#both of them are so excited to tell the other of their victory

[peachyrainn]

mirrored

love in the air episodes 4 & 6

[missmeinyourbones]

AURORA BOREALIS GREEN

cw: non sorcerer au, college au, enemies to lovers (?) neighbors to lovers, miscommunication trope if you squint (I AM SORRY), reader e to as she/her once, reader wears heels, some light sexual content (dry humping nation rise)

wc: 10k+

There's something wrong with your upstairs neighbors. 

You've never met them, not face to face at least, but between the times you've hit your ceiling with the end of your broom and the audacity they have to continue to be as rowdy as they are, something isn't right with them. You're sure of it. 

And you're not naive to the fact that your apartment building is filled with young people, either currently in college or just freshly graduated. You're no prude to the dulled sound of late-night party playlists or squeaky bed frames muffled by plaster. 

But your neighbors aren't guilty of these typical noise complaints. No, they're borderline much worse.

The majority of their crimes take place in the day, believe it or not, which makes it all the more frustrating when you actually have shit to do. When it's not boyish yells of victory and frustration, it's footsteps that sound like a herd of elephants (how many people can live in an apartment floor plan for two?). They're relentless upstairs neighbors to have, and though you couldn't pick their faces out of a crowd if you tried, you're sure their lack of etiquette spans across other areas of their lives. 

The tiny clock at the top of your computer blinks a mocking 11:38 AM as you try to study through the sounds of excited stomping and rowdy gibberish. 

You don't know what makes today so different, whether it's the burnt coffee beans you can taste lingering in your usual order from the cafe across the street or the organic chemistry study guide practically laughing at you as you review your hieroglyphic notes for tomorrow's test.

Whatever is in the water has you feeling braver than usual, and instead of reaching for the conveniently placed broom in the corner of your kitchen, you find yourself stomping your way down the hall and up the staircase.

The sixth floor is identical to the fifth — you don't know why it wouldn't be, but you've never put much thought into it — so it's no surprise that your feet find no trouble in naturally bringing you to a door equivalent to yours just a floor below. 

Your knuckles wrap against the wood with three unfriendly knocks, and the joyous buzzing from inside the apartment instantly comes to a lull. You think you hear panicked whispers from the other side, almost as if the culprits are debating on answering or not. You take their choice away when you knock three more times. 

After a moment, you hear the clicking of the lock and the fiddling of the doorknob. You take a deep breath to ground yourself, put on your best customer service voice, and prepare to calmly tell these entitled frat boys to shut the fuck up when—

You're ironically met with the prettiest green eyes you think you've ever seen.

A tall brunette stands before you, about your age, and wearing a look that's both confused and embarrassed. Your eyes quickly flicker across his face in the span of mere seconds, logical thoughts going out the window and now replaced with amazement at how stupidly attractive he is. 

Though you knocked on his door, he speaks first.

"Hi...?" He clears his throat, looking behind you in the hallway, almost as if you have the wrong room. 

His confusion annoys you, and you suddenly remember why you're here in the first place. 

"Look, I really don't wanna be a bitch," you sigh, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "but what could you possibly be doing in this apartment that sounds like an actual full-out brawl on a Wednesday morning?"

Obliviously handsome neighbor's face goes a bit pink and his jaw slacks as he stutters, looking for either a shitty excuse or a polite explanation of the truth.

He opens the door a bit more, gesturing to the living room behind him. You spare a glance to where another guilty suspect stares back at you with big brown eyes and a smirk. There's some video game paused on the screen, ridden with animated blood and a scoped weapon's perspective.

Your attention is brought back to the one holding the door when he mumbles, "I think it's our game."

A bit dumbfounded at his lame answer, you blankly stare at him.

"Your... game?"

Brown Eyes yells from the couch, "Call of Duty!"

As if on instinct, Green Eyes closes the door a bit, shielding you from his roommate and shaking his head in exasperation. He clears his throat awkwardly, "Sorry, are you—?"

You're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you've been staring at how long his fucking eyelashes are. He's anything but sore on the eyes, but again, you try to remind yourself that he and his roommate make your life difficult at least five out of seven days of the week.

"I live below you," you huff behind a swallow, "and you really don't make it easy." 

He nods dumbly, finally realizing the connection behind your visit. "Oh, right."

You scoff and nod your head. For someone as pretty as him, he's a bit thick in the head. 

Biting your cheek, you begin to walk away from the door without completely ending the conversation. As you're turning to leave, he hears you call out from down the corridor. 

"If you could just — not play video games like eleven-year-old boys," your tone is filled with annoyance, "that'd be great." 

You don't need to turn around to know that the stranger at the door is apologetic and nodding in compliance. Before he can fully shut the door, you hear a quip from his counterpart on the couch.

"She told you, bro."

As the door shuts, you hear the muffled hiss from the other. "You're the one making noise, dipshi—"

…..

Your threatening conversation must have worked to some degree, because it's been almost two days without any sort of annoyance from your upstairs neighbors. You think you almost take it for granted, the way you can study without headphones and enjoy a movie in the living room rather than in your bed with the speaker on high.

The walk back from your class is usually about twenty minutes, but it's closer to fifteen today as you're quicker when it comes to getting out of the cold.

Your chemistry test went alright — maybe not your best work but okay enough that you passed. And that's all you care about as you make your way back to your apartment, intending to crash in your bed and not move for the next few hours.

The winter air leaves a chill up your spine as you swipe into your building and press the elevator button. Your nose runs a bit from the cold as it sits against your knit scarf. Bag on your arm and half-consumed coffee, you can't wait to enjoy a day or two without thinking about covalent bonds and isomers.

You close your eyes and release a sigh as the elevator door begins to close, but before it gets the chance to do so successfully, quick footsteps and a hand jammed between the closing space prompt the doors to reopen.

Not really paying attention to the stranger joining your 30-second elevator ride, you simply step to the side to make more room for them.

It's not until they make eye contact with you that you realize it's your neighbor, the same one you'd borderline terrorized a few days ago for being irritating.

He's out of breath from catching the lift last minute, lungs still adjusting from the crisp air from outside. His jacket is zipped all the way up to his collar and his hair pokes out in spiky tuffs from beneath his hat.

He mumbles out a weak "sorry" before his eyes find the floor and the rickety door shuts, leaving the two of you alone in the suddenly very small space.

You'd cuss beneath your breath if you weren't close enough for him to hear it.

What's the acceptable thing to do in this scenario? You mentally weigh out your options. Sit in an awkward silence? Introduce yourself as if your encounter never even happened? Address the fact that you banged on his door a few days ago and insulted him as a first impression?

You choose the silence. If anything, you silently pray that behind your winter apparel and the lack of eye contact, he doesn't even recognize you.

But that thought goes to shit when you see that he's already pressed the fifth-floor button for you.

You swear the ride to your floor has never been this slow. Seconds feel like hours as you watch the digital number rise like paint drying on a wall. The elevator almost laughs at you as it stops on the third floor and opens itself to find no one there; you curse whoever decided to press the button before changing their mind and taking the stairs.

After what seems like forever, your floor finally flashes on the pixelated screen, and as you feel the elevator come to a stop—

The doors don't open.

You think it's just your dramatic prolonged sense of time until it's been about ten seconds and still, nothing. Just the two of you in a stopped elevator with doors that won't unlock.

You've never been one to believe in karma, but you can't help but think this is the universe punishing you for standing up for yourself. You are quite literally on your floor, a mere sliding door away from the embarrassing situation you got yourself in, but still, nothing happens.

He presses the button meant to prompt open the doors a few times with slight force.

"It does this, sometimes," he weakly coughs out in an attempt to make conversation. "It's uh—a shitty building."

You try pressing the button for yourself, "It's never done this for me."

Green Eyes sighs, slouching against his side of the wall and letting his head fall to rest on his shoulder, "Consider yourself lucky."

You huff, giving up on the button and turning to face him.

Your eyes didn't deceive you the first time you saw him — he is just as pretty as you'd initially thought. Not a great conversationalist, but nice to look at. He avoids eye contact until you speak up.

"It's happened to you before?" you gesture to the doors that won't open.

He catches your eye before nodding defeatedly, "This is the fourth time."

You can't help but bitterly laugh at the situation you're in.

"Maybe it's just you, then," you joke, looking up at the digital five mocking you in the corner.

Though you don't catch it, his eyes soften a bit as they fall on you. The corner of his mouth slightly quirks up when he chimes, "Could be."

You let yourself count another ten seconds before tossing your hands by your sides in aggravation and sighing, "So, what now? Hit the help button or—"

And like a blessing, or maybe a curse, you can't decide, the elevator chimes, signaling its arrival. The doors open swiftly as if there was nothing wrong with them in the first place, revealing your destination floor to you.

You whip your head to your upstairs neighbor, confused and almost asking for his permission to exit the elevator. You don't know why you do so, and you don't know why you only depart after he nods his head and waves his hand for you to continue.

Next time you leave your apartment, you find yourself taking the stairs to be safe.

…..

Your peaceful living is unsurprisingly short-lived. After a few enjoyable days, you'd given your neighbors too much credit as they now return to their usual noisiness. You find yourself rapping on their door once again.

This time, Brown Eyes answers.

Even before opening his mouth, he's instantly friendlier than his counterpart based on body language alone, completely opening the door all the way wide and leaning against the frame in his palm.

He's taller than you, but not as tall as the former who greeted you last time. With light rose-colored hair, he's all smiles and giggles. You'd think he were high if you could smell anything on him.

Oh, he's also shirtless.

"Hey, it's our friend again," he smiles at you before craning his neck backward, and you can make an educated guess on who exactly he's talking to.

You're quick to steer clear, "We aren't friends."

He laughs at your words, completely unfazed by the unwelcoming attitude. He casually sips on an energy drink that looks borderline lethal when he asks, "Were we being loud? You comin' to yell at us again?"

His lack of care for the situation surprisingly doesn't rub you the wrong way. Inconvenient? Yes, but not necessarily malicious, from what you can tell.

"I wouldn't be here for any other reason."

"Sorry," he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "We don't really have inside voices around here."

You can't help but roll your eyes at the childish excuse. "You should find some."

"Will do," he nods like a child being reprimanded in class, "sorry again."

He salutes you with a metal can in his left hand. Before you can turn your back to him and towards the elevator, you hear the same voice call out to you.

"Hey—!"

You stop midstride, slowly turning around to face the door again. He stands in the same position, leaning against the door frame as he points out the obvious.

"We didn't get your name last time."

You blink at him a few times, not caring enough to connect the dots and extend the nicety, but the friendly one persists. He places a palm on his (bare) chest as he gestures to himself, "I'm Itadori."

You nod with raised brows, "And I'm calling our landlord if you piss me off again."

You hear a soft chuckle from the inside of the apartment. The two of you turn at the sound of the noise, where Green Eyes hides his smile behind the strings of his sweatshirt and quickly returns his attention to his phone.

Itadori, apparently, looks back at you and nods to his friend, "That's Fushiguro."

You breathe out your own name and quickly make your way back towards your apartment. On the ride down to your floor, you find yourself repeating the name — Fushiguro. It tastes weird on your lips, and you hate the way you don't hate it.

..…

His name is Megumi. 

You learn this when a letter shows up at your door addressed to a Fushiguro Megumi. Mail mix-ups are common in the apartment complex, but you can't help but laugh at the coincidence - his name but your apartment number clearly displayed in black ink.

You examine the piece of paper closely. The cream-colored envelope covered in poorly drawn hearts and tacky puppy stickers placed randomly across its front found itself wedged into your door's mailbox. Flipping it over, the return address is a mere surname of Gojo underlined with a smiley face. 

A love letter, you realize. You're not sure why the shift in narrative suddenly fills your stomach with an uneasy weight of disappointment.

You're going out anyways, you tell yourself as you slip on your scarf and shimmy into your shoes. Between stopping at the grocery store for a few small things and dropping off overdue assignments at your professor's office, it's not like you're going out of your way to return the letter to its intended recipient. You're doing the right thing, being a good samaritan, your mind repeats. 

The single flight up the stairs is easy enough and a good excuse for exercise. Approaching the door that mimics your own floor below, the same one you've already visited two times too many, you feel weirdly nervous. Just slide it beneath his door and call it a day.  

As you bend to slip the paper beneath the door, it swings open. 

You quickly stand up straight and back away from the opening, as the shadow in your peripheral startles from your presence and does the same. 

"Shit, sorry—"

Looking up, you lock eyes with the one and only whose letter lies in your hand. Fuck. 

He hesitates a bit when he realizes it's you, doing a double take and immediately assuming he's in trouble again. 

"We—" Megumi, you now know him to be, turns his back to you, quickly surveying his empty apartment to show you, "aren't playing? Yuuji's not even home, so—”

You're not sure why you're the slightest bit hurt by his more than reasonable accusation. The only two times you've been at his door were to reprimand him, so of course he's not wrong to assume this time was no different. Still, it has you feeling guilty as you dryly swallow and raise your arm.   

"I was sticking this under your door," you sigh, handing him the ridiculous-looking envelope. "Got sent to my place accidentally."

His eyes flicker to your extended hand, and when he sees the writing on the envelope between your fingers, his body instantly goes hot with embarrassment.

"Of course it did," he groans beneath his breath, almost annoyed. 

A bit abruptly, he grabs the letter from you and places his hand behind his back, telling himself that if it's out of sight, you'll forget it ever happened entirely.

His uneasiness and slight frustration have you taking a small step back as he snatches the envelope. He senses your hesitation and immediately mourns how he acted out of instinct, sighing and slowly moving the letter from behind him to rest by his side.

He softens and clears his scratchy throat, something you've come to notice he does a lot. "Thanks."

Feeling a bit brave, you raise your eyebrows, amused at his odd behavior. Your words are taunting yet friendly when you nod to the note at his arm.

"You should probably tell your girlfriend that you're in #603, not #503."

Megumi's face is often stoic and downturned, aside from a slight pull of a smile that can rarely be seen on occasion. But at these words, you watch in regret as Megumi's expression mimics one of disgust mixed with pure mortification. 

"Oh, this—" his eyes fall to the envelope he thinks might be the cause of his death, "this isn't from a girlfriend. It's actually a lot worse than that." 

"Worse?" you push.

"It's... from a family friend," he weakly reveals. "Kinda like a dad, I guess." 

You find yourself smiling at the meek yet sweet confession, nodding along and biting back a good-hearted laugh at his timidness. 

"Right, I just assumed with the hearts and the cute stickers that—" you trail off, gesturing to the letter that clearly presents itself as something else. 

He laughs a bit humorlessly and itches the back of his neck shyly.

"That would make a lot more sense and be a lot less humiliating, yeah."

You take a moment to take in his shyness. He's harmless, you decide at that very moment. You make a mental note to remind yourself to weigh the sides of the subject at hand. 

Cons: awkward, obvlvious, bad neighbor, a tad unfriendly at times

Pros: annoyingly attractive, nice enough in actual conversation, respectful in passing, girlfriend-less 

You shake those points from your head, taking a breath and slowly moving towards the elevator. "It could've been worse. The stickers could've been puppies and kittens," you tease. 

You expect that to be all, because that's all it should be, right? An awkward yet friendly coincidence between two strangers who got off on the wrong foot. You're locked in on entering the elevator when you hear his voice from behind you. 

"Sorry—" he shortly blurts out. 

You turn, expecting him to elaborate on the outburst. The look on his face almost reads as if he wasn't planning to until seeing your reaction, where he explains, "That we're loud sometimes. I really do try to tell Yuuji to shut up, but he's just... a lot."

You don't know why your heart swells at the apology. 

"It's fine," you nod softly. Turning your back, you call out to him as you enter the elevator. "You've actually been pretty tolerable this week, but don't let that go to your head."

As the elevator closes, you see Megumi smile before returning inside and closing his door. This time, you don't stop the thoughts that flow through your head.

Pro: cute

.….

You suppose it was only a matter of time before the tables you'd set managed to turn on you, but you just didn't expect it so soon. Because the next time you run into your neighbors, it's them knocking on your door for a change.

The sharp winter wind shakes the sides of your building with rage — the kind that results in creaky panels and systems outages in certain sectors of your building.

After waking to take a shower early this morning and being greeted with piercing cold water that refused to warm up, no matter how long you ran the faucet, you knew today would be a long one.

Clad in layers of fuzzy socks and bulky hoodies, you rise from the couch to answer the banging outside. After opening the door to see who's on the other side, it takes less than a second for the visitor to make himself at home.

"You out of hot water, too?" Yuuji casually brushes past you, walking into your home and stopping in the center of the living room. He looks around the space in awe — as if his own place just a singular level above doesn't mimic the exact same floor plan.

Still in the hallway but keeping an eye on his friend's questionable behavior, Megumi waits in the hallway. He's on the phone with someone, his cell wedged between his elbow and ear. When he begins asking about the building's backup generator, you mentally thank him for being the only proactive one here.

You sigh and turn to Yuuji, who's admiring your wall art and the fact that you have an actual television stand, "I'm out of heat in general."

"Damn," he blurts out without a thought, "that sucks."

You overhear Megumi wrapping up his conversation in the background when your lips are pulled downward in confusion.

"Are you guys not?"

"Oh no, we are," Yuuji continues admiring your apartment with a child-like curiosity, "but we have a space heater that's doing the job for now. How are you so good at decorating?"

You ignore his question, turning to Megumi who now stands on the threshold of your doorway. He makes a face, one of tight lips and sympathy, almost as if he's wordlessly apologizing for both the unfortunate scenario and his roommate's lack of social etiquette.

You further wrap yourself in your own little warmth, crossing your arms inwards. "That's actually really smart of you guys," you manage to croak out.

"You can come up and chill if you want," Yuuji mindlessly offers, eyes scanning over the magnets on your fridge. He can't stop himself from fiddling with a cherry-shaped one that holds up a baby picture of you from kindergarten.

The shock on your face must be obvious because you swear you hear Megumi swallow a chuckle at your reaction.

"You came down here… to ask me to chill?" Your voice octaves up towards the end, almost as if repeating the offer will reveal itself to be a track or joke.

While Yuuji nods eagerly, you can hear Megumi muttering from behind the neckline of his sweatshirt.

"Sue us for extending a neighborly olive branch."

As Yuuji continues to outwardly snoop around your kitchen, his eyes land on your oven-top clock and he whines.

"I actually have class in twenty and need to catch the shuttle to campus, but you're welcome to not freeze to death with Fushiguro, if you want."

