#I intended for this to be funny so I am so very sorry if this bothers someone!!

[messiahzzz]

while it’s perfectly fine to have your own headcanons that are non-canon compliant — by all means, go wild. recognizing pieces of yourselves in fictional characters can be a very healing and validating experience. this is nonetheless a casual, well-intentioned reminder that gale, in fact, does not have bpd.

bpd is a pervasive pattern of instability affecting interpersonal relationships, self-image, and mood. the disorder is marked by impulsivity beginning in early adulthood and is present in a variety of contexts. a diagnosis requires at least 5 of the following 9 criteria to be met:

Fear of abandonment

Unstable or changing relationships

Unstable self-image; struggles with identity or sense of self

Impulsive or self-damaging behaviors (e.g., excessive spending, unsafe sex, substance abuse, reckless driving, binge eating).

Suicidal behavior or self-injury

Varied or random mood swings

Constant feelings of worthlessness or sadness

Problems with anger, including frequent loss of temper or physical fights

Stress-related paranoia or loss of contact with reality

source: [x]

i highlighted the criteria that do apply to gale in one way or another in a pretty purple.

i personally believe that it’s rather harmful to equate his relationship with mystra with her being “his fp”. she is a deity, his goddess, and the source of his powers, who is in in full control of the magic he wields.

gale: mystra commands all magic. salvation, if such a thing exists, is hers to bestow or withhold.

gale has been effectively groomed and conditioned to serve and revere her at every turn since early childhood. imo this comparison really undermines a lot of crucial points in gale’s story that deal with his overall trauma and abuse. after all, you wouldn’t call shar sh*dowhe*rt’s fp either.

gale doesn’t revile mystra, nor does he commit benevolent deeds solely motivated by the secret hope that she will somehow notice and take him back. when you meet gale in the game he has already fully come to terms with the fact that he has been abandoned by mystra with no hope of reconciliation whatsoever. he also had some very fitting lines in ea regarding this topic that i'm sad haven't been repurposed in the full release in some way.

gale: [the tadpoles] don't know that some things are impossible. they don't know that... they don't know. player: what is impossible about what you're being shown? gale: forgiveness. gale: it is mystra i see. and yet it cannot be her. there was a time when i would have believed - but no longer. gale: suffice it to say she would not bestow upon me the favors promised in these dreams. that is how i know they are delusions.

he has already reached the stage of acceptance. moreover, gale only starts to realize that mystra might have been in the wrong for requesting his death once the tadpole squad & tav speak some sense into him. and even then he doesn’t ever show that his emotions regarding mystra are anywhere along those lines. he is instead rightfully angered that she only saw value in his death, after he had been worshipping her loyally for years.

gale: i worshipped mystra loyally for years, and in that time she granted me the barest sliver of the power i was ready to wield. gale: even with the fate of the world at stake, she had little more to offer me than the means of blowing myself up at a more convenient time. she's done nothing to help us.

gale: you abandoned me in my hour of greatest need. i had no obligation to help you in yours. gale: because you had no right to ask that of me. you cast me out, remember?

gale doesn’t display rapid changes in mood either. he is a character who is generally very composed and has been known to remain nonchalant even in the face of utter horror. tim downie himself even commented on this once. source: [x]

the only instance i can think of is his sudden switch from resigned-to-death to utter-eye-sparkling-enthusiasm once he spots the crown of karsus. apart from crucial story reasons that i won’t touch upon in this post, i’d also like to add that it’s a rather common phenomenon for people who have just barely survived a suicide attempt to suddenly be filled with zeal and unbridled energy. he doesn't display impulsivity without thorough consideration when it comes to its acquisition either. he considers this a golden opportunity and is positively enthusiastic and elated that this might prove an alternative to him ending up in a cloud of netherese smoke. nonetheless, he knows what he is doing. evident in him actually succeeding in ascending in one of his endings.

gale: this is no passing whim, trust me. if i can obtain that crown, it will affect us all. it is not a decision i'll take lightly. gale: it's our future that i'm thinking of - we can't rely on anyone else to do it for us. gale: for now - we've learned all we can.

neither are his relationships that we do know of (namely elminster, tara, and morena) frequently changing. they are marked by years of mutual respect, care, and consistency. there is nothing unstable about them. while it's important to note that his relationship with tav is still in its honeymoon stages during the main game, there is no inclination of any push-and-pull dynamic between them whatsoever.

gale isn’t preoccupied with keeping up some sort of benevolent act in order to win (back) affection — he genuinely IS a good person and he proves this at every turn. moreover, to have a tressym become your familiar you must be of Good alignment.

(taken from tumblr user galedekarios's post.)

there is never a moment where his ideals or alignment suddenly change. in fact, i’d argue that he and wyll are most consistent in this regard when compared to the rest of the companions. gale makes his moral standpoint very clear from the beginning on and also explicitly states that he believes that in order to survive this entire ordeal it would be selfish of him if he wouldn’t be willing to compromise on his morals. this isn’t a sudden bout of ✨muahahaha wizard hubris✨ that he barely contained to hold in before, this is yet another act of selflessness — it is what he’s willing to do for the group and subsequently, the welfare of faerun.

player: i love unsavoury things. don't feel guilty on my account. gale: that's good to know. although i should say i do what i do out of a sense of utility and pragmatism, not a love of the unsavoury. gale: we're up against the greatest threat faerun has ever faced. i don't mind getting my hands dirty if it gives us a better chance of surviving. gale: whatever advantage i can gain for us. i will. and i refuse to feel guilty for it, no matter how much mystra's chidings might echo in my skull.

this is him, once again trying to be useful in whatever way he can. to give them an advantage, a slither of hope against seemingly impossible odds, so they might make it out of this in one piece. gale wouldn’t approve of those actions under normal circumstances, but their predicament is as far from any definition of “normal” as it can get.

gale is no fool, he realizes this is essentially about survival. he knows that he has no option left other than to tolerate, which is why he can be convinced to not immediately depart tav’s company even if they choose to commit atrocities. this is no character flaw of his or him displaying a previously dormant openness for cruelty, this is about recognizing the necessity.

player: you don't stand a chance alone. you're free to go. i dare you. gale: gods damn you - you're right. few things are more powerful than the will to live.

gale: i thought the orb to be the greatest of my sins, but i see now that there are darker depths to which i might yet sink. you may be content to sink into that abyss, but i assure you - i am not.

gale doesn’t lead a split existence. he has a very strong sense of identity. he knows what he wants, what he doesn’t want and he isn’t shy in expressing his boundaries either. which he has especially shown when it comes to his relationship with tav. i originally had intended to touch upon this in another post entirely but: i firmly believe his entire Gale of Waterdeep™ persona is more of a performance than him struggling to find a sense of identity and trying them on for size. it is an intentional decision to separate gale dekarios from the great wizard of waterdeep, to create distance and make sure his family name remains untarnished in case things should ever go sideways.

gale: i agree. and on the plus side, if i get myself into any truly cataclysmic straits during the remainder of our journey, my family name will go untarnished.

there is also a deep-rooted feeling of unworthiness and his firm belief that love and praise are conditional resources that he will only be granted through his talents alone, naturally. presenting himself as gale dekarios, the man, would mean highlighting his shortcomings and very human flaws, while distracting from the aspects of himself that are deemed praiseworthy, the ones that actually matter: his magical prowess.

i personally believe that part of the beauty of gale’s story is him realizing just how “little” it takes for him to be truly content. he gets his happy ending, with someone at his side who truly sees him, understands him and unabashedly commits to him. they worship and adore him in return — and it is well deserved. he isn’t reduced to be constantly and restlessly searching for some unattainable ideal to fill the gaping void within himself. he doesn’t secretly thirst for more power still or believes that in being with tav he is settling for something. instead, he is finally happy to just be. be and be accepted. teaching a class of unruly wizards and coming home to his spouse each day already fulfills him.

gale: that's how i feel with you - content. it's a rather unfamiliar feeling, i must say. not something gale of waterdeep ever craved.

even if he doesn’t pursue a romance with tav, he reaches a realization of “oh, it appears i am not irredeemably flawed and only able to reach true redemption through my own death. what i needed was actually with me all along.” throughout their journey and through his friend's support. i think that’s a very powerful and comforting message. he is very well capable of finding peace within himself.

devnotes: his default state is that he returned to waterdeep and became a professor of illusory magic at his former school, blackstaff academy. general vibe here is that this is a gale who's found peace with himself - he's a great teacher, one his students are mostly in awe of.

to repeat myself: sharing your headcanons is all in good fun, nor should you ever be discouraged from doing so. this is your personal tumblr experience, after all. but i personally think we should be mindful of unintentionally perpetuating negative stereotypes, such as narcissism being a general indicator or being deemed a classic depiction of bpd. i think we can all agree that the continuous longing for acceptance, connection, praise, and approval is something we all have in common deep down, regardless of whatever disorder we may have. [insert victoria justice meme here]

gale may be many things to many people, but he is no entitled narcissist.

[ask-sarah-and-co]

To jasper and hendrik- have either of you ever gotten drunk?

The Cobalion scoffs. I never have and I never will.

The Yveltal only grins, Now when was the last time-

January 28th. 1393.

How do you know-

I believe, in your haze, you accidentally stole the souls of four mortals and they, supposedly, died in a fire. In Kalos nowadays, it is an event called the Bal des Ardents.

Ball of the Burning Men. Lovely…

I know this because I was called away from my training, by Artemis, to take you back to your duties. He scowls.

Maybe I shouldn’t have any more of this… Jasper places the champagne he was holding on the table.

[daz4i]

weirdest thing i get told is that I'm strong or resilient. girl i crumble into dust on a weekly basis. i only take the shape of a person the next day bc the wind blows me back into that. i do not want to be doing any of this

[nereidprinc3ss]

light of the morning

in which spencer sneaks into bau!reader's hotel room and they share a little more than just the bed

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom!spence x sub reader, munch!spence, unprotected piv sex (dont do that), creampie (hate that word btw) praise, mentions of having to be quiet because morgan is right next door LOL, fluffy, established co-workers/friends with benefits, soooo idiots in love a/n: here is the promised smut. i am literally kicking my feet and twirling my hair and giggling and blushing at my own writing. I'm gonna have a freak out. requests are open like my legs

It’s late when the knock finally comes. Late enough that you’re dozing on the bed above the covers. 

It takes you a moment to reorient yourself—you’re rubbing your heavy eyes when you finally get the door. 

"Hi."

"Hey," says Spencer, hands awkwardly shoved into his pajama pants pockets. It’s funny, really. He never gets any better at this. 

You step aside and he enters the room, looking around as you close and relock the door. 

"Did I wake you?"

"How could you tell?"

"You’re in pajamas. And you look tired. I mean—you don’t look bad. You never look bad, I just meant… you don’t look tired but you’re not—I didn’t mean to—"

"Relax," you yawn, putting him out of his misery. "I was joking. I know I look tired." You glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. "It’s late. We have to be up early tomorrow."

"Yeah, I got, uh, sidetracked. Sorry."

He was reading. If it was anyone else, you'd be offended--but a sinkhole could open up under Spencer's feet and he probably wouldn't notice if he was absorbed in a book.

You shrug, a knowing smile lifting the corner of your mouth. 

"It’s fine. But I don’t know if tonight is a good night. I really am exhausted."

His eyebrows dart up. 

"That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I’ll just, uh—"

When you don’t move from in front of the door, he pauses, unsure. You bite the inside of your cheek, studying his rangy frame and choice of clothing. Blue pajama pants, slippers, grey CalTech zip up hoodie. It feels wrong to describe a 6'1 man as adorable, but that’s how he looks in his sleep clothes. There’s a very real chance, you find yourself thinking, that you are the only member of the BAU to ever see him in something other than slacks and a button-down. He looks so cozy that you kind of really want him in your bed even if he’s not doing anything but sleeping. The invitation slips out before you can think too hard about it. 

"You could… stay, anyway, if you want?"

His mouth parts slightly, and those eyebrows raise again. There’s a moment of awkward silence and you are very much beginning to regret your offer, wondering if you somehow violated the sanctity of your co-workers/friends with benefits situtationship. Clumsily you try to backtrack. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, you can—"

"No, no! You didn’t, I just don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me to stay in your room. I’m right across the hall, I can go back if you want me to."

You smile awkwardly, silent relief replacing the brief anxiety. 

"It’s fine. It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before." And not like you wouldn’t have ended up doing it tonight anyway, if things had gone as originally intended.

He chuckles, looking to the floor and nodding. The blush on his face does not go unnoticed by you. "Fair enough."

It’s incredibly endearing how nervous he still gets after six months of this little arrangement. 

"Do you wanna get your stuff, or…"

"No, that’s okay. I’ll just go back early tomorrow. The chances of someone seeing me leave your room are significantly higher if I do it so soon after entering."

You squint, unable to tell if he’s fucking with you or if that’s an actual statistically sound probability. And then you realize, blissfully, that you don’t really care. 

"Okay, well. Make yourself comfortable. I’m just going to brush my teeth."

Once you’re enclosed in the bathroom, hotel vanity lights blinding you as you brush, you find that there is a jittery sort of apprehension buzzing in your chest. But that’s silly. As you yourself pointed out, the two of you have shared a bed many times over the past few months. But the sleeping together is always a byproduct of the sleeping together. Never have you shared a bed in a completely decent, virtuous, strictly non-sexual manner. It’s always been a matter of convenience—less bother if he doesn’t have to worry about sneaking back into his room in the middle of the night when you’re both exhausted. Or maybe that’s just what you’ve been telling yourselves. 

You rinse your mouth out and exit the bathroom, flicking off the light and finding that Spencer has indeed made himself comfortable. The hotel room is dark and he’s already under the covers, fiddling with his phone. 

"What time should I set the alarm for?" He asks, looking over at you as you crawl into bed, drawing the covers over yourself. "I was thinking 6:23. That should give me enough time to—"

"Sounds perfect," you affirm, wiggling under the blanket as you get comfortable. He schedules the alarm and sets his phone on the bedside table, dousing the room in complete darkness. Your eyes stay open despite, waiting for them to adjust. A few moments of utter silence and stillness pass, and you can tell Spencer is completely stiff next to you. 

"Spencer."

“Yeah,” he answers immediately. Like he’s even more wired about this whole situation than you are. 

"You know you don’t have to avoid touching me at all costs, right? I’m not a leper."

He looses a nervous laugh. 

"I know. We’ve just never really done this."

You frown at the darkness.

"We’ve definitely slept in the same bed before."

"Yeah, but… this feels different."

That, you can’t argue with. Can friends with benefits share a bed just to be near each other? Does that blur some line? And why does it feel more intimate than the sex? 

Screw it. If there is one thing you don’t want your relationship with Spencer to be, it is uncomfortable. Uncertain, you can work with. But not uncomfortable. You reach for him, hand sliding under the duvet—and find his hand already waiting for yours. 

"I don’t think it’s that different," you lie, interlacing your fingers together slowly. 

"Prolonged physical non-sexual contact does have measurable health benefits…" the words are murmured, like the moment is fragile and he doesn’t want to shatter it. 

"Can’t argue with the facts," you breathe, trying to modulate the shakiness of your voice. But you have a feeling you’re doing about as good of a job at concealing your nerves as he is. He shifts.

"Can I…"

"Yeah."

Your heart is pounding as he slips one arm under your neck and the other around your waist, pulling you close. Instinctually you curl into him, slinging your top leg over him as you’ve done before, but always dismissed as post-sex brain chemicals making you feel all warm and fuzzy. A neurological reaction that is so solidly scientific, neither of you ever questioned it. But it feels bigger now. 

He exhales as you settle against each other—a sound of relief that mirrors your own. He’s so warm, so safe as he envelops you, physically and sensorially. In such close proximity, so clear-headed, you notice each layer of his scent. Toothpaste, lavender, vetiver, detergent. You sort of feel like a creep, but you can’t deny how comforting it is. Nor can you deny the pirouette your heart does when he begins minutely rubbing your back, like he’s not even thinking about it. 

"Goodnight," you whisper into his shirt. 

"Goodnight," he whispers back. 

You fall asleep pretty quickly after that. 

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

It’s unclear what wakes you up—maybe it’s the blue-grey dawn light filtering in through the filthy window (doubtful, it’s still mostly dark) or maybe it’s the blinking green digital clock on the nightstand. 5:02 AM. Your alarm will go off in an hour and 21 minutes.

Sometime in the night you shifted, turning over in your sleep, but Spencer is still holding you close. The arm slung so casually over your waist is slightly domineering, but you manage to rotate again and face him once more. Mere inches away from his face you can see every detail. His expression is so peaceful, it makes your heart ache. 

But you’re just friends. 

Perhaps he felt you moving, because his eyes flutter open and you watch as they flood with consciousness. He takes you in, takes in his arm over your waist. For a split second you’re nervous he’ll pull away. 

"What time is it?" His voice is scratchy with sleep. 

"Five."

"Why are you awake? We have over an hour til the alarm goes off."

"Sometimes waking up early is okay."

His eyes flicker between your own, and momentarily you’re paralyzed as you realize this is a limbo state for the two of you in which you’ve never operated. You don’t know what’s acceptable. You don’t know what to do. Being close to him feels so good, that the idea of separating hurts. But you don’t want to make him uncomfortable, or—

He leans forward and kisses you softly. In the blue light of dawn, rather than frenzied and hidden in the dark, a desperate tear of clothes and teeth and hands—it’s almost freeing. All the anxiety you were feeling just seconds ago begins to melt. 

Friends. 

"You looked anxious," is his whispered answer after he pulls away a moment later, like a kiss is the simplest remedy in the world. He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear. "We should go back to sleep."

"I don’t want to go back to sleep."

The corner of his mouth twitches as he studies you.  

"No? What do you want?"

Emboldened by your mutual indiscretion, it’s your turn to kiss him. You feel him smile against your lips, hand finding the back of your neck and raking up through your hair to pull you closer. 

The delirium of sleep seems to have softened you, filed down the rough edges of your boundaries and kicked away the lines in the sand. What’s a kiss or two when you’ve just woken up? A small, innocuous display of affection while you’re still barely conscious. Nobody could fault either of you for that. People don’t think clearly when they’ve just been asleep.

So what if your lips part against his, and his other hand finds its way under your shirt to stroke the bare skin of your waist and hips? So what if you hitch that leg over him again and press closer?

Spencer breaks the kiss, still ghosting over your lips. 

"I thought it wasn’t a good night?"

"It’s not night time anymore, is it, genius?"

You sneak another kiss, nipping his bottom lip gently as you pull away. 

Instead of whatever array of responses you were expecting, Spencer smiles slightly, eyes almost sparkling in the faint light. The hand on your hip moves to your face, gently thumbing across your cheek. He begins to say something, and stops himself—biting his lip to hold back the words. 

"What?" you ask, heart dropping. Illusion fracturing. 

"I was just—" he begins, pausing for a moment before the words all come out in a rush. "I was just going to tell you how beautiful you are, but I don’t know if that’s something I should say, or if it would feel too… I don’t know…"

He trails off. A rare instance in which he doesn’t have the words. 

You do. Intimate. Real. Romantic. And he’s right, it does feel too much like all of those things. But that doesn’t mean you don’t like it, perhaps more than is strictly good for you. 

"It’s fine. Thank you."

He continues chewing on his lip for a moment. 

"Did I just ruin the mood?"

"No," you laugh, "not at all."

"Thank god," he sighs, surging forward again. 

"Since when do you thank god?" You manage between kisses. 

He moves to press his lips to your jaw and down your neck. 

"Do you want me to talk about the historical and cultural transition of religious expressions into ubiquitous secular colloquialisms right now?"

"Kind of," you breathe.

"No you don’t," he murmurs against your neck as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "You want me to take your clothes off."

Well, he’s not wrong there. 

You help him tug the shirt over your head before leaning back into the pillows as he situates himself over you and lavishes more kisses down your neck and collarbones, pausing to suck a mark only when he knows it’s low enough to be covered by your clothing later. 

You gasp when his lips brush over your nipple, before running his tongue over the sensitive skin. He glances up at you, and though his mouth is occupied, you can see the humor in his eyes. He loves how sensitive you are—how easy it is to get a reaction out of you. 

Of course, you continue to prove him right when he takes the other into his mouth, trying to hold back your little whimpers as he darts his tongue over the peak. Maybe somebody else wouldn’t hear them, but Spencer does. He’s hyper attuned to the sounds you make. Something of a catalogue has begun to form in the back of his mind; he knows exactly what each noise means and how to get them out of you. 

Once satisfied, he moves to press a kiss to your sternum. 

"You’re gonna be quiet for me, right?" Another kiss above your bellybutton. "Because Morgan is sleeping right on the other side of that wall, and we don’t want to wake him up."

"I’ll be quiet," you promise, somewhat breathlessly. Spencer’s mouth trails lower until he’s pulling your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely naked. He tosses them somewhere on the floor and hooks your legs over his shoulders. 

"Good." He plants one last kiss to your thigh and the next one lands right between your legs. 

You regret the need to be silent almost as soon as he drags his tongue over your clit. It’s not like the two of you have ever had the privilege of making a lot of noise, as the hotel rooms are always so close to each other, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

Instead you opt to rake your hands through his hair and try to take deep breaths. But he knows exactly what you like—he knows starting light and slow, teasing around your most sensitive spot will work you up to the brink of insanity, just like he knows gentle circles make your back arch and elicit the prettiest little moans. 

"More," you beg, and the hands wrapped around your thighs rub soothingly, reassuring you that if you can just be patient you’ll get what you want. 

He takes your aching clit into his mouth, sucking lightly and you’re forced to clap a hand over your mouth, muffling the sob of pleasure you can’t hold back. Spencer keeps it up until you’re practically riding his face, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his tongue when you get too close. 

"Fuck, please, Spence," you whisper through your fingers, hips rutting in your desperation. Somehow it always ends up like this—with him in charge and you begging. Not that you have a problem with it, of course. 

He hums into you, and if the way his tongue moves back to circling your clit with newfound fervor is any indication, is apparently satisfied with your entreaty. 

You gasp and try to control your breathy moans, but his mouth feels so good on you that your vision is going out and you’re losing touch with reality ever so slightly. You use the last of your brain power to bite down on the back of your wrist, hoping it adequately muffles the noises you make as you come on Spencer’s tongue and he greedily continues lapping at you. There’s really no way of knowing—your ears are ringing anyway. 

When you come to a moment later he’s peppering kisses on your thighs, rubbing your hips gently. 

"So pretty," he murmurs, climbing back up so your lips can meet again. "Everything about you is pretty."

You paw at his shirt, signaling that you want it off as you moan at the taste of yourself on his tongue, feel your slippery arousal staining the kiss. Spencer helps you, sitting up briefly to unzip his hoodie and pull off his shirt. 

You’re the one to drag him back down, and you notice that he pulls the covers back over the both of you in a sweet gesture he probably didn’t even think about. 

"Need you to fuck me," you beg, reaching down to try and undress him further. 

"So crude. What happened to my nice, sweet girl?" He mumbles against your neck, but helps you with his pants anyway. 

"You must have me confused with someone else."

"Doubtful."

You don’t have much time to consider what that could mean before he’s running the head of his cock over your clit and you’re gasping into his mouth, saying please like it’s the only word you know. 

"There she is," Spencer croons, slipping inside you slow enough for you to feel every inch but quick enough for it to expel all the air from your lungs. Once he’s opened you all the way up, impossibly deep and close, you’re seeing stars, barely breathing. His head has dropped to your shoulder but now he drags his lips up your neck and jaw. "We okay?"

It’s been a while, you realize, since that last case in Maine. He always takes some getting used to. Hardly able to think around the pressure of his cock you nod, trying to string together a few words. 

"Fuck, I need a second." The words come out choked, but you manage. Spencer rubs your hip, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. 

"Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you."

He curses to himself, dropping his head momentarily. You’re so fucking soft, and warm, and perfect, he can’t think straight. But he has to try because he has to take care of you. 

"Spence," you gasp, failing to verbally communicate the intensity of the physical sensation. 

"I know, baby," comes his sympathetic coo. "You know you can take me. Deep breaths."

