#i know in the grand scheme of things not getting to see a show is not anything major | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lyvhie · 3 months

Note

hi omg read the jeno one I requested ATE DOWNNNNNN…… so for nowwwww maybe thinking jeno (sorry I love him…) x shy!reader who doesent really like the idea of jeno seeing her naked cause reader is SCAREDDDD… so he just praises her throughout the whole thing… LOVE UR WORKS they’re so good 💖

-🦋🦋🦋🦋

touch it | ljn

jeno x fem!reader (18+ mdni)

summary: jeno never intended to invest so much time and effort just to have sex with you.

a/n: my sweet 🦋 anon... i'm sorry it took me so long to post this. as soon as i saw it i started writing but it wasn't coming out like i think it should and i didn't want to give you something bad 😞 please forgive me 🙏 i hope you like this one too, it ended up being longer than i was planning. love u, please don't give up on me!

cw: smut, shy/inexperienced!reader, jeno big dick agenda, very slightly bulge kink, fingering, oral (m), unprotected penetrative sex (bcs i forgot to write the condom part sorryyy 🫣), praising, pet names.

jeno never considered himself a patient person. he always got what he wanted when he wanted. and that's why you were driving him crazy.

at first, he enjoyed toying with you, finding it effortless to get under your skin. it was just a game to him, a way to pass the time by teasing and taunting. he loved pushing your buttons with even the slightest action, knowing how easily you would react.

he wasn't entirely sure why you acted the way you did around him. was it shyness or fear of people in general? perhaps a combination of both. regardless, he found your reactions incredibly endearing. whenever he looked at you, he couldn't help but smile at the way you fidgeted and stumbled over your words.

it was cute. he just knew he had to fuck you. he made it his personal goal.

he was aware that winning you over wouldn't be easy, and that he'd have to gain your trust and go through the whole song and dance. but he saw it as a