#when the weather completely changes

[mspoodle1]

I like this by @arro-now -> X

And checking out a few worlds....just world hopping...Velaris by Kahh110 is cute.

[remcadll]

Gen obsessed with how.. *dead* your Jason's color pallete is. Like, that's corpse pale right there. Not a spec of blood left flowing in there (also father Todd's skin being full of color in comparison is a nice touch)

THANK YOU I love making him look a bit ghoulish. Guy who's not supposed to be alive but yes he is. no he isn't <3

[thegeekyartist]

Currently swaddled in bed spiraling hard bc I've had a pressure headache for days and my limbs feel heavy and I'm a little dizzy. My grandma had brain cancer and the only symptom my mom ever told me about was headaches so now I'm panicking that I've also got something terrifying growing inside my head.

[meuamo]

thinking about the babies born in 2020 and up in my city that will have to deal with rapidly changing weather for the rest of their lives like omg. if anything good comes out of it its that their body will be far more adaptable to weather than mine is

[nymphoutofwater]

everyday I have to figure out what to wear. the torment is never-ending.

[bungone]

i think it's very nice and very cool that we have a wildfire season here in california the same way that we have rainy seasons i'm sure that's a 100% normal thing and not incredibly horrifying if you take a minute to think about it

[riggedbones]

god i finally got fed up with the stupid windows 10 taskbar news thing and was able to turn off the thing where it opens automatically on hover. my laptop is slow enough that like since it just opens on hover and doesnt have a way to manually close it whenever i accidentally moused over it it'd come up and then take like an entire 10 seconds to close again. BEGONE.

[autism-swagger]

Girls when winter is getting nearer

[plethorawrites]

I feel like Jason Todd, being the paranoid, mistrusting man he is, would pick up on every single habit you have. He'd know the meal you always order at a restaurant, the steps of your skin care (from watching you do it while leaning on the door), the scents you loved, the weather you hated. He'd know the time you wake up, the time you go to bed, the time you typically get hungry, etc.

So, when you make ANY changes, he instantly gets suspicious. Like...super paranoid.

And he hates it. He does.

It kills him that when you say you're going to the grocery store on a Saturday evening, he doesn't believe you. Because you hate going on the weekend, since it's too busy and you hate driving between 5-6 because of the glare from sunset.

And then, you had to go and take a work call at three in the afternoon when you guys were getting lunch. But you always shut your phone off for lunch. Always.

He hates how paranoid it makes him. He hates how he starts to assume the worst because he wants to trust you. He does. And if you knew that his mind wandered to thoughts of betrayal, you'd be furious or heartbroken. Maybe both.

But when it does eventually come out (Either through a fight or just him finally being honest) you're neither. You're, to his surprise, completely understanding about his worry. Because everyone betrayed him at some point and you never wanted him to think you would do the same.

You explain every past discrepancy that had him worried and from then on— your boss told you to keep your phone on specifically to reschedule something, you were out something you needed desperately from the store, etc.

You also explain any future changes.

Yes, you typically went to the dentist every three months, but you were going twice in a single week (not because you were hooking up with your dentist, the way his stupid intrusive thoughts told him) but because your tooth started hurting. You know it's a bit overboard, having to explain every change in your routine, but you do.

Because it helps him.

And it takes a bit, but that constant need to know why things were off, even slightly, eventually fades.

You say you'll be home late and his mind no longer assumes you're stopping at someone else's house. You say you're too tired to go out to eat and his mind no longer wanders to thinking you're ashamed of being seen with him. You fall asleep with your back to him and he no longer immediately feels like you're falling out of love with him.

He trusts you.

You would never betray him or break that bond. Never.

And let's be honest...how often do you willingly choose to sleep on your side of the bed when you could be in his arms? Not often.

[valleydolli]

౨ৎ NFLplayer!Toji x WAG!reader ౨ৎ

Authors Note: This is so random it just came to me and I was like oh my goodness let me write it down and then I kept going, and going, and going and here we are... heh... ALSO I did NOT proof read it, because if I did I wouldn't post it cause I'm judgemental! I'm going to watch The Apothecary Diaries now!

NFLplayer!Toji, who spotted you in the crowd at one of his games. Causing him to completely freeze on the field, so captivated by your beauty. The Jumbotron cameras notice who he’s staring at and instantly puts you on the big screen. You have yet to realise because you weren’t paying attention to the game at all. It was your friend who dragged you here. Your friend punches your arm, causing you to wince. “What the hell?” You yell at her. She manually turns your head to look at the jumbotron with your face on it, captioned, “Fushiguro’s future WAG!” Your jaw drops to the floor. The crowd is roaring. The whole game deadass paused just for Toji Fushiguro, THEE Toji Fushiguro, to gawk at you.

What in the Wattpad story is this?!

NFLplayer!Toji, who, as soon as his game ended, yelled at his manager, Shiu, to go look for you. Shiu finds you shuffling your way out of the exit. He quickly runs to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turn ready to yell at the stranger touching you, but he’s holding up his badge that says, “Manager” on it. Shiu indicates that you should come with him. You go to say no, but your friend quickly places her hand on your mouth, guiding you to wherever this “Shiu” guy is taking you. 

NFLplayer!Toji, who is patiently waiting for Shiu to bring you into his locker room. Did he find you? Did you say no? So many questions running through his mind until he hears the door click, watching you walk right through. Your eyes scan Toji's personal locker room, before your beautiful eyes land on his green ones. He shoots up, walking to you, offering his hand. You take it, placing your smaller hand into his bigger one. Your eyes widen at how big they are. “Your hands are freakishly big, by the way.” He snorts, “Why do you think I'm the best at this shit?” 

“I don’t really pay attention to this shit. I just got invited by my friend.” You try to slide your hand out of his slowly before he claps it shut, keeping hold of your hand. You stare at him, confused, awkwardly laughing. He really likes holding your hand.

NFLplayer!Toji, who asks you then and there to go on a date with you. You want to say no, but something in you tells you to say yes. And you’re glad you did. The date was a disaster. It was so bad, but so funny and so cute. He really did try his best, but failed miserably. Though it wasn’t really his fault. He wanted to take you on a picnic date, and the weather app said it would be sunny out, but no, the universe decided to rain on his parade… literally. You were both soaked. The food was ruined. The blanket was soggy. Man, how unlucky could he be? He was sure you would never want to see his ass again.

NFLplayer!Toji, who was shocked when you asked if his apartment was nearby, so you both could dry off. It wasn’t, but he didn’t care, as long as he could spend more time with you after the disaster of a date they just had.

NFLplayer!Toji, who takes you back to his, not-so-nearby penthouse, giving you a change of clothes and a hair dryer to dry your hair. “This place is nice… My apartment is probably the size of your bedroom,” You laugh. 

NFLplayer!Toji, who tells you, “Don't worry. When I marry you, we’ll have a bigger place than this.” Your eyes widen, and he doesn’t laugh; he still has a stoic expression on his rugged face. “You’re extremely unserious, Toji. You know that?” 

“I’m being so fucking serious, doll.”

NFLplayer!Toji, who has been seeing you for months now. You’re not dating officially, but he brings you to all his events and football games, bragging about how you’re his wife. Not only skipping the girlfriend part, but just outright lying to people. Do you correct him, though? Of course not.

UpcomingWAG!reader, who has accumulated millions of followers, in the few months that she's been with Toji.

UpcomingWAG!reader, who gets heaps of hate and love comments on her social media.

NFLplayer!Toji, who hates every one of his fangirls and boys who harass you on social media.

NFLplayer!Toji, who made a social media account just to call said fangirls and boys, “pieces of shit” “nowhere near as gorgeous as his girl (you, duh.)” and personally going through your comment section reporting each and every hate comment and going on their profiles to call them ugly in the comments. It really doesn’t get to you, because you barely check your socials anyway. You just post what you want and dip. Whether it’s a photo of a new bag Toji got you, or a breakfast he made you, or just Toji his damn self. You couldn't care less.

NFLplayer!Toji, who asks you to marry him after his Super Bowl win— Oh, he didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend? Yeah, fuck that he had to get straight to the point. No wasting time around here. You better be ready to put on a damn white dress and head to a church. Because obviously you said yes.

NFLplayer!Toji, who fucks you like he hates you, roughly ramming his hips into you every night, holding you close to his body; so tight you wouldn't be able to break free even if you tried your upmost hardest, but it’s not like you would want to be away from him anyway. He kisses you deeply the whole time he's fucking you— no, making love to you. Confessing how much you've changed his life for the better. How no one could even come close to you.

NFLplayer!Toji, who marries you 3 months after proposing to you. A small wedding, but it was enough for you, so it was enough for him.

WAG!reader, who becomes an ICONIC WAG, maybe even more iconic that than Victoria Beckham and Cheryl Cole. You start some of the biggest fashion trends. The paparazzi always need to know where you are. You're gifted almost everything in your life now. You being shown on that Jumbotron really changed your life for the better. Toji, changed your life for the better.

NFLplayer!Toji, who is completely ready to start a family with you. He has been ready for a while, but he cares how you feel about it more. If you don't want kids, he’s okay with that. If you want to adopt, that's more than okay. But if you want him to breed the fuck out of you. Then it’ll be his damn pleasure.

WAG!reader, who lets Toji know that you do want kids with him just not so soon. You're young and you want to enjoy this new WAG status you've just gained.

WAG!reader, who after 2 years of being married, lets Toji know you're ready to start a family with him. He can't speak for a moment, but you straddle him pecking his lips, telling him to take you to your bedroom.

NFLplayer!Toji, who rushes to the bedroom, carefully placing you down on the sheets, kissing every each of your body... Literally. He's cherishing the future mother of his kid-- not kid, sorry, he means kids... PLURAL. You two are about to make a whole new NFL team. He fucked you into the night. Dumping heaps of his hot cum into your fertile womb.

"Toji, hah it's s-so much," you whimper.

He reassures that, you can take it, you have to take it. He straightens your legs, hugging them tightly, pounding into you roughly, but with love too. But fuck every mewl you make, every moan. It's extremely difficult for him to not fuck the shit out of you. But he knows he's much bigger than you, so he'll always be asking you and making sure his wife is okay.

He falls on top of you; the both of you cumming together intensely, trying to catch your breath. You lift his head up off your shoulder kissing him gently, telling how well he did. You both love to give each other praises. He's your hype man and you're his hype girl.

WAG!reader, who a month later takes a pregnancy test seeing those two special lines. You're excited to tell Toji but, he needs to be focused on practice right now. You don't want to shift that focus onto you.

NFLplayer!Toji, who has noticed a change in you but cant quite put his finger on it. Your skin is somehow more glowy than usual. But, you're also way more tired than before. You sleep in so late that you're asleep when he leaves for practice and you're asleep when he gets back.

NFLplayer!Toji, who is shocked to come back from practice, seeing you awake for once, but awake and standing in front of balloons that say "You're going to be a daddy!"

He stays still for a good 30 seconds surprised at what he's reading. He had an inkling that you might be pregnant, but he wasn't so sure. So, seeing this now, makes him the happiest person on this damn planet. He runs to you picking you up spinning you around like a princess before getting on his knees this place kisses on your not so pregnant looking stomach. He pledges to you and your unborn child.

"I promise I'll take good care of you... the both of you. I'll be an amazing Father I swear it.

The two of you decide to keep your pregnancy a secret from the public. You don't need unwarranted stress from not only the media, but fans too.

The following week you both go to your first scan, to take a look at the life you the made and the life you're growing. It's a little to early to find out the gender, but by the time your next appointment rolls by you'll know.

The next appointment comes and you find out you're carrying a boy. Toji, is ecstatic. He didn't mind what gender the baby would be, but he really did hope for a little boy and he got that. You've made his dream come true.

The nine months roll by sooner than anticipated. Your due date is right around the corner; close to Toji's birthday. He honestly hopes Megumi will stay in a little longer so they can share a birthday, but you got mad telling him to not wish further pain on you. Megumi's a big boy, thanks to his father... fatass.

NFLplayer!Toji, who panics when you wake him up abruptly, telling him your waters broke. He shoots out of bed grabbing everything needed to give birth to your little blessing. You’re screaming in the car while making your way to hospital, scaring the fuck out of Toji. Hr wants to cry, he’s never seen you like this and he hates it. It’s his fault, all his fault.

“It’s not your fault, Toji. I’m just going through labour. It’s natural. Just— oh my god, just drive to the fucking hospital!”

Toji may have sped slightly to the hospital, but safely of course…

After 3 hours you gave birth to your beautiful baby boy, Megumi.

NFLplayer!Toji, who cried for the first time since he was a young boy, after hearing the cries of your new born child. He kissed and thanked you profusely for being in his life. You honestly changed him for the better. He doesn’t know where he would be without you.

NFLplayer!Toji, who proudly walks out of the hospital with you in one hand and baby Megumi in the other. Walking out into the many flashing lights of paparazzi, that got some inside information that you just gave birth to a baby boy. You both surf your way through the sea of nosey paps before making it to your car, heading home a new family of three.

:p

© 2025 @valleydolli please don't copy or translate any of my work. all rights reserved. (I will find you if you do.)