"Mhm," you squeak, trying to take follow his directions and soften your muscles. Spencer keeps rubbing soothingly over your hips, stomach, whatever he can get his hands on, really, pressing kisses all over your face and telling you how good you are, how perfect you feel for him. After a few moments he feels you fluttering around him and experimentally pulls out halfway, before pushing back in equally as slowly. Your jaw drops as he begins to leisurely fuck you, arms wrapping around his back. He gets deeper than you expect every time, rubbing you raw and stretching you out in the most delicious way. 

"Perfect, baby. Such a good listener, did exactly what I asked."

You cry out when he begins fucking you impossibly deeper, but still so slow and sweet.

"You feel so fucking good for me," he groans. "This is what you were made for, huh?" You agree enthusiastically, eyes fluttering shut. 

"Only for you."

Just three words—but he wasn’t expecting to like hearing you say that as much as he does. A strong desire to possess you overtakes him—one that he’ll probably have the decency to feel guilty about later, but for now feels fucking fantastic and intoxicating. 

"Only me?"

You moan an affirmation. 

"Good. I don’t want anyone else fucking you, do you understand me?"

"Yes!"

"I’m the only one who gets to touch you," he breathes, speeding up ever so slightly, "nobody else is going to feel you like this. Such a good girl, spreading her legs for me at five in the fucking morning. You’re not doing this for anybody else, baby."

"Uh-uh, please, pleasepleaseplease Spence—"

He knows what you need, reaching a hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 

You gasp an airy, high pitched curse, hips twitching but unable to escape the near-punishing rhythm of his own. It’s obvious that your orgasm is close, but you can’t even warn him, too overwhelmed with pleasure. He kisses you, swallowing your moans that have probably become just a bit too loud given the whole hotel thing. 

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you near the finish line for a change, open mouths slipping against each others in what is too messy to be called a kiss. Your orgasm body-slams you, a choked silent scream as you tighten around Spencer and he seems to come at nearly the exact same moment—deep inside you, slowly rolling his hips in a few more strong thrusts as he finishes. 

You let out a delayed moan at the sensation of being filled up, still pulsing around him as he comes to a halt, buried inside of you. He drops his head to your neck, and you can feel each breath against your flushed skin. Other than the panting, you’re both silent for a while. Spencer seems to gather himself sooner than you do, finally breaking the quiet. 

"You okay?"

All you can manage is a little squeak, at which he looses a breathy chuckle. His hand slides to your hip, gently stroking the skin with a thumb. 

"Need your words, angel girl."

"I’m okay," you coo into his shoulder, but he has to strain to hear it above his own breathing. 

"Yeah? Why so quiet?"

But it seems that at least for the moment, he’s gotten all the words he can out of you. When he tries to move, you whimper indignantly, clutching onto him tighter. 

"I really did a number on you this time, huh?" He laughs when you nod into him. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Mhm," you hum dreamily, little puffs of warm air slowing against his neck. 

"You can have…" he cranes his head to check the digital clock, "48 minutes."

"An hour."

He settles his weight on you once more, pressing a chaste kiss to your throat. His voice is low and gentle as he admonishes you. 

"I said 48 minutes."

But it doesn’t matter—you’re already asleep, or close enough to it. Spencer takes the opportunity to shift you to your side, and the way you wrap around him like a vine even unconsciously makes his heart ache. He really should go now—the earlier he gets out of your room the less likely certain complications will arise—but how can he possibly leave you like this? A vulnerable, dreamy girl with tangled hair haloing around her on the pillow case, clinging to him with blind trust that he’ll watch over her as she sleeps? No—there’s no way he’s leaving yet. Instead, he brings you closer. 48 perfect minutes will go by far too quickly, he’s sure. 

[55szn]

reckless - ln4

lando norris x verstappen!singer!reader smau

summary a sliiiight misunderstanding caused by yn made max go mad and almost commit murder warnings cursing fc sabrina carpenter taglist @jaydaaasworld notes requested!🌷 i’ve been dying to get to this request but i’ve had no time and no inspiration 😭 hope you like it!

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ynverstappen

liked by lilymhe, maxverstappen1 and 1.957.181 others

ynverstappen abt last week ! btw “reckless” is officially out <3

tagged maxverstappen1

view all 7.578 comments

user no lando pic, no lando like, promoting reckless, not denying the allegations. i’m afraid it’s truly over

user i’m a child of divorce

user the pic with max tho😭

user he’s such an older brother🙏🏻

user i’m legit so sad over this

maxverstappen1 😊

user 😊 = “the body is buried”

user lando i love you but i’m choosing mum’s side on the divorce

lilymhe my beautiful girl😍

ynverstappen love u lils see u on sunday 💘

user HUH??????

user TF YOU MEAN SEE YOU ON SUNDAY

landonorris

liked by ynverstappen, carlossainz55 and 2.181.021 others

landonorris when you spend a few days away without a phone and your lovely girlfriend lets everyone believe you’re an asshole and suddenly you’re the internet’s most hated person and you have death threats in your messages 🙃

tagged ynverstappen, maxverstappen1

view all 10.178 comments

user HELLOOOOO???????

ynverstappen1 I’M SORRY BABY IT WAS JUST SO FUN TO SEE MAX FREAKING TF OUT

maxverstappen1 not funny. didn’t laugh

landonorris i second that

maxverstappen1 don’t second me i’m still mad at you

landonorris I. DIDN’T. DO. ANYTHING.

ynverstappen i love you please forgive me🥺

landonorris no

landonorris okay just because you’re like really hot

ynverstappen well that was easy

ynverstappen posting that last pic is evil tho i showed you that in confidence.

landonorris is what you deserve

maxverstappen1 what was with you and those glasses

ynverstappen it was a phase max move on🙄

carlossainz55 you almost needed bodyguards to walk around the paddock😂😂

maxverstappen1 at least he knows not to mess around now

landonorris i didn’t intend to who do you think i am mate cmon

user MOM AND DAD ARE STILL TOGETHER?!???? SUICIDE PLANS ARE OFF

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carmenmmundt and 2.178.181 others

ynverstappen yes we are still together no max didn’t murder him

tagged landonorris

view all 9.821 comments

maxverstappen1 i tried to

landonorris dude😞

landonorris i love but you almost got me killed love

ynverstappen the price you gotta pay❤️

user i don’t understand what happened here 😭

user right like what does “reckless” even mean

ynverstappen it’s a song i wrote years ago about someone very shitty, found it a few weeks ago and decided to retake it and release it :D

user girl why didn’t you clarify it wasn’t about lando since the beginning 😭

ynverstappen chaos is my fuel

user you are evil.

landonorris she is.

[starstruckmoony]

Hi, could I request a enemies to lovers with Enzo? Love your writing :))

tysm for the request anon!! i am so so sorry for taking ages to post this but i got veryyyyyy carried away and it may or may not be too long BUT i hope you enjoy it and that it's similar enough to what you imagined &lt;3

king of my heart.

masterlist , requests

pairing - lorenzo berkshire x reader

summary - you and lorenzo are both sore, jealous losers with egos the size of jupiter, so you decide that you hate one another and that academic competing is the way to go. you keep that up for six full years, until something rather unfortunate happens and destroys your entire game plan.

trope/tags - enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, angst, fluff

word count - 12.8k

warnings - language, smoking

if there was one thing every single person who ever crossed your path knew about you, even if you were barely acquainted, was that you had sort of been raised without the ability to accept that you cannot always come out on top. it was simply incomprehensible. you'd been told that you were a gifted kid from the moment you became aware of your pathetic little existence. it did wonders to your ego. your smarts and determination amused your tutors, petrified them even. and the better you got, the more motivation it sparked in you.

you intended to keep things going your way when your acceptance letter for hogwarts arrived in the mail. you weren't worried, not even a little bit, and neither were your parents. being the best of the best was a running thing in your family.

unsurprisingly, it couldn't have started off better. your professors loved you. other kids envied you. each essay and exam result you'd ever recieved was the textbook definition of perfect. your grades were nicer that aphrodite's reflection in the mirror, as hermione had told you once. it was a lot coming from her. she was also amongst the few of the smartest, most hardworking students in your year, but you never felt threatened by her, or anybody else for that matter. there was, weirdly, no jealousy. on her part, at least, considering you so very effortlessly secured your spot as top of the class and never let anybody take it. she'd always be happy for you like the good friend she was, proudly patting you on the back, yet you couldn't help but think if she ever felt a little angry behind that supportive smile of hers.

and funny enough, you were finally able to stop pretending to know what it was like one fine wednesday before the christmas holidays. you had come into class more confident than ever that morning, smugly waiting for your potions essay results. you were hoping for a hundred, but a ninety nine, maybe even a ninety eight, didn't seem so bad either. that would have been, if lorenzo berkshire hadn't got his essay back with a score better than yours. he, much like yourself, was just another sore loser who craved academic validation like a drug, silently fuming whenever somebody surpassed him. he had dealt it with for months, watching you ace everything from charms to transfiguration, and always being second to you. the jealousy consumed his entire being, and he was kind of going mental, so you one could only imagine how ecstatic he was when he saw your face twist with dread after snape praised him in front of everybody. he wouldn't have hidden that mocking grin on his face if you held a knife to his throat and it made you want to choke him to death, for lack of better term.

"l/n." he sang as he successfully caught you in the corridor right after the said lesson. twat. you ignored him and increased the speed of your steps, biting the inside of your cheek, so hard that it began to sting. you didn't instantaneously realise how desperate he was to get your attention, but it became a lot clearer when he stood in front of you, entirely blocking your path. your little attempts to confuse him and avoid the situation were useless. it was kind of pathetic.

"what do you want?" simply shoving him to the ground and acting like it never happened would have done the job, but god forbid you swallowed your pride for once. 

"c'mon, don't be so pissy, i'm just trying to make conversation." you saw right through him, anyone would. him? wanting to make conversation with you? after death-glaring you every lesson for three months straight? and then bursting your bubble and being so smug about it? you almost scoffed, "you're in my way."

"oh, my apologies." he moved to the side and bowed dramatically, waiting for you to leave. you rolled your eyes, and took a single step forward, just to have him come right back to his original spot.

"move." you tried to shove him and even attempted to run for it, but he was faster than you. your nostrils flared, "you know that today was just dumb luck, right?" you crossed your arms, thinking you'd get under his skin, but there was no sign of change on his face. on the contrary, he was more accomplished than ever. you were fuming.

"i wouldn't call it that." he tilted his head to the side, observing your face.

"alright then," you copied his movements, "plagiarism?" his smile fell a little. it made you a lot happier than it should have. you expected victory from that senseless squabble, but lorenzo wasn't the type of person who backed down so easily. that was something you should have known.

"you're projecting." he shrugged, blankly staring at you.

"projecting?" you almost stuttered.

"projecting. pick up a dictionary, yeah?" he gave your head a tiny pat, and left you standing in the hallway, dumbfounded, angry, and a little humiliated.

that moment alone set off a feud that changed the trajectory of your miserable lives forever. each time he did better than you, whether it was on an essay, an exam, flying lessons even, your urge to wipe his existence of the face of the earth got stronger. the feelings were mutual on his part. you went back and forth like that for a while, trying not to be that obvious about it, but one could only hide their true feelings for so long.

it started off with hushed insults, which got strategically thrown around every time you'd cross each other's path. having other people notice your diminishing confidence was proper nightmare fuel, so you kept it as subtle as possible. then it turned into shoving and pushing, which was enough to set off some alarm bells in the heads of your friends. neville had told you that it wasn't worth it, and draco, of all fucking people, had told lorenzo to tone it down, but you refused to listen. you offered a few empty promises, saying that you'll sort it out sooner or later (sort out as in make sure you never let lorenzo get a score higher than yours again, but that was not going to happen).

your sooner or later turned into a few godawfully long years. saying you hated him may have seemed like an overstatement, but there was no other way to describe that burning feeling of i want to fucking kill you that entirely took over you whenever you laid your eyes on him. it kept getting worse and worse, without you realising just how bad it had become. your little competitions had completely lost their significance. it didn't matter who was first anymore. it could be ron or pansy, and you wouldn't bat an eye. all you cared about was surpassing each other, even if you were among the average with your scores.

that being said, it became an open secret of sort. as stupid as you made your classmates out to be, they were not, and they quickly put the missing puzzle pieces together. one of them spread a rumour that you tried to kill lorenzo, or vice versa, you couldn't really remember. and frankly, you couldn't blame them. you had given them more than enough reasons to think that you hated his guts. the most ridiculous instance had to have been the one during potions class when snape assigned you to work together. you could have placed a bet of two million galleons that he did it on purpose. it was like he wanted you to fail.

lorenzo had managed to insult you before he even took a seat at your table, calling you too stupid to work with in front of the entire class. you told him that he was a daft idiot when he unwillingly slumped down into the empty seat next to you, which had only set him off more. you accepted your fates almost immediately, knowing that whatever task snape assigned to you wouldn't be done, even if it cost you your grades.

just like you predicted, you did everything but what you were supposed to; spilled every sort of liquid there was all over each other's things, broke a few glasses, set two notebooks on fire, and burnt a hole in the table. you had stuck him to his chair, too, and lost a few house points as a result.

***

a sane person would have reached a certain point and stopped, pushing all of those stupid grudges aside. forgive and forget, that whole talk. hopelessly, your friends thought you would have got over it as you were growing older and that you would have chosen basic human decency over some hurt feelings and an insignificant competition no one gave a shit about. but no. you were not sane. you were ruthless, and you continued trying to make each other miserable like your lives depended on it. you hated lorenzo berkshire, and he hated you just as much. you were too naive and caught up in it all to realise that it'll come right back for you later.

it was like some sick obsession. from obvious sabotaging during classes whenever you got assigned to work together (followed by unsatisfactory results you blamed the other for) to throwing insults at each other in the corridors where everybody was set to hear you, you had checked every single one off.

you called him a useless arsehole on a daily basis. he called you an insufferable bitch every time he saw you. you had cursed out each other during lessons and done even worse things when nobody was looking. and if anyone did see you and try to get involved and call you names, it was bad news for them. you were each other's enemies to insult and demean and degrade and ruthlessly bully, nobody else's. only you were allowed to call him a cockroach, and only he was allowed to call you a snake. your relationship with lorenzo was nothing you could explain to somebody with a fully functioning brain, even if you tried.

one night in your fifth year, you had successfully snuck out in search of some sort encyclopaedia to help you out with your DADA assignment. none of the books which you were allowed to use did good enough of a job at making it easier, so you were hoping that the restricted section would have something better to offer - which it did. you couldn't recall the last time your trip to the library was that short.

to make things even better, you successfully avoided bumping into an annoying brunette who made your life oh so entertaining (unbearable). lorenzo wasn't anywhere to be seen. you smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of freedom at last. you were praying that the prick got bored of looming around the corridors all alone like a loser, waiting to terrorise you.

you began humming a tune you heard dean play on his old gramophone (one that got confiscated), and skipped around the corner to make your way to the grand staircase. mistake number one. you tripped over something, someone, but managed to stay on your feet as opposed to falling face-first onto the ground. you didn't even have to look back to know who it was.

"my, my, out rebelling again?" lorenzo leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, smirking in satisfaction when he noticed how you were grimacing. he stepped on one of the books you dropped, refusing to move when you tried to snatch it back.

"do you mind?" you spat, aggressively pulling it from under his foot. you straightened out your clothes and dusted yourself off before tucking the literature you had picked up under your arm.

"stealing?" he raised an eyebrow.

"borrowing." you corrected.

"without permission?" he tilted his head to the side in faux amusement, "i wonder what would happen if i alerted a professor about this."

"and you'd tell them what?" you scoffed, barely able to hold your laughter in, "that you saw me stealing while you were sneaking out to go for a casual wank?" what a fucking idiot. you rolled your eyes, turning away from him with the intention to walk away from the scene. you were not in the mood for his bullshit.

"yeah, yeah, run away like you always do." he uttered in disappointment, yawning. he knew exactly which buttons to push, and it wasn't surprising. you were familiar with each other's habits and emotions more than you'd like to admit. you stopped in your tracks. sighing, you set the books down onto the stone tiles, and spun around to face him once again.

"aguamenti." you cast the spell with an evil smile, and in a matter of seconds, a wave of water was shot straight in lorenzo's direction, leaving him soaking wet. he gasped out in shock; his clothes clung to his body. the water was unbearably cold, it was so fucking freezing, he could barely move. the commotion was noisy enough to alert filch and his beloved ms. norris, but those were the last of your worries. your felt rather fulfilled, that was what mattered.

"you asked for it." you shrugged, but did not turn your back on him just yet. that would have been the easiest way for him to attack, so you mistakenly waited, thinking he would strike for you. he dug his wand out of his pocket, and muttered a spell, "vermiculus."

you whipped your head in the direction in which he pointed his hand, realising what happened a second too late. he had turned your precious books into worms. you yelped in surprise and stepped away from the disgusting mess on the ground, your back bumping into his chest. you turned to face him and gave him a harsh push, backing him up into the wall and shoving your wand into his face.

"uncast it." you demanded. he laughed. how stupid did you have to be to even think that he'd listen to you, "no."

"berkshire." your words came out louder than expected. you wouldn't have been shocked if you saw a teacher coming around the corner to reprimand the both of you for looming around so late, but you didn't care.

"undo the damn spell." you repeated, just about ready to strangle him if you deemed it necessary.

"no." he pushed you away and took a hold of his own wand. he tried to disarm you, but failed miserabley. two could play at that game, then "stupif-"

"what's going on here?" filch's scratchy voice stopped you mid-spell. your head snapped towards him, and you instinctively stuck your wand inside of your clothes as if he hadn't already seen it. being too preoccupied by trying to come up with an explanation that you hadn't previously used to get yourself out of trouble, you had forgotten about the slimy creatures crawling on the floor. a worm wiggled towards you, too close for comfort, and you scrambled to get away, clumsily bumping into lorenzo once again. he gave you a somewhat gentle shove to get you away, and you kicked him in response, right in the shin.

"she tried to drown me." he explained with an irritated groan, rubbing the sore spot on his leg.

"he destroyed school property." you added dramatically, wishing to kick him one more time. filch's eyes trailed over to the filth beside your feet, and he made a face of disgust before instructing you both to follow him to dumbledore's office.

the whole ordeal ended with the books being safely returned to their spot on the shelves of the restricted section, a half-assed DADA assignment and the two of you getting put on bathroom cleaning duty for seven days straight (no magic allowed). it was probably the biggest mistake of dumbledore's life.

the bathrooms were not cleaned properly once. in fact, they'd only end up in conditions which were about ten times worse than their default ones. lorenzo was too busy spilling bucketfuls of water, dirty or clean, all over you to care whether he scrubbed the junk off every single sink there was (payback for the stunt you pulled on him in the corridor), and you were too busy hitting him with funny smelling toilet brushes (made sure you got all that rubbish into his hair, too) to polish the tiles and mirrors to perfection like you were told to do. it was disgusting and sickeningly entertaining at once. dumbledore considered punishing you with some other method, but gave up seeing what the boys' toilets looked like after night four. not even detention was able to come between the two of you. limits and common sense weren't either.

***

in your sixth year, the unimaginable happened. there wasn't a single soul who saw it coming, not even yourselves. maybe it was magic. maybe it was a sign from the universe. maybe some higher power did everybody justice. whatever it was, it sent your professors into a spiral. their shitty damage control was finally paying off, as cruel as it turned out to be.

classes had become increasingly more difficult than they were in previous years. to follow, to manage, to keep track of, and everything in between. mcgonagall had pulled you outside twice, asking you what was wrong after she had noticed that you were falling behind. many of your peers were, actually, but nobody would have ever expected it from you. the results you'd achieve weren't always as perfect as they were in your first year, though you had never struggled to get past eighty points until then. it was singlehandedly the worst thing that could have ever happened to you. priorities were hard to sort out, so there was a noticeable decline in your performance. you were absolutely miserable, and it did not get better, only worse. so bad that you had forgotten that you had a certain slytherin to compete with.

it was the day before halloween night, lessons had come to an end. your friends scattered around different places – some to the great hall, some to hogsmeade, some headed straight to bed, all intending to clear their minds after a stressful week of difficult assignments and dreadfully challenging essays. nearly every student left the transfiguration classroom with a relieved smile, happy that even their low scores ensured them a pass. hermione got a ridiculous amount of praise for her outstanding results, and even an encouraging pat on the back from mcgonagall.

so, a wonderful end of october for everybody but yourself. your expectations weren't high when you handed your toughest essay in. you thought you'd get sixty points at best. not hoping for much, yet still trying to ignore the worst possible outcome - one that was bound to get you someday like proper karma. but that wouldn't actually happen, would it? there was no way. it was impossible. you felt like a bloody idiot.

you failed. you fucking failed. for the first time in your life. and it was much more humiliating than you had imagined. you were so upset with yourself that you hadn't even bothered to pester lorenzo about his results, and strangely, he hadn't approached you either. no glances, no death glares, no hushed insults. not during the lesson, not after.

you left the transfiguration classroom trying your hardest not to cry, ignoring all of your friends and wishing to get out of the castle as soon as possible. you needed to be alone. you weren't looking for anybody's comfort, validation or their empty words of sympathy that would lose their meaning the moment you fixed the mess you were in. so you went to the black lake; where very little people preferred spending time, where you could be at peace with your own thoughts, and where you could catch a much needed break, even if it was only for a little while.

you slumped down onto the grass with a thump, bringing your knees up to your chest and letting your tears fall. you failed. for merlin's sake, you failed. it was like everything you had ever known was suddenly gone. you weren't even worried about what your parents or professors would say. truthfully, you couldn't give less of a damn. you were so disappointed that you had blocked out everything and everyone else, or whatever stupid opinion and solutions they might have had to offer. everyone, except for lorenzo and that dumb game you two were, for an even dumber reason, still playing. he must have been oh so happy to hear about your failure. he'd never let you live it down, you knew it.

"l/n?" speak of the fucking devil. he always had fantastic timing.

"get out of my sight before i throw you into the lake." you spat, wiping your tear-stained face with your sleeve, not looking at him.

"shiver me timbers." he sang, not feeling threatened at all.

"berkshire." you warned, turning your head towards him and meeting his gaze. you shouldn't have moved. worry flashed through his face for a brief moment when he caught a glimpse your puffy eyes, and he pressed his lips together, guilty. could he actually bring himself to pester you while you were in such a terrible condition? no, he couldn't, regardless of the resentment he felt towards you.

he cleared his throat and took a step closer. you sighed, staring back at the landscape spread out in front of you without uttering a word, "what happened?" he questioned hesitantly.

"nothing that concerns you." you attempted to shut him down. he raised both of his eyebrows, a little amused, "someone upset my favourite rival," he scoffed, "of course it concerns me."

you rolled your eyes, "just leave, will you?" but did you really want him to? your voice shook as you spoke. you despised the part of you that was wishing for him to stay. you wanted to be alone more than anything, but you knew you'd break down again if he listened to your plea and left you there. you'd take his overused insults over failure any day.

"not until you tell me what happened." your jaw clenched, and you muttered a quiet curse, knowing that he most likely wouldn't let up. as if that one would miss out on an opportunity to annoy you. he settled down in the grass, right next to you, waiting.

you sat in silence for what felt like forever. he didn't push you to speak again, and you were pretty reluctant to say a single thing. not even calling him names seemed tempting. you sighed for the nth time, starting to tear up again, "i got my essay back with thirty points." you sniffled, silently preparing yourself to get made fun of.

"fuck," you heard him mumble, and he scratched his head shortly before speaking, "if it makes you feel better, i got twenty eight." getting on your nerves was always in his best interest. although, having to see you so seriously upset was not on his bucket list, not anymore. you stared at him in shock, frowning, "what?"

he nodded. the look on his face was so sullen that you were starting to believe him, "are you not taking the piss?"

he snorted, "i wish i was," he avoided your gaze, "i, uh," he pursed his lips in thought, letting out a breath of frustration, "i was convinced i'd do well even if i started last minute... without research, but uh, guess i was wrong." you hummed, doubtful.

"why are you telling me all this?" you shook your head and trailed your eyes back to the lake, finding it rather difficult to believe that he was being so... nice. it was your first normal conversation and you had no clue what to make of it.