You check your phone, confirming the time when you question, "Didn't the last shuttle of the hour leave already?"

You watch the gears turn in Itadori's mind for a second before he smacks a palm to his head, quickly brushing past you and out the door.

"Fuck me, see you guys later then—" he hurries, the only sound following him being the swishing of his winter coat and clunky booted footsteps jostling down the stairs.

And with Megumi still standing in your doorway and the sound of the main staircase gate slamming behind Yuuji's path, you could hear a pin drop between the two of you if it weren't for the howling wind outside (which you find yourself suddenly grateful for rather than loathing it).

Megumi shifts his weight on the balls of his feet as he stands. He clears his throat in a way he hopes is subtle.

"You can still come up," he gestures to the hallway with a nod of his head, before cautiously adding, "if you want."

Instinctively, you feel your body curl further in on itself. Megumi must notice it too, as his eyes quickly flicker to your raw hands tucked beneath your arms.

"It's not that bad in here," you weakly dismiss.

He deadpans, "I can almost see your breath."

A sigh leaves your chilled body and you look up at Megumi. Now it's your turn to silently communicate with him — eyebrows raising and wavering between your options, you chew on your cheek in thought.

"You don't have to," he softly adds, hands burrowing themselves in the pocket of his hoodie. "Just wanted to see if you needed anything, I guess."

"What did the landlord say?" your words are muffled from your teeth in your cheek.

Megumi's eyes light up a bit before they find his scuffed Converse again.

"He's sending his guys over, but it's gonna take an hour, at least."

After another minute that feels like twenty, you softly speak up.

"…Do you really have a space heater?"

As he fights off a smile, Megumi gently nods.

.….

You'll admit, the apartment looks better than you'd imagined. Not that your standards weren't too high to begin with, but you're pleasantly surprised.

Megumi unlocks the front door, gesturing for you to enter as he slowly closes it behind him, shivering a bit from the draft weaving through the hallway.

It's clean, relatively. The design of the rooms and open areas are identical to your layout below, but between the decor (or lack thereof) and the overhanging presence of the space, it feels so different.

Their television, the one you know to be responsible for their rowdiness, balances on what looks to be a bedside table. Far too small for the proportions of the TV but just enough to carry the width of the screen's base, it looks silly but does the job.

"You can just…" Megumi waves his hand to the living room, awkwardly trailing off as he insists. "Sit. Wherever you want."

Your seating choices include a felt futon in scrappy condition, two lopsided beanbags, and a busted recliner. You take your chances with the futon.

Surveying the apartment, it's not terrible — truthfully, you'd been expecting worse from college guys. You give them props; aside from a few half-drank plastic water bottles and withering plants on their window sill, there's nothing that outwardly goes against any health violations or suitable living standards. No empty beer cans or pizza boxes, no trashy flags or posters hung on the walls. It's decent.

And the space heater working overtime in the corner outlet is a major plus. Feeling the angle of its warmth blasting on your legs, you exhale at the heat and rub your fuzzy slippers together on instinct.

"Do you want anything?" Megumi stands a few feet away, nervous for someone in the comfort of his own home, "Water or a drink, or something?"

It's sweet how respectful he's being — you think back to whoever sent him that letter, imagining they raised him right.

You shake your head curtly, "I don't take drinks from strange men."

His face drops instantly.

"Oh—right," he swallows harshly, fumbling with his sparse words. "I didn't mean it like that or anything, but that makes sense. I just meant—”

The stoic expression you were attempting to upkeep fails and you can't fight off the smile that pulls at your cheeks. Exhaling a laugh and looking over at him, you apologize, "I'm just kidding, Megumi."

He feels his stomach instantly solidify like cement at your words — Megumi. He doesn't recall you ever referring to him by any name, let alone his first. He feels a wandering heat itching up his neck when he coughs up a chuckle.

He shakes his head, sitting on the opposite end of the futon and leaving the middle cushion between the two of you unoccupied.

"Fuck off," he scratches his jaw to busy his shaky hands. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of a few silver rings wrapping around his knuckles.

As the warmth of the space heater (solely the space heater, you remind yourself) gradually dissolves the chill that's been stuck up your spine for the last few hours, you slightly settle further into your seat.

"So this is the scene of the crime, huh?" you motion to the gaming console propped up on the floor beside the makeshift television stand.

Megumi amuses an exhale through his nose and nods along, "Yeah. I mean, you've kinda seen it from the hallway before."

"Yeah, but this is the real thing, first-person point of view. It's just missing me downstairs hitting the ceiling with my broom twenty times."

The next few minutes are stolen by a whole lot of small talk that holds no weight. Beginning to panic at how the hell you're gonna make it through this entire hour with little to talk about, your eyes fall on the television once more.

"So," you curl into the futon. "Show me something worth screaming over."

Without warning, Megumi chokes on his own saliva as he swallows.

"Huh?"

"A game," you quickly correct, not realizing how your words sounded and nodding to the television before you. "I meant, show me a game that justifies how loud you two get."

The game is fine, nothing revolutionary but admit that you could see how it could be entertaining for some. A standard battle royal concept, Megumi hands you his second controller and walks you through the instructions on how to play.

You mimic the way his fingers hold the controller, how they flex and bend to hit certain buttons for special uses. Throughout the tutorial of trial and error, the two of you naturally close the gap of the middle cushion, now much closer as you copy his movements and use his hands for reference. He even goes as far as reaching over to point out certain buttons to you, skimming your fingers hesitantly as he pulls away.

It's safe to say you don't win, don't even come close, but he's a good sport all the same. He laughs when you're hit by enemies and revives you with little to no mocking. He whispers an encouraging "there you go" whenever you manage to land a hit on someone, followed by an "I got you" when he's covering for your character. It's fun — you freeze a bit when you realize that you like spending time with him, even doing the very thing that caused this entire debacle in the first place.

You don't realize how much time has passed until Megumi's phone vibrates from the coffee table. His eyes quickly glance over the unsaved number, almost as if recognizes the contact and is debating on answering or not.

Your eyes narrow teasingly when you taunt, "You gonna take that?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Megumi nods, swipes his screen, and holds his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

The conversation is short, maybe thirty seconds in total. Though you can't make out any specific words, you can hear the rumbling of another deep voice on the other end of the call. Megumi listens half-heartedly, nodding along and chiming in here and there to acknowledge the caller.

"Hey, yeah. That was me. Right, okay. Okay, nice. Thanks, appreciate it."

The call ends and Megumi puts his phone down on the coffee table once more. You swear you can hear a small sense of disappointment in his voice when he breathes.

"That was the maintenance guy," he breathes softly. "Heat's back on."

You feel your own body getting sour with misfortune. Why are you so bitter about the thought of going back downstairs to your own apartment?

Nodding at his words, you slowly stand and do your best to sound relieved. "Thank god," you joke, "I was beginning to think I might have to sleep on this gross futon."

Megumi sneers, rolling his eyes and rising to walk you to the door. Before you step into the hallway, you turn to face him.

"Thanks," your tone is spineless, one he's unable to recognize from you before you elaborate, "for letting me leech off of your heat."

"No problem," he shoots you a genuine look. "Consider it reparations for all of the times we've annoyed you."

"All of the times?" you shoot him a harmless glare.

Unlike most who cower and scowl at your sarcastic quips, Megumi seems to bloom beneath your daggered attempts at pushing him away.

"Fine," he exaggerates a groan, "maybe not all. But it's a start, right?"

A start. The insinuation tickles all air out of your lungs like a feather. Though you pretend to be annoyed and kiss your teeth at his words, you nod all the same.

Leaving his door, Megumi seems lighter than he did when you first entered.

"Sorry you just kinda watched me play video games for almost two hours," he calls out to you as you depart, hands returning to his pockets.

"Don't be," you honestly tell him as your head cranes back to look at him. "It was nice to be up here for reasons other than wanting to strangle you."

.….

A day and a half later when the universe has realigned itself and it's you knocking on their door again, they half expect you to be followed by your stuffy landlord holding an eviction notice.

Much to their surprise, you're alone, rather skittish — and holding a tupperware container of… cookies?

It's Megumi who opens the door initially, but Yuuji is quick to squeeze his way into the opening at the sight of your familiar face and mysterious delivery in hand.

"Ooooooh, what are these?" he inquires, unashamed as he pokes his nose into your space in an attempt to get a better look at the baked goods.

Pulling a bit away from his antics, you swallow back any potential wisecracks.

"Thank you for being neighborly and not letting me die of hypothermia cookies," you keep your voice neutral.

"Are they poisoned?" Megumi pipes in.

You shoot him a scowl, one he's learned is innocent enough, and his eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Shit, can't remember if I added vanilla or vitriol?" your head cocks to the side in faux thought.

Your eyes flicker to him as he chews on his cheek in a half-assed attempt to cover up his entertainment at your quickness.

Yuuji, focused on nothing but having a minimum of five cookies for good measure, snatches the container from your hands and carries it to the kitchen counter.

He's already opening the dish and helping himself as he chews, "I don't even know what that is, so I'm gonna take my chances."

Megumi gives a quick thank you for the cookies, and Yuuji chimes in behind a satiated mouth and crumby lips. You brush off their graces, reminding them it's just you returning the favor for the heating situation.

Just as you're about to see yourself out of their entryway, you hear an authentic offer from the kitchen.

"Hey," Yuuji wipes his lips with the back of his hand, and something about it feels oddly youthful to you, "wanna come over this weekend?"

You look at the two of them for a moment, waiting to see if there's a punchline to come, before carefully treading, "Why?"

"We're havin' some friends over," Yuuji reveals casually before going to take another large bite, "and I guess you're funny enough to hang out with us."

The hesitation in your response must be more apparent than you think because he's quick to chuckle and elaborate on the offer.

"It's not an orgy," he teases at your stiffness before grabbing at another cookie and shrugging. "We get take out, chill, drink a little, kick ass in Mario Kart."

You nod as you listen to his words. He's kind, they both are, and you know the offer to be a genuine one. Still, the situation makes your stomach ache with uncertainty at the thought of mingling with strangers for the sake of your mere — acquaintances? Neighbors? Friends?

"As fun as that sounds," you breathe, clearly trying but failing to convince them of your apologetic tone, "I don't really wanna intrude on you and your friends.

"It's not intruding if you're invited," Megumi interjects for the first time in the conversation.

Looking at where he stands against the counter, his eyes are on you. They're careful, but hopeful in a gentle kind of way. He wants you to say yes — but he'd rather swallow a knife than his own pride and admit it himself.

Your words are unconvincing when you sigh, "Not really in the hangout mood. Next time, okay?"

The two men deflate a bit, one more dramatic and obvious than the other, but they nod at your rejection. Wiping his hands off on his shorts, Yuuji walks you to the door, thanking you again for the sweets and joking about you getting home safe on your long journey back downstairs.

You can't help but giggle at his theatrics, insisting that, "If you need me this weekend, I'll be rotting away on my couch with a bottle of wine and a week's worth of Love Island to catch up on."

Yuuji laughs wholeheartedly, "Your loss, see ya."

Megumi weakly waves as his best friend swings the door shut. Once closed, Yuuji turns to him with a cheeky smile he knows can mean nothing good.

Megumi grimaces at his enthusiasm, "What?"

Yuuji nods to the door, a toothy grin spreading across his face. "Think I'm gonna ask her out."

Megumi's quick to react poorly.

"What?" he borderline knocks over the water bottle next to him on the counter. He catches it, embarrassed by his obvious care for the situation as he tries to cover it up with a nonchalant scoff, "Why?"

Yuuji stares at him for a minute in disbelief before stating what he believes to be the obvious.

"'Cause she's hot and yells at us all the time?"

Megumi scoffs in distaste again. He fiddles with the rings on his right hand, pretending to be careless about a situation he's anything but careful about.

Sensing his roommate's off response, Itadori's quick to add. "Unless you wanna call dibs before I do?"

"Dibs?" Megumi groans.

"Yeah, like claiming—"

"I know what dibs means," he interrupts before Yuuji can dig his own grave any further. He slumps into the palm of his hand as his elbow rests atop the kitchen counter, "I just think that's shitty."

Yuuji, knowing Megumi well enough to sense that he's hit a sour spot, nods and backs off. He joins him at the counter again, oblivious as he grabs another cookie to chomp on. With cautious eyes and a mouth filled with chocolate, he speaks up.

"…So you don't wanna call dibs?"

.….

It's Saturday, almost Sunday, according to the cat clock on your wall.

You'd kept your word. Beneath a few blankets and practically one with your couch cushions, you're spending your weekend doing exactly what you'd anticipated.

The television continues to play the stream of episodes you're catching up on. With your second glass of red in hand, you tune in and out of the segments when the good parts catch your attention. It feels good to relax, to do nothing and to be nothing behind tipsy and fatigued eyes.

A sudden knock on your door puts a minor wedge in your plans. Sitting up with a groan, you whimper beneath your breath but move to answer it regardless.

Maybe you forgot to tip your delivery driver when he dropped off your takeout a few hours ago and he's back for revenge. Maybe it's your drunk friends, showing up to ruin your night and attempting to persuade you to join them on their foolish escapades. Maybe it's someone with the wrong address.

Locking eyes with the visitor at your door, it's Megumi. Maybe you're drunker than you thought.

His delicate eyes match yours when he scarcely smiles, "Hi."

Your eyes go to the items in his hands — a few beer bottles, a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels, and a deck of cards.

Giggling to yourself, you stare at him, "I think you got off a floor too early."

Megumi laughs, and when you're able to get a good look at him, you can tell he's a bit tipsy, too. His shoulders aren't as tense as they usually are, he's still broad, but a lot looser now. His eyes are glossed over with a haze you're sure yours mimic. He scratches his nose awkwardly before opening his mouth.

"I—" he cuts himself off, eyes darting to the items in his arms before returning to you, "wanted to see you."

"Me?" you're unable to stop yourself from nearly gawking.

He laughs again, not obnoxiously but easy and natural. "Yes, you. Does someone else live here?"

"Don't you have plans with your friends?" you question, still not letting him inside.

"They're upstairs," he nods, "and no, I'm not here to force you to come up."

At his words, he can see your visible relief. Opening the door fully and letting him come inside, you relish in reassurance, "Good, I really didn't wanna be fake nice right now."

A smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he sets his belongings on your coffee table. "Fake nice?" he prompts.

"I mean, not that it's fake, it's just like—customer servicey. Y'know? Being kind to people in a way that's not ingenuine but—"

"Exhausting?" he finishes for you, and he's weirdly more talkative with a bit of alcohol in his veins. "Yeah, I feel that."

You sprawl onto your couch and he takes the seat next to you but refrains from leaning back as far. He watches you graze on your glass of wine, your legs crossed childishly as you gaze up at him.

"Are you like that with me?" he puts on a brave face. "Fake nice?"

He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding when you shake your head. After a hearty sip from your drink, you talk dramatically with your hands.

"Am I even real nice to you? I've kinda been a bitch since the day I banged on your door."

Megumi shakes his head as he laughs, which in return allows you to do the same. He relaxes a bit further into the warmth of your cushions, lolling his head to look at you as he opens himself a beer.

"I don't think so," he shrugs. "You're not wrong for complaining about us being understandably annoying."

Things lighten up as time passes. The night gets a bit blurry but it's fun, carefree. The two of you sit on your tiny couch, passing a bag of pretzels back and forth, and playing stupid card games that bring out your competitive sides and don't have real rules.

Minutes bleed into hours and you're not sure what time it is when it's late enough for Megumi to start yawning. Enjoying a comfortable silence between the two of you, his voice is temperate when he asks.

"Why didn't you want to hang out with us?"

He almost seems mournful, and a part of you feels guilty as his eyes blink heavily down on you. You exhale, readjusting your legs and throwing your head back.

"Seemed like a friend group thing," is what eventually crawls up from your throat. "Felt weird being the only one who didn't know everyone, y'know?"

He considers before nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. But I would've been with you."

His stare feels sharp, like he can see right through your facade and into parts of you you've buried deep a long time ago. You hate it and love it, want to drown yourself in it and voluntarily inhale until your own demise.

Unable to hold his stare, you look into your almost empty glass, swishing around the bleeding wine and ice that remains at the bottom.

"Well, you're here with me now, anyway."

Megumi continues to admire you without words. Pointing an accusatory finger back at him, you nudge his leg with your foot. "So, why aren't you up there?"

"Cause you didn't show up," he doesn't hesitate to respond. Almost as if he regrets his eagerness but still stands by the sentiment, he clears his throat before adding, "Was weirdly hoping you would, but—"

He doesn't finish his sentence, trailing off with a lame shrug.

His eyes look greener when they're a bit more watery. Fuck it.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time to assess his reactions, you move to crawl into his lap. You sense a difference in his breathing pattern, but other than that, he makes no move to pull away from you. He lets you carefully straddle his legs before getting comfortable atop him, when he places his hands on the plush between your hips and thighs.

Leaning in, giving him any chance to reject you, stop you, hate you, you continue to keep his eye as your lips just barely brush against his. He does the same, refusing to look away from you as if he'll never get this opportunity again. As if he wants to take a picture and relish it forever.

"Stop me," you bite through a hushed whisper, daring him to put an end to this before it begins.

His breath is lulled against your own when he whispers, "No."

You kiss him, and he kisses you back. It starts simple, like you're learning all about one another's creases and folds. Between shaky inhales and nervous hands, you lean into one another's touch, savoring every taste and sound you can manage.

Megumi feels brave, and on one particular gasp from you, he prudently skims his tongue across your lower lip before slipping it inside. Rubbing against your own with a fervent need, you open your jaw further for him to have whatever he wants. Between your increased breathing, soft moans, and greedy hands, the two of you slowly become messy and desperate for one another.

Hips wantonly moving against his thighs, he flexes instinctually as you begin to grind yourself down on him. He meets your movements, half hard as he presses into you, both of you whimpering at the new-found friction. The two of you reduce to whiney teenagers, practically swallowing one another whole and dry-humping fully clothed before you open your eyes to look at him.

Megumi, eyes shut and whimpering into your neck, is too good for this — deserves more than this. He's kind, respectful, funny (though you'd never tell him that to his face), and you're both drunk. It feels so fucking good, but it isn't right. It's not supposed to happen like this.

Slowing your movements, you pull back to see his face. Dazed, he opens his pretty green eyes to look up at you like you hold the stars and sun in your hands.

"We shouldn't," you pant, brushing your bangs back and catching your breath. "We should stop."

