you opened your mouth.

JJ turned like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar, hands half-raised in defense as he looked at you with wide eyes. “Chill! I wasn’t even—”

"Yeah, yeah," you cut him off, pointing your beer in his direction. "Save it. Just walk away, okay?"

And, of course, he did.

Like a scolded puppy, he muttered something under his breath before shoving his hands into his pockets and trudging off. Rafe snorted, shaking his head. "Little brother still listens to you, huh?"

You shot him a look, half-smiling. "Someone's gotta keep him in line."

"Yeah, well," Rafe glanced at JJ’s retreating figure, still chuckling under his breath, "It's funny watching him tuck his tail between his legs every time."

He wasn’t usually one for parties like this anymore—too many reminders of who he used to be—but being here with you made it easier. You grounded him. Three years of dating, living together, dealing with life’s shitstorms, and somehow you still managed to make everything feel lighter.

You narrowed your eyes, “Don’t think you’re so different from him Mr. No one talks down to my girlfriend.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he took a long sip from his beer, savoring the burn of the carbonation on his throat. You had him there. Not that he was gonna admit it. “That was different,” he drawled, flashing you a smirk.

“Uh-huh,” you said, arching an eyebrow. “How, exactly?”

He scratched at his jaw, the familiar prickle of stubble reminding him he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “I mean, I didn’t throw a punch every time. Just made it clear no one’s gonna talk shit.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corners of your lips twitched. “You’re lucky I love you, Cameron.”

Rafe’s heart did that stupid thing it always did when you said stuff like that, even after all these years. He could play it cool all he wanted, but you knew how to get to him. Always did.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, stepping a little closer, his body blocking the cool breeze coming off the ocean. He could smell the saltwater and smoke, but all he cared about was the warmth radiating from you. He took a swig of his beer, watching the flames from the bonfire dance against the night sky. “How many more times you think you’ll have to pull him out of a fight tonight?”

You tilted your head, thinking for a second before shrugging. “Depends on how much he’s had to drink.”

JJ was like a golden retriever sometimes—quick to rile up, but just as quick to bounce back. Rafe watched him for a second, the way he moved through the crowd, all ego and no direction. It reminded him of himself when he was younger. He chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s gonna make it hard for me to take him seriously if you keep saving his ass.”

"Like you’ve ever taken him seriously," you shot back, giving him a playful shove.

True. Rafe couldn’t remember a single time in the last few years where JJ had been more than an annoyance.

"God, it’s like he’s still twelve or something," you muttered, shaking your head. You took a step closer to him, your arm brushing his. The firelight flickered in your eyes, making you look impossibly warm.

The kind of warmth Rafe had gotten used to over the years. The kind he was lucky to have. He turned to face you, an easy smile forming on his lips. “Yeah, but at least it’s entertaining.”

You smirked. "For now. I give it an hour before he’s passed out in the sand."

He tilted his head, giving you a mock-serious look. “You wanna place a bet on that?”

You squinted at him like you were actually considering it. “What’s the wager?”

Rafe leaned in, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Winner gets to pick what we do tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but knowing exactly what he’d want if he won. He could feel the stupid velvet box burning in his pocket. He carried it everywhere, hoping he’d man up and do it already. He couldn’t do it now—not here, not like this, not with JJ stumbling around somewhere in the background and the sound of half-drunk partygoers laughing around you.

“I don’t know. Maybe spend the day out on the boat. Just the two of us.”

“Alright, deal,” you said, holding out your hand for him to shake, “Sounds nice.”

Nice wasn’t even close to what he had in mind.

He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled you in closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let out a small laugh, leaning into him. The beer bottle in your hand dangled lazily at your side. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Rafe let out a breathy chuckle, turning his head to capture your lips with his. The kiss was slow, lazy even, like there wasn’t a party around you. “Still think I’m cute, huh?”

You gave him a look, lips curving into a shit-eating-grin. “When you’re not acting like JJ.”

He groaned, tipping his head back dramatically. “Don’t compare me to that fuckin' idiot.”

You just grinned, pulling away slightly, though your hand stayed on his chest. “Relax. You’re cuter, baby.”

“Damn right,” Rafe muttered, tugging you back to him. He liked having you close like this—reminded him that no matter how much shit had changed, some things stayed solid. You. Him. This.

He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the familiar scent of your hair, and let out a contented sigh.

JJ had somehow found another beer, and as Rafe glanced his way, he saw Kie giving him a hard time, probably for almost getting into it earlier.

“You think they’ll ever figure it out?” you asked, following Rafe’s gaze.

“Who, JJ and Kie?” He shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. “Maybe. Probably not, though. They’re both too stubborn.”

You hummed in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder. “Sounds familiar.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, we turned out alright, didn’t we?”

You smiled up at him, the firelight dancing in your eyes. “Yeah, we did.”

Just as you and Rafe were starting to get lost in your own little world, a sudden shout cut through the noise of the party. Rafe glanced up and spotted JJ again, this time charging toward some guy who was standing way too close to Kie.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

JJ's posture tense, fists clenched at his sides, and his voice already rising in that familiar way that screamed trouble. "Hey, man, back the fuck off!" He growled, pushing the guy away from Kie. The dude barely had time to react before JJ was already up in his face, looking like he was seconds away from throwing a punch.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Rafe muttered under his breath.

Without a second thought, he downed the last of his beer and started striding toward fight. You followed, a little concerned but mostly impressed by how quickly he handled it. He was always the one who kept things calm now—so different from his hot-headed younger days.

“Maybank!” Rafe’s voice boomed across the beach, and you could hear the change in tone.

He was done playing around.

JJ, too focused on trying to defend Kie’s honor, didn’t even hear him. Rafe didn’t hesitate. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt, pulling him away from the guy before anything could escalate further.

The younguer blonde whipped around, ready to argue, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Rafe. “Dude, I—”

“Start walking,” He hauled him a few feet away, practically dragging him while the other guy quickly disappeared into the crowd.

You couldn’t help but watch the way Rafe took control of the situation, handling JJ like a dad trying to wrangle a rowdy teenager. You could see the way he deflated in response. He’d grown to respect Rafe too much to keep pushing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Rafe said, his grip still tight on JJ’s shirt. “You’re gonna get yourself knocked out one of these days if you don’t stop acting like you need to throw hands over every little thing.” JJ scowled but didn’t say anything, and Rafe shook his head, letting him go. “Seriously, Kie can handle herself. And if she needs backup, that’s what we are for—not you getting your ass handed to you every time some guy breathes in her direction.”

JJ kicked at the sand, muttering something under his breath, but he knew better than to argue. Rafe’s voice softened a little, seeing JJ’s shoulders slump. “Look, I get it. But not like this. Not here.”

He nodded once, reluctantly, and Rafe gave him a rough pat on the shoulder before turning back to you. He caught your eye, and you felt the pride bloom in your chest. The way he handled himself, the way he diffused situations—it wasn’t just about being strong anymore, it was about knowing how to lead, how to take care of the people he loved. And, honestly? It was a turn-on.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on him as he came back over to you. He looked so composed, so solid, and that arm of his, the way he pulled JJ back without breaking a sweat—it had your mind going places. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk on his lips.

“What?” he asked, already knowing you were checking him out.

You stepped closer, trailing your fingers up his arm, feeling the strength in the way his muscles flexed beneath your touch.

“Nothing,” you murmured, biting your lip as your eyes met his. “Just proud of you.”

Rafe chuckled, his hand slipping around your waist, pulling you against him. “Proud, huh?”

“Mhm,” you whispered, pressing yourself closer, feeling the warmth of his body. “It’s kinda hot.”

“That what does it for you now? Me playing babysitter?”

You laughed softly, your hand still resting on his arm, fingers trailing along his bicep. “Not just that. The way you handled it. You’re just—”

Rafe’s hand slid down your back. “Just what?” he asked, his breath hot against your neck.

You bit your lip, feeling your heart pick up speed. "Strong.” You smirked, letting your hand slide lower, down the curve of his chest. “Kinda makes me wanna—”

He cut you off with a kiss, his mouth moving against yours with a kind of slow intensity that had you melting into him. His hand gripped you tighter, pulling you even closer, because he could never have enough of you.

When he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you a little breathless, he smirked down at you. “You keep talkin' like that, we might need to leave this party a little early.”

You grinned up at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Might not be the worst idea,” you teased, your voice low. “Think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

Rafe chuckled, his lips brushing against your forehead before he pulled away just enough to glance over his shoulder, making sure JJ wasn’t about to start up more trouble.

When he saw everything was calm, he turned back to you, “Let’s get outta here, baby.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

He pulled you in close as you reached the car, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, making your head spin all over again.

"You're somethin' else, you know that?" he whispered against your lips, his hands sliding up your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Get in the car, Cameron.”