"who else am i supposed to tell it to?" he responded, annoyed. you bit the inside of your cheek, just as irritated, picking up a pebble. you examined it shortly before throwing it into the water.

lorenzo watched you curiously, having very little to say, which was terribly weird in itself. lorenzo berkshire not having a single unnecessary, offending comment to offer? your failures had truly taken a toll on you, completely.

"i can't believe we both fell off." you said in wonder, throwing another rock below the surface.

"right," he agreed, without an urge to backtalk, "fucking hell, i've no reason to hate you now." he blurted out, horrified by his own words.

"fantastic, now i suck at that too." you let out a dry, emotionless chuckle. you weren't crying anymore, just silently fuming at lorenzo for being the one to stop it without even properly trying.

"you suck at everything." he corrected.

"i take after you." you retorted nonchalantly.

"dumbass." he bit back a smile.

"dickhead." you were struggling just as hard. holding in your laughter was never more challenging, but you were determined not to break character.

you found yourselves in an eerily comfortable silence. by the looks of it, things would be alright. knowing that he messed up too somehow put you at ease. not even because you were happy to him fail, but more at the thought that it just happened to be at the same time as you. you found a certain dose of comfort in it. it was written in the stars, as it seemed.

"get lost now." you broke the bubble you found yourselves in. it was about time you got back on track. there was no way you'd get all friendly and gushy with him, even after whatever that was.

"alright, alright." he stood up, groaning as he did so. he dusted off the pieces of grass that got stuck to his trousers.

he stared back at the lake shortly, waiting to see if you'd say anything else he could offer a witty response to. he was a bit sad when you didn't, and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers, sighing, "well, i shall see you-"

"never." you finished that for him.

"perfect." he added, turning on his heel and heading towards the castle. you allowed yourself to glimpse at him one last time, simply not being able to let him have the last word.

"you've got some on your arse." you were talking about the remainder of the grass that was stuck to his clothing. he stopped to clean it up, and then flipped you off wordlessly.

you thought that was the last of your civilised interactions. there was no reason for you to bore your mind with it. you happened to fall behind at the same time and it gave you a decent bonding moment, but it was nothing more than that. just two people who claimed they didn't like one another very much talking properly for once. nothing, it was nothing. simple as that. so you weren't able to pinpoint why you kept looking back on it nearly every day, or why you felt so guilty for calling him stupid and useless, or why making fun of him for getting a lower score than you wasn't rewarding anymore, or why competing so fiercly was no longer satisfactory. and why he too, happened to feel just the same. maybe you had grown out of it.

you blamed it on the stress. you did have lots of different things occupying your mind anyway - such as your major arithmancy exam that you decided to pull an all nighter for.

for the first time in a while, you stayed inside the library past closing hours. madam pince wasn't too happy about it, but she liked you enough to let you crash there and warned filch not to throw you outside if he happened to notice you during his nightly patrol. the woman had some interesting tactics up her sleeve, none of which you ever questioned.

you swore, probably for the tenth time in the past two minutes, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. you had to start over a ridiculous amount of times. the pile of rubbish on the floor was growing larger by the second. ripped up paper, bottles of ink, broken feathers, it was definitely a sight. there was no way you were getting through all of that on your own. and oh how that angered you. you rarely ever needed assistance with anything, but this was just a little bit above your level. that enraged you even more. a helping hand was starting to sound promising.

"you're still here?" you didn't even flinch, knowing all too well who that voice belonged to. did god or the devil just answer your prayers? you never got past your little habits of leaving the dormitories to do whatever there was to be done around the castle almost every night, so there he went, running into you again. lorenzo peeked out from behind the bookshelves in front of you, smiling like a little kid who was just about to do something egregiously silly. you couldn't not grin back, despite being angry.

"you're still here?" you repeated his question, crossing your arms.

"i asked first." he moved towards your desk, pulling out an empty chair and settling there next to you without even asking if you wanted him there. weird, that one.

"alright, and?" you teased further. he bumped your shoulder with his own. he wanted something. punching him suddenly sounded like a fine option. he looked over your arm to examine your notes.

"arithmancy?" he glared at you, kind of bemused. it was another subject he was that awfully good at, unlike you. you weren't terrible, but not exactly the best either. an infuriating thing.

"my favourite." you responded sarcastically, throwing your quill across the table. he hummed, sitting back in his chair, but not taking his eyes off of you. he definitely wanted something.

"what?" you could sense it already. he was gonna mock you again.

"do you need help with that, perhaps?" or maybe not. you looked at him, skeptical.

"from you?" you raised an eyebrow.

"well, i mean, yeah." he shifted in his spot, as if he was anxious. you did a double take, and then burst out laughing, wiping away a non-existent tear. he was just too damn funny. him helping you? that was a good one. you carried on with that little performance of yours for the next minute until it hit you that he wasn't joking.

"are you serious?" you asked, just to confirm. there was absolutely no chance.

"look, i can leave-" he stood up, "no," you grabbed a fistful of his sweater and pulled him back down. he yelped, startled, "what's your deal?" you weren't letting him get away with that so easily.

"what do you mean?" he was geniuenly confused.

"don't play fucking dumb," you jabbed a finger into his chest, "why are you being so kind to me all of a sudden?"

he laughed uncomfortably, scratching the nape of his neck, "well, i thought, you know, since it seems like we're no longer on about hating each other, that-"

"oh." you interrupted him, chuckling in disbelief. you shook your head, rubbing your temples in frustration and then letting your arms fall to your sides, "look, berkshire, just because i'm not trying to kill you anymore doesn't mean i want to be friends."

"what!? for fuck's sake, you're impossible." he stood up once more, this time darting out of your reach.

"here we go again." you rolled your eyes. you just couldn't interact without quarreling, could you? he paced around inbetween the bookshelves before returning to your table, "you're not exactly giving me any reasons to be nice right now."

"i never asked of you to be nice." you argued.

"you could appreciate me trying." he retorted. you had no idea what on earth he was trying to achieve. you could only think of so many explanations, "why? so that you could gain my trust and then stab me in the back when it's convenient for you?"

"that's what this is about?" he muttered something under his breath, "i thought we were past that rubbish."

you wanted to laugh hysterically, "okay, we may have pushed the resentment aside, but you can't exactly expect me to trust you."

he understood that, unbeknownst to you, "i never said that you needed to trust me," he sighed, leaning over the table, "listen, i offered to help you because i can see you're struggling. i'm not here to sabotage you if that's what you're worried about. i'd be wasting my time." he straightened his posture, standing there with his arms crossed.

"because i'm already terrible enough and don't need anyone's interference to properly fuck up, right?" you were prepared to tell him to bugger off if he refused to give you the answer you were looking for, furious at him and yourself.

he paused, hesitant. you were so fucking stubborn, and he loved you for it, "correct." alright then.

you picked up your quill, "sit down."

you got your exam back with a shocking score of eighty-nine, surpassing even hermione. not lorenzo, but you were second, and that was enough to have your ego flying right back through the roof.

i told you you could do it, he said, but not without me, he had to point out. you had to give him that. how could you not? he casually decided to save your life without you even asking for it. if it weren't for him, you most likely would have majorly fucked up on that exam. that's not saying that it wasn't difficult. he had no patience and you had even less, but you had somehow survived that night in the library without biting each other's heads off or getting into any additional fights. he even followed you back to your dorm, an offer he didn't allow you to refuse and one that you were too exhausted to complain about.

in the few weeks that followed, you decided that it was for the best that you block out whatever happened between you that night. christmas holidays were approaching, and you couldn't let that ruin your mood. lorenzo told you that mattheo said that it was a shift in the matrix. you had no idea what that meant, it sounded horrifyingly muggle, but you agreed for the sake of agreeing. a shift in the matrix, bloody nonsense. a coincidence, you called it. an accident, even. an accident that helped you out tremendously and made you reconsider lorenzo on nights when you couldn't sleep, but still an accident. 

who were you kidding? something had definitely changed. other students started noticing it too.

you had gradually become somewhat friendly rivals who'd rub their own success into each other's faces for the laughs till they got threatened with a jinx or tickled to death. some occasional name calling too, just not as intense. but you weren't friends. nothing near it. you had done a pretty good job at convincing yourself you never would be. treating him a little better than usual was the farthest you'd go trying to mend all those years of jealousy and grudges. that was what you started living by, pushing away that strange tingling sensation that would coarse through you every time his hands happened to brush against yours when you walked side by side.

it is exactly why you almost spilled acidic liquid all over the table and burnt a hole in it again when he sat next to you during potions one fine afternoon.

snape was visibly mortified by the sight, partially because of that incident from two years prior (when you almost set the entire classroom on fire), and partially because he couldn't believe that mcgonagall was actually onto something when she purposefully failed you both. it would go down in history as one of the most ridiculous moments of his career. he sent a warning glare your way before beginning the lesson.

"excuse you?" you whispered once professor snape finally turned his back to the class, raising both of your eyebrows in question. was lorenzo asking to get violated?

"harry took my seat." he pointed towards the table where he usually sat. and shockingly enough, there was harry, sitting next to draco, for whatever sick and twisted reason. you gaped at them, then at lorenzo. not looking into that deeper was maybe for the better.

okay then. you didn't respond, trying to get into taking some notes like you were previously instructed. that would have been easy (it was for the first quarter of the lesson), if lorenzo's presence wasn't keeping you so alert, stopping you from focusing on what you deemed more important, "merlin, can you breathe a little quieter?" you snapped.

he purposely inhaled louder than he normally would, grinning proudly when your eyes rolled back into your brain. you kicked him under the table. he yelped, but oddly, covered it up with a cough. you glared at him, doubtful. that was not the reaction you were expecting to get.

you resumed trying to copy the crucial bits from the chapter snape assigned you all to analyse, very poorly. it was kind of impossible. you weren't used to having lorenzo sit so close to you for such an extended amount of time. ignoring him was unimaginably hard. your notes had never looked worse. words missing, constant mistakes, sensless scribbles. you reached for a new pot of ink after seeing that you had run out, and then felt his finger poke at your side.

you flinched, catching a glimpse of your professor who's head was still buried in the pile of assignments he needed to grade. he hadn't noticed you. good. but then lorenzo did it again, right where you were most ticklish, because he knew. you swatted his hand away, not missing the way he smiled to himself. little shit.

you reached to poke him too, and when you tried to pull away, he took a hold of your wrist, not letting go. he had a lot of good defense tactics up his sleeve. you didn't try to yank your arm out of his grip instantly, which was the perfect opportunity for him to tickle at your side with his free hand. this time, you held back a startled giggle, kicking him under the table one more time. he snorted, resuming his little game.

you were both sweating trying not to make too much noise, but neither of you was letting up, not letting the other have the satisfaction of winning. he eventually moved his chair closer to yours with the excuse to tickle you more effectively. your legs were touching under the table, but only because it was easier for you to kick him that way. it went on for at least fifteen minutes, until snape finally lifted his head, his eyes on the class. you separated, thinking you were being slick about it, when it was the least fitting explanation for what had been going on. the two of you had your lips pressed together, trying not to laugh. your professor could only sigh in response. at least you didn't set anything ablaze.

hermione tucked her arm under yours in the hallway when your lesson ended, grinning mischevously, "would you like to tell me what happened just now?" 

you scoffed, rolling your eyes playfully, "huh? i don't know what you're on about." you played dumb, despite knowing exactly what she was getting at. and you had no idea why. it's not like you had anything to hide.

"i think you do." she pushed. there was not a chance for you to get out of that conversation.

"really? i truly don't." you still tried, though. acting foolish was your only escape route.

"y/n." she dragged out, laughing and pulling you along with her. potions were your final lesson of the day, so you were already able to picture her desperate attempts to pull some information out of you all the way until bedtime.

"what? we were just fighting." you finally gave in. you knew you would have to eventually, but you loved your free time a little too much to let her annoying interrogation tactics drag on for so long.

"so you do know what i'm on about." she teased, scarily invested.

"what else could you possibly be on about?" you snapped, pushing away that uncomfortable feeling that settled in your chest. you had no reason not to tell her anything, so you couldn't pinpoint why you were feeling so guilty all of a sudden.

"the way you two sat closer together than every couple in our year?" she exclaimed, astonished by how shamelessly you were avoiding the subject.

you gasped, feeling a bit offended, or maybe called out. you couldn't tell which one it was, "that is not what happened." that was an overexaggaration if you ever heard one. was she out of her bloody mind? sometimes you thought that she enjoyed setting you off as much as lorenzo did.

you stepped through the portrait hole with the rest of your housemates, pushing through the crowd to get your dormitories faster. you wanted a nice shower, some peace and quiet for reading, and then decent sleep. it was that simple. you survived the walk through the common room without anyone asking additional invasive questions, immediately heading for the toilet once you arrived to your dorm.

you really needed that shower. it made you feel whole again. you stepped out after putting some comfortable clothes on, skipping over to your bed and then cursing out loud when you realised what was on it. amongst your own, there was lorenzo's fucking book. you had accidentally taken it when you scrambled to collect your things once class ended.

you could have just given it to him tomorrow, or not given it back at all. like he'd know who took it. it was incredibly tempting, but it also felt unnecessarily mean. what if he needed it to study that night? you brushed it off, not like it was your problem anyway. you sat down onto the mattress, picking up a novel from your nightstand and throwing the other books straight to the carpet so you could comfortably settle on your bed. you then put it back. you didn't feel like reading anymore. you laid there, thinking. peace was never an option in your world.

you groaned, snatching his book up from the floor and venturing back into the common room. you hadn't bothered to explain yourself to anybody, and you continued trotting over to the dungeons with a neutral expression on your face (neutral as in i am very much internally raging and if anybody tries to talk to me i might use the imperius curse on them). very useless it was, that relaxing shower of yours.

none of the slytherins lounging on the sofa questioned you, your appearance was pretty telling. good thing you ran into mattheo on the way there. getting in wouldn't have been so easy otherwise. you disappeared in the direction of their dormitories, stopping right in front of lorenzo's door. you swallowed harshly, begenning to get nervous. something was wrong with you.

you hesitated before knocking, tapping your foot against the ground furiously as you waited. "one second!" lorenzo yelled from the other side. it sounded like something had fallen over. the noise was followed by a few curse words and some shuffling before the door opened.

much to your dismay, you were met with a bare chested lorenzo, wearing nothing but a pair of trousers which loosely hung around his hips. his hair was wet, and his cheeks were a tinted with a light shade of pink. he had stepped out of the shower merely three minutes before you showed up. you inhaled sharply, swallowing the sound of surprise that almost escaped you and feeling your face heat up. his eyes went wide, given that he was taken aback much like yourself. you were the last person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"hi." he greeted awkwardly, pulling his trousers up a bit as if it would help. you opened your mouth to speak, then closed it. opened it, before closing it again. you were pretty sure you resembled a damn fish. whatever was happening to you, you did not like it one bit.

"i- you- we- ithinkthisisyours." you finally spluttered, slamming the book into his chest. his hand touched yours momentarily when he grabbed it so that it wouldn't drop onto your feet. you felt lightheaded.

lorenzo was kind of freaking out, but only kind of, not even bothering to look at what you had given him at first. he was a little too busy staring at your blushing face, wondering what the hell was going on and why his heart was in his throat all of a sudden, "are you alright?" he queried, concerned.

"i am perfectly fine." that was a lie. 

"ah," he nodded, then eyed the piece of literature in his hands shortly as he slowly figured what it was, "oh! thank you."

you laughed in misery, "okay!" before shutting the door in your own face. you tripped and almost fell down the stairs as you ran, still flushed and your heart beating in a way that you found a little too unusual to push away.

you received a few judgemental glares from the students you had run past. the question marks were practically visible above their heads. you were too busy going hysterical to sneer at them for staring. you burst through the door of your dorm, breathless and blushing, "what the fuck?"

somewhere back inside the dungeons, a confused lorenzo turned to face his friends, still holding the book you had given to him. he had no idea what on earth happened, or why you reacted the way you did, or why he, deep down, found it more adorable than he'd like to admit. he groaned, falling face-first onto his bed. what the fuck, indeed. christmas holidays never looked more promising.

and oh how you regretted waiting for them with so much anticipation. you were supposed to get a break. from books, assignments, essays, whatever lorenzo was doing to you. hogwarts was supposed to be all yours. you weren't heading home that year. it was your parents' twentieth anniversary, so there was no point in going back, considering that you wouldn't see them (you didn't exactly have friends in your hometown either). they'd be having the time of their lives in the alps, and you'd be regretting every decision you had made up until that point.

not only because you were already bored out of your mind waiting for your friends to return, but because you saw lorenzo sitting at the slytherin table when you walked into the great hall on christmas eve. the image of him opening the door two weeks prior flashed through your mind. it happened often, in the most inconvenient situations too. you were hoping you didn't look too flushed.

"what are you doing here?" he questioned in amusement once you trotted over to him, an equally puzzled expression on your face. "i could ask you the same thing." 

"all in good time." he cleared his throat, awkward. it was weird, but you didn't think much of it just yet. instead you sighed, taking a quick look around, and then speaking, "my parents ditched me for a skiing trip."

he snorted, motioning over to the very empty seat beside him. you sat down, no thoughts behind it. he was the only person among the ones who stayed for the holidays who you knew enough to hold a conversation, so it's not like you had better options. besides, that was your chance to see if there was more to his sudden change in behaviour. you were unnerved at the idea of even having the desire to do such a thing.

"what's your excuse?" you reached over his arm to grab a piece of toast, as well as some jam and chocolate spread.

"parents as well." you didn't miss the way he shifted uncomfortably. you put down your knife and propped your arms on the table, eyeing him expectantly. he held back shortly, and you couldn't blame him. who were you to think that he'd trust you with a possible family issue?

"i was told that i'm a disappointment and i'm not allowed home until i get my grades in tact." he stabbed the bacon in his plate aggressively, not looking at you. your jaw dropped in shock.

"in tact?" you uttered in disbelief. it was practically common knowledge that lorenzo exceeded you in a lot of subjects, a little more than half of them actually, so in your mind, this shouldn't have even been a problem. he was one of the top students. everybody knew that. your parents expected you to do well too, but they weren't that pushy or strict. yeah, receiving a howler for momentarily falling behind in october was aggravating, but nothing that you couldn't bear. lorenzo's, however, were crossing a line.

he hummed, picking at his food, "don't say anything." he sighed, it almost sounded like a plea. he couldn't just ask you for comfort, or ask of you to understand. faux sympathy was the last thing he needed.

"no, it's just–" you chewed on the inside of your cheek and picked up your knife again, spreading some jam over the piece of toast you grabbed previously, "you're not a disappointment, that's bullshit." you bit into the crunchy bread, chewing it slowly, a sour expression on your face. lorenzo went a bit red, stumbling over his words before getting out a clumsy i know, followed by a hesitant thanks anyway. 

you said nothing for the remaining few minutes of breakfast, just eating in silence while other students chatted in background. when you were exiting the great hall together to return to your respective dorms, you made eye contact with mcgonagall for a brief moment. she offered you a proud smile, yet with a hint of mischief behind it. you had never been more confused.

you spent the first half of christmas day alone in the gryffindor common room, reading some trashy muggle romance novel you found under hermione's bed a couple of nights before. it was one of the worst books you had ever picked up, but there was something so annoyingly addicting about it that you just couldn't give it up. it left you feeling empty and lonely, and with a strong desire to fling yourself straight into the depths of the black lake.

"christ, l/n, why do you look so sullen?" you shut your eyes, exhaling through your nose. just what you needed. you weren't even gonna question lorenzo was doing there. you had a clue.

"you don't wanna know." you tossed the book across the room, internally celebrating when he decided not to investigate further.

he made a face, "merry christmas?"

"likewise." you replied blandly. when you didn't tell him to get lost, he jumped onto the sofa, getting comfortable next to you. he didn't look all too happy either.

you sat there for good twenty minutes, staring at the fire like your entire worlds were crumbling in front of your eyes. it didn't occur to the either of you how awful it would feel to spend christmas all alone for the first time. no presents, no childhood foods, no hugs from mum in the morning. you even missed your spoiled cousins who would nag you to play with them each time you visited their house on boxing day.

it fucking sucked, but god, at least lorenzo was there. you'd push aside everything that happened between you in the previous years just for a twinge of affection. something came over you, and you lowered your head onto his shoulder, almost sighing in relief when he didn't shove you away. he scooted closer and rested his head on top of yours, not speaking.

from that moment onward, you saw each other every day. he'd show up at your dorm at random moments and you'd show up at his at even worse ones. you'd take walks in the snow together and come back with soaking wet clothes and red noses. you'd smoke in the courtyard before bed after making sure the coast was clear. you'd go to hogsmeade and fight over who was gonna pay for the butterbeer until you came up with a nonsensical compromise. you'd sneak out at night to steal books from the restricted section of the library and then read them under covers in the slytherin dorms. you'd sometimes fall asleep next to each other and then act like nothing happened in the morning.

***

you expected it all to fade to nothing once everybody else came back to hogwarts, but then it didn't. you still took walks in the snow and argued over butterbeer and snuck out after midnight (and had to clean several toilets after getting caught almost every time). he still helped you with arithmancy without asking for anything in return, and you'd sometimes kiss him on the cheek if you were in a good mood. you thrived off of the expressions that would paint his face whenever you did that.

but with the return of other students also came whispers and rumours, following you around like shadows. you ignored them tactfully, not wanting to give anybody the satisfaction of confirming that their silly theories may have been right all along. especially not hermione. she wouldn't let you forget that until you perished. she'd probably leave a note on your grave too, so you'd have that humiliating reminder haunting you in the afterlife.

"i thought you two hated each other." mattheo deadpanned one evening after lorenzo had brought you to the slytherin common room, straight into the damn snake pit. you were squashed together on the sofa, a large book splayed open across your laps, not getting read. it was one of the stolen ones. all of his friends were there, watching you like hawks.

"we do." you responded nonchalantly, taking the cigarette that lorenzo handed you. you took a long drag before putting it back between his lips.

"then why do you spend so much time together?" draco was very obviously judging you. he of all people should have understood. lorenzo rolled his eyes.

"you are in no place to talk, mister i hate potter but snog him in my off time." blaise took your side, bless his soul, and tossed theodore's shoe in his direction. shutting draco up was easier than you would have thought.

"no, but why?" mattheo repeated draco's question, propping his chin up into his palm and observing you curiously.

"maybe, they're– wait, what do you call that?" theodore leaned into pansy, hoping she had an answer.

"masochists?" she replied casually and lit a cigarette herself.

you choked on your spit. lorenzo almost burnt a hole in the sofa. but then pansy brushed her friend off, staring at the two of you with a mischievous grin, "not really, i think they're just bad liars."

and she was so bloody right. hate was the last thing that could be used to describe your relationship. third year you's biggest nightmare was a better label for it, given that you couldn't even be in the same room as him without trying to turn him into something nasty.

present day you was having a difficult time stopping herself from trying to kiss him whenever he was in her presence. it was that fucking frustrating. you couldn't believe yourself. lorenzo was facing the same struggles, and you couldn't tell if he was worsening or subduing the tension by randomly touching you. not like you minded, you were loving it all and stopped bothering with trying to hide it from him. your ego may have been large, but your crush on him ended up being bigger.

potions class was usually the height of it all, although it wasn't the only period during which you got to sit next to your favourite rival. mcgonagall was was thriving, unlike snape, who simply could not get used to the positive energy surrounding you, or the way you were together each time he crossed your paths. seeing pure fear flash through his eyes at the beginning of every class was hilarious.

when lorenzo arrived, you felt yourself starting to smile and tried to push it away with the most unsettling thoughts you could muster. it did nothing. he sat down with a dramatic groan, and immediately started ranting about some minor issue he had run into that morning. he did that a lot. this time it was about his favourite pair of socks going missing. you sucked in practically everything he said, chuckled at the random curses, noticed every breath of frustration he released as he was rummaging through his bag. you didn't realise you were staring. lorenzo did, but he didn't comment on it. he liked when you were looking at him.

you failed to regsiter that the lesson officially began, but not much was happening, really. snape was telling you about felix felicis and how insanely difficult it was to make, while you were required to write down the most useful bits of the information he was giving out. when he finally sat down after assigning you to read an overly long passage, lorenzo shifted closer to you. you eyed him, puzzled.