Megumi, confused and hurt, but instantly moving you off of his lap with a gentle hold, nods in agreement. "Right, right, we're — we're drunk," he whispers, almost ashamed of everything that just happened.

Before you can say anything, he's readjusting himself and standing up. A bit more sober than he was a few minutes ago, he's straightening himself out and making his way to your door.

"Sorry—" he keeps repeating himself, "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He's gone before you can reassure him that there's nothing to apologize for.

.....

You don't hear from him the next morning — or afternoon. 

When night falls, you've given up that there's any hope of saving whatever it was the two of you had going. 

Wanting to drown yourself in your own sorrows, you stare at the text from your friend before you and weigh your options. 

Stay in, cry yourself to a babbling mess, and finish your show

Answer their text and agree to go to this party with them

Thinking back to last night and how badly you fucked that one up, you decide the first choice is off-limits. Hoping you don't regret your decision, it's not long before you're looking decent enough to lock your door behind you and start the commute to your friends. 

The walk isn't terrible, being ten minutes to your friend's place and an additional fifteen to whoever's party you're attending. On the west side of campus, you can hear the muffled music and drunken squeals of the attendees from down the street. 

The party itself is fine, nothing special. The lime seltzer in your hand is still half full when you stray away from your friends in search of the bathroom. 

There's a line formed down the hallway of drunk girls laughing, couples swallowing one another's faces, and a single guy slumped against the wall in his own world. Taking a second glance at the end of the line, you recognize the lone drunk as Yuuji. 

Gently tapping his shoulder, his eyes blink open and he's nearly crushing you to death when wrapping his arms around you in excitement. He lets his animation get the best of him, lifting you in the air and spinning you once before he realizes he can't handle another. Leaning on the wall to steady both you and him, you're smiling at his sloppy yet endearing enthusiasm. 

"What are you doing here!?" he beams, swaying back and forth and reeking of cheap booze. 

"My friends dragged me out of the house," you tease before noticing truly how incoherent he is. Your nose crinkles with worry, "You fucked up?"

He can barely stand up straight, eyes unable to focus in one spot for too long as he blearily looks at you before skimming his body against the wall again. He's talking in slow gibberish, something about having one too many and wanting to talk to this pretty girl from his linguistics lecture before she leaves.

"Hey," you gently grab his jaw to steady his gaze. "Did you come here alone?"

Yuuji doesn't answer, or rather he does but it's nonsensical and impossible to go off of. You sigh, quickly scanning the suddenly overwhelming crowd around you before grabbing his arm and speaking kindly, yet reflective of a mother. 

"Let me take you back to our building, okay?" you prompt him to stand up straight and follow your lead. "I'm going back anyways, I'll walk with you."

Yuuji's eyes light up with excitement at the thought of a journey with his neighbor friend, and it's not long before he's dragging his feet over one another and using your hand as a guide to the door. 

On your walk home, you ache for the comfort of your warm bed, the feeling of taking these god-forsaken heels off, and Megumi's forgiveness. You wonder if you'll see him when dropping off Yuuji at his door — you pathetically hope so. 

However, Yuuji didn't show up to this party alone.

Megumi, who had been grabbing him a drink and caught a glimpse of you two, saw the entire thing without context — Yuuji's hands around your waist, you caressing his jaw, the two of you leaving abruptly together. 

He downs both his and Yuuji's drinks with ease. 

..…

Megumi wasn't home.

Disappointed but relieved to see Yuuji safe in the comfort of his apartment, you help him collapse on his couch.

Turning him on his side and making him drink at least two cups of water before throwing a blanket over him and leaving a note, you close the door behind you with a heavy heart.

A few minutes later, you're a bit more at ease. Feet now ridden of silly high heels and skin against the soft cotton of your bed, you find yourself flooded with thoughts of Megumi.

You wake up to a constant thud on your front door. Picking up your phone, it's almost two in the morning and you're not even sure you're not dreaming when you're feet carry you to the blistering noise of a fist on your door.

Swinging it open with half-closed eyes, you're more than prepared to fight a murder charge to get whoever the hell this is to leave you alone. But before you can curse them with everything in you, you realize it's Megumi.

"Hi," he whispers. It's a start contrast from the violent banging on your door he was responsible for two seconds ago, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

"Hi," you respond, suddenly more than awake and just as breathless. "You okay?"

"Are you sleeping with Yuuji?"

Your heart skips exactly two beats before you can accurately comprehend his question. It's then when you notice that he's drunk, disgustingly so. You're not sure how it wasn't the first thing you noticed - but looking at his green eyes again, you give yourself some grace.

"… What?" is all you can pathetically muster.

"Itadori," he slurs. His face is pale with hurt and the collar of his shirt is all wrinkled.

You can't help but roll your eyes, "Yeah, I know who Yuuji is, but why the hell are you asking me that?"

"Because you shouldn't be," he declares through a heavy tongue and spinning head. You think you hear his voice crack with emotion when he continues, "I don't want you to sleep with him."

You're sure you're still dreaming as you take in his words. Since the moment you knocked on the door one floor above you, sleeping with Yuuji has never crossed your mind. You've been far too busy focusing on thinking about the man in front of you, who's wasted beyond belief and accusing you of something that not only doesn't make sense but hurts a bit.

He fumbles on his words, swallowing dryly and spiraling.

"You shouldn't sleep with him just because he walks around shirtless and invites you to hang out with us."

Your eyebrows pull downwards with what Megumi knows is hurt. He can't stop himself from talking or spewing nonsensical things just because he can.

Your voice is shaky when you plea, "Megumi, what?"

"I mean—he's my best friend, he's great," he throws his hands up to surrender the truth. "But we played video games and—and we kissed. And you're always looking at me with those eyes and—"

"Megumi," your voice comes tired now, cold. "You're drunk."

"You left with him. And you were whispering in his ear and touching his arm." He frowns, feeling sick just thinking about it again. He shakes the nightmare from his head when repeating his prior question.

"Are you sleeping with him?" he asks again, more accusatory this time around.

He watches your eyes fill with water, but it's not long-lived before you're blinking away any sign of weakness and cementing your walls up again.

"If you didn't notice," you spit with venom, "your friend is drunk off of his ass. I walked him home since he could barely stand on his own."

As if you're speaking another language, Megumi dumbly gapes at your confession.

"You—what?"

You press with ice in your words, "Walked him home. He's passed out on your couch right now."

"Oh." Megumi hadn't returned to his apartment before coming to yours. He'd walked home from the shitty party with one destination in mind, immediately talking the elevator to the fifth floor and finding your familiar floor.

He feels stupid, nauseous with guilt, and god, does his head hurt. His heart hurts too when you scoff and cross your arms in defense.

"Wanna go back to the part where you were practically calling me a slut?"

He cringes, "No, no god no, that's not what I was trying to—"

You don't give him the luxury of explaining himself. Turning your back and slamming the door, you take away his chance of redemption.

You sound unrecognizable when you tell him, "Go to fucking bed, Fushiguro."

.….

The birds outside of your window remind you that it's Sunday, and the open book on your desk reminds you that not only do you have class tomorrow, but you have an assignment due before midnight.

Memories of last night's conversation — if you could even call it that — with Megumi make you feel queazy. Nothing happened in the way you'd wanted. It all just spiraled out of control, like water slipping through a cracked ceiling, you'd just watched it leak without remorse.

The continued chirping outside reminds you that it's quiet, something you should use to your advantage. A light in this mess of a pathetic story.

You'll study, you decide. You'll grab a quick coffee from the cafe across the street and get some actual work done. Something you should've done a long time ago, something you’d ignored that ended up with this this heartbreak.

Not even ten minutes later, you're decent enough to slide your shoes on and grab your house keys. Opening the door into the hallway, you're met with familiar eyes.

Megumi looks disheveled, sitting with his knees up against the wall of your hallway. At your abrupt opening of the front door, he's quick to stand up and dust his pants off from the grime of the hallway carpet. You notice he has a paper bouquet of pinks and blues in his hand and an exhausted frown on his face.

When he looks at you, he can almost feel the air leaving your lungs as your stomach drops.

The first words you say to him are softer than he expects, than he thinks he deserves, but still carried by a look of disapproval.

"Were you here all night?" your lip turns with disgust.

"No—" he spews too quickly. Seeing your expression that clearly reads disbelief, he slows himself down. Taking a deep breath, he repeats himself with a bit more certainty. "No, I've been here since like, seven maybe?"

"Why?"

His hand trembles in a way he hopes you have the respect to ignore as he moves to give you the bouquet. "Because I'm sorry," his voice is steady, like he's been practicing in the mirror.

Choosing to make him work for it, your eyes flicker to the flowers unimpressed before finding his face again.

"For?" you cruelly push him further.

But Megumi's determined to meet your forces just as equally. His voice gains confidence as he speaks clearly, "For panicking and assuming the worst last night. I was drunk, but that's not an excuse. It was a douchebag thing to do."

Admiring how your face softens at his apology but still carries creased lines of worry, Megumi half expects your response.

"And?"

This is the part he's a bit unprepared for.

"And for leaving that night," his volume dips with the confession, eyes wanting to find comfort in the floor so badly but refusing to leave your own as he tries and tries and tries to fix this, "I..."

His lips move before he can think twice about his words, "I thought it was what you wanted."

His confession cracks something inside of you, like nails digging crescents into raw skin. Slowly, you gesture for him to come inside. He hesitates but follows when you move towards the couch, the same couch you'd straddled him on two nights prior. It looks different in the daylight.

Megumi's careful with each step, as if he's walking on eggshells, when he slowly sits beside you on the couch. Placing the bouquet on your table, he moves as if you're a predator, as if he'll make one wrong move and you'll snap, lurching at him and sinking your talons into his neck. You hate how it makes you feel.

Your words surprise the both of you when they eventually come. "I'm sorry I reacted the way I did. I wanted you to stay I just—felt bad."

Felt bad? Megumi's mind goes numb at the realization. Felt bad for him? Like when you do a good deed to cancel out a bad one? Did you kiss him that night because you pitied him?

Before his mind runs itself further into the worst-case scenario, he's brought back to reality as you continue.

"We were drunk, and I didn't want that to be how it happened y'know?"

He starts at you blankly, "It?" He lamely asks.

This time, it's your voice that weakens with shame. He watches you fiddle with your fingers, the same ones he remembers feeling in his hair and on his skin. The ones he wants to feel again.

"Felt like I was coming onto you, and you deserved better than that," you eventually reveal softly, correcting yourself with certainty. "Deserve better than that."

And he feels stupid. God, does Megumi feel stupid. All this time, he'd been thinking you regretted the why of the situation, kissing him like you did. He'd never stopped to think about the fact of how you did it. Never thought you'd be so inclined to consider his wishes.

You think he regrets it, and that is the last thing he wants you to believe.

Taking a risk, Megumi lays a gentle palm on your thigh. He does so slowly, giving you a chance to revolt and bite his hand clean off the bone. You don't so he relaxes his hand.

It's not sexual, not desperate and needy like how it was the other night. It's calm. comforting. Another way for him to say I'm still here, aren't I?

"I'm not great with words," he starts, "but I was very much into it. I need you to know that. You didn't—do anything I didn't want."

Softly and ignoring the criticism from the voice in your head for once, you nod.

You recognize the familiar pull of his lips when he softly grins. "Think it's pretty obvious now, but in case it's not," he leans into this whole communicating thing, "I really like being around you."

He thinks his heart grows a size when you weakly smile back at him, "You like being around me?"

He shrugs, laughing at your sarcasm. "Around you, with you. I guess I just like you, really."

You raise your eyebrows, challenging his statement, "Are you still drunk?"

"Fuck no."

You hum shortly. "Hungover?"

"Disgustingly so," he grimaces at the reminder of how nauseous he is.

"Thinking clearly?"

"Never really around you, but clear as I can be."

It's soft and sweet, and this is how you wanted it to be. Naturally, as if you're both magnets being pulled to one another, Megumi is carefully guiding you into his lap as you're naturally making yourself at home in his hold.

The position almost exactly mimics the one you'd found yourself in on Friday night, but this time, it's different. It feels different — golden instead of red and light with a newfound meaning.

With gentle eyes and slight nods from each of you, you kiss once more. His mouth moves the same, eager yet graceful as he leans into you. No wandering hands or drunken hiccups, you feel one another smile into the kiss until it is all giggles and teeth.

"Y'know, if you wanted to ask me out," you pull away from him, accusatory with an underlying teasing, "you should've just asked like a normal person instead of accusing me of sleeping with your friend."

Megumi groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in your neck. You feel the heat of his cheeks when he sighs.

"Yeah, that wasn't my finest moment."

Kisses are stolen and silence is shared until he yawns you remember how awful he must still feel from drinking so much. Crawling off of his lap, you ignore the butterflies in your stomach whines he whines at the loss of your weight.

"Want anything?" you call out as you walk towards the kitchenette. "I have Advil and a bagel with your name on it."

Megumi hums at the thought, not confirming or denying the offer, as his eyes remain locked in on you in a blissful comfort.

Your voice becomes more distant as you turn the corner, "I'll even give you those eyes I know you like so much."

A muffled sound of humiliation can be heard from the couch, "God, please forget I said that."

Putting the bagel in the toaster and reaching up to the medicine cabinet, you laugh carelessly.

"Never."

…..

Yuuji wakes up with a throbbing headache and an acidic burning in the back of his throat.

He groans, turning on his side before realizing that — he's not in his bed. With blurry vision and sweaty hands fumbling to survey the environment around him, he feels for his phone. The screen is far too bright and completely overridden of missed calls and texts, reading a mocking 2:14 PM when he groans.

When yelling Megumi's name a handful of times doesn't work (it usually does), he opens his Find My Friends app and tracks his roommate. Seeing his icon appear right next to his own while ironically hearing your echoing laughter ring from upstairs, he laughs.

Before he closes his eyes again and deals with a hangover from hell, he sends Megumi a text before tossing his phone across the room.

Ur welcome for not actually calling dibs.

[fiendishfables]

Hiii cookie bookie pookie bear, I was wondering if you could write for my short king again (lucifer)! Babyboy is short but how will he be with a gf/wife that is shorter than him! Rahh so cute ♡

Lucifer x Shorter S/O! Fem! Reader

Headcanons

warnings: fluff, short people jokes, Lucifer being an emotional dork and lover

words: 664

a/n: sorry for the lack of fics, I've been super busy and have had no motivation recently! Thanks for 300+ followers, I love y'all!

First of all, it's very rare that Lucifer finds anyone shorter than himself, so you'll have to excuse the literal squeal of excitement he emits the moment he sees you

When you first mention your romantic feelings for him, he had a field day

Someone like yourself, being so beautiful AND short, liking HIM?

He swore it was like being back up in Heaven again

Definitely never misses a chance to make a short joke, despite his own height misfortunes

The internet aided him in coming up with originals

"Hey, how's the weather down there?"

"My golly, it really is the little things in life that matter, isn't it darling?

You have attempted to bite his ankles a few times

Don't worry, if his jokes somehow ends up hurting your feelings, he will be quick to apologize and coddle you for the rest of the day

He is usually very ecstatic whenever you ask him to get anything for you off of a high perch; his chest literally swells with pride that he finally has someone who can come to him for that sort of stuff

"Oh, that old thing up there? No worries, my love. Step aside, step aside now."

Ends up having to get the kitchen stool

But by then, more often than not, it ends up with neither of you being able to reach it, not even with the help of his cane or the stool

Results in him having to get either his daughter, or the spider pornstar he usually tried to avoid if possible (mainly result of his intimidations due to his height, but he was a friend of Charlies)

He will physically deflate if he can't fulfill a need/request you have for him; it crushes his spirit

Likes to put his arm on your head whenever he stands next to you

Its a symbol of both his affection for you and his desire to playfully irritate you

Says you make a good armrest

He only got the satisfaction of saying it once though, because you kicked him harshly in the shin after

He thinks you are just the cutest thing when you're mad; he likes seeing you yell at other people, especially Alastor

But if you yell at him instead during these times, he will go wrap himself up in a blanket and have a breakdown on his own time

You wont see him for a good hour or two; he's off sobbing in some random corner

Eventually he will resurface and request your attention, which you gladly provide him with, apologizing and telling him your words were only humor based and not meant to be taken to heart

Lucifer is already such a sensitive soul, he claims you are turning him to mush by just being the cutest thing to ever behold him

He can't fathom the idea of ever making his precious lady mad at him

Loves getting you funny t-shirts and stuff that have short people jokes on them

Almost always insists on being the big spoon when the two of you cuddle

He's finally taller than someone for once in his life, okay?

He gets the chance to feel like he is effectively protecting someone, this time by covering them with his body like a shield; this has never happened before

Let him have this one victory; he feels accomplished, the poor baby

No one can deny that he has tons of fun with you, as he now gets to be the one who feels all high and mighty

Your height is an ongoing topic throughout the relationship

He often forgets that he himself still only stands just above five feet

He once even tried to fight Alastor because you genuinely make him feel like he's a 7ft giant

Safe to say he came back to you with his tail between his legs, feelings hurt, and still a whopping 5,2

But with you, he may as well have been standing on top of the world

[faithshouseofchaos]

Mini me — dad!Max Verstappen x reader

Tagged— @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @a-casual-romantic @amatswimming @bblouifford @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @faithsotherhouseofchaos @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @hrts4scarr @ironcowboycopnickel @jeffs77 @kimiracing07 @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lollypop90907 @moss-on-tmblr @norrisleclercf1 @natailiatulls07 @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vivwritesfics @vellicora @venusisnothere

Raven Katalina verstappen was a carbon copy of her father; they had everything in common. Raven wanted to be just like her father and race in formula one. Raven often joined her father on his sim racing with his help. Max noticed that Raven had a natural talent for racing. So he went and pulled out one of his many old race karts and fixed it up with the help of his daughter.

“Are you excited about your first karting race?” Max asked his daughter as he helped her zip up her race suit.

“Sure,” Raven replied nervously, “but I’m scared. Will I be ok?”

"You'll do great little one," Max said reassuringly, “Just remember what we talked about. Focus and use all the skills you've learned on the simulator."

Raven was nervous but she took her dad’s words to heart and walked out with him to the race track. When she saw all the other racers revving their engines and preparing to race, she felt a rush of adrenaline.

She strapped herself into the kart and waited for the green light. When it came on, she floored the pedal and blasted around the track. She stayed focused and used everything she learnt from her father.