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inchidentally · 3 days

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Inch what is your opinion on this clip? https://www.tumblr.com/eightyonefour/762429464940527616/what-kind-of-guyteammate-is-oscar

It makes me sad that Lando isn’t able to find a lot of words to describe Osco ;-;

ohhh anon I know for most ppl this is all so boring and not interesting but the way excitable!nervous!shy!butextroverted!fidgety!sassy!emotional!squirmy!insecuresometimes!pleaseloveme!whydoyouhateme?!seeIknewyou'dloveme!creative!sexualconfidence!HORNY!travelstheworldintechnicolor!babyfever!workaholic!Lando exists against calm, placid, self-assured, does his job well,what's the point in doing less than his best, work life balance, lowkey, rational, good with kids but talks to them like adults Oscar makes me so emotional for god knows what reason ??? ;_;

but to Get Into It, I know this is the choppiest messiest compilation I've ever done but hopefully it'll be both self-explanatory and also go along well w my usual dissertation on something that has no real life importance for me but that makes me Feel Things

x x x

so the main thing with how Lando's stops for long periods to think and mull it over is for two reasons: one is that he hasn't done the usual PR aspect of his rs with Oscar the way he has with other drivers/teammates - and the other is that if he found Oscar dull or uninteresting then he wouldn't have had to sit and think aslfgsaljfgsajl. Lando's rly good with the media and honestly this answer would've been rly easy and quick if he could just say "yeah he's very fast and a good guy! hard worker and solid teammate!" bc it's not like anyone is expecting any more about a guy like Oscar anyway!

and with everyone else, Lando's got lots of anecdotes and jokes and shared activities as well as lots of experience interacting on camera in ways that give fans something to enjoy. it's not being disingenuous, it's just that they can easily tailor the friendship to be useful for publicity.

but !!! it's also the case of all of Lando's friends on the grid being extroverts as well as being great on camera. and Lando maybe could be seen as an extrovert but he's also naturally (self-confessed as well as confirmed by those closest to him) painfully shy and he relies on extroverts around him to help him out a lot. I got this ask that we don't even need proof of bc it's exactly how Lando is when he's alone among strangers or around huge crowds. same with when he has to do publicity stuff all alone the thinking silences stretch and he gets that upward inflection where he's trying very hard to see if the other person knows what he means??

and Osc is very much not an extrovert and while he likes the odd shared activity, he has said he prefers quiet conversation in small groups away from public places. so literally ! the ways he and Lando are compatible are simply in enjoying spending time together and being extremely low pressure friends who don't like the publicity aspect encroaching on that.

so how do you describe someone to a stranger if they're just quietly a good, reliable person who you like and work well with ?? Oscar himself needs a fair amount of prodding and encouragement to describe himself, let alone Lando being asked to do it !!

which I think is why landoscar has actually had this strong resonance for a lot of us who have those kinds of friendships or love those kinds of people - you can only see it and get to know it by observing it and knowing it in a way yourself. the way Oscar stares at Lando and does his little self-assigned duties to Lando and the way Lando watches Oscar in that wide-eyed trusting way and lets his brattiness out bc Oscar will always find it endearing. none of that makes for snappy PR content but if you get the vibes then it's so so sooooooo sweet ;__;

it's also why their dynamic lends itself so much to fic authors bc you've got a strong foundation of their authentic dynamic since they can't/don't fake it or play it up, from which you can put them in any scenario or any roles and they just… write themselves! not in a sense that the author isn't putting the work in as a writer skfgalsfg but the strongest thread among landoscar fic is that dynamic always coming through so consistently (even in the more challenging dark fic or out there AUs) the classics I can think of first off are playdate by debrief, that one from work can come over on monday night by higgsbosonblues and q&a by corsi

the common development of how Oscar is so blatantly changed by Lando in ways that seem either superficial or purely practical so that Lando ends up initially missing out on the depth of what that means - and misinterpreting Oscar not changing emotionally for him as disinterest. only to find that when someone who is solid and reliable and knows who they are decides they love you, they show it by changing their life for you and not changing themselves for you.

and that irl considering that Oscar always says how important it is for his relationship with Lily that he spend time with her that isn't connected to his career/life's passion, it's clear that he considers that to be proof of how much he cares. so all of the little ways Oscar bends and adapts and fulfills Lando's practical needs are ways for him to say "I value you" "I make you a priority in my life" "I want to fit you into my life" "I am willing to give up something/change something for you"

like idk how much Lando realizes the significance of those things and that's how I interpret him spending a very long time mulling and thinking rather than just getting past the answer in a neat, succinct way. bc Max F is a very emotionally intelligent guy and very capable of expressing his feelings, all of the guys on the grid are varying levels of emotional awareness/intelligence but they all have the same regular expectation of using their words to express how they feel about friends, and ofc the people surrounding Lando for the past ten years are highly attenuated to his needs. Oscar stands out as this very very different person to what he's used to!

and lastly, there's the whole gentleness and communicating through their kitten smiles and their ways of getting lost on a random subject - they're just such a quiet, gentle introverted dynamic. there's this moment after Japan last year waiting for a train, as well as this moment from Vegas where the crowd is singing happy birthday to Lando that I think are like, poetic levels of how their shyness/introversion fully matches up. bc neither of them feels easy or comfortable actually interacting with the crowd, so they keep looking to each other and smiling for comfort and reassurance. if another driver from the grid were around they could probably rely on him to brazen out the situation, but these two kittens just find solidarity in each other to get through!

so a lot of what makes landoscar a flop for bromance-only ppl is what a lot of us love about it <3<3<3 like I love a good bromance and self-aware PR ships too but landoscar made me want to get an f1blr and write insane pointless dissertations about them so shrug emoji !!

#inchreplies #landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #landoscar meta #inchidentallyanessay

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noobsoconfusing · 2 days

Text

‘pothead? more like pot no head!’ hamzahthefantastic

summary: hamzah and you get high together very often, however this time is different, as you both take too much and end up greening out in different ways.

warnings: awkwardness, inexperienced hamzah and reader, cum, cringe.

>_<

“holy shit! holy f-fuck!” hamzah rubbed his heavy eyes, staring half lidded at your limp body passed out on his lap.

damn, he felt so overstimulated. his senses failing on him, per usual.

the smoke surrounding the living room –and yourselves– felt thick, almost like he could munch on it if he wanted to, and each time he breathed in he felt even more zooted.

and ow, fuck! you looked so beautiful. the light freckles, almost invisible, surrounding specific areas of your face, and then some imperfections that hamzah considered perfect on you –the same he considered ugly on him– you had dark circles under your eyes, and messy hair that covered your face almost entirely, but still he was able to peek at your flushed cheeks.

‘no! hamzah, stop! she could be fucking dead!’ –he thought to himself, regaining an ounce of consciousness through the warm haze that filled his brain and body.

“hey…” he shook your body, trying to keep his eyes off of your torso, though it was almost impossible for him. hamzah’s eyes drifted down, sheepishly admiring how the oversized shirt you were wearing –that yeah, in fact was his– rode up..

but as he kept shaking your body with his bigger hands, he realised you were far gone. that, of course, scared him shitless.

“oh my god..!” hamzah considered calling martin, but it was roughly 4 am, he wouldn’t be awake.

hamzah felt like he was losing the ability to breathe properly. his heart was beating so fast and blood going to every single direction inside of his body.

literally every single direction. fuck. oh no.

“y/n, are you… are you awake?” hamzah saw double lines, so fucking high. “oh god she’s dead, she’s fucking dead…” he felt like crying he was so fucking panicked.

and the scene was quite funny, tense even. how was he going to tell the police that you guys got super high that you probably had a heart attack? even worse! how was he going to explain the stupid fucking hard-on he had been resisting to beat since the fucking weed settled on him?

crying with a stupid hard-on was pathetic. crying stoned out of his damn head, with his possibly dead roomie laying next to him was dumb.

everything was dumb! nothing made sense to him at that moment, ugh, so confusing!

crying next to the girl he yearned for, the girl he liked since he first saw in that roommate application was beyond pathetic. and you were both high.

“oh god, please!” he yelled so fucking loud, which made you scramble out of your slumber. “i know you hate me! doesn’t matter cause you’re uh, like, you’re dead, but oh god! i like you.. so much and.. man i just…wanted to smoke with you… maybe make out… maybe even dip it! but y/n please don’t, uh, don’t kill me in my sleep too! oh my fucking god!” he rambled as he slurred his words from how high he was.

hamzah had this problem. one of many. where he would overthink and panick and talk his brain off as if his body had no power over him, only his thoughts. that maximised when he was zooted.

due to his extreme yapping, you found yourself awake on the couch, but you couldn’t move or speak. your limbs felt floaty and numb and your body felt so lightweight that you wondered if you were human still.

but hamzah’s greened out voice was getting on your stoned nerves

“mmm…” you slowly opened your eyes, red as fuck. “hamzah, a-are you tweaking?” your voice groggy after smoking only turned him on even more, and he felt so bad for thinking lewd stuff about you.

his eyes blew up wide, like two round red leds. he threw himself into your smaller frame, engulfing you in a big hug. he groaned out of satisfaction.

groaned again when he felt your body so close to his. so warm. so soft.