"would you kill me if i asked you for a favour?" you focused half of your attention on the writing, half on him.

"depends what the favour is." you shrugged. he put his arm over the text to prevent you from reading. he wanted you to look at him. he had always wanted you to look at him. from the very moment your fued set off, it was one of those little annoying things that made your hatred for him stronger. not anymore, but it was still infuriating in its own way. you gave him your full attention. he may have seen some sparks fly. you had each other wrapped around your little fingers without even realising it.

he shifted even closer to you so that you could hear him better, considering that he had to whisper, "can you come to hogsmeade with me today?" his breath fanned over your ear as he spoke. you didn't respond, so he continued, "none of my friends want to and it would be stupid if i went alone. you do kind of owe me." ah, yes. for that time he saved you from detention after slughorn caught you two smoking in the astronomy tower. you shot him with an annoyed look. you both knew it was exaggerated and what your answer would be, yet you still played around with it. that's the way things went. he smirked. bitch.

"fine." he was so smug about it, you could choke him and snog him at the same time. he got his arm away from your textbook, but didn't retrieve his chair. you were squeezed next to one another despite having more than enough space. your arms were touching, and so were your legs beneath the table. you moved not a muscle, and neither did he. you had grown to like having him sit so close to you. it made you feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside, helping you ignore the freezing winter air and the thick layer of snow covering the ground outside.

you met him in the courtyard after a quick change of clothing following the end of your classes for that week. when hermione asked you where you were heading and why you won't be staying in the common room with the rest of your friends, you told a half truth. that you were heading to hogsmeade, but then bolted out the door before she was able to ask with whom. she would guess either way.

"i forgot to ask you why we were doing this in the first place." you spoke as you left the school grounds, your hands shoved into your pockets and your face hidden inside of your fluffy scarf. you were a little cold. lorenzo was too, his nose was already going red. it was an adorable sight to see, but you weren't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"i wanna pick up a few poetry books." you bit your tongue, trying not to laugh at him.

"didn't know you could read." you snickered, it was stronger than you.

"you're so original," he mocked, "they're not for me. pansy's birthday's coming up so i figured i should get her something."

"oh." the disappointment in your tone was obvious.

all of your willingness to go with him left you in an instant. his presence was more irritating than ever. he furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you chew on the inside of your cheek, wondering if he said something wrong. again... or not. lorenzo was smarter than that.

"what, are you jealous?" he nudged you, teasing. yes. you hated yourself just a tiny bit for that, "no," you scoffed, "in your dreams, berkshire."

"we both know you can't fool me." he kept the act going. you gave him a shove, making him stumble. he almost tripped and fell in a pile of snow. it was very funny. he tried to get back at you, but you slipped out of his reach, laughing when he began chasing you.

spending time with him was like a getaway from all the things that drove you mad, even though he sometimes excelled at that. he became a friend you didn't know you needed and a friend you were pretty sure you were catching some major feelings for.

you entered the bookstore as your unplanned snowball fight came to an end, its warmth immediately engulfing you. after being in the cold for longer than intended, it was just what you desired. you stuck with lorenzo for the first few minutes, helping him out and leading him away from the large isle of erotic novels he accidentally found himself in. people were looking at you weird, especially your schoolmates, so you stepped away from the crowded bits of the shop and decided to check out different sections.

a certain book had caught your eye – its contents intrigued you, but the price did something opposite. you put it back on the shelf without second guessing yourself. you hadn't brought any money with you. you continued roaming through the different isles, browsing through various books while you waited for lorenzo to finish. you lost sight of him for a few minutes, too busy debating whether to make him come back with you here some other time so you could purchase whatever your heart desired.

for the time being, you'd have to leave the shop with empty hands. lorenzo was luckier and ended up getting five poetry books which all seemed to be written by the same author, except for one. he handed you the odd one out. you opened your mouth, ready to complain about your fingers being cold and not wanting to carry it. slowly, you realised what it was. your jaw dropped a little.

he had seen you looking at it ever so longingly when he went to check up on you after realising you had gone off on your own. he picked it up without hesitation. you were too stunned to thank him, too stunned to say anything, for the matter. but he wasn't exactly expecting a thank you. he was just happy that you liked it, grinning when you blushed and struggled to keep it cool.

"you shouldn't have done that." you chastised. those were the only words you could muster. he rolled his eyes, "deal with it."

you punched his shoulder. he didn't even flinch, "you're welcome."

when he threatened to ruin your life when you were twelve years old, this wasn't how you thought it would happen.

"i'm gonna kill you." you weren't exactly addressing him, more like talking to yourself.

"you're still on about that?" he huffed, pretending to be bored.

"lorenzo!" you groaned, he chuckled, "i love you too." your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. his weird confession seemed unserious, but your heart still fluttered. little did you know that he wasn't as oblivious as you imagined.

he was positively glowing at the reactions he was getting from you. his tiny year five crush on you had blossomed into something stronger after that moment at the lake a couple of months prior, and at last, the possibility of you feeling the same wasn't looking so small. if only you saw through his actions. all those offers of help, and his complete dismissal of your rivarly, and his clinginess, and how he stuck to you like glue whenever he got the opportunity.

your walk back to the castle surprisingly wasn't silent. you were chatting quietly, snickering amongst yourselves. your shoulders brushed occasionally, and so did your hands, and you thought your heart might burst. you shivered as the wind got stronger, pressing yourself a little closer to him.

"you okay?"

"huh?" you didn't register what he said at first, "oh, yes. just a little cold, that's all." you explained, not taking your eyes away from the pathway you were pacing across.

"let's hurry up, then." he took a hold of your hand, swiftly leading you back to the castle. you were so, royally fucked. you clutched onto the poetry book tightly, focused on regulating your breathing. your entire face was on fire, your breaths ragged, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage.

four days later, you caught a terrible cold after accidentally falling asleep by the window while you were reading. hermione said that she expected better from you. she was fantastic help. you were pretty sure you were dying. your limbs hurt. your head was throbbing. your sinuses were clogged. your throat felt like someone had stuck a knife into it. but did you skip any lessons because of it or at least visit madam pomfrey to see if she could do anything? no, you weren't that helpless. you'd deal with it on your own.

or try to, at least. you stumbled into class resembling a zombie, eager to sit down and hopefully not do much work for the day. you placed your arms on the desk, laying your head into them and shutting your eyes. you opened them only a few seconds later when lorenzo shifted next to you. you were met with his worried face, just a couple of centimeters away from yours. when you didn't budge, he touched your cheek with the back of his hand, frowning.

"you're burning up." he kept his voice down, but his tone was giving away the fact that your state concerned him greatly. you waved a dismissive hand, closing your eyes again. he poked you to make you look at him.

"have you went to madam pomfrey?" he questioned. you shook your head. if looks could kill, his probably would have.

"i'll go later." you reassured him poorly, just to get him to stop. the last thing you needed was getting all flustered and emotional because he was showing more interest in taking care of you than anybody else in your circle of friends.

"your later usually means never," he was right. you hated that. you grunted, hiding your reddening face. that was both from the fever and from him, "hey." he threw his arm around you when he didn't get a resonse. you leaned into his touch faster than you thought you would, just searching for any sort of warmth there was.

other students were giggling, but he couldn't care less, "y/n."

you lifted your head again, and then allowed it to fall against his shoulder. mcgonagall stepped through the classroom door shortly after that, her mouth dropping a little when she saw the position you were in. she was gonna scold you for displaying your affection so publicly, but lorenzo quickly explained the situation, and before you were able to protest, she shooed the both of you outside.

he immediately intertwined your fingers, walking at a slower pace than usual, not wanting to tire you more. as annoyed as that made you, you didn't pull your hand away, and instead kept your body close to his. he was muttering something, scolding you for being so dismissive and not getting this fixed right away. you were too exhausted to argue, but he was right anyway.

you inhaled sharply as your headache increased in intensity, latching onto his arm and stopping in your tracks. you shut you eyes, thinking it would help and ease it a bit. you felt him move to stand in front of you. his forehead fell against yours and his hands cupped your cheeks gently. you held onto him, taking a few deep breaths through your nose. his thumbs grazed over your skin ever so slightly, as if that his was his way of trying to soothe you.

eventually, your eyes fluttered open, but neither of you let the other go. lorenzo broke the silence between you, "you're so bloody stubborn."

"you're one to talk." you chuckled dryly, hugging him a bit tighter. he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, waiting for you to give him a sign that you were ready to walk again. when you nodded, he took your hand again, leading you to the hospital wing.

madam pomfrey had you going back to normal with a simple flick of her wand after a tiny scolding, and then she pinched lorenzo's cheek and called him a "good boy" for being so caring. the unexpected praise had his eyes going wide and he was blushing madly – you were never gonna let him forget that one.

she instructed you to come back if the cold returned, but she was addressing lorenzo more than she was you. a smart move on her part, the older woman knew you and your headstrong ways well enough. she ushered you out only after she made sure were in perfect shape to head back to class, though you couldn't do it without rubbing her comment into lorenzo face until he turned completely red again. he had to tickle you to get you to stop and you caused a bit of a commotion in the silent corridors, but that didn't matter. you returned to the transfiguration classroom with your pinkies intertwined, all eyes on you. you two really needed to talk.

and what are the odds of him being caring enough to check up on you later that day. he knew he wouldn't find you in your dorm, or the common room, or the library, or the astronomy tower. instead, he headed to the only other place on his mind, where the two of you often hung out on nights when neither of you could sleep.

you were sat on one of the stone walls in the courtyard, a cigarette in your hand, kind of forgotten. you hadn't noticed that it was burning out, or the occasional ash landing on your clothes. your thoughts were going places, recalling the many events that occured during the past few months, and what on earth you were going to do about your feelings. you could hide them from your friends for some time, but not from lorenzo. you blew out a frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of your nose. being straightforward with that idiot was always easy. you never had trouble with telling him exactly what you meant. 

the fact that you were anxious about it now was the most maddening thing in the world.

"what a depressing sight." you flinched, whipping your head in lorenzo's direction almost instantly. you couldn't tell if that was luck or misfortune. you snorted, rolling your eyes and offering him the remainder of your cigarette. he gladly took it, joining you in silence.

"why are you here?" you questioned.

"came to check up on you." he replied.

"i can take care of myself just fine." you patted his back. he seemed unphased. of course he was, he knew he'd win that argument.

you glimpsed up at the sky shortly. it was snowing just a little bit. you turned to lorenzo, a pleading expression on your face, "walk with me?"

he nodded, tossing the cigarette butt into the snow. you left the school grounds once again knowing that you wouldn't make it back before curfew, but that wasn't something the either of you dwelled on very much. there were more important things to get worried about.

it was obvious that you kept dodging the subject, settling for talking about things so insignificant that you would probably tell somebody to shut up if they brought them up in conversation on a normal day. being ballsy wasn't your thing anymore, as it seemed.

as cowardly as you felt, the sore winner in you wasn't letting you back down. a long internal debate and a silent minute of self-deprecation was what it took to make you finally speak your mind... to an extent, "have you ever felt incredibly guilty about being wrong about someone?"

lorenzo stared at you as if you were insane. it was a little too early on in the conversation for him to start connecting the dots. his street-smarts were sometimes lacking.

"you sure your cold didn't come back?" he pressed his hand against your forehead. you let out a startled laugh, observing his questioning face.

"what?" you spluttered, shoving your hands further into your pockets. the skeptical look in his eyes was making you nervous.

"you're admitting that you were wrong about something?" he sounded unconvinced, but there was a hint of jest in his voice.

you bit your tongue, clearing your throat awkwardly, "yes." you breathed out. he nodded, a way to tell you to go on. he was definitely interested. you were beginning to suspect that he already knew what you were gonna say.

"i mean," you grunted, cursing quietly, "you know when you spend years convinced that somebody is an awful person and claiming you hate their guts but then end up realising that they aren't nearly as terrible as you thought when you get to know them properly?" you explained frustratedly, resisting the temptation to kick the snow piling at your feet.

his mouth fell open in surprise for a moment, but he quickly shut it, running a hand through his hair, "uh, yeah, actually." he uttered nervously, scanning your face for any sign of humour. but you weren't playing around, and certainly not lying. he had been around you enough to be able to tell when you were being truthful.

you gave him a brief nod, looking everywhere but at him. you barely noticed that your hands were shaking. you contined walking on, not saying a single thing. if he were to tell you that he could hear your heart beating, you wouldn't even have the time to act surprised.

"i have to tell you something." he stopped in his tracks, grabbing your elbow in order to make your steps halt. you faced him, looking down at your feet, waiting for him to drop the bomb. he chewed on his lip anxiously, running a hand through his hair.

"i, um," he was struggling, not exactly knowing how to begin. how to formulate that sentence, even. he wished he could just show you. he reached to take your hand, and you let him, standing there motionless.

it was his turn to panic, "i- fuck." he met your gaze. you knew that look. you knew that bloody look he gave you when you were both thinking the same thing. two years prior it would have been something along the lines of i want to kill you. but it had turned into something that was a lot closer to i want to kiss you. you wanted to fucking cry. 

you nodded, breathing out and blinking your tears away. he almost sighed in relief, cupping your cheeks, and that's when your lips pressed against the last pair of lips you thought you'd ever be kissing.

you reached up to touch his face – that pretty face you once hated the sight of, but then couldn't get enough of. you pulled back only for a moment, only to connect again, neither letting the other go. your kisses were unhurried, soft, and loving, despite months upon months of pining, despite the years of pent up hate that was, at the end of day, sort of bound to blossom into love.

at the end of your seventh year, when you were leaving hogwarts hand in hand, mcgonagall stopped you on the way out. it was only then that she told you what had actually happened that gloomy day october, the one that practically sealed your fates for eternity. the overflow of different emotions was too strong for you to have time to act shocked, and you pulled the woman into a big hug, thanking her with teary eyes. for putting up with you for so many years, and for managing to do the unimaginable.

[roanniom]

being bold and deciding to make the first move by kissing his rings before you push his hand up your skirt 🤭

Distracted

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

You're a friend of Robin's whose been in his world peripherally for a while. Like you've gone to the same parties and you've hung out at Family Video and seen him when he brought the teens in to see Steve after Hellfire sessions. You've only hung out in groups and your conversations, though extremely flirty, have been pretty surface level.

But you've got a thing for the quirky metalhead. Not only is he a fucking babe, but he also seems genuinely sweet and is very funny. When you bring this up to Robin, however, you aren't prepared for how she lights up, telling you that Eddie's been asking about you, too. Ever the matchmaker, Robin pushes you into a plot that makes it so that you and Eddie end up alone at his place on a Saturday night (initial group plans are bailed on last minute by all the teens who were threatened within an inch of their life not to actually show up).

Eddie seems unfazed by this turn of events and takes it in stride, cracking open a six pack for the two of you to share and throwing on a horror movie.

"If you want to bail, too, that's cool," he lets you know, even as you plop down beside him on the couch, beer in hand. He's got a self-deprecating smile on his face. "I'm sure hanging out alone with the town freak wasn't exactly on your agenda this week."

"Don't presume to know my agenda, Munson," you tsk, feigning a frown that is already curling around the edges into the smile you can't suppress. "You know how type A I am. I won't have you questioning my to-do list."

You apply the innuendo lightly, but the way his eyebrow quirks lets you know that it lands as you'd intended. Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth while appraising you.

"I wouldn't dare get in the way of your efficiency, sweetheart." There's a dare in his eyes, but you lean back against the couch and watch him over the top of your bottle as you take a sip. You've got time.

As the night goes on, the two of you drink and laugh and tease one another. One movie ends and he puts on the sequel immediately. Some slasher where kids are running around screaming in the woods. The two of you discuss what your own strategy would be if you found yourselves in a similar situation. At this point, you're feeling loose and floaty - combination of the alcohol and the sound of Eddie's laughter. It's got bubbles fizzing in your bloodstream. Your bodies have shifted closer on the couch as time has gone on, and as he emphatically describes something, his hand comes down to press onto your knee. Seemingly just as a matter of emphasis and to ground your attention in his point, but you notice that his hand doesn't lift up when he finishes his monologue.

A thrill of possessive pleasure runs through your body at the realization.

"You know, you'd probably die somewhere around the halfway point of the movie," you challenge suddenly and Eddie's eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry, princess, but what?!"

"You know because you're all..." you gesture to his body. The denim vest he's still wearing over his band tee even though he's relaxing at home. The tattoos. The heavy rings on the hand that's still resting on your knee. His fingers flex against your skin when you point at them.

"I'm a badass, you mean? What about my badassery makes you think I'm dying at all?"

"The cool guys always die at the midpoint," you argue. "They get distracted having sex with the hot girls and that's when the killer guts them." Exactly as you say this, as if the universe is trying to bolster your argument, a young man on screen is stabbed through the back mid-thrust, falling down bloody upon his shrieking lover. You glance away from the screen and back at Eddie with a satisfied smirk. "Case in point."

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm cool," Eddie says with a smug smirk. You roll your eyes at him but shift a bit closer.

"I also said you'd die fucking a bimbo."

"No, you said I'd die fucking a hot girl," he corrects, also shifting infinitesimally closer.

"Oh, so you were listening," you tease. Your hand rests on top of his hand on your knee and you start fiddling with his rings.

"Yeah, and I guess that means you should be concerned," he says flippantly, his fingers splaying out on your knee so that yours have more space to move between them. You're now distracted by the attention you're focusing on his hand.

"Why should I be concerned?"

"Because the hot girl getting fucked by the cool guy dies next," he says, nodding his head towards the tv you had all but forgotten about just as a young woman running topless through the woods, her breasts swinging and covered in her dead boyfriend's blood, is cut down by the killer. You both laugh.

"All I got from that is the fact you think I'm hot," you say turning back to him and mimicking his prior comment. His face lights up with a grin.

"Guilty as charged, sweetheart."

The moment feels right. The electricity between the two of you is palpable and you lift his hand up off your knee and towards your lips.

"They only get got, though, because they get distracted," you posit, pressing a kiss to each of Eddie's rings. His eyes are trained on your lips, his own parted to let his suddenly shallow breathing pass through. "Do you think you could keep from getting distracted?"

"Uh...yeah," Eddie says, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Yeah I'm sure I could stay focused. Vigilant."

"Oh yeah?" you ask, smiling at how he's already so distracted. Suddenly you're lowering his hand and bringing it to the top of your thigh, right at the hem of your skirt. He takes a sharp inhale. "What's that? Losing focus?"

"No. Never, sweetheart," he says with a laugh, though it's shaky. Without even losing a beat his fingers flex in your hand, the pad of his thumb caressing at the skin of your thigh that he's never touched till now.

"What about now?" you ask, abruptly pushing his hand up your skirt to rest on your clothed pussy.

Before you can even process the next heartbeat, Eddie is on you. His mouth is capturing yours in a soul searing kiss and you can't help but gasp into him. Taking in his taste and scent all at the same heady time. Your hand abandons his on your mound and you bring your arms up around his neck to pull him as close to you as possible.

"If I die, I fucking die,” Eddie practically growls against your lips. “Distract me, baby.”

You laugh but he dips his head down to nips at your collar bone and it turns into a moan. Eddie’s hand starts rubbing blindly at your slit through your panties and you find your hips moving against his fingers of their own accord.

“Do horror movies turn you on?” Eddie teases. You bite your lip and shake your head, looking him dead in the eye.

“No, you turn me on, Eddie Munson.”

Suddenly you’re being pushed back down against the couch. The abruptness of his manhandling has you squealing and you lock your arms around his neck, being sure to keep him close and bringing him down with you.

His kiss arrests your lips again, his tongue invading your mouth. It’s everything you ever wanted. It’s what you’d imagined each time you’d watched him from the other side of a party or listened to him joking around with your mutual friends.

All of his attention. All of his focus on you.

What you don’t realize is that it’s always been on you. At those parties and those hang outs, as much as you’d watched him, he’d been watching you. Learned to love your smile and how quick you were to laugh. Catalogued your stories in the back of his mind as you told them to a riveted audience of all the teens.

He’s finally getting to touch you the way he’s always wanted. And it’s working him up faster than he’d like to admit.

You shift on the couch and it gives him more room to slot his body between your opened thighs. When his hard, denim-covered bulge presses against your thigh, your hips buck, pushing up into the palm which has been applying pressure to your pussy.

“Remember that agenda?” You ask with a tremor in your voice. His hand slips under the elastic of your panties, fingers making direct contacted with your slick core for the first time. You both groan.

“Um…yeah.” He says, shaking his head as if to clear it in order to comprehend your words. The tip of a finger circles your clit before sliding down to push into your hole. You gasp. “Your to-do list.”

“You’re at the top,” you gasp out.

There’s a moment where a Eddie doesn’t react. He’s so focused on pumping his finger in and out of your tight pussy, feeling you around him. Watching your chest rise and fall. But when your words make sense he throws back his head and let’s out a bellowing laugh. His laugh makes you laugh and then you’re shaking in one another’s arms. Trying to calm down. The shared vibrations of your joint hysteria seeming to wreak havoc on all of your nerve endings.

Eddie lunges forward and begins sucking at your neck and the tops of your breasts exposed by your low neckline. Just as he adds another finger to your pussy.

“I can be efficient, too, you know,” he says before worrying your skin between his lips.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you be efficient with your shirt off?” You ask, fingers scrabbling at the hem of the garment. Eddie sits up quickly and yanks the shirt off with unnecessary, theatrical aggression, tossing it away as if it’s offended him. You reach out and trace the tattoos on his chest and he moves to lower himself back over you.

“Mmm, cool guy,” you hum, your fingers passing delicately over his inked skin. Eddie quickly unbuttons your blouse and pulls it open, gazing hungry down at your bra-clad breasts.

“Hot girl,” he responds, pressing his face juvenilely between your tits. You grasp at the hair at the back of his neck and laugh until you feel him beginning to suck on you. Then your hips are rolling into his hand. The hand that’s started to fuck you in earnest. “You look like you’re more distracted than me right now, sweetheart. Maybe you’ll be dying before me after all. That petite mort, huh?”

You’re laughing and gasping all at once. His French accent is atrocious but he’s referencing a conversation you’d had with him and Robin about orgasms the week prior. You hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention since he’d been half in argument with Steve at the time, but now you know otherwise.

“You we’re listening to that? Was - fuck - pretty sure you were focused on whatever Harrington was saying.”

“I’m always focused on you, sweetheart.”

You feel heat creeping through your body as fondness mixes with arousal. You’re impatient and you both push and pull at him all at once.

“Ok I just need you to fuck me, ok? Can we jump to that?”

“Nuh uh, I’m making you cum first.” His thumb presses harder circles into your clit and you cry out. But you shake your head dramatically side to side.

“No I want you inside me now.”

“That’s a bit pushy of you, isn’t it?” Eddie teases, but as he does so he eases his fingers out of you and brings them up to lick off your slick. You’re already unbuckling his belt and pushing down his jeans.

“No, I’m efficient. Type A, remember?” His cock springs free of his boxers and you’re ready to drool. He’s practically edible, and if you weren’t so fucking on the edge right now you’d swallow him while immediately.

“How could I forget,” he responds, voice full of gravel as he grabs his cock and pumps one twice. You lay back against the couch, legs splayed and waiting for him, divesting yourself of your bra and cupping your breasts to keep yourself worked up. “Fuck you’re a pretty picture.”

“Gonna just stare or are you gonna do something, Munson?”

“See? Pushy,” he says, even as he lowers himself on top of you and pushes his tip right into your entrance.

The teasing stops as you both come together with rolling hips and gasping breaths. His thrusts are hard and definitive and you find yourself holding on for dear life. He feels so good and right and heavy and strong and you’re so close so soon.

“Eddie…Jesus Christ I’m…” your eyes are squeezed shut and he kisses your eye lids, paradoxically sweet when juxtaposed with the harsh way he’s pounding into you.

“You gonna cum, baby?” He asks, and there’s playful mocking in his tone. If you couldn’t feel his muscles shaking, proving he is equally close, you would have felt more shame.

