#(she needs the sleep and MAYBE she’ll get some ACTUAL sleep >.>)

[darkmatilda]

𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after prentiss leaves, someone has to take care of her cat. you decide to share the responsibility between the two of you, leading the people around you to some strange conclusions.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x diva!chemist reader, mini absurd arguments, spencer texting her at 3 a.m. just to infodump about cats (theyre too sweet i cant), theyre completely in their parents era, proof that my sense of humor is silly, diva pov in the final scene!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 2.3k

𝐚/𝐧: this idea was suggested to me in a comment when i asked for fic ideas for the marathon—basically i think two people mentioned something about the return of that little kitten 🫶🏼

marathon masterlist

“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked, turning her head toward him.

Reid, sitting in the passenger seat of her car (her wonderful car…), sighed and closed his eyes.

“You should’ve asked me that when we were still at my apartment,” he muttered. “Then I could have checked. But I’m pretty sure I’ve got everything—like the litter box, the food…”

“A silk pillow?”

“Since when do cats need silk pillows?”

“Well, maybe other cats don’t, but mine does. The delicate fabric is the best for her fur.”

“And she’s still going to sleep on the shelf in the bathroom. Or the fridge. Anywhere but there. It’s a cat.”

She hesitated for a moment, but decided not to push. A brief explanation of what it was actually about—a while ago, they had both saved a kitten they found on the street. Neither of them had the time or the means to care for it, so it ended up in good hands with Emily. But when Prentiss accepted the job at Interpol and moved to London, it became necessary for someone else to take care of the kitten. Her second cat, Sergio, was taken in by Penelope, but she couldn’t adopt both, so they came up with the idea of sharing the responsibility.

This meant the cat would spend a few days with Reid and a few days with her, depending on their plans, schedules, and simply the time they had. It was a fairly new arrangement, so Spencer was about to take the cat in for the first time, and he felt as though it was much more serious than it really was.

After the first night, she literally came over in the morning to check if all her precious one's needs had been met and if she was well cared for. As it turned out, of course, everything was fine, and since she was already there, they went to work together.

“By the way,” she began, just as Reid reached for the car door (her wonderful car…!), which made him turn back toward her, hand paused midair. “I’m not convinced about that food Prentiss was giving her.”

Spencer barely held back an eye roll. Most of her concerns (and there were a lot of them) were entirely unfounded.

“It was fine. The vet recommended it himself.”

“But it didn’t look very good.”

“That’s because it’s cat food. It’d be weird if you thought it looked appetizing.”

“We’ll come back to that. Last thing—I had a few things delivered to your place…”

“To my place?”

“Yep. A harness, a leash, a bowl…”

“She already has a harness and leash. And I have bowls at my apartment…”

“Yeah, but these are nicer. Red with gold accents. They’ll match her black fur.”

“I’m genuinely starting to worry about you.”

“Why? Is it so wrong that I don’t want my baby getting laughed at by the other kids for wearing outdated clothes?”

“She’s a cat. Cats don’t laugh at each other for wearing outdated clothes. That kind of mean behavior is strictly human.”

“Say what you want, but I saw those judgmental looks last time I took her out for a walk.”

“You should be teaching your child that her worth isn’t tied to clothes or material things.”

“She knows that. And soon she’ll also learn that her father’s a cheapskate who doesn’t want her to have cool accessories.”

Spencer ended the conversation with a wave of his hand, deciding the level of absurdity had officially gone too far.

“We’re about to be late,” he pointed out, glancing at his watch.

She gave him a wounded look, as if time were a concept he’d personally invented just to get rid of her. Still, the fact remained—they really were about to be late.

They stepped out of her car (her wonderful... ha! Not this time) (...her wonderful car...) and almost immediately ran into Morgan’s surprised stare.

His takeaway coffee cup froze halfway to his lips.

“Since when do you two show up to work together?”

They exchanged a glance. Spencer’s was mildly awkward; hers was completely unfazed.

“Good morning, Morgan. Nice to see you too. That’s usually how these things start,” she replied in a lecturing tone, to which their friend only rolled his eyes.

“Good morning and all that. So?”

Spencer decided to step in, offering his own explanation—he wanted everything to be clear, no misunderstandings, and most importantly, no two weeks of Morgan shooting him those suggestive looks from beneath raised eyebrows.

“She was already leaving my apartment this morning, so we figured we’d just come in together,” he said plainly.

Morgan did exactly what Spencer had hoped to avoid—he shot him a suggestive look from beneath raised eyebrows.

She, too, fixed her gaze on him, the corner of her mouth curling with mild pity.

“Leaving each other’s apartments in the morning…I’ve gotta say, you two surprise me, but I can’t say it’s unexpected,” Derek commented, completely ignoring Reid’s emphatic head-shaking.

Before he could get another word out, he was silenced with a wave of her hand.

“Better not make it worse,” she told him, then sighed and turned to Morgan. “We just have a baby together.”

Spencer stared at her, wide-eyed.

 “And I’m the one making it worse?”

Morgan shook his head at them with a small smile and simply walked off, calmly sipping his coffee.

Naturally, Spencer hurried after him.

 “A cat! We have a cat together…!”

*

Spencer barely noticed Hotch’s arrival or the fact that the whole team had gathered—he was far too absorbed in the book he was reading.

Alex had been a little surprised by his choice of subject, but he’d explained that lately, he’d been reading a lot about cats. That was just the way he was. He felt a constant need to expand his knowledge, especially in areas that directly affected his daily life.

It had been two weeks since they’d taken the cat in together, and while he had grown used to the added presence in his apartment on certain days, he was still learning fascinating things about these creatures—either from personal experience or through books and articles.

Whenever he came across something particularly interesting, he made a mental note of it to share with her later. That is, with his colleague in shared cat ownership. In shared responsibility for Marie. Since they were doing this together, they needed to be equally educated.

And since there was quite a lot to learn, he eventually started texting her things like:

The claws on a cat’s back paws aren’t as sharp as the claws on the front paws because the back ones don’t retract and, as a result, get worn down.

To which he would receive replies like (which gave him a strange internal delight he would never admit out loud):

really?? going to check wait

Only for five minutes to pass in silence—until a new message popped up:

can’t check, she’s sleeping. you should be too, it’s 3 a.m

Spencer mentally bookmarked the exact page and line where he’d left off so he could return to it later.

In the meantime, Penelope stood before the team, remote in hand, ready to brief them on their next case. But before she could say a word, someone else walked into the room—despite the fact that the whole team was already there.

Funny. He’d just been thinking about her.

“I looked into what you asked me about,” she said, her eyes focused solely on Garcia, not sparing even a passing glance in his direction.

Not that it was particularly strange. Even though they hadn’t seen each other yet that day. It’s not like he always looked for her face first, in every room he happened to walk into.

In any case, she handed Penelope a few papers.

“I adore you, I swear,” Penelope gushed, accepting the papers with heartfelt gratitude.

“I know you do. Oh—and I know you didn’t ask for this, but I figured it was worth looking into, and I actually found something interesting. Take a look…”

She launched into something connected to their new case. Reid reached for the case files, flipping through them quickly to catch up with what she was referencing.

His gaze moved in a steady rhythm—from her face, to the page he was reading, and back again—following the cadence of her voice.

At one point, she caught the look he gave her and tilted her head slightly, a thoughtful expression forming on her face. She didn’t say anything, just kept talking about the case, and their eyes didn’t meet again until she was already at the door.

With one finger raised, she spun on her heel, as if something had just occurred to her. That finger landed squarely on him.

Curious about what she was about to say, Reid straightened in his seat. And then…

“I hope you remember the castration appointment. Six o’clock. You better be there early,” she said briskly before walking out of the room.

Every gaze in the room—unified like a single entity—turned toward his now unnecessarily upright figure.

Spencer’s fingers fidgeted with the papers in his hands, one drifting to his mouth as he cleared his throat.

“We…have a cat now…”

*

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, eyes never leaving the test results spread out in front of you. Someone appeared at your side, and you knew exactly who it was—even without turning your head.

Over time, you had learned to recognize the people who regularly stepped into your lab—their footsteps, the way they moved, even the sound of their breathing.

This one was new. Quiet, almost shy. He’d only just joined your team, and he was young, with those perpetually shadowed eyes that always seemed to drift around the room in a distant sort of way. Judging by those eyes alone, one could assume he was constantly contemplating the essence of human suffering—and quietly mourning all eight billion souls, one by one.

But truthfully, he had the makings of a brilliant chemist. All he needed was a little more confidence.

“Um, you wanted to see me,” he reported, hands clasped behind his back. Or at least, that’s what you assumed he was saying—he usually stood like that until your stare reminded him he looked like a lost calf, and then he’d shift his posture in embarrassment.

“Indeed. Take these to Dr. Reid.”

You handed him the analyzed results, and he gave a simple nod. He returned ten minutes later, once again taking his place silently by your side, waiting to be noticed.

By then, you were already done with your coffee, fully immersed in your work, and you gave him only a brief nod—enough of a signal that he, too, should get back to it.

“Dr. Reid asked me to tell you…” Winchester began, looking even more awkward than usual. “That unfortunately, he won’t be able to take Marie this weekend.”

You sighed in frustration, and he nearly jumped, thinking it was directed at him.

“We agreed to take turns looking after her every weekend. Does he really have to change it at the last minute?” you muttered under your breath, mentally noting to call him and yell — just on principle. Because honestly, nothing was stopping you from taking the cat for the weekend.

But doing it this way was just more fun.

Winchester nodded and started assisting you with your work, occasionally swallowing nervously, as if trying to find a topic of conversation.

He seemed to live under the impression that whenever you were silent, you were probably planning to destroy the galaxy you all lived in — so he always tried to make awkward small talk, which, truth be told, he had no real desire for as a self-declared introvert.

“So…” he began hesitantly. “Her name is Marie? Is that after…?”

“Marie Skłodowska Curie? That’s right, point for you,” you replied, pausing for a moment as something crossed your mind, making the corners of your lips curl up unintentionally. “Although, at first, it was Albert. We thought she was a male. Blame Spencer and his bad vision,” you snorted.

Winchester looked genuinely shocked.

“How...how could you...what about the doctors?” he stammered, still trying to process the situation.

“What's wrong with them?”

“Didn't they tell you that you...have a beautiful little girl?”

“They did. But we thought it was a boy at first.”

“O-okay,” he muttered, suddenly opening his mouth like he had just realized something. “Oh, okay, now I get it. And, well, I admire you. A home birth must’ve been…tough.”

Only then did you look up at him, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he deeply regretted not keeping his mouth shut, but at the same time, had no idea where he had gone wrong. He scratched his head.

“Sorry if that's a sensitive topic.”

“Our cat would be a sensitive topic?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement because the sheer panic on his face was almost comical. It was reminiscent of Reid’s mortified expression when he tried desperately to conceal that something you did or showed him embarrassed him—though his cheeks gave him away.

“Your…your...I thought...I thought Marie was your and Doctor Reid’s child,” he stuttered, panicking. “And that...I don’t know, you’re divorced or something...should I just shut up now?”

You stared at him for a moment, as if he were battling with himself to close his eyes, as if that would make him disappear.

“Yeah, that’d be probably the best best”

Lmaoo Winchester = Whitaker from the pitt this is exactly what I had in mind while writing

[absinthe-over-tea]

either way it's gonna || the pitt

pt 2 <<prev • next>>

pairing: jack abbott x f!resident!reader warnings: age gap (older man/younger woman), probably lots of medical inaccuracies, brief mentions of rehab and miscarriage a/n: Did I stay up until 2 a.m. to post this bc Jack Abbot and The Pitt have fully taken over my brain? Yes, yes, I did. This story is just getting started and I hope to keep posting updates throughout the week as I have time to write, so let me know if y'all want me to start a tag list?

As predicted, Robby was on the roof nursing a beer. Though at least tonight he was on this side of the railing. 

“Should I be worried about how often I find you up here these days?” Before PittFest a little over a month ago, it was rare for Robby to come up to the roof unless he was looking for Jack. Now, he was up here more nights than not. 

“You sound like Heather.” 

“Dr. Collins is a smart woman.” 

They both stood there leaning against the railing in silence, staring out over the skyline of downtown Pittsburgh in the distance. Jack knew better than to push Robby for a real answer. If he wanted to talk about what happened today, he would. If not, Jack was content to spend a few minutes in silence before what was sure to be another hectic shift. 

The sun was starting to set, and the soundtrack of the city was starting to morph from day to night — honking from rush hour commuters replaced by live music and happy hour laughter. The bar down the block that the day shift residents were always heading to after shift was playing some new pop song that Jack had heard too many times on the radio. He wondered briefly if you would head there after today’s shift with the others, or if you were the type to keep work and your personal life in two completely separate boxes. 

“So, I met your new resident downstairs,” Jack broke the silence. 

Robby’s eyes cut over to him, one eyebrow raised in that annoying Robby way that meant he was reading into something Jack would really rather him not. 

“Yeah, I needed a backfill for Langdon, and Gloria only made me promise half my soul in exchange. She’s a transfer from Mercy.” 

“She any good?” 

He tried to sound casual, unaffected — just an attending asking another attending about a new resident. But the way Robby fully turned to look at Jack suggested that he was unsuccessful. He pointedly ignored the growing smirk on his friend’s face. 

“Very. Calm under pressure, quick to diagnose, generous with the interns and med students. She’ll be an asset. Gloria actually smiled when she looked at her resumé, amd I didn’t know she was even capable of anything other than a disappointed frown.”

Jack just nodded slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the skyline as Robby continued to study him with his arms crossed over his chest and hip propped up against the railing. 

“I can’t tell if you’re asking because you want to sleep with her or because you want to steal her for the night shift.” 

“Oh fuck off, I’m not trying to steal her,” Jack rolled his eyes. He’d technically stolen Ellis away from day shift after her intern year, and Robby still hadn’t let it go. And even if Jack was plotting to steal you to add to the night shift roster, it’d be fair game. Night shift was even more understaffed than the day shift. 

“So you’re trying to sleep with her then?” 

Jack nearly gave himself whiplash turning to glare at Robby. “No, I’m not trying to—that’s not why I—Christ, Robby, she’s like half my age!” 

Robby barked out an amused laugh, shoulders shaking with what could only be described as unabashed glee while Jack sputtered out his response. “That must have been one hell of a first impression, Brother. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this flustered.” 

“I’m not flustered. Forget I said anything. Maybe I do want to steal her for the night shift,” he grumbled. “Get someone to keep Shen on his toes.” 

“Whatever you say, man. God, I need that after today. Thanks.” He pushed off from the railing and headed back to the door inside, still chuckling to himself. Jack followed behind him with a deep sigh, regretting almost every life choice that led him to becoming friends with this asshole. 

*** 

You liked working at The Pitt. It was a faster pace than Mercy. More cases, higher stakes, less oversight. Given how often you saw Gloria following around a visibly annoyed Robby, her heels clacking rapidly against the vinyl tiling, you suspected that last bit was thanks to him shielding the ED from higher influences. 

Robby was a great boss, and Dana ran a tight ship. Plus, there was a real sense of camaraderie between the staff that you didn’t realize you were missing before. It’s always a red flag when an HR department tells you that a workplace is “like a family,” and you thankfully hadn’t heard anyone say that during your interview process at PTMC. But you also sort of felt like it might be true in this case. 