“holy fuck! you’re not dead! oh shit, y/n i fucking love you, i love you i love you, god i was scared shitless..” as high as he was, he meant it, he had been wanting to admit that for such a long time but sober he didn’t have the balls to.

you gave into the embrace and snuggled closer to his warmth. his words vague, though you cherished them and how sincere he sounded, it was almost impossible to concentrate in that state of mind. all you could do was enjoy the proximity.

so comfortable, so nice, and..

“im sorry im hard..!” hamzah pulled away from the hug to look down at his almost unbearable boner. his eyes wide and glossy like marbles looked at you like a kicked dog asking for help.

you see, in his right mind he wouldn’t even mention it, he wouldn’t even look at its direction. but he was definitely not in his right mind, right?

he surely knew how to silence a room.

“huh?” you stared at him confused and rubbing your right eye, pouting. looking like a fucking goddess. so cute. so beautiful it made hamzah wanna just explode.

here comes the world vomit. high trait of his.

“im sorry i have a boner. like, okay, it’s so painfully hard that i feel sorry because weed, well, weed makes me super fucking horny and on top of that you’re here and i think you’re so pretty and i love you so oddly much… im sorry i got a boner,” he swallowed the knot inside his throat. “i am sorry, so sorry. i love you though? is that weird? do you think it’s weird?..”

seconds that felt like hours passed and you would just switch stares between hamzah’s reddened face and the notorious bulge inside his grey sweats.

he felt like dying. and you were just sitting there, looking fuckable and so pretty, and he was just melting there waiting for a reaction from you, trying not to burst like a teen.

hamzah almost felt as if the high was gone from how nervous he got, but feeling sober was way worse.

you got closer, but it was like you were being pushed by an invisible force. like a magnet attracting you to hamzah’s shivering body.

your hands trembled badly.

no, you did not know what possessed you to crawl over him and caress his face, he was sweating cold, and his eyes far gone intoxicated.

“w-what are you…?” you laughed at how he pronounced the sentence, your giggles almost like a whisper.

tension so dense it could be cut with a knife

the eye contact was stupidly intense, both of your gazes drowsy and tired, eyes heavy and itchy from the smoke around you.

when your hand moved south, hamzah’s eyebrows knitted together and his mouth fell open wide, choking a whine. it was extremely weird how a little touch could make him feel so excited, and got him even harder, if it was even possible…

“dude, you’re bricked…” you said, feeling him up through the grey sweats.

he subconsciously thrusted his hips upwards to your hand, which you quickly moved away, earning a pathetic moan from him.

“nooo, owww!” he pouted, eyes teary.

it was funny.

“no! hey!..” he pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to place it over his boner again, but you giggled at his impatience and swatted his bigger palm away. “y/n! p-please, h-hey, you can’t just..” he shrieked desperately. “please?”

hamzah was willing to jerk off right then and there, not minding your presence. even better for him, he would cum to your image, to your feel, to your sight.

that would totally cross the roommate line, wouldn’t it?

neither of you were experienced though, and as fucked up as you were, you also didn’t wanna ruin it, ruin whatever was going on between you two.

you got too nervous. nervous at the sight of him so fucked out over nothing. you never had a guy like that, never so desperate for you. or a guy at all. hamzah made you feel so stupid, so weird inside. so warm.

oh, so nervous…

“uh, do you want another hit?” suddenly, you got up looking for the rest of the blunt. too lightheaded to function. too nervous to continue. a good excuse.

hamzah stared at you in disbelief. then down at his pants. then at you again. he smiled, but it was such a hot smile. he looked so good, so fucked up.

“we are pretty cooked though, don’t you think?”

you shrugged. “whats the worst that could happen?”

so you grabbed the special blunt on the night table, and the lighter too. slid it into your mouth and lighted the pre rolled, you inhaled and swallowed the smoke in, turning over to hamzah and then blowing out the smoke on his face.

he stared at you with his mouth wide open, trying to take some of you in. so drunk on you.

and so, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

hamzah felt like he lost balance, his eyes rolled back into his skull and tried to reach for your hand to hold while a gutural moan erupted from the back of his throat, just as he emptied himself in his sweats..

came untouched. just at the sight of you blowing smoke out on his face.

“f-fuck, im so so so sorry, i didn’t… i- i just, i don’t know… you’re so pretty and…” he started rambling yet again and you felt so silly.

your gaze softened on him, and hamzah felt less embarrassed when he realised you weren’t angry or grossed out. your soft eyes felt gentle and he knew you weren’t judging him.

“it’s fine… i guess.” you avoided staring at the wet puddle forming inside his pants, and he giggled nervously too.

time passed by, maybe not really. you felt as time flew by too slowly, and found yourself lost in hamzah’s big eyes again. both of you staring at each other while sitting on the couch, the blunt consuming itself far forgotten but still creating smoke.

hamzah cleared his throat. “i feel sticky.”

“i bet you do.” you replied.

“have you ever…” he started but you quickly interrupted him.

“no head, hamzah!”

>_<

yay first small fanfic here ^_^ unbelievably cringe though, might have to kms.

#hamzah fluff #hamzah x y/n #slushynoobz #slushy noobz #hamzah fic #hamzahsmut #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy virus

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fortheloveoffanfic · 3 days

Text

What if this is the last time I see you?

Hozier x fem!reader

Author's note: I'm sorry that I haven't finished one angsty story before forcing another onto you. But this one is shorter, I promise.

Summary: A chance run-in between exes at the farmers market leaves Andrew wondering if he’ll be okay never seeing Y/n again. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: ANGST

At first, Andrew thinks his eyes must be playing tricks on him. But the longer he stares, the more it makes sense – and the more it makes sense, the more he is convinced. A pop-up farmers market, a fruit vendor selling an assortment of brightly coloured, sure-to-be sweet, freshly picked fruit. Or so he says.

She’s wearing a jacket that he swears he’s seen before, but it could’ve very well been on a mannequin in a store front and not in her closet – or on her body.

But he’s certain that its her. She’s carrying the basket in a way that’s all too familiar. She’s looking at strawberries and those are her favorite in the summer. It must be her.

So it must be divine intervention that he drove past the farmers market and decided to stop, because Andrew usually gets his produce at the grocery store, on the occasion that he’s home for long enough to do his own shopping.

Setting down the bright, glossy apple he’d been holding onto for a criminally long period, he inches towards her little section of the booth, debating what he should say. ‘Hi’ doesn’t feel like enough, but he fears that if he takes a chance with anything more he might stomp all over their impromptu reunion. He doesn’t want to be too much;

What a funny thought, he thinks. Considering the whole reason for their end was because he wasn’t enough.

Well, that might be a bit of an unfair distribution of blame. He’s pretty good at playing the victim where the demise of their relationship is concerned.

By the time he reaches her, Y/n has already placed a few strawberries into a plastic baggie and is looking for a few more to round off her purchase. And he settles on the very measly and shamefully uneventful; “hey.”

Surprised, Y/n jumps slightly and twists to face him, eyes going wide. “Andy, oh my gosh, hey.” She hesitates for a moment before reaching out for a hug that becomes quite a clumsy endeavor. They don’t seem to know each other as well as they used to; he can’t tell if she’s reaching for his neck or midsection, so their limbs get tangled in a strange manner. “Sorry,” she mumbles bashfully when the whole thing goes on for longer than any ‘I haven’t seen you in five years’ hug should take.

Shrugging off the unwarranted apology, Andrew stuffs his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans in an effort to keep himself from touching her again. “How have you been?” He tries to sound nonchalant, but his gaze drips to her left hand, looking for any sign of a ring. And when there isn’t one, he feels a knot in his chest loosen a little.

“I’ve been….” Y/n trails off, as if the question is the hardest one she’s been asked in a while. In some ways, she supposes it is. Is she supposed to lie to Andrew? Tell him she’s fine and happy and her life is going fantastically well when the truth is she hasn’t been able to scrub the memory of him from her mind and she still buys his favorite brand of tea because when it brews, the smell makes her house feel a little more like home. “I’ve been alright,” its something between the truth and any lie she can tell; she is alright. Alive and healthy, if only a little sad sometimes – but who isn’t, right? “You?”