“Y-yeah…gonna cum.” You admit it on a whine. He feels so good and then suddenly his finger is between you, swirling over your clit again.

“Already? I guess that’s efficient of you,” he says and you clench hard when you laugh, making him let out a loud moan.

“Stop - fuck! You can’t clench like that,” he admonishes.

“Stop making me laugh then, asshole,” you say with no bite. He, however, bites your neck and laves his tongue over the skin.

“Mmmm, you’re sexy when you’re mean.”

You’re not sure what does it - his thrusts, his finger on your clit, his teasing - but one moment you’re rolling your hips into his and the next you’re writhing beneath him, cumming harder than you ever have before. You practically black out calling his name, so much so that you don’t even notice when he cums along right after you.

You come back to your senses to find him still inside you, trailing kisses up and down your throat and chest. You take a deep shuddering breath and grip weakly at his back.

“You gotta get up,” you say, pushing weakly at him with not intent behind the motion. Eddie shakes his head and buries it into your neck.

“Never.”

“I gotta get up and cross you off my checklist.” You tease with a breathless laugh which he returns.

“You can’t. We were so distracted the killer got us. We’re dead, remember?” His grin is so wide one of your trembling hands lifts automatically to trace his dimples.

“Fuck. The downside to being cool and hot is pretty disproportionate to the upside.”

“Speak for yourself,” he snorts, letting his hand come up to cup your jaw. “I’m staring at a pretty big upside.”

~*~

Tiny tag list (will come back later and add more people): @sacklerscumrag @theoncrayjoy @millenialcatlady @xxcatrenxx @cowboy-kylo

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Winter Fireflies

Summary: Despite knowing Natasha for years and dating her for a while now, you're still unaware of when her birthday is. So when Yelena lets it slip, you decide to give her a small surprise.

Authors note: Happy Birthday Natasha! 💖

Authors note 2.0: sorry this is out so late, I got distracted today lmao. Smutty birthday drabble coming later!

Word count: Marvel Masterlist Nat Masterlist

   When you walk into the kitchen, you're bummed by the abscence of Natasha. You’ve been trying to track her down since you’d woken up alone in your bed, and had already looked in practicaly every other corner and crevice of the place. Thankfully the kitchen had at least been nice enough to give up Yelena, and you were sure would know her sisters whereabouts.

   “Do you know where Nat is?” you ask, strolling over to the fridge for a much needed bottle of water

   She shrugs, “She spends a lot of time alone on her birthdays”

   You choke on the sip of water you’d just taken, “What did you just say?!”

   “Oh shit” she exclaims, eyes going wide. She knew her older sister liked to keep a lot of things close to her chest, but even she hadn’t seen this coming, “She really didn’t tell you?”

   “No.” you admit, turning your head away from the blonde

   The two of you have been together for little over a year now, and you’ve been friends for nearly five, so the fact that you still had no idea when her birthday was left you feeling more than a bit embarrassed. Because even though nobody else knew either due to Nat having Fury wipe the more personal info from all her files, you thought that the bond the two of you had that helped forge your relationship would have changed matters for you.

   Didn’t she trust you enough by now to let you in? Its not like she hadn’t opened up to you about other things. You knew about most of her experiences in the Red Room, including her massive guilt and her nightmares. You knew about the Ohio mission and her sisterly bond with Yelena. You knew about Dreykov and his abuse. So why was her birthday such an elusive subject?

   Yelenas brows furrow as she registers the multitude of different emotions etched upon her features and though this is her sisters fault for not being open with you, she feels guilty for letting the meaning of the date slip

   “I am sorry, Y/n. I thought you knew”

   You just nod and let the fridge door slam harder than intended, “Not your fault”

   You have half a mind to just turn and head to your room for the day and ignore anyone that came knocking. If your girlfriend wanted space and privacy so badly, then you’d give it to her….but the bigger part of you knew you couldn’t do that to her. Natasha isn’t doing this out of spite or to intentionally hurt you, she just gets a little lost sometimes.

   “Where does she go?”

   “I’m honestly not sure” she answers, afraid she's only dampening your modd “But I know she's always back around dinner”

   You glance at the clock and see that you have about three hours, “Wanna help me with something?”

    She notices the hint of excitement in your eyes and finds herself intrigued, “I would love to.”

    When Natasha had returned to the compound she had expected to find you in the kitchen helping Wanda make dinner, but when she didn’t find you there she imagined that you must still be up in your room. To her confusion however, you aren’t there either, and she feels a twinge of guilt knaw at her chest. She should have told you by now what today was and why it was so hard for her, she knew you’d be understanding. And regardless, should have at the very least have left you a note so you didn’t have to wonder why you’d woken up alone.

   “Sestra(sister)” 

   She spins around in your doorway, “Lena, have you seen Y/n?”

   “Funny, I was asked a very similar question from her this morning”

   The redhead shuts her eyes, “You must think I’m a terrible girlfriend”

   “No” she admits with a shake of her head, “But I do think you are very lucky to have the one that you do.”

   Nats brows furrow, “I agree, but why do I feel that has a hidden meaning?”

   The younger woman shrugs, “I wouldn’t know, but she's in your room”

   Nat nods, and though she's still suspicious she heads off to her room instead. Once there she opens the door and is met with quite the surprise. Right above the doorframe a few streamers are hung, in the corner by her widow is a bundle of different colored balloons, and in the middle of her bed sits you with a couple of boxes.

   “Kotenok(kitten), what is this?” she asks, despite the obvious answer. Afterall, she hadn’t told you so why would you celebrate her even if you did find out todays signifigance

   “Its your birthday” you reply with a smile, “I know its been a while since you celebrated, so I hope this is okay. I didn’t want to go too overboard on decorations and presents, even though you definitely deserve to be spoiled”

   Taken aback by your gesture, she finds herself beginning to get choked up, “I- yeah, yeah. Its more than fine”

   “You sure?” you ask, feeling a bit nervous that you may have overstepped

   “I’m sure.” she responds, walking twords you, “I’m sorry I never told you, I just…I never had this. In the Red Room, special occasions didn’t exist. And in Ohio, everything about them was fake. There wasn’t any real gifts, care or love and I…I didn’t want that again. I didn’t want a giant fake display of affection meant for show. I wanted something truly meant for me, something real”

   You gently cup her face and wipe away the tears that she hadn’t even realized had been forming and slipping down her cheeks, “Well, I can assure you that this is all very real, baby. And all for you”

   She gives you a soft smile, “Yeah?”

   “Yeah” you assure her, gently kissing her lips, “Now come see what I got you”

   Despite her current age, youd think she was a kid again with the dizziness she feels as you lead her over to the bed. You pull over the larger all white box first, and she immediately knows its the kind of box that bakeries have. Her eyes are practically shining with excitement as she looks back at you and you gesture for her to open it.

   Inside she finds a white circular cake thats decorated with running gold icing and intricatly made icing flowers. In the middle is a small plaque wishing her a happy birthday, and in all honesty, if this was all she ever got from now on then she’d be happy.

   “I hope you like sprinkles, I had them put them between cake layers for you.” you ramble, as you were honestly a bit nervous on how shed react to everything

   “I love sprinkles” she says, looking back at you, “And I love the cake. Thank you detka(baby)”

   You practically beam at her, “You're welcome. Now, open this”

   The next item you hand her is also in a box, only this time its black and definetly isn’t from the bakery. If she had to guess, its some form of jewerly. She takes it from you and opens it to reveal elegant golden bands, one for each wrist.

   “I’ve been working on these for a while now, Tony helped design them of course” you explain, “They can do everything your widows bites can. That way, you never have to go undercover, or even to one of Tonys galas, without them again.”

   She honestly hadn’t expected you to have remembered the brief conversation she’d had with you about how, despite practically being a weapon herself and always having a hidden gun or blade on her during undercover ops, she just feels like she’d feel more secure with her most trusted tool.

   “They don’t even look like weapons.”

   You chuckle, “Well, that was kinda the point, so I’m glad to hear that”

   She smiles at you and sets the box down to grab your hand, “Thank you, Y/n. This really has been the best birthday”

   “Don’t thank me yet, we still have one more thing” you tell her, glancing back over at her window to ensure it was dark enough outside

   “Another gift? Detka(baby), you shouldn’t have” 

    You squeeze her hand, “Actually, this ones from Yelena”

    Amused and curious, she follows as you lead her over to the widow and she lets out a soft gasp as she catshes sight of whats just beyond the compound in the woodline. Just on the edge, in a few of the pines, lay stings of light that glow a faint yellow, that flicker on and off in turn. 

   “Forrest stars” 

   Its merely a whisper, but you hear it along with the wonder in her voice. You imagine she must be reliving on of the few good childhood memories she has and you can’t help but wrap one of your arms around her and pull her closer

   “Happy birthday, baby”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2

[yuri-is-online]

Well Maybe the Octopus was Being a Dick! (Or Tsunotarou tries to do Yu a solid but he misunderstood a joke)

A/N- I am so sorry this is my first post I swear I have real writing ON GOD- EDIT- Made a part 2 with the other guys (x)

Various x Reader

"Human courtship rituals are truly as bizarre as they are fascinating."  Tsunotarou muses as you fight with your sleep deprived brain to remember how you even got on to this topic.  Today hadn't been a good day, Grim had been in a bad mood, Trein had popped a quiz on you, and Deuce had somehow managed to land you both in detention because he screwed up a potion.  By the time you managed to drag yourself back to Ramshackle, you were so tired you were practically falling over, only to find Tsunotarou pouting outside your gate.  You didn’t really have it in you to tell him no, so you’d stumbled around the woods outside your dorm for a few moments talking about… courtship?  Apparently?  You could have sworn you were just talking about some anime Idia suggested you watch.  “I never would have expected watching fish to be such a fundamental step in one’s relationship."

“Yeah there’s a thing in my world about it too.”  you say thinking about a visual novel you’d played once (or was it thirty?) times.  “Some sort of bit about a date where you go to an aquarium and when your person points out fishes they like you jump into the tank to fight them for their affection.” You blink and Tsunotarou suddenly fills your vision, staring intensely into your eyes.”

“Child of man, are you serious about this?”  he asks, and you just blink in response.  You’re pretty sure you are missing something here.

“Uh, yeah?  It was pretty funny I guess.”  you say, extremely confused.  Tsunotarou simply nods with a look of utmost seriousness on his face.

“I see, how very interesting you are child of man.  Fear not, I will make sure you receive the courtship you deserve.”  The only response you can think to give is a blank stare, but Tsunotarou is already gone and apparently on a mission.

“Fully intends to do combat for your hand but gets too distracted”- Malleus

He really wants to do this the right way, if fighting the fish in the aquarium tank will show the extent of his devotion then beloved, you need only point at the offending article and it will be turned to cosmic dust.  But you’re just too ethereal in the aquarium lighting and he ends up completely forgetting his objective in coming here and follows you around like a love struck puppy the entire time.  Whoops, objective failed successfully.

"Claims to know it's a joke, fights anyway"-Jade, Leona

Look, he knows there's no way what Malleus is claiming is even remotely true.  Your world might not have any magic, but it sounds pretty “normal” by human standards.  Fighting fish for someone’s affection?  Un-fucking-likely.  Jade enjoys being a mild inconvenience to everyone around him and Malleus really has just given him the best excuse to be an absolute menace.  He’s responding to everyone’s complaints with a put upon sigh, lamenting what drastic lengths he has to go to for your affection.  Leona’s more the type to directly tease you about it; he shredded Azul’s contracts and left him a crying mess, that’s got to count as beating up a fish right?  He’s just waiting on your response, herbivore.  

“Shrimp heaven really is now!”- FLOYD        

Doesn’t even think twice about it.  He’s already obsessed with picking fights with strong people anyway, now you’re telling him he gets to beat people up and win shrimpy’s affection at the same time?  Floyd’s kicking up his feet and giggling a little too much for anyone’s comfort, almost like he’s misinterpreted fish to mean friends.  Please prefect, Ace is begging you, just give your eel some kisses so he knows you're already his or direct him towards some actual fish before they are fuCkING UNDER ATTACK-

“Claims to know it’s a joke, overthinks anyway”- Jack, Azul, Riddle    

Ok ok look, just hear him out on this one.  Some cultures do place a significance on ritual combat to win a prospective partner’s affection.  Sure he doesn’t THINK you come from a culture like that, but maybe you do and just haven’t mentioned it this whole time and that’s why his obvious not so obvious attempts at flirtation have gone over your head.  Because he wasn’t offering to fight fish for you.  No now that he tries to say that out loud it sounds even more ridiculous BUT WHAT IF- repeat ad nauseum until he timidly (Jack, Riddle), slyly (Azul) just asks you about it and can’t decide who he’s more embarrassed for: Malleus or himself.

“Brings you actual fish”- Trey, Rook, Ruggie      

He has enough of a head on his shoulders to realize Malleus is probably misinterpreting something that was meant to be funny, but hey, it’s given him an idea.  For Rook, the idea of hunting wild game to provide you with nourishment is an idea he’s toyed with more than once.  If Roi du Dragon deems him worthy of advice, the least he can do as an appreciator of beauty is take it.  Trey’s already a fan of puns and dad jokes, and he knows A LOT of ones about fish.  Probably invites you over to help him bake it with the excuse of prepping for an unbirthday party and shamelessly teases you the whole time.  Ruggie’s the only normal man here I’m sorry to say, he just gets the idea to take you fishing as a date.  He gets to spend time with you AND supplement his diet, it’s a win-win situation.

“COMPLETELY ignores the fish thing and rags on your sleep schedule”- Vil

He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed spudling.  Really you need to be taking better care of yourself, how else are you supposed to blossom into the beautiful flower he knows you are if you aren’t getting those full 8 hours honey?  Tells you to be thankful he isn’t being unreasonable while he’s waltzing through your dorm cursing every energy drink he can get his hands on.  He will brute force your circadian rhythm back into shape so help him GOD.

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

[kazehita]

hi! i noticed your recent post recommending the fic natural satellite and i think i've noticed other isat fics around your blog too. because of that, i was wondering if you had a list of recommended isat fics! i will admit i am not someone who just peruses around on ao3 but i love reading about these characters so if you have any recs, i would greatly appreciate them! thanks and i hope you have a lovely day :3

I love ALL isat fic - each and every one is so special and wonderful - but if I listed the whole archive that wouldn't really help huh... So! Im going to list just some off the top of my head., this is in no way definitive. Isat spoilers ahead - get all the way through the game and the secret before proceeding.

Big recommendation list below:

Additionally, mind the tags for each fic - I wont be specifying the content warnings here.

(don't just read the complete ones!!! Incomplete fic is just as delightful I promise :3)

Complete: Bloom - Level99Eevee Most people know it, it sits at the top of the tag! It's my every wish fulfilled for post-cannon moments.

Memories of defeat - dirtbagtrashcat Stuff in and immediately after the loops, fantastic extrapolations!!!! Very much Loop <33 I find this very grounded and realistic!!!!

Emotion Sickness - dirtbagtrashcat Post cannon fun/trauma with siffrin and the gang.

Memories of Touch - dirtbagtrashcat look i just really like their work sjkdjkfjkasdf its all good go through their profile. This is Isa thoughts.

And if I were not myself, would this be easier? - rabbit_soup Post-game! I love how they flesh out the world.

The Understudy - kittyorange Suuuuch a loop fic I love it to bits. Post cannon loop and the gang stuff.

Star-Speckled Skin - Lora_Blackmane Funn angsty moment, title is very descriptive. Lives in my head rent free.

Clinging to dying embers - Coffeewolf67 Odile's perspective of sif using the dagger. appropriate content warnings apply :)

between the end and a new start - glowingjellyfishtreelights SICKFICCC I had a very funny experience with this one where due to memory mishaps I got to read it for the first time twice! Absolute banger.

What's in a name? - Raaj Explores siffrins love of plays. I have to regularly reread this for my brain to function.

Starstruck - Dusk_Illusionist Isa yearns. The fic. It rocks.

Saturn Devouring His Son (Time Choking on Stone Choking on Blood)- BasilPaste Post cannon moment... I like it...

(Why) you can't let them know by Mayasynth sasasap fic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i like it. i hold it. i like it. UGH theres more but I have already listed so many.. my other favorites... im so sorry.,.. i love you guys too... Incomplete:

How To Rest by rabbit_soup Sequel to "And if i were not myself, would this be easier?" Loop is here and I love violence.

TRY IT AGAIN, CHEATER! by discatded "[Loop returns to their own universe after everything. It's hard.]" - from the summary. Love it love it. I will never get enough of this premise.

To Extend our Reach to the Stars Above by Cinnamin_Is_a_Star "Sif if he was team rocket" and is so fun. Very excited to see this one pan out!

until we move on. by Anonymous (also known as lozy) LOOP MY BELOVED..! loop returns to their universe and promptly looses it like the universe intended. Cant get enough of it.

Natural Satellite by dirtbagtrashcat If a single fic makes me the Most insane its natural satellite if I'm honest.... like bro... It just gets right to me...

Sunder by Miranda_tries_their_best Post-cannon Loop fic!! They travel on their own for a bit (but not forever), and I love it dearly.

Face the Light by Kaimiiru Post-game, I hold it close to my heart.... Ah... It's so dear to me.

These next two are sloop so if that's not your thing you have been warned :]

raconte-moi qu’on puisse crier tout bas by bibliomaniac I'm holding this high above my head so everyone can see it the characterization is off the charts.

To Cut You Open With a Knife and Find Your Sacred Heart by Hexea_Art Changeling Loop fic!! What a fun concept. I am excited to see where it goes. yay! AGAIN... THERE ARE SO MANY I LOVE SO MUCH but im forcing myself not to look through the tag else I'd add everything. Honestly, I do recommend just launching right on into the ao3 tag for ISAT even if you aren't super familiar with ao3. Just be sure to filter out anything you don't want to see!

Consider this a good starting point ^^

[starberry-cupcake]

I've been reading, but didn't have time to sit down and do this, so you're getting a bit of a mess in this one, sorry about that!

I want to clarify, before starting, that if I ask questions to the void in these posts, or if I wonder very loudly about something, I'm not really looking for answers immediately nor am I doubting that things will be explained later, I promise I trust the process. If something's going to be explained, somewhere in the books, I'll get there eventually, I promise I will. You have probably noticed by now but, if you give me a hint, I'm gonna grab onto it for dear life, so better not give me anything at all. Just leave me here to die, I beg you.

previously, in harrowberry the ninth:

this happened

currently, chapters 17-19:

I'm gonna start by the end, actually

which maybe is fitting for this book

but I'll start by the end because I have a new theory and I feel this one in my bones

(pun intended)

I might be totally off but I'm gonna say it anyway because I'm excited about this one

so much so that you'll get no memes while I explain it

it's about G and P

yes, I know, I'm fixated with that, but hear me out

I think Lyctortus isn't actually called Ortus

I think his name is Gideon

let me explain

at the end of chapter 19 (I'll get there, but I need this off my chest, I really do) harrow asks mercygirl why ortus the first wants her dead

to which mercygirl distractedly answers "who?"

that's the last thing I read so far, but it got my wheels turning so fast I came running to write it down

I thought "wait, what if, just like ortus is replacing gideon in the gideon-less re-telling, the name is also a replacement?"

so I went to the character list and lyctortus's cavalier was called pyrrha

so what if they're G and P

Gideon and Pyrrha the Second

and what if the Gideon in the paper was this guy

so this is not a case of Ortus 1 and 2 but of Gideon 1 and 2

not!dulcinea told our gideon "you're very brave—a bit like another Gideon I used to know. But you're prettier in the eyes"

which is, all things considered, actually funny, because it's a reversal of what mercygirl was saying, that yandere twin and harrow aren't as pretty as their predecessors

I'm gonna risk looking like a fool later and calling this now because I really feel this one

again, let me clarify, I'm not asking you to tell me whether I'm right or wrong or anything at all, I'm just placing my bets with myself

and I know starting by the end isn't really the best way to go about a recap, but I think I'm on to something

MOVING BACK, to chapter 17

harrow starts looking into mercygirl for her new and probably not improved diary, because she knows less things now

augustine the saint of annoyance tells harrow that mercygirl and him are the oldest lyctors in the band and that it took generations for these space planet destroyers to assemble

emperor john silver tells harrow that his stupid nicknames that don't fit were meant to represent the cavaliers and not the necros

of course augustine's brother was patient, he had to put up with augustine

mercygirl is also a body expert

an anatomist, if you will

which will come in handy later/earlier (later in the reading order, earlier in the timeline order)

augustine says that he didn't bother learning that because the only use for it would be to kill lyctors

tbh it'd come in handy right now that I want to kill him, but I digress

here, harrow again mentions that ortus the first (also known as lyctortus, also known as allegedly gideon the first, also known as I'm super super sure of this you guys) wants her dead

CHAPTER 18

we're back on canaan house in the gideon-less version

these are the chapters I'm having the most fun with, which wasn't what I expected

I don't know why, I really like this whole re-written mystery thing

the slasher film vibes have doubled this time

I keep drawing parallels and enjoying my time with these old and new friends

and, talking about old and new friends, judith is dead

remember judith? remember how she died?

it wasn't like this

in this gideon-less version, instead of becoming besties with the sixth, harrow and ortus have become besties with the fifth

because 1) the fifth didn't die and 2) the fifth is in a polycule with ortus

with gideon there, they befriended the sixth because gideon saw camilla fight 5 seconds and was like "she's friend shaped :)"

so, the fifth and the ninth are taking care of judith's corpse

she was shot repeatedly with a carbine rifle

harrow says "it would have been like being set upon by a ghost out of time"

gonna put that in the 3d model

martita is outside and she's the only pseudo witness to this situation

the gideon-less version of the deaths so far is being handled like this

martita says to harrowbean "why am I here?"

she explains that they were doing the two door test thingy and, while she was in the other room, judith was shot

now, here's the thing

I thought the Sleeper that had been mentioned was the construct thing but no, it's not

it's a new thing

I'm picturing sorta this

it very well could be a person though

it's person shaped

huh

it's in a coffin where it sleeps unless it's woken up, but they don't know how it wakes up, because martita went to town kicking and punching the coffin after judith was obliterated and nothing happened

and what keeps it contained, snow white style, isn't plex glass, plex or glass

ortus proceeds to say a eulogy

martita says "Is this really how it happens?" like we've been hearing all this time

harrowbean tries to make her feel better by telling her that, at least judith died quickly

mmm...about that

martita says "No. That's not...Don't know why I thought...No."

martita doesn't know judith died slowly and painfully and wrong about everything btw, she died first, it memory serves

but still, savage

harrow regrets not telling ortus to take the pledge of silence and says "but only a very obedient idiot of a cavalier would have stuck to that"

she's your obedient idiot, though, harrow

so, the rundown is this:

the sleeper can move

the sleeper can pass necromantic wards

the sleeper shouldn't be waken

people don't know what wakes it

it has a rifle

the sleeper is lying on top of sword that's a two-hander

me, having breakfast while reading this

I didn't mention this but

harrow and abby say that judith was killed by a deadly shot and then was subsequently used for target practice and left like a colander without any reason for it

judith disrespected camilla, so

that's what you get, bitch

CHAPTER 19

we travel in time, but in the timeline of the emperor's bolthole

because WHY NOT, AT THIS POINT

we're keeping track anyway *picks back up the timeline I keep discarding and re-using*

this one is 10 months before the emperor johnny boy is ended, so this is before what we've been reading

we are told the following essential info:

harrow has written a letter for yandere twin in case of harrow's death that says: "Get what joy you can from my corpse, you devious bitch"

filed under potential resignation letter drafts

apparently a lyctor can live without food but not without water

so harrowcita is getting herself a sopita

and then lyctortus also known as I'm sure he's gideon the first stabs her

this tiny baby kitten with her sopita

man has no heart

no decency

no decorum

not his real name, according to me

mercygirl helps harrow with a lot of skill (those anatomy skills we talked about) but not much empathy

she tells alleged gideon who goes by ortus, when he says "I do things face-to-face" that "that is what got you into trouble nineteen years ago"

HELLO TIMELINE

nineteen years ago takes us back to the whole leader of the BOE going missing and gideon's mom drifting into space and the person sent with the eggs and all that

well, the eggs thing isn't directly related yet but I'm relating it

especially since there were lies involved and somebody sent to placate another somebody

DUDE CAN YOU IMAGINE

IF HE WAS INVOLVED WITH GIDEON'S MOM IN SOME WAY

AND OUR GIDEON IS NAMED AFTER THIS GIDEON????