[st4rbwrry]

𓊆ྀི󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠󠀠 ୨୧ ˖ ࣪ . . . 6.3k. black fem!reader ◞ librarian!armin ◞ lowercase intended ◞ rainstorm / trapped in , protection use ◞ size difference ◞ praise ◞ oral ꒰ f + m. ꒱ ◞ humping the air ◞ prone bone ◞ hair pulling ◞ spanks & choking ◞ armin’s cocky in this ngl ◞ brief throat fucking ◞ fingering ◞ pet names ꒰ cutie , baby , bunny ꒱ . minors aren’t welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated <3 𓊇ྀི

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . still questioning whether i like the way i wrote this + armin in general. but, this is my first fic coming back from hiatus so im def a lil rusty lolz. this was written purely off a trip to the library and spotting a blonde boy ‘n a kitty. <3 smut linkies > > ( ❤︎. ❤︎. )

 

rain falls in heavy sheets for hours. trees rock with brutal winds as clouds descend into darkness. a gust of cold wind blows at the heavy doors to the library, aggressively slamming shut behind you along with the chime of a vintage shopkeeper bell. the old man, mister arlert, who usually runs the shop is nowhere to be found. it shouldn't be of surprise given the sudden change of weather; rushing here to return a few books that passed their deadline before your departure back home. 

you had a flight to catch early in the afternoon to spend time with your family for fall break. located in the blistering heat of the countryside. having already packed the night before given your dire need of hefty attire, cosmetics, and toiletries — there hadn’t been much to do these past two days. you’ve been cooped up into your apartment off campus after finals ended, cleaning your home, tending to self care, and binging long awaited tv shows. 

today the weather was brutal. rain literally beating down on your windows for hours now. there’s been crackles of thunder, but nothing much to worry of. although, your phone did buzz a few good times in reminder of flash flooding and possible tornadoes. it never was anything to be too concerned over given you lived in the east coast. at most, there’d be small floods, nothing exceeding two inches. since it’s currently fall, the weathers migrating to windy and chilly temperatures. tis the season for sweaters and leg warmers. 

since you had nothing better to do, you remembered you had to run a quick errand to return a few books you’d borrowed from the local library. there’s a sweet old man who owned the shop; mister arlert. each time he saw you he’d always give the warmest greetings. usually helping you with finding exactly what you needed or even giving suggestions of novels he’s enjoyed during his younger days. most of which he read to his wife. 

stepping deeper into the library, it’s completely silent. your clothes are slightly dampened, having to run towards the door to not get entirely soaked. with the books clutched close to your chest, you quietly make yourself known in the presence of whomever was here. you’d made the worst decision of wearing shorts, your thighs wet from the rain, droplets sliding down to your bethan doc martens. luckily, your wore an oversized toffee sweater that reached the backs of your thighs. 

“hello?! mister arlert?” 

silence. 

so, you continue your exploration. maybe mister arlert was in the back dusting off classics. suddenly, you hear a meow coming from the library’s famous cat; fluffles. the chunky orange persian feline with streaks of white on its fluffy coat — hence the name. you smile, clicking your tongue to get his attention as you coed and stumbled closer. 

“hii pretty baby. how are you today? i know, the weather’s scary, huh?” cutely, you gasp when his tiny head knocks into your palm delicately for comfort, purring softly. 

he’s feeding into your attention to him for two minutes before he’s made the decision to walk away. you follow him blindly, trying to see if anyone will pop up around the large, brown shelves of collections. to your luck, you do find someone. 

there’s a man you’ve never seen before, especially here at least. he has his back to you and doesn't seem to notice you, lost in his own world. you watch him for a moment, appreciating his focus and attention to detail as he carefully arranges the books. 

first, your eyes fall straight onto his hair, gawking with bloomed irises of pure enchantment. it’s blonde and bright, like the sun almost. ringlets of curls and really fluffy. it surrounded his features like a paper stick of cotton candy. really airy to touch, you’re sure of it. he’s tall, even though he’s standing on a latter organizing novels. he’s got earphones plugged in, blasting incredibly loud because even you could hear the muffled tunes of jazz he hummed along with. 

“excuse me?” you manage to announce yourself, lifting your hand to wave in his direction so he’d spot you. 

the man blinks slowly, eyes on yours in the prettiest shade of icy blue. it was too dreamy, he looked like a daydream. you could even smell him, too. his cologne like clean linen. laundry on a soft sunday. his lips are full and pink. his body is adorned in chocolate brown cargo pants and a white t-shirt, a plain black button-up draped over, halfway rolled up his forearms. 

“oh, sorry. didn’t hear you come in. i’m about to close, actually.”

you didn’t expect him to sound the way he did. his voice has a certain dialect to it, kind of valley-like. the baritone of it is quiet, yet has undertones of raspiness. it’s gentle, he looks the same. 

“h-hi, um — is mister arlert here? i know i came pretty late, but i promised him i'd have these books back by today."

“nah, he's not here today. won't be back for a while," he replies calmly. “i’m his grandson. names armin.”

“sorry, i’m ꒰ ❤︎ ꒱. um, is he okay?"

armin takes note of your worry, expression softening slightly. "yeah, well — he's gettin' up there and wasn't feelin' too good. i'm coming from uni for fall break, so i've just been looking over the shop for him."

the news upsets you. "oh, no. i'm sorry to hear that."

armin shrugs nonchalantly. "it's alright. he's a tough old boy, he'll be back soon." 

knocking his head fully up, he glances out the window at the pouring rain and lets out a heavy sigh. you’re eyeing the silver chain around his neck and wrist. "man, it's bad out there. did you bike or somethin'? how’d you even make it here?"

"i didn't expect it to get this bad, honestly. i was really adamant on returning this since i'll be home for fall break. but, i drove."

an eyebrow arches. "in this weather? that's reckless."

pursing your lips, you shrug. “kinda. if you say so. weather like this doesn’t scare me.” 

“hm.” 

you notice the way he . .  looks at you. it’s like he’s trying to find what to say to you while also keeping his composure. eyes running up and down your curvy figure. you’ve got this cute crocheted set on that looks handmade. shorts that sit on your hips perfectly and a thin strapped top that barely covers your torso, a teddy bear stitched into the bosom. your knit sweater keeping you warm along with leg warmers.  your hair is to your shoulders, half of it pulled back into a pony with a black bow. you’re pretty. 

breaking the awkward silence, there’s a crackle of thunder that startles the both of you, booming so loud it causes car alarms to go off. soon after, the lights began to flicker inside the shop, panic settling into you as you run to go check on your car, only to find there had been an inconvenient accident. a tree stump was cracked in half causing it to crash onto a few cars ahead of yours while also blocking the main road to head home, meaning you’d have no way of leaving here tonight until the storm passed.

“fuck,” you slam your hand to your mouth in agony. “ugh, no!" 

armin’s not far from behind you as he checks to see the collision. his face scrunches up in irritation, knowing he’d also have no way of leaving here tonight. the floods are picking up, the rain is beating down heavier, and it wouldn’t be safe for either of you to depart right now. thankfully, his car was parked in the back. 

“that’s just fuckin’ great,” armin sucks his teeth, placing his palm on the window and dropping his head. “well, that’s not good. looks like we’re both stuck here for the night.” 

your distress is fairly evident, forehead in your palm as you groan and ponder, trying your best not to crash out. “i literally can’t. i have a flight in the morning. this is really bad.” 

armin’s got a look of sympathy for you. “it's really coming down out there. and that tree looks like it could have damaged the road below it. there's really no way you're getting out of here anytime soon."

that didn’t make you feel any better. though, he tries his best to offer comfort.

“hey, it’s g’na be alright. i understand your worries about your flight, but safety is more important right now. it’s not worth risking your life trying to bypass this issue.” 

with a deep sigh to collect your emotions, you nod. you could agree on that. you’re sure your family would prefer if you visited with your body intact. “you’re right. i have to contact my parents. i don’t know, maybe the flights will be delayed?” 

“most likely. i doubt they’ll risk it. i’m hoping it’ll clear up in a few hours,” armin shakes his wrist to eye the watch on his wrist. “it’s a little after ten now. guys might come ‘round five.” 

“god, what a mess. i'm not usually stranded in a library with a stranger." you meet his gaze, feeling a bit self-conscious. “no offense."

armin chuckles and shakes his head. "yeah, i get it. this isn't exactly a normal situation. but, i’m not too bad company, right?"

"you're eerily calm about this. it kinda frustrates me.

armin smirks, "panic won't change the situation. it's best not to overthink it. plus, the old boy has plenty of natural disaster knick knacks in the back."

"hm.”

armin can see that you're still concerned. he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "sorry if i seem so cavalier about this. i’m just trying not stress you out even more.” 

maybe you were being a bit standoffish. it seems like he’s trying his best to make you comfortable. taking a deep breath, you sigh. “it’s okay, i’m sorry. i have a bad habit of being cold when i’m overstimulated.” 

when he smiles again, you notice a faint dimple sinking into the crevice of his top cheekbone. he’s super fucking cute. that’s another factor to your stress. you’re trying not to freak out over the fact that you’re stranded here with a man you’ve found yourself newly attracted to. anything could happen in this scenario. it’s straight out of a porno. question is, would you let it get that far? 

“it’s cool, i get it,” armin strokes the pad of his thumb across his lower lip, watching you. “c’mon, lemme show you the attic.” 

“okay.” 

following behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from wandering over his backside. he’s very slim but well built in the right areas, specifically his back, arms, and thighs. you study his walk as he digs one hand in his pocket and safely guides you up a spiral staircase leading to a secret room behind an almost ancient wooden door. 

it’s a cute little nook above the library that nearly resembled a loft apartment. there’s rustic brick walls, polished wooden floors, a kitchen, and futon in a living area. boxes upon boxes stocked in different sections filled with precious material.

"wow, this is pretty neat." 

armin grins. "yeah, it's a pretty cool little hideaway. the old man's had this place for so long that he's got pretty much everything he needs. even when the power goes out, this place stays cozy."

and for some reason, a few moments after he uttered those words, the power went out. the room is plunged into darkness as the power fails, leaving you and armin in the dim light that filters in through the windows due to the lightning. armin looks a bit surprised, but quickly composes himself.

“well, i guess that was perfect timing," he jokes. "looks like we're gonna test out that old man's preparedness."

hugging yourself tight, you swallow as you hear him pull out a drawer, revealing a few candles.

"help me light these, huh?"

you nod and rush over to help, and as the warm, flickering light from the candles illuminates the room, you can't help but feel a bit more at ease. the cozy atmosphere created by the candlelight gives the space a certain charm. as you finish setting up the candles, placing them in areas of the space that needed it, you notice that armin is already rummaging through the cabinets, looking for something specific. a radio he finds gets cut on to listen in on the news. 

"there's a few roads blocked, it seems. hopefully it won't get too bad to where'd people have to evacuate." 

solemnly, you nod. "yeah, i hope it doesn't come to that. it’s bad enough that we're stuck here already."

"hey, it's not . . too bad. don't get discouraged. we can make the time past. i've got some blankets and a futon for you. i can give you your space if you're feeling uncomfortable or anything."

"no, i uh . . actually wouldn't mind your company. it'd take my mind off the situation."

armin’s a bit relieved. "alright, that works for me. uh, you can sleep on the futon and i can just crash on the armchair over there." 

he walks over to a closet and pulls out a stack of blankets, handing them to you. "here, take these. it can get pretty cold up here, especially at night."

"thank you. i really appreciate it.”

“of course. anything else you need? ima go lock up the shop, feed the cat, then i’ll be back up.” 

“you got some food? if i knew this'd happen i wouldn't have left spaghetti on the stove,” you roll your lips inward after giggling. 

he finds you incredibly cute. chuckles and nods. "lucky for you, he’s got a stockpile of food in here. let me do some grocery shopping for lunch breaks. i can make some ramen. you like that?" he suggests.

your stomach growls at the thought, both of you hearing it and sharing a wholehearted laugh. "yeah, that'd be awesome actually."

"cool. i’ll be right back.” 

you get accustomed to the area you’re in, taking a seat on the sofa and wrapping yourself up into the blankets for warmth. you checked your phone to see if you had any service and possibly contact your parents, but there was no luck. even though the texts sent through green, it was better to send it just in case you’d gain connection once the power cut back on. it didn’t take long for armin to come back up, giving you a sweet smile while he heads towards the fridge to grab some ingredients. thankfully, he had a gas stove to work with.

"talk to me, cutie. i don't want you to be nervous around me."

you pause, a bit taken aback by the pet name. ignoring the way your face just heated up. “okay. what do you w’na talk about?"

"you said you have a flight tomorrow. where to?"

"uh, my parents live across country,�� picking at the blanket with your nails, you study his movements. how quickly his wrist moves when cutting vegetables. god. “we're supposed to meet up for a family get together. horse riding, fishing, cook outs . . the usual."

armin listens intently, interested in getting to know you. "you can ride a horse?"

"yeah, i mean . . i don't do it as often anymore, but i'm decent at it. i'm actually more excited about the fishing. i haven't done that in a while."

"what's the biggest thing you've caught?"

"hmm, that's a tough one. there was this pretty big bass i caught when i was sixteen. i remember it took like thirty minutes to reel it in. me and my uncle cooked it up real good with some grits,” you reply, recalling the memory with a smile. "what about you? fan of fishing?"

"not really my hobby. i'll probably sound like a old man myself, but i'm into chess and shit. pottery is a thing of mine as well."

"ooo, pottery. i've always wanted to do something new like that. i’ll push it up in my list of hobbies."

"i could teach you. it's not hard. not really," he smirks, "i'm always looking for another person to play with. tease a lil', make 'em think they're doing good." 

this is flirting. has to be. so of course, you play along. "hm, masochist. am i your next victim?" 

armin chuckles and cocks an eyebrow at your question. "are you implying something?" he teases, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk.

"not implying, just prying."