The Pitt was sort of a family. A wildly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. And you’d been in desperate need of one. 

Collins was a tough chief resident, but she was constantly looking out for everyone else. Princess and Perlah may endlessly bully poor Whittaker, who was hands-down the most unlucky person you’d ever met in your life, but you’d seen them both slide a piece of candy across the counter toward him on numerous occasions when he was having the kind of shift that left him cycling through multiple sets of scrubs. Santos could be a pain in the ass, but she also didn’t hesitate to throw herself in between Mel and a patient who was getting a little too aggressive.

And by the end of your first month on the job, they’d brought you into the fold, too. 

You and Collins got close quickly. During your first week, you’d accidentally stumbled across her crying in the stairwell. You’d sat down with her quietly, just so she wouldn’t be alone, and after shift, she told you about her miscarriage and the case that had triggered her tears earlier in the day. You told her about breaking down in the ambulance bay after the kid whose father accidentally pushed them down the stairs during a bender. She wasn’t a lesser doctor because a case got to her; you all had your shit, and in the end, it made you better doctors. 

The guys invited you to join in on the betting board — something Mercy most certainly did not have. Everyone bet on everything, but there was also a mason jar at the nurses station labeled ��coffee stash,” and every single person who won money from the pool shoved a few bills into the jar from their winnings. Dana used it for cafe coffee runs on hard shifts and beer runs after good ones. 

Santos and Mel always invited you out for drinks after shift, even though you said no more often than not so you could visit your mom before visiting hours ended. Robby fist bumped you after successful cases you worked together. Princess told you about the unofficial bet the nurses had going on about Javadi and Mateo. 

Things were…good. Great, even. 

And then there was Dr. Abbot. 

You’d been so fucking embarrassed after that first meeting — snapping at him like he was an intern and then rambling like a moron before essentially running away. The absolute height of professionalism. 

But he didn’t seem to hold it against you. If anything, it seemed that unfortunate introduction had somehow endeared you to the stoic night shift attending. You weren’t sure if it was borne from how you handled that code, the bumbling apology after, or the ironic duality of the two interactions happening back-to-back (you really hoped it was the former). But the next time you were both working on the same patient, he’d handed you a pair of iris scissors and walked you through your first-ever emergency lateral canthotomy. 

After, he’d given you a proud smile. “Hell of a job, doctor. You just saved this man’s eye.” 

You didn’t get to work with him every day, only on the days he came in early for his shift or you stayed late to wrap up a case or catch up on paperwork. But the occasions when your time in the ED did overlap, you found yourself gravitating toward him. He was gruff, no-nonsense. He scared the shit out of the interns, and the nurses all had stories about him Macgyvering procedures. But he was also a phenomenal doctor and a patient teacher. Had a clear soft spot for vets and kids. 

And yeah, okay, he was unfairly handsome. You weren’t above admitting that to yourself. The corded muscles along his forearms, broad shoulders, the constant five o’clock shadow, the salt and pepper hair grown out just long enough to start to curl, the slight rasp in his voice. It was a very specific combination that caused a weird swooping sensation in your belly every time you locked eyes with him. 

You asked Collins about him at the bar one night, three whiskey diet cokes deep and unable to hold the question back. 

“What about him? He's the most senior night shift attending. Great doctor. Surprisingly good teacher, given the whole ‘ED cowboy’ reputation. He’s worked at The Pitt for… 7 years now, I think? Obvious workaholic, given how often he comes in early and stays late.” 

“I don’t mean what’s in his personnel file, Heather," you say, exasperated. You wanted to know what he was like, his hobbies outside of work, if he was single...

“Then what did you mean?” 

“I don’t know, something that’s not in his personnel file? I know him and Robby are friends.” 

She slumped down deeper in the booth, her legs stretching across until her feet rested on your side of the booth. “And why would that mean I know anything about him? Do I look like Princess and Perlah on the gossip squad to you?” 

You leveled an unamused look at her, one that said, Do you really want me to lay out exactly why I think you would know all about Jack because he and Robby are friends? 

She sighed dramatically, putting her hands up in surrender. “He’s a combat vet. Afghanistan. Three tours as a medic before an IED ended his military career. He wears a prosthetic, though he does a pretty good job of keeping it hidden at the hospital. Lately, him and Robby do this weird post-shift hand-off thing on the roof, which is morbid and more than a little concerning. He’s a widower; further details unclear.”

“Shit.” The liquor buzzing through your system prevented you from saying anything more eloquent. Heather just nodded in agreement. 

That briefly brought the mood down, silence stretching between you in the booth. Your mind wandered to Dr. Abbot. He’d be at the hospital right now, rounding on patients. It was late enough that there might be a lull. You wondered what he was like during those periods of downtime. Was he restless, constantly finding something to keep him busy, or did he relish a chance for a break to get some peace and quiet? Was he more relaxed with his night shift crew? Did he have secret jokes with the nurses? Did he give that small, proud smile when Ellis or Walsh pulled off a successful procedure under his tutelage? 

God, the whiskey was really making you pathetic tonight. 

“So, traumatized, tired, self-loathing older men. That’s your type?” Heather’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. 

You thought about denying it. It’s not like anything would ever happen between you anyway — he was an attending and older and a fucking widower, apparently. It was just an innocent work crush; something to keep your mind occupied during shift lulls and stilted visits with your mom. 

But then she waggled her eyebrows with a smug, shit-eating grin on her face, and you knew lying would be pointless. Instead, you threw a straw wrapper at her and shot her a mock glare. “Shut up, you’re one to talk.” 

She dodged the wrapper easily, sitting up with a burst of energy and demanding you to tell her everything. You were going to need another whiskey diet.

[covenofagatha]

The Psychology of Love (Part 5)

The Presentation

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: none

The walk to Personality Psych seems longer today, the building across the lawn somehow an infinite amount of distance away. With each step you take, the pit in your stomach that’s been growing since last night only worsens. 

Agatha never texted you back. 

The moment you had sent the message last night, fingers still wet from fucking yourself, you’d left your phone in your room and went to get a quick dinner from the dining hall to take your mind off it. But your thoughts were spiraling at a hundred miles a minute and you’d grabbed only an apple before heading back to your dorm. Heart racing, you had turned your phone over, and clicked on the screen, still smeared with you, to find no response. 

Okay, you told yourself, she’s probably just at dinner. She’ll text back when she can. 

So you had gone to take a shower later and when you came back, you were hopeful yet again. By that time, you had started to panic a little—maybe you had overstepped, maybe she didn’t realize it was you, maybe you texted the wrong number. 

The wrong number. Surely, that was it. You pulled up the email on your laptop and then clicked on the text chain and to your dismay, saw the little Read 5:56 PM underneath it. Five minutes after you had sent it. 

Your heart beat painfully in your chest and the feeling of nausea climbed up your throat, a visceral, physiological reaction to her rejection. It feels even worse now because you were so high on endorphins from your orgasm—because of her— and it had felt like a good idea when you sent it. Now that the clarity wore off and you were looking at the harsh light of your empty home screen with shame, you felt like you’d fucked everything up. 

It had taken a long time to talk yourself off a ledge. Maybe she read it and is going to respond later, maybe she forgot to respond, maybe she hates—

No. 

She did not hate you. 

You made yourself go to bed and ignored the feeling that everything was wrong. 

The same feeling that is still gripping your ribs as you walk to class right now. What if she doesn’t even look at you? What if she asks you to wait after class and then reprimands you for how inappropriate that was? You’re not sure which would be worse. 

Just as you’re walking up the steps, you hear someone calling your name. You turn on your heel to see a flash of dark hair and your stomach twists but then you squint your eyes against the glare of the sun and you realize that it’s Morgan. Who you haven’t texted back in days. 

“Hey,” she says, prompting for some sort of explanation. Her blue eyes seem grayer in the morning light but they’re stern as they pierce into you. 

You smile sheepishly and shift awkwardly, one foot stepping onto the stair beneath the one you’re on now. “Hey, Morgan. Um, I’m really sorry I haven’t responded, I’ve been—” you cough weakly twice, “—a little under the weather. Just been trying to sleep it off.” 

She frowns, a line creasing on her forehead. “Are you feeling better?” Her tone is dry; your lie is clearly unconvincing. 

The right thing to do would be to cut her off now, tell her you’re not interested. She deserves to know rather than to be led on and you’re just being cruel. 

Morgan comes closer and her perfume drifts into your nostrils, the same perfume you spritzed on yourself last night to make yourself come right before you were a fucking idiot who actually though your professor might like you. 

You shift again and meet her eyes uneasily. Confrontation has always been something that you’ve shied away from and now is no exception. 

“Yeah, a lot better, thanks,” you say and then apologetically point over shoulder at the building, “I have class, I really need to—”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” she interrupts and you freeze. 

Does she seriously still want to go out with you after you’ve ghosted her for almost a week? Now you feel bad. 

Her stare never leaves your face even as your eyes dart around everywhere but her while you think of an excuse. And then you remember. “I’m going to a presentation for a class tomorrow night,” you tell her, trying to sound as apologetic as possible. “It’ll be super boring but my professor said we should go. Some guy is coming to debunk popular psychology experiments.” 

Morgan nods. “Yeah, okay, cool.” She’s still looking at you expectantly though and you hold up your hand to block the sun from your vision and sigh inwardly. 

“What about Wednesday?” you offer because you apparently love to dig yourself into holes that you can’t get out of. 

If Agatha had texted you back, would you even be entertaining Morgan? The thought makes you feel guilty, but it might be true. 

“Yeah, I think I’m free. There’s this cool bar that opened downtown. It’s seventies-themed. Maybe we could check it out?” 

You nod and tilt your body so you’re facing up toward the building, determined to make a breakaway. “Perfect. I’ll text you tonight to sort out the details but I do really have to go.” You’ll set a reminder in your phone to actually follow through. 

“I guess I’ll see you Wednesday then,” she says, sounding happy. 

Plastering an overexaggerated smile on, you joke, “Not if I see you first!” and Morgan gives you a bemused look before turning and walking away. You let out a slow exhale and take the stairs two at a time before speed-walking to your classroom. 

There’s a few other students in their seats and they immediately stop talking when you open the door, but when they see that you’re not the professor, their chattering resumes. You pick up on tidbits and it grates you to realize that they’re talking about this class. 

“I don’t understand why she won’t post the slideshows—”

“—No one’s going to skip class even if she does because she barely puts anything on them anyway—”

“I know! And would it kill her to just be a little nicer? Like it’s not even—” 

“—That’s what I’m saying! Like, kicking that girl out of class on the first day?” 

“That was way too much. And now she wants us to go to that stupid presentation thing tomorrow night? As if I would willingly spend free time on this class for nothing.” 

“The least she could do is give us extra credit! She doesn’t have to be such a bitch—” 

A loud thud makes them jump and you realize that you smacked your balled-up fist against your desk. You blink, the anger that was clouding your vision fading away, and you mutter an apology. They look at you like you’re crazy and one girl opens her mouth when the door opens. 

Instead of Agatha walking in, it’s Rio. Your brows furrow as the TA walks to the front of the classroom without looking at anyone and sets her bag down on the desk. 

She pulls the keyboard closer to her and logs in, each click of the keys feeling like a kick to your gut. 

Where’s Agatha? 

Rio finally looks up to address the class. “Professor Harkness won’t be in class today so I’ll be covering.” 

Your hand shoots up before you even know what you’re doing. “Where is she?” 

A boy behind you mutters, “Dude, why are you asking?” but you ignore him and keep your eyes trained on Rio. 

Her cheek bulges from her tongue pressing against the inside of her mouth and she chuckles in amusement. “If you must know, she’s at a conference in New York today. Any more personal questions about your professor?” 

“No,” you mumble, hand dropping and you pull out your notebook to avoid any more embarrassment. 

Rio’s lips twitch as she pulls up the slideshow and clicks present. You start scribbling down everything written and she jumps right into the lesson. “There’s three different approaches to examine traits. We have the many-trait approach, where we measure hundreds or more of traits and determine how they correlate. Can anyone think of any problems with this?” 

Agatha would’ve looked right at you and expected an answer and you can feel yourself getting ready to say something, but Rio calls on a girl sitting in the back row. 

“Um…” she stammers and you fight to stop from rolling your eyes. Rio just waits. Agatha would’ve moved on by now. “...that’s too many traits?” 

“Yes,” Rio states. You can almost hear Agatha humming “Very good” for what would’ve been a much more eloquent response from you. “Allport and Odbert examined seventeen thousand, nine-hundred and fifty-three traits from the English dictionary in 1936. The many-trait approach is far too time-consuming and impractical.” 

She clicks to the next slide. 

“The essential trait approach is much more common. We study only a handful of traits that personality theorists believe ‘capture the essence’ of personality. These are tests like the Thematic Apperception Test and the Big Five test.” 

Your cheeks heat up at the mention of the Thematic Apperception Test and you’re reminded of being in Agatha’s office that day when she showed you some projection tests. 

It looks like a cunt. 

Even the memory of Agatha saying that word makes tingles run up your spine. And now you can’t stop thinking of looking at Agatha’s pussy and trying to draw it out through inkblots. 

There’s an uncomfortable heat settling between your thighs so you shift and try to block out your thoughts to focus on Rio, who’s still droning on. You much prefer Agatha teaching. 

“And then we have the single trait approach. We take one trait or construct and determine how it correlates or predicts some type of behavior. Perhaps the most famous single trait approach study was Stanley Milgram’s obedience study to look at the authoritative personality. I’m sure most of you have learned about it in a general psych class.” 

Rio pauses to look around the room and you see a raised hand in your periphery. She nods at them. This is usually when Agatha skips past your classmates and stares right at you while teaching about something that she gives a double meaning to, applicable to only you. 

It’s the same girl who Agatha called out for trying to seem smart. “That’s the one where they had the authority figure order the participant or the ‘teacher’ to shock the ‘learner’ for the wrong answer, right? Almost all of them went to the highest shock level just because a man in a white lab coat told them to. But the shocks weren’t actually real and the learner was in on it.” 

Rio smiles. “Yes, that’s exactly right. Sixty-five percent of participants went all the way up to shock the ‘learner’ with what they thought was four hundred and fifty volts of electricity. Not one person refused from the beginning. It’s easy to judge and say that we would stand up for something or that we wouldn’t do something that goes against our morals, but this experiment shows that we might succumb to even just the illusion of authority.” 

She meets your eyes smugly. “How many of you would do something just because your professor told you to?” 

“Depends which professor,” one guy says and there’s a titter from several classmates. 

But Rio’s stare still bores into you and you feel your skin heating up. 

“I think that’s a bit different,” says one girl and she thankfully pulls Rio’s attention away. You feel like you can breathe again. “Teachers tell us to do homework and we do it because it’ll ruin our grade if we don’t. And they’re not ordering us to harm other people.” 

The TA shrugs. “That’s a good point. But what about when we take credit off the table? How many of you are going to the presentation tomorrow night just because Professor Harkness said you should, knowing there’s no real incentive?” 

It seems like it’s an entirely different scenario but it’s pointed nonetheless. No one raises their hand and you stare a hole into your notebook. You can feel Rio smirking at you. 

“Interesting,” she muses. “Guess you guys are less susceptible to authority. At least, most of you.” 