Raven was an astonishingly natural driver. She picked up on techniques that eluded some other racers, navigating tight corners and difficult sections of the track with ease. She was fast and determined and seemed to be enjoying every second of the race. Max was extremely impressed by his daughter’s ability.

When the race was over, Raven was breathless but happy. She had come in first place by a margin of several seconds.

“You were amazing!” Max said as he lifted his daughter out of the go kart.

“Thanks dad!” Raven replied happily as she threw her arms around her father's neck and squeezed him tightly.

“I can’t wait to tell momma,” Raven said.

"You're gonna have to wait till we get home then my dear," Max said with a smile, as he ruffled Raven's hair. "But I'm sure she's gonna be really proud of you. Just like me.

Raven looked up at her father with a beaming smile. "I love you daddy," she said.

"I love you too, sweetheart," Max replied, kissing her on the forehead.

Raven and her father headed home, both of them full of energy and adrenaline rush from the race. When they arrived at their house, the daughter ran straight to her mother, unable to contain her excitement.

"Momma!" She yelled, bursting through the front entrance, and ran to her mom. "Guess what!" Raven exclaimed, breathless from the excitement.

“What?” You asked the exited seven year old with a smile.

"I just won the karting race! By a LOT of seconds!" Raven beamed proudly in her parents' direction as she remembered the moments of her victory.

"That's great, honey!" You replied excitedly, trying to contain her bubbling enthusiasm. "I knew you could do it. You got your father's talent for racing after all."

"Aww, thank you mom!" Raven replied. "I just used everything daddy taught me. Maybe I could be in Formula 1 like him someday."

"You certainly have the potential, honey," you replied with pride. "With your father's expertise and my support, you could have a bright future in racing. Let's not get ahead of ourselves though. For now, enjoy the joy of your victory."

“Come on Raven i k know exactly where you should place your trophy” Max says picking up the trophy and holding out his hand for Raven to take which she does.

Max and Raven walked into Max’s trophy room and placed Ravens first trophy next two his first WDC trophy.

Raven beamed at being able to place her racing trophy, her first win, among her dad's collection of racing memorabilia. Max smiled proudly as he looked at the display of trophies. The father-daughter duo shared a moment of joy and pride as they reminisced about the moment of her victory together.

Max looked at Raven lovingly. "How does it feel to have won your first race?" he asked her.

"Incredible!" Raven exclaimed excitedly, beaming with joy at her achievement. "I can't believe I won."

"I can, you've got racing in your blood. Just like your old man and your grandfather." Max said lovingly, ruffling her hair.

"Hehehe, you're right, daddy." Raven laughed, looking up at her father. "I guess I was born to be a racer. Maybe I'll even become a Formula 1 racer like you one day."

"Maybe," Max replied with a grin. "But for now, let's just focus on your karting before we start talking about Formula 1. Who knows, if you keep winning races, you may just make it all the way to the highest level of motorsport.

"I'm gonna work really hard to make it happen!" Raven replied excitedly, her eyes blazing with determination. "I want to be just like you, daddy. I want to make you proud."

"You already make me proud, sweetheart," Max replied with a smile. "I'm already proud of you. Just keep working hard to hone your racing skills and never stop believing in yourself. You'll go a long way."

"I will! I promise, daddy!" Raven replied with sincerity, giving him a big hug. "I'll work as hard as I can to make you and mama proud."

Max returned the hug, feeling his daughter's love and appreciation. He knew she wanted to follow in his footsteps and make her parents proud.

"And you promise to follow your training schedule, right?" Max asked playfully, ruffling her hair.

"Promise!" Raven replied earnestly. "I'll make sure I complete all my training sessions, including sim racing. I want to be as good as you are and I'll work hard to get there."

"That's my girl," Max replied with a proud smile, kissing her on the cheek. "You've got the talent, now you just need determination and hard work. So keep it up. And remember to enjoy the journey, too."

"I will," Raven replied happily, smiling widely at her father's words of encouragement. She knew she had her parents' support and was confident that she could achieve her dreams. She was excited to continue working hard and honing her skills, preparing for her next race and setting even more ambitious goals for herself.

[zriasstuff]

Final blow- Mattheo Riddle x reader

Mattheo Riddle oneshot; including a classic wizarding duel, tension filled atmosphere, and a cute ending <3 (SFW)

“For our next duel, I’m asking Mattheo Riddle and Miss Y/n to please step up onto the platform”

The words from professor Snape echoed through the duelling practice room, and as of right now everyone was staring at you two. It didn’t come as a shock to you when you were picked. Both of you were pretty much on the same level, with the exception of course that you had way less of an ego than Mattheo.

Defense against the dark arts was your favorite subject, especially when it came to doing hands on things. Duelling just happened to be one of your favorite things to practice. The tougher the opponent, the sweeter the victory, you believed. With Mattheo, you had to make sure that you would fight till the last moment, and to not go down without a proper fight.

“C’mon, go up!”, your friends encourage you, “You got this!”. They all believed in you, and told you that your chances were good, making you feel more secure in your skills. Through all the encouragement you got, you start moving towards where the showdown would take place.

As you go up, you look at Mattheo, who seemed confident to say the least. He knows he’s good and everyone else knows it too. Moreover, all the quidditch training certainly gave him a strong and muscular body to work with.

Before the duel begins, you scan the crowd one more time for looks and chants of support. “MAKE US RAVENCLAWS PROUD!”, you hear someone yelling amidst all the people. That you were extremely thankful for, since you could really use all the positive reassurance you could get. You quickly say thank you back to the crowd.

At the same time, the Slytherins must’ve seen this as another competition and started yelling all sorts of things in support of their representative too. Together, they sure looked like a mean bunch.

“YOU GOT THIS MATTHEO!”, his friend Blaise hollers loudly. Draco, right after, shouts out “YEAHH, DESTROY HER!”.

What a gentleman you mutter to yourself, and Mattheo must’ve heard it because you hear a slight chuckle escaping his mouth.

“Nervous”, he quietly asks you.

“Not at all”, you respond in the most self assured manner that you can muster.

He himself didn’t look nervous at all, but rather excited to have a “play partner”. Frankly you weren’t either, but you also knew that going up against him wouldn’t be easy.

Mattheo keeps looking you in the eye with a slight grin, so to match his energy, you hold eye contact with him too and make sure that your posture is straight. If you don’t look capable from the beginning, you are never going to make it to the end.

To commence this duel at last, Snape retells the rules of combat and announces that “only magical acts can be used as a form of offense or defense. You may disarm or harm your opponent, but must not seriously injure them.” Otherwise Madam Pomfrey would surely throw another fit at you “immature rascals”.

You were counting on disarming Mattheo to be your tactic. His fatal flaw was, noting from your past observations, being too aggressive, and not fully protecting himself. Besides that, he was flawless.

All eyes on you guys now, you start off by bowing to each other to pay your respects. “Good luck”, he whispers to you while you’re on eye level. “Same to you”, you reply, to make him know that you weren’t scared.

As Snape was counting down from three, you calmed yourself down once again, telling yourself that it would be fine. When Snape reaches the final number three, Mattheo immediately goes into the offense and casts several stunning spells, which you block with your shielding spell. You had practiced that one so often, that you could confidently utilize it at any given time. Mattheo keeps trying to push you back further. One after another, his attacking spells are blasted at you. And one after another you block them. It was a back and forth dance between you two, neither one of you budging yet.

He came alarmingly close though. One of his spells had caught your shoulder, sending an electrifying shock through your body. Another one had hit your torso straight like a bullet. That one had caused you the most pain. You grunted and held your hand over the wounded area, but it was still bearable. You just had to fight through the pain.

Both of you kept going, at this point recognizing that victory wouldn’t come easily to either one of you. Mattheo, looking forward to making things a little more playful, cheekily calls out “holding up pretty well for someone like you”. You knew he was trying to get you off of your game by sounding condescending. He was well aware of your capabilities. Therefore you clap back by saying “that shouldn’t come as a surprise, and you’re not as good as you think you are”.

Having said that, you hear a few murmurs amongst the students. Snape takes the time to remind you to keep the personal bashing to yourselfs until the duel is resolved. Mattheo seems to take it quite personally though, now casting out especially aggressive spells.

Even by then you are able to hold up, but there was still no opportunity to really harm him. The back and forth kept going to the point where neither of you saw an end to this.

After a while, having been so concentrated on defending yourself and managing your pain, you hadn’t even looked at Mattheo anymore to see how he was doing. You just saw his spells shooting at you. So, when you finally did look, you noticed that Mattheo was getting a little riled up himself and losing his edge. He always tries to keep his cool, to not show any signs of weakness. Yet, there you were, taking hit after hit, and not backing down. It made him frustrated to see his efforts not meeting his expectations.

After more exchanges of non sufficient spells, you are getting way too tired, and you decide it’s time to put this exhausting duel to an end. You just had to wait for the perfect moment.

In Mattheo’s mind, he was also just waiting for the perfect moment, hoping for you to retreat.

When you glance at the audience again for just a second, you see the gawking mouths of some of the Slytherins. Instantly, it boosts your confidence. If even they were stunned by you, then all was going right, and you knew you got this. If you could really defeat Mattheo, his ego was probably going to be bruised for a good several days at least.

Between further dodging spells, and shielding yourself, it was really difficult to find the perfect moment, though you had a feeling it would come soon enough. Mattheo was getting even more frustrated. His spells weren’t as accurate anymore. His arm was losing strength and going a little limp. And most important of all, his confidence became tainted.

While trying to catch his breath for a second, Mattheo simultaneously lowers his arm. During that one scarce moment, you decide to deliver the final blow.

“EXPELLIARMUS!”, you call out. Everyone’s eyes were wide open, seeing exactly as the spell hit Mattheo, causing his wand to fly across the platform, all the way into your hand. You catch it with precision, and watch his look of disbelief. You couldn’t even fully believe it yourself. He was done for.

“Wanna wave the white flag now?”, you cheekily ask him now, as he’s still trying to catch his breath. It was a little mean, but he could handle it.

Mattheo still can’t believe what just happened based on the look on his face. You see him scrunching his eyebrows, and mouth hanging wide open.

Although he knows he’s got nothing left, he still replies with “never”.

“As you wish”, you say with a wide grin, because in the next second, your final spell sent him flying across the room. Mattheo falls off of the duelling platform at the end, all the way onto the ground.

As his body hit the hard floor, all students from every house, except the Slytherins of course, started cheering for you. You felt as if you were on cloud nine hearing all their chants. Your heart was still beating rapidly, as if it was going to explode any second. A little part of you can’t believe that you just sent Mattheo flying across the platform, but the bigger part was gloating with pride.

You watch Mattheo prop himself up and walk back onto the platform to go up to you. He warmly, to your surprise, meets your gaze and brings out his hand to shake yours.

“Looks like you didn’t need luck after all”, he congratulates you. You’re taken aback for a second because this behavior of him wasn’t what you expected at all. He clearly notices and goes on to say “I rarely lose, but when I do I try not to be a sore loser”.

When he goes to his friends, he turns back and winks at you with a smirk plastered on his face. Winning was already quite the event, but Mattheo being a perfect gentleman weirdly made your insides churn.

…

You wait for everyone to leave the room after enough duelling was done for the morning. The reason was because you saw, from the corner of your eye, that Mattheo was also taking his time. You didn’t even know exactly why you were waiting for him.

Not that it was your planned intention, but you decide to go up to him and tell him that it was a great, although stressful, duel. Perhaps that would fuel some kind of conversation.

“No need to gloat”, he throws back at you. He didn’t sound all too happy, and maybe he did take the loss stronger than he showed at first. Your mind starts to spin and look for kind words. You definitely didn’t mean to insult him, so you quickly stutter out

“No- that’s not what I-”

Before you could finish that jumbled sentence though, he chuckles out loud, his eyes giving you a look of sympathy. His entire demeanor has changed now, the upset look from before just having been a facade.

“Chill, I was just kidding”, he cheerfully says. Seconds later he adds “You won fair and square, I’m actually really impressed with you”. It sounded like he meant it genuinely.

That compliment wasn’t something you expected. Relieved at his relaxed attitude, you choose to go along with his joking manner and respond with “I’m definitely going to hold that over your head forever”.

That earned you yet another precious chuckle from him. His laugh was truly contagious because shortly after you start laughing too. You had actually never expected that talking with Mattheo could feel so carefree and fun.

“Y’know I actually thought you were a lot more arrogant”, you honestly admitted to him during your talk. As far as the truth went, this was it. You could see that it had certainly been a little presumptuous of you to assume that about him.

“Well that’s because you don’t really know me and make pointless assumptions, but I don’t blame you”, he boldly calls you out on your prejudices too.

Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as you imagined, but definitely still cocky.

Suddenly he puts his hand on your shoulder, which makes you jerk back at first. The sudden contact just came as a surprise. He also takes notice, but when he sees that you don’t mind after the initial shock, he just kept it there. “So, wanna get out of here?”, he suggested. “We could talk and you could get to know me better”, Mattheo proposes, obviously referring to your previous statement.

“Well, how can I say no to that”, you comply while flashing him a gentle smile.

And with that, both of you leave the room, with Mattheo’s hand still wrapped around your shoulders.

[circe69]

Could I please request 21.) zipping up a dress for you - "what, is the zipper stuck or something?" "no, 'm just looking." With Ghost? Like I can just imagine the tension if they weren’t together yet and they were still just in a ‘will they won’t they’ situation omg 😭💕 thank you!

absolutely anon! thanks for participating in my special :)

["what, is the zipper stuck or something?" "no, 'm just looking."]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟐𝟏 - 𝐳𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - ❤︎

This was the worst-case scenario that you could possibly think of. Tonight, the Task Force was holding a banquet as a means of celebrating their recent victory, rescuing Kate Laswell back from being kidnapped. They were holding an auction, all the proceeds were to fund communities around them, specifically to help with missing kids.

The dress you were wearing, or, supposed to wear, was a little less than comfortable. A slim-fitting maroon gown that's zipper was stuck on it's on teeth, and it wasn't even halfway up your back yet.

You sighed as you stared at your backside in the mirror, most of it being completely exposed, showing off some freckles and birthmarks you completely forgot you had, and also some rather ugly scars and scratches from years past.

Thinking about who you could call, everyone was in meetings or preparing for the event themselves, all except for one person.

Ghost.

You rolled your eyes at the thought. He was an amazing solider, the best of the best, obviously, but when it came to making friends or being nice at all, he didn't know what he was doing.

It is different, and you can see that. Making conversation and willingly being kind whilst doing so wasn't the same as aiming a pistol and shooting it, but surely, he had other traits that allowed the former?

You were about to find out.

Picking up your phone in your slightly sweaty and clammy hands, you realized how stressed you really were. You dialed his number, his contact's name not even attached to it because you never bothered.

"Hello?" A deep voice spoke from the other side of the phone.

You inhaled sharply, and he immediately recognized who it was.

"Oh great, it's you," he spoke, and you could tell his mouth was stretched into a sly smile.

"Yes, it's me, I need help."

You heard Ghost shuffle around quickly, maybe even a knife being thrown out of its pocket, "What's wrong?"

Walking over to unlock the front door to hopefully let him in later, you balanced your phone between your bare shoulder and cheek, "No, nothing- nothing's seriously wrong, my dress just won't zip up and everyone else is busy."

Silence. You and Ghost marinated in it for a few seconds, and you swear you heard his tongue click against his teeth, something he only did when he was excited.

You heard him stand from his chair over the phone, "So I was the last resort? That's kinda mean, don't ya think?"

He was having a ball with this, but you on the other hand, your back was chilly and both of you had to be somewhere in less than an hour, so you wanted this show to get on the road.

"Just hurry up and GET. IN. HERE." Your words became decreased to nothing but a whispered shout at the end of your sentence, signaling how serious you were.

"Sheesh, woman, I'll be right the-"

You hung up before he could finish his sentence, and did one last look in the mirror to make sure nothing too scandalous was showing. It wasn't even 5 minutes that passed when there was a knock on your door.

"Come in," you yelled from your place in the bedroom. You heard the door creak open, "I'm in my room."

The sound of loafers clicking on your floor filled the hallway and echoing off the walls, right into your ears. You paused for a moment, realizing if Ghost was attending this event, he'd be dressed up too. That was something you weren't prepared to see.

He walked in, one hand in his pocket and the other fixing his simple black mask. No skull, no dirt, no face paint, no blood splattered. It was somehow classy. Ghost wore a regular black tux, a black tie tucked into his blazer, and a pristine white shirt peeking out from underneath it all.

It was safe to say the both of you were impressed with each other's outfits. His eyes skimmed over you, stopping right when he got to your hips. The red dress hugged them perfectly, dropping down into a regular A-line below. The train dragged on the ground, a few sparkles gently appearing at the edge.

"Wow."

You smiled at his loss for words. "Wow yourself, you look great. Now please, zip this thing up." You turned around, your bare back now facing Ghost, and his breath faltered at the sight. He took a few steps towards you without saying anything.

He was so close, you could feel his breath on your neck, it was deep and heavy, the way he was breathing. Like he was nervous, or excited, or maybe both. His hands were hesitant, but you slightly flinched as his fingers softly traced the slope of your back, slowly moving up and down. It was so soft, you weren't sure if he was even touching you at times, but instead just basking in the heat you were radiating.

"Is it really stuck? I might just have to ditch it if it's not working," you said, not sure if you were talking to yourself or him anymore.

"No, I'm - 'm just looking."

Your jaw slightly unhinged at his blatant confession. Just looking?

Finally, his fingers dipped lower to reach the zipper, and you shivered at the feeling.

"Hm. You ticklish?" He said as he slowly pulled up the zipper, leaving a finger in front so he could trace the entirety of your spine one last time.

"No," you said breathily. He didn't need to know how dizzy his touch was making you.

"Not really in any hurry, are we now?" His voice was dangerously low, seductively teasing you, and you loved it.

You shivered once more when his fingers reached the top of your back, drawing a small circle with his pointer finger on your skin.

"You have a birthmark there."

Humming in response, you turned around to face him. "Yes."

"You had a few more, but I was scared if I touched them, you'd freak out."

He started to walk out, looking both ways out the dark hallway as if he was crossing a street.

"I wouldn't freak out." You blurted, making him stop in his tracks, "You don't have to worry about that."

He nodded and said over his shoulder, "Noted."

[monzabee]

hot girls support 44 – lh44

masterlist

Summary: The one where your husband realises that you are, indeed, his number one fan.