“next topic,” he winks causing you to roll your eyes. 

trying to figure out what else to say, you twiddle your manicured fingers in thought. "it's sweet of you to look over the library while mister arlert's gone. most people would let it rot and go about their lives."

“honestly, he’s done a lot for me so it was never g’na be a hesitation when i found out the news. i’ve always kept to myself, even as a kid. i find comfort in books and silence, and i guess that’s why i enjoy spending time here. i get to shut off my brain.” 

“you sound pretty reserved. i admire that. it's cute." 

the sound of the storm outside provides a soothing background noise along with the warmth from the candles. armin’s finished cooking the ramen. using store bought packs of shin and adding miso paste, kewpie mayo, eggs, scallions, and even some rotisserie chicken. the ramen tastes delicious and makes you feel warm. the conversations you have flows effortlessly and makes time pass as the two of you trade stories and laugh at each other's jokes.

by now, the attraction is mutual. unexpected deep topics were spoken of and the two of you found each other sitting body to body, sharing warmth. armin’s got his arm thrown behind the back of the futon where you sit, thighs spread apart while you sit cutely beside him bundled under the blankets. legs crossed, eyes and scent encompassing his. 

as the conversation begins to lull, armin glances towards the window and notices that the storm seems to be dying down. "hey, looks like the rain’s starting to let up," he observes. 

you glance over your shoulder, seeing that it’s lighter outside, meaning it’s dawn now and you’ve been chatting for hours. “oh . . yeah, i think i hear the recovery workers.” 

the thought of leaving armin in possibility that you won’t see each other for a while feels like a knife to your gut. you’re drawn to him in a way that surprises you. the night is coming to an end, so you find yourself reluctant to say goodbye. you want something more, something passionate.

without realizing it, your gaze drifts to armin’s lips. they look soft and inviting, and the desire to feel them against yours is almost overwhelming. the air between you two suddenly feels charged with eroticism. it’s as if you're both feeling the same pull, the same desperate need to touch more than you were. 

"you can't kiss me." 

his words.

it seems to break the spell that had enveloped the room. your eyes widen in surprise, expression shifting from desire to confusion.

"what?" you weren’t sure if you heard him correctly.

"it's just . . if you kiss me, it'll turn into something else."

your expression softens, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "is that a bad thing?"  

he makes you anxious, his fingertips tracing the exposed skin of your hips, your body shivering. the room suddenly feels unbearably hot, and your heart is pounding in your chest. armin’s found himself torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to press you against him. 

“no, but i'll get addicted and want you more,” he murmurs, tone low and sensual. “don’t think this is the right setting right now. you deserve more.” 

“and what's so wrong with wanting more?" you’re moving even closer to him, chest pressing up on his side. 

his fingers continue to trace small circles against your skin, armin’s eyes going gray at your words. the proximity makes it difficult for him to think straight, and his desire for you is growing stronger by the second. but, he’s also aware of the danger of giving in to this passion. he could feel his resolve weakening, but he tries to steady himself. 

the more you think about it, maybe this wasn’t the appropriate setting nor time. you’ve just met this man and only known him for a couple of hours. a few good conversations were had, he cooked you some top quality ramen even under the circumstances, he’s beautiful . . but, you didn’t want to regret it if something did happen now. so it’d be best to wait. 

"you know what, maybe . . this isn't a good idea. you’re right," you manage to stammer out. but your protest is weakening as armin closes what little distance is left between you, breath warm on your neck where his lips go to kiss. 

“nah, i’m wrong. fuck it,” he rasps by your ear, opening his mouth fully to latch onto the sensitive area of your neck. his tongue follows in a sloppy kiss, hand coming up to grab you by the neck. 

a gasp falters when you feel how hot his hand was on your skin, clutching your neck entirely in his grasp, squeezing your thighs tight and scrunching your face up from pleasure. his kisses are audible, making it known how bad he wants you. your sweater begins to slip off your shoulders as he maneuvers his way down to your chest, groping and inching both of his hands inside of your top to smooth them down towards your sides and reaching your hips briefly. hotly gripping at your flesh. 

“armin,” a weak whimper. “we shouldn’t.” 

armin catches your wrist the moment you go to stand abruptly, yanking you back towards his chest and towering over you in the process, his gaze darkening as he glares down at you. 

"i want your taste on my lips. c’mon, bunny.” 

his soft plea sends a jolt through you, fingers entwining with your own before he’s guiding that arm behind your back and resting it on your ass he uses as leverage to press you up against the bulge in his jeans, body bending backwards slightly to give yourself some air to breathe. and when he does this thing, like wind his waist to rub his clothed dick against you with a snarky ‘mhm’ blown out with frustrated air — it sends you into a state of blurriness. his scent envelops your senses, growing weaker in his hold as you stare up at him with need.  

“i —” you can’t understand why you're protesting. you knew you wanted him, and it’s clearly mutual. he just scares you, in a really good way. you fear that if you have sex with this man, it wouldn’t be the end of it. and possibly could progress to more. 

“say yes so i know you want it, then sit back down.” 

it’s clear you both didn’t care about the situation you were in anymore. you just needed it, bad. done playing cat and mouse. swallowing from his switch of demeanor, you slowly nod. 

“yes.”

so, you sit. lowering your body while training your eyes to stay on his. you’ve removed your sweater completely, tits exposed to the cool air of the attic as the straps cling to your arms. he thinks you look fucking yummy. he damn near could salivate. 

taking his seat back beside you, armin’s stretching his hands to pull your top down to your stomach, grazing your skin passionately but with notions of aggression. he wants to be sweet to you, he’ll try. he’s got his back to the couch again, spreading his thighs to give relief of the blood rushing to his dick. brushing a hand through his hair, you watch in fascination as the follicles bounce back in front of his eyes, his hand coming to unbutton his jeans as he rubs your thighs and catches your soft lips back onto his. 

it’s more aggressive this time, swallowing your lips and grazing tongues, noses smushed. you suck on his tongue, grinding in your spot and trailing your hands towards his jeans, helping him tug them down to sit at his thighs. unlatching your mouths, armin grips your chin, thick fingers indenting into your cheeks before giving you another rough kiss, his pupils blown. 

“come spit on it,” he rasps.

moaning from the way he spoke, he’s guiding your face down with the hold on your jaw, brows furrowed and pink, plush lips going agape as your dainty hands pulls his cock out of his briefs. when you see it, it makes all the more sense why he acts and talks the way he does. 

“mmph,” you moan in awe almost, fitting both of your hands around it as it throbs in your possession. “s’so pretty, ‘min.”

“yeah? . . is it too much for you?” 

that makes you grin. “mm-mm,” you deny. “i like it.” 

whatever overcomes you the moment he shifts his hips in silent plead and grips at your ponytail tight could only be adored from his view. with both of your palms wrapped around his dick; fat, curved towards his stomach with a tinted pink tip. one hefty muscle protruding the underside that you know will feel so good when he slips it in. and cutely, a beauty mark or two. his pubes are neatly trimmed, as blonde as his pretty hair. you’re drooling at this point. and you use that to salivate over his dick, armin practically dragging your head towards his dick and moaning when you do as you were told and coat it with spit. 

“yeahh — unh, good girl,” armin hisses, groaning and adjusting himself in his seat as you stroke your hand at the base, leading your way up and over the flushed head. 

he doesn’t expect you to do it, you really didn’t have to, but he’s not hellbent on stopping you either. the minute you hike yourself up so you’re arching over him, armin’s smoothing his hand over your ass now raised up and whimpering when your mouth engulfs half of his dick with a greedy moan. 

“ooh, that’s good baby. yes,” it twitches on your tongue that’s planted at the base as you suckle and drag your lips over either side. 

swaying your hips, armin sucks on his bottom lip before landing a hit to your ass, taking a handful of the fat of it after. your throats sinking further, tasting all of him while he’s raising his hips to gently fuck into your mouth. his head gets thrown back, lips parting and releasing gasps when you go to clutch his throat, pushing his head further back so it touches the wall behind, and slurping at his dick sloppily. 

“oh my god, gimme that,” armin can’t help the way his eyes roll back into his skull, unable to properly breathe. every time he tries to silence a moan, it’d come out higher pitched than the other, alternating between rough groans and whimpers. 

the gags coming from your throat along with the paced bobs of your head makes him clutch your neck to pull you up, smashing his lips on yours and roaming his hands down your thighs. he couldn’t wait any longer. if you feel that good through your mouth, he could only dream of how your pussy felt. 

catching your breath, he’s swiping a thumb over your lips to clean you up, your body mindlessly gravitating towards him, bug-eyed and nibbling at your lips.

“take these off ,” he whispers, biting his lip as he tugs on your shorts. “gotta taste you. i know it’s fuckin’ wet.” 

the quicker you tugged them off, the faster your heart pounded. armin situates himself by laying back on the sofa, politely taking your hand and carefully leading you up to sit on his face. his dick is heavy on his stomach, your thighs hovered over his head and crouching your pussy just enough for him to inhale your essence. it’s glistening in shiny slick, precious bud hiding underneath puffy pillows from his direct view. 

“every part of you is gorgeous as fuck,” armin groans, lifting one of his legs to plant on the sofa while he levels his head at just the right spot to catch your clit before you could even utter a word.

he’s kneading the flesh of your ass in his veiny hands, pushing and rocking you on his fat tongue as you listen to the incredulous sound of him slurping. you can’t speak, mewling while locking your lips beneath your teeth, threading your fingers through his fluffy hair to yank on. he’s sucking you up, all of your flavors, puffy lips enclosing around your achy clit, tasting heavenly on his palate. 

"she's such a loud girl.” thwack! it’s a hard hit he lands on your ass while grunting, your stomach rolling inward from the heat that illuminates your entire body. legs vibrating and moans breathless. “let me slip my fingers in, huh? make me fit.” 

“uh huh, yesplease.” 

gyrating your pussy into his mouth, you’re leaning further down till his nose is mushed to your clit, armin giving an audible, nasty open mouthed kiss before rubbing two fingers against his tongue, parting your folds and slowly sinking them in, armin landing a smack on your ass again to feel you pulsate and clench. in the moment, he’s unable to keep his waist from grinding upwards, dick twitching, practically humping the air as he drowns his face in your cunt.

“fuck, your fingers make me feel s’full,” you cry out, scooting so he could dip them deeper. the tingles are rushing to the pit of your stomach, lifting and dropping your ass back onto his fingers. “can i fuck them?” 

shit, you really got him spent. “yes, baby. ‘fuckin course you can. such a good baby for asking.” 

the way he speaks to you is crucial for your arousal. your moans flow out almost thankfully for that. it’s like he knows exactly what to say to you. you wish you could see his face squished under you, you know in your soul he looked messy, and you fear seeing him like that would make you squirt on the spot. a proper, sweet talking, respectful man completely losing himself in your pussy. it’s hot.

“good girl, biiig stretch.” they’re moving in coordination; the speed of his fingers and the pressure of his mouth sucking and swallowing at you. he’s loud when he does it, too. like, whimpering along with you, loud. 

“f-fuck, my tummy,” whining, you never stop your hips from swaying. voice breaking and trying your best to keep your mouth from drooling. everything felt so, so good. “anh, armin! ‘m g’na cum.” 

“all in my mouth, alright?” 

the grip of your pussy around his fingers is maddening. shoving them in and out at a steady pace and purposely thrumming against that spongy spot. you’re grinding on his face while maintaining your clasp on his scalp and the couch. when you cum, armin makes sure he keeps at his rhythm while thrashing his tongue heavily on your bud, holding his breath with you and letting you groan intensely while he follows pursuit. gasp’s ensuing.

“fuckk, good bunny. c’mere,” chin doused with your juices, he slams a palm on your ass and trails his hands to lay you flat on your tummy. 

too out of it to think of what he was doing next, you clutch onto the sofa with your cheek flat to the furniture, catching your breath and trying to fix the blur of your sight. you listen to him shuffling to find something in the room, smiling into your arm when you feel his touch on you again, smoothing his big and surprisingly baby soft palms up the back of your thighs leading to your ass. 

armin hovers over you, patting the shape of your butt with his dick a few times before you hear him rip a condom with his teeth. he’s bending to kiss at your back, shuddering from the new sensation when it gets sloppier. tongue lolling out to drag up your spine following suite with passionate kisses. his hair is disheveled, tickling at your forehead when he goes to kiss your temple, then your nose, then your lips.

rolling the condom onto his dick, he slaps it at your pussy, biting his lip as he listens to the lewd sound of wetness. then, while taking his time does he begin to slide in, the tip alone making you squeak and grip at the sofa. mouth agape, you unabashedly rock your ass back, impatience settling in. 

“m-mmgh,” the rumble in your throat is stammered, his weight on you making it impossible to escape. trapped in, no running, free use for him. 

“keep your thighs pressed together,” armin whispers. 

the feeling of his skin on yours sets you ablaze. he’s removed all of his garments because he couldn’t bare not having your skin against his. the hairs on his muscular thighs and legs scraping on yours as he works his way deeper in your pussy made your eyes shift to white. the path of his toned abdomen on your backside, the plush of his lips on your temple, and then the hot hand he clutches your throat in as his elbow rests on the sofa makes you fucking dizzy. 

breath mingling with yours, sharing moans when his dick is fully in, armin hisses in your ear, sunshine hair drifting upon your sight, nudging just where you begged for him to be. the possession of your throat in his lock gets tighter, carefully subduing your airway while making sure you could still breathe enough. this kind of intimacy wasn’t what you expected from him. not at all. 

it starts off slow. handling you with respect for a sum of minutes until he’s stuffing you full, forcing you to take it all. gummy walls suffocating his cock. tendrils stick to your face, hair falling from its perfect bow causing your hair to swarm around your features flawlessly in layers. as if you couldn’t get prettier. 