Fury courses through your veins. You’re not going because Agatha said to, you’re going because you want her attention. Not that you can tell Rio that, and knowing it doesn’t even make you feel much better. 

Especially because she’s essentially ignoring you. 

She lectures on for just a few more minutes, some notes about the obedience study and how it relates back to the trait approach as a whole, before dismissing the class. 

Instead of packing up slowly, you throw your notebook into your bag and scurry out, uncharacteristically the first out the door. Rio doesn’t really like you and you’re not sure you’re too fond of her either. She definitely doesn’t like the fact that you’re somewhat close with Agatha. 

Are you? Or are you just a suck-up who reads into things? 

You’re not sure you want to find out. 

There’s almost two hours before your next class so you trudge back to your dorm room. Before you forget, you take out your phone and text Morgan, asking if she would want to share an Uber with you Wednesday night to the bar. 

That way you can get drunk, even though it’ll be a Wednesday night. It’s only the second week of school and you already desperately need something to get you through. There’s an antsiness that’s settled into your bones and you’re not sure how to get rid of it. 

The perfume that sits in your dresser—after you shoved it in there after yesterday—seems to be calling your name. You could take it out, smell it. Imagine Agatha here again. Your clit pulses at the very thought but you shove it out of your mind. That is something an insane person would do and you are not insane. 

But your heart beats faster and you can’t help but wonder if you should text her again. Maybe just check in, ask how the conference is going. Tell her you’re excited about the presentation or ask a question about it. Your lip is almost raw from how hard you’re chewing on it so you switch to biting your nail instead while you pace around in your small room. 

And then your phone buzzes. 

Assuming it’s Morgan, you don’t hesitate to flip it over from its position on your bed and you stop breathing. 

It’s a text from Agatha. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

You flip your phone back over and try to quell the butterflies in your stomach. Your first thought is that she knew you were thinking about her and then you remember your general psych professor talking about the concept of synchronicity. 

The simultaneous occurrence of events which appear significantly related but have no discernible causal connection.

It’s not like you’re never not thinking of her. So it would make sense that if she did text you, it would be during those thoughts. You’re proud of yourself for not falling victim to confirmation bias. 

But now you have to read it. 

Or, you could just not respond for about a day to give her a taste of what you’ve been going through. Except you’re not sure she’d feel the same distress you did and you don’t want to wait that long to talk to her so you pick up your phone and take a deep breath. There is no reason you should be this nervous over a text message. 

Of course, hon. Happy to help. Just wanted to let you know that the presentation tomorrow is in room 126 of the psychology building. See you then! 

You really must be the only person going or she probably would’ve sent out a course email. 

Your decision to go has never felt better and then you gasp when you see a bubble with three dots appear. She’s still typing. You turn your phone off and resume your pacing to mentally prepare. 

The phone vibrates in your hand and you raise it to your eyes. 

Hope class went well with Rio ;)

The winky face settles right in your cunt and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling the pool between them come back. 

What do you say? How long should you wait to reply so it doesn't seem like you’re too eager? Why are you overthinking this so much? 

Hands trembling, you type out, Can’t wait! Class went well, we learned about the Milgram obedience study. Very interesting. 

And then you wait. You’re almost afraid to keep looking at your phone but then you get the read receipt and a few moments later, the bubble appears again. 

You think you’re going to throw up. 

It goes away and you frown before it pops back up. It stays there for a while and you debate if she’s going to send you a long text or if she’s having trouble figuring out what to say. 

Finally, her response comes. Yes, very interesting. It can be hard to stand up to people, especially authority figures. But there’s nothing wrong with being obedient sometimes. 

Your breath catches in your throat. Is she flirting? She must be flirting. What the fuck do you even say to that? Is I can be good for you too forward?

It takes a good five minutes of you staring at your screen to figure out a safe response. I agree. 

You send it before you can think twice about it and when you take a step to sit on your bed, you realize you can feel how swollen and wet your cunt has become. Fuck. Agatha’s effect on you is starting to become slightly unhealthy. 

But you want to lean into it. 

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the perfume before uncapping it and spritzing it all over your bed. And then you climb up and inhale deeply, the coffee and vanilla scent transporting Agatha to your room, to right in front of you. 

In your head, she watches approvingly as you tweak your nipple with three fingers and then slide your hand down your body. She smirks as you delve into your underwear with her name on your lips when you finally touch yourself. 

——

“Wait, so you’re not getting extra credit or anything and you’re still going?” Wanda asks incredulously from her bed while you scavenge through your closet to find an appropriate outfit to wear. The presentation starts in thirty minutes and you started looking for something to put on way too late. 

In your defense, you did have class and you’re putting way too much thought into this because you’re going to see Agatha. 

“It’s interesting and my professor said it would be good to go to,” you defend, holding up a gray sweater for your roommate to judge. 

She shakes her head and you roll your eyes before moving to the next option. 

“What’s wrong with what you have on?” 

You look down at yourself, at your leggings and high school t-shirt, and scoff. “I’m guessing it’s probably a business casual sort of thing at least.” 

Wanda jumps off her bed and moves you out of the way so she can look through your clothes, humming occasionally to herself. She pulls out a plaid blue and black skirt with hints of red and hands it to you and then finds a long-sleeve black turtleneck. 

“You’ll look smart,” she says and you snort before taking off your clothes and putting the outfit she picked out on. You look at yourself in the mirror and Wanda whistles lowly. “If we were both single…” she jokes and you shoot her a glare. 

“Morgan and I aren’t dating. We’ve been on one date.” 

“Well, you did sleep together on the first night of meeting. Not sure what that classifies as.” 

A mistake is on the tip of your tongue but you swallow it and shrug. You slide your white Vans onto your feet and grab your phone and your wallet with your student ID, just in case. Agatha said she’d put you on the list, but you want to make sure you can actually get in. 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” you say to Wanda, pausing at the door. She nods and blows you a kiss and you begin your walk over to the psychology building. 

Your heartbeat quickens with each step. You haven’t seen Agatha since Sunday, when she gave you a ride back to your dorm. You can still feel her breath on your face when she leaned in to open the door for you. The almost-kiss. Not that she would have, but it’s what you’ve dubbed it in your mind. 

When you tell the lady at the table outside room 126 your name, she scans the paper in front of her and puts a check by it. “You’re all set,” she says with a smile and motions toward the open door. 

Putting on a brave face, you walk into the room. It’s big and lecture hall style and about half the seats are already taken. The door is at the bottom so you’re able to look up and see everyone’s faces. You can’t find Agatha though. 

A quick glance at your watch shows you that there’s still about ten minutes before it starts, so maybe she’s just running late. You find a row in the middle with a few open seats and put your wallet onto the desk next to you, saving it just in case Agatha comes and wants to sit there. You silently pray that the room fills up before she gets here so she has no choice. 

You keep looking around, craning your neck behind you, but there’s still no sign of her. However, other people have notebooks and pens and you’re now worried that you should’ve brought stuff to take notes with. 

It’s clear that you’re not exactly here for the presentation. 

Time ticks away and you’re anxiously bouncing your foot, still looking wildly for any sign of her. Maybe you could make a quick exit if she doesn’t show up. 

“Excuse me, is someone sitting there?” 

You whirl around, exclaiming, “It’s all yours!” 

Much to your chagrin, it’s not Agatha, but an elderly man in a tweed coat pointing at the chair two away from your own. He looks pleasantly surprised at your excitement and starts to move forward so you politely move your legs to the side so he can get by you. He gives you a sweet smile that you return and then you palm your face. Heat is radiating off it. 

Two minutes to go. Should you text her? Tell her that you have a seat for her? Or you could just get up and leave. 

You think that might be the best option. 

But right as you’re gathering your phone and wallet, a woman steps to the front of the room and taps the microphone at the lectern twice. There’s a simultaneous grimace from everyone at the static and you slouch back into your chair because you’ve been trapped here all alone. 

And then she leans in. “Thank you all for coming. Without further ado, Dr. Charles Paulson.” 

There’s a round of applause and a man who was sitting in the front row jumps up and jogs to the lectern. He’s about average height, slicked-back brown hair, and a slight stubble on his cheeks. A satchel hangs around his shoulders and he unclips it to pull out a stack of papers. You’re still holding out hope that Agatha will show up. 

He begins to talk and you actually find yourself really enraptured by what he’s saying. You really do have a passion for psychology and hearing the flaws in the experiments you’ve been taught over and over again by practically every professor you’ve had makes you gain a newfound appreciation for the subject. 

Dr. Paulson starts with the delay of gratification study first. He goes through it detailing exactly what the psychologists thought would happen and operationally defines all the variables. Your face heats up as you recall Agatha’s intense eye contact with you when she was talking about it. 

Is it better to get instant relief for something small, or to wait and let the anticipation build up for a better reward? 

The instant relief could be Morgan. Or it could be making a move on Agatha only to get rejected or blow up any kind of relationship. Is she telling you to wait? Let the tension build up so it’s a sweeter reward? 

“There’s two main assumptions that Mischel and Ebbesen made in this study, two critical assumptions that bring into question the validity of it. One is that the child wants the candy bar. If they don’t, then they will have no problem waiting. The second is that the child experiences tension while having to wait for the researcher to come back. What this study may really be measuring…is obedience.” 

There’s nothing wrong with being obedient sometimes. 

You almost laugh. It would only make sense that this is her favorite study. 

He moves onto the Rosenthal and Jacobson study on expectancy effects and you kind of zone out. He says something about them not clarifying what the teachers did to cause the students to get higher grades and the experiment didn’t replicate. 

By the time he gets to the Stanford Prison Experiment, you’ve completely stopped paying attention. Your fingers drum on the desk and you regret not bringing pen and paper because then you’d at least have something to do. You keep checking your watch, watching as an hour passes by and then another twenty minutes, when he finally stops talking. 

You’re about to leap out of your chair when the lady from earlier steps up to the microphone again. “Before we finish, does anyone have any questions for Dr. Paulson?” 

Unfortunately, about twenty people in the rows in front of you raise their hand and you inwardly groan. You definitely should not have come. This has been a colossal waste of your time. 

Charles takes the questions one-by-one and you’re shocked by how many of them are just blatantly bad. You swear three quarters the answers are things he said while speaking, and if you know that from only half-listening, they definitely should. 

Another thirty minutes pass and you’re seriously considering making a break for it. Surely you wouldn’t get in trouble for excusing yourself early. Agatha must’ve forgotten to mention that this presentation would be two hours. 

Two hours you could’ve spent with her, you think bitterly. Did she get caught up in New York for her conference? She said that she would see you here. Maybe there was an emergency. 

“Okay, we have time for one more question. How about you in the back?” He points to someone and you sit straighter because you’re almost done. You’re ready to run. 

“I was wondering about the delay of gratification study and how you would modify it to make it more valid.” It’s not the question that makes you freeze, it’s the voice. 

You whip your head around and your heart skips a beat. Agatha is standing against the wall. Your breathing grows shallower and you completely miss Charles answering the question. She’s wearing a navy pussybow blouse tucked neatly into black pants. Through her collar, you can see a hint of the pale skin on her chest and it makes your mouth run dry. Her ponytail is high with a few strands of hair framing her face. Her lips are painted a light pink, she has small golden hoops in her ears, and when she looks straight at you, her blue eyes are bright and dark at the same time. 

A rush of relief runs through you. Even just the mere sight of her makes this entire night worth it. 

And then she winks at you and your core clenches. You vaguely make out Charles thanking everyone and then there’s a round of applause but it’s like you’re in a trance as you stand up and walk over to her, a magnetic force pulling you closer. 

“Hi,” you breathe, standing about two feet away from her even though everyone is streaming out the door. People keep knocking into you so Agatha takes hold of your arm and leads you out and pulls you into a little alcove in the hall. Her perfume invades your nostrils and you hate how you immediately feel yourself getting wet. “I wasn’t sure you were there.” 

She smirks because you just admitted that you were looking for her and you couldn’t care less. “I got caught up in my office hours so I was a little late. I got here right about when he started talking about the expectancy effect experiments. What did you think of it?” 

“Oh, I really liked it,” you say, deciding to leave out the part about you not paying attention past the first study. “It was really interesting and it brought up a lot of good points about how we should scrutinize everything, even experiments that are famous. Some of them aren’t very reliable and valid and yet we still base a lot of assumptions off them.” 

Agatha nods. “Very good observations. I must say, I’m a little surprised that none of your classmates deigned to join you. But not at all surprised that you were the one I could count on.” 

Your cheeks heat up and you take a sudden interest in your shoes. “I had nothing better to do. Although, you did miss him talking about the delay of gratification study. I know that one was your favorite.” 

“Oh, did I?” she asks and you nod, finally looking back up at her. There’s a glint in her eyes. “Why don’t we go grab something to eat—maybe even a drink?—and you can fill me in? I’m starving.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds good,” you rasp. 

She smiles and gently puts her hand on your back to get you walking and you follow her out of the building to her car, your heart pounding in time with each step you take. 

Part Six

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @filmedbyharkness @autbot @claramelooo @dandelions4us @agathaallalongg @jujuu23 @21cannibal @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @jeridandridge @hannibalcanniballz @chloeelou02x @hapuchika

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi Shinazugawa standing up for you

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,1k

Synopsis: You are used to no one believing in you, to get picked on by other corps member because you're a girl. Until one of them crosses the line and starts a fights. Until a certain someone stands up for you when no one else does.

Warnings: not proofread bc I have a gym date with my boy (in order to have a biceps as beefy as (y/n)'s lmao), reader gets reduced to being a weak woman when she is anything but that, bad girl energy, Sanemi being a cutie

„I can’t believe they allowed a little girl to participate.”

“Look at her. There’s no way she survived the training of the former sound hashira, the serpent pillar and landed here.”

“Probably nothing but luck. Or she cheated.”

Don’t listen to them, just focus on staying hydrated and eating enough for your upcoming training. It has always been this way. You, a girl in a world of boys against everything. Why is it so hard to believe that you are capable of doing what they do when two female hashira show them how it’s done? You work your ass of day in and out, stayed consistent for your whole life. You’re always the first who appears in the morning and the last of them who falls into bed after practice. Nothing in life is given you for free, especially when it comes to strength. But apparently, they fail to realize this even after being a part of the demon slayer corps for quite some time.

“I bet she slept her way up.”

Your heart drops to the floor, eyes widen in sheer disbelief. You, sleeping your way up?

“Yeah, maybe she aims to be the fourth wife of him or something.”

“So that’s why he’s always going easy on her.”

“I can hear you. Loud and clearly”, you finally speak up.

They are talking about you as if you are nothing but air, as if you wouldn’t share the same air. Anger begins to rush through your veins uncontrollably. All this work only to be called the mistress of a former hashira?

“I couldn’t care less about the existence of a woman who fucked her way up”, one of them spits directly into your face.

“How are your trainees doing?”, the white-haired men questioned while staring into the sunset.

“Most of them are trash. That one though…”

Instantly, Sanemi’s gaze is glued onto Obanai who now sits next to him.

“Really? You’ve got one that has some balls?”

“A girl, to be exact. She seems decently skilled and Actually just transferred to your training”, Obanai clarifies.

“I never heard of a girl getting through Uzui’s basic training until now”, Sanemi replies while rubbing his chin.

A girl, huh? He can’t put a finger on the last time he ever trained one. But if Obanai talks so highly about you, there sure must be something going on.