Andrew fumbles with his words, he’s not sure why but the question feels almost taunting. Why would she throw that back to him? Why wouldn’t she just assume that she’s stowed the best of him into a box and taken it along with her? Everyone else sees it, they tell him he hasn’t looked the same since she left, that he talks differently and he’s truly a little depressing to be around sometimes. “I’m…..okay.” Just okay – not good, not bad, but somewhere in limbo, surviving.

At his response, Y/n nods absently. God, he wishes he knew what that meant. He wishes he still knew her well enough to know what anything she does means. There used to be things that only he understood about Y/n. There’s a version of her in his mind that still whispers in the dark, even if they’re the only people in the room, and ensures all the cutlery in the drawer is packed in the same direction. There’s a version of her that might have tilted her head at his response, and told him that she knows that ‘okay’ is never just ‘okay.’

But this is someone else, someone he doesn’t know. But he loves her anyway.

He’ll love every version of her. But at least he’s only lost one.

“You’re probably the last person I’d expect to run into, here especially,” but maybe she doesn’t really know him that well anymore. Maybe he goes to the farmer’s market every Sunday now and they’ve just been missing each other.

Maybe he goes with his girlfriend - a wife even -and right now she's at another vendor. She's going to be back soon. And she'll be beautiful and Y/n will think; no wonder he let me go so easily, because he knew there was better was out there.

Shaking off the unsettling thought, Y/n adds, “you used to get everything at the grocery store.”

“You used to grow everything yourself,” he notes, not maliciously though. It's really just an innocent observation; he wonders why she stopped.

“I guess…..we’ve changed,” Y/n muses, and a little sliver of her wonders if they’ve changed enough to make it work for a second time around.

“Not too much, I hope,” but what he really means to say is; ‘I hope we’re still the kind of people that can love each other.’ “Ehm,” he clears his throat softly, and finally gathers the courage to ask what he’d been thinking about since he discreetly examined her finger, “seeing anyone?”

What a question! Simultaneously, it makes her want to laugh and cry. “Not right now, no.” Of course, she’s seen other people since their break-up, but nothing ever sticks, and that might be because every man is now measured to Andrew; does it taste the same when they kiss her? Hold her hand the way he used to? Do they tell the same sort of jokes or thread their fingers through her hair before falling asleep? “What about you?”

Andrew waves his hand dismissively, “no one serious,” there isn't really anyone at all, but he doesn’t want to seem like he’s a complete wreck and one more white lie can’t hurt.

“Good,” the word slips out almost without thought, and Y/n quickly shakes her head when Andrew arches a brow. He isn't supposed to know that she's relieved; that he just quashed one of her biggest fears - that there's another woman that knows him as well as she does, but couldn't love him half as much, “well....not good. Just you know….you’re good at being on your own,” he was pretty damn good on his own even when they lived in the same house, “so I’m sure you’re doing good,” god, she wishes she had stopped talking three minutes ago.

Hesitating, he bites his tongue as the urge to tell her that he's not okay and it's all her fault wells up. Didn’t she see the lie in his eyes when he said he was okay? Is he that much of a stranger to her now?

Again, Andrew shrugs halfheartedly, “I’ve been okay,” he repeats before pressing his lips into a thin line. He doesn’t trust himself to add anything more, because then he’ll say he still misses her and its been far too long for him to still be mourning an empty side of the bed and the sound of her laughter in the drawing room.

He shouldn’t still go into his home studio and still expect her to come trailing after him, armed with a book with the intention of curling up on the sofa that gets just the right amount of noon sun. He shouldn't miss the way she looks while humming along softly to what he's working on, blanket draped on her folded legs, hazy light washing her face - he shouldn’t have left her blanket there after all this time.

He shouldn’t even be thinking about it, because the more he does, the more he wants to tell her. Beg Y/n to come back – to take him back because he’s really only half himself without her.

“I should let you –”

“You probably have –”

“Sorry.” Another clumsy, awkward apology, this one in aching unison. There’s silence for a while, and Y/n tugs her lower lip between her teeth. In a way, it feels like they’ve been standing there for too long, at least, like this. Not knowing what to say to each other, with the nails of her free hand digging into her palm so she doesn’t reach out to touch his arm. It shouldn’t be like this, she never wanted them to come to this; reduced to two awfully familiar strangers. “I should um….I have to….go…” She goes to say home, but the word doesn’t come, “I gotta go, Andrew.”

Swallowing the lump that’s been caught in his throat since he first saw fifteen minutes earlier, Andrew nods stiffly. “Of course,” he breathes. The last thing he wants is for her to leave, but he doesn’t really have any right to keep her. “I’ll leave you to it.” They both nod that time, shy and unsure but no one leaves. Not immediately. His eyes stay matching hers, and there’s a hundred things weighing down the tip of his tongue, but clinging to it like molten sugar.

I'm sorry I let you walk out, I'm sorry about everything. I still keep your ring in my nightstand, just in case. My mom still asks about you. I should've been better, let you in and I know that now. I'd do it now. I'm actually horrible on my own now, because you've ruined me in the best way - and the worst. But he doesn't say any of it; the moment is long gone and his pride does a pretty good job at keeping him quiet.

A shuddered breath escapes her lips upon realizing that she actually hasn’t moved an inch; Y/n doesn’t think she can be the one to bring herself to leave this time. She doesn't want to turn her back to him again. So she lingers, and she swears roots are sprouting from the soles of her feet, keeping her in place, staring into his eyes because lost in them is suddenly the only place she wants to be.

“I should go,” he eventually determines, glancing away. Though, the minute he says it, Andrew is lashed with immediate regret; he does not want to go. He doesn’t want to leave, but he suspects that this time its entirely on him to turn around and walk away.

“Right, right,” Y/n blinks quickly, then, just as he’s about to turn, she interjects, if only for the purpose of holding him there a little longer, “it was really nice seeing you.”

He nods, but doesn’t say anything, not right then. Though, when he turns away and starts retreating to the other end of the small tent, squinting his eyes at the midday sun, catching him square in the face, he pauses. Throwing a cautious backwards glance her way, he finds that Y/n has returned to picking out strawberries and on a whim, Andrew finally allows himself a singular moment of weakness – perhaps in a way of giving her what she’s wanted since their very last fight. “I’ve missed you,” he utters.

Y/n’s head snaps up just as she hands the bag over to the vendor for weighting, “what?” Her brows are furrowed and her lips are slightly agape.

Hating the sudden vulnerability that comes with those three little words, he shakes his head, “nothing. I’ll see you around,” he spares her a short wave, and she does the same.

After that, not a single word is traded between them again; Y/n pays, plops the bag into her basket, and walks off, and he watches her go. There’s a sinking feeling in his chest as she weaves her way through the busy market, and there’s a strange sort of finality in the moment where the last inkling of her green jacket disappears.

What if he never sees her again? What if that moment, in that tent, surrounded by fruits honeyed by summer’s warmth and the bitter heartache of something unfinished, constitutes the last fifteen minutes they will ever share?

What if she’s gone from his life forever and he’s damned to an eternity spent looking at her pictures and never hearing her voice again? Wondering what she’s doing and if she’s finally moved on from him?

Can he survive it? Truly? Without feeling like a shell just being shuffled around by the wind?

Returning to the assortment of ruby-toned apples, he struggles to escape the onslaught in his mind and Andrew finds himself unable to choose any, not even one, so he goes with strawberries instead.

To be continued.....

#hozier #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #andrew hozier byrne #hozier fanfiction #the hoziest #what if this is the last time I see you?

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stellocchia · 2 days

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I've already seen the take that Killer and Nightmare both contribute equally to making their relationship toxic and I'm begging people to understand that that's not a great take to have in an abuser/victim scenario. Doubly so when said victim is kept in the relationship by force and most likely didn't even wanna be there in the first place.

I also see these kinds of takes rather often when toxic relationships are involved. Usually, it's because no victim is the perfect victim so people tend to push a lot of the blame on them.

And Killer definitely is very very far from the perfect victim. He's violent, he's mentally ill (which increases the likelihood of the person falling victim to domestic violence, but people tend to see it as a scary thing. Especially for stuff that's more stigmatized like, in his case, the kinda implied DID that comes with the multiple Stages), and he can be quite the bastard when he wants to. It also doesn't help that people look at especially Stage 2 and think "Oh, he's entirely emotionless" and they don't go any further than that with that train of thought.