Pairing: lewis hamiton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: cursing? (i’m not even sure), and a whole lot of fluff

Request: “Hi can you do we’re Lewis Hamilton wife is with him to see one of his races but she leaves the garage for some reason and over hears someone talking bad about her husband and she snaps and tells them straight and Lewis is watching her from a distance like damn that’s my wife”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i don’t know if this classifies as a drabble but let’s just pretend it does because i realised that i can’t write anything under 1k? this was a very fun request to work on, so thank you to anon, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Both you and Lewis are private people when it came to your relationship. It has always been that way, with him leading a lifestyle in front of the cameras, and you preferring to stay away from those said cameras as much as you can. Over time, you both developed a rhythm, a delicate balance between Lewis's public persona and your desire for privacy. It was an unspoken agreement, an understanding that you valued above all else.. You knew how much Lewis's racing career meant to him, and you admired his ability to excel under the constant scrutiny. And in return, Lewis respected your wish for a quieter, more intimate life together. It was this mutual respect that solidified the foundation of your relationship, allowing it to thrive despite the challenges that fame and attention often brought.

That is not to say that you guys were completely private, of course. You’ve had your fair share of events the two of you attended as a couple, as well as races, but Lewis is always mindful of the fact that you don’t want cameras in your faces. In the early days of your relationship, the media had tried to capture glimpses of your relationship, eager to uncover every detail and learn more about the woman who finally made him give up his bachelor status. However, Lewis, being the fiercely protective partner that he was, had firmly set boundaries to shield your personal life from the prying eyes of the world. He cherished the sanctity of your bond and understood the importance of keeping certain moments sacred and away from the public eye.

The two of you have a special routine for the race days where you decide to join him on the track – you mainly spend your time inside the Mercedes garage, instead of lingering around where the cameras are most likely to be. However, you make sure to leave the garage for celebrations for those races where Lewis is up on the podium, celebrating him with the people who support him every step along the way whom he appreciates immensely; while the podium celebrations were reserved for the public eye, the garage held its own intimate victories. It was here that you celebrated the milestones and shared the unspoken triumphs, basking in the knowledge that your presence was an unwavering pillar of support for Lewis. But for the most part, you’re happy with your routine – it’s safe, familiar and it has worked for a very long time. So you don’t really know why you decided to take Roscoe on an impromptu tour of the paddock, especially when he gives you that look which clearly says that he would rather be taking his afternoon nap.

It's a good day despite the chaos everyone on the paddock seems to be in, but then again, there’s only a few hours until the qualifying session. So, in hopes of avoiding the human traffic, you decide to take Roscoe to a more secluded area in the back. As you walk, Roscoe happily wagging his tail by your side, you take in the sights and sounds of the paddock. The familiar smell of rubber and gasoline fills the air, mingling with the excited murmurs of fans and the distant roar of engines. It's a world you've come to know and appreciate, even if from a slightly different perspective. Lost in your thoughts, you suddenly hear voices growing louder as you approach a group of people gathered in conversation. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you slow your pace, intending to discreetly eavesdrop before continuing on your way. But as you get closer, you realize the topic of their conversation hits closer to home than you expected.

In hindsight, you know better to get involved in situations which might cause you to bother yourself with rude, petty people, but when it concerns your husband and everything that he has worked hard his entire life for, you don’t even hesitate. With the fierce protectiveness you feel inside, you clear your throat to get the attention of the engineers, “Excuse me,” you say as you give them a (fake) smile, “could you repeat that again, please?”

The group falls silent, their faces registering surprise and perhaps a touch of embarrassment. They exchange glances, seemingly unsure of how to respond to your unexpected intrusion. “We just meant that–” The man is quickly silenced by one of his friends elbowing him in the side.

You ignore the silent ow that comes from the man’s mouth and give the trio a stare down. “Well, I guess everybody is entitled to their opinions.” Your sweet smile and dulcet tone is enough to think them that everything is fine, but you’re quick to continue voicing your thoughts, “But that doesn’t give you the right to undermine a man’s hard work, especially when he has broken record after record and don’t even get me started on the fact that not only he is a pioneer in this sport, he is also a role model and inspiration to many and has impact beyond the track.” You let a frustrated hum, “Also, have some respect, the guy is an eight-time world champion.”

The guy who spoke before looks confused as he attempts to point out, “He won it seven–”

“Do you want me to let Roscoe attack you?” You ask as you point to the puppy sitting next to you, who, in hearing his name, looks up at you; all panting and happily sticking his tongue out.

Little do you know, Lewis had been watching the entire scene unfold from a distance, a mix of admiration and adoration in his eyes. He waits until the engineers leave in a hurry, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed on his chest. A smile tugs at the corners of Lewis's lips as he watches you handle the situation with such grace and confidence. As you turn around, ready to head back to the safety of the Mercedes garage, your eyes meet his, and a surge of warmth fills your heart. Walking towards you, Lewis closes the distance between you, his steps purposeful and full of pride. His arms quickly find their place on your waist as he mumbles, “Damn, that’s my wife.”

You roll your eyes at his antics, your face quickly mirroring the smile he gives to you. “Didn’t you see the sign? Apparently, ‘hot girls support 44’.”

“Is that so?” He hums, letting his hands wonder towards the back pockets of your jeans as he continuously presses kisses along your jaw, “It’s definitely right.”

As Lewis's lips trail along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine, you playfully swat at his chest. "Behave, Mr. World Champion. We're in a public place," you whisper, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling up inside you.

Lewis chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with love and mischief. "Can't help it, love. Seeing you stand up for me like that, it's a turn-on," he teases, his voice laced with admiration. "But you're right, let's save the public displays of affection for later."

With a shared understanding and a silent promise, you and Lewis turn, making your way back to the familiar comfort of the Mercedes garage. In each other's presence, you find solace and strength, ready to face whatever lies ahead. And as Roscoe happily trots beside you, you can't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary life you share with the man who has captured your heart, both on and off the track.

[wcbblife]

could you do paige with either a black gf or a volleyball player gf hcs??

Paige x Volleyball player!gf HCs

a/n: I've had this idea in the drafts for quite a bit of time. So glad you sparked my mind to finally finish it

Bit of background about you two ig:

What first stood out to Paige about you was the ability to absolutely spike the ball with an insane amount of power. The first time she saw you play she was with KK because they were both oh so bored on their free day. Next thing she knew you were elevating off the floor and slamming your palm against the ball with an insane amount of strength. They both let out a synched “DAMN” as the ball quickly made its way down to the floor with a resounding bang. One after the other, she was literally left with her jaw on the floor at how good you were and how you were able to carry the team to a flawless victory.

She definitely went home and searched all of your highlights, slowly being more and more captivated by how high you could jump and how fast you could react to get some saves. After that, she would literally make up the stupidest excuses to just see you absolutely dominate on the court.

Noticing her growing attendance, fans began to joke around on the internet (with pics and vids). You take notice of this. Especially on how she cheered extra hard whenever you helped on scoring a point.

Funny enough I think you two would meet in the library. She would pass you and the look on her face is hilarious (something between a mix of amazement, shock, and something else). She tries to stop the absolute sound of excitement that she wants to let out.

"Dude, you’re an awesome player.” She says, smiling super bright.

"Well if it isn’t my biggest fan” You tease. “But are you serious? You’re the cool one here.”

You both continue to absolutely geek out about one another and compliment the other's play style. It’s then that you find out that she absolutely loves when you spike.

You both get closer after one particular game where your famous strong spikes literally sealed the deal for the team to win. After a particularly impressive spike she literally jumped while screaming as loud as she could and you couldn't even deny that trying to ignore a tall blonde jumping erratically up and down was getting harder after each game. So you just turned towards her and pointed to mess with her. It worked though cuz Paige went absolutely crazy.

After that, you two started talking some more and you even started showing your face to some of her basketball games. And she asked you out after one of her hard games, caught up in the high of the game. You two immediately become the school's hottest topic after it.

Some actually normal HCs:

She absolutely is your biggest fan. No one ever cheers louder for you than Paige Bueckers.

Is eager to learn how to set for you so that she can help you with your spikes. Like seeing it first hand because it makes her feel so starstruck seeing it first hand.

Absolutely loves to play beach volleyball with you. Idk why she just seems like it.

Lovesssss to see you in your uniform. Especially with those shorts. Makes her go crazy.

Goes nuts when you react fast and save the ball. "YEAH BABY! YOU SHOW EM HOW ITS DONE!"

Will 100% challenge you to a 1v1 but immediately regret it as she watches you jump to slam the ball. “Chill! You're gonna kill me if you do that.”

She loves to learn and break down each set with you. Especially if you tell her it helps you better your game. And vise versa. You love to watch her games and hear her break down her own playing.

Outside of sports and school, Paige will literally show you off to everyone (like imagine a family Christmas party and she's literally holding someone hostage while showing them you play. “Isn't she awesome? I mean just look at her!").

Acts like a concerned mother whenever you fall one too many times in a game while diving to save the ball from touching the ground.

Loves it when you wink or smile in her direction while you're playing. It actually drives her a little crazy.

[halucynator]

Hi! Could I please request a FIC abt Mattheo or Theodore (I’m in love with them both) and the reader always picks her hangnails (to fidget bc she is on the spectrum and has adhd) and they get her to stop by alway holding her hands and she goes to his quidditch game? (I love your fics sm)

Good luck charm

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x fem!reader

Warnings: like none? do tell if I missed any xx

Summary: (just like read the request I cba)

A/n: thanks for the request and thank you SO much for the compliment💞! Sorry for the wait xx I wrote it about mattheo because I'm in my mattheo era (plus I feel like theo wouldn't be the sporty type) but I will write a Theodore version as well if you're okay with waiting xx I also happen to have ADHD lol so I just related the story to myself. English isn't my first language so there might be mistakes xx not proof read. I don't love it but I don't hate it either xx hope you like it x

reblogs are appreciated xx

You sat down in Snape's potion class after you got scolded for being 5 minutes late. His classes were SO boring. Your ADHD didn't help either. You grabbed your quill and started to doodle but were shortly stopped by Snape shouting at you for the second time in a 15 minute span.

You rolled your eyes and looked for something to fiddle with. I mean, how could it be your fault that you had ADHD? Was it really that wrong that you needed to fiddle with something to concentrate? Snape definitely made it seem like a sin.

You noticed a hangnail on your finger and started to pick on that. Snape could take that away from you. I mean, was he going to cut off your fingers? As you pulled on the hangnail, you felt a little sting and you knew if your bare flesh made contact with even a drop of water, it would burn. This wasn't avoidable either especially since you were in potions. But you could worry about that later. As long as you could concentrate.

"You need to stop doing that. It looks painful. Plus it isn't healthy." Mattheo comments as be places his hand on yours. It's a comforting feeling but you feel uneasy, looking for something else to fiddle with.

"but I can't! I have ADHD."

"There's got to be better ways to cope."

"there's nothing else to fiddle with"

"Here." He slips one of his rings off his fingers and hands it to you.

"are you sure" you ask.

"yes love." He replies.

And so you fiddle with his silver ring the rest of the lesson but find it hard to with him holding one of your hand captive. You wanted to ask to move it, but you didn't want him to feel upset plus you kinda liked the feeling of his warm hand on your freezing cold one.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

You were excited for the quidditch match, Slytherin against Gryffindor. You walked up to Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, your group of friends, as you spotted then among the crowd which was dripping with anticipation.

As the game started, you found yourself searching for a particular brown, curly haired boy.

As you spotted him, aiming to score, you felt yourself blushing. As he scored half of the crowd cheered in excitement, and the other half groaned in frustration. As you locked eyes with the brunette boy, you caught hun winning at you which made you turn even more red than you already were if that was possible.

The game ended with Slytherin being victorious (which was a first).

After the game you walked up to Mattheo to congratulate him.

"I've never been to a quidditch match before but I heard this was Slytherin's first victory against Gryffindor."

"Guess you are a good luck charm." He smiled at you.

You blushed. Something about that comment felt genuine, like it was more than just a joke.

"Ah, is that so? You were amazing out there by the way."

"Only for you princess." He winked at you. "I assumed you were awestruck by me. I caught you staring." he grinned.

You blushed as you started to fiddle with your hangnail again. You felt a comforting hand on yours. Mattheo's hand.

"Now now love. We talked about this. Use my rings instead."

You felt nice that Mattheo cared about you. You smiled at him, trying to keep your composure. You felt like kissing him right there and then but you didn't.

Your friends walked up to Mattheo and congratulated him for the win, snapping you out of your daydream about the brunette boy who, at this very moment, was holding your hand.

"You could say we had a good luck charm." He winked at you.

You chuckled at the statement. Girlfriend had a better ring to it, but for now you settled for 'A good luck charm.'

[thesunisatangerine]

prometeme (promise me)

alexia putellas x streamer!reader

warning/s: nothing, just fluff

a/n in the tags

*first emoji set: grinning face with big eyes and a thumbs up

*second emoji: a thumbs up

You put the controller down, hands shaking, letting out a victorious sigh of relief. 

“Woah, that boss was something else. Jeez, I’m literally shaking, guys. I can’t believe I survived that last hit!” You chuckled, still a little breathless from the adrenaline pumping through you as you looked at the camera. “We nearly died but we pulled through! I’m just going to take a small break ‘cause that was intense!”

You stretched your arms before you grabbed your tumbler of water next to you, allowing your eyes to flit over the windows on your three monitors, ensuring that everything functioned properly for the stream. 

Then as you sipped your water, you spied a rather big influx of comments on one of your chats from the corner of your eyes. It was your Instagram chat that seemed to be in danger of exploding–that fact in and of itself was weird because most of your audience were on Twitch and YouTube. So you frowned, squinting your eyes slightly to see what was happening.

‘why is alexia putellas here?’

‘So…. are we not going to talk about how Alexia Putellas is watching this?’

‘omgggg HI ALEXIAAaA!!!’

‘wait alexia who??’

‘ALEXIA?!!1?!?’

‘FORÇA BARÇA!!!!!!!!’

‘yoooo alexia is here?!?’

‘yall who tf is this alexia???’

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your sockets and you just as nearly spat out the water in your mouth. And sure enough when you scrolled up as subtly as you could, there it was: alexiaputellas joined. What the fuck is she doing?! And as if it wasn’t already bad enough, you saw her comment. 

alexiaputellas: nice 😃👍*

That did nothing but add fuel to the fire because more comments started flooding in, most of them freaked out and confused.

‘guys she just commented!!!!’

‘eyooo look at your chat alexia wants to talk to you!!1!’

‘do you two know each other??’

‘HI ALEXIA!!

‘can somne pls tell me who alexia issss’

‘alexia aren’t you supposed to be training why are you here lol

‘this is so random wtffff’

‘ikr i didnt even know she likes stuff likes this’

And then you spotted the question you dreaded to see: 

‘wait, are you guys dating??!!?!?’ 

Oh, you were so going to kill her for this. But first, you needed to find a way to calm this situation down without arousing further suspicion because if you ignored it, it would definitely just come back to bite the both of you. 

Most of your followers knew that you liked football. You’d mentioned on a number of occasions that Alexia was one of your favorite players so you knew you couldn’t act too dumb but you couldn’t act too familiar, either. You needed to act just excited enough to know that one of your favorite footballers was watching you but not overtly so that it would look unconvincing. Yet still, that wouldn’t answer the question of why Alexia Putellas would be watching a videogame livestream especially when said livestreamer wasn’t someone she followed. Not to mention that the time at where Alexia was supposed to be was–you looked at the clock widget on your monitor that displayed your time and Spain’s–was currently 3 am!

Alexia, you little shit.

Thankfully, you caught sight of a comment on your Twitch chat that gave you a good segue to start addressing this.

“‘Hey, look at your Insta chat,’” you read out before adding, “why? What are you guys up to on there?”

You made a show of moving your mouse. 

“Woah! Okay, why are y’all freaking out?” You squinted your eyes slightly, trying to seem like you were trying to figure out what was happening. Immediately, you were bombarded with responses telling you that Alexia was there.

“‘Alexia Putellas is watching’. Ha, very funny. There’s no way, y’all are just playing me.”

Then another good response popped up for what you said and you read it out loud. “‘She commented something.’ Where?”

You scrolled your mouse profusely, furrowing your brows for effect. Once you found it, you held your breath, widened your eyes slightly and covered your mouth with your hand.

“Holy sh–no, there’s no way… Uh–I don’t know what to–Hi, Alexia! And, thank you?” You put your face in your hands as you let out an embarrassed sound–half-real and partly an act. It wasn’t difficult to imitate a fan when you were one yourself and just because you were dating Alexia that didn’t stop you from fanning over her when she’s on the pitch. 

The chat seemed to calm down and you were thankful that that little play worked. 

Then you added, addressing the chat but you hoped that Alexia would get the clue to not do anything else or better, to leave the live. “This is so weird! I don’t know why she’s on here but Alexia, I hope you enjoy the show!”

To your mortification, Alexia replied in the chat again.

alexiaputellas: don’t worry, i will 👍*

Groaning internally, you watched as the chat exploded again. What did you expect really? You had to admit you played yourself there, you should had known that Alexia would do that. You tried to do damage control but at this point, you just hoped that your followers wouldn’t look into this too much. You made a mental note to talk to Alexia about her not joining any of your streams with her official account. 

“Okay, so I guess we should get this show back on the road, huh?” With that, you picked up the controller and started again. You had about an hour of streaming left and you started counting down the seconds. You only hoped Alexia wouldn’t try anything again.

———

“Thank you to everyone who tuned in tonight! I enjoyed it very much and I hope you did, too! Have a good night–or a good day depending on what time you’re watching this–and I’ll see you guys again in the next stream!”

You waved and directed one last smile at the camera before you disconnected the stream from all your platforms. Then you spent some time tidying up some loose ends before finally shutting everything down. You stretched as you got out of the chair, opened the door of your stream room, and made your way to the living room.

“Did you have fun?” You asked drily, throwing Alexia a dirty look as you crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe of the living room. Alexia laid comfortably down on the couch, a matching pair of grey sweats and shirt on, feet propped up on one end and one arm under her head on the other. She placed her phone down on the coffee table when she heard your voice, looking at you with an innocent look though the cheeky quirk at the corner of her lips said anything but.

“Well, since you asked, I did.” She added, grinning, “you looked so cute flustered like that.”