LIKE ON PURPOSE????

HELLO?????????

AGAIN, NOBODY TELL ME, I'M ASKING AT THE VOID

YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE IMPULSE OF TELLING ME BUT DON'T DO IT

I'm making up telenovela theories about how this gideon could be involved into our gideon's mom business and our gideon being named after him

and gideon's superpowers of being hercules having something to do with all this

I need to stop before I say too much and then feel embarrassed at my theories

ALSO

gideon ortus wants harrow's sword

harrowbean doesn't want to give it to him

it is at this point when mercygirl says "who?" at harrow's question about "ortus", so we end how we begun, because today it's that kind of day

also, another day without her coming home

I may be late but boy do I have theories. And yeah, nobody tell me any spoilers, please. Let me make a fool of myself.

[nunalastor]

Hi! So I have never done this before but saw people sending you hcs, thought it was fun, wanted to join in! (English is my 2. Language so sorry for the mistakes!)

Mine is that Alastor sucks when it comes to bed time activities. In a lit of fic he is a "natural" and does everything perfect. But I think that it would be really funny, if thats what he thought of himself as well. He has a tendency of thinking too highly of himself, so imagine if his attitude towards sex was the "how hard could it be" approach (no pun intended).

And so, when Lucifer and Alastor somehow end up in bed together, Alastor super confident. He has never done it before, sure, but he knows how pathetic man are when it comes to sexual matters (his opinion) and they are very easy to arouse. And then he will perform the quickest, most mechanical dry af blowjob Lucifer has ever seen. The whole thing is over in a heartbeat, the mood is non existent and Lucifer looks absolutely dumbfounded. He may not even finish, just tells Alastor to stop because this is clearly not working. He says something like "well, that was an experience". Alastor may think for a moment that yes, of course, his majesty must be impressed by his skills and he almost starts patting himself on the back for his performance when Lucifer continues: lets just forget about this. Thanks for the effort I guess.

And Alastor just freezes because what? Is the king of hell saying that it wasnt good? Is he trying to suggest that Alastor is bad at something? Bad at something that Lucifer claims to be an expert at (silver tounge and all that). And this is what really makes him mad lol! Alastor is asexual but he needs to one up Lucifer in every little thing possible. So after a lot of arguing he ends up experiencing the best bj of his entire life & afterlife. And now he is really pissed! He just retreats to the shadows and Lucifer thinks that its finally over.

It was a strange afternoon but hey, it will never happen again, right? Alastor did not get the memo tho. Because even tho Lucifer wants nothing more than to forget, the Radio Demon keeps seeking him out, trying to flirt (badly) and also he insist on showing him "a good time".

Because Alastor never gives up, he tries to learn but its a slow process. Its not an instant success, everytime he makes the king moan, he might be proud of himself, bit it will only last until Lucifer shows him something even better and then he needs to try to be even better! And thats their little dance they do. (Because I am a sucker for happy ending they catch feelings after a while ofc.)

(Also, I think that Lucifer could be sex-favorable asexual. )

👀

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Intrigued With You

I ii iii iiii

Yandere! Pinocchio x Fem! Mechanic! Reader

Warnings: Implied toxic familial relationship, unbalanced power dynamics between the reader and Geppetto, very slight mental breakdown, slowly going into a downwards spiral, paranoia, mentioned past violence and stalking. When the full game comes out, this work may be completely different from the actual game. Please tell me if I missed any.

This blog contains/creates/interacts with dark content.

Minors/blank blogs/blogs that don’t reblog any fan art or fan fiction DNI.

Word count:3096k

Over all story summary: Your uncle’s puppet takes a bit too much of an interest in you: in which you fucked up in this chapter.

==

The public’s opinion of you started to go downhill since then.

It’s been a week, and while most of the citizens won’t throw rocks or stalk you, they still stare – glares that are sharper than a knife, cutting deep into your arteries. You could practically feel the blood oozing out, a puddle forming underneath you as you stood on the stage, heart threating to explode any second now. The crowd just stares, and the puppet next to you cheers. How funny. The damn puppet is offering you more support than the intended audience.

Your foot taps against the wood. Your head throbs and you hold back a scream. You’re a monkey in a circus and they’re throwing peanuts at you.

“Hello everyone. I am here today to introduce a new, and improved, Nanny Puppet, upgraded with new codes and everything.” Your smile is strained, some of the people cheering with others sitting in silence. Seems as though some are genuinely interested and perhaps even excited about the new developments.

Glancing at your uncle who rests behind the curtains to the side, he nods his head.  But most of his attention was on the puppet rather than you. “And it even comes with settings you can adjust yourself at home.”

The Nanny cheers again, robotic, and staticky still. So lifeless, its entire being written on a script. But as you look over the crowd on the wooden stage, head light and heart thumping like thunder, you feel the same. From the way you are standing, to the wave of your hands and your words, is all scripted.

A script written by your uncle.

“Now, come,” you gesture to The Nanny, and it listens, turning its back towards the crowd as you stand next to it. There’s buttons and latches, and you undo them all, with a quick ‘sorry,’ uttered into its ‘ear.’ A habit you picked up from the years of working with your uncle.

And with the rise of malfunctions, part of you thinks it’s for the best. Pretend you’re sorry to them, and maybe when everything goes south, they’ll take pity on you. Paranoia doesn’t look good on you, you realize, showing the audience the off switch, the lights in its eyes dimming as it turns off. This wasn’t a new feature.

But the kill switch is.

“As you can see, the power switch is still enabled, even in these new models. So, don’t worry about that, but!” you bring out a control panel from your waistcoat pocket. It’s small enough to fit in your hand, and on the black surface lies a red button, a little glass cap covering it. To prevent any accidental touches. You grip it a little too hard.

“This right here is a kill switch. Now, I’m not going to press it,” your thumb rubs circles over the cap. You can’t find it in you to force another smile, mentally and physically drained from everything. “But the moment you press it, the puppet will immediately shut down… but it won’t turn on again, either.”

There’s some ‘ooo’s’ and ‘awe’s,’ but the silence of the rest is what puts you on edge. They’re most likely the protesters. You wouldn’t be surprised if this stage would set fire any minute now. You shudder at the thought. Another glance at your uncle – he nods, again.

But his eyes are still mostly focused on the puppet. You can’t tell if it is in interest, hope, or disappointment. Just like how you can’t tell if there’s still warmth in his eyes when he looks at you.

“How does it work?”

You blink, off guard. A woman raised her hand, curious eyes drilling into you. You prepared yourself for this, practicing in front of a mirror for hours on end. You got this. You need to. You might fall apart otherwise.

“So, essentially, it – “

“Or, how about you don’t make them at all? The puppets, I mean.” A man speaks up, hat hiding his gaze, but you feel the hatred and frustration radiating off him in waves. You prepared yourself for this too. But reality still sends you reeling back mentally, the thought of rocks being thrown, or stage set on fire. At least he pretends to be respectful, even with his group frowning at you.

Your body trembles the slightest bit.

“Oh – um… I understand where you come from. It’s… it can be difficult to see use in the puppets, but they’re mostly here for when you can’t do something or need extra help…” you can’t tell if you’re lying to him or saying the truth – it’s all part of the script. And truthfully, you agree with him.

You just keep your mouth shut on the matter.

“They’re taking our jobs, you know? Oh wait, you probably don’t – you’re well-off, producing and selling these… things.” The same man shakes his head before pushing others out of his way – he stops just shy of an inch before the stage. “You don’t have to worry about them stealing your job. For now, at least.”

He adjusts his hat, and the contempt in his eyes is so heavy you’re on the verge of drowning. You swallow. You do know, you do, but it’s not like you could do anything. You already tried, you tried, but talking doesn’t work and –

“Alright, alright, I think that’s enough for now.” Your uncle comes out, places a hand on your shoulder. It feels more restricting than comforting. “It’s been a rather long day for everyone, hasn’t it? The sun is going down, and dinner time is drawing near. Same place and time tomorrow, as it was yesterday and today.”

Unlike you, he sounds confident. Gentle, but firm, and yet, you’re starting to grow more wary of him than the protesters. You wish you could hurry and pick a side. Money or no money, everything was starting to seem more futile, meaningless. You want to live under a rock.

Live under a rock and become separated from your job. You tap your foot more aggressively, biting your lip once your back is turned to the crowd. Your hands twitch even with the control in your hands.

He doesn’t leave room for debate, guiding you on the shoulder to walk down the stage and to his little personal workshop. The police – puppets, again – prevent anyone from getting close. You weren’t here yesterday; it was just him. Did he go through the same thing? Is that why he’s so calm, so natural about it?

Or was he always like this? Disconnected from everything that did not concern his work, his dreams? His puppet, his –

“… Uncle,” you fiddle with the control in your hands. “Did anyone accompany you yesterday?” You can’t find it in you to look at him. Can’t even talk properly, no matter how hard you try to accept everything, like you should. It’s expected of you. And maybe it is because of that, that you can’t find yourself willing to do so.

“Mm. Howard did. It was a welcomed surprise.” He chuckles low in his throat, adjusting his hat as you make way home. Guilt immediately starts to boil within, your heart squeezing painfully as your throat closes in on itself. “He’s a fine young man indeed.”

“He is, isn’t? Such a nice young man…” you agree, nodding your head, ignoring the gnawing at your chest. You care about him, dreadfully so, to the point it was horribly painful. Which was why you tried to keep him out of your business.

But he was just so stubborn.

“Hm,” he takes a glance at you; eyes shifting from one side to another. You see it but don’t think much of it. But even so, you can’t ignore the lack of warmth in his gaze. “I heard he’s been visiting you more often now. Are you two perhaps…?”

“No! No, it’s not like that. It won’t ever be like that again.” You laugh, shaking your head. You fidget with the control more. You look down at your hands – scars and light burns decorate them like tattoos. No longer as ‘pretty’ as society would like to describe.

The though brings out a laugh.

“It just won’t work out.”

“How come?” He sounds interested, but not in a caring way – it was in a way that made you feel like a test subject. “You were such a great pair. He would have made an excellent son-in-law for your parents.”

You grit your teeth. “Yeah. He would have. But that’s neither here nor there; it’s in the past. And it will forever remain in the past.” Your face feels hot – anger? Shame? Annoyance and irritation jabbing at every corner of your very being, you try your best to remain stoic about the conversation. Even if you subconsciously know he’s taking a jab at you.

Even though he has no reason to.

You were sure of it now – all of the warmth that was inside your uncle was slowly becoming cold. Was he always this type of man? Cold? Disconnected from everything? But surely, there was still some left for you, right?

A faint chuckle. “I apologize – I shouldn’t have brought up the subject. I wasn’t aware that it was still a touchy subject.” His fingers dig into your shoulder before his grip loosens. He pats it twice before fully letting you go, turning his head to smile at you.

You think it was meant to be gentle. “It’s fine. It was my fault for… assuming you had other intentions by bringing it up.” It’s a lie. It wasn’t fine, and you both know that. But it should be okay, because he’s a man you consider to be your uncle, and of course uncle Geppetto always wants what’s best for you. It would crush you if he didn’t.

“Mm, that’s the spirit. Don’t let anything drag you down.” You’re at his personal workshop now, the wind picking up. It’s getting colder. The leaves are starting to fall more and more, flowers wilting as the days go by. Just like you.

“Now then, I hope you take great care of him. I have other business to attend to, but I wanted to make sure you made it back safe and sound.” Your uncle gives you exactly two pats on the back. Adjusting his glasses, he turns to look at you, smiling.

Smiling, smiling, smiling – it’s all he does. It’s what unnerves you the most. It’s what the citizens hate about him. It’s what unarms your family. It’s what feels the most inhuman about him.

“Yes, of course,” you reply, nodding your head. Your fingers start scrapping against the control gently. Foot tapping, you attempt to smile. “I would never harm… it. It is also my project, you know?”

It wasn’t.

“Mm, yes, of course. Thank you for all your hard work.” And with a tilt of his hat, he’s off – you watch his retreating back, the muscles with every movement. You just realized he could easily overpower you.

Your fingers dig harder into the control until you can feel your fingernails digging into your own flesh. You wonder if he would turn against you if you were to abandon this job field.

--

Two hours and forty minutes.

That’s how long you have been tampering with the legion arm – your uncle begged you to stop calling it a mechanical arm – greasing it, tightening the screws, making sure that the fingers curl just like a real hand would. And of course it did – it should, especially since nearly all your paychecks and funds go into this puppet and not your own personal life.

Two hours and forty minutes, plus two months and you’re barely about to be done with this damn thing. You finished two other ones before this, but even then, you might have to ‘fix’ them. Make sure that they’re up to your uncle’s very high standards.

“Fuck… why am I even working on this thing? This is the least of our concerns, not to mention – ow, fuck!” In your hurry to get another type of screwdriver, you pushed over a failed ‘heart’ test dummy. It lands directly on your foot, causing you to drop everything else as you hold it with your trembling hands.

They were doing that more often. “Wow, okay, great. Sure, let’s just let everything fall on you. God, I’m going crazy. I might turn into a menace before the protesters and puppets do.” Running a hand through your hair, you pace back in forth, biting your free thumb.

Every time you enter this godforsaken place, your sanity dwindles bit by bit. “Okay, let’s calm down – my foot isn’t bleeding, I think. I should… I should take a break.” Despite your words, you go back to working – picking up the old ‘heart’ and placing it back on the messy table.

Research papers messily stacked at a corner, puppet parts scattered all over, grease stains on the wood. The table wears scratch marks like medals of honor. Pausing for a moment, you walk to the far-right side of the table, picking up the papers and placing them into a clean square bin on the floor. You kick it to some random corner of the workshop.

The urge to rip them to shreds is, in a way, comforting. If those were gone, how could you continue on? They even had blueprints. Nails dig into your palms at the thoughts. Not harsh enough to draw blood, however.

“Hm, I should clean up… but what’s the point? Everything gets scattered again, uncle moves the parts to the most random of places, Howard ends up losing them… so much to do, such little time.”

Ranting to yourself, you stomp to the table again, picking up the new and ‘official’ heart for the puppet. You remember putting it elsewhere. In a drawer. Safe and sound.

And yet, it was on this stupid, stupid table –

“Are they trying to kill me?” you mumble out, on the verge of pulling out strands of your hair. “Not only that, but the fact I could have been harmed today… he knows they already threw stones at me, why make me appear in public again? Why get on the wooden stage that could easily be consumed by fire?”

Without thinking, you stride over to the puppet sitting on the red plush chair. When you’re shy a few inches from it, you take a moment to admire its beauty – the eyes were closed. Long eyelashes that cast shadows onto pale, freckled ‘skin.’ The carob brown hair still looked as soft as ever, with messy curls that remind you of his hair back when he was younger.

Back when everything was normal. Gentler times where warmth wasn’t forced into honeyed words, when you weren’t so scared of being beaten to death. When everything was fine. Happy.

It was missing the left arm – the legion arm. You cast a glance behind you, spotting the arm on the table. That’s the one he wants to put on for now. The most simple, basic one, no complicated functions, no paint, just metal. You decide to leave it.

Turning to face the puppet again, tilting your head, you really take in its appearance; it has an average body type. Maybe a bit more on the lean side, but aside from the pretty face and missing arm, it looked human. It looked normal.

And that’s what scares you.

“…,” against your better judgement, your hand reaches out. Fingertips graze against the cheeks, feeling how cold and smooth it was. It’s flawless compared to your hand. You pause to see if the puppet will move at your touch. When it doesn’t, you bring your hand up, taking a closer step to it. The hair was soft, fluffy. It didn’t feel fake like it should.

It felt real.

“… I shouldn’t be doing this. Hah. I really am going crazy.” The thread that was holding your sanity together was close to snapping. Again, against your better judgement, you act on impulse. Unbuttoning the white button-down, you feel your heart drop at how… human it looks.

But upon closer inspection, there was a thin line, forming a square across the chest. There was a little screw, the opening to inside of the chest. Huffing, you dig into your overcoat pocket, retrieving the specific screwdriver – your uncle makes you carry it like a lifeline. However, you are not sure if he thought it through – what if someone mugged you?

Your hand hesitates as you hold the screwdriver, hovering by the opening. The ‘heart’ was still in your hands. It starts to beat slowly, almost as if coming to life. “… Uncle might kill me if I mess with his favorite puppet…”

Instead of heeding your own words, you open the chest cavity, placing the screwdriver back into your pocket. You’ve seen it before; hollow, wires connecting with each other and to the sides. There’s a small open space where a human heart would be. You look at the one in your hand before nodding your head.

You were acting rebellious, in a way. And it may very well lead into your downfall, either being killed by a puppet going haywire or by your uncle’s red, blinding rage.

You hesitate before gently putting the ‘heart’ into its assigned area. Connecting the wires to it, patting it, watching as it starts to glow, beating steadily. You did not think twice about your actions. After a second, you close it, screwing it shut before walking serval steps away.

Nothing happens.

“Hah… ha-ha, what was I thinking? I went from zero to a hundred within a few minutes… I should take a few days off. Maybe even a week…” chuckling to yourself, you rub your head. You’re getting a migraine. Much be too much caffeine, that coffee would eventually kill you.

Turning around, you walk away from the puppet, heading towards the door to get some fresh air. To force some sanity back into your head before you scream your lungs out and pull out every single strand of your hair out. The longer you stay here, the worse you become.

Creak.

You stop in your tracks, blood turning cold. No. surely not – your eyes widen when you realize how stupid you are. You were dumb enough to connect the wires to the heart. But! When your uncle did that, this didn’t –

You turn your head around so fast you almost snap your neck. Your heart drops.

It opens its eyes, and the first thing it sees is you.

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[patito-oward]

No I in Team

masterlist

WC: 11.7k

Summary: You’ve just started a new job as a social media manager at Arrow McLaren, and get off onto the wrong foot with your insanely attractive new coworker.

Tags: angst, fluff, smut, 18+

February

This is what you’ve been working for since you were 13. Your first trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway was love at first sight. Since then, you’ve revolved your life around racing and getting to every race possible.

You studied marketing and public relations in high school and have now gotten your dream job working as the social media manager at Arrow McLaren.

You’re starting your first day by joining a full team meeting at the team’s headquarters. Except walking around the large building, you can’t seem to find the intended conference room. You’re looking down at your phone, trying to decipher the directions in your email, when you collide with a solid body.

Before you even look up, an apology is spilling out of your mouth. "Oh my god, I am so sorry-" You cut yourself off when you realize who you’ve just bumped into.

"Just watch where you’re going."

"I’m so, so sorry, it’s just my first day and I have no idea where I’m going, the email I got said conference room on the second floor, but this place is huge and I’m all turned around." You only stop to breathe, realizing you’ve run into not only an indycar legend but a now-coworker, Pato O’ward, and have completely embarrassed yourself.

"I’m headed there; follow me." He was very straight to the point, but you nodded and thanked him.

When you walked into the conference room, you found a few faces of people you recognized from interviews and more you recognized from watching the sport. The meeting began, and plans for the new season were being discussed. You were introduced to the group, but mainly to Pato, Alex, and Felix as the new head of the team’s social media.

Everyone was very welcoming, making jokes with you and telling you not to believe Rossi when he acts annoyed whenever you make him do anything. Overall, you had a really great morning.

After the full team meeting, you were set to have a meeting with just the drivers, owners, and a PR team. You had a 30-minute break between the meetings where you overheard a conversation between Pato and Felix.

"Y/N seems cool." Felix's saying your name caught your attention. "It’ll be nice to have someone young running the social media make sure it stays relevant."

"I guess, yeah." Pato seemed unsure and dismissive.

"You’re not sure?"

"She already seems like a walking disaster. This morning she was staring at her phone and ran straight into me, and then she told me she couldn’t find the conference room, and it was right there. And she talks so much." He puts emphasis on the so much, and you take a little offense; you were just trying to be nice. Felix doubles over laughing. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, mate," He can barely get his words out because he’s laughing so hard. "you just described yourself, that’s all."

"Oh, come on! I am not that bad!"

You’re glad Felix is defending you and seems to like you, but still, you wish Pato felt the same. It’ll make this job really awkward if he’s never cooperative with what you need to do.

Your second meeting of the day goes okay. The team wants you to share a little of what you have planned for the socials and discuss how these things are usually done. Everyone on the team seems really receptive to your ideas, and you’ve seemed to charm the room. You’re joking with the team owners about making the drivers do trends, and Felix and Alex are laughing along with you. Pato doesn’t talk much unless spoken to, and you just wish this day had started out better.

After your meeting, you were free to leave for the day. As you’re walking towards the elevator, Felix calls out to you. When you turn to face him, he begins to speak. "I’m sorry about Pato; I don’t know what’s up with him, but he’s definitely acting off today. Just give him time and he’ll warm up to you; you’re doing a great job already." You smile at him and thank him genuinely.

You really hope he’s right and Pato’s just having an off day. You start working with the team immediately, so whatever has him upset, he’s hopefully over by the morning.

March

Unfortunately, that is not the case; a whole month has gone by, and Pato still hasn’t warmed up to you. He’s in no way rude; he’ll do whatever you ask him to, and he’s always polite, but he’s never been personable with you.

You watch him during interviews and photo shoots, and he makes everyone in the room laugh. He’s kind to everyone, introduces himself to everyone in the room, and immediately becomes the center of it. You can see that he’s an entertainer at heart, and you wish he’d be like that with you. Even in more personal and private settings, he’s still very outgoing.

He’s so loud talking to Fro and Alex that you can often hear him through walls. He has a great relationship with his pit crew; he is so personable with them whenever he’s around them and will ask them about their wives and kids. If you’re ever in a room alone, it’s always very silent, and he answers you in the shortest way possible. Mostly, he’ll make up an excuse to leave the room or call someone in.

All of this keeps making you wonder where you’re going wrong. Rossi and Felix both seem to really like you; you’ve started getting along really well with both of their partners, and occasionally they will invite you to drinks after a day at work. They even tried to talk you into watching the Firestone GP with them in Rossi’s motorhome despite your having to work.

You’ve become friends with most of the team, and you’ve become really great friends with an engineer on the team, she’s been teaching you a lot about the makeup of the car during your downtimes. This job was so perfect, you just wish you knew why a certain driver seemed to have it out for you.

The Firestone GP that kicks off the season was a small letdown for the team. Rosenqvist had the best finishing position in 8th place, Rossi in 10th, and Pato in 13th. The team has been working so hard and really thought that they’d start the season off much better than this.

April

The team has been working a month straight at improving speed for Texas, and they’ve found some. During Friday practice, Rossi and Rosenqvist showed a lot of speed and were 3rd and 5th, but O’ward was still 9th, leaving the team to wonder where they were going wrong with him.

While walking by his garage, you notice a few engineers, including your new friend, and Pato watching his in-car footage from practice. As you watch, you notice what’s going on. You watch for another lap to make sure. "You’re going into the turns too fast, breaking heavy late, and by the time you’ve regained control of the car, you’ve ended up losing time." It feels like every eye in the speedway turns to you in that moment, like you could hear a pin drop in the garage.

Before anyone says anything, they simply rewind the tape and watch a lap. You watch everyone watch the screen as he goes into a turn, starts losing the car, then breaks heavy while getting it back under control. It happens three more times, and a mechanic speaks. "Holy shit, she’s right."

Pato takes the car back out, and in the few laps he’s able to do, his speed has skyrocketed. The speed he has now would have him at P1.

When he gets back into his pit, he’s celebrating with the team all around, and then he approaches you. "Thank you so much! You’ve saved my ass for this race."

"It’s no problem, really.”

Pato qualified for P3 the next day and finished the race 2nd. It's been a way better weekend for the team, and everyone is buzzing with energy.