“She’s got potential. Let’s just hope there’s enough time.”

“Instead of lying around like the loser you are, try training next time. I don’t need to fuck my way up, I’m all good by my own”, you bark back along with straightening your shoulders.

Who does this guy think he is? Talking behind your back like that while you don’t even know who the fuck he is.

“You’re nothing but a weak woman, I’m sure it was way too easy for you to wrap them hashira around your finger.”

You draw closer, his dreadful eyes piercing like arrows through yours. But you couldn’t care less. No, this is enough.

“Bold coming from a guy who obviously never touched a woman in his entire life. To be honest, I could give you one or two reasons for that. But it’s not my job to tell you what kind of loser you are. Now excuse me, the training session with the wind hashira begins soon and you definitely aren’t worth being late to that.”

“Why do I have to waste my time with those losers?”, Sanemi mumbles to himself while walking towards the campsite where all the trainees are located.

Or wait, didn’t Obanai talk about a skilled girl earlier? Maybe she’ll last longer than that bunch of losers. While getting closer, his eyes fall on a crowd of multiple guys cheering and staring of what looks like a sensation in the middle.

“What the hell is going on over there?”

You manage to escape his punch just before he hits your face with full force, so unexpected that your eyes widen. Did he just try to slap you? In your face?

“Are you out of your goddamn mind? We are here to get trained and not to fight each other like animals!”, you roar at him.

Another dash forward, another failed attempt to hit you with full force while everyone around you starts eyeing you up and down. This must be a cruel joke, a nightmare. You joined the demon slayer corps to fight against injustice and to support peace. But in this very moment, you find yourself surrounded by your comrades who definitely try to hurt you.

“You just have to play the smartest one, don’t you? I don’t give a damn about your little game. I will never respect a woman who fucked her way up”, he jeers back at you.

You force yourself not to cry, to not show them how much their fucking words sting. All your life, you were forced to fight against those who wanted to see you suffer, does who didn’t put trust in your abilities. Your neighbors, your friends, even your own family. Never more than a little girl with crazy dreams, never more than average with no one who believes in her.

“You have no i-“

An enormous storm of air swirling around you catches you completely off guard and almost sweeps you off your feet. You aren’t able to see anything anymore, let alone move. Fuck, what is this? Definitely not the power of that jerk from before. Your lungs feel like bursting under the immense pressure, chest so tight that you have to force air in and out. What on earth is this?

“That’s enough. Who do you even think you are?”

When the storm calms down as rapidly as it came, you find yourself landing onto the floor with your knees just in time while everyone around you bumps into the ground head-first.

“S-she attacked me! It was her fault!”

Your eyes widen in sheer horror when you begin to realize who was responsible for this. There he stands with his katana in his hand, his white cloak still flowing in the wind.

And his dreadful orbs are set on you.

You try to scream, try to defend yourself, but all of the sudden you forgot how to speak. This is the wind hashira, Sanemi Shinazugawa. After all those countless sessions with Tengen and Obanai, it was your goal to get here, to impress him.

But now you’re kneeling to his feet while countless men point their fingers at you, claiming you’re the one responsible for this mess.

“So, this was you?”, he questions.

There is no doubt in the fact that his ask is directed towards you. Not when he looks at you so serious with his hand clutched into a tight fist.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble”, you finally press out.

Defending yourself is a waste of time. With all those men saying you’re the problem, your words mean nothing. All you can do is sit here and hope that you’re able to stay, hope that the wind hashira won’t send you back home like everyone predicted.

“You have to be fucking kidding me”, he mutters with low voice.

It’s over. This is it, your final time at the hashira training. Even giving your best wasn’t enough, apparently. Not when nobody believes in you except yourself. You should have kept quiet, should have ignored their stupid sayings. You furrow your eyebrows, wild eyes going hard.

No. You did everything right. No one is allowed to talk to you in such a manner, to say all those nasty things about you. It was the only right thing to defend your honor. There is nothing to regret.

“Are you really trying to make her responsible for this when I heard your dumb ass talking shit about her? You have some fucking nerve, lying into the face of a hashira.”

Time stands still, you don’t dare to make a move while the crowd around you goes silent. Did the wind hashira really just…Stand up for you?

“Now get lost, all of you brats. If you’d be as good at fighting as in talking shit, we would have beaten all demons already.”

He doesn’t have to tell them twice. In the matter of seconds, the usual crowded area is deadly silent with only you and the white-haired man remaining. Your heart almost beats out of your chest, eyes now fixated on his back. Why would he even stand up for a stranger, especially a girl? It’s probably best if you get away from here as well-

“No, not you. You definitely stay”, he instructs you after you take one single step forward.

You freeze right in your tracks. What now? Will he kick you out, send you back to your family? What if he didn’t mean those words he said earlier, what if he’s not convinced that you are in fact innocent?

“Listen, I’m sorry about t-“

“You really have some balls, dealing with a bunch of guys like that. My honest respect for that.”

 “What?”, you blurt out.

And there it is. The most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen, a smile that makes your heart and stomach flutter, that leaves you standing there like an idiot. You never actually believed in love, let alone to fall for someone. But the wind hashira, standing in front of you with his katana casually placed over his shoulders and his hand on his hip while smiling at you…

You’re lost. Deeply, completely, utterly lost.

“It’s clear that you’re working hard and I admire that. They have no right to talk to you this disrespectfully. I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that”, he replies with his charismatic low voice.

“Thank you for standing up for me. For a second, I was pretty sure you’ll send me back home”, you admit while avoiding his gaze.

Maybe you’re still able to prove them all wrong, maybe you will make it after all. The hashira training is your chance to finally show your true self. You grab the handle of your katana tightly. And you will do everything you can to use that chance.

“Why would I send someone like you home when you’re one of the best corps members? These guys don’t know shit about you and it’s clear that they’re jealous. Don’t listen to those people and keep up the hard work.”

The man in front of you definitely isn’t the monster you’ve heard of. The rough and loud wind hashira who has zero control over his emotions, who rejected his own brother. The man who means nothing but violence, nothing but trouble. No, that man in front of you is smiling at you, teasing you in order to become better. And you’ll do everything to thank him for believing in you.

-one week later-

“You can’t keep her for yourself any longer. Apart from Kamado, she’s one of the greatest chances the demon slayer corps have. It’s Gyomei’s turn to train her”, Shinobu explains calmly, earning one of the deadliest looks ever from the wind hashira.

Truth is, he doesn’t want to let you go. He wants to see you every day, wants to train with you as often as he can, wants to talk with you into the night. What is left when you’re not around except the effect you had on him, the admiration he holds for you in his heart? Sanemi thought he’d never be able to find love again, that no other woman would ever catch his heart. But there you are with your determination made of stone and heart made of gold.

“She’s better off with me”, he mumbles with a pout, not daring to look into the insect pillar’s eyes.

It’s clear that he’s acting ridiculous. When it comes to gaining more strength and abilities, you’re definitely not better off by his side only. He can’t just gatekeep you for his own will.

“Don’t tell me you started liking her”, Obanai comments dryly.

“Sanemi, is it possible, that…that…”

“Don’t you dare saying that”, he warns the pink-haired girl opposite of him.

“ARE YOU IN LOVE WITH (Y/N)!?”

“SHUT UP, I NEVER SAID THAT!”

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO SAY IT, I CAN SEE IT IN YOUR EYES!”

“WHY? BECAUSE THEY’RE BLOODSHOT!?”

Him, in love with a woman? How ridiculous…

Right?

He huffs to himself. Yeah, there is no denying in the fact that he fell a little too hard.

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen

[yournightmary]

Vi HCs

content warning:: i guess there’s some angst? but it’s arcane so it’s nothing new

AN:: just a mix of different headcannons to get me through season 2.

pitfighter!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’m sorry but she smells so bad. I’m not talking about a little stink- she smells fucking rancid. It’s a mix of sweat, alcohol, blood, hair dye and sometimes even puke. I don’t think she even showers properly, she just runs a wet towel over her body and calls it a day.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She dyes her hair with the cheapest hair dye in front of her cracked mirror- that’s why it’s so shitty. Doesn’t buy enough and ends up not covering her ends every single time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Barely has any clothes. Owns 3 pairs of jeans and 4 shirts, all of them ragged and stained. Doesn’t even wear the shirts most of the time, she just wraps her chest with bandages.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ At first she didn’t want to do the eyeliner thing but a few fellow fighters told her it’s something to be recognized and remember for. For the first few times she actually payed attention to how she’s applying it, but after that she said fuck it and just slapped it on. Also she doesn’t use proper eyeliner, maybe something like water-activated face paint.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Really craves touch. She’ll glue herself to random girls (bonus points if they have dark blue hair) at bars and blame it on being drunk. Nothing sexual, just plain affections.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her every day looks the same. Wake up in the middle of the day, sulk on the shitty mattress that she calls her bed, work out, put on her make up, head to the pit, drink till the morning. There’s literally no difference in them.

young!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I don’t know where i’ve read it I think it was like an interview or something but she’s literally just a girl. She didn’t want to be the strong fighter that everyone knows not to mess with, but that’s who she has to be to survive in the Undercity.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Definitely gave music a try. Like be so fr, she has a saxophone on her bed. Maybe she found it on a job and thought it was too cool to sell. Always wanted to play guitar but it was out of her price range.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She knew she liked girls from very early on and so did everyone around her. She didn’t hide it from anyone, there was literally no reason to. In season 1 you can even see she has a poster of a half-naked woman next to her bed, like come on now.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’ve seen people saying that she doesn’t know how to make food but hear me out. I think she’s actually a pretty good cook due to her being the ‘caretaker’ when Vander couldn’t do it. Definitely cooked for Powder when she woke her up in the middle of the night because she was so hungry it was bordering on being painful.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She cuts her own hair. One time she fucked up so bad she had to shave her whole side and it just kind of stayed with her.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Never does anything for herself. Whenever she finds something- like clothes or food- she gives it to someone else. Always makes sure the others have enough before she takes something for herself.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She feels so guilty after stealing stuff from other people. She’s not stupid and she knows how hard life in the underground is, and that it justifies her actions but still- she’ll roll from side to side instead of sleeping, thinking about how much of a shitty person she is.

dating!Vi

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Literally the best girlfriend out there and I will die on this hill.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She’s so touch-starved it’s unbelievable. When she was a teen she didn’t really experience anything relationship-like and then she got locked up for a few years. She’ll always have her arm around you, her hand on your hip or waist.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Oh my god her hugs are so good ahhhh. It’s just like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. Really likes to give hugs from behind too.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves cuddling, especially if it involves her lying on top of you. She doesn’t need any pillows if she has you and your lap, stomach or chest.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She is such an acts of service girl. And it goes both ways! If you make her dinner or plan a whole date by yourself she’ll feel so loved.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She stares so much it’s borderline creepy. She’ll just look at you in silence for a few minutes before turning her head away with a smile, thinking about how lucky she is to have you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ You’ll be cuddling with her before sleep, scratching her back or scalp for the whole time. Once you think she’s asleep you stop and she immediately looks up at you with furrowed brows, asking why you stopped.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ While she is proud of her physique and stuff she does feel self conscious about her hands. Mostly because of all the scars and bruises, maybe a little because of how manly they look.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ She was a victim of being treated like a guy because she’s more masculine presenting than feminine. Pay for her food at a restaurant, do her makeup, tell her she looks pretty not handsome.

[rafelandia]

Hwy can you wtite dad rafe x mom reader after giving birth to their daughter how did the first time (s€x) went or something like that, you can do what you want.

I feel like Rafe is hesitant to initiate once they get cleared by the doctor. He wants to so fucking bad but these last few weeks had been rough and he knows Y/N hasn’t had the best time. He unintentionally makes the drive home awkward and quiet, not wanting to bring it up until she does.

It probably starts out slow and on a whim, maybe she goes to check on Rafe in the middle of the night because he’d been out of bed a bit longer than he normally is. She finds him in the kitchen cleaning a bottle and there’s just something about the way the moonlight is hitting his broad chest and toned arms that reignites the flame deep in her tummy. Rafe would scoop her up and sit her on the cool, marble countertops of their kitchen and lazily plants warm and wet kisses down her neck and chest. He thinks it’s finally happening and right when his fingers navigate their way through her sleep shorts and hover over her sweet heat, they’re interrupted by a piercing cry of their newborn that jolts them out of the passionate state of longing they were in.

The next time, she’s nervous. She knows her body has changed and while she is extremely confident that Rafe could care less because she’d given him the most precious gift in the world, it’s a personal hurdle that she hasn’t quite been able to jump. She eventually agrees after being begged for what felt like the millionth time to let Rafe eat her out. He takes his time, refamiliarizing himself with her pussy and relishing the taste that he’d missed so much. Rafe’s got some stubble now due to late nights and exhaustion, which only enhances the sensation Y/N feels while he massages her clit with his tongue. The build up is intense and it doesn’t take long before her back arches up from the plush mattress they share when Rafe gently pumps one of his fingers inside of her and she’s seeing stars.

The rekindling of their sex life makes them feel young again — they find themselves sneaking away during any free time they have when baby girl is asleep. She’ll sit on his face while he devours her, and she’s leaning back so she can haphazardly stroke his thick cock. She’s getting more comfortable and gaining her confidence back — Rafe knows it won’t be long until she’s begging him to fuck the daylights out of her.

The first time they actually have sex is probably on a whim too — no elaborate gesture like flower petals on the bed and no meticulously planned “massage” that they both knew what would really end up going down. Rafe and Y/N are probably just in the hot tub after enjoying some wine at dinner and what starts as slow, drunken kisses turns into her on top of him and his hands shoved down the back of her swimsuit. He’s rubbing circles on her ass while she’s sucking on his neck, fingers moving dangerously close to her sweet spot. She’s putty in his hands and it’s not long before he’s teasing her entrance with the tip of his cock, waiting in agony for her to make the next move. The look in both of their eyes is unmistakably lust-ridden as she slowly sinks down into him. Rafe brushes her hair out of her face with a wet hand and tells her that she’s beautiful and to go as slow as she needs to, though he knows he’s on the brink of cumming just from the way the jets are swaying her body back and forth against him.

It would start agonizingly slow, Y/N having to stretch herself to fit all of him inside. He jumps the gun and bucks his hips on instinct. She tenses up at the sharp movement and he kisses the swell of her exposed breast before muttering a breathy, “Sorry, baby,” against her skin. Only a few minutes of rocking back and forth against him pass before they’re both out of air and panting heavily in each other’s ear. Rafe takes over for the last little bit, bouncing her up and down on his length. He tells her he’s close and is a bit embarrassed by it, but as her core rocks against the trail of hair beneath his navel and he knows she’s not far behind him. He gets it out of her when he starts talking, moaning into her neck about how much he missed fucking her pussy and how good it feels to have her again after what felt like centuries. Her body convulses as she comes undone, making her clench around his cock. That was all he needed to finish, though he makes sure to pull out before cumming into the water. They lay there for a bit, Y/N on top of him while she regains her strength. Swimsuits are abandoned in the hot tub when they head up for a shower and some sleep, knowing the house keepers will find them in the morning. Neither of them really seem to care.

Rafe is deeply unserious so he probably says something stupid like, “We are so back,” and playfully slaps her naked bum as she makes her way up the stairs and into bed. He’s missed his girl and the feeling he gets when he sees her with their daughter makes him want to put another baby in her and do it all over again. He knows it’s ridiculous to want another so soon — it’s more of a newly developed breeding kink than anything. But he’ll wait patiently until the time comes.