Anyway, my point here is that just because Killer's coping mechanisms aren't healthy or palatable for some people, that doesn't mean that he's not Nightmare's victim. Just like it doesn't mean that he wasn't Chara's or the Player's. And he's not "contributing equally to the toxicity" he's surviving. And he's taking what few Ws he can while he's at it. Creeping out Nightmare here and there doesn't put him on the same level as the guy who either straight-up kidnapped him or at the very least preyed on him when he was at his most vulnerable (literally planning on killing himself) and then continuously abused him

#utmv #sans aus #undertale aus #cw abuse #cw victim blaming #killer sans #nightmare sans #corrupted nightmare sans #something new #something new chara #something new player #something new killer #something new sans #cw toxic relationship #toxic killermare

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letters-from-ikemen · 2 days

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Water-Stained Letter, Dated For Your Anniversary

Cara Mia,

It’s been a long time since I’ve written you a letter, huh?

I guess I’ve gotten sentimental in my old age. But I always was when it came to you.

Comte said it might be helpful to write my feelings down. Like I’m talking to you. I can pretend you’re still with me.

Might as well give it a try.

Been over a hundred years since I saw you last. You know, we’re in your modern time now. With your skyscrapers and electronic devices. Business as usual with us. Everyone’s adjusted to the times. Even Jean. You’d have loved to see it.

Comte’s still got everyone living in that mansion in the woods outside of Paris. Still the same as it was when you left. There’s a few more of us now. I just know you’d win them over like you did everyone else.

They still talk about you, you know. Everyone does. They miss you, even if they don’t say it out loud.

The halls are quieter and the days are darker without your smile. Sleep is harder to find without your happy laughter. Sometimes I still wake up expecting to see you in my arms.

Eternity is a long time to go without your optimism, cara mia.

Today would have been our one-hundred-fiftieth anniversary.

A hundred and fifty years since we met. It feels like only yesterday you stumbled through that door and into our lives.

Heh. To an immortal vampire, I guess it was. To you, it was your whole life.

I’d say it’s gotten easier over the years, but I’d be lying. I promised you in the beginning I’d never lie to you.

If you were here you’d be reminding me that I promised to talk about more stuff with you. Together. You’d be pushing me to at least talk to le Comte. Telling me I shouldn’t close myself off from everyone now that you’re gone. Saying that I’d gotten used to sharing more of myself and my thoughts with you over the years and that I didn’t have an excuse not to anymore.

But le Comte isn’t you.

And I don’t talk to them because talking about you won’t bring you back.

The day you passed was the day I died, too.

I miss you.

I love you.

Non vedo l'ora di rivederti.

(the rest of the letter is illegibly smudged with water)

a letter for anon, thank you for the request!

About this blog || Request Rules

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen leonardo

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awrkive · 12 hours

Note

tlp extra where one of the surgeons gang catches him admiring tlp OC please 🙏🏽

summary: tlp drabble #2 where taehyung figures jungkook out

w/c: 1.5k

note: instead of an extra heres a Drabble 🤓 the official introduction of taehyung into the surgeons gang study group. timeline is first semester of second year. this got a little angsty in the end but nothing major u'll see angst if u squint. also pls dont judge me if i got some of the technical medical stuff wrong 💔 i was armed with google searches n tiktok 💔

Taehyung can already hear the sound of laughter and your voices slipping through the hallways as he makes his way to Moon’s Print Shop.

When he enters, he immediately sees the three of you – Doyeon, Jungkook, and you, huddled in the long table, with Doyeon seated across from you and Jungkook who are sitting close together on one side like usual. From where he is at the door, he gets the view of Jungkook circling his arm around the back of your chair, his head leaning down to the side of your direction, listening to you and Doyeon talk.

“Oh, hey, Taehyung!” You snap your head to the direction of the door when Taehyung enters. The other two follow, greeting him simultaneously while he gives the same back, going straight to the chair available next to Doyeon.

“We’re doing clinical reasoning. __ here is trying to do it in under three minutes.” Doyeon says, chuckling a little at the end of her sentence.

“Yeah, she’s trying to beat my record.” Jungkook muses beside you, and Taehyung watches as you turn to Jungkook with your bottom lip jutted out, frowning.

“I don’t know how you can do it in a minute. Teach me.”

Jungkook chuckles, forming crinkles at both sides of his eyes. He lifts his hand – the one that’s not around your chair – to pinch your cheek a little.

“You gotta study a lot, buddy.”

“Don’t be cocky,” You say, swatting his arm and turning to Doyeon. “Okay, give me a new case. Jungkook, press record.”

Doyeon and Taehyung laugh at both your antics. While Taehyung prepares his iPad and books, Doyeon begins to tell you about the patient, reading through a reviewer.

“Okay, so the patient, a 42-year-old male, presents to the ER with increasing shortness of breath. He’s wheezing and coughing.” Doyeon starts.

Cocking your head to the side, you ask, “Does he have a history of asthma or any allergies?” When Doyeon says "no", you try again. “Smoking?” She shakes her head. “Okay, well uhm… is his cough dry… or?”

“Yep. It is dry.” Doyeon nods while looking at the paper.

“What about the chest X-ray?”

“Marked hyperinflation.”

“Is the AP diameter also increased?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Taehyung watches as some sort of enlightenment crosses over your face. With curiosity, he tries to peek at Doyeon’s paper but she immediately puts it down so he can’t see it. She arches her brow at him and he rolls his eyes, sitting upright back on his chair again. He watches you instead, getting invested. “Can you tell me about the ABG report, then?”

“It’s PaO2 of 63 and PaCO2 of 54.”

“Oh, oh!” You lean towards Doyeon enthusiastically. “So the patient is hypoxic and hypercapniac… what about the spirometry, the FEV1?”

“Zero point sixty.”

Taehyung watches as a confused expression paints your face again. “So obstructive in nature…” It takes you awhile to ask another question, and even though Taehyung has only known you for only around a term, he knows that look on your face. You’re beginning to feel anxious now. With a hesitant tone, you cock your head to the side as you ask, “What about the bronchodilator response— is it significant?”

“No, no.” Doyeon responds immediately.

You pout.

That’s when Taehyung sees Jungkook’s face beginning to contort into an expression of concern.

It makes him arch a brow, but Jungkook’s too busy staring at the side of your face to even notice and question Taehyung about it.

“Okay… let’s go for the CT scan. Was there primarily an upper or lower lobe involved?”

“Lower lobe, yes.” Doyeon nods.

You subtly look at Jungkook’s phone laying on the table with the timer up, grimacing at whatever you saw.

Taehyung tears a piece of paper from his notebook and writes, [What is it?], and when he’s done, he slides it to Jungkook’s direction. It does a good job of straying his friend's eyes from you, his attention now to the scratch that Taehyung gave him.

Jungkook quickly scribbles down something and returns the paper back to Taehyung.

[Not sure. First impression is COPD. Waiting for blood work up.]

Taehyung’s mouth forms an O-shape upon reading the note, everything suddenly also making sense to him. He’s about to give Jungkook an impressed look but he’s already back to staring at you again, but this time you meet his gaze, and for awhile it’s like you two are communicating in a language he, neither Doyeon, know anything about – and Taehyung suddenly feels as if he’s… third-wheeling.

The moment is cut short when you suddenly look at Doyeon, voice sounding full again. Confident this time. “Does the blood work up show that there’s deficiency in alpha-1 antitrypsin?”

“Yes.”

Now there’s a grin on your face, and when Taehyung’s gaze falls back to Jungkook again, he smiles the same time you do. His arm around your chair comes up to pinch your arm, rubbing there softly – subtly – and your grin grows even wider – like his – when you finally tell your final diagnosis.

“If he's AAT deficient then that's COPD. In his case, specifically, emphysema.”

"And referral?"

Your excitement feels palpable as you say, "AAT replacement therapy and pulmonary rehab."

“You got it.” Doyeon says, smiling at you.

“Oh my god,” You look at Jungkook’s phone and your eyes widen. “I did it in two minutes and thirty one seconds.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks down at his phone as well and then gazes back at you. “That was hella good.”

“Right?” You grin, taking in the praise from Doyeon as well.

“That was really impressive, __.”

Taehyung throws a compliment, as well. He’s admittedly a bit slow at clinical reasoning – slower than Jungkook and you, at least.

“That was, wow—” he shakes his head to the side and claps slowly for the theatrics.

The others follow through the silliness and applauds you. Meanwhile, you stand up from the chair and begin to curtsy jokingly, relishing in the exaggerated celebration.

When you come back to your seat, Jungkook makes sure to scoot your chair closer so you land on it well, and you chuckle as he does so.

Doyeon probably didn’t catch it as she’s back to reading her notes again, but Taehyung catches Jungkook mouthing, “I’m proud of you” to you in which you give him a sweet smile for.

“What was that yesterday?” Taehyung asks Jungkook as both guys wait for you and Doyeon at the cafeteria for lunch.

Jungkook looks at him wide-eyed as he stops sipping on his shake. “Huh?”

“The whole thing with __.”

With a deepening frown, Jungkook continues to look confused.

“I don’t understand.”