“hu—uh,” armin’s brokenly moaning, sharp hips slamming down onto your plump ass, recoiling from every hit. it starts steady, but every pound transcends rougher, harder. 

“oooo, s-shit,” you stammer out, face screwing up before you release a quiet scream. “k-keep your dick right there, baby. you’re on my spot.” 

“fuuck, yess. that's where i want it,” he’s grunting in your face, brows furrowed as he gets buried in the pleasure of you, cunt sloppy and squelching from each draw back and dip of his dick. 

skin clapping, breaths inordinate, he’s fucking you. it’s almost embarrassing how loud you were, moaning in syllables after every pound and wanting to scramble away from the unutterable pleasure of him, his tone, and body heat. he smells like the cleanest linen with hints of jasmine. a fucking trip.

armin can say the same for you. everything about you overtakes his mind. he loves the way you talk, mannered and sweet. loves the way you smell, like wild strawberries. the fullness of your lips when his are immersed. the twinkle in your feline eyes when you admire him. you’re smart, beautiful, and taste real good. that’s an issue. 

“prettiest fuckin' bunny ever,” now he’s licking at the shell of your ear, tracing from there to the underside of your jaw. it’s got you so heated. 

there’s that pet name again. it came from a joke he had made during your conversations earlier. how you bounce in your spot when contemplating what to say or just anxious. but now you’re really moving like one. whining and pawing at the furniture while weighing your ass back each time he grinds forward. 

“take me, take me — fuck,” you’re full on crying now, skin sticking to each others, sockets full of tears and losing your mobility. 

armin’s face is flushed, tinted red nearly. he takes your right arm and throws it over his neck, armin’s mouth finding the peaks of your nipples to eat at greedily, other hand pressing down on your arch for better balance before he’s inching halfway out and striking forcefully. he studies the fall of your jaw, tossing your head back and shuddering out your noises. he’s moaning in your chest, fucking you harder. the way you choke yourself and stare at him makes him lose his mind. 

“m’c-cumminggg,” dragging out whines, you raise your knee up higher which his body is planted on, squealing as his balls collide with your clit now that there’s room. 

armin doesn’t intentionally do it out of irritation or anything, but he’s quick to toss your arm off of him and take hold of your hips, deepening your arch, forearms popped out with veins bulging and fucking into you with crudeness. forgetting he cared about you momentarily just to cum. still staying where he needed to please you. 

“me too, fuck. me too . . fuckk.” 

the warmth of him embracing you with strong arms burying your head and cumming first. it’s not long after when you’re frantically squeezing your thighs together and humming gravely, armin humping slow to ease your quivering. neither of you wanted to move. glued in the same position sharing intimate, slow, sloppy kisses. tracing each others skin delicately with the pads of your fingers, smiling like idiots and cracking small jokes. 

you’d fallen asleep before him, waking up to a brightly lit attic and the smell of cigarettes, tucked under comfy blankets and rubbing your eyes to find armin sitting at the loveseat manspreading and smoking a quick cigarette — watching you. it was cute, until you began coughing and he immediately apologized. the roads were long cleaned up, debris in mass areas of the city. it was finally time to head home. 

you got his number, rescheduled your flight for early next morning, and he promised he’d call you when you’ve safely arrived, excited to hear your voice say his name again. 

© 𝒮𝒯𝟦𝑅𝐵𝒲𝑅𝑅𝒴! all rights reserved. please do not copy, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡

[reasonsforhope]

"South African entrepreneur Phumla Makhoba is on a mission to solve the “global south housing crisis.” And she’s doing it by using clothing waste.

Her invention, Texiboard, is a material that combines fibers found in textile waste with lime cement to create a durable, affordable, and circular building material.

The result is a textured, white square, almost tile-like, that is created with recycled materials — not emission-generating wood or concrete.

“It can be used to make furniture, flooring, walls, or even your entire home,” Makhoba said in a video for social media account We Got Earth.

The first iterations of the Texiboard included colorful cotton threads that were compressed together, with multiple attempts to remove cracks and seams and perfect the ratios of size, shape, and material mass.

With her design firm, Studio People, Makhoba has been working since 2022 to perfect the TexiBoard. 

Makhoba has since created a solid panel, with shredded textile fiber and natural lime cement fully cured. Finally, it can be formed into a full sheet of building material.

Once realized, the Texiboard will confront the estimated 92 million tons of clothing waste generated around the globe each year. But it will also provide safe and stable housing that Makhoba says only 20% of South Africans can afford.

“Growing up, I saw two worlds: one with polished buildings, and one built from scrap,” she said in a video. “I always wondered, why do some people get homes that last and others get homes that leak?”

Now, the Texiboard design is available as an open-source resource, and Makhoba and her team host in-person workshops for locals living in shacks to learn how to build their own supportive and sustainable housing.

“Just having a roof isn’t enough,” Makhoba said. “A real home should protect you from the weather, work for your daily life, and not fall apart in five years.”

Her approach includes a full theory of change. Right now, Studio People is in the input process, building partnerships and funding to scale their operation. From there, they hope to develop a fully sustainable supply chain to manufacture and sell Texiboards and help build affordable housing for people in need.

Once that dream is realized, Makhoba outlines the tangible output of this work: Economically inclusive waste management, circular building materials, green jobs, and a sustainable housing and manufacturing market.

“Informal settlements can be transformed when we all work together,” she shares on the Studio People website. “Texiboard is the seed of innovation that will create updated trade jobs in the innovative building industry.”

Although the Texiboard is still being completely perfected, the goal is to provide a weather-proof, cost-effective, and circular way to house people by democratizing the act of building.

“Our goal is to create an egalitarian and sustainable urban environment, helping shack dwellers and youth out of poverty,” Studio People shared on LinkedIn.

“We empower the underdog, including people and businesses, to co-create solutions in our fight against the housing crisis, unsustainable building materials, and unemployment — one board at a time.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, May 28, 2025

[dr4kenlvr]

"i wanna go home early tonight." — mha boys reaction to you telling them you wanna leave early [tiktok trend]

gn!reader x mha boys (deku, bakugo, todoroki, iida, kirishima, kaminari, sero) — 0.8k words

nana’s note: that one tiktok trend where people prank their bf saying they don’t wanna stay over the night LOL thought about kaminari’s reaction and decided to write everyone else’s. stupid, humorous, crack fic as the people say

deku: is on his phone and whips his head at you so fast you’d think he got whiplash LMAOO “w-wait, why?” he’s stammering already and frozen in place because poor izuku thinks he did something wrong to make you want to leave. drops his phone and all his attention is on you now and cue that inner monologue of his where he’s RAMBLING. his face gets all pink, eyes bubbling with concern as he tries to figure out what’s wrong, running through all possible reasons in the next three seconds until he just blurts out: “i can sleep on the couch!” PFFTTT you feel bad and stop the prank earlier than intended. he scratches his neck and laughs awkwardly as how quick he sold himself out HAHAHAA.

bakugo: “the fuck? why?” — instant hostility (toned down because it’s towards you). this mf was probably doing stretches on his floor because we all know he’s quietly all about that nightly wind-down routine. his brows furrow, lip curled in near disgust (you know that ugly face he makes all the time? yeah, LMAO) at the mere possibility that you don’t wanna stay the night. “because i’m not feeling it,” you retaliate with a shrug. bakugo watches you for a moment, completely silent as he scrutinizes your words. you almost break under his gaze cause like can he chill for 4 seconds… but he’s too smart and can see through your façade. “is this another damn tiktok trend? fuck outta my face with that.” (he spends the rest of the night by your side, doing whatever it is you want in silence)

todoroki: stares at you dumbfounded for a whole three seconds before quietly asking “… oh … why?” BUT SHOUTO IS SO SWEET BECAUSE THEN he’s questioning if you’re feeling okay, all gently and calmly. he’s quick to place a palm to your forehead, “are you feeling under the weather? i think fuyumi has some medication. do you want some water, too?” and he’s already half off the bed to fetch you whatever :( AWWW MY ANGEL BOY. you probably vow to never prank this boy in this sense again because he’s just too oblivious for his own good. got a good laugh outta you though because when you tell him it’s a prank he’s just like “.. oh, okay. i’m glad you’re feeling good, though.” with a cute small smile HAAHAH <3

iida: starts thwacking his hand in that chopping motion and he’s all flabbergasted like ???? has no genuine reason as to why you would say that, you seemed to be enjoying yourself the rest of the time. class rep takes off his glasses and cleans them like THAT COULD HELP HIM HEAR YOU BETTER OR COMPREHEND THE SITUATION LMFAOOOOOO. iida would gently hold your shoulders and ask you if everything is okay, like, did he… do something wrong? you burst out laughing in his face because he’s so serious and when you tell him it’s all a joke, the man’s glasses fog up in embarrassment. “do not play these games,” he says as he proceeds to grab a fresh pair of glasses off his wall. OKAY IIDA.

kirishima: you tell him from downstairs, yelling that you’re gonna head out soon. CUE HIS “what?! hey, babe—wait!” FROM THE TOP OF THE STEPS AND THE LOUD STOMPS OF HIS BIG ASS COMING DOWN. he’s like basically naked because he was in the process of changing before he heard you announce your leave LMAO. “why? what’s wrong, baby?” he’s so genuinely worried and confused, walking up to you with open arms. “don’t leave,” he’s POUTING. poor boy probably had the whole night planned out (movies, activities, snacks, hell—even your skincare regime he’ll do with you!). he wanted to do EVERYTHING. doesn’t find the prank very funny but sighs in relief. “don’t do that…” sharp-toothed lopsided grin <3

kamanari: i’m already dying at the thought of this man SCRABBLING to you from his bed to his door when you get up and announce you’re leaving. slides to you on his knees and wraps his arms around you. “BABE, WHY?” LMFAOOOO this dramatic mf I CAN’T. biggest puppy dog eyes. now see, i think he’d know about this prank but all reason flies out the window when his amazing and hot partner is threatening to leave his house for the night. all he can think about is HE CAN’T SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOU? it’s enough to make him beg at the camera that blatantly in his face (he doesn’t notice it).

sero: you two are chilling on the couch watching some trash television when you say you wanna go home early. then to your absolute horror, this man goes “okay, see you.” HELLOOOO???? but sero is snickering to himself because this man already knows what your ass is up to. he’s quite the actor because he deadpans at you with a “what?” when you stare at him like ???? LMAOOOOOO. but he knows he went too far when he says “i can call you an uber or something.” he doesn’t get to blink before his last sight is your body flying at him HAHAAH “i’m sorry! i’m sorry!!” but the two of you laugh so hard together. sigh, i love a man that can play along.

[rex-rambles]

➤ SEEING RED (AND ORANGE) | LANDO NORRIS

pairing: lando norris x soulmate!reader

summary: since lando turned eighteen, he has yet to figure out what his soulmate trait is, but he's pretty sure he has mastered the art of emotional intelligence, which is totally the same. right?

or: you can feel your soulmate's emotions. lando has no idea.

wc: 7.3 k

warnings: moments of angst and poor emotional management

➤ MASTERLIST

2017

Lando sits, in the middle of his living room couch, surrounded by all of his friends and family. This year had been magical, joining McLaren, becoming a reserve driver, so close to his dream he could almost taste it. And now, he was about to find his soulmate, and his entire life would be complete. 

He never could dream small, he thinks as the seconds tick down. He had this all planned out for who knows how long: he would win a world championship, have a giant family and a dog and a house in Monaco and England and maybe even one somewhere fun and tropical, and he would be the happiest, coolest person alive. His soulmate would be gorgeous and smart, much smarter than him, and run to him after every race, and-

"Five," They begin to count down for him, and Lando lets his fantasy slip away to brace for impact, arms stretched out in front of him to watch for any magical marks on his wrists. "Four." 

"Three," Lando whispers under his breath. His soulmate mark or trait would be something cool, not the stupid colour blindness one, or a hard-to-find one. "Two," 

"One." For a moment, the world is perfectly still. No one moves, no one breathes, and nothing appears on Lando's arms. No voice fills his head, no memories of past lives come flooding to him. He stands, ripping off his shirt in case it's a mark hidden someone, stripping down to his underwear as everyone laughs, and he waits. 

Mere seconds pass before the realization hits like a truck: Lando has no idea what his soulmate trait is, and it isn't obvious. "Maybe you have to write something on your arm?" Someone passes him a marker, and he frantically writes 'hello' on his forearm, and nothing appears. 

Disappointment has never felt so bitter. It's deep within him, spiralling around his chest in a way he'd never felt before, ceasing him up entirely. He didn't have a soulmate trait. Maybe, he didn't have a soulmate. Maybe, this was all stupid and pointless, and he was standing in his underwear in front of everyone. 

And then, just as he thinks he might cry, his heart very gently become warm, a slow building happiness that has Lando awkwardly smiling as he sniffs and wipes at his eyes. It's a calming notion, that comes over him next, like his heart is reminding him to take deep breathes, and he does. "So?" 

"Nothing," He says to the crowd. "Nothing changed." 

-

2023

"And you're alright with travelling?" Amanda asks over a mug of tea, steaming in the cool England air. "We've a winter house in the Alps and a summer house in Monaco, which with little ones is a big deal." 

"Travelling, if anything, would be a perk." You joke back over your own mug, hands clamped around it tightly. Why she insisted on sitting outside in the morning just after the rain, when the chill still hadn't quite left the air despite the spring weather, was beyond you. That being said, you weren't about to miss this opportunity because of the weather, or your own annoyance with the cold. This was your one chance to finally travel, to finally put all your hard work to use, even if it was chasing a billionaire's kids around. 