Little did he know.

[peasack]

You know, I've been searching EVERYWHERE. for some teen!reader or just simply platonic!reader x thunderbolts but I cannot find them anywhere, so I've decided to take matter into my own hands.

Please excuse me for my poor writing, this is my first time writing headcanons and English is not my first language. Might come off a little cringe but overall just sappy, happy headcanons.

✦ Thunderbolts Nickname Headcanons for gn!Teen!Reader ✦

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

✦ Alexei – "Little Star"

Alexei caught you sneaking out to sit on the balcony one night after a rough mission. You were just staring at the stars in silence.

“You remind me of the stars,” he said gruffly.

You squinted at him. “Distant? Cold? Constantly exploding?”

He barked out a laugh. “No! Little but burning bright! And always there. Little Star. That is you now.”

You groaned but secretly loved it. He never dropped it after that.

He says it with pure affection every time, like he’s genuinely proud of you for just existing. Even when you’re sulking or pretending you don’t need him, he still calls you his “Little Star” with that warm, fatherly rumble.

✦ Bucky – "Kid"

It started as a throwaway line. “Watch your six, Kid,” he’d mumble on missions. But it stuck.

One day you snapped, “You know I have a name, right?”

He just smirked. “Yeah, but you’re my Kid now. Deal with it.”

When you’re having a rough time though, he softens it. “Hey, c’mon, Kid. I’ve got you.”

Simple yet caring and full of affection, just the classic protective dad nickname.

✦ Bob – "Starlight"

One night he found you sneaking onto the roof because you couldn’t sleep (again). You told him you like staring at the stars ‘cause it makes you feel small but safe.

“You’re kinda like that,” Bob shrugged. “A little starlight in a pretty messed up world.”

“That’s cheesy”, You said, a smile planted across your face.

“Yeah, but you’re smiling.”

After he saw your smile that day he never got rid of the name. You were his Starlight now, and no one could take that from him.

He mostly uses it when you’re anxious or sad. A soft reminder that even if you feel tiny and invisible, you matter to him.

✦ John – "Rookie"

John is the kinda guy who shows affection by pretending to be exasperated with you, right?

The first time you trained together, you stumbled over a move and he immediately went, “Careful, Rookie. You’ll get yourself knocked out like that.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. He’s called you “Rookie” ever since.

“I’ve literally been on, like, twenty missions now." You protested.

He shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. You’re still my Rookie.”

Playful, but there’s this protective edge to it.

He uses it when you mess up, when he’s teasing you, but also when he’s proud. Like if you pull something impressive, he’ll smirk and say, “That’s my Rookie.”

When you’re upset? A quiet: “Hey. C’mon, Rookie. You’re tougher than this.”

✦ Ava – "Ghostling"

You mastered sneaking up on people at the compound, sometimes even managing to scare her, which she refused to admit.

“You’re like a little ghost,” she muttered once.

You smirked. “Ghostling, maybe?”

She raised an eyebrow but accepted it. It became a secret thing just between the two of you.

She’ll mutter it quietly when she’s proud or when you need comfort.

When she’s teasing you: “C’mon, Ghostling. You’re losing your touch.”

When she’s serious: “I see you, Ghostling. You’re not invisible to me.”

Ava doesn’t give out nicknames lightly, but you cracked her shell, and now it’s her little way of showing affection.

✦ Yelena – "Mouse"

You tried to sneak a cookie off her plate once. Big mistake.

“You move like a tiny mouse,” she said, feigning annoyance but actually loving it.

"A mouse?", you question.

“You squeak. You sneak. You steal my snacks. Mouse.”

You were horrified but now it’s stuck.

Whenever you try to act tough: “Shhh, Mouse. Go squeak somewhere else.”

But when you’re sad: “Hey, Mouse. I’m here, yes? You can tell me.”

Pure teasing but it softens in quiet moments.

She acts like she uses it to rile you up, but it’s become something she says gently when you need her.

∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗∗ ࣪ ˖༺ ♡ ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

Hope you guys liked it! I'll turn on my requests in case anyone had the same problems as me and I'll try to fulfill your wishes! <3

[mirrored-muse]

How about:

Reader and Shauna have some things going on between them but they keep it on the low since Shauna spiraled down with the hunts and is purely power drunk as an Antler Queen.

ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ | ꜱ.ꜱ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 823 (blurb)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: During the day, Shauna belongs to the wilderness—but at night, she belongs to you.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Shauna Shipman x Gn! reader

ᴀ/ɴ: Hi, sorry for being inactive for like half of last month, I had a lot going on. 😭

The hunts have changed her. You see it in her shoulders, how they square a little tighter each time she walks back into camp wearing blood that isn’t hers. You hear it in her voice when she speaks and people actually listen now, not because they want to, but because they’re afraid of what happens if they don’t.

She’s always been sharp. Always had a bite. But now, it’s different. She doesn’t just hold the knife, she is the knife.

And yet, somehow, when the fire dies down and the girls start drifting off to whatever sleep looks like in this hellscape, she finds her way to you.

You sit in the corner of your hut, sketching in the dull light of a dying candle. Branches. Bone. Sometimes her. You don’t think she’s noticed that part.

“You’re up,” she says, voice low, almost bored.

“You’re back late.”

Shauna shrugs off her coat like it’s made of someone else’s skin. Maybe it is. You don’t ask. You haven’t asked in a long time. That kind of honesty died somewhere between the first snow and the second body.

Her hands are stained, dried blood under her nails, smeared on her forearms. She doesn’t bother washing them before coming to you.

“You missed dinner,” she says, though there’s a flicker in her eyes that says she knows why.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

She looks at you for a second too long. Then she walks over and sits beside you like it’s nothing. Like she didn’t just order someone to die three days ago and no one blinked.

Her thigh presses against yours. She smells like smoke and iron.

“Show me what you were drawing,” she says, eyes flicking toward the page.

You hesitate. Not because you don’t want her to see, but because most of the page is her. The sharp angle of her jaw. Her expression right before she tells someone to run. The antler crown. The hunger in her eyes.

She tilts her head when you don’t move, a slow, calculated lean that says she’ll get her way eventually.

You let her see.

Shauna doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t mock or deflect. She just studies the page with this unreadable calm, like she’s searching for something in your lines.

“This how you see me?” she asks after a moment. Her voice is flat, but you can feel the tension winding through it.

You nod once. “Sometimes.”

She hums like she doesn’t know what to do with that. Then she leans in, pressing her lips just under your jaw, slow and bruising. Not sweet. Not soft.

“I can’t have them knowing about this,” she murmurs like that’s the part that matters. Not the way your hands always find her in the dark. Not the way she breathes a little steadier when you kiss her neck.

You nod again because you already know. She’s the Antler Queen now. The wilderness listens to her, or so she says. So they say. But the real power is fear.

“Wouldn’t want to ruin your image,” you say, dry and sarcastic.

She pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not.” You flip the page in your sketchbook. Blank. “I just don’t know why we bother if we can’t even—”

“Because I need you,” she cuts in, voice sharper than before. “Not them. You. That’s why.”

Your chest aches in a way that makes you feel stupid.

“You don’t act like it.”

Shauna exhales through her nose and reaches for your wrist, her fingers curling around it, firm but not cruel.

“They think I’m some goddamn prophet now. Like I hear the trees or some shit,” she says, and there’s something ugly behind her voice, some twist of resentment she hasn’t let herself voice aloud before.

“And you don’t?”

She stares at you. “I hear you. That’s the only voice that doesn’t make me want to crawl out of my skin.”

You’re quiet. Because what are you supposed to say to that?

She kisses you again, harder this time, like she’s trying to make you forget every fucked-up thing she’s done since the crash.

You kiss her back maybe because you’re weak, because you love her, because no matter how far she slips into whatever version of herself the wilderness has created, she always comes back to you.

Later, when you’re lying side by side on your makeshift bedroll that barely counts as a bed, she pulls your hand into her lap and traces the scars on your knuckles.

“You can’t leave,” she says, not a request.

“I know.”

“You won’t leave.”

You hesitate but nod your head anyway.

“I won’t.”

Shauna closes her eyes like that’s the only answer she’s been waiting for.

“They’d turn on me if they knew,” she says. “If they thought I could be soft.”

“I won’t let them.”

Her voice is small when she says it, barely audible over the wind outside “Good.”

[astonmartinii]

if you need me, let me know, gonna be around [mamma mia part seven] | formula one social media au

drivers: sebastian vettel, fernando alonso & fernando alonso

flo has finally given y/n the experience of motherhood, but she’ll never forget about her overgrown kids

MAMMA MIA MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and 1,934,033 others

tagged: jensonbutton

yourusername: venturing out from christmas hibernation and adding to the already overflowing collection of teddies. oh, and getting pics like that of jens while he's out "having a job"

view all comments

user1: i am a simple woman, i see dilf jenson, i lose all sense of reality

user2: gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

jensonbutton: oh wow who is that handsome specimen on the last slide?

sebastianvettel: the man who carelessly abandoned his family !!!

fernandoalo_oficial: a man who couldn't handle that i was the best driver in the family

jensonbutton: what ???

sebastianvettel: i'm sorry... is that the ghost of the man we once knew

jensonbutton: i'm not dead

fernandoalo_oficial: to me you are

yourusername: okay guys ... the bit is up !! we do miss you jense but we're happy you're happy :)

sebastianvettel: sure.... well at least you won't try and worm your way into the crochet club

fernandoalo_oficial: as long as you still come to some of my races :)

user3: glad to see parenthood has not changed these fools

charles_leclerc: why do my selfies never make the instagram :(

yourusername: charlie, if i posted every time you sent me a picture of you crying that's all my instagram would be

charles_leclerc: but ........ i thought i was your favourite

yourusername: you know i don't have a favourite

charles_leclerc: sure if that's what you want to tell yourself

maxverstappen1: we all know you say that to not hurt charlie's feelings because i'm your favourite

fernandoalo_oficial: you people are so dramatic

maxverstappen1: says you old man, i can scroll up you know

sebastianvettel: well you're all second to flo

charles_leclerc: she's disqualified from this competition, she's your actual child you have to say she's your favourite

jensonbutton: it's more who annoys us the least

user4: 2024 and nothing has changed here

sebastianvettel

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,045,388 others

sebastianvettel: love being miles away, missing my baby and getting a running commentary of how my "grid kids" are terrorising y/n

view all comments

user7: seb is on a mission to pick up every dad hobby ever. first beekeeping and now sailing

user8: don't forget the gardening and the crochet

user9: he's collecting the infinity stones of dilfism

yourusername: a full eight hours of sleep looks so good on you

sebastianvettel: so i don't look good all the time 🤨

yourusername: of course you do handsome. me and flo miss you :((

sebastianvettel: don't say that i miss you all so much

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe that's your sign to come home?

jensonbutton: yeah i think you should listen to the universe seb, you like all that crystal and salt of the earth stuff

yourusername: sebbbbbbbbb :(((((

sebastianvettel: STOP

user10: they are so precious to me

yourusername: no but seriously if i have to teach another grid kid how to iron i might lose my mind

charles_leclerc: ummmmm stop blasting me on main?

yourusername: learn to iron then

sebastianvettel: you still don't know how to iron? i thought i taught you in 2019?

charles_leclerc: clearly not well enough !! and y/n please name and shame the others so i'm not alone

yourusername: @landonorris @logansargeant sorry

landonorris: WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU Y/N? I CALLED YOU IN CONFIDENCE

logansargeant: i don't have any excuse, thank you for the lesson y/n :)

jensonbutton: at least one of our kids is well mannered

charles_leclerc: i am well mannered, sorry i love my grid mum and her kid. i do semi-know how to iron but needed an excuse to see flo :(

user11: free my girl from these incompetent men

mickschumacher

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoao_oficial and 921,743 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thanks nurse y/n and nurse flo for helping me - sorry about your mug

view all comments

user12: the plaster :((((((((

jensonbutton: IT WAS YOU WHO BROKE MY I <3 NASCAR DILFS MUG

mickschumacher: sorry !

jensonbutton: nuh uh mister @sebastianvettel sort your kid out

sebastianvettel: mick said he was sorry jenson, leave him be

jensonbutton: but when lando put the rubbish in the wrong recycling he had to go litter picking with you I WANT A NEW MUG

yourusername: you guys know they aren't actually your kids, you can't put them in time out

yourusername: you can barely put your own child in time out

fernandoalo_oficial: she's too cute i don't want to make her cry

landonorris: but it's fine to make me cry?

fernandoalo_oficial: yes. in fact, it's quite fun

landonorris: Y/N!!!!

yourusername: okay, babies let's all put the phones down for this evening.

user13: nooooo y/n please i could watch these idiots argue all day

yourusername: the main thing is that your finger is all okay and that you got a cute plaster out of it

mickschumacher: i very much love my lil cat finger

yourusername: so does flo, i think you might be stuck doing puppet shows for the forseeable future

mickschumacher: anything for miss flo

user14: mamma mia family dynamics you are everything to me

fernandoalo_oficial: why did mick get a kitty plaster and i got told to do it myself :(

yourusername: because you're a grown man and you injured yourself by tripping with darts in your hands

fernandoalo_oficial: mick is a grown man - HE CAN VOTE just because he needs seb's help with the paperwork does not change that

mickschumacher: you said yourself they are confusing !!

sebastianvettel: ignore him mick

fernandoalo_oficial: booooooooo

user15: i know these men provide the best entertainment for flo even if she doesn't understand a word they're saying

yourusername: she finds them very entertaining which then starts a competition to who can make her laugh the most

yourusername

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 1,447,734

tagged: alexalbon, lilymunhe

yourusername: sometimes even my most competent grid kid needs some help, happy anniversary alex and lily x

view all comments

user16: UGH this is so cute

alexalbon: grid mum or emotional support retail assistant?

lilymunhe: so how much of the heartfelt gift was really you

alexalbon: 90% !!! i swear

yourusername: it was all alex he just needed the support (idk he said that jewellery shops are stressful)

alexalbon: they are !! i don't know how big fingers are :(

lilymunhe: thank you y/n wouldn't want the 27 year old man to get lost at the mall

yourusername: no worries, i somehow gained at least 15 extra children along with flo, i just go with it. he's less hassle than charles and max

charles_leclerc: rude.

maxverstappen1: gasp!

user17: i love how much y/n has really embraced the grid mum life

user18: i don't think she had much choice 😭

user19: the way she's like "oh i'll help you all with anything you need" and takes flo on all of these side missions and the guys just leave them to die 😭

user20: they're such dad's who don't want the cat but end up attached but don't want to show it

jensonbutton: wait which one of us claim alex? is it me? why was i not invited?

alexalbon: ur my williams dad :) and i think this trip needed a woman's touch (and flo's touch obvs)

jensonbutton: rude i give great gifts

fernandoalo_oficial: considering he's one of the least feral and has lily, i want to claim alex

sebastianvettel: i have too many kids you guys can have alex

alexalbon: sebastian! did our gardening afternoons mean nothing ?