Taehyung deadpans. “Oh, so, like, rubbing your friend’s shoulder to calm them down during a clinical reasoning test and staring at them intently while doing it, being all proud and supportive and shot, is normal to you?” He adds, “I caught that “I’m proud of you” line, by the way. I was watching you closely.” Taehyung makes a show of pointing two of his fingers to his eyes and then to Jungkook to emphasize his point.

Jungkook scoffs. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You like her.”

“Who?”

“__.”

Jungkook chokes on his drink. Taehyung doesn’t bother to give him his glass of water, squinting his eyes at his friend instead.

When Jungkook recovers, he jabs at his chest as he glares at Taehyung. “What are you talking about? No, I don’t like __. Not like that.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for awhile, just stares at Jungkook to see the reaction of his face. He keeps on tightening his brows so Taehyung can’t decipher anything – a defense mechanism, really, but he knows he’s blown his friend’s cover when Jungkook scoffs again and rolls his eyes.

“Alright, fine. You win. I like her.”

Taehyung snorts. “I knew it.”

“You didn’t.” Jungkook rolls his eyes again.

“I thought about it a few times. Dude, you’re like a golden retriever around her. Jackson totally digs __ but he thinks you’re both together the way you act around her.”

“W-what?” Jungkook stammers. “Jackson? Senior?”

Taehyung nods. “Yep.”

Looking away, Jungkook stares at the glass wall. “Well. That’s not possible. She has a boyfriend.”

That makes Taehyung's grin fade.

Clearing his throat, he sips from his water on the table. “Well. Yeah. She has a boyfriend. The Eunwoo guy, right? The architect, or something.”

Taehyung sees something that flashes across his friend’s face – hurt? jealousy? – he’s not sure. But the air begins to feel thick at the sudden drop of mood.

“Yeah.”

Both of them are quiet for awhile until Taehyung speaks.

“That’s tough, Jungkook.”

“I know.” But there’s a bitter smile on his face. “Just… don’t tell her about it, okay?”

The sincerity and vulnerability in his voice were something Taehyung doesn’t expect at all. It makes his tongue fumble for the right words, but he settles with, “Okay. She won’t hear anything from me.”

Jungkook gives him a tight-lipped smile. “Thanks, Taehyung.”

#everybody knows he likes her except miss oc herself 😭#jesus #also #sometimes #i tell myself its not that serious but i actually looked this shit up #i cant believe im learning med for a fanfic 😭😭#interesting stuff tho #fic: tlp #tlp drabbles #jungkook scenarios

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leahrintarou · 11 hours

Note

HELLO GIRL HOPE YOU'RE DOING GOOD 😊

i wanted to request for dabi x fem!villain!reader. she loves dabi but he's a brat to her just like himself, like with everyone. and after one mission reader goes somewhere and drinks fuckload of alcohol and she's super lightweight so she's out after one/two shots. and that night she gets like tons of alcohol. so she's obviously drunk and she has no idea what she's doing and she calls dabi. and he cares for her he's just acting this way (i severely believe that he's the guy who falls for someone and IMMEDIATELY had a pushing away mechanism going on because of his past and stuff). and he comes to pick reader up and she's not even able to stand straight. like she's pretty fucked AMD SHE'S A BABY WHEN DRUNK, LIKE LITERALLY WHINING CRYING AND BEING A CUTIE. and he takes her with him and she has few more bottle hidden somewhere with her, and she keeps drinking and he's concerned because she's extra lightweight. but she keeps getting those bottles so he throws one of them out of the moving car window😆 and she's like why would you do that it was a great whiskey (or whatever she can drink). but she's not sad for long because she takes out another bottle, and he does the same thing. and after that she starts crying because it was her last bottle and he's so mean. AND then at night she gets sick because of all that alcohol she has earlier so she's having a huge fever, she feels like dying, so she whines a d cries about her feelings and him rejecting her and she confesses to him and says a lot of stupid things how pretty he it and how good he looks shirtless and stuff like that. AND then next day when she wakes up he teases her about it and she's embarrassed af, but it ends up fluff with him confessing back😊😊❤️❤️❤️

I'M SORRY IT'S SO LONG BUT I HAVE A LOT OF THINGS GOING ON IN MY HEAD AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SHORTEN MY THOUGHTS🤣🤣 I'M SORRY 😞 but i still hope you'll write it🥺

✩₊˚.⋆ RELUCTANT HEARTS - dabi/touya todoroki

CW: y/n is drunk, alcohol intoxication, communication issues, y/n's in love but dabi is being dabi, he doesn't know how to talk about his feelings, swearing, reader with she/her pronouns, non-detailed mentions of throwing up, fluff, some angst if u squint tbh.

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: (i'm doing well, anon! :p) i hope you guys enjoy reading! it came out a bit longer than i was planning but oh well lol. leave a like or reblog to support!

the bitter warmth of alcohol lingered on y/n's tongue as she downed yet another shot. she'd long lost count after the eighth, the need for a chaser fading as the taste softened, dulled by her numbing senses. "ma'am, we'll be closing soon," one of the bartenders murmured, the same one who had filled her glass every few minutes without fail.

she nodded, her vision doubling with the motion. nausea crept up on her, and she sighed at the inevitable. a lightweight by nature, she usually capped her nights at fewer than ten shots when drinking alone, but tonight was a different story.

her solo mission had been successful, but not without needless resistance from heroes who showed no mercy. shigaraki had barely scolded her, while dabi took the opportunity to belittle her inefficiency. it wasn’t like her to slip up so badly, but dabi never missed a chance to hold her mistakes over her—so long as they bothered her, he’d never let her forget.

despite her hating the fact that she had to, y/n fumbled with her phone, squinting at the blurry screen before finally locating dabi’s number. her thumb slipped as she pressed call, the dial tone ringing painfully loud in her ear.

“what?” dabi’s voice was sharp, instantly irritated.

“touya…” she slurred, her words tumbling lazily. “i need… i need you to come get me,” she mumbled. there was a pause, then a scoff. “what the hell? you sound trashed. where are you?”

“uh… somewhere,” y/n mumbled, blinking as she tried to get her thoughts straight. “i’m just… out.”

“out? where’s ‘out,’ y/n?” his voice was flat, but she could hear the growing annoyance. “you’re not making any sense.”

“just… come get me,” she groaned, frustration bleeding into her slurred words. “i can’t… i can’t even walk straight.” she glanced down at her lap, where her free hand rested as she twisted the singular ring at the base of her index finger.

dabi snorted. “no shit, you’re drunk off your ass. what are you doing, wandering around aimlessly?”

“not wandering,” she mumbled. “i’m sitting.” a bit of annoyance crept into her voice. apparently, liquor couldn't stop dabi from pissing her off so quickly. “okay, sitting where?” he asked, now sounding both amused and irritated. “what? did you pass out in an alley or something?”

y/n rolled her eyes, which only made her dizziness worse. “ugh, no. i’m in a… bar.”

dabi paused, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “of course. a bar. you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“just come get me, touya,” she grumbled, her voice slurred but laced with irritation. “unless you want me to blow chunks on someone's shoes. your call.”

he clicked his tongue, clearly frustrated but now understanding the situation. “you’re such a mess, y/n. fine. send me the address.”

“yeah, yeah,” she muttered, fumbling to type it out. “thanks, touya.” she smiled to herself. "knew you'd come through even if you're a dick about it."

"don't push it," he snapped before hanging up. even though he'd put on an act like he didn't care, she knew he'd show up. and, despite himself, so did he.

---

it wasn’t long before the rumble of a car engine cut through the night air outside the bar. y/n groggily looked up as dabi stepped inside, his usual scowl firmly in place as his eyes swept the room. the second he spotted her slumped over in the booth, he shook his head and made his way over.

“seriously?” he grumbled as he stood in front of her, arms crossed. “this is the state you’ve gotten yourself into?”

y/n glanced up at him, her head spinning as she tried to focus. “don’t… don’t start,” she mumbled, her words slurring together. “i’m not in the mood for your shit.”

“too bad. you’re in no position to make demands,” he shot back, leaning down to help her up. he wrapped an arm around her waist, feeling her lean heavily against him. “let’s get you out of here before you make a scene.”

“hey, i can walk,” y/n protested half-heartedly, but the moment she tried to stand, her legs buckled beneath her. dabi’s grip tightened, and he half-dragged her toward the exit.

“yeah, sure you can,” he said dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “you’re a real lightweight, you know that?”

“shut up, touya,” she grumbled, though the annoyance in her voice was overshadowed by a hint of affection. “you’re not my dad.”

“wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, pushing open the passenger door of his car and easing her inside. “but someone has to make sure you don’t drown in your own stupidity.”

“whatever,” y/n muttered as she settled into the seat, her head resting against the window. “i could handle myself fine… if you weren’t so annoying.”