“You’re unbelievable!” You grumbled as you threw your hands up in exasperation but there was no sting to it. And what did you get in response? The sound of cheerful laughter. It was contagious and the mask on your face cracked, making way for a smile that left your cheeks hurting from how wide it was.

You walked towards the couch and Alexia scooched over, making space for you as she held her hand out the moment you got close enough. 

“Come here. I missed you.” Alexia said in a soft voice, her hazel eyes just as gentle in the low light. She pulled you down so you’d lay against her side, your head on her chest and you sighed contentedly, immediately melting in her tender warmth, her arms strong and steady wrapped around your waist. 

“It’s ony been three hours.”

“That was three hours worth of not having you next to me.” She kissed the top of your head as she muttered the words and you felt your chest ache as if your heart wanted to burst out to reach for hers. Being this close to her, it was the best place in the world. 

You hummed in response, nuzzling your nose against the column of her neck and breathed her in. “You’re such a sweet-talker.”

“Not if it’s true, my love.” Alexia countered without a second thought. Your cheeks and ears warmed and you hid your face in the crook of her neck.

“Alexia, stop!” 

You felt the vibration of her laughter against your cheek. “What? I’m not doing anything!”

“Yes, you are. You’re doing everything right that sometimes it scares me,” you admitted in a whisper. Alexia brought a hand over your cheek and brushed the skin there with her thumb in a soothing manner.

“Who’s the sweet-talker now?” Alexia said teasingly.

“God, you’re so annoying. I don’t know why I love you.”

At that, she laughed again. “You like it when I’m like this. And I love you, too.”

A moment of comfortable silence filled what little space between you. You listened to the steady rhythm of Alexia’s heartbeat beneath your ear as she played with your hair. 

Then you spoke, “just promise me one thing, darling?"

“What?” Alexia hummed.

“Warn me before you do that again.”

She turned to catch your gaze, brilliant mischief twinkled in those hazel eyes, her dimples showed as she said, “that I can’t do.”

“Alexia!”

[thequietkid-moonie]

S/O greeting them after their fight

[ SCENARIO ] [ Thor, Sasaki, Jack, Shiva, Buddha, Qin ]

[ Records of Ragnarok / Shuumatsu no Valkyrie ]

⚠️ This contain spoilers

I decided not write about about Zeus, sorry if someone wanted to read it

This take me longer that i expected! Wow! Anyway, enjoy!

Thor

He sees you waiting for him at the gods' entrance before being stoped by Lubu's army

After take care of it, he go and greet you pating you head with a sweet smile

He doesn't say much in his way to the infirmary while been followed by you, but you can tell there something diferent with him, he looks thoughtful

While his injuries were been treated he makes sure you stay by his side (the nurses don't dare ti say something about it)

After that he will tell how he would have liked to meet Lubu in other circumstances. Thor doesn't say much, but he keeps that soft expresion and smile, that human truly surprised him

After that you two stay together to see the rest of the fights, now seen the humans in a diferent way, with more respect

Sasaki Kyojiro

He was injured and bleeding, but he was smiling

After greeting you Sasaki practically fall in your arms, he doesn't have more energy, you and Hrist have to guide him to the to the infirmary to be treated

On your way he can't stop smiling and giggling, telling you how much fun he had in the fight

Both Hrist and you will congratulate him and scold him for worring you so much

After his wounds were treated you'll stay with him to make sure he rest, in the meantime he will tell you about his experience in the fight and how happy he is for his first victory

If you still worried about him and his injuries he will reassure you that he's fine, it doesn't hurt anymore.

After that you stay by his side, and with the others to see the rest of the fights. Sasaki offer you (and to Hrist too) to explain things you may not understand about the fighting techniques

When they go to help Buddha (when he meet the Gods of Fortune) he probably do it behind your back so you won't try to stop him he's too stubborn anyways

Jack the Ripper

He was injured, bleeding and people were throwing things at him and yet he walked calmly and elegantly. When he notice you in the humans' entrance he greet you with a soft smile.

In your way to the infirmary he didn't say much and he looks very thoughtful. If you offer your help he will try to denied but at the end he acepted

You wait until his wounds are treated to talk to him

When you ask him about the fight and how he feels he will tell you, but offer you some tea while both talk

This become a long talk about what happen and the colors he saw in Heracles

Its notorious that this affected him but in a good way, Jack himself expresed that he's happy to had the oportunity to met him

After his wounds were treated both of you ended up going where Hlokk she wasn't happy to see Jack but she don't force you to go away

Hlook offer you a sit and she start making a convesetion with you, that ended being she complaining about Jack, she even ask you why you are with him, to which Jack just laughed

Shiva

When he sees you at the gods' entrance he greeting you with a proud smile, as much as he would love to embrace you Shiva makes sure to keep distance (he was in fire a moment ago after all)

In his way to the infirmary he doesn't stop talking to you, asking you if you saw him fight and what did you think

While his wounds are treated you probably have to wait outsite the infirmary, but after you'll stay by his side, sitting in a comfy sofa beside him (along side with his other wifes)

Both of you will have a long chat about the fight, he had to wait long to finally fight and got excited, now he can't stop talking about it

And, for sure, Shiva will tell you how great fighter Raiden was and how he gave his best until the end

He even mentioned how he heared all your voices cheering him and that help him continue and, of course, will tease you for that

Buddha

When Buddha greet you he see how worried you was for him, he embrace you and give you a soft kiss in the forehead. On his way to the infirmary he keeps a soft smile.

His wounds were treated pretty quickly. If you were with him when he left the infirmary (with the excuse that he was bored) he just tell you to follow him, if you ask him where you're going he won't tell you. But if you weren't there he won't tell you, for sure you'll know where to find him

If you scold him for leaving the infirmary he will just laugh and tell you not to worry about it, he is fine!

He promise to take proper rest only if you stay with him, both of you ended up cuddling and eating candies

Buddha will talk about the fight just if ask, you can notice how this truly affect him, but in the end he is happy for Zerofuku (i mean he ended happy again). If you say something about how he changed to humans side he will laugh at it, to him is funny to remember it (especially the gods' reaction)

If you seem afected for this too he will reassure you that everything is fine don't worry your pretty head

Qin Shi Huang

He sees you for afar in the humans' entrance and smile at you brightly

He was helping Alvitr stand when Qin himself falls to the ground

Alvitr inmediatly start screaming for help and you run to their side, helping her carried Qin. Don't take much for the nurses to came and carry him to the infirmary while you help Alvitr

Since they were serious injured you have to wait outsite the infirmary while they are treated

Being that his condition is so delicate you will have to wait outside the infirmary. Brunhilde reassure you that he and Alvitr will be fine, thanks to the medicine of the Gods

Once he wake up one of the first things in his mind is you, he wants to see you. When you greet him Qin call you name with a big smile and a cheerful voice, he is acting as if he didn't just wake up after putting his life in risk, you'll have to make him stay still, remember him that he need to rest!

[writingforstraykids]

Always back to you - Chp.3🖤

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of OT8)

Word Count: 4332

Summary: Minho and you slowly find your way back together once he's released from the hospital. Minjun's birthday party brings you both closer than ever before ...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit

A/N: Thank you for all the love for the first part especially🤭 I'll have a very busy day tomorrow, so you'll get the next part today already instead🤭🖤

PART TWO | PART FOUR

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You immediately take up the responsibility of caring for Minjun, ensuring that Minho has no worries as he recovers. You bring Minjun to your home and transform it into a safe haven for the little boy who is confused and missing his dad.

You set up a schedule that balances fun activities and quiet time, keeping Minjun engaged and content. Mornings are spent in the garden, where you teach him how to plant seeds and water flowers, explaining the nature of growth and the care plants need to thrive—a subtle lesson you hope he translates into understanding his father’s situation.

Minjun enthusiastically takes to gardening, his curious nature soaking up every detail you offer. He frequently asks questions, his large eyes wide with wonder as he watches little bugs crawling around and you tell him more about them. “Does Daddy need water and sun to get better, too?” he asks one day, his innocence tugging at your heartstrings.

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. “Something like that, buddy. Your dad needs rest and a little bit of sunshine to regain his strength.”

During these days, Minjun often speaks of his father, his young mind trying to wrap around why his dad had to stay in the hospital. You assure him that his dad is getting stronger every day, and soon, they’ll be back to playing in the park and reading bedtime stories.

In the afternoons, you work on light educational activities like drawing and reading. Minjun loves to draw; his papers are filled with pictures of his garden and the plants and lots of drawings of him and his dad together, often with a big sun shining overhead. You send these drawings to Minho, who calls every evening to say goodnight, his voice always a mix of gratitude and wistfulness.

Each call becomes a little bridge, reconnecting the threads of the small family. Minho’s voice grows stronger each day, and his words begin to carry hope instead of just fatigue. He shares updates about his recovery, about the small victories of a full night’s sleep or a walk around the hospital ward without feeling dizzy.

One evening, as you and Minjun are setting up a board game in the living room, your phone buzzes. It’s Minho, and he’s calling a bit earlier than usual.

“Y/n, hey. I… I’m coming home tomorrow,” Minho’s voice is tentative, almost shy.

“That’s great news, Minho! Minjun will be so happy,” you respond, watching Minjun’s face light up at the mention of his dad.

“Can we… can I come over when I get back? I want to see Minjun, and I… I owe you a proper thank you,” Minho adds, his tone earnest.

“That's okay,” you assure him, feeling a complex knot of emotions at his return but happy for Minjun’s sake.

The next day is bright and sunny, and Minjun is practically vibrating with excitement. “Is Daddy coming now? Or now?” he asks every few minutes, peering out the window.

“Soon, little bug. Let’s go to the garden. We can show him how much everything has grown since he’s been gone,” you suggest, leading him outside.

You're both kneeling in the garden, Minjun excitedly pointing out each new sprout and blossom, when you hear the gate click. Looking up, you see Minho, thinner and a bit pale but smiling as he watches his son.

“Daddy!” Minjun screams, sprinting towards him with a speed that surprises both of you. Minho drops to his knees just in time to catch him, embracing him tightly. His eyes close as he buries his face in Minjun’s soft curls. 

“I missed you so much, buddy,” Minho murmurs, his voice thick with emotion.

“Missed you more,” Minjun replies, his small hands cupping his face as he kisses his nose. 

You walk over slowly, giving them a moment, before Minho looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/nnie, thank you,” he says, standing up to face you. “It means a lot.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Minho. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you reply, your voice gentle.

“No, I need to say this,” Minho insists, taking a deep breath. “I was wrong, and I’m sorry for how I treated you. You’ve been nothing but kind, and I took that for granted. I hope I can make it up to both of you somehow.”

“One step after the other. For now, you should rest; we can talk properly later,” you suggest, offering a smile that Minho returns gratefully.

Minho reaches into his pocket, and you can hear him pulling out his keys. He stretches out his hand almost timidly, offering you your spare keys to his home. “You're always welcome. If not for me, then for him, please. I don't want him to suffer just because I fucked up.”

You hesitantly take them, able to tell he's trying to fix things. “I…I'll think about it. I need time, Min.”

“That's okay,” he assures you. “Your replacement is shit, by the way,” he says with a weak grin. 

You chuckle softly. “No, that's you being used to someone handling things for you more than for the others,” you remind him. You inhale deeply and awkwardly rub your neck. “I'll also think about that, okay?” 

“Okay,” he nods, unable to hide the hope in his orbs at the mere chance of you coming back. “I'm sorry.”

“I know,” you assure him. “Me too…Now, go rest, please. Call if you need something.”

“Bye, Y/nnie,” Minjun says, hugging you tightly as you get down on his level. “Love you.”

You swallow softly, a similar surprise lacing both Minho's and your features. “I love you too, buddy,” you answer honestly and squeeze him gently. “Now go home with your daddy, yeah?”

-

The quiet of the morning was filled only by the faint sounds of the city waking up beyond the walls of the small, cozy room where Minho found himself slowly coming to consciousness. As his senses sharpened, the first thing he became aware of was the warm, small body pressed against his side. Gently turning his head, he sees Minjun, his little baby, sleeping peacefully next to him, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The sight fills Minho with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love.

Carefully so as not to wake him, Minho wraps his arms around Minjun, pulling him close. The boy, still deep in his dreams, instinctively snuggles closer into his father's embrace. Even in sleep, Minjun seems to sense his father's need for closeness and comforts him with his mere presence.

Minho’s eyes trace the soft, youthful features of his son's face, noting the faint freckles that dust his nose and the gentle curl of his lips. Memories flood through Minho’s mind—the first time he held Minjun, the first steps he took, the first words he spoke.

Recovering from his incident, Minho was forced to confront his own vulnerabilities and the stark realization of how much he relied on the presence of his son. These mornings, waking up next to Minjun, were sacred. They were not just moments of physical rest but crucial for his emotional recovery as well. 

Minjun shifts in his sleep, a small sigh escaping him. His small hand grips Minho's shirt tightly as if, even in his dreams, he is determined to hold on. Minho’s heart aches with an overwhelming mix of joy and sorrow—joy for his son's presence and health and sorrow for the times he hadn’t been there as fully as he wanted.

“Daddy loves you, Minjun,” Minho whispers into his son's dark curls, his voice barely audible. A tear escapes the corner of his eye as he tightens his embrace, grateful beyond words for his return to health and the second chance it represented.

The sun begins to cast its first rays into the room, streaks of light that paint the walls with the colors of dawn. The light seems to coax the city to life gently, and as it does, it also seems to awaken Minjun. The little boy yawns and blinks open his eyes, surprised for a moment to find himself so close to his father.

“Daddy?” Minjun’s voice is sleepy and confused but also filled with an affection that comes from deep within.

“Good morning, buddy,” Minho says, his voice still thick with emotion. “Did you sleep well?”

Minjun nods, rubbing his eyes with the backs of his hands. “Yes.”

Minho smiles. “That sounds good. Maybe we can go to the park later?”

“Yeah!” Minjun’s face lights up with excitement. “And I can be a hero!”

Minho laughs, the sound rich and full of genuine happiness. “Of course, my little superhero. But first, how about we make some pancakes for breakfast?”

Minjun’s agreement is instantaneous and enthusiastic. As they get up and make their way to the kitchen, Minho keeps his son close, his hand resting lightly on Minjun’s shoulder. Making breakfast together was a simple activity, yet it held so much meaning for Minho, just being home again. 

As Minho watches Minjun clumsily crack eggs and stir batter, he is filled with gratitude for his young son's resilience. He had managed to stay strong and loving throughout the difficulties they had faced.

“Daddy?” Minjun looks up at him, a slight frown on his face. “Are you okay? You look sad.”

Minho is taken aback, realizing that his emotional reflections must have shown on his face. He kneels down, bringing himself to eye level with Minjun, and smiles.

“I’m more than okay; I’m happy,” he assures his son, his hand gently cupping the boy’s cheek. “I’m just very thankful for you, Minjun. You’re my little hero, did you know that?”

Minjun giggles, the sound like music to Minho’s ears. “I’m your hero?”

“Yes, you are,” Minho assures him, hugging him tightly. “My biggest hero.”

Minjun hugs him back, his small arms strong and sure. “It’s okay, Daddy. I take care of you.”

The words, so earnest and sincere from such a young soul, fill Minho with an even deeper appreciation for his son and his eyes with tears. He realizes that while he was often the one taking care of Minjun, his son was also taking care of him in many ways, providing love, motivation, and a reason to recover fully and well.

One week later 

For Minjun's birthday, Minho decided on a cozy movie night—a welcome change from the usual buzz of birthday parties and perfectly suited for their small circle. The boys all love a good movie night, find children's movies hilarious, and, most importantly, they all love Minjun like their own. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a soft glow through the windows, they arrive one by one.

Chan and Felix arrive last with a special surprise for the birthday boy. “Jiho, mate, we brought someone with us,” Felix leans down to him conspiratorially. 

“Who?” he asks curiously, eyes growing wide. Chan steps aside and gently pulls you out of hiding. Minjun squeaks in delight, looking up at Minho excitedly. “Daddy, it's Y/nnie!” he says, jumping in place impatiently. 

Minho giggles and gently brushes back his curls. “Well, go say hi, dumpling.”

Minjun doesn't need a second invitation to fall into your arms. “Hey, little bug,” you say quietly. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he beams happily before moving on to greet the next guest. “Uncle Channie, up!” he says, reaching out for him. 

Chan smirks, lifts him up and throws him into the air above his head a little, catching him safely again. Minho flinches heavily, reaching for Minjun in shock. Felix laughs at him, gently patting his back. “Channie, babe, don't give him a heart attack.” 

Chan laughs, putting a giggling Minjun back on his feet. “Sorry, Min,” he chuckles, and Minho snorts. 

“Alright, come on in, you know the way,” Minho laughs.

The living room was transformed into a fortress of comfort. Pillows and blankets were strewn across the floor, creating a plush sea of soft fabrics that invited everyone to kick off their shoes and sink in. The air was rich with the aroma of popcorn and sweet treats that lined the table alongside a stack of Minjun’s favorite animated movies.

Minho watches as Felix and Jeongin set up the projector, their antics punctuated by light-hearted banter that fills the room with laughter. Hyunjin and Seungmin are tasked with stringing fairy lights around the room, adding a magical ambiance that makes the space feel like a small cinema hall. Jisung and Changbin, meanwhile, busy themselves in the kitchen, popping more popcorn and arranging a variety of snacks on platters. Minho watches his family with a smile, each member contributing to the evening’s success, weaving their love for Minjun into every detail.

The movie starts, the lights dimmed to mimic a theater, and the first frames flicker across the makeshift screen. Minjun sits between Minho and you, a perfect sandwich of his favorite people, his face lit by the soft glow of the projector as he watches with wide-eyed wonder.

Throughout the evening, the adults' eyes often meet over Minjun's head, shared smiles of affection and slight amusement at his captivated reactions to the on-screen adventures. During a particularly exciting scene, Minjun would sometimes stand, pointing at the screen and explaining to you loudly the many details of the plot as he understood them.

"The hero's gonna save everyone. He's strong like daddy!" Minjun's voice is full of pride and excitement, making everyone chuckle, especially Minho, whose heart swells with love and a bit of awe at his son's interpretation.

The room is filled with the sounds of the movie, mixed with Minjun's occasional commentary and the boys' gentle laughs.

Halfway through the second movie, Minjun’s eyelids begin to droop, and he leans more heavily against you, his small hand gripping yours as he fights the pull of sleep. You look down at him, a soft smile playing on your lips, touched by the trust and affection Minjun shows you.