"Well, it's a highly stressful perk." Amanda continues, "And taking care of kids is a highly stressful job. Are you good at handling stress? Negative emotions?" 

You nod, your real answer stuck on your tongue. Bringing up soulmates during an interview wasn't exactly the smartest of ideas, considering the potential discrimination from employers who might not want to hire someone who has yet to find their soulmate. After all, soulmate tracking could lead you around the world, and above all, you can tell Amanda needs someone committed to her children and their needs. "May I be honest?" 

Amanda raises an eyebrow, mug paused just below her mouth. Based on the name scrawled on the inside of her wrist, and the fact you were interviewing to be an au pair, she had no trouble finding her soulmate.

But you? 

You were not so lucky. "I have to be good at handling emotions, because it's my soulmate trait. I feel whatever they feel, all day, every day." 

When you turned eighteen, nothing obvious had changed. Your family had stayed up to see the clock strike midnight, to see what soulmate trait you'd get, carrying on the tradition of colour-blindness, or maybe a timer, like your cousin had gotten. Instead, you saw no change, no secret mark appearing on your skin. 

You just felt disappointed, and somewhere in the universe, in yourself, the feeling of disappointment returned to you. 

It was always hard to explain that you could feel the same emotion as your soulmate, but you could. It was a separate thing, based in the middle of your chest, as if your heart could feel two things at once. It was always there, at the back of your consciousness, every feeling attached to a life you'd never seen.

Joy, you think, was the most pure and obvious emotion, something that bubbled up in you with a smile you could never shake. When your soulmate was happy, it was never just contentment, but a bright thing that made you daydream of how their grin must look, how wonderful their laugh must sound. 

Anger was the second most common. It came in short moments of frustration, or sometimes a deep, week-long affair of something blinding, a rage that seemed to consume them whole, and you by proxy. Sadness was a different sort of beast, originally all consuming. There had been long, long stretches of time where it felt as if all your soulmate could feel was anxiety, sadness, grief, and it was this period that made you seek out meditation methods, psychology courses and ways to help others. You spent enough energy sitting with your soulmate's emotions, keeping calm on your end to help them with theirs, that it just sort of became your whole life. 

They might have outgrown the sadness, but you never outgrew your ways of helping them.

You found joy in the world around you because you knew how it helped someone else feel. You pursued jobs and opportunities that allowed you to help others because you knew how to keep a level head, to hear everyone's story, to sit and mourn and love as if they were your own emotions.

Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest thing to get so wrapped up in the emotions of others instead of your own, but it was what your life had come to. Your soulmate had carved this life for you, despite the fact that you had no luck so far in finding them. The next step, then, was obviously branching out and travelling, which made this position, offered to you based on your emotional intelligence, a dream. "But besides your soulmate, how can you deal with other people's emotions, especially children's?" 

"I've spent so long studying people, their emotions and their body language in attempts to find my soulmate that it's now just sort of second nature. I can tell what people are feeling because I'm so used to feeling more than just one thing at one time." You answer, and she shakes her head slowly. 

"What an impossible thing to track. How would you know?" She sets her mug down and flags a waiter. The man stops by with the receipt, the timer on his wrist reading four months, six days, three hours. "See, a timer, that's useful. Emotions? Ridiculous, if you ask me." 

"I think I'll just know when I meet them." Or at least, that's how all your fantasies played out, just locking eyes across a crowded room and realizing that you could feel them, that it was always them, but so far, nothing of the sort had happened.  "I mean, I've experienced all of their emotions for the past five years, I ought to be able to pin that to a person." 

Amanda rises, putting on her coat, and you're quick to follow, your own half-full drink abandoned. "I would've hired you already without the soulmate trait, but I suppose that's the bonus that makes you so special, anyway." She pauses, then, and turns back to you. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your soulmate feeling currently?" 

"I think he's frustrated, but it's not the same as angry. Just sort of annoyed." You take a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm your own racing heart. If they were annoyed, the last thing they'd need to feel is your nerves added to it. And, after enough breaths, you can feel them start to relax, all on their own. 

-

“No soulmate trait?” Oscar asks, and Lando hums over a ridiculously large bowl of salad.

“It makes no sense!” He answers, stabbing at the lettuce in front of him with a vengeance. “Like not a mark, no colour changing shit, just…nothing. I think it’s one of those things where you have to touch people to know.” 

“So that’s why you’re so clingy,” Oscar answers sympathetically, and Lando takes a crouton and throws it at him. It had been six years, and he had yet to find his soulmate, to have that connection click into place with a simple touch. Sue him for being clingy when it was the only hope he had for finding true love.

Then, just as soon as Lando begins to feel genuinely resentful, a soft wave of calm comes over him. He had joked, once, that his heart and his brain were capable of feeling two different emotions at once. Sometimes, he was furious, but in his heart, he knew he would be fine. Othertimes, his heart was just so happy for no reason. No one really understood what he was talking about, but Lando didn't mind. He was rather proud of his emotional intelligence, being able to decipher what he was really feeling under the surface. He was maturing into a proper adult who could rationalize their thoughts and feelings, but then again, proper adults don't throw croutons in dining halls.

He takes a slow, deep breath, trying to match the beating of his heart, and after he exhales, he returns to his conversation. “Does your heart ever get happy when your brain is angry?" 

“What?” 

“Like I was pissed about the soulmate thing, and now I feel all calm. Like my heart knew I was being stupid.” It was like someone reminding him to breathe, to think of the better alternatives, like the fact that his soulmate was probably out there, just with a rare trait that would make it all the more worthwhile.

Oscar, unfazed by both the strange question and the crouton, thinks for a moment before speaking. “I think you’re just old enough to know not to be mad about things. Or you have other things to focus on.” 

“Maybe.” Years later, Lando would look back at this moment and bang his head into a table, but in the present, he continues to eat his salad and ponder why no one's investigated the psychology of the heart.

-

2024

"Micah? Is that what you're supposed to be doing?" Micah, who should be unpacking his things into the summer house in Monaco, has decided he will not be sorting his socks, and instead will be constructing the world's largest indoor racetrack around his bedroom floor. Never to be left alone, his younger sister Emily is perched in the middle, drooling over a little pink car. 

"I put 'em away, Nana." Micah says, jabbing his thumb in the direction of his suitcase, half shoved in a closet. Typically, children called their grandmothers Nana, but they had adopted the word for you, a sweet little thing you were terrified they'd outgrow. "See?" 

"Ah, yes, I see." You walk over to the suitcase, gently drumming your nails on the top. "How silly of me, this is perfectly unpacked as your mother requested." 

Micah, not quite yet understanding sarcasm, beams his gap-toothed smile. "Told you!" 

"But, what if you need to get an extra pair of shoes? Or sandals? They're stuck at the bottom." Emily gives up on her determination to eat the pink car and grabs part of the track, like a baby-sized Godzilla over the raceway. "And what if we, say, wanted to go to the beach after dinner?" 

Micah pauses at that, sitting up and squinting at his suitcase. "...I can just lay the suitcase down?" 

"And if you can lay your suitcase down, you can put your other clothes away too. Now come on, before dinner. Your cars will stay exactly where they are." Then, to grant him some mercy, you scoop up Emily from the floor and try to put the pieces of his track back in place. 

And then, your heart stops beating in your chest, fingers hovering over the little plastic track. 

Disguised for a moment of panic, you realize it's your soulmate's heart that's stopped, your whole body going cold. For a moment, a terrible awful moment, it feels as if the connection is broken, that there is no emotion to be felt at all, and before you can truly grasp what is happening, a joy greater than anything you've ever known washes over you. Scientifically, you know it must just be a rush of adrenaline, of endorphins and hormones, but god, this must be the most a human body can produce at once, rendering you entirely numb to anything but the excitement, the triumph, it can't compare. It's ecstasy, with a laugh you've never heard before ringing in your ears. 

It's a bright kind of sunshine that makes you dream of how your soulmate must be smiling, what they must be doing to become so happy, how much you wish you could be there to experience it with them. Then, as it begins to wane, it becomes tinted with every other emotion possible.

Sadness, grief, pain, fear, love. It's that last one, the love, that startles you the most, because you've never felt it on your soulmate's end before. You dream that this must be how it will feel when you finally meet, so different than any other emotion you've dealt with before. It's something pure and unadulerated, with no real sign. You just know it's love, and you have to sit on Micah's bed as you try to catch your breath at the feeling. 

It's the sort of mosaic of emotions that you think must embody a person whole. That everything your soulmate has ever felt has just been channelled back inside you, taking over where veins once were. Colours are brighter, the world slower, the pain softer. Emily reaches up to pat your cheeks, startling tears from your eyes that you hadn't realized had formed. 

Micah comes to stand beside you, a sock outstretched in his hand. "I'm sorry I didn't put them away." 

"Oh, sweetheart," You soothe softly, gently parting his hair away from his face. It's sad, you think, that people don't get to experience this in their everyday life. To know what it's like to feel a partner's joy, to know that when you reach out with your own happiness for them, it gets taken and amplified a hundred times over. "I'm not upset because of you. I'm happy." 

"Happy?" 

"Your mom told you what soulmate's are, right?" He nods along quickly, face lighting up. 

"Did you just meet yours?" He almost shouts, and while she must have explained some concepts, it's obvious he doesn't understand how the whole thing quite works yet, but he has plenty of time to learn.

"My soulmate is really, really happy about something, and I'm so happy for them." It makes it all worth it, you think.

Becoming so devoted to learn about the brain and emotions was already worth it, already a passion, but feeling this, greater than any emotion you've ever felt, it's indescribable. It's something you doubt you ever could forget, the power of their excitement feeling as if it might never fade.

"But you don't know what they're happy about." Micah points out, returning to the volcano that is his suitcase. 

"I don't need to." You answer honestly. "Joy should be shared at any time, for any reason. I don't need to know the fine details." And with that, you rise, intent on finding Emily's sandals somewhere in her nursery. "And for that reason, we should go and celebrate too. We can get ice cream after dinner." 

Micah, not needing much convincing, quickly joins your side. "I like your soulmate. He should be happy more often." 

"Yes," You answer, wishing you could bottle this emotion and keep it forever, "He should." 

-

Lando knew his first win would be big, but it was the sort of dream that didn't feel real, even as he was thrown into the crowd, even as he put the trophy over his head, even as he hugged his mom, even as the night waned and the club slowed and he, inevitably, found himself back in his hotel room. 

He couldn't help it. It was just this constant rush of everything all at once, the excitement, the pride, the terrifying realization that life continues on. There will be more races that he might win, and he finds himself more determined than ever to win them. It's the delight that he did it, he finally did it, and the sadness that comes with knowing it took him so long. His younger self would be so proud, and the thought only adds more confusing emotions into the mix. Overall, however, is how much he loves this sport, despite all the pain that does come with it. This was what he was always meant to be doing. 

His heart isn't helping either. The happiness from it just sort of comes in waves, not connected to his thoughts or his words at all. It's like his heart, every so often, remembers that he has something to be so happy about, radiating a warmth that Lando's never felt before. He's never been this happy in his life, like he's perfectly whole, even with his missing piece, a small cloud he'd ignored hanging over him the entire day. 

He never could dream small, but when he had his first win, he wanted a soulmate to share it with. That being said, he's not sure it really matters now. This moment, soulmate or not, is just perfect. He can share plenty of wins with them in the future, anyway. For right now, there's just him and his heart, gently beating and echoing warmth, joy, delight, triumph, whatever you want to call it. 

Lando is very happy that his heart is happy, he decides as he finally goes to bed. 

It should feel like that more often.

-

2025

Fourth wasn't bad, Lando could tell his heart was trying to tell him, but he didn't want to listen. 

He had fucked up, plain and simple, all the way back to starting tenth like he was a fucking rookie again, and sure, he had made his way back to fourth. It was respectable, really. He made a good recovery, he was fine, but he was more furious than he had been in a long time, because this season showed that he should know better. 

He was leading the championship, for god's sake, and now he was below Oscar when he could've kept his title. It was an anger that led, rather quickly, into self-deprecation. He had failed, of course. He could have done better, could have tried harder, could have been better. He didn't have the mindset, people kept saying. What mindset? What did Oscar have that he didn't?

He had cried and fought and struggled to get here now, and he fucked up. In qualifying, like a rookie, like someone who should know better. Fourth, a burn only worsened with the thought of the meagre points he'd get. Fourth. 

Needing something to lash out against, Lando picks up his water bottle from beside him in the driver room and winds up, eyes set on the wall across from him, when his heart does what it does best, and soothes him. It wasn't telling him that fourth was okay, he finds, but rather a strange sort of sympathy that he had a right to be mad. 

It was understanding of his pain, sending soft waves of calm, a tune stuck in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite understand. He should be mad, the water bottle launched across the room, but it stayed in his hand as his heart unravelled the worst parts of him. Anger, rage, was a good, short release, but it didn't get to the heart of the problem. He needed to take a deep breath, his lungs working of their own accord as he let his arm fall, dangling uselessly at his side. 

Fourth. 

Next race would be better. Next race, he'd lock in, he'd figure out whatever hiccup had cost him podium, had lost him first. He would do better, and he would be better, and that would be that.

Even still, as he finishes up for the night, he finds a sadness coming from his heart, an emotion he didn't know would hurt as much as it did. 