“annoying, huh?” he shot back, sliding into the driver’s seat and giving her a sideways glance. “you know, you called me. but hey, if you wanted my attention, this wasn’t the way to go about it.”

“because you’re the best at picking people up from bars,” she replied, a slight smirk on her lips. but then her expression faltered, and she turned serious. “i… i really appreciate it, you know?”

“don’t get all mushy on me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “it’s not like i’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart. i’ve got a reputation to uphold, and rescuing your drunk ass is just good PR.”

“you’re such a brat,” y/n shot back, though her heart fluttered at his teasing. “i’d like to see you handle it better.”

“please, i wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this,” he replied, his tone dripping with disdain as he pulled away from the curb. “besides, if i didn’t show up, who else would have to deal with your mess? i’ve got a reputation to uphold, remember?”

“right, because you care so much about your reputation,” she said sarcastically, turning her gaze to the window, watching the city lights blur past. “you’re just here for the free entertainment.”

“entertainment? you think this is funny?” he replied, glancing at her with an eyebrow raised. “watching you stumble around like a newborn deer isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

“well, at least i’m amusing,” y/n shot back, trying to hide the smile tugging at her lips. “you should thank me for keeping your life exciting.”

“exciting, huh?” he scoffed. “more like a headache. i’d rather face a horde of heroes than babysit you in a bar.”

“oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “you secretly love it.” y/n reached into the pocket of her hoodie, pulling out the smaller bottle of alcohol she bought earlier.

“love it? not even close,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “you’re lucky i have a soft spot for lost causes.”

“lost cause, huh?” she challenged, feeling a rush of emotion she couldn’t quite suppress. she lifted it to her lips, taking a singular swig before it was snatched from her hands. a bit of it dripped down her chin, and dabi rolled his window down before throwing it out. the sound of the glass shattering against the pavement echoed a second later.

"what the hell, touya!" she yelled, using her sleeve to wipe the liquor from her face. "that was mine!" she fussed.

"not anymore," he said flatly, glancing at her before his eyes returned to the road. "you're not drinking any more tonight. it's a miracle you were even able to walk back there."

"you don't get to decide that," she snapped, a flash of anger igniting in her chest as tears pricked her eyes. but deep down, a familiar wave of emotions washed over her, stirring something fragile. "you're such a-"

"a what? a what?" he challenged, cutting her off. "a responsible person? you think i want to see you hurt yourself more than you already have?"

"you don't get it," she said, her voice trembling as her frustration morphed into something more vulnerable. "i don’t want to get it, y/n. stop doing this to yourself if you don't want to paint that image for your name."

“i��m not that bad.”

“keep telling yourself that,” he said, glancing at her as they hit a red light. “but here you are, drunk and needing a ride home.”

“yeah, well…” y/n started, but the warmth of the alcohol mixed with her frustration made her voice waver. “at least you came.”

“you really think that highly of yourself, huh?” he shot back, though there was a hint of something softer in his eyes. “just be grateful i did.” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “i am grateful, you jerk,” she said, her voice suddenly small as she looked down at her lap, fiddling with the ring on her finger. “you’re the only one who shows up when i need help.”

“yeah, well, don’t go getting all sappy on me,” he warned, trying to maintain his usual bravado, but the way his eyes softened gave him away. “it’s not like i’m doing this for the accolades.”

“sure, keep pretending you don’t care,” she replied, feeling the warmth of vulnerability creeping in. “but i see through your tough-guy act.” she shrugged.

“whatever,” he said, pulling into her driveway and turning off the engine. “let’s get you inside before you throw up in my car.”

“you just want to get rid of me,” she teased, but there was an undercurrent of something more serious beneath her words.

“you’re not wrong,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for her. “but it’s not because i don’t want you around. it’s just that your idea of a good time and mine are clearly on different planets.”

“how sweet of you, really,” she said dryly, though with a tone of sarcasm. “you’re lucky i’m feeling generous tonight.”

“generous? is that what you’re calling this?” he laughed, helping her out of the car and steadying her as she swayed slightly. “more like a recipe for disaster,” he retorted with a snarky tone. “shut up, touya,” she said, her voice softer now as they walked toward the door. “just… thanks for being here.”

“don’t mention it,” he replied, his tone lightening a bit. “but if you ever do this again, i’m leaving you to fend for yourself.”

“noted,” she said, a little too aware of how much she wished she could reach out and grab his hand, the feelings simmering beneath the surface threatening to spill over. “but you’re going to be there. i know it.”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head as he watched her fumble with her keys. “just don’t go falling for me or something.”

her heart raced and she stayed silent, making dabi give her a glance that showed him trying to read her expression. she made sure to turn away from him, especially when he called her name. “gonna try to get some sleep,” she quickly said, using the guardrail to get upstairs and to her room.

y/n felt the wave of nausea wash over her as she laid on her bed, the world spinning around her. the bitter warmth of the alcohol still lingered on her tongue, a reminder of the night’s escapades. she groaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to block out the throbbing in her head. as the room tilted and swayed, she pushed herself up just enough to pull the blankets over her body, seeking comfort in their warmth.

it wasn't long before she heard the familiar sound of the door creaking open. dabi stepped inside, his usual scowl firmly in place as he leaned against the doorframe. “what a sight,” he muttered, glancing around her room. “you look like you’ve been through a blender.”

“thanks for the compliment,” y/n mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. she felt a bit of embarrassment wash over her as dabi sauntered over and sat on the edge of her bed, pulling out his phone to scroll through it. a part of her wanted to feel grateful, but the way he acted—like he was doing her a favor—was hard to ignore.

---

half an hour ticked by, the silence punctuated only by the sound of his scrolling. but y/n's nausea began to build again, the urge to throw up clawing at her insides like a feral animal. she bit her lip, feeling the heat rise in her throat as she fought against it, but it was no use.

"touya," she whispered, her voice hoarse and shaky. he glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "hey, you alright?" he asked, but his tone was more sarcastic than concerned.

"not really," she muttered, clutching her stomach. before he could retort, she stumbled toward the bathroom, barely managing to reach the toilet before the contents of her stomach surged forth.

"nice going, genius," dabi called after her, his voice dripping with mockery. "you're really winning at this whole 'not throwing up' thing."

y/n heaved, feeling the world tilt precariously beneath her. the bitter taste of the alcohol mixed with the remnants of her dinner assaulted her senses, and she groaned, tears brimming in her eyes.

dabi was right behind her, his cool presence both annoying and comforting as he knelt beside her. "just breathe, y/n," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "try not to make this a regular thing, okay? i’ve got better things to do than babysit you."

as she gasped for air, she could feel his hand resting gently on her back, and despite his snark, there was a genuine concern in his touch. leaning into his hand, she felt a flicker of gratitude amid the chaos.

finally, the wave of nausea receded, leaving her breathless and trembling. dabi stayed close, waiting until she could lift her head and look at him. "feeling better?" he asked, his tone still laced with sarcasm.

"yeah," she whispered, her voice thick with sleepiness.

y/n felt like a train wreck as she sat hunched over the toilet, the remnants of her night swirling in her stomach like a storm. the bitter warmth of the alcohol lingered, and each heave felt like a betrayal to her body. just when she thought she was done, another wave hit her, and she groaned in frustration.

"seriously?" dabi’s voice cut through the haze, low and unimpressed. he leaned against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed, his expression somewhere between annoyance and concern. "you’ve got to be the worst drunk i’ve ever seen."

"thanks for the encouragement," she managed, glaring at him with half fury, half exhaustion. "what are you doing here, anyway? i thought you didn’t want to babysit me."

"don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, but there was an undercurrent of something softer in his eyes. "i just didn’t want to deal with you throwing up in my car. that’s a real hassle."

"nice to know my well-being is your top priority," she replied sarcastically, but the dizziness made it hard to keep up her bravado. she stumbled back into her room, leaning against the wall as she caught her breath.

dabi followed, eyeing her critically. "you didn’t answer my question earlier, you know. when i said, 'don’t go falling for me,' you totally dodged that." his tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his gaze.

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to brush it off. "what do you care, anyway? you’re always so mean to me!"

crossing his arms again as he leaned against the wall "you don’t get to deflect now. just tell me, why didn’t you respond?"

"maybe i didn’t think it was worth addressing," she replied, her voice shaky, but his intensity made it hard to dismiss him. "really? because it sounded like you were trying to avoid something," he said, narrowing his gaze.

she let out a frustrated huff, flopping onto her bed. "i don’t know, touya. you make it hard to breathe sometimes. i get that you think you’re being helpful, but your sarcasm feels like a shield. and it hurts because i—"

"what is it, y/n?"

"i can’t help but feel something for you," she blurted out, exasperated. "even though you’re mean and a total brat, i… i like having you around, even when you act like you don’t care. and that just makes me feel more frustrated, like i’m some lost cause."