Minho notices this gentle exchange, and his heart is filled with gratitude for your presence in Minjun’s life, especially during the times when he couldn’t be there himself. He makes a mental note to himself to ensure you know how much your support meant to him, perhaps later when the movies are done and the excitement of the day has settled into the quiet of the night.

As the evening winds down and the credits roll on the last movie, Minho gently nudges Minjun awake to blow out the candles on his small birthday cake. With a sleepy grin, Minjun makes a wish and blows with all his might, the room erupting into applause.

"Happy birthday, Minjun!" everyone cheers, making him giggle happily and hide in Minho’s arms shyly. 

Minho soothingly kisses his hair and cuddles him close. Your heart warms seeing them, and glancing around the room, you can tell how much Minho and his little boy mean to everyone. Minho looks almost as tired as Minjun, but both are beaming with happiness. The boys fall back into their usual chatter, and you more or less subtly watch Minho next to you with Minjun still in his arms. They're having a quiet conversation, Minjun resting his head against Minho's and holding onto his hands. You feel the old, familiar warmth spreading through you as you watch them. Getting into that fight with Minho had made you feel awful. You missed your time with Minjun and you realized how used you've grown to Minho's presence in your life. 

Minho's eyes find yours, and your breath hitches at the softness of his orbs. “Minjun's asking if you could read him a bedtime story?”

“Oh, of course,” you nod. 

“The bedroom’s upstairs, second door on the left. You can get comfortable there; he loves cuddling in bed before,” he assures you kindly and watches you leave with Minjun. 

Chan nudges him gently. “You two are alright again?”

“We're working on it,” he tells him, and Chan hums agreeingly. 

“We should wrap it up,” Chan chuckles, and Minho hums agreeingly. 

“Yongbokie and you can have the guestroom upstairs. You'd get home way too late,” he tells him. Chan and Felix live the furthest away, after all. “Jisung and Hyunjin can have the sofa,” he laughs, seeing them already deep asleep there. 

Seungmin, listening in, pouts softly. “I'm tired, I don't want to leave.”

Minho glances at him and Innie, resting their heads on Changbin’s shoulders. “I can only offer you to sleep here with all the pillows and stuff.”

“Sounds great,” Jeongin mumbles drowsily. 

“Mhm, then that's settled,” Chan chuckles, soothingly rubbing Felix's shoulder as the younger one slowly grows heavy against him. “Should we clean up tomorrow then?” 

“Yeah, I'll do it once everyone's gone,” Minho laughs. 

“Lix and I can help,” he assures him, earning a thankful smile. 

About ten minutes later, once Minho made sure everyone had what they needed he made his way to his own bedroom, Chan next to him. “I forgot Lix gets cold easily,” he chuckles and carefully pushes the door open. He stops in his tracks, seeing you comfortably sprawled out on his bed, Minjun on your chest, and a book loosely in your hand. You're both asleep, looking peaceful and content. “Shit, I forgot about Y/nnie,” he curses quietly. 

“You can't really move him anywhere else, look at Minjun,” Chan giggles. 

“And where am I supposed to sleep?” he asks quietly, grabbing a fluffy blanket for Chan and Felix. 

“There's plenty of room next to them,” he says. 

“Chan. I can't just get into bed with my assistant,” he argues. 

“Your so-called assistant is hugging your son and asleep in your bed. I think you're way past that, mate,” he laughs. “It's your bed; just keep your distance or whatever.” Minho anxiously chews on his lower lip, debating a hundred different possibilities in his head. “Or you join me and Lix?”

“No, you two touchy fuckers can have that bed for your own,” he giggles, shoving his chest. “Not interested in a threesome right now.”

“Right now?” Chan teases, and Minho playfully raises his fist at him. “What about-”

“Go sleep, you're talking nonsense,” he laughs and gently shoves him outside. “Idiot.”

Chan giggles and gently shoves him back inside. “I'll hit you if you don't sleep in your own bed tonight. You still need rest, idiot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he groans. 

Minho stares down at the scene before him, the weight of Chan's words sinking in. He watches you and Minjun, both deep in the tranquil sleep of the innocent and the cared-for, their faces peaceful and free from the burdens that Minho carried on his shoulders.

Gathering all his bravery, Minho slowly approaches the bed, his movements hesitant but deliberate. As he reaches the edge, he pauses, taking a moment to truly look at you—someone who has become so much more than just an assistant. You have been his support system, his son's caregiver, and his unintentional savior in times of unspoken despair. How could he continue to maintain a mere professional boundary when everything about your relationship had transcended those limits?

Minho carefully settles on the far edge of the bed, maintaining a respectful distance. He lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The soft sounds of Minjun's and your breathing soothe his nerves. 

The room is silent, save for the soft ticking of the clock and the distant sounds of the city. Minho turns his head slightly, watching Minjun snuggle closer to you in his sleep. The sight is both beautiful and a stark reminder of the intimate moments he had missed during his recovery.

After a few moments, you shift in your sleep, perhaps sensing the added presence or the slight dip in the mattress as Minho lay down. Your eyes flutter open, and in the dim light, your gaze meets Minho’s. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, your voice sleepy yet filled with warmth. “I can leave.”

“Don't,” Minho says quickly and swallows hard. “He's comfortable here with you; there's no need to leave.”

“You're sure?” you ask, and he hums in response. “Well, you should get comfortable as well. There's no need to hover over the edge of the bed.”

Those words, softly spoken, are like a key turning in a lock for Minho. They break through his last hesitations, sweeping away the remnants of his doubts. He shifts closer, reducing the distance between him and you, and allows himself to relax fully. You turn on your side to face him, your eyes locking with his in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” Minho whispers, the words thick with emotions. “For everything.”

Your hand finds his under the blankets, giving it a gentle squeeze. “We’re past apologies, Minho. I fucked up because I took him without telling you. I didn't think and expected you to trust me; that wasn't fair. You overreacted…which is kind of understandable. I'm sorry for my part in this, and you're sorry for yours. We're okay.”

Minho feels a warmth spread through his chest. He nods, accepting your forgiveness, and turns his attention to Minjun, who murmurs something inaudible in his sleep and snuggles closer to both of you.

-

The early morning rays begin to seep through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Your eyes slowly flutter open as they meet your face. Stretching your tired body, you slowly realize that Minjun is gone already…and that Minho has gotten a lot closer overnight. You glance down and see his arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to himself. His head is buried in your neck; you can feel his breath dancing across your skin. His hair feels soft against your skin and you wonder how it'd feel if you sank your hand into it. 

You freeze, unsure of what to do next. The warmth of his breath against your skin sends a mix of comfort and alarm coursing through you. This is Minho, you remind yourself, technically, he's still my boss. Yet, the intimacy of this accidental cuddling was something entirely new, a boundary neither of you had crossed before.

Minho stirs, his movements slow and sluggish as he approaches the edge of consciousness. You hold your breath, waiting for his reaction when he realizes the closeness you both shared through the night. His eyes open gently, adjusting to the soft morning light, and then widen slightly as he takes in the position you both are in.

There's a moment of silent understanding, a mutual acknowledgment of the unintentional closeness. Minho’s eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and something softer, a vulnerability you've seen only in fleeting moments. He pulls back slightly, his hand retreating from where it had found a place around your waist.

“I-I’m sorry,” Minho mutters, his voice a low rasp tinged with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to-.”

“It’s okay,” you interject quickly, your voice soft, attempting to brush off the awkwardness. “We were both asleep. Things happen.”

Minho nods, his cheeks tinged with a blush that he can't hide. He sits up, rubbing the back of his neck—anxious gestures that you’ve come to recognize as his way of coping with discomfort. 

Silence fills the room for a few heartbeats. Both of you glance away, then back at each other, unsure of how to navigate this new, uncharted territory in your relationship. Finally, Minho clears his throat, his eyes meeting yours with an earnestness that makes your heart skip a beat.

“I didn’t intend for that to happen,” he says, his voice steady but soft. “But I can’t say I regret waking up next to someone who means so much to Minjun… and to me.”

Your breath hitches slightly at his words, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks. “Minho, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Minho interrupts gently. “I just want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us. For being here, for taking care of Minjun when I couldn’t, for being more than just an assistant, more than just a friend.”

The weight of his gratitude sits between you, heavy and warm. You nod, unsure of how to articulate the jumble of feelings his proximity and his words have stirred in you. 

“Thank you for trusting me, Minho,” you manage to say. 

Minho smiles a genuine smile that reaches his eyes, easing some of the tension. He glances at the clock, then back at you. “I guess we should get up. I promised Minjun pancakes, and I suspect he’ll be storming in soon if we don’t start cooking.”

You laugh, the sound light and freeing, breaking the last remnants of awkwardness. “Pancakes it is,” you agree, getting out of bed. You adjust your clothes, still feeling the warmth of where Minho’s arm was wrapped around you.

As you both head to the kitchen, the normalcy of the routine helps mend the morning’s awkward start. Minjun greets you both with a bright smile, oblivious to the tension from earlier, comfortably on Changbin’s lap. “Uncle Changnin is fun,” he announces, making everyone giggle at his slight mispronunciation. 

“Mhm, of course, I am,” Changbin smirks, shooting the others a glare. “Uncle Changnin is fun..unlike some others here.”

Minho laughs, rolling his eyes at him. “Who wants breakfast?”

Throughout the morning, there are shared glances and shy smiles between you and Minho, a silent acknowledgment of a bond that had deepened in the most unexpected way. As you watch Minho flip pancakes, his laughter mingling with Minjun’s excited chatter, you feel a contentment settle over you. This, you realize, is more than just a job; more than just a responsibility-it’s a part of your life that you cherish deeply.

Later, as you sit together eating the slightly deformed pancakes that Minjun insists are perfect, you catch Minho’s eye, and he gives you a small, grateful smile. You'd be okay. 

PART TWO | PART FOUR

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @lost-in-avoidance @moonchild9350 @spicxbnny @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1

[calicoheartz]

Oh oh anddd...

Cait x wbbp!reader. Caitlin confesses to reader after their homecoming game because Caitlin realized that she doesn't want to hide her feelings anymore and possibly lose the love of her life.👀

-🦢

Hoco Hearts ; Caitlin Clark

꣑୧ — summary | you and caitlin had been best friends since middle school , what happens when she decides to make you hers on the eve of your homecoming game? 💌

wc ; 805

— warnings | lots of romantic / sexual tension , a bit suggestive , mainly fluff (high- school au)

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : ugh ily anon. YOUVE BEEN KEEPING ME FEDDD W UR REQS! also sorryyyy its low-key kind of short :( Enjoy besties ◡̈

Caitlin stood beneath the glowing lights of the basketball court, the scent of popcorn and excitement lingering in the air, as the sound of excited highschoolers filled her ears. It was homecoming night, a night pulsating with anticipation and celebration, as everyone gathered to experience the last basketball game of their senior year. But amidst the anticipation and excitement radiating both on and off the court, Cait’s mind was a whirlwind of emotions.

Her eyes glanced across the eyes before locking them onto a familiar and distinctive figure. You were a dedicated member of the girls basketball team at Dowling Catholic highschool, and had been playing varsity since your freshman year. 

You were always there, capturing every moment of the games with unwavering passion, and Caitlin couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves in her stomach everytime their eyes met.

Your history with Caitlin goes all the way back to middle school, with you two quickly developing and forming a strong bond, especially with your common interests such as basketball among other things. It was undeniable that you two had underlying romantic feelings for eachother, but the two of you never knew when the right moment was to bring these newfound feelings to light. 

There had been a number of situations where you two had almost shared a kiss, whether it was behind the bleachers after an intensive game,  or possibly alone in the bathroom at a halloween party; regardless, it was very obvious that the two of you were just more than friends.

But Cait was your best friend, she had been there for you when you got your first boyfriend, received your first heartbreak, and all the hallway crushes you had acquired over the years. And it pained her that you weren’t getting the hints she was giving you, the way she glanced at your lips constantly, or occasionally rubbing the inside of your thigh when around your friends, it was torture. 

You knew Caitlin liked girls, she knew that you liked girls, so why weren't the puzzle pieces naturally falling into place? 

That's why when their last homecoming game approached, Caitlin knew that this would be her last chance to confess her feelings before it was too late.

The game was intense, with both teams giving it their all. Caitlin played her heart out, her mind consumed with thoughts of you. Every time she made a play, she hoped you were watching, hoped you could see how much she cared, not just about basketball, but about you.

As the final buzzer sounded and the crowd erupted in cheers, Caitlin felt a mix of emotions. On one hand, she was thrilled that they had won, but on the other, she knew that the moment of truth was fast approaching. She had to tell you how she felt.

After the game, as the team celebrated their victory, Caitlin pulled you aside, her heart pounding in her chest. She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, and looked into your eyes.

"Hey, can we talk?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, concern etched on your face. Caitlin led you to a quiet corner of the gym, away from the jubilant crowd.

"I... I have something I need to tell you," Caitlin began, her voice trembling slightly. "I've been keeping this to myself for so long, but I can't hide it anymore. I... I love you, Y/N. More than anything."

You stared at Caitlin, stunned into silence. You had never expected this confession, never even considered that Caitlin might feel the same way you did. Your heart soared with hope, but you needed to be sure.

"Do you mean that, Caitlin?" you asked, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.

Caitlin took your hands in hers, her gaze unwavering. "I do. I love you, Y/N, and I don't want to hide it anymore. I want to be with you, if you'll have me."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized that your feelings were reciprocated, that the person you loved felt the same way. Without hesitation, you threw your arms around Caitlin, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"I love you too, Caitlin," you whispered, your voice filled with emotion. "I've loved you for so long, I just never thought you could feel the same way."

"I've loved you since I was 14.." the brunette whispered back.

Caitlin held you close, her heart overflowing with happiness. She had taken a chance, laid her heart on the line, and it had paid off in the best possible way. She was with the person she loved, and nothing else mattered.

As you both stood there, lost in each other's arms, surrounded by the sounds of celebration, Caitlin knew that this was just the beginning of your love story. And she couldn't wait to see where it would take you.

ahhhhhhh omg wait I rlly wanna write more cc/pb high school au fics !!!! as always, thank you guys so much for reading <3

[informalcrybaby]

Travis Kelce x Reader (Always You)

You had known Travis Kelce your entire life. You grew up in the same neighborhood, with only two houses between you. If you were to close your eyes, it would be easy to relive years of school, football games, dances, and long nights of getting into trouble with friends. You always knew that you were attracted to him but wouldn’t ever risk losing the bond you shared by telling him your closest-kept secret. So, you watched him date the prettiest girls and listened to your friend's fantasies about him at sleepovers. All, while dying just a little bit more inside.

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

            You watched from the Kelce box, high above the crowds of screaming fans in the stands, as your best friend achieved what he had been working for his entire life. Tears that you didn’t even know had started falling down your cheeks, falling to soak the neckline of the Chief’s jersey bearing his name. His mother was silent beside you, beaming with pride but holding her excitement back for Jason’s sake. Silently, she reached for your hand and squeezed. You squeezed back in acknowledgment.

            A security guard entered the room, alerting the players’ families that it was time to go down to the field to celebrate with their boys. You followed the throng of excited people downstairs and through the tunnels, absorbing the energy they were radiating. Absentmindedly, you placed your hand against the front of your jeans pocket, ensuring your hearing aids were still safely inside. You had taken them off when the timer hit zero and the cheering in the room became too loud for you to bear.

“You ok honey?” Mr. Kelce signed to you clumsily and her heart swelled. The Kelce family had all learned basic signs over the years, but Travis was the only one she would consider fluent.

“I’m just so happy for him,” You wiped your tears and signed back slowly, “He really did it.”

            Fresh tears began to fall as the crowd pushed forward and you couldn’t help the ache that overtook your heart. You remembered all the times you spent talking about your dreams and the phone calls shared from faraway points in the country when you both got older, and your lives weren’t linear. He was always there for you, through everything and you loved him deeply for it in secret still.

            Suddenly, the crowd parted, and warm light hit your face. Confetti fell around the arena, blanketing the players and their families. She watched as wives threw themselves into their tired arms, parents wept for their son's success and children ran around enjoying the atmosphere. You spotted Travis and Jason on the 40-yard line, heads bent together. You could see Jason’s lips moving but couldn’t read them from your current position. When Travis beamed as his mother approached, you assumed Jason had told him to enjoy his victory. His smile had always been the most beautiful you had ever seen but, in this moment, it was the sun.

            You hung back and watched as the Kelce family simultaneously celebrated and comforted each other. When Jason’s wife and children surrounded him, Travis’s eyes began to search the crowd and fell on you. He smiled brightly and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” He signed quickly, the smile never leaving his handsome face.

“Letting you enjoy your family,” You signed back, flashing him a smile of your own, before adding “I’m so fucking proud of you Travie.”

            The use of his childhood nickname made his chest vibrate with laughter and he began walking towards you. Your heart threatened to stop beating in those few moments before he reached you and when he finally did, you could have sworn that you were living a dream you had had for years. Without hesitation, his still-gloved hand reached into your pocket and extracted your hearing aids.

“I want you to hear me when I say this.” He signed before handing your devices to you.

            With shaking hands, you managed to secure them around your ears and noise flooded your quiet world. The atmosphere around you was electric but the only sound that you were concerned with was the voice of the man before you.

“It’s always been you y/n.” He said firmly before putting an arm around your waist, drawing you close to his body. You gasped, placing one shaking hand over his chest pads. His familiar scent clouded all your senses.

“Travis, I don’t understand.” You stammered in response as his hand squeezed your hip.

“I knew I loved you my whole life,” He breathed, his face inching closer to yours until your lips were inches apart, “But I’ve been too stupid to do anything about it until now.”

            His lips met yours softly at first but quickly became demanding. You met his advance hungrily, gripping the back of his shaven head and pulling his body closer to yours. You had only ever imagined what this moment would feel like before and now that it was happening, you’d be damned if you didn’t put your years of longing into this one kiss.

“I love you.” He whispered softly, the hand on your cheek holding firm.

“It was always you too, Travis,” You smiled while wiping a piece of stray victory confetti from his stubbled cheek, “Always.”

[giorno-plays-piano]

Binary Star

Part I

Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

____________

He is really going to get her this time. This is the finish line, quite literally: the graduation; his last attempt to win and emerge victorious from the very last battle between him and her. It has to be it.