lilymunhe: we'll take it nando

sebastianvettel: did you or did you not just make it a competition with george to see who could plant potatoes the fastest and then make a mess of my vegetable garden

georgerussell63: GUILTY

yourusername: soz but you all have to claim all of them, my rules now

user21: y/n and flo going to rule that house with an iron fist

fernandoalo_oficial

liked by yourusername, jensonbutton and 1,309,244 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

fernandoalo_oficial: glad to be back on the podium, but even more proud to call you my grid kid. we all love you, especially flo :)

view all comments

user24: THEY HAVE MATCHING MIFFY PLUSHIES

user25: miffy is dutch so that might be why max got them matching ones :)

yourusername: and flo is surgically attached to her miffy (she has named her maxi, even if she can barely say it)

maxverstappen1: you are one of my heroes and it was a pleasure to share the podium with you. there's no one else in the world i'd love to dedicate my podium to than lil mia x

fernandoalo_oficial: you've got me crying again

maxverstappen1: get it all out old man

fernandoalo_oficial: already back to the old man 🤨 i guess i'll take the nice messages while i can

user26: nando getting all mushy is so cute i can't believe this is where we are

charles_leclerc: let it be known that if i had a car fast enough i would also dedicate a win to flo, but for now she'll have to settle for a song

fernandoalo_oficial: is silvia going to kill you? because seb and y/n might kill me if they get your ass over this

charles_leclerc: but it's true, no?

fernandoalo_oficial: you will not trick me into slandering my old team charlie

maxverstappen1: LOL YOU SNOOZE YOU LOSE

charles_leclerc: YOU KNEW THAT WAS MY IDEA THIEF

sebastianvettel: charles why am i getting a call from silvia?

maxverstappen1: LOL

charles_leclerc: brb just going to lourdes

jensonbutton: lol way to get outshined by your kid

fernandoalo_oficial: at least i was in the position to be outshined by my kid

jensonbutton: ERGH you know you can't bring that up

fernandoalo_oficial: you said that you couldn't wait to get away from us

jensonbutton: oop.

yourusername: my wonderful boys!

maxverstappen1: :D

fernandoalo_oficial: i love you both :)

maxverstappen1: awww thanks nando

fernandoalo_oficial: i meant y/n and flo but sure love you too buddy

yourusername

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, jensonbutton and 1,610,449 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: maxy, this means more than you could know, flo very much enjoyed watching 'blu' go fast :)

view all comments

user27: is this family going to make me cry? maybe.

user28: side note, how many animal onesies does flo have they're so cute

user29: she's like a lil teddy bear

maxverstappen1: glad to have officially won the title of flo's favourite brother

charles_leclerc: NOT SO FAST MISTER

maxverstappen1: maybe if you were faster you would've dedicated a win to flo :P

charles_leclerc: LOW BLOW

danielricciardo: don't even get me started on the daniel ricciardo erasure

maxverstappen1: shush daniel let the problem children talk

charles_leclerc: yeah daniel, problem children only

sebastianvettel: should we intervene?

yourusername: no, i'm intrigued as to where this is going to go

jensonbutton: i for one love watching these dummies fight

fernandoalo_oficial: let me get my popcorn

maxverstappen1: are we just entertainment to you?

jensonbutton: yes!

charles_leclerc: the minute flo can talk ASK HER WHO IS HER FAVOURITE

sebastianvettel: sure?

user30: they can never ask that question, one of them might never recover

maxverstappen1: for real though, i love you guys and i love flo. i'll send nando home with the trophy as well :)

yourusername: awwww thank you maxy :) @sebastianvettel @fernandoalo_oficial @jensonbutton new shelf needed please

jensonbutton: i'll leave this one to "the woodwork king"

sebastianvettel: am i the only one who does anything in this house?

fernandoalo_oficial: you can't be called the woodwork king and not do the work

yourusername: you don't even let them help seb

sebastianvettel: UGH.

jensonbutton

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 912,774 others

tagged: yourusername, danielricciardo

jensonbutton: day 4,000+ of losing our actual girlfriend to our overgrown kids

view all comments

user31: PICTURE OF DANNY WITH FLO ALERT ALERT

yourusername: not my fault you guys picked up so many stray cats while in the sport

jensonbutton: i only claim lando and alex, the rest are the others' faults

yourusername: i know you love it really

jensonbutton: not when the little tornadoes hit our house, eat all of our food and steal my baby

danielricciardo: whoops

jensonbutton: and terrorise my pets DANIEL

danielricciardo: they terrorise each other jenson, maybe they aren't as well trained as you thought

yourusername: oh god...

jensonbutton: HOW DARE YOU !!!! BECKETT, SALMON AND CREAM CHEESE ARE VERY WELL TRAINED AND WELL BEHAVED

user32: old men are going crazy we love to see it

sebastianvettel: are we a bed and breakfast?

yourusername: i fear so. you need to run back from whatever ocean you are in we are low on staff now jenson is back racing. flo might be cute but she's a liability in the kitchen

fernandoalo_oficial: maybe we should just kick them out

yourusername: noooo :( not my babies

fernandoalo_oficial: can we at least charge them?

maxverstappen1: you people are the most stingy millionaires i have ever met

charles_leclerc: i pay you in piano sorry

yourusername: don't listen to them boys, flo and i love having you over

user33: so like is there any way we could open the mamma mia bed and breakfast to the public

fernandoalo_oficial: why do the grid kids see our family more than us?

yourusername: come home more often then :(

fernandoalo_oficial: i'm working on it the plane is delayed :(

jensonbutton: personally i would just run home but that's just me

sebastianvettel: i would simply just walk on water

fernandoalo_oficial: shut up. see you later

yourusername: yay !!!!

fin.

note: writer's block has really been beating my ass so there's always mamma mia to get it flowing again. i'm still working on requests, hopefully they'll come along a little faster now! also - i started an instagram for my small business i am opening it's @badlydrawnf1cats, feel free to follow x

edit: mamma mia will return

taglist: @boiohboii @vellicora @faithm120601 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @luv4kani @eugene-emt-roe @magical-spit @ironmaiden1313 @jaydaaasworld @whoreks @rainerax @nonsensical-nonsence @laneyspaulding19 @chelseyyouraverageluigi @lxclerc @gemofthenight @woweewoowa @tagteamedbitch@imagandom@mypage-myfandoms@mehrmonga@asparklysoul @unstableplant @motorsp0rt@multilovebot@lili-flower03 @its-elias-world @jolixtreesunn@nothingfuninthislife@rileynicol3@kodzuvk@mochimommy2002@fluffyspaceprincess@roseseraj@black-swan-blog27@nyrasslut@justdreamersdream@asfaraslifegets@why4anne@ineffableperson@leilanixx@lunyyx @pupbistro @gaypoetsblog@rafaaoli@champomiel@sadsierra2 @rainerax @lokietro @thecubanator2 @nzygftoji @rockyhayzkid @nmw-am @slytherheign @erikasurfer @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @greigreyhiyyih @duck-duck-goose-18 @dark-night-sky-99 @ironcowboycopnickel @sizzlingghostoperatorbagel @2bormaybenot @42ndbrokencompass @whotfisvale @lichterfee @sticksdoesart @glitterf1 @turn-around-look-at-what-you-see @lighttsoutlewis @tagteamedbitch @glow-ish @sadg3 @kagatinkita @litoriaxu

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[handlemehyuck]

LEAVE A MESSAGE AFTER THE BEEP for boyfriend dreamies

♡a voicemail for mark˚ ⋆。

“i keep listening to songs i haven’t heard in forever, not since i was a kid or teenager, and they transport me back to that time. suddenly, i’m wearing pink converse and jean shorts and the t-shirt from my summer play. it’s saturday, and i’m sitting on the stairs waiting for my friend to arrive, sunlight all over the walls. we wanted to have a sleepover, but there’s church in the morning, so she’ll stay as late as she can, probably until we’re dozing off on the couch watching one of the dvds she brought. naturally, i have to think about you because music wraps around your life in a way it never will for me. we’ve probably talked about this. maybe the conversation took a different shape before, but what’s a song that takes you back? what’s a time you miss and revisit through music? do you have time to think about those things? your life is go go go, and i’ve made silly wishes on eyelashes about peering into your head. i’m a reminiscer, and i know not everyone is, but you’re a creative. you’re a writer—music wraps around your life in a special way, so the idea of nostalgia visiting rarely seems unrealistic? but i guess i can’t know until you tell me. i see it often. i see it when i’m out without my glasses. the distant view is blurry, and suddenly, there i am, riding a bike, pink converse on. what shows up in your blurry nostalgia view?”

♡a voicemail for renjun˚ ⋆。

“babyyyy, i had the best time tonight. i feel like i’m covered in stars. areum’s parents have this sprawling backyard, so we collected a bunch of blankets, packed a picnic basket, and stayed out for hours beneath the most beautiful willow tree i’ve ever seen. i wore linen pants and a bikini top—your favorite one. i had a cardigan too, just in case, but the weather was perfect. i really needed to get out of the city. i know you know that, and i wanted to call you because… hmm sometimes i feel like my life is strung together by reminders. reminders of you and other people and things i love. reminders of our beginnings and all the sweet milestones along the way. i think my love could light up all the stars, more stars than i could ever see with my own eyes, enough stars to make a path between your hometown and my own. i’ll bring you back a jar of stardust. it’ll be empty… you’ll think it’s empty. sometimes magical things are invisible, or they just glow in the dark. anyway, it’s late, like 3 am, and i’m honestly glad you didn’t answer. as badly as i want to hear your voice, you should be asleep. i hope this voicemail makes you smile in the morning. i’ll send you some pictures too. see you on sunday. MWAH kisses *giggles*.”

♡a voicemail for jeno˚ ⋆。

“i’m going to my mom’s tomorrow, and i keep thinking about the drive. i rented a car… you know all of this already, but i guess it’s just present in my mind again. i’m staring at my luggage right now, and the entire thing feels wrong. i’m sorry if this sounds horrible, but i’m so used to you leaving. i’ve gotten really good at that. i’m good at being alone. i made sure i love my apartment and feel at home in it when you’re away because i’d fully unravel or find myself at your place more often than i already am if didn’t love it… stopping by to water all of those plants you don’t actually have. anyway, yeah… it just feels weird. i feel like you should be coming. i keep thinking about driving together: which one of us would pump the gas? who would run inside for snacks? what would we talk about in the car? would you drive halfway or drive all the way because you know i’d rather not if the option’s available to me? i know i’ll be fine. i’ve driven long ways on my own before, but it’ll be weird. i’ll be in a guest room. i don’t know what color the comforter is. i don’t know if i’ll like the sheets. my mom knows i’m weird and particular, but will she remember that when she’s fluffing up the pillows? what will i do when i can’t sleep? i love my mom. i haven’t seen her in months, but i close my eyes and daydream about being with you. i yearn for you in the stickiest of ways. it probably falls off of me too and hangs thickly in the air, gets stuck to the bottom of people’s shoes. i’d apologize if i knew, but i’m all caught up on you you you... i’m saying all of this, but i know this trip will be good for me. i know i’m not dependent on you, but last year was one of your busiest yet. and pride isn’t a question—i’ll spend my entire life being proud of you, but i can’t pretend there weren’t nights when the missing was so palpable i couldn’t sleep, so i read or baked bread or watched my toes wrinkle in the bath. it would be good for me to sleep at my mom’s, wake up to a new view, share breakfast, and simple conversation. i know i need the rest. i know everything will be fine.”

♡a voicemail for haechan˚ ⋆。

“if you told me the grass and the trees and the streets are all white, i would believe you. it’s like a blizzard out there. i’ve never seen so much white in my entire life. honestly, it’s kind of freaking me out, making me feel claustrophobic. i look up at the sky, back down again, and nothing changes, apart from the shapes and the saving grace of traffic lights—at least their colors are still clear. could we get by with just green, red and yellow for the rest of our lives?… some food for thought. anyway, it’s snowing *laughs*. i’m on my… third? tea after a few hot chocolates as well. no food so far today, just warm drinks. last time it snowed, you made kimchi jjigae and we ate in front of the window. do you remember that? we brought over my coffee table and the pot, bowls, and rice… i stopped listening to your story, all zeroed in on a snowflake. i didn’t look away until you kissed my neck. that’s quite a dangerous superpower: you have me at will with kisses, but i trust you with my weakest point... it wouldn’t be the same if i make kimchi jjigae and eat in front of the window without you. i should sit at the dining room table or maybe even the kitchen island—give myself a break from all the white. hopefully, i can still see you tomorrow. maybe you can kiss my neck again and tend to a few of my other weaker points… i love you.”

♡a voicemail for jaemin˚ ⋆。

“i want you to come over right now, and i know that you can’t. i also know that i might not see you for a couple of days, but i want to do nothing with you. i wish it didn’t feel silly… or embarrassing to want. i don’t know why wanting is so uncomfortable for me to share, especially because i’ve wanted loudly with you already, over and over again… but i guess i just wanted you to know. i painted my nails and went to the grocery store and chopped bell peppers because if they’re already prepped i know i’ll be more likely to eat them. i hung up some pictures in my room, and i kept thinking about you when i’d step back to make sure each one was straight. you would’ve done that part for me. i want to do everything together, and i don’t want you to feel bad because we can’t. that’s not why i’m leaving you this. i just know how happy it makes me feel when you express your want for me, in small ways, in spontaneous ways, in sexy ways… in uncomfortable ways, when you just want to be held, when you just need me to listen… it never ends with you. it never ends with me. we’re these entities that constantly move together and around each other, and i know i can get where i need to go without you, but it’s so much more fun when you’re here, and we’re in motion together. i’m making tea, and i think i’m going to drink it on the balcony. i’ll have to put socks on and a coat, but i want to hear the traffic noise and look down at people by themselves or in groups walking around and existing. i was existing for a long time. i felt really disconnected from living, but i knew i wanted to—to feel like i was living again. i just wasn’t quite sure how to get back to that place, but i was starting to figure it out when we met. on our first date, i felt like i struck gold. it was in your smile and your laughter, and this feeling that embraced me because all of a sudden i wasn’t nervous. i had only said your name out loud three times, but it felt so comfortable in my mouth. i remember leaving and whispering it to myself over and over again, and i couldn’t help but hope it would become a name i’d say for the rest of my life. so i’m going to drink my tea and enjoy this beautiful city we live in. i’m going to fold laundry and plan dinner. i’m going to think of you and get excited about the next night we fall asleep together.”

♡a voicemail for chenle˚ ⋆。

“i made it through the list of movies you left me. that sticky note is cute by the way. i like the border of little bears wearing scarves. where’d you get it? i almost threw it out on accident yesterday when i was cleaning my kitchen. now it’s living on my fridge. i taped it down on every side so my cleaning, autopilot fingers can’t attempt a second disposal… when you get this, i’d love some more movies. i’d ask for a horror film, but the idea of watching anything scary without you sounds worse than unclogging the shower drain or some other unpleasant household chore. oh! i went out this morning with chaewon, and she’s dating someone new. i started talking about hosting a dinner before i could really think it through. would you host another one with me? no pressure. chaewon told me not to even mention it to you, something about bad luck… she needs to wait a couple months before bringing them around all of our friends—has to pass 60 days of dating. there’s something romantic about a dinner party to me, though. maybe it’s just the wholesome quality time with my favorite people and knowing you’re only a look away. i don’t know if you remember, but you would always trail your fingertip up and down the back of my arm and kiss my cheek every time you got up, never wanting to interrupt the conversation but noticing the glasses in need of more wine. *groan* everything you do turns me on… ridiculous. do you even have a clue? no, i know you do. *sigh* g’night sunshine.”