-

The anger and joy, this year, kept coming in rounding bouts. Excitement one weekend, failure the next, something that could only be akin to gambling addiction, some sort of sports fan, or someone going through just a rough couple of months. Emily seems as attuned to your soulmate as you are, wailing the moment the anger occurs, rearing its ugly head, and you find yourself calming two souls at once. 

You bounce Emily in your arms, a hefty task now that she's four, humming a soft lullaby as you try to get your soulmate to take deep breaths, take apart their anger. Sorting through emotions was a tall task, even this many years in, but there were so many layers to the sadness and anger that it was just...hurtful. 

A pain you couldn't fathom. Emily soothes as your soulmate does, falling back asleep as you get her tucked into bed, your soulmate's resentment cascading away to just a tired, dull sort of thing. There's a hint of happiness, somewhere at the edges, and that's all you need to let go, to focus back on your own life. 

You don't know how often you'd done that, taken time to soothe someone who never did the same. Your own anger, sadness, what have you, never seemed to be noticed. There was never a comforting, deep breath, a calm happiness to comfort you, just whatever they were feeling, like they couldn't care about helping yours. 

You had devoted your life to the emotions of others, you realize as you peer into Micah's room to find him asleep, peacefully curled up under his blankets. You'd raised him for the past two years, taught him how to exist and grow and act, same as Emily, sleeping peacefully behind you. They were children who needed the guidance, the extra set of hands, but your soulmate was grown. 

So how could they not handle it? You took extra courses, found a career path out of it, but they just seemed to live life, going through the motions with little regard for what all the frustration might do to someone else's daily life. That spike, that explosion of joy held so fondly in your memories now only returned in shorter bouts, like a drug slipping away from someone, and you focus on tidying up the last of the toys scattered around the hall to distract yourself. 

You knew all the emotion tactics to calm yourself, anyway. 

So why would you need someone else? 

-

Lando's heart has been acting up lately, following him through Miami's second place, and into Imola's second place, and now Monaco. 

It just hadn't been as happy as it could've been, as calming as it could've been, like every time Lando experienced a bump, it got less and less willing to pick up the pieces, and Lando understood. Being his heart was a big task, but it was sort of his heart. He needed it, and its strange intelligence. 

The worst part was people started noticing it, too. Not his heart, exactly, but just that as much as he was happy, it wasn't to his core. He had tried numerous remedies, chocolates, therapies, everything, including now going for runs at random hours of the day, currently on a hike in the few hours of dawn just outside of Monaco. 

But the farther he ran, the more up this hillside he went, the further his heart sank inside him, until he could only describe it as weeping.

Reaching the top, he begins to think he might be losing his mind when he begins to hear it crying, too, only to stumble across a real person, crying before him, and his heart tugs in his chest so hard he thinks it might fall out. 

-

Burnout happens far too fast to really understand it, even coming from someone who dedicated their life to understanding people's emotions.

It was hard to always be happy, to always be in tune with other people's emotions, but it was all that you knew. You were supposed to be the happy one, the helpful one, but it was hard to always be happy and always be helpful when it was all coming to an end anyway. Emily and Micah were grown, old enough to have opinions and dreams that far outshone your own, because at some point, children outgrow nannies. This would be your last year full-time, Amanda had broken to you a week or so ago. 

She wanted you around for help with Emily, at least until she was five, but after that, they were going to try functioning as a whole, with you there if they needed extra support. And it wasn't leaving the family, leaving this job, that was the hard part. You were more than understanding, after all. 

The hard part was the realization that nothing was meant to last. You weren't meant to always be there, supporting other people, raising children and sending peace out into the world. At some point, you needed to stop projecting emotions and needed to start feeling them, stunted for so long in the name of love. 

You didn't blame your soulmate, really, but it was time you started living, outside of them, outside of nannying, and that meant doing things for you, like waking early, finding a nice hiking trail, and just going. You walked until your feet grew sore, until a bench looked promising, until your emotions caught back up, and so did your soulmate's. 

Soft and on edge, a sadness that wasn't anything too deep, but just persistent. Instinctively, you take a breath, and it all falls apart. 

Every emotion you've been taught to suppress, to help others navigate through, every joyful moment not shared, every painful moment you've taken on as a burden comes out in a wail that you can't control.

It was a gift to feel your soulmate's emotions, but you shouldn't have to feel so obliged to help them through every bout of sadness and anger, exhaustion piled up from years of your own neglect.

You had been given so much joy in this life, watching a Monaco sunrise from the clifftop, but you can't help the way it's all been tainted by experience.

After all, there are no tips or courses on how to heal a broken heart, desperately trying to get out of your ribcage.

-

Lando's heart keeps tugging him toward the person currently sobbing on a bench, and he has no idea what to do about it. He's emotionally intelligent, he tries to reason with himself. If someone is in distress, like they're lost, he can help! Or, he might be ruining a moment that a stranger needs alone, but his heart keeps weeping and the sadness keeps spreading until finally, Lando takes a few brave steps forward before coming to kneel before the person on the bench. "Hey," He says, with the awkwardness of a man thrust into a truly new situation, "Don't cry." 

You blink at him owlishly before covering your face with another sob. 

Great start. "I mean, crying's okay!" He says, quickly coming to sit beside you, leaving enough space not to crowd you. "It releases stuff for you. But like, if you're crying about a reason, I can...help." 

"Oxytocin and endorphins," You sniff, a sentence that fully catches him off guard, but the weeping in his heart ebbs way for...annoyance? "Crying releases oxytocin and endorphins, they help promote-" You uncover your face to look at him, and it's just heartbreaking, truly. He doesn't remember the last time he saw someone this upset besides his own reflection in the mirror. "Helps promote well-being." 

"Maybe I should cry more often," Lando jokes softly, and happiness slips into his heart before disappearing again. His heart normally was so good at calming him, so why was it so difficult to calm other people? "But I mean it. I get that I'm a stranger, but if something's wrong, I can help." Then, because he knows better, "Or I can try?" 

You don't answer him immediately, turning to look out at the sunrise. It's pretty, he thinks. Calming. You hiccup beside him, and Lando glances over to see your bottom lip tremble with another wave of unshed tears, and his body reacts before he can. 

He takes a big, deep breath. The kind his heart is always telling him to take. One deep breath in, one deep breath out. "You can breathe like that, too. It helps." 

"It triggers the relaxation response." You answer through stuttered breath, somehow far more informed on emotions and their controls than he is. You must be a doctor or something, he thinks. Maybe one of those wellness coaches. Either way, you start breathing alongside him, in perfect unison.

"My heart always helps me breathe." Lando says, trying to make conversation, and you give him a strange look as his heart echoes confusion. "I don't know how to describe it, but my heart has its own emotions. And when I get upset, god knows it's too often, it reminds me to be calm, and breathe. Like this-" He takes in a deep breath, and releases it.

Then you take a deep breath in, and release it, and his heart mimics the action. You watch him intently, repeating the action a few times, until Lando realizes his heart is in sync with you. 

The breathing, the confusion, the weeping. 

A strange mix of emotions floods his heart seconds before he makes the connection, too. 

"You can feel me?" You ask softly, "My breathing?" 

The world sort of comes to an end on a park bench in Monaco, Lando realizes, because he can feel you breathing. When your eyebrows raise, he feels the shock deep in his heart, and his mind supplements that his soulmate trait must be feeling your emotions, and like the true idiot he is, this whole time he just thought it was his heart feeling things. 

God, it's been eight years. Eight years you've been feeling every emotion and trying to help him out, and Lando never knew. He'd never got to help you with your emotions, anyway. You've just had to suffer through all his anger, all his sadness, and he slowly lowers his head into his hands, truly unable to come to terms with what you're saying, what he's feeling, what you're feeling. 

He's been blind. Worse than that, he's been ignorant and honestly almost manipulative. All those deep breaths were you having to take the time to breath with him. All those moments his heart was sad, for no reason, or happy, for no reason, it was you living a life that he was unaware of. Every secret emotion he let out, that only he and the walls of his room shared, you knew.

You knew all the deepest, darkest parts of him, and he thought you were his heart.

It's a new sort of grief that wells up inside him, that is immediately replaced with action. This was not his time to mourn, but yours. He snaps back up, and you're still in the same, curled up position, looking at him in awe, and without much ceremony, Lando reaches over to pull you to his chest, the soulmate connection snapping in place as he gently cradles the back of your head into his shoulder. "Jesus fucking christ," He breathes out, "I thought you were my heart." 

You don't answer him, but he waits to expect the anger, the confusion, the sadness, but all he can feel is something soft and small radiating from you that he thinks might be love, and he begins to cry for it. 

He's sure that if there are any other unfortunate hikers on this trail, they'll stumble across a strange scene of two strangers hugging each other and crying, but Lando has seen stranger in Monaco. Besides, he can't care much about anything besides the soulmate in his arms, and all the ways he needs to make it up to you. From now on, his emotions take a back seat, and he'll help calm you, keep you happy. He wants to memorize every detail of your face, your smile, your laugh. Firstly, he thinks, he should probably get your number and your name.

"How do you know how to handle it?" Lando finds himself asking as he lets you pull away, wiping at your eyes. "Oxy-cotton or whatever, how could you..." 

"I studied it." You answer quietly, "For you." 

"For...for me?" You nod, and Lando's body shakes with unshed tears. 

"You experience everything so vividly. I just wanted to help." You've felt how hard he's been on himself, how angry, and you've been there every step of the way, trying to help. You studied how to help him, for him specifically, and there's nothing he could ever do to make up for it. You reach up to wipe away the tears as they fall, studying his face. "Seems like I could have taught myself a thing or two." 

"You're perfect," He says, voice cracking as he looks down at you. "I'm an idiot." 

Lando never expected to meet you here. He always thought he'd be in some strange corner of the world, where he'd lock eyes across a crowded room and just know, but instead, you're here, in Monaco, a gift from the universe because he never would have been able to find you otherwise. "Your words," You answer with a sniff. "Not mine." 

"Stop being so good at this," Lando says, rubbing his hands over his face. "I need to be the one helping you, not the other way around." He opens his fingers to peer at you through them. 

"You just being here helps." You shove his shoulder gently as you speak. "But you really didn't consider once that your heart having emotions was weird?" 

"Thought I was emotionally intelligent. Like...my heart was also a brain." He watches you suppress a laugh and he hides behind his hands again. "Shut up! I know, I know, I have a lot of work to do." 

And for a moment, you just look at each other, and then that happiness comes spiking back up, and you're slumping into his side as you laugh, a deep thing that has Lando laughing too, like some old joke you've known forever. 

His soulmate. You're his soulmate, and he can feel your emotions, and while that is genuinely probably the worst soulmate trait Lando has ever heard of, it's a trait. He has a soulmate, and he is an idiot, but as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and watches the Monaco sunrise, he realizes he has all the time in the world to make up for it. "I'm Lando, by the way." 

-

-

-

Every time you look at Lando, you feel a rush of emotions that you now know he feels too. Maybe that's why he turns to flash you a grin, just as bright as you knew it would be. Or, maybe, it's because it's your first time in the paddock, the first time Lando gets to reveal you to the world, the fact that you're real. 

You can't really fathom how he never knew he could feel another person's emotions, and with a soft groan, he leans into your side. "You're never going to let that go, are you?" 

The past months you've spent together, Lando has been determined to get to know your emotions. Every little thing you go through, you get a text, a random delivery at your door, him peering around the corner into the living room with a raised eyebrow as you angrily try to put together Ikea furniture. Nearing the end of your contract with Amanda, and trying to find your new way in life, Lando insisted you move in with him, and that he would be your emotionally intelligent student. It was a lot of big steps to take, but looking at him now, you're more than happy to take them. 

"I thought you couldn't read minds," Lando's teammate Oscar says, and Lando's quick to shake his head. 

"I told you, we can feel each other's emotions," He says, arm wrapping around your waist. "For example, I can tell that right now, they are madly in love with me." 

He leans in to kiss you, and you gently shove his face away with your hand, matching grins plastered over your faces. You were, honestly. He was a strange, strange being who defied the emotional courses you took, but it made sense. You were a rock when he was a bouncy ball - hyper and all over the place, but he was teaching you to relax, to let go, to let him go. He insisted that he didn't need your help now that he knew how much brainpower it took up, but that didn't stop you from slipping into old ways, reminding him to breathe no matter where in the world you were, calming him from a distance.

Micah makes a fake gagging sound from beside you, though he's also grinning ear to ear. Lando had given the entire family paddock passes, mostly as a gesture of goodwill, but also so that he could have an excuse to have you here for a race.  "Be nice, Micah." You say, ruffling his hair. 

"Yeah, Micah." Emily quotes, reaching for your hand. She was still quite shy around Lando, whose energy was not always appreciated. You pick her up, an old habit that will die hard, even as she's no longer a toddler, but you hold her on your hip as you hum one of her old lullabies to help ease the stress. 

Beside you, Lando absent-mindedly hums along, and you stop your own noise to stare at him. He was always full of surprises, really, somehow knowing a song that must have slipped through the cracks of your emotions. Well, all of him was a surprise, being an F1 driver more famous than you had ever expected your soulmate to be. 

To Lando's surprise, you existed. It was something to get used to, a shame that clung to him, but he was growing out of it. He wanted to know every little detail, from favourite colours to where you grew up to where you wanted to go. You weren't sure yet, really. You wanted to help people, but you needed your own time and space with your emotions, and Lando was more than willing to help grant you that.