After the race, Alex and Fro ask you to join them for celebratory drinks at a bar near the speedway. You join them and their partners, as well as Pato, and you all have a great time. You even got some content for Instagram and TikTok.

Everyone’s feeling pretty good and has a decent amount of liquor in their systems when Pato approaches you. "I owe you an apology."

You really were confused by this. "What?"

"Over the way I’ve been acting, I don’t even know why; I think I was just having a bad day and then got too stubborn to admit that I was wrong."

"Oh, it’s okay, water under the bridge." You try to wave it off, as this conversation feels very awkward.

No, I’ve been a total jerk for no real reason, and you haven’t deserved it, so I really am sorry. Can I please just have another chance at introducing myself?"

"You never introduced yourself in the first place."

He looks sheepish. "Another thing I’m sorry for." Holding out his right hand, he says, "Hi, I’m Pato. I’m glad you’re joining the team. I’m sure you’ll make a great addition."

"Hi, Pato, I’m YN; it’s so nice to finally meet you." When you shake his hand, you can see him soften a bit and his demeanor change, and you really hope that everything from the last two months really is water under the bridge in the morning.

You had a week and a half break after that, where you were only required to make a few posts and had one meeting. When you returned to work at Long Beach, Pato brought you coffee. You were shocked, but glad that fences really were mended.

April also held the first practice for the 500, which showed great promise for the team.

May

You and Pato have turned into fast friends. It turns out the two of you really are a lot alike. As you’ve entered the most important month for the sport, you cannot be more glad that things have been smoothed over.

Now that you’re close with all three of the boys, you’re often drugged into content whenever you’re filming it. The boys will often start arguing and look to you to settle it, or when you make them do a challenge, you have to clarify the winner.

Pato will even ask you to follow certain trends he’s seen floating around, and whenever you reveal that in a caption, his fans go crazy.

You don’t just begin to get closer professionally, though; when Pato finds out you’re a fan of the Marvel movies, he gets very excited to have someone on the team to watch them with. During the first week of May, he invited you to come watch Iron Man with him after a day of work, and you accepted.

When you first walked into his motorhome, it was definitely a little awkward; you didn’t really know where to sit or what to do with yourself. He quickly eased the tension, though. "Sit on the seat with the blue blanket; I dug it out in case you’d want it. I always keep it cold in here because I like to snuggle under a blankie."

You laughed at him. "Blankie? Are you five?"

"No! I’m just a sensitive guy who likes to be warm."

"Thank you for getting a blankie out for me too."

"Do you want anything to drink? I have water, electrolit, topo chico.."

"You realize we’re in private; you don’t have to endorse your sponsors to me."

He gives you a dirty look from the fridge and says, "You are so funny. I’ll have you know that I just don’t keep the fridge very stocked, and my sponsors provided all this."

"I’ll take a topo chico, please." You give him a sickly sweet smile from your place curled up on the loveseat, and he brings one for you and one for himself. You place both in the cup holders between you. "Thank you, sir."

"Don’t call me that, it's weird. I’m going to order food, did you eat or should I order you something too?"

"You don’t have to order me something; I’ll order myself food."

"Don’t be silly; I invited you; I’ll pay for takeout." He opens Grub Hub and starts scrolling through options. "You know what the worst part about frequent travel is?" You hum out a response. "I never know what food is good. I have no clue where to order from."

Oh, I know. My family and I used to always get food from this Chinese place on race weekend. Here it is." You pulled up the place on your phone, and you had to call to place the delivery order.

Once the order was placed, you both settled into your spots on the sofa and started the movie. Before long, the food has arrived, and you’re both digging in as the movie plays. "This is the best Chinese I’ve ever had. You definitely saved the day!"

"I don’t know about the whole day; maybe just dinner. Besides, I definitely didn’t save your wallet." You looked at all the takeout boxes on the counter. "I think we ordered enough for a small army."

"Yeah, but it’s so good." He punctuates his sentence with a groan and an eye roll that make your stomach flutter for just a moment; you’re not blind after all.

You’ve always found Pato attractive, even before you started working here, but now that you have the job, you know it's important to keep those feelings at bay. Not only that, but he made it easy to do so when he was constantly icing you out. Reminding yourself of those facts, you redirect your attention to the TV in front of you.

That was the first of many movie nights with Pato. You were at the paddock basically every day, and he claimed he got lonely being alone in his trailer every night, so he kept inviting you back.

For a tik tok, you had Pato and Felix make a list of red flags about each other, in which they both mentioned each other's taste in movies. Of course, the two started to argue about it, and Pato turned to you. "YN thinks my taste in movies is great; we always do movie nights together."

"Mate, I can’t believe you’ve been exposing her to that." He pauses, then says, "Wait, how often do you do movie nights? And why am I never invited?"

"Because your taste in movies sucks."

They move onto the next topic, and you cut that part out of the video, really not wanting too many people to see it, but it does get you wondering why he never invites Felix over instead of or even with you.

Two nights later, at your next movie night, you bring it up. "Patito?"

He groans. "What?"

"Why don’t you ever invite Felix over for movie night?" He looks at you quizzically. "I mean, he’s like your best friend, right? So why don’t you ever have him over instead of me?"

"Felix likes to be doing something. He wants to play a game or go out, which is great and all, but after work sometimes I just like to relax and watch a movie but don’t necessarily want to be alone."

"So you picked me because I’m boring."

He laughs. "Not boring, just easy." You squeal at him and smack him in the chest, but he grabs your arm and pulls you onto him from across the sofa. "Come on, you know I’m just playing."

You’re facing him, and your upper body is in his lap as you look up at him. All of a sudden, you feel way too close to him, and like you’re crossing into dangerous territory. You sit up and pull back into your seat. "Yeah, I know. Let’s start the movie."

"You’re right, I don’t want to be up too late with quals tomorrow."

"It’s May; you always have something tomorrow."

Qualifying for the Indy GP goes really well, and Pato gets pole. The team getting pole was a huge accomplishment, so a bunch of people went out for drinks at a bar 10 minutes from the speedway. You’re out for a few hours, and around 11, everyone decides to disperse, and you begin to call for an Uber to your place, which is 30 minutes away. While standing outside and both of you ordering ubers, you complain to Pato about how late it’ll be when you finally get home.

"Just come stay at mine; you have to be back in Speedway at 6 anyway."

"Are you sure it’s not a problem? I can just Uber back."

"Stop being silly. You’re my friend, you’re never a problem."

You both climb into an Uber and ride the 10 minutes back to the speedway. You have the Uber drop you off at the entrance and walk to the driver lot from there. It’s a gorgeous night, and no one’s out right now.

Pato turns to you, "Let’s go walk the track." You laugh at him, not thinking he was serious. "No, come on, it’ll be fun."

"You’re crazy; we’ll get in trouble."

"Oh, come on, live a little, baby."

The name rolls off his lips, and you’re convinced you may do anything he asks. You’re being pulled by him towards the gasoline alley and pit lane, where you could climb onto the track.

He begins shouting when you get on the track. Calling out just to hear his echo. You pull him to you and put your hand over his mouth. Hush, you’re going to get us caught." You’re laughing as you say it because he’s fighting against your hand.

When you take your hand off his mouth, he looks around the track. "In 3 weeks, every one of these seats will be filled."

"I know, it’s crazy to think about."

"It’s like 300,000 eyes on you, watching every move you make; it’s nerve-wracking but also so thrilling."

He’s still looking out at the bleachers; you’re standing on the bricks in front of the padoga. "We could kiss the bricks?"

He looks down at his feet, dragging his shoe across the bricks. "Nah, I want to save it until I win."

Well, I don’t think you’ll have to wait long."

It’s silent for a moment, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing. "We should probably head back. I have a GP to win before I can win the 500."

You burst out laughing at him. "You’re so cocky."

"Confident." He corrects you with a raised eyebrow. He grabs your wrist, then interlocks your hands. "Let’s go."

On the walk back, you’re leaning into his side with your head on his shoulder and never letting go of his hand. When you arrive back at the motorhome, you’re exhausted. You head into the bathroom to wash your face, and Pato calls out to you, "There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink; I’ll get out some clothes for you."

When you exit the bathroom, there’s a pair of Pato’s merch pajamas sitting on his bed for you. "We can either share the bed or I can pull out the couch, but Elba says the couch is uncomfortable, so it’s up to you."

The thought of being that close to him all night makes your heart skip a beat. "Are you sure you’re okay sharing the bed?"

"We’re adults." He shrugs like it’s obvious. "As long as you’re not a blanket hog, we’ll be just fine."

After you change into pajamas, you get into the side of the bed that doesn’t have his things on the nightstand. As you climb under the layers of blankets, warmth and his smell engulf you. It’s different from how he smells day to day; it’s like what he usually smells like minus the sweat and gasoline. It makes you feel incredibly close to and surrounded by him. Sleep quickly begins to overtake you; you’re vaguely aware of him climbing into bed next to you, but you're fast asleep within 5 minutes.

The next morning, you woke up with a minor headache, and as you woke, you noticed that you were clinging to the man next to you. You’re half lying on top of him and have your arm across his chest and your face on his pec. Despite how comfortable you were, you knew it would be bad if he woke up and found you hanging all over him. You reluctantly and carefully pulled away from him and climbed out of bed. When you climbed out of bed, he rolled over and started searching for something in the bed. Rocky jumped up into the spot you’d just vacated and cuddled up with Pato, which seemed to settle him back into sleep. You quietly got ready for your day at work, stealing an Electrolit to hopefully ward off your headache.

As you searched the fridge for something edible, Pato emerged from the bedroom. His shorts hung low on his hips, and he’s shirtless; even with his bedhead, he looks absolutely delicious. "Goodmorning, sunshine."

He groans and stretches. "Morning, did you sleep good?"

"Yeah, I was exhausted, and that bed is stupidly comfortable.

"We still have an hour until we have to be at work; do you want to get breakfast?"

"I love the way you think."

"Give me five to get ready, and we’ll head out."

You end up taking his McLaren to a small diner. There’s a mural of IMS on one of the walls of the diner and a checkered flag in the window. "I still can’t believe this whole town celebrates like this for a whole month." Pato is looking out the window at the stores, all with flags adorning them.

"This is how I grew up. My dad and I looked forward all year for this month. I could never sleep the night before the 500; I was always too hyped up, like a kid on Christmas. I love this sport."

You quickly finish eating, then head to the track. Today’s the day of the Indianapolis Grand Prix, where Pato will be starting on pole, and you both have work to do before the race starts.

You don’t see him much after you get back to the track; you’re both being pulled in twenty different directions, but you’re able to get a photo of him climbing into the car for the Instagram story and wish him luck then.

The race starts well; he’s able to get through the first lap scrape-free, which cannot be said for all of the field. Around lap 60, he gets hit from behind and spins out; by the time the AMR team gets him going again, he’s in 21st place. The team is ecstatic with the finish of the race, with Rossi winning it, but for Pato, the race went awful. He had really high hopes for the race but ended up in P17.

The team has obligatory celebrations, and you have to capture some content of Rossi for the social media accounts. After all the celebrations are done, you go on a search to find Pato. You find him in his pit box reviewing race footage.

You lightly place your hand on his shoulder, "Hey,"

"Oh, hi."

"Tough race."

He lets out a dry laugh. "Yeah, no kidding."

"Are you ok?"

"Just frustrated."

"We’ve been invited to drink to celebrate Rossi’s win; wanna go?"

"No, I’ll just bring the mood down. You should go, though."

"There are plenty of chances to go drinking with them; do you want to just do a movie night? We can watch a sad movie, so you can’t bring the mood down."

He laughs, which was your intended reaction. "Yeah, you always cheer me up."

You go up on your tippy toes and wrap him in a hug, "You ran a great race today." As you pull away, Kevin Lee is hanging nearby to get a word with Pato. "I’ll see you tonight."

You have lots of work to do, and it’s a job in itself just to be able to grab Alex and take up his time. It’s hours later when you’re finally done for the day and able to escape to Pato’s trailer. He’s already in there and changed into sweats; when he opens the door for you, he looks mopey.

You’ve run to Walmart and bought fresh clothes—a pair of sweats and an oversized t-shirt—that you’ve now changed into.

You’ve been in his trailer so many times now that it’s anything but awkward. You look around at the place; the TV is still off, but there’s an almost empty glass and a bottle of tequila on the counter. Rocky and Norbi are calm in a way they wouldn’t be if he hadn’t taken them out, so at least you know that’s been done. You don’t really know how to comfort him; today was a big loss, and going into the 500, you know it hurts.

"You came to watch a movie, right?”

"I came because you’re my friend, and I know you’re upset. So whatever you want to do,"

He slumps down on the couch in front of you. "I’m so disappointed. I failed myself and the team. I had this race in the bag to win, but I fucked it all up."

You sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You did everything you could to make this a great race. You couldn’t help that you got hit. All you can do now is focus forward on the 500."

He leans back, "I know. You’re right." He pulls you back, and you’re now both reclining on the sofa with heads turned towards each other, only a few inches apart. "You’re my best friend, you know."

You smile at him. "Yeah, you’re mine too."

The two of you are pressed together from your shoulders to your knees. You grab the blanket that’s on the couch next to you and cover both of you with it. You turn on the TV to a show you’ve seen a million times and let the soft noise of it drift the two of you to sleep.

You wake up at 2:00 AM and can barely move from the position you’ve been sleeping in. You gently wake Pato and convince him to move to the bed. When you both climb under the covers, he grabs you and pulls you into him, placing a kiss on the side of your head. He’s clearly barely awake, but you can’t fall asleep.

Your body is buzzing with the feeling of his against yours and his breath on your neck. You feel like a horrible person because he got so vulnerable with you and is clearly just seeking comfort in you after a bad day, and you’re obsessing over it like a schoolgirl. Still, you can’t help the feeling that’s coursing through your body, like you’d be content to stay this way forever.

When you wake up, it’s like nothing has changed between the two of you. Pato feels better and is back to his normal and cheerful self, and your relationship stays what it always was, friends. It’s not that you ever expected anything to change, but for that night, you allowed yourself to hope it would.

A week of lots of work, three movie nights, and one sleepover goes by, and then it’s Saturday and time for qualifying. The team does incredible, all four cars make it into the fast 12. Sunday holds so much anticipation for the team. You’re slammed with making posts to celebrate yesterday’s results along with today’s. Not to mention, every time one of the drivers went out, you stopped everything to watch their run.

After the first run, Pato and Fro advance to the fast 6, and you watch to see who gets bumped. Knowing the drivers has brought a whole new side to this sport for you, you can’t even imagine what it’s like for the drivers who have failed to make it. The Firestone Fast 6 has Marcus Ericsson on pole, with Pato starting 3rd and Felix 5th. You know this is an incredible place to be for the race; to have a spot in the front row is a huge deal, but Ericsson on pole has everyone worried he’ll pull away with a second win.

You have a week that consists of two practices and studying every move Ericsson makes to find his weak spots and figure out how Pato can play off them. You’re posting on social media five times a day to lead up to the race. The Legends Day parade made for incredible content, and you’re left in awe at the people covering the streets just for a chance to be waved at by a driver.

Pato convinced you to spend the night with him after the parade; you couldn’t say no when he pulled out the puppy dog eyes and pouted at you to stay, especially when you never wanted to say no in the first place. It really was easier to stay in Speedway for the night, considering the traffic in the morning will be horrendous, and you sleep the best you ever have when you’re lying next to him.

The 500 lived up to everything it should. It was 200 laps of pure excitement. At no point in the race were you sure of who was going to win, and it left you unable to breathe for most of it. You had spent the day taking photos and videos so you could do an "Admin’s photo dump," and if you took some photos of Pato making ridiculous faces at you that you planned to just keep to yourself, no one had to know.

At lap 190, Ericsson is in the lead, with Colton Herta second and Pato third. You know that Pato will have to pull off a huge move to take the lead; he’s racing against two of the greatest in the field. As they go around turn 3, Herta goes on the outside of Ericsson, trying to make a pass for the lead, but he finds the marbles and wrecks both of them. Pato got by, but others behind him were not so lucky. The four car wreck gets red flagged immediately. The good news is, Pato’s restarting in 1st; the bad news is there are nine laps left, and Palou is right behind him. As the race starts up again, you can barely breathe. After a warmup lap, the race goes green, Palou takes a hard dive to the inside and passes Pato. He has the lead for three laps, and you’re already upset for Pato; you know how badly he wants this. As you’re thinking that, Pato passes him from the outside, and begins to run away with the lead. He leads the last five laps of the race and crosses the start-finish line as the winner of the 110th Indianapolis 500.

You’re so thrilled for him that you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can hear him on the team radio celebrating and thanking God in Spanish. He does his victory lap, and then brings the car back into pit lane. You’re at his car before it’s even stopped, taking his steering wheel from him, and when he gets out of the car, he wraps you in a hug. He’s holding you around the waist and lifting you up, spinning you. "You just won the fucking Indy 500. I’m so proud of you."

"I couldn’t have done it without you."

He’s all too quickly being pulled away from you and being congratulated by the rest of the team. You stand in awe as you watch one of the most important people in the world to you live out their dreams. You watch every part of the celebration with so much pride. You can’t think of anyone more deserving of the ring, the wreath, or dumping a bottle of milk on himself.

When he kisses the bricks, you’re right there next to him, kissing them too. "I guess it’s good we waited for the real deal to do this."

"This was definitely better than doing it just because we could." He has the biggest smile on his face, from ear to ear and reaching his eyes, and all you can think is how you’d give anything to always have him this happy.

It's been hours of celebrating him, and you’re soaking up every moment. When all of your business at the Speedway is over, you both head back to his motorhome to get ready to go out and celebrate. When you get there, he pulls down the fanciest-looking bottle of tequila you’ve ever seen.

"Take a shot with me?"

You scrunch your nose. "I hate doing shots."

"You can’t say no to me, I’m an Indy 500 winner.”

You sigh and give in. "That card works for today and today only." He has poured out two shot glasses, and handed one to you. "Here’s to you, being the best friend a girl could ask for, and the best damn driver this track has even seen." You clink your glass with his and take the shot, choking it down. "Holy shit, that needs a chase-"

You’re cut off by lips on yours. At first, you’re shocked and don’t react. Once you do, you have one hand on his cheek and the other around his neck, and you lean into the kiss like it’s oxygen. It’s easily the best kiss you’ve ever had, you’re thinking everything and nothing at once, and the pieces of the world feel as if they’ve fallen together. His hands around your waist pulling you to him, the way his mouth presses into yours, the taste of tequila on his lips, and the faint smell of sweat, it’s all too much and yet not enough.

You’re unsure how much time has passed when he pulls away, but you’re panting to catch your breath. "Yeah, that’ll work."

"I promise we’ll talk about this later, I just had to do that, and I really need to shower.”

You’re left a little stunned as he disappears into the bathroom. It has you wondering what this means for the two of you, what if it was just a caught-in-the moment thing and he didn’t really mean it?

He is ready to go within 20 minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of ripped jeans and a corset top, and he’s wearing white dress pants, with a white t-shirt and a gold chain around his neck. You’ve put on a light layer of makeup, and pulled your hair into a bun in an attempt to hide the fact that you’ve been in the sun all day. When he sees you, he says, "You look beautiful."

"Not too bad yourself."

Once you arrive at a bar in Indianapolis, Pato walks around and opens your door for you. He always opens the door for you because you have no clue how to open the doors to his McLaren on your own. When you step out, he places his hand on your lower back. "Is this ok?" You nod at him, and walk into the bar together.

The bar is already filled with people, Pato’s family, friends, other drivers, their partners, and parts of the team out to celebrate Pato’s win. Not everyone in the paddock is best friends, but they all get along, and Pato is so personable that he’s friends with almost everyone, so most drivers are happy for his win. Even Colton and Alex, who are surely having a rough night, came out to congratulate him.

You’re able to watch Pato all night, and he’s a different person than when it’s just the two of you. He’s an entertainer at heart, always putting on a show in front of a crowd, but when it’s just the two of you, it’s like he’s able to relax and just be his authentic self. You've been seated with Kelly and Emille for most of the night, not drinking because you told Pato you’d drive so he could party properly. Even while celebrating with everyone, he still checks in with you periodically throughout the night.

Kelly and Emille must notice the hand he places on your thigh or his lips brushing against your ear because they ask you if the two of you have "finally realized you’re soulmates". You shrug them off, figuring they’d just been drinking too much, but then they confess that one of the reasons they invited you to drink so much is because Felix and Rossi were convinced that you two would be perfect for each other. They quickly move onto a new topic, but you begin to wonder what dating Pato would be like. You figure it’d be a lot like your relationship now, but you’d get to have all of him, and not have to hide your feelings for him. The thought of getting to know him more intimately sends a chill down your spine.

As things start to wind down, Pato comes to where you’re sitting, and wraps his arm across your shoulders. The group has moved around your table, and he’s starting to say his goodbyes. Once you’re out to the car, he hands you his keys. "Please don’t wreck my baby."

"Oh come on, you’ve gotta have more faith in me than that."

"You’re the only person besides my papa I’ve ever let drive this car. That’s enough faith."

You turn on the radio, and the car ride back to Speedway is filled with Pato’s singing. When you arrive back in his motorhome, he’s begging you to spend the night again. You, of course, stay with him.

Climbing in bed, he reaches his hand out to the space in between the two of you. "Too much space. Come closer." You’re on your sides facing each other, and as you scoot in, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you towards him. "Much better."

You fall asleep like that, but when you wake up, he’s not in the bed. It has you panicking, wondering if it was a mistake to kiss him, and even more, imagining a relationship with him. You’re in one of his sweatshirts when you climb out of bed and head to the living area. You find it empty, of both Pato and the dogs. You’re pretty worried now, not knowing where he could’ve gone or why he disappeared so early.

Before your mind is able to wander too much further, the door to his motorhome opens, and the dogs come barging in. Pato has his hands full, but when he sets the stuff down on the counter and finally looks at you, he’s upset. "Oh no! You were supposed to still be in bed. Shoot!"

"Where did you go?" You’re very confused about his whereabouts and his aversion to you being awake.

"I went to get us breakfast, I wanted to surprise you when you woke up. I got all your favorites."

You can’t help the smile breaking out on your face. "You got me breakfast?"

"Of course I did. I know I said we’d talk about the kissing later, but I still feel bad for making you wait," a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I wanted to show you how much you mean to me."

You’re wrapping him in a hug before you know it. "I thought you freaked on me and bailed."

He pulls back from you and lightly takes your face in both hands. "I’m not bailing or freaking. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, and I can’t stop thinking about you, haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can feel myself falling for you more each day."

You can see the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into yours. "Pato,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me again."

A huge grin breaks out on his face as he pulls yours to him. The kiss starts softly, with one of his hands cradling the back of your head while the other stays rested on your face. As it goes on, you continue to push him, your tongue swiping across his lips, seeking entrance. His hand tangles in your hair, and the other moves down to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He has full control of the kiss, and you, at this point. Your hands are in his hair and on his chest, letting him lead you through minutes of a make out session like you’re in high school.

He pulls away, but you continue to chase his lips. He almost gives in, but he grabs your face and stops you from continuing. "Wait," He’s panting, and you’re pretty sure it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. "I have something important I need to ask you."

You look at him expectantly and hope he can’t tell how fast your heart is beating. "Will you come to the victory banquet with me tonight? I want to celebrate with you."

You consider it, you know it’s a black tie event, and you know it’s broadcasted; you really don’t want anyone wondering or theorizing about who you are. "I don’t have anything to wear."

"I’ll buy you something."

"I do not need you to buy me clothes."

"Now you’re just being difficult. Come with me, por favor, and let me buy you a dress."

You caved to his begging, like always, and he took you to a high-end boutique to find a dress. As you looked through the store, he grabbed a few dresses to add to the ones you were trying on. He followed you to the dressing rooms, and you modeled each dress for him.

"Pato, I can’t believe you picked this out."

"What’s wrong with it?" His voice is whiny, and you can tell through the door that he’s offended.

You look at yourself one more time in the mirror before stepping out to show him. It’s a rouched pink satin dress that’s all too short, and shows an insane amount of cleavage. Pato leaned back on the seat, looking as smug as ever. "You’ve never looked better."