"y/n," he began, but she wasn’t done.

"you push me away, and i don’t understand why. you’re so pretty and infuriatingly attractive, and i hate that i’m drawn to you, but here we are." she sighed, the weight of her confession pressing heavily on her. "and i’m sorry for being a mess. i really am, but sometimes it feels like you’re the only one who sees me. even if it’s from a distance."

dabi watched her in silence, his expression shifting from annoyance to something deeper. "you think that’s what i’m doing?" he asked finally, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "pushing you away?"

"maybe," she admitted, feeling the heaviness of the alcohol wrapping around her thoughts. "i don’t know. i just… i feel like every time i try to get closer, you shut me out. it’s like you want to keep me at arm’s length."

he was quiet for a moment, and she could see the gears turning in his head. "and you think i want you to feel like shit?" he asked finally, his tone softer now. "you’re not some joke to me, y/n. you’re just… complicated."

"complicated, huh?" she snorted, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. "that’s one way to put it. you’re so busy being an asshole that you don’t see how much i wish things were different."

"different how?" dabi asked, genuinely intrigued, and for a moment, it felt like she had his full attention.

y/n fidgeted on the bed, her heart racing as she tried to gather her thoughts. "different as in… sometimes i wish you could see me for more than just a nuisance," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "i get that i can be a mess, but it feels like i’m always just… your project to fix."

dabi shifted his weight, an unreadable expression on his face. "you really think i see you that way?" he asked, his tone surprisingly soft.

"i don’t know," she replied, frustration creeping back in. "you’re always so wrapped up in your own world, and it makes me feel like i’m chasing after you for attention. i guess… i just wish you could let me in. i want to be someone you want around, not just someone you tolerate."

he remained silent, watching her with an intensity that made her heart flutter and ache all at once. "you’re not just a project, y/n." he finally said, his voice low. "but you’ve got to understand that i’m not great at this stuff. i’m not the guy who knows how to make things easy."

"yeah, i get that. but…" she sighed, struggling to find the right words. "it’s hard not to feel something more when you’re the one who shows up for me, even when i’m at my lowest. it’s like i can’t help but want you to be part of my life, in every way. and that scares me."

dabi opened his mouth as if to respond, but then fell silent again, letting the weight of her words hang between them. y/n could feel the tears pricking at her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to show that kind of vulnerability. "i’m such a dumbass," she mumbled, forcing a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. "i shouldn’t be pouring my heart out to you when i’m like this."

"y/n—"

"no, really, forget it," she interrupted, her voice cracking. "i just… i don’t want you to think i’m some lovesick idiot or anything. it’s just hard to ignore what i feel when you’re right here, acting like you don’t care. i’m sorry for being such a mess."

dabi let out a sigh, unable to speak, and only shook his head in frustration. y/n wasn’t the only one at a crossroads. he too knew that there was something up with the way he felt. he always felt it, but the feeling only got stronger when he was around y/n. the feelings brought him confusion, and dabi hated that feeling, hence the reason why he took it out on y/n anytime they were in the same vicinity of one another.

right now, he was failing to realize his true feelings. he failed to point out what it was exactly. he hated the feeling, and as he stared down at y/n, whose eyes were gradually heavying with sleep as stray tears dried, it only worsened.

he knew something was there, and it killed him since he didn’t know what.

---

as the morning light streamed through the curtains, y/n slowly stirred awake on her bed, the remnants of last night flooding her mind like a relentless tide. the dull ache in her head reminded her of the shots she'd had-and the impulsive confession she'd made to dabi. she sat up, rubbing her temples, and glanced around her room, half-expecting to find him sprawled beside her. but the bed was empty, and a wave of relief washed over her.

after a moment, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor cool against her bare feet. y/n took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts. she stood up, feeling slightly unsteady, and made her way to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and brush the taste of last night's mistakes from her mouth. the cool water helped, but did little to erase the embarrassment now gnawing at her chest.

once she felt somewhat human again, she headed downstairs, the house settling into its usual stillness. glancing into the living room, y/n was surprised to see dabi lying on the couch, still fast asleep. the sight of him made her cringe, her mind replaying fragments of last night's disaster. she sighed, scolding herself as she stepped into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove.

the kettle's whistle was loud, painfully so, and she cringed, knowing it might wake him. grabbing two mugs from the cabinet, she placed them on the counter, her mind swirling with thoughts of how to navigate the morning ahead. she wanted to avoid him, but the temptation to face him and clear the air was stronger.

while the memories of the night were hazy, she recalled enough to feel mortified-her indirect confession, the sting of tears, and the bitter taste of regret. she felt like a mess, and her pounding headache only confirmed it.

y/n rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the weight of last night's events, but dabi's voice cut through her thoughts.

"morning."

she poured hot water over the tea bags she'd placed in the mugs, nodding in response as she turned to hand him one. his hair was disheveled, his clothes wrinkled, and the remnants of sleep lingered in his eyes. "morning," she muttered quietly.

just as she was about to leave the kitchen, his hand caught her wrist. "what are you doing?"

her gaze avoided his, her usual confidence nowhere to be found until he spoke up again. "about last night-"

"forget about last night," she interrupted, her voice wavering. "i was drunk. didn't mean to say all that bullshit. i'm sorry."

"why are you apologizing?"

"because last night was a complete shit-show. i can't handle my liquor, and i don't even know why i drank so much, but i regret it. i put us in an awkward situation, and i'm sorry for that." she spoke in one hurried breath, not giving him a chance to respond before continuing. "i'm not expecting anything from you out of pity for feelings i know can't be returned. i just... i'm sorry."

she tried to pull away from his grip, but he held her in place. "touya, it's fine. let go. keeping me here, forcing me to face you, is torture."

"you done whining?"

"i'm not whining." her brow furrowed as she finally met his gaze with a glare. he set his tea down on the counter, and before she could react, his hands were on her cheeks, pulling her in close.

"touya..." she whispered cautiously.

"don't freak out."

and with that, his lips were on hers, warm and firm, leaving no room for doubt. it was a rash decision on dabi's part, driven by a feeling he didn't fully understand. but it was real, and for once, he wasn't running from it.

there was no hesitation, no second thoughts, just the warmth of the moment. y/n's hands instinctively gripped his shirt, pulling him closer as their lips moved in sync. dabi's hand slipped to her waist, tugging her toward him until their bodies were pressed together, a sigh escaping his lips.

the kiss broke suddenly, leaving y/n breathless and dabi smirking slightly. "i think that went better than your confession. i win."

"shut up, touya. it's not a competition."

"oh yeah?" he teased, but his voice softened as he let out a deep sigh. for dabi, apologies didn't come naturally. he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze as he leaned against the counter. "look," he began gruffly, "i'm not good at this. feelings, whatever. you already know that, so don't act surprised."

y/n remained silent, her eyes focused on him, waiting.

"i didn't mean to make you think i didn't care," he continued, clearly struggling with his words. "i just... don't do all the emotional crap. alright?"

the silence between them was palpable, her gaze heavy on him as he clenched his jaw in frustration.

"i don't know what the hell i'm supposed to say. i didn't even realize i was feeling... anything until recently. and you think i know how to handle that?" he laughed dryly, rubbing a hand over his face. "i'm not used to it. but i don't want you thinking i don't give a damn."

finally, he met her eyes, his expression more serious than usual. "i want to be with you. i don't know how to say it right, and i'll probably mess up again, but... i'm not blowing you off. this is just... new for me."

he shoved his hands in his pockets, half-turning as if he were done, but then muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear, "i care, y/n. more than i thought i could. so... there. happy now?"

it wasn't the most graceful confession, but for dabi, it was as close to vulnerability as y/n had ever seen. and she accepted it, even if she couldn't resist teasing him.

"wow, touya," she said, crossing her arms. "that was almost... cute. maybe you should write a book on feelings. 'how not to apologize 101."

"oh, fuck off, y/n."

with a sudden pull, dabi wrapped an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the couch. "what are we doing?" she asked, stumbling slightly. "barely got any sleep last night because of you," he grumbled, settling back and pulling her onto his chest. "so, we're fixing that." he sighed. "what if i don't want to sleep?"

"you do realize talking to me instead of sleeping is like asking a cat to fetch, right?" he groaned, pulling her closer.

"fine."

"thanks," he muttered, closing his eyes. "and y/n?" his voice was soft now. "hmm?" she questioned.

"i'm shit at communication so i know i don't have the right to say this, but promise me it won't take you getting wasted to tell me something that important again."

"deal."

"no. say you promise."

"i promise, touya."

with a kiss on her forehead, silence fell between them-this time, it was peaceful, a welcome contrast to the chaos of the night before.

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