The media, unfortunately, had also wanted to know every little detail, intent on painting you as some young mom before it came out that you were a nanny, which was somehow better and worse. People had plenty of things to say, but that didn't really matter when Lando was at your side, intent on making Emily smile and putting up with Micah's antics, who had already scored a free hat, shirt, and the fuzzy part of a boom mic from somewhere. "Who do you think is going to win the race?" Lando asks the two, who both blink back at him. "Come on, it's me, right?" 

"Or is it going to be Oscar?" You ask, the other man beside you laughing. 

"Oscar." Emily announces rather quickly. "He can win." 

Both Lando and Oscar wear matching expressions of confusion, but Oscar's quickly morphs into a grin as he does a little bow. "Thank you, I'm happy to have your support." 

"Oh, come on!" Lando says, now desperately turning to Micah. "You want me to win, right? British boy to British boy." 

Micah looks from Lando slowly to Oscar, who offers two thumbs up. "I want...Oscar?" 

"Oh, this is just not fair!" Annoyance stirs in Lando, but dissipates when he looks at you. "You're supposed to teach them better than this." 

"Oscar wins so you can stay home," Emily says, playing with her paddock pass. "You make Nana happy." 

Lando pauses, and you can feel his heart swell with love, and with little regard for the cameras everywhere, he buries his face into the side of your neck as he blushes. "Get off Nana!" Micah says, tugging at Lando's shirt. 

"Nope," Lando says into your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you tight. "S' my heart now." 

"Always was yours," You answer with a kiss to his temple, and you can feel Lando melt both against you and in your heart. "Now go win a race, yeah?" 

Lando peels back with that smile that makes your heart do things, and you can tell he knows exactly what you're feeling when that grin just grows. "Thought I was supposed to stay home to keep you happy?" 

"You've got the rest of your life for that." With a genuine sadness you can feel in your veins, Lando finally parts, sneaking another kiss before he's off, and you find yourself that much more attuned to his emotions when he's gone. You can feel the anxiety and the stress as he prepares, the excitement as the race starts up, and the inevitable growing anger and fear as he fights for pole. Second, in your mind, was fantastic, but Lando never knew how to dream small. 

Taking a deep breath, slowly in and out, you wait for Lando's heart to sync with yours, and you can feel him relax just the smallest bit, granted a moment in a corner to overtake Max, and you scream so loudly with excitement that Emily and Micah cover their ears. Lando echoes back that joy and excitement, keeping pace until the race ends. You don't get to see him when he pulls up to the parc ferme, still stuck wrangling the young children, but you can feel nothing but pure joy all the way until he's up on that podium, trophy high above his head as he scans the crowd. He belonged up there, you think, with this kind of ecstatic delight taking over him. That moment filled with joy and love, all those years ago, had been his first win. 

And yet, here, now, that memory was dull in comparison. 

Because when Lando scans the crowd, and finally locks eyes with you, you feel a burst of nothing but pure love.

It's a feeling that never goes away. 

a/n: i saw this concept for a soulmate trait and just had to do something with it!! i honestly want to write so much more between these two

[mggslover]

SWEETER THAN DREAMS — spencer reid

In which Spencer helps you make your wet dream come true.

genre smut (18+) cw established relationship, consensual somnophilia, groping, grinding, male masturbation, kinda perv!spence, tit play, oral (f receiving), p in v wc 3,2k a/n this turned out a lot sweeter and cuter than i expected it to be (still hot though) (hopefully) let me know if you enjoyed it! kinkfest: somnophilia

Spencer wasn’t made for summer weather. He hated how stuffy and thick the air felt. How it seemed to cling onto him, warming his skin like his sweater vests used to do during winter. 

Getting through the day was difficult enough, but the nights? Those were horrendous. 

You had bought him a cooling pillow, knowing how much he struggled in bed. In theory, it should work. They were made of a phase changing material, similar to the ones NASA invented for the temperature fluctuations of astronauts, but it seemed like the one you bought was a total scam. Or maybe he was so hot that he burned right through the fabric. 

He turned his pillow over for the millionth time that night. He kept still as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and listening to the peaceful sounds of your sleeping in an attempt to find rest again. 

For a minute, it seemed to work. He even closed his eyes, ready to drift off, but then his eyes shot open when he heard a small noise coming from you.

He tilted his head on the pillow, eyes adjusting to the dark room as your figure slowly materialized. 

“You okay?” He whispered, carefully reaching out to brush a sticky strand of hair from your forehead. 

You responded with another soft whine, followed by a small moan.

Spencer sat up straighter, slightly hovering over your form. “Having a nightmare, baby?”

He leaned in to press a kiss to your face, and that’s when he noticed it: you were burning up. You hadn’t mentioned being bothered by the heat before, probably seeing no use to it after his endless complaints. His stomach churned in guilt. 

“Let’s get these blankets off of you, okay? It’ll help,” he speaks to you, although he doubted you heard him. 

Carefully, so as not to disturb you, he pulls the thick material away. His hand stops mid-motion, swallowing when he reveals your naked upper body. It’s then that he notices your top and pajama pants are thrown in a heap on the floor, probably having taken them off in the middle of the night. 

Enticed by curiosity, he pulls the blanket further down, and indeed, he finds you to be completely naked. The curve of your ass and the length of your legs are bare, covered only in a light layer of sweat. 

For a moment he doesn’t know what to do. He just takes you in, counting every freckle on your skin. It’s not the first time he’s seen you naked, far from it, but he usually sees you naked when having sex. And with sex comes him being too horny to take his time. Sure, he worships you and pays attention to your body. But it’s not like this. Now he has all the time in the world to just look at you. 

Or, well, that was his plan before his cock started stirring in his pants. 

Morning wood isn’t a rare occasion for Spencer. When he’s on his own, he’s a restless sleeper. It’s inevitable that all his moving and turning around leads to the stimulation of rubbing himself against the mattress. Not forgetting to mention the dreams of you. When he’s with you, though, there are other things plaguing him, like the warmth of your body, the sweet scent of your hair. He’s pulled in like a moth to the flame, and it’s only natural that his length stiffens when it’s pressed against the plush curve of your ass.

He’d often wake with your plump lips wrapped around his cock. Tongue swirling around the head before pulling back with a giggle. It was his favorite way to wake up, but he had never returned the favor. You’re so lucky, you know that? I spoil you too much, you had commented after one of your morning sessions. Your tone was playful, but he could tell there was a hidden annoyance. 

It’s not like he didn’t want to return the favor. Jesus, there was nothing he wanted to do more than to wake you by making you come all over his tongue. His cock, even. But his mornings were either a rush to get to Quantico, or he was so fast asleep in your arms that you awoke before him. 

But a situation like this has never occurred. Maybe he could—

Another small sound left your lips. “Spence.”

No. 

You having a nightmare is not the moment.

Still, he could touch himself. Right?

There was not a lot of time to ponder over the decision, his hand already having made its way under his loose pajama pants, gripping his shaft tightly. 

He hissed at the touch, his cock feeling hot and heavy in his fist as he tightened his hold around himself. 

His head fell back onto the pillow, tilting his face to take you in. Your lips parted as you breathed softly (a sound Spencer couldn’t hear because of how hard his heart was beating in his chest), your chest rose and fell in the same gentle manner, and Spencer’s gaze fell to your breasts. He let out a grunt, seeing how your nipples stood perfectly peaked despite the warmth of the room. 

With slow strokes, Spencer moved his hand along his length. All the tension and frustrations of the day melted away under his fingertips as he felt himself sink deeper into the mattress.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he muttered to the silence, swiping his thumb over his slit, coating the digit in precum. 

He grew into a rhythm, intently watching you while pumping his cock. Every time you moaned or let out a small whine, he groaned in response, closing his eyes and imagining your moans were ones out of pleasure. It felt like he was dreaming, a dream so real he could almost reach out and touch it. But the only person who was dreaming was you. 

Whatever fantasies were playing in your head, they led you closer to Spencer. He actually shuddered when the bare skin of your back made contact with the expanse of his chest. You hummed, wiggling your ass against his thighs and nudging further into him. Spencer gasped, fisting his hands to keep himself from pulling you flush against where he needed you most. He softly whined, cock aching in desperation now that he had removed his hand. A mirrored sound came from you, and he noticed the frown on your face and the pout on your lips. 

You always wanted to be held, and your body instantly notices when he doesn’t have his arms wrapped around you. In no universe would he be able to deny your needs, so with a small sigh — one that started as resignation but he breathed out in content — he pulled you in. A sweet hum left your chest as he pressed a kiss to your collarbone. 

Momentarily, he believed that he could forget about his situation. But you kept making those sweet, little sounds and rolling your hips into him.

“Baby,” he cried against your neck. “Can’t resist myself when you do that.”

He nipped at the curve of your neck, palm splayed flat across your stomach as he moved his thumb in soothing circles.

You wiggled in his grasp, legs moving around until you locked them around the covers. It was then that he noticed that your restlessness wasn’t a result of the heat, nor a result of needing his closeness, but a move you made out of pure desire. 

With your thighs wrapped around the sheets, you start grinding your pussy. Moans tumbled from your lips each time you rubbed your swollen clit against the fresh cotton.

Spencer watched, slack-jawed, as you got yourself off right in front of him.

“Mhm, Spence—“

His brain finally caught up, and he let out a deep sound of longing, tightening his hold around you. 

His hand trailed up from your stomach to your breast, firmly squeezing the skin. “My sweet girl, is this what you wanted?”

He watched the way you bucked your hips. A shiny, wet spot has formed on the cloth between your thighs. 

Spencer tested the waters, twisting your nipple with his thumb and pointer finger, enticing you to sweetly moan his name.

“That’s right,” he hummed, attaching his pink lips to your neck. “It’s me. Even in your dreams you know that it’s only me who can make you feel this good.”

Spencer rasps his light stubble against you as his kisses make their way down the slope of your neck. He darts his tongue out at your sensitive spots, applying a wet pressure and heightening your senses by blowing gently on the skin. 

You whined, arching your back into him. It was so easy to turn you around, pin you down on your stomach, and slide his throbbing cock into your warmth. But then he’d make the situation about him again, and today was all about pleasing you.

The bed creaked underneath you as Spencer hovered on top of you, placing a knee on each side of your body. He unlocked your legs that were wrapped tightly around the covers, groaning loudly seeing how your pussy glimmered in your wetness. It had dripped down your inner thighs, creating a reflection in the dark room, guiding Spencer precisely to where you needed him most.

Carefully — so not to wake you — he changed positions, lowering himself on his stomach in between your thighs while placing your legs on top of his shoulders. Your body easily obeyed, feeling light in his arms as he held you by your hips and scooted you forward.

He licked his lips, fighting the urge to attach them to your pussy and not stop until you’ve come on his tongue. Twice.

Instead, he diligently trailed a finger over your folds. He watches you clench around nothing, lifting your hips in search of more. 

“Not yet, angel,” he teased. “Let’s warm you up first.”

His words were ironic due to the fact that it was the heat that had gotten you to this point. 

Spencer traced his lips over your inner thighs, mapping out a road and marking his favorite locations by leaving red and purple bites, until he eventually reached his destination.

“Jesus, baby,” he muttered as he spread your folds open with his pointer fingers, revealing your aching cunt. Your clit stood swollen, begging for attention, and your labia looked just as puffy from your earlier ministrations against the blanket. 

Driven by desire, Spencer stuck his tongue out and firmly lapped your clit. You twisted in the sheets, legs pulling up and a whine leaving your mouth.

“It’s okay,” Spencer cooed, placing a soft kiss on the bud. You moaned at that, a sweet, gentle sound, and he repeated the action until your body relaxed under his touch. Spencer drew lazy circles on your hips as his lips kissed you all over, coating his chin in your wetness as you got more and more excited.

Then, he tried again: tongue flicking out to tease your clit. This time a little whimper falls from your throat, and you keep your legs spread open. Spencer hums in satisfaction, circling the nub once more before closing his lips around it, gently sucking. 

There was no sweeter sound than the moans you made. No sweeter taste than the honey that dripped out of your needy hole. With a groan, Spencer curved his knee on the mattress, the other leg still lying flat as he found himself in the perfect position to get off: his cock rubbing against the sheets every time he pulled himself up to drag his tongue over your folds.

“Spencer,” you murmur, your feet locking over his back.

He looked up at your face with hooded eyes, catching the fluttering of your eyelashes. You were waking up.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he spoke ever so softly, as if he wasn’t ravishing your cunt just a second before.

Little by little, you gained consciousness. You blinked. Once. Then twice. And then your lips curved up in the most lovable smile Spencer had ever seen. 

“Good morning to me,” you breathed out in a pleased tone.

Spencer laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Good morning, angel.”

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” you groan playfully, your hands tangling into his brown locks and pulling him in as you lift your hips.

“Not gonna,” he whispered, his mouth finding your pussy again.

A warm sensation spreads through your body, the feeling igniting sparks in the places you’re most sensitive. Spencer was so, so good at this, and with your mind still feeling sleepy, there was nothing to overthink. You could just lie down, accept the pleasure, give yourself over to the feeling, and let go.

Your orgasm doesn’t come in one smooth, long wave but in several shakes of your body, each one pulling you under more. Your toes curl around his back, the back of your head presses into the pillow underneath you, and cries of his name leave your lips as you grab fistfuls of his hair. 

“Oh, that was so nice,” you giggle as you catch your breath.

Spencer returns your smile, sitting up on his knees and carefully taking your shaking legs off of his shoulders. Looking at his frame, you catch the length of his cock that’s proudly standing up. His tip shines an angry red, making you imagine how long he’s waited to take you.

With a firm grip, Spencer bends your knees and presses your legs toward your chest. The curve of your ass is slightly lifted off the mattress, and your pussy is on full display as your boyfriend hovers over you. 