If he couldn't win against her for the last time, Gojo would probably have a mental breakdown right in the middle of the ceremony. Geto standing right next to him rolls his eyes to the ceiling over his friend who's shaking from excitement and fear. Of course, Satoru wouldn't admit it even under torture, but Suguru knows better. The girl his friend has been competing with throughout high school isn't just smart: she's completely insane like Gojo and as big pain in the ass as him. Who knows, perhaps she'll really win this round. He prefers not to think of it.

Satoru searches for her in the crowd, standing on his toes despite already being a foot taller than anyone else in the hall. Is she here? This nightmarish woman who has been pushing him to give high school his all because she dared to take away his crown of the best student during their freshman year? When Satoru saw the scores, he thought he might have had a heart attack. There was no way he was no longer #1.

"That's what you get for messing around the chem lab," Shoko snorted while Satoru dumbly stared at the name of that annoying girl, always the teachers' pet, heading the list. His name was written right under hers.

What the actual fuck?! She got a better score than him? Him, the genius, with his undeniably superior IQ of 180 that he flaunted at any given time? Who did she think she was, Sheldon Cooper or something?

It got him so fired up he actually started studying.

"You're so dumb," Geto eventually said after his friend had gotten in the argument with the girl during their ethics class - again. "You know you could be making out with her now, right? She's the only person who could actually get along with your stubborn ass."

"Wha-a-at? What about you?" Immediately disregarding his question, Satoru was already pouting like a kid. "Wouldn't you date me?"

"Yeah, over my dead fucking body."

To be fair, it's not that Gojo never thought of her that way - she was pretty, even if he was never going to admit it out loud - but she was also so insufferable Gojo really couldn't focus on anything else but beating her in that game they were playing. The best score on the history exam? They both wanted it. Math test? Him and her were working on those questions as if their lives depended on it. Biology project? Satoru made sure to do the impossible, submitting something he would get a Noble prize for, and yet he still somehow managed to get the same grade as her. It was absolutely infuriating.

Why on Earth did she decide she could be better than him? He was Satoru Gojo, after all. The one and only son of Gojo family, who was not only embarrassingly rich but also fucking smart - his parents used to flaunt his talents throughout his whole childhood and continued doing it well into adulthood. He couldn't tell them he was no longer #1. What would his mother say? Dear God, it was hard to imagine what would happen to his father of he learned some random girl got a better grade for that English paper than him. It was, at the very least, unbecoming of Satoru.

But she was unrelenting, irritated with his status of the school genius, and ready to fight him on every occasion. Satoru had no idea what could piss her off so much - in the end, he was the most charming guy around, wasn't he? - but there wasn't a day she'd let him have his way. She was brave, persistent, and knowledgeable, and he hated her very much.

The fact that Shoko and Suguru were asking him to please get together with her and stop antagonizing the whole school only riled up Gojo even more. As if he was going to date that nerd!

When he learned she'd be running for the valedictorian, it was the last drop. No fucking way. She couldn't take it away from him - even if he had never actually cared about being a valedictorian.

If his friends had thought he was obessessing over her, now they realized Satoru went completely nuts. He started studying so much he barely slept: it was a given, considering the bags under his eyes were making his skinny ass look like a starving raccoon. Geto couldn't drag gim out even in between lessons because Satoru was immediately burying his head in the books.

It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he's done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

Pfft, of course she won't. She'll probably stab him in the parking lot once he tries to get into his car.

But when the headmaster finally announces the results, and his, Satoru Gojo's, name is called, he no longer sees her in the crowd, and the sweet taste of victory suddenly turns to ashes in his mouth.

Where is she? She couldn't have known it would be him. To be frank, he didn't either. How could she leave right before the results were announced?

He gives his speech with a stupid smile plastered all over his face, but his mood has already soured. She had to be there to hear he was named this year's valedictorian! What face did she make? Did she leave right after she heard it wasn't her? Did she cry? Did she run away because she couldn't take it? Wasn't she going to say to him anything at all?

How could she just... vanish?

He doesn't know why he expected her to be the bigger person and come tell him he did great, but he truly did. Suddenly, he realizes he wants her to look him in the face and say he is good enough.

Did he need to be the bigger person, perhaps? But, wait, isn't he a bigger person by default because he's the winner, he wondered. The winner is always the bigger person if he doesn't rub loser's face in the dirt, right?

In the end, he couldn't even enjoy the victory he had been craving for so long.

"She had something urgent come up," Shoko says later in the restaurant, making a tsk-ing sound while Gojo listens to her with a frown on his face. "Something about her family."

Something about her family? What could be as important as the announcement of valedictorian?

"Are you dumb?" With a sigh, Suguru cocks his head to the side. "Plenty of things are more important than this valedictorian crap."

Maybe to somebody else, but not to her, Satoru thinks. Beating him has always been the only thing on her mind, and nothing could have changed that.

__________

He will be mulling over it for a long, long time once he realizes she did not follow him to Harvard despite her scholarship.

Part II

Tags: @minshookie29

[vettelsvee]

PREGNANCY JOURNEY | Sebastian Vettel

f1 masterlist | wattpad | ao3 | instagram

rbr sebastian vettel x schumacher!reader | part 1 here

summary: a little bit of your pregnancy journey with seb

word count: 2809

warnings: none of it! just seb and reader being cute (at least that's what i think sjsj). settled on 2012 season

a/n: I love dad!seb bye, pls send me requests bc he's literally the seb i love to write the most about

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

Yours and Seb's families

It had only been two weeks since Sebastian and you had discovered you were going to be parents in that room in Hungary, and you wanted to start sharing the news with your family.

After much deliberation on how you could do it in such a special way, you decided to organize an intimate dinner at the house they shared in Switzerland.

As you enjoyed the delicious dishes you prepared yourself with the useless help of your boyfriend, nerves filled you both as you prepared to share the news at the end of the dinner. So, when desserts arrived at the table and you enjoyed them while chatting animatedly about trivial matters, Vettel gently took your hand under the table. With a glance, you knew it was time to tell your parents what you had been hiding.

You took your glass of wine, from which you hadn't been drinking, and stood up, causing the attentive gazes of the three present to focus on what you were about to say:

"Mom, Dad. Heike, Norbert," you began. "Today you're not here just because I'm showing off my ridiculous cooking skills, but for a more special reason."

Confusion arose among the older couples, who exchanged confused looks with each other.

You began to get emotional, finding it impossible to articulate your words. Therefore, Seb took over for you, continuing with the improvised speech:

"I know it might not be the right time," the younger German expressed, taking your hand, "but you're going to be grandparents."

"Wait… What do you mean, Sebastian?" your mum asked curiously, doubting what her son-in-law just told them.

"That's right, son," Norbert agreed with your mum. "What are you trying to tell us?"

"We're going to be parents," you whispered, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm pregnant."

As soon as your mum heard from your own mouth that you were expecting a child, she rushed to hug you tightly, immediately joined by Vettel's mother, causing all three women to have teary eyes. Norbert immediately ran to hug his son, shouting in excitement as he did so, and your dad, on the other hand, was in shock, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"Wait a moment, Y/N," Michael commented, rising and positioning himself next to his son-in-law. "Are you saying that you've been accompanying Seb all season while pregnant, and on top of that, you've kept it from me?"

You started laughing at your dad’s comment. Sebastian, on the other hand, began to feel fear for the first time in his life towards the man who initially became his idol and, over time, not only his friend and mentor, but also his father-in-law.

"Dad, no!" you denied. "I haven't been pregnant all this time. I'm currently about three weeks along, and we found out as soon as we arrived in Hungary because I was nauseous and dizzy the whole trip," you explained.

"I'm sorry if this caught you off guard," your boyfriend apologized, especially to Michael. "It’s not like we haven't been hiding the pregnancy," the young man declared, "but we needed time to process it and make sure it wasn't a false alarm."

Schumacher sighed in relief and wrapped his arm around his wife. Heike hugged her husband, who still couldn't believe he was going to be a grandfather for the first time.

"Yeah, okay…" your dad finally replied. "I'm glad to know that my eldest daughter hasn't been taking unnecessary risks and that, furthermore, you've been celebrating Seb's victories properly."

The mention of this made Sebastian wish he could disappear at that moment just like you.

"Michael, don't say that to them!" your mum exclaimed, hitting her husband's arm. "I still can't believe we're going to be grandparents. It's wonderful! Congratulations, guys!"

Once you exchanged hugs and congratulations, the quartet returned to the table to finish enjoying dinner. The truth was that your parents were concerned about your condition, but for different reasons: on one hand, Michael knew how stressful Formula 1 could be day in and day out, and he didn't want his eldest daughter to suffer accompanying Sebastian, so he would have to have a serious talk with you. Corinna, on the other hand, knew they still had to break the news to Gina and Mick, who would be aunt and uncle in about nine months. As for the Vettels, there was nothing to comment on or exceed: in a few months, the family would grow even more, and the excitement of having the little one in their arms was overwhelming them at that moment.

The former decided to stay silent for the moment, pondering when he could have a chance to talk to you alone. Corinna, however, decided to ask you about what how would you break the news to your siblings:

"Y/N, dear," she immediately captured your attention despite being deeply engrossed in a conversation with your father about Seb's performance that season. "Don’t you want to share the news with your siblings? I think they would like to know that you're pregnant, they would be quite happy..."

"Yes, of course..."

"For now, we would like to enjoy this stage of the pregnancy privately," Vettel interrupted you, "although that doesn't mean we won't tell them. For heaven's sake, Corinna, my siblings don't know anything yet either!"

The woman glanced at her husband, who shot her a look to calm down. Indeed, both families continued to celebrate the new life Seb and you had created and, in due time, would reveal to the rest of their loved ones and possibly the whole world.

Mick and Gina

You couldn't keep the secret any longer. It had only been a couple of days since your parents and in-laws found out you were going to be parents. The same went for Seb's siblings, whom you finally called on the phone because they couldn't come to Switzerland at the moment.

Now it was time for Gina and Mick to find out they were going to be aunt and uncle at fifteen and thirteen years old.

Summer vacation was coming to an end for both teenagers and the eldest Schumacher. The kids had to go back to school, while you would be traveling the world again with you father and you boyfriend in early September.

For that reason, and because you were really excited to see her siblings' reaction, you decided to tell them that afternoon they would go to the mall.

"Guys," you said as you ate your bowl of cereal, "we're going to the mall today. I want us to spend some time together and, well..." you dropped a hint, trying to be mysterious. "I have some news to share, actually."

Gina's eyes widened in surprise. Mick kept his gaze fixed on his buttered toast with jam, pretending not to hear although he was actually really excited.

"Of course, Y/N!" Gina exclaimed excitedly. "I can't wait to buy some new clothes, especially to hear what you have to tell us."

"Exactly that," replied the youngest brother, mouth full. "You're acting very suspiciously, as if you've killed someone. Have you killed someone?"

Gina flicked Mick on the head, who immediately protested, sparking an argument. You simply cleared away your breakfast dishes and placed them in the dishwasher, leaving the kitchen seconds later, not believing that those arguing over a trivial matter would later discover they were going to be uncles.

Once at the mall, the three of you strolled through the aisles, looking for stores of interest and, especially, trying to blend in with the crowd, surprisingly succeeding.

The truth was that days earlier, you and Sebastian had agreed that to break the news to the kids, they would invite them to dinner at their favorite restaurant. However, to avoid raising suspicion, you would say that Seb couldn't make it because he had scheduled a meeting with Red Bull to discuss a few strategy matters. This way, you thought, the kids would be even more surprised.

As the afternoon wore on, your nerves, along with bags of clothes for the kids, and a few indulgences for themselves, grew.

"Y/N, is Seb coming with us?" Mick asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Oh, no, I forgot to tell you! Seb mentioned he had a Skype call or something with Horner and Red Bull about strategy, so he can't make it."

You hated lying to your siblings, especially about Vettel-related matters, particularly to the youngest. They had a very good relationship and sometimes seemed more like siblings than the three Schumacher kids together.

"I know you were excited to see him," you continued explaining, "but I'm sure in a couple of days, or even tomorrow, I can tell him to come over."

"Exactly, Mick," Gina chimed in, "let's enjoy an afternoon with siblings, there will be plenty of time for you to see your brother-in-law!"

After a while of strolling, you finally decided to take your siblings to the restaurant they held in such high regard. As soon as you entered, you spotted the Red Bull driver sitting at a table checking emails on his phone.

Sebastian looked up and found a preteen Mick Schumacher running towards him, receiving a hug the moment he reached him.

"What are you doing here, Seb?!" Mick exclaimed, drawing everyone's attention. "We thought you had a meeting with your team!"

Sebastian tousled the boy's hair and stood up to greet both Gina and you, who were giving him knowing glances at what was about to unfold.

"I guess these past few months I've become quite the expert in lies," you said. "And you're not here for just any reason."

Mick and Gina exchanged glances, not fully believing what their older sister was telling them.

"Indeed," Vettel continued, "before we order anything, we'd like to tell you that, around March next year, we'll be adding one more member to the family."

"You're going to be aunt and uncle, guys."

Both of them stood there speechless, trying to process what they had just heard.

"Is this for real, sister?!" Mick whispered cautiously, aware that you were public figures and attention would be on them at that moment. "We're going to have a nephew, Gina!" he turned to his younger sister, who was still in disbelief.

"This is incredible, guys!" Gina exclaimed. "I can't wait for March next year now... And I thought the best thing that could happen to me was going to see One Direction that month!"

You and Sebastian exchanged a knowing glance, realizing that the joy the younger ones were feeling at that moment was even greater than they had initially expected.

"We're so happy that you're part of this beautiful journey ahead," Seb explained, giving them both a hug. "I'm sure, and I know your sister and your parents are too, that you're going to be amazing aunt and uncle. The baby is so lucky to have a family like yours."

You wiped away tears. You hated getting emotional over the slightest thing, but at the same time, you were grateful to be surrounded by so much positivity and support from the early stages of her pregnancy.

"That's for sure, Seb," Mick replied jokingly. "But you have to understand that I'm going to be the funny uncle, and most importantly, his favorite."

The dinner continued with laughter, anecdotes from the teenagers that Seb and you had missed because of the Grand Prix races and, especially, future plans they would make when little Vettel-Schumacher decided to make his way into the world.

Mark Webber

After a month-long break, 2012 Formula 1 season was finally back in Belgium.

You, despite being about three, almost four, months pregnant, decided to continue accompanying you boyfriend for the remaining nine races.

Friday, before free practice sessions began, you were in Seb’s room at the Red Bull Racing hospitality. The German held an instant camera in his hands intending to take a few pictures of you, something that had become routine to document your pregnancy. You, reclined on the sofa in the space, simply caressed your increasingly prominent belly.

The flash of the camera snapped you out of your trance, immediately feeling embarrassed.

"Seb, I've told you a thousand times I don't like you taking pictures of me when I'm not ready," you commented, feeling somewhat uneasy.

Sebastian couldn't care less.

"You're perfect, Y/N Schumacher," Sebastian replied, taking another snapshot of you. "Come on, stand up for a moment and pose with our son for your future husband. You don't have to worry about looking good or not, you're doing enough work creating a life in your belly."

You agreed to your boyfriend's proposal, excited enough to hug your belly and shed a few tears.

Hormones were acting like crazy on you, and Sebastian Vettel might too if he kept being so good to you.

The blonde raised his camera again and once more took a picture of the scene in front of him, highlighting your smile above all.

As the photo was revealed and Sebastian, sitting on the floor, was admiring it, the door to the room opened, revealing a somewhat angry and surprised Mark Webber.

"Well, well…" the man exclaimed. "What do we have here?"

Sebastian and you exchanged looks, a mix of excitement and nervousness. No one beyond your families knew you were expecting a baby, and with the way the Australian was acting, you knew that would soon change.

"What you have here is the future best mother in the world, Webber," Sebastian explained, gesturing from top to bottom at you and then touching your belly once he stood up.

"That's incredible, guys! I'm really happy for you!" Mark approached you and hugged you, genuinely pleased with the news you had just revealed and especially by the trust you had in him to do so.

"Well, it seems Horner will be pleased when you tell him the news," Seb's teammate continued, "because I'm sure he'll want to sign the little one as soon as he's old enough."

"Of course, Mark," Sebastian replied. "Not every day you create offspring with both Schumacher and Vettel blood."

"The royalty of Formula 1, if I may say," Michael Schumacher interjected, entering the Red Bull garage despite not being part of the team. "And now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see how my daughter and my grandchild are doing."

You asnwered with a small ironic laugh at her father's remark, who was mistaken at that moment to think that Charlotte Vettel-Schumacher would be a boy.

Kimi Räikkönen

The penultimate race of the 2012 season finally arrived, and you and Sebastian had finally revealed to the world that you were going to be parents. Although there were mixed reactions and comments, the majority of people who discovered that the eldest daughter of Michael Schumacher and the two-time world champion were going to have a child were quite pleased.

Both of you were in the paddock, arriving a bit later than usual. 

"Vettel, hey," Kimi called out as soon as he saw you two. "I heard rumors that you have a new passenger in your very own car. Is that true?"

You burst into laughter at Räikkönen's irony, who maintained a cool demeanor.

"Yes, Kimi, it's true," Seb replied, still chuckling. "The baby is due in March, so just a few months to go."

You nodded in agreement with your boyfriend's statement.

"So, there will be a new fan running around the paddock soon..." Räikkönen commented. "Make sure he doesn't miss the races, Y/N."

"Of course, no need to worry about it..."

"But, hey," Kimi interrupted you, "don't let him stay up all night watching replays of my victories, okay? He's needs some rest too."

Sebastian was bewildered. However, you were laughing even harder at Kimi's antics.

"Don't worry, mate," Vettel replied, "I assure you I'll train her in such a way that she'll be taking you on track before she's even ten."

"Yeah, right, whatever you say" the Finn said ironically. "Just make sure that when she decides to enter the world, you invite me to her big welcome party."

You nodded, playing along with the Lotus driver.

"It's surreal that you've won another victory, Vettel," Kimi continued. "And remember: invite me to the party. I want to welcome the little one with alcohol, lots of alcohol."

Kimi lowered his head in farewell and continued on his way to his garage, letting you both get on with your day.

You and Sebastian knew Kimi well enough to understand that most of his comments were sarcastic, but within the sarcasm, there was genuine happiness for them.

Who would have thought that years later, Charlotte Vettel-Schumacher would become the apple of her godfather, Kimi Räikkönen's, eye, every time she visited the paddock with her mother.