♡a voicemail for jisung˚ ⋆。

“that fight was gross. i had to shower as soon as i got home, and the clothes i was wearing are already in the washing machine. are you ok? i know we tried to make it pretty again, but it felt ugly even at the end, and your eyes were so red. i hate seeing you cry. i love it actually… seeing your emotions, but never when it’s like that. i was so close to going to your favorite restaurant and picking us up something, but i know you need some time. but, if you listen to this, you can text me if you’re hungry, and i will go to your favorite restaurant. i can leave the food outside or just in the entryway, unless you’re crying again when i get there. then, i will take off my shoes and hug you, and i won’t stop until you at least hug me back. i’m so sorry. i don’t… most of the time i don’t feel insecure, but sometimes it comes out, and it takes this ugly shape that looks alien to me. i hope it looks alien to you too. i don’t want to be that way often enough for it to become familiar. tell me if it ever does. the idea alone makes me feel sick to my stomach. please text me at least. ok. dammit, i don’t want to hang up. i keep thinking you’ll pick up—”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Lonely in Misery

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here: Lonelier in Misery

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!paramedic!reader

Summary: Bailey notices that you're lonely and miserable while Nolan notices the same about Tim. They decide to set you up on a blind date, but it only ends with more sadness.

Warnings: mention of motorcycle accident, pure fluff (the title and summary are misleading, my bad)

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: @newobsessionweekly here's some soft Tim if you're interested🥰

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Let’s go!” your chief calls. “Motorcycle accident on Wilshire.”

You nod as you gather your equipment. Being a paramedic is stressful, but you work with an amazing team. It’s too bad you don’t have the same kind of community in your personal life. Working with your best friends is great until you can’t hang out or talk to anyone because they’re on different shifts.

“Single rider?” you ask as you climb into the ambulance.

“Dispatch didn’t say. Only called for one ambulance, so I assume,” your chief replies.

“Hey, maybe it’ll be a single guy and you can nurse him back to health and finally get a date,” your teammate in the driver’s seat jokes.

“Ignore him,” Bailey says, rolling her eyes.

“Ignore who?” you tease.

As the BLS rescue ambulance pulls out, you sit back in your seat.

“Are you okay?” Bailey asks softly.

“Fine,” you reply. “Just… I don’t know.”

“I get it. We, uh, we haven’t been able to hang out in a while. What have you been up to?”

“Nothing. Work, eat, workout, sleep, repeat.”

“Yeah, you’ve been kind of mopey.” She reaches her hand toward you and smiles when you lay your hand in hers. “This job is hard enough without being lonely. Why don’t you go on a date or just go hang out somewhere, meet somebody?”

You shake your head and brush off her concern with a half-true promise, “I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to when our schedules give us time to be friends again. If I can get out away from Nolan, of course.”

Bailey smiles and rolls her eyes but squeezes your hand reassuringly. You know she isn’t convinced that you’re fine. Your job is more important, though, so you decide to focus on the motorcycle rider who needs your help rather than the empty home, the empty life you’ll go home to after your shift ends.

“Hey!” Tim yells harshly. “Socialize on your own time, boot!”

His new rookie ducks his head and walks quickly after abandoning his conversation. Tim has been grumpier than usual lately, and he’s taking it out on everyone in the station. When he yelled at Sergeant Grey, who only shook his head and told Tim to take a breather, Nolan knew what was happening.

“He’s lonely, right?” Nolan asks Angela.

“Incredibly,” she answers without hesitation. “It’s been worse, though, so his sports buddies must have gotten busy, married, something.”

Nolan nods. He has an idea, but he knows better than to suggest Tim go on a date where he could overhear or be told. As he walks toward his shop, Nolan makes a mental note to ask Bailey if she knows anyone who would be willing to go on a date with Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.

“Do I look like I care about your engagement party?” Tim asks across the garage.

“Hey,” Nolan says as he walks into the house.

“Hi,” Bailey replies.

Nolan hugs Bailey and sighs against her.

“I need your help with something,” Bailey says.

“Anything,” Nolan replies as he steps back. “But I need a favor, too.”

“My best friend is lonely and needs a date.”

Nolan’s brows raise as he adds, “My coworker is lonely and needs a date.”

“Did we just plan a blind date in under thirty seconds? Are we really that good?”

“Depends. Is your friend interested in someone like Tim Bradford?”

Bailey considers the pairing for a moment but smiles as she pictures you balancing Tim and him providing an edge that you haven’t experienced in years.

“Oh, yeah,” Bailey decides. “She’ll be interested.”

“Great! Now I just have to convince him to actually go on the date,” Nolan muses.

“Good luck.” Bailey laughs before she realizes, “I have to get her to let me set her up too.”

“Well, if she’s anything like Tim, appeal to her misery.”

“Yeah, because it’s better than absolutely nothing and complete unhappiness is the perfect way to pitch a date,” Bailey scoffs. “I’ll get my friend there, and you convince Tim your way.”

“I hope this works,” they say together.

“What’d you do last night?” Bailey asks as you exit the locker room.

You step back in surprise at being ambushed the moment you arrive but recover quickly. “I made dinner, watched a movie, and went to bed. Why?”

“Because you’ve got a date tonight, so we’re switching it up.”

“Bailey,” you begin.

“No, no, hear me out before you decline. Please? I’m doing this as your best friend, I promise.”

“Okay,” you sigh. “Pitch this guy. But, Bailey Nune, if you say it’s Nolan’s brother Pete I will find a new best friend.”

“Oh, no. I love you, I would never do that. Besides, the whole point of a blind date is that I don’t tell you the guy’s name. But…” She raises her finger to emphasize as she adds, “Nolan and I both know him well and he’s a great guy.”

“You’re gonna have to give me more. I don’t want to go on a date just to say that I didn’t spend another night alone, Bailey.”

“Completely. I know you, though, okay, and this guy he’s- he can do and be everything you want. The romance, the connection, the best friend that is also your life partner, what you are looking for in a guy, this is it. I promise. And, if I’m wrong, I’ll bail you out of the date and I will clean your equipment for the rest of the month.”

You purse your lips as you think about her offer. She does know exactly what you want in a man, and you trust Bailey’s judgement. “Fine. I’ll go on the date.”

“Yes!” Bailey cheers as she hugs you. “I’m so glad. You’ll feel so much better after you’re not miserable and lonely anymore.”

“You should’ve been a motivational speaker,” you deadpan. “Now don’t mention it again until we get off. This can’t be the topic of conversation for the rest of the day; I’ll never live it down.”

“I’ll stay quiet and think of the perfect outfit for you,” Bailey says as she follows you into the heart of the station.

“Officer Bradford,” Nolan calls as he walks across the bullpen.

“Yeah?” Tim asks.

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Or a question, idea, whatever you want to call it.”

“Then spit it out, Nolan.”

“Right, yes, sir. Bailey has a single friend, and we want to set you up on a blind date.”

Tim’s face remains impassive as he shakes his head. “Pass. Ask Aaron.”

“No, Tim, I’m asking you.”

“And I’m not interested,” Tim argues.

“Look, you’re lonely and miserable, so you’re making all of us miserable. I know you – sort of – and I know this woman. She could be really good for you.”

“If you’re wrong? Because I think you are.��

“Then leave the date! You’re not losing anything more than a few hours.”

Tim takes a deep breath before he asks, “Why do you think she’d be good for me?”

“She can be the balance that you need, and she understands some of what we deal with daily.”

“Don’t tell me she’s a lawyer.”

“Oh, no, I know better than that. So… is that a yes?”

“It’s a hesitant yes,” Tim answers. “When?”

“Tonight.”

Tim nods once before he walks away to reprimand a rookie. Nolan watches him yell and hopes that he and Bailey are right. Because if they’re wrong and the date goes poorly, Tim will be worse in the morning.

You sit in the front of the restaurant and await your date. Bailey said he’d arrive after you. She never explained how you were supposed to find each other, though. As you watch people come and go, you grow discouraged. You shift your attention from the door to your hands. Several minutes pass before the door opens again, and you look up but don’t expect anything.

“Tim?” you ask.

You’ve seen Tim Bradford several times in passing. At wrecks, crime scenes, and various Los Angeles law enforcement meetings. He’s always been kind to you, and you remember that you may have mentioned finding him attractive to Bailey before.

“I’ll assume you’re my blind date, then,” Tim replies. He smiles as he adds, “I’m not as disappointed as I expected to be.”

“Wow,” you say through laughter. “If I’d known you were such a flirt, I would’ve asked Bailey to set us up sooner.”

Tim shakes his head, and you join his side as he gives his name to the hostess. As you walk to the table, a sudden awkwardness descends. There’s no good way to begin a conversation on a blind date, you realize. Tim taps his hand against the menu but looks similarly lost about what to say.

“I guess being lonely and desperate worked in my favor,” you joke.

“Oh, I can guarantee that I was lonelier and more desperate,” Tim replies. “Nolan used that to convince me to come tonight; said I was making everyone else miserable with my misery.”

The mood lightens with your playful jokes, and you smile at Tim.

“Since you’ve had to pull an arson suspect off me before, should we skip the small talk?” you ask Tim over your menu. “Or do this the normal way?”

“There’s nothing normal about this,” Tim comments.

Your phone buzzes in your bag, but the Are you still miserable? text from Bailey goes unread.

“Okay, I hate this,” you murmur as you set the menu aside. “Can I just sit beside you?”

Tim’s smile grows as he stands and offers his hand. Once you’re seated beside him, where you don’t have to lean across the table to talk, you don’t even remember the miserable feeling that led Bailey to set this date up.

Tim leans over to whisper, “I’m glad I agreed to the date,” and you move closer to him as you answer, “Me too.”

As you walk out of the restaurant with your hand in Tim’s and a joyful smile on your face, you don’t want the night to end.

“Same time next week?” you ask as Tim slows.

“What about the same time another day this week?” he suggests. “I had a great time, and I want to go out again. If that’s what you want, of course.”

You pull your phone out and hand it to Tim, ignoring Bailey’s text. He puts his number in and texts himself, so he has your number, too. You grow giddy, something you thought was a thing of your past.

“I think this is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you tell Tim as you begin walking again. “Thank you.”

“Nolan and Bailey are gonna take credit if we tell them the blind date worked,” Tim points out.

“Yeah,” you agree, drawing out the word. “But I don’t think I can hide how happy tonight made me. Not from Bailey, at least.”

Tim nods like he understands as you stop. You turn to face him, and he raises the hand that isn’t in yours to hold your cheek. There isn’t a question or doubt in your mind as you kiss Tim. What was supposed to be a date to cheer you up and get you back out of your mundane, lonely life is already becoming so much more. As Tim releases your hand to hold you and pull you closer, your entire world brightens. Neither you nor Tim are lonely, let alone miserable, with the prospect of a new relationship with one another. You pull back when you can’t stop smiling against Tim’s lips.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

“For what?”

“All of it.”

Tim smiles and brushes his thumb under your bottom lip. “If I don’t see you before Friday, I’m looking forward to our date. And I’ll pick you up at the fire station.”

“Are you sure about that?” you question. “Bailey will tell John.”

“They’ll have to learn sooner rather than later that there’s no room for them in our relationship.”

Your smile grows at our relationship, but you lick your lips to keep your excitement from showing. “They’re both born meddlers.”

“Let’s stop talking about them,” Tim murmurs as he leans in again.

Bonus:

When you arrive home, you see the text from Bailey and answer: More miserable than you can imagine. I’m going to sleep to escape it. Sure, you left off the part about being sad because the date ended, but she’ll find out soon enough.

[penkura]

First Mother's Day

Note: I decided to do a special post in what is now my OP Men as Dads series, and do a Mother's Day headcanon/blurb post. I understand this day can be rough for some, but I hope that whether you celebrate or not, whether your mom is in your life or not, that you have a lovely day otherwise and if this isn't your cup of tea, I hope there's something else that can entertain you today. <3

If you'd like my thoughts on other OP men as dads (Shanks, Kid, Usopp, etc.), please just ask and I'll give an answer! I'll include Luffy in this despite my viewing him as a son or brother, but it probably won't be x Reader based. Requests are being worked on as well.

I am using baby Ace image to break up this and the actual content from now on lol. He's just so cute. 🥺

Ace is going to go all out for your first Mother’s Day. He’s buying flowers, candies, and cards, all from him and your daughter. Even if you tell him you don’t want anything except a quiet day at home with the two of them, he’s buying you gifts.

He’ll likely buy you a bracelet with your daughter’s name on it, or maybe a charm bracelet with her birthstone, so you can add any more in the future if/when you have more children. Ace will try to make you breakfast in bed, but he ends up burning the bacon to the point your smoke alarm goes off, and you have to open all the windows to air out the house the rest of the day (at least it’s a nice day out). He orders out breakfast from a nearby diner to make sure you have something that morning, he’ll even try to take your daughter out for a walk or to Luffy and Sabo’s place for the day to give you a break, but you insist on going along.

“You should have the day off though!”

“Ace, I don’t want a day off. Rogue is only three month’s old, and I’d much rather spend the day with you and her than alone. That’s not a fun Mother’s Day to me.”

The three of you end up at Luffy and Sabo’s place, the two uncles absolutely adoring their niece as she coos and lets them hold her without any crying or fussing. When you get home later that night, Ace watches you get Rogue ready for bed. He knew from the start that you would be a great mother, and sometimes, he just wishes his own mother was around to see it, and to meet her granddaughter.

~~

Law has a plan that gets thrown off when your son decides to be born a week earlier than expected, on Mother’s Day itself. He still tries to do something for you, even though the original plan of taking you out for brunch and giving you a quiet day at home while you waited for your baby to be born was now out the window. He should’ve known, ever since he met Luffy all his plans go haywire at some point. At least it led to you two meeting eventually.

Once you’ve gone to sleep and your son Rosi is in the nursery at the hospital, Law slips out to quickly put something together. He has a gift for you, a mother’s ring that will fit into your wedding band, he just needs flowers, or chocolate, or something to add to it. He doesn’t really like to be cliché, but he ends up with flowers, at least they’re something pretty you can have in your hospital room and when you’re released to take your baby boy home.

The girl in the hospital gift shops tells him he looks happy, even if Law doesn’t really show it. She swears it’s just something in the way he speaks while he asks her to pull together a small bouquet for you. He is happy, beyond that actually, knowing you two have a son, you both are healthy and safe. He has a family again, his very own. The flowers and ring aren’t enough to convey his gratitude to you for giving him a family to call his own, but it’s a start. There will be plenty more times for him to do so in the future.

When Law gets back to your room, you’re awake again and in the middle of nursing your son, a nurse helping you when you need it. She notices the flowers he’s brought and leaves you both with a smile, saying she’ll come back in a few minutes.

“Where’d you get off to?”

“Had to get something,” Law comes over and presses a kiss to your forehead, giving you a smile, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

~~

Penguin has thought of what to do every day since your daughter Wren was born. He’s come up with multiple ways to celebrate your first Mother’s Day, but nothing seems just right to him. He’s thought of brunch, breakfast in bed, giving you a day out with your friends while he watches your daughter, or even a weekend trip away, leaving your baby with her grandparents, but nothing works out. Restaurants and diners he calls are all booked up already, you hate eating in bed because of crumbs, your friends all had plans either with their own mothers or their spouses and kids, and your own parents were out of town for the next two weeks.