“Not done with you yet,” he announces and takes hold of his cock before rubbing the thick head over your folds.

With your cunt still soaking wet, it didn’t surprise you when he accidentally slipped in.

“Oh, angel,” Spencer whined. He folded you double by pressing his hands harder on your knees, giving him access to smoothly thrust into you. 

In an instant, you had your hands on his face, pulling him in and roughly meeting his lips. Spencer didn’t waste any time, invading your mouth with his tongue, quickly dominating yours. Eagerly you returned the kiss. It was sloppy, not only the kiss, but the whole occurrence. Your whines matched the wet slaps of skin against skin, the rustling of the sheets sounded just as soft as the moans that tumbled from his lips, and the creaking of the bed frame added as a background noise to the melody that you created.

He slightly pulls back, his mouth attaching to your neck before a disappointed groan can leave your lips. 

His hot breath tickles your ear. “What did you dream of?” 

In hazy flashes, the memories in your mind returned, showing pictures of dreams where Spencer’s body was entangled with yours. “You.”

Spencer moaned, muffling his own longing sound by grazing his teeth against your ear. “And what did I do?”

Apparently it was possible to get more turned on than you already were. 

“You… hmpf… you woke me up like this. With your mouth on me.”

His eyes searched for yours, hazel irises turned dark. “Yeah?”

You nod your head into the pillow. “And then you fucked me,” you recalled, letting your nails roam over his back. “Fucked me so deep, Spence.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out, and you could feel his cock twitch inside of you. He swallowed, leaning back and adjusting your legs so that they were wrapped around his torso. Then he leaned back in, his cock sinking into you.

“Like this?”

A sharp cry escaped your throat, feeling Spencer fill you up to the hilt. His hot body pressed against yours, your soft breasts embracing his solid chest. 

“Y-yeah, like that. Fuck, that feels good.”  

His thrusts are minimal. He wants to stay inside of you. Can’t even handle the idea of pulling his hips back before he dives back in. Instead, he grinds himself into you, rubbing that sweet spot inside of your pussy over and over again. 

“I touched myself to you,” he admitted sheepishly, eyes locked onto yours as his curls fell over your face. 

“You just— you looked so beautiful. You look so beautiful,” he corrects. “Couldn’t help myself.”

It was easy to picture: his large hand wrapped around his cock, thumb stroking the head in the way he likes so much. Hips bucking into the air. His teeth biting down on his bottom lip, turned pink and plump, trying to swallow his sounds of pleasure. Next time you’ll pretend to be asleep just so you can catch a glimpse of that.

“Did you know you moaned my name?” He asked in a groan, heart fluttering at the memory. 

“Studies proved that dreams show a subconscious reflection of how you feel about a person.” He pressed his forehead to yours, looking at you in full awe. “Means so much to me, angel. That you think so well of me.”

“You are good, Spence,” you affirm. Tears pricked in your eyes because of the intimacy. “You are so good to me.” 

He nodded, believing you, and then locked his lips with yours. You clenched around him in response, resulting in him pounding into you faster. He reached for your hands, intertwining your fingers, and then placed them above your hand, keeping the both of you grounded as you got lost in the heat of the moment.

At some point you had lost your ability to kiss him back, your lips too busy singing a melody of moans. That didn’t stop Spencer from kissing you, though. He had kissed the side of your mouth, his kisses then trailing to your chin and eventually ghosting over your neck. You felt him everywhere. He had enveloped all your senses, and besides that, your mind was fully consumed by him and the growing heat that flamed deep in your core.

Your nails dug into his skin, creating crescent moon indents as a reminder of tonight. 

“Coming,” you gasped. You arched into his grasp, feeling like you were levitating as your orgasm washed over you. 

Your vision was hazy, but you could make out the way Spencer’s mouth opened, the way his eyebrows scrunched. Your hearing was muffled, but you could understand his cries of your name. Your body felt numb, but you could feel his warm release filling you up. 

Spencer’s legs gave out, and he gently let his head fall onto your chest, covering you up with his messy, sweaty curls. 

You detached your fingers from his, wiggling them around to relax them from his tight grasp. When you got some feeling back in them, you used the back of your hand to gently caress his face. 

“Should’ve returned the favor sooner,” he murmured, placing a kiss to the side of your breast.

You let out a breathy chuckle. “Don’t worry about it. This really made up for it.”

He tilted his head to look up at you, his hair tickling your chest. “Oh, we’re not done yet, angel. Just catching my breath.”

[yoiisa]

wbk reacting to you getting beaten up by a rival gang .𖥔 ݁ ˖

w/ SUO HAYATO, KIRYU MITSUKI, AND KAJI REN

part 2 with Sakura, Togame, and Uryu is here!

Tags: Descriptions of wounds (nothing too graphic, just mentions of blood and bruises), angst, hurt/comfort!

SUO HAYATO ⋆˙⟡

He should’ve seen this coming.

He’s carrying you on his back, his heart battering against his ribcage as you lie slumped over his back.

He’d been at home, completely ready for bed. Just before he tucked himself in though, he got a panicked phone call from Nirei, the blonde boy’s voice high pitched and frantic.

“Suo, come quick! [name] . . . she’s hurt really bad!”

He’d rushed out of his house, not even bothering to change or put on shoes. When he’d gotten to the location Nirei sent him, he found you hunched over on yourself, sitting on a bench. Nirei was sitting next to you, his jacket on your shoulders. Sakura knelt in front of you, checking your injuries.

You looked up, and Suo’s heart shattered like porcelain. A stream of blood leaked from your nostrils, a bruise bloomed across your throat, and your left eye was swelling. Sakura stood up and Suo quickly took his place. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks as you tremble.

“What happened lovely?” he asked, his eyes wide and concerned.

You were silent for a brief moment before you slipped off the bench and into Suo’s arms. You sobbed, “I don’t even know . . . Hayato . . .”

He pulled you into his chest, stroking your hair and kissing your hairline. “Shhh, shh, take your time, it’s okay.”

You wiped your tears and whimpered. “I think someone recognized me . . . they saw me walking with you one day . . . they . . . they had a white jacket on . . . ?”

Sakura and Nirei shot each other sharp looks behind you, before eyeing Suo, who remained stone faced. You continued softly, “I think they wanted to get to you through me?”

Suo went rigid, his breath hitching. Of course. Of course. No one knows anything about him, any of his other weaknesses. Of course they’d go through the first option they’re given. He was an idiot. He was so fucking stupid.

He kissed your forehead and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“. . . ” he removed Nirei’s jacket from your shoulders and replaced it with his. Then, with the help of Sakura and Nirei, he got you situated on his back as he walked you home, to his apartment.

“Hayato,” you whisper, your soft voice snapping him out of his recollection of the past half hour.

“Yes lovely?” he asks, turning his head slightly towards you. You gently play with a tassel, and he smiles.

“Thank you for coming. It was by complete accident that Sakura and Nirei found me, but I'm thankful they did. I was so scared, but when I heard Nirei calling you . . . I was so relieved. I love you,” and then your head droops, sleep overtaking you as you breathe in and out deeply.

Suo almost trips over his own feet. His eyes go wide and he sighs. His heart swells and he kisses your cheek.

“I love you too,” he whispers, “so much lovely.”

KIRYU MITSUKI ⋆˙⟡

Kiryu has an inkling that something was wrong since the morning. It was currently noon, the sun blaring down on the two of you. He was very close to sweating but for some reason, you were in a sweater. The two of you were walking in a strip mall, hand in hand, window shopping.

He studied you, analyzing your appearance. He’d known that you had a crop top at home that you were excited to wear once the weather got warmer, so then why . . .?

“Mitsuki?” You ask, fanning yourself with your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” He asks softly. His voice is gentle as he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “Why’re you sweating like this sweetie? You should take your sweater off.”

You stiffen marginally, but relax just as fast. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend though, who pouts and furrows his brow.

“I just bought this sweater,” you explain softly. “It’d be a waste to not wear it, right?”

“Then what about the tank tops you bought two weeks ago?” He presses. “That blue looked really cute on you.”

You hum and nod. “Hmmm yeah, maybe.”

“ . . . Cut it out,” he says pulling you closer. “Why’re you lying? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He hugs you and nuzzles his face into your neck. “I’m worried [name]-ie.”

You sigh after a moment, your hand coming up to pat his head. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

“You’re gonna die of heatstroke!” he exclaims.

You sigh and shake your head, lifting a hand up to fan your face. “Mitsuki-” you begin, but suddenly your sleeve slides down your arm, and the edge of the bruise starts to peak out from behind the cuff.

Kiryu’s eyes narrow in on it and he instantly jumps. His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls the sleeve down slowly, revealing a nasty bruise in the shape of a hand.

“ . . . Mitsuki-”

“What happened to you?” He asks, his voice hardened by shock. “Where did you get this from?”

“. . . it’s nothing,” you sigh. “I don’t know. Some guys just kinda cornered me the other day and were being asshats,” you mutter angrily. “They . . . beat me up.”

“What?” Kiryu asks. For a second he thinks he misheard you but the more uncomfortable you look by his silence, the more he knows that’s not true.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment before Kiryu drags you into the nearest department store. He leads you to the back of the store and pulls you into the first open stall.

“Mitsuki you can’t do thi-”

“I wanna see what they did. Take the sweater off.”

You stare at him indignantly for a few minutes before finally pulling the sweater up over your head. Bruises cover your torso, your stomach displaying an array of nasty purple splotches.

Kiryu stares at you, his face falling. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” he asks quietly after a moment.

“Because they wanted a rise out of you and I didn’t want to give them that.”

“You should’ve told me,” he grabs your arms and yanks you into a hug, squeezing you tight against him.

“I’ll heal.”

“That’s not the point,” he whispers against your neck. He pulls himself back and stares deeply into your eyes, his own a whirlwind storm of different emotions. “You always take care of me whenever I’m injured,” he whispers, lifting your wrist up to give the inside of it a kiss. “I wanted to do the same for you.”

You don’t know how long the two of you stand there in the fitting room hugging, but eventually, you’re back at his place, in his shirt, on his bed, in his arms, and you’ve never felt safer in your life.

KAJI REN ⋆˙⟡

Kaji’s sun bathing on the roof, the heat soft against his skin. Music was blaring in his ears, a tiny smile graced his face as he pictures the date the two of you are about to go on later today: go to Pothos . . . get some food . . . hold hands . . .

His smile widens as he pictures it. He can’t wait.

But he won’t have to, cuz you come to him. Or more like someone drags you to him.

“Kaji!” Enomoto shouts, yanking his headphones off.

“Ah! What the hell-”

“Look!” Enomoto shouts, pointing somewhere beyond Kaji.

Kaji sits up and looks through the chain link fence blocking the edge of the roof. At first he doesn’t see what Enomoto is pointing at, but then . . . he sees it.

Kusumi is already hurrying to your side, and scoops your limp body into his arms as he checks your injuries. More second years also rush to your body to look over you. They all know you through your relationship with Kaji, and they all see you as a sister of sorts.

Kaji is bursting through doors and racing through hallways, desperate to get to you. When he finally gets out to the courtyard, his heart is thrumming in his chest as his peers part to let him approach.

Kusumi sets you gently in Kaji’s arms, and Kaji tucks you under his chin. He looks up at Kusumi and Enomoto, who kneels by your side to assess your damage.

Kaji’s fingers dig into your arm as he growls, “What the fuck is this?”

You cough hoarsely as Kusumi says, “I got a text of a photo from an unknown number. Here,” Kusumi shows a photo of a broken you, your body in a fetal position to try and deflect the beating. You face has cuts all over it and bruises mar whatever skin is visible in the picture.

“It was probably a few stragglers from Keel who wanted revenge,” another second year theorizes.

Kaji grits his teeth and pulls you tighter against him. The fact that those lowlife scum would go after you . . . he’ll kill them all. The white hot rage that he knows all too well floods his system and short circuits his senses. He can feel it taking control of his brain. It threatens to take complete hold over him, turning his vision red.

“Ren…?” You whisper against his jaw.

And just like that, he snaps out of it. The other boys freeze as you speak. Kaji gently pulls you back so he can better see into your eyes. Your poor sweet eyes, which are teary and scared. He hates seeing you like this. Hates knowing how scared you must’ve been when you were being assaulted.

"C'mon, let's get you patched up," he mutters. He lifts you in his arms and carries you inside the school, calling for someone to prepare the nurse's office.

“Ren,” you whisper into his neck. Enomoto shouts for some food and water as you continue, “I was so scared.”

Kaji can only give a tight nod. He doesn’t know what else to do. He feels horrible, like this is all his fault. In a way, he supposes it is. When he feels you nuzzle against him, soaking in his scent, he wants to throw you far away from him, that way he can never accidentally cause you pain like this again.

Nevertheless, he carries you back into the school and into the nurse’s office, where a first aid kit is being organized, and some dorayaki and milk is brought forward to you. Some of the boys fuss over you, bandaging your cuts and pouring water into your mouth. You thank them graciously. Kaji stands off to the side, watching the ordeal unfold.

Once they’re done, everyone leaves you and Kaji alone. He holds your hand and you rub your thumb along his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks after he watches you silently for a moment. Anguish is written in his eyes.

“. . . Just hold my hand,” you whimper. "That always makes it better, right?" What choice does Kaji have but to comply?

He gives your hand a firm squeeze and you lean against him. He kisses your hair and you fall asleep, your body exhausted, but protected at last.

A/N: I wanted to do so many other characters for this, so lemme know if you want a part two!