You give him a death stare, "This is so not appropriate, and so not funny." You’re getting stressed about all of this, it’s a lot to go to this event with him and be seen by all of your coworkers, but even more so by any fans.

He must notice how overwhelmed you’re getting because he reaches out and grabs your hand. "Woah, baby, what’s wrong?" You explain to him everything that’s on your mind. "Hey, it’ll be alright, I promise you. What do you need to feel better about this? I’ll give you anything."

"I just want to find something to wear."

"Ok, we’ll find something, I’ll take you to every store in the state if I have to. You’ve still got a few more in there, yeah?" You nod and disappear behind the curtain to try the last couple on.

Finally, you put on a dress that felt perfect. It’s a floor-length black gown with a slit on the left leg and a deep v-neck. "I really like this one, but tell me what you think, and be honest."

You walk out and stand in front of Pato, giving him a slow twirl. "Wow."

"Do you like it?"

"Wow." You slap his arm lightly. "Estás deliciosa." (You are delicious)

You wrap your arms around his shoulder and sit perched on his legs. "Y estás muy rico." (And you are very hot)

"I think this is the one, but I won’t be able to keep my hands off you all night."

You change back into your clothes, and head to buy that dress. Your jaw drops when you realize the dress is $450, but before you’re able to protest, Pato has already paid for it. "You did not have to do that, I could’ve found a different dress."

"I liked that one."

"I don’t even know how I ended up trying it on, I didn’t grab anything that expensive."

"I grabbed it, you deserve nice things." He kisses your cheek. "Now stop and let me spoil you."

You feel a heat rise on your cheeks, You’re not used to being treated like you deserve everything, but something tells you Pato’s not going to stop doing so.

You spend hours getting ready, but finally you’re at the victory banquet together. He pays for a ride there, so you could both drink and not worry about it. You walk the red carpet together, and he has his hand around your waist or on the small of your back the whole time.

Everything feels so natural with Pato, from the way he gets you a drink without having to ask what you’d like to his hand resting just above your knee. As a host drones on, you lean into him and whisper, "Pato?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this a date?"

He turns to you a little quizzically, and almost looks offended. "What? No."

You try to hide your disappointment. "Oh, ok, I just thought..."

"When I take you on a date, you will have no doubt it’s a date. There’ll be flowers and dinner, and I will pick you up, and if you’re lucky, I’ll kiss you at the end of the night."

June

And a few days later, he keeps his promise. He picks you up from your hotel with the largest bouquet you’ve ever seen. He then brings you to a restaurant in downtown Detroit, it’s easily the nicest place you’ve ever been. He pays for the meal, which was easily $500, and then drives you home. Things with Pato were easy, the date was the best you’d ever been on, and you both spent dinner laughing, and constantly brushing against each other in some way. When you got to your hotel door, he kissed you as promised. Everything with him is still so new, which makes you want him desperately. His hand wrapped in your hair, which pulls slightly as his tongue slips into your mouth, sends a chill down your spine. You lose track of time, and your thoughts are flooded with nothing but him. You pull away from him, but he immediately moves his lips to your neck.

You can feel your chest heaving, "We should stop." even though you really don’t want to.

"This is more fun." You can feel the vibrations of his words against your neck.

"If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I will." Despite how much you want that, you’re still hesitant about jumping into things too quickly with him.

He detaches himself from your neck, and when he pulls back, you can see that his pupils are blown, and his hair is mussed from your hands running through it. "Have I told you how insanely gorgeous you look tonight?"

"Only about 30 times." You stand there smiling at each other for a moment, stuck in your own bubble. "It’s getting late."

"I know. I should go."

"Yeah, you probably should." Except you can’t help yourself from kissing him one last time. This time it’s soft and sweet.

"Now I’ve really got to go before we get started again." He walks towards the elevator, but turns just before heading into it. "You’re driving me crazy, invading all of my thoughts, I can barely function!" You know he’s joking, but you also feel the same way.

"Goodnight, Patito!" You call after him, and he returns with "Sweet dreams."

You spent the next few weeks settling into each other. You haven’t told anyone about being together, and have been enjoying your time in secret. You’ve just decided that there’s no rush to tell anyone, and it’s a little fun sneaking around.

It’s three days before Road America when you and Pato are softly chatting while waiting for Fro and Alex to arrive so you can film some content. You mindlessly have your hands locked together, and he’s rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. You don’t notice the guys arrive, and they sneak up on you.

"Hey, guys, what’s up?" You jump when you hear Felix’s voice and pull your hand back.

Pato tries to play it off by greeting him back, but Felix just bursts into laughter. You and Pato both laugh along with him but are confused. "What’s so funny?"

"Are you seriously trying to hide that you’re together right now?" Felix can hardly get the words out.

You and Pato both share a look before trying to play it off. "What? We’re not together, we’re just friends."

Now Alex, who tends to just watch, joins in, "We’ve known since the 500."

You roll your eyes at him. "Ok, we haven’t even known since the 500."

"Tell that to lover boy because he didn’t take his eyes off of you all night, and we saw the way he was touching you."

Pato’s cheeks are now bright red, "Ok, I wasn’t that bad."

"Like a love sick puppy." Pato hides his face in his hands.

At this point, you’re just laughing, leave it to Rossi to be brutally honest. You pull his hands away, "Aww, baby, don’t be shy; I think it’s cute."

July

Mid-Ohio once again falls on the Fourth of July weekend. Pato did great in the race, working from 10th place qualifying to a 2nd place finish. The two of you booked a hotel room together for the weekend because you end up in the same hotel most of the time anyway.

After the race, Pato took you out to celebrate. You found a place that was putting on a fireworks show and was lined with food trucks. You both got the greasiest food imaginable, and bought an elephant ear. You found a place in the grass and got comfortable on a large blanket. You laid against him as you waited for the fireworks to start and ate your food.

You’re talking about everything and nothing when Pato grabs your hand and then kisses you softly. "What was that for?"

"I think I’m falling in love with you."

At first, you’re a little shocked to hear it, but you can’t say you don’t feel the same. Everything with Pato has been so fast, but it’s also been so incredibly easy and natural. "I think I’m falling in love with you, too."

You feel like a teenager, making out in front of all these people, but it’s dark enough that you hope no one can see you. It’s the most loved you’ve ever felt, you can tell he’s pouring everything he feels into the kiss. You’re lying down on the ground, cuddled together, as you watch the fireworks go off above you.

When you get back to the hotel room, you’re not tired in the slightest. You’re pulling him into you and kissing him as he tries to unlock the door. When he finally gets the door open, he pulls you inside the room, pins you against the back side of it, and automatically asks for entry into your mouth with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long until he’s backing you up onto the bed and you’re falling back on it.

He continues chasing your lips, only breaking away to pull off his shirt. He grabs the hem of your shirt, but before lifting off, he stops to make sure you really want to do this. When you nod your head, he pulls it over your head. Your chest is heaving as he reaches behind you to undo your bra.

You can feel him pressing up against you, and you reach down to grab him as he attaches his mouth to your breasts. It has him pressing into your hand and letting out a moan that has you shivering.

Before you know it, you’re lying together in the middle of the bed, and you’re begging him to slide into you. When he finally does, you see stars. He’s babbling in Spanish, you can’t pick it all up, but you understand that he’s telling you how beautiful you are and that he loves you. You’ve never felt so fully connected to or in love with a person.

Your foreheads are pressed together, and your lips are brushing every time he moves. His right hand is holding yours, and his left is tweaking your nipple.

"Eres la persona más sexy que he conocido." (You’re the sexiest person I’ve ever met.)

His Spanish has you shivering under him as he continuously pumps into you. You feel yourself growing closer as he begins to speed up, and you move your hand down to your clit to move yourself along. He slaps your hand away and replaces it with his own. "Quiero explorar cada centímetro de tu cuerpo." (I want to explore every inch of your body)

You can tell he’s close by his faltering rhythm, but so are you. As he moves his lips to your ear and tells you to let go, you go flying over the edge. You’re seeing white, and he follows quickly after; it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

You’re both naked with a layer of sweat covering your bodies, and you’re curled into his side. You’re tracing random designs across his chest as you both try to catch your breath, and he is placing kisses on your forehead.

"I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy." You’re whispering into the dim room, hoping he knows how special he is to you.

"Me either. Estoy enloquecido por ti." (I am crazy for you)

Things with Pato keep getting better. He took you to Mexico with him during the break between Ohio and Toronto, and you met a lot of his family. You automatically got along with everyone, and loved how close knit everyone was. You only fell deeper for him around his family. He introduced you to everyone as his girlfriend, and told everyone how much he loved you. You’re having dinner at one of his Tio’s farms, and you watch him as he runs around with all of his younger cousins, and you decide that if he asked you tomorrow, you’d run off to Mexico and spend the rest of your life with him.

August

Nashville came, and the two of you spent the weekend partying like it was your 21st birthday. When you came to a bar with a mechanical bull in it, Pato was convinced he could ride it. You took a picture of him, cowboy hat on and arm in the air, and put it on your Instagram story with the caption "save a horse, ride a cowboy". This was the first time you’ve posted anything about him, but you figured it wouldn’t be a big deal because you have a small following made up mostly of friends and family.

The following morning, Pato posted a photo dump of the weekend, and included a picture of you kissing his helmet before he climbed into his car. You can’t tell that it’s you, from your hair or the angle Elba took the photo from, but that doesn’t stop people from noticing. Immediately, fans flood the comments with questions about your identity. Your papaya polo is the only thing that gives people any clue as to who you are. No one really ends up finding out it’s you, but a few people see your story and like it.

You’re back in Indianapolis the next week, and Pato is staying at your apartment. He insists that he meet your family, claiming it’s unfair that he hasn’t met them when you’ve met all of his. You took him to your childhood home for dinner. Your dad grilled steaks, and your mom made corn on the cob and baked potatoes. Your parents knew about you and Pato, and they’d known who he was since he started racing. You were nervous as you pulled into your driveway. Pato grew up with money, you know that most drivers do, and he grew up in a huge house in San Antonio. You don’t know exactly what he makes now, but you know that it’s a lot, most likely pushing $1 million a year. Your yearly salary is a weekend getaway for him. He’s never shown that he cared at all; he gladly stays with you in your apartment with creaky floors and poor water pressure, but you still worry about what he will think of the home.

Your worries dissipate as soon as you walk in the door, and he’s nothing but his perfect self. He shakes hands with your father and hugs your mother, you can tell that they love him already. You eat dinner together in your backyard, and he immediately starts talking racing with your dad. Your dog stares at him as he eats, begging for a bite, and you chuckle when he caves and tries to secretly feed him a bite.

You know that the season only has a month left in it, and the thought of living in two different states looms like a bit of a dark cloud, but moments like this make you know you’ll be okay.

September

The season is closing, and you’re busier than you’ve thought possible. The top 3 for the championship are Palou, Pato, and Felix, so you’ve been insanely busy promoting the last 2 weeks of the season, and planning posts for the result of the championship.

There’s a lot of tension on the team because of how close Pato and Felix are, and either of them could win the championship. There’s also the chance that neither of them would win it, which would stink after such a strong year for the team. You worry about Pato and his relationship with Felix, and you don’t want the fight for the championship to hurt that at all. You can also tell that the stress is getting to Pato, he’s at work constantly, and even when you’re home, he’s studying his previous races or working out ridiculous amounts. You try to be there for him, but it’s hard when there’s no way you can ensure he wins the next two races.

And Portland doesn’t go the way he wanted. He has a 3rd-place finish, which slots him down a spot in the race for the championship and makes it so he needs to have an absolutely perfect run for Monterey.

You’re exiting the bathroom in your hotel room when you notice he’s sitting on the bed, staring off into space. "Pato, are you ok, honey?"

He takes a minute before responding. "There are five days left of the season."

"I know that."

"I live in San Antonio; you live in Indianapolis."

"Oh." You’ve both been avoiding this subject for as long as possible, but you’re running out of time, and it needs to be addressed. You sit down gently on the bed next to him.

"I love you, you know that, but I don’t know if I can handle being away from you that often."

"I know, I’ve gotten so used to being with you that it’s hard to be apart." You know that some couples crave distance, and would not be able to handle working together as well as basically living together, but you always want to be within 30 feet of Pato.

"Maybe I’ll move up here, it’s where the team is based, so it makes sense. I just already don’t see my family enough, especially the ones in Mexico."

Pato does so much for you, and works so hard that you know what the answer is. "I’ll move to San Antonio." You’ll be with him, but you have to be in Indiana frequently anyway for work, so you’d still see your family a lot.

"That’s not fair to you, to pick up your whole life."

"It’s what I want to do. I don’t want to be anywhere that you aren’t, and I’ll see my family whenever we have to work."

He pulls you into a hug that’s a little bone crushing. "I love you, mas que vida." (more than life)

"Te amo también." (I love you too) Your eyes are a little watery, and having moments like this with Pato remind you how endlessly lucky you are.

Pato seems to be in overdrive, his car is lightning fast, and he comes out on top of both practices.

You’re sitting in the driver's room with Pato while he gets ready for qualifying, he’d arrived insanely early, so he had time to decompress before going out. You’re cuddled together on the couch, with his fire suit hanging off his hips, and you’re talking about something other than racing for what feels like the first time in months. Rossi enters and finds the two of you there, "You know this is for drivers only?" You know he’s just giving you a hard time.

"I had to be here, I’m doing very important business." You smile up at him as he begins to grab all of his racing gear.

"I can tell."

As Rossi gets ready, he joins in on your and Pato’s conversation, but not much because the two of you talk so much that it barely gives him a chance. Then Felix shows up, late as always. He grabs his helmet and then hands it to you.

"What am I going with this?"

Oh, you don’t need it? I thought you were a driver now."

"You are sooo funny." You grab a pillow off the couch and throw it at him.

You sit with Pato until you have to go to the pits to do work. During qualifying, he puts up an insane lap that puts him in P1 by over a second. Pato gets the pole for the race tomorrow.

You’re both buzzing when you walk into your hotel room, and he’s immediately all over you. You’re setting your stuff down by the door, and he’s crowding up behind you. His hands are on your hips, and he’s grinding into you as he attaches his lips to your neck. "You’re my good luck charm. I’m gonna take you to bed and show you how thankful I am."

Heat is riding up your neck, and you’re leaning back into his touch. He takes you to the bed and tosses you on top of it. He takes his shirt off, but then turns all his attention towards you. He was kissing a trail down your body as he undressed you. Worshipping every new piece of revealed skin. He had you in just underwear panting and begging for him to do something more. He’s teasing you over the lace of your panties, and you know it’s absolutely soaked.

He finally takes them off and slips one finger in. You’re so desperate that it has you crying out, and he quickly adds another. "Is this why they call you fast hands?" You can barely get the sentence out, but it has him laughing. His hands are good, but they’re nothing compared to his mouth. He’s still pumping into you with his fingers, but he brings his tongue to your clit. He circles it with his tongue a few times, but then sucks on it lightly, which has you crying out.

Your hands are in his hair, pulling so hard that you know it has to hurt, but it seems to only spur him on. He lays his tongue flat against you, and you buck against him as he repeatedly hits your spot. It has you tumbling toward the edge, but you pull him away before you’re able to.

He looks a little confused, but you quickly dissolve his fears. "Want to come with you in me." He immediately crawls up your body, and pulls down his sweats, which now have a wet spot on them, just enough to free his cock. He gives himself a few pumps before he's filling you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he starts pounding into you, his thumb pressing circles around your clit.

"Come on, pretty girl, come for me." His words send you over, and you’re coming with a loud moan. He follows you shortly after, biting into your shoulder to muffle the groan he lets out.

He collapses next to you as you catch your breath. Your chests are both heaving when he says, "Round two?"

It has you laughing out loud because, of course, he wants to go again. "I'm afraid I won’t be your good luck charm if you fall asleep behind the wheel because you were up fucking me all night."

"Doesn’t matter. It’ll be worth it."

You do end up sleeping, which is a good thing because you both have incredibly busy days. You've been incredibly nervous all day, buzzing with anticipation of whether Pato will become the champion. You don’t get a lot of time, but you do see him for a few minutes before he has to get in the car.

"Kiss for good luck?" You place an exaggerated kiss on his lips. "What about a quickie?"

"Patricio O’ward!" Your jaw is open, and you’re looking around to see if anyone heard him. "Get in your car."

He hugs you before he has to go, but you whisper to him as he does. "Be safe. And I’ll give you whatever you want if you win." When he pulls back, he’s smiling from ear to ear, and he jogs off to his car.

You were on the edge of your seat for all 95 laps. Each lap was more nerve wracking than the last, and you felt like you could only breathe when a yellow was thrown. To make matters worse, there wasn’t a dull moment in the race. There were six yellows and a red flag thrown in the race, and one of the yellows screwed Pato, letting most of the field pit on yellow when he’d just pitted on green. You felt crazy, with his radio in your ear, tracking his stats for every lap, and counting how long each pit stop took. The whole team was on edge, but you were even more so.

After what felt like 10 hours, the race ended with Pato in the lead. You realized immediately everything this meant for him. This is the year he became an Indy 500 winner and an IndyCar champion.

He pulls into pit lane, and there’s cameras all over as the team runs out to meet him. He’s standing on top of his car, screaming out and celebrating, but then he spots you. He points to you and runs over to you as he takes off his helmet. He’s kissing you before you can really process anything. You grab his face and look into his eyes to speak to him. "I can’t believe it, I’m so proud of you." Your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile is.

"Never could’ve done it without you."

Your kiss was put on national television, and fans quickly put together that you’re the girl from Nashville and the victory banquet, but you don’t care. You are so insanely in love with Pato, and you want the world to know it.

[liminalpebble]

If you’re up for something fluffy and/or lighthearted fun - like a month ago I gave another writer I’m following this idea but she‘s been gone since then and I would still love it 🥺

I was in the mood for a Lokitty Fic because it’s been a while and for whatever reason I’min the mood:D If it’s gonna be more fluffy, funny or even angsty is up to you 🫶

Basic idea was Loki disguised as a cat 🐈‍⬛ has been hiding from something/someone in our home. Without him realizing until he’s already in too deep, he starts to fall for us and the way we care for him. Not part of his plan. He hadn’t intended to reveal his identity and surely couldn’t do it now after basically misleading us the whole time.

But what’s been escaping him since as well - we absolutely know. 🤭

A/N: Hey friend! Thanks for this very sweet and fluffy prompt. I accidentally seemed to have made it a multiparter and I have no idea where this is going except definitely to fluff town, and the comfort district. I guess stay tuned? WTF am I even doing??

Much love,

Peb

--

Stray: Part 1

Masterlist link

The rain was tumbling down in heavy sheets as you made your way from the train to your apartment. By now you'd just about memorized how many steps were left from the soaked platform to your door.

The thought depressed you a little, realizing how long you've felt stuck in this life; just another shop girl in the city, a uniform and an apron with a tired person behind it. As the cold water continued to hit you, you were glad to realize the number of steps to the lobby door was finally reaching single digits and picked up your pace in one last jolt of momentum.

Then you heard it; an almost imperceptible mewling under the incessant drumming of the storm. You turned, following the faint noise until you reached the alley and the giant dumpsters housed there. The stench was awful. You held your soaked apron over your nose as you peaked into the crevice. Two of the biggest, most beautiful, aquamarine eyes stared back at you from a void of soaked black fur. It was a cat, and it was absolutely screaming now, realizing it had someone's attention.

It's not like you'd never seen an alley cat before. There were swarms of them around, but there was just something about this one, something so desperately in need of love. The little guy seemed almost confused to be in this position whereas the other strays seemed to resign themselves to their shitty fate.

You braced yourself; tried to talk yourself out of what you knew you were about to do and had never ever done before. It would be incredibly stupid. You weren't even allowed to have pets. You didn't even know if he was sick and you would never have the money to take him to the vet. Regardless, you sighed and scooped the pathetic little creature up, swaddling him in your apron, as you hurried toward the front door. Huffing, you warned him, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

-----

Loki was glad to finally be out of the rain and stench, even if it was in a less than ideal form. Several hours earlier he had landed with a crash, cushioned by the heaps of debris. He scoffed realizing his neat black suit and tie and the crisp white shirt were now utterly ruined. His sunglasses were nowhere to be found. The money; all that money that came with him as he dove out of the plane was now safely magicked away, at least.

He groaned pitifully. A fall like that coupled with a mid-air tussle with Thor was enough to floor the younger god, though he hated to admit it. And who was Thor to come after him anyway? This whole D.B. Cooper heist was his fault...all because of that idiotic bet. Loki probably would have laid there feeling very sorry for himself a good deal longer, but he heard the lonely patter of someone running toward him through the downpour. He had to admit he needed help, and it was time for some quick scheming to get it. Good thing this was always his forte.

He had barely accustomed himself to his new feline form and begun mewling loudly when he heard your footfalls slow and watched your shadow move down the alley.

Come on. He thought, imbuing it with the hint of an enchantment. Come find me, mortal.

Loki was incredibly pleased with himself and, frankly, a bit surprised that his ploy worked so easily. Such dull creatures, mortals...such soft hearts., he mused as he dozed in your arms. He was already barely conscious when he heard you quip, “Okay buddy, but I swear to god, you better not have rabies.”

Hey! Rude, he thought, attempting to give a menacing, insulted glare, but it only came out as a grimacing twitch of his whiskers and whining, grumpy, growl.

The human smiled a reluctant little grin and tussled his fur saying, “It's a good thing you're adorable.”

I'm not adorable! I am a god, you dull creature! , he screamed in his mind, but it only left his mouth as another pathetically cute whine.

---

In your bathroom you clipped your wet hair up one-handed and kept the little creature bundled against your chest. Once your hand was free you tested temperature of the bath with a wiggle of your fingers.

Satisfied, you said, “Alright friend,” holding the cat under his armpits and meeting his eyes, as if you could appeal to his sense of logic. “You stink. I have to give you a bath. You can either except your fate with dignity or you can be a little shit and claw my eyes out. I beg you to accept your fate.”

He thought to himself, Why wouldn't I want a bath? I love baths, you idiot. Now clean me, mortal. I tire of....

“Mrewwoooow!” he screamed as soon as his paw hit the warm water. He surprised you and himself as you both flinched violently. Apparently Loki was unable to resist his new feline aversion to water. Okay...okay...this is new. He mused.

“Okay....Christ! Listen here, you little shit! You can either deal with this while I scrub you down with some Herbal Essences, or you can smell like dumpster juice.”

“Meow”

“Yeah. I know...I know it's not the right thing for cats. I know I should take you to the vet first. I know this is not fucking ideal. I'm...I'm doing my best,” you said, with an unexpected hitch in your throat and slightly-welling eyes, as suddenly you both realized you weren't just talking about the bath anymore.

Loki felt an emotion he couldn't quite categorize; one he seldom felt, one others might call sympathy. So he fought his instinct with all his might and remained quiet and while you carefully washed and rinsed his fur. You smiled as your careful hands cleaned every last patch. “Thank you,” you said softly.

My pleasure, he thought, and meant it. It actually did feel very nice to be clean, and if felt even better when you dried him, and wrapped him in a warm towel in front of the space heater, with one bowl of water, and one of tuna. By the time you had showered and settled next to him on the floor in your pajamas, he already had a full belly and was drifting off again in the pleasant warmth. You sipped your tea and stroked his now very glossy and soft black fur.

“See! You're such a handsome boy now that you don't look and smell like wet trash bag. That wasn't so bad, was it?”

From where his head rested on his delicately crossed paws he lazily opened one stunning eye to glare at you menacingly, but it only made you chuckle.

As you laughed and smiled down at him, stroking his fur, he felt something else he couldn't quite name; gratitude, certainly, but also something else...something like wanting desperately to see you smile as much as possible...something like hoping that sorrow he saw a glimpse of before wouldn't eat you alive...something like just wanting you to be okay regardless of the benefit to himself.

The next time he half-awoke in the night, you were gone and the lights were out, though you had left the space-heater on for him. With his now-amplified hearing, he listened for you, anxious to know you were still there. Only once he heard the gentle undulation of your sleeping breath could he relax into dreams again and wonder what tomorrow would bring.

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