He ends up with no real plans for the day and feels terrible about it as it approaches. Its going to be another normal Sunday for the three of you, he hates the idea of that because it’s your first Mother’s Day, it should be special, shouldn’t it?

When the day finally comes around, Penguin is up first, hearing Wren’s little babbles through the baby monitor, and going to pick her up. At nine-months-old she’s figured out how to stand up on her own, still no steps being taken by herself, but when she sees Penguin enter the nursery, she grins and starts bouncing up and down, holding the rail of her crib and shouting “da” over and over. It makes Penguin smile as he picks her up, kissing her chubby cheek which makes her squeal.

“Good morning, Wren! Let’s keep quiet, mommy’s still asleep, okay?”

“Da!”

He laughs a bit, lifting her up over his head to make her giggle again, as she reaches her little hands towards his face.

“You know…a great gift would be for you to say ‘mama’ for the first time, yeah?”

“Ma?”

“Yeah, you’re close! Now, just say ‘mama’.”

Wren sticks her tongue out while she tries to speak, Penguin helping her along for several minutes until she finally says something close to ‘mama’.

“Mm…ma.”

Penguin sighs a bit, but nods as he brings Wren down and kisses her cheek again, making her giggle as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“You two sure have been having fun.”

Both look to you in the doorway, no shortage of smiles among the three of you, as Wren lights up and starts to reach for you, trying to say she wants you to hold her. You both take just a moment too long to get her to you, and it makes her fuss and kick her legs a bit.

“Ma…ma!”

You didn’t even get her in your arms, you and Penguin both freezing in place for a moment while Wren continues to fuss and whine, almost in tears since you haven’t held her yet.

“Mama!”

“I—”

“Her first word!!” You quickly take Wren from Penguin and hug her close, kissing her cheeks and forehead telling her how proud you are of your little girl. “This is the best Mother’s Day gift!”

At least that worked out, even if he didn’t have a plan in mind.

~~

Sanji wouldn’t have waited nearly a year to celebrate you as a mother if you hadn’t forced him to. With fraternal twins to now take care of and raise, you’ve both been through bouts of exhaustion and elation over the two babies you brought into the world. Sora and Angel, your precious blessings, were nearly a year old, and you’d already started planning a birthday party for them, completely ignoring the fact Mother’s Day was a few weeks prior to their turning one-year-old.

Sanji didn’t forget, he had a plan, one that included your twins scribbling away to make cards for you, though he didn’t expect the two to be so fussy about it and mark each other up more than the papers. He learned very quickly to not give babies or toddlers markers, unless they were washable. You still don’t fully realize how Sora ended up with a bright green mark over his right eye and Angel had a hot pink line down her left arm.

The rest was simple, breakfast in bed, made by your professional chef husband of course, and whatever else you wanted for the rest of the day. If you want to lay in bed and watch TV without interruption, he’d put your twins in the stroller and take them to the park. If you wanted to turn your phone off and sleep the day away, he’d take over and leave you alone until you needed anything. Whatever you want, it’s a day to celebrate you as the mother of his children, he wasn’t going to deny you anything.

But when you do tell him what you want, after finishing off breakfast, Sanji’s a bit surprised.

“Are you…sure?”

“Mm-hm,” you nod and try to keep Sora from grabbing the butter knife on the tray, making him whine while Angel slept in Sanji’s arms, “I want to spend the day with the three of you.”

“You…do that every day though, my love.”

“So?” smiling, you kiss the top of Sora’s head and watch Angel as she starts to stir awake, rubbing her eyes with her tiny hands, “You guys are my family. I hate the idea of not being with the three of you today, so I’d rather just spend it like we always do.”

Sanji nods a bit, seeming to understand, greeting Angel when she wakes up fully with a kiss to the forehead. It makes you happy to watch him with both your children, but especially your daughter. How could he ever think you’d want to spend the day alone? Not when you had these two blessings as your children and Sanji as your husband.

“We could still take these two to the park later, maybe burn off some energy so they nap at a decent time.”

“Of course! Whatever you want, my love.”

~~

Zoro doesn’t even fully realize that its Mother’s Day until Nami says something to him. The past few weeks with your son have been exhausting for both of you, but he can’t believe he forgot that this was a thing. He has nothing planned and isn’t sure what to do. He’s running out of time, it’s literally just a few hours away before Nami offers to take you out for the day wherever the Sunny docks in the morning. Zoro will stay with your son on the ship, and you’ll get a day off from being a mom and wife, the two think it’s the best thing to give you on such short notice, though Nami does up the interest on his debt again for this.

You don’t even get to say good morning to your husband or son before Nami has dragged you off to whatever she has planned, its really just a normal girl’s day out with shopping and lunch. Most of what you buy isn’t even for you, it’s baby items that you need or clothes you think are adorable. It just ended up making you miss your son more as the day went on.

When you do get back to the ship, your son is wailing and no one has been able to calm him down, not even Zoro while he tries his hardest and lightly bounces your baby as he shushes him gently. As soon as you drop your bags you’re taking him from your husband and holding him close to calm him down.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, mommy’s here, Keitaro. I’m back.”

He slowly calms down once he realizes its you, burying his little face in your shoulder and keeping a tight grip on your shirt. When you ask Zoro what the deal was with Nami dragging you off the ship so early, before you even had the chance to hold Keitaro that day, he explains the situation and it just makes you tilt your head.

“…it’s Mother’s Day?”

You hadn’t even realized it. That just makes Zoro feel bad that it caused your son such distress, and he and Nami both apologize for not talking to you about it beforehand. They both assumed the other had discussed it with you. You didn’t really care to celebrate, all that mattered was being with your husband and son, the rest of your day spent with just the two of them.

Note 2: Out here dropping names like I didn't say I'd make a post about that at some point lol. So, the firstborns in order of character are Portgas D. Rogue, Trafalgar D. Rosinante (called Rosi cause it's too damn cute), Wren, Sora and Angel, and Roronoa Keitaro.

[holyblonded]

i love all your fics so much !!!

I think my fav is the 3 big softies!! Ale, Olga and Estrella. Could we please possibly get some hcs about little everyday things ale and olga do, maybe just to make estrella smile or even just make her day a bit easier?

keep up the good work!!!

— olga always makes sure estrella has her favorite snacks stocked in the house, even the really obscure ones she randomly craves out of nowhere. estrella never asks, but olga just knows.

— alexia double-checks estrella’s bag before training because estrella has a habit of packing the wrong things or forgetting important stuff. estrella grumbles about it, but she never actually stops alexia.

— olga has an alarm set on her phone specifically to remind estrella to eat lunch when she’s out with friends because she gets too caught up and forgets. sometimes, she’ll send estrella a text that just says, “food. now.”

— alexia braids estrella’s hair when she’s too tired or lazy to do it herself. estrella never asks, but she always sits in front of alexia when she wants it done, and alexia just starts braiding like it’s second nature.

— olga lets estrella “borrow” her hoodies, even though they both know estrella has no intention of ever giving them back. olga pretends to be annoyed, but she never actually asks for them back either.

— alexia will sit next to estrella in the living room while estrella is playing video games, not saying much, just being there. sometimes she’ll hand estrella a water bottle without a word, just making sure she’s taking care of herself.

— olga makes estrella hot chocolate on cold nights, even when estrella insists she doesn’t need it. “just drink it,” olga says, handing her the cup. estrella always does.

— alexia makes sure estrella always has a blanket on her when she falls asleep on the couch. even if it’s just for a short nap, there’s always a blanket magically appearing over her at some point.

— olga wakes estrella up in the morning by throwing a pillow at her. “rise and shine, sleeping beauty,” she says. estrella groans but always ends up laughing.

— alexia lets estrella rant about whatever’s on her mind, even if it’s just a ridiculous argument she got into on social media. she doesn’t always understand, but she listens.

— olga plays along with estrella’s dramatic antics, but she also knows exactly when to reel her back in before she gets too carried away.

— alexia and olga both make sure estrella knows, in little ways, every single day, that she is loved.

[toudan]

Hi! Can you write sleep headcanons with Tejo, Vyse, Iso, and Raze from Valorant? For female reader.

featuring iso, raze, vyse, tejo | female reader (kinda? it's not that specific), established relationship, fluff | ao3. masterlist. request rules.

A/N.⠀get in loser we're making sure you feel loved!!!!

✦ I’ve mentioned this in another post, but he likes it when you massage his scalp. It’s a surefire way to lull him to sleep. He’ll also settle for you being the big spoon. He likes the feeling of you clinging to him.

✦ One of his favourite moments to have is where you’re watching a film you suggested but you end up falling asleep first. He gets to tease you about it the next day, and plus, it’s really cute when you fall asleep on him.

✦ I imagine him to be a light sleeper. Very easy to wake him up. Even if you leave very quietly in the middle of the night, he’ll wake up disgruntled because he can’t feel you against him. Makes him a little grumpy. It’s a wonderful sight.

✦ He himself sleeps pretty late, but he’ll point it out if you do the same thing. “You should be asleep.” Has he considered that maybe you can’t do that without him? (He does know that. He just likes hearing you say it.)

✦ Is #1 in making sure you’re wrapped up warm and cosy under the blanket because he doesn’t want you getting sick. He will put that blanket back on you if you kick it off. Don’t test him. He’ll wrap you in it like a burrito if he has to.

✦ Raze moves around in her sleep a lot. She’ll drape a leg on top of yours, roll to the other side of the bed, end up with her head in your lap… she goes through all the motions, basically.

✦ Gets hot easily. You don’t have to worry about her hogging the blankets. What you do have to worry about is her kicking off the blanket while you’re sharing it. She acts like the blanket is a monster.

✦ Speaking of temperatures, her air conditioning temperature is low. If you like the cold, it’s perfect for you, but if you’re more suited for warmer temperatures, you’ll need to sleep in sweats.

✦ Likes chatting about anything and everything with you until you fall asleep. It doesn’t matter if you think she won’t be interested. She’ll listen and react to every single word. Sometimes she’ll offer up a story or two of her own.

✦ Doesn’t always wake up after the first alarm ring. I picture her to be a bit of a heavy sleeper, so you might need to get a little physical in order to wake her up. Shake her awake, call out her name—do it plenty. She also wakes up with so much energy that it almost makes you jealous.

✦ Vyse doesn’t get a lot of sleep. You’ll feel her crawling in bed but her side is empty by the time you wake up. She likes keeping herself busy, so you’ll find her doing something more often than actually lounging.

✦ That doesn’t mean you can’t ask her to stay the night, though. If anything, she prefers it if you tell her outright what you need. She’s not very physically affectionate—not that she hates it, it’s just not always on the forefront of her mind—so you’ll have to communicate with her about your needs.

✦ Similarly to Tejo, she will come to bed with you if you ask. She’ll still be doing something like reading or watching the news, but she’ll happily let you sidle up to her. She doesn’t realise she does this, but she tends to skim her fingers up and down the side of your arm as some sort of self-soothing behaviour. 

✦ She likes being the bigger spoon, having her arm wrapped around your shoulders while you cuddle her. You’re one of the things she’ll give her all to protect, and it shows in how she holds you. She also likes tucking your head beneath her chin, holding you close to her warm body. Loves being a shoulder you can rely on in general.

✦ Will gladly read you a bedtime story. Granted, it’s not a fairytale and it tends to be something more academic, but it works in lulling you to sleep every time. Sometimes she’ll tease you about boring you to sleep, but she doesn’t take it personally. It reassures her just a little, knowing that her voice makes you feel safe.

✦ Always makes sure you never go to sleep alone. No matter how late in the night it is, he always comes home, and he always makes sure you wake up in his arms the next morning. You don’t even have to ask. He’ll do it.

✦ Usually stays up late doing his hobbies or preparing for work, but will come to bed if you ask. He’s an early bird, so he’ll just use his free time in the morning. Whatever his baby wants, his baby will get. If that means using his chest as a pillow, so be it.

✦ Finds falling asleep a lot easier when he has you close. He tends to bury his face in your hair or the crook of your neck, taking in the scent of your body wash or lotion. Likes wrapping his arm around your waist and holding you close to him. 

✦ He’ll sometimes play around by not letting you get out of bed. If he’s comfortable and you’re comfortable, there’s no need for you to get up, right? Stay with him, then. You can try to break free all you want. He’s still stronger. (He will let you go eventually, of course, as long as you promise you’ll be back in no time.)

✦ Never lets you sleep without a goodnight kiss. He expects you to demand it if he forgets. It’s very rare, but sometimes he’ll ‘forget’ just to see you get pouty and huffy. Brings him insurmountable joy.

[barblisa]

something about taivan being mari’s parents. something about mari being taivan’s daughter.

something about mari being van’s baby — the one little innocent spot she has left, the only person other than herself who can still make-believe and find some joy in things. something about van being unable to put her feelings into words for mari whenever shauna questions her on it; because she doesn’t know how to say that mari is her baby in the same way jackie or mel was shauna’s baby. but jackie wasn’t always shauna’s baby, she was also shauna’s tai. but the grief van feels over mari feels like absolute heartbreak, what she imagines shauna feels over jackie, though she’ll never admit it out loud.

something about mari looking up to van as a big sister, a mentor, a caregiver. mari always following van around like a lost little ducky. mari offering sleepovers anytime she could because she saw where van lived once and she wants to give van a safe place for the night. mari drinking from van’s water bottle at practice and van says it’s okay because it’s mari. (if anyone other than mari, nat, or tai did that, she’d be grossed out.)

something about van giving mari a piggyback ride as they explore the woods. checking in with her using thumbs-up and being unable to contain her laughter when mari grins enthusiastically as if they aren’t stranded in the middle of the wilderness. van sleeping in the middle of mari and tai, feeling mari curl up against her back. van sharing tai’s sleeping bag with her and giving mari more blankets. mari running up and throwing herself at van in a hug every time van leaves the camp and comes back, and van isn’t that affectionate, but she’s laughing and always right there to catch mari.

something about tai being mari’s stepmom because van is always parenting her without ever really admitting she’s parenting her. and then eventually tai graduates from stepmom to second mom. she braids mari’s hair, she carries her when van can’t, she is reminded to just smile and slow down whenever she sees mari’s innocence about something. tai grabbing mari and holding her back from arguing with the others if van doesn’t notice.

something about both van and tai looking back on a walk to make sure mari is still with them. tai going to check on mari during van’s recovery and finding her snuggling with van’s blanket, laying down with her, holding each other as they cry. mari being unusually quiet when van is unconscious, sitting by her, holding her hand, praying over and over that she wakes up. somehow, someway, thinking it’s her fault. maybe the wolves had been after her and van got in the way to protect her?

something about mari sitting in between van’s legs on the field after a practice, van trailing her fingers through the ends of mari’s hair - subtly, because she doesn’t need anyone to know she actually has a soft spot. tai driving van home, but also driving mari home because mari’s parents work too late, mari’s head popping up from the backseat, forcing them to listen to her favorite songs on the radio. tai having tapes in her car labeled mari because she’ll get a little alone time with van if van’s shadow is distracted by the music. mari being slightly younger and promoted from jv to varsity, immediately latching onto van as her person, lottie teases van for having a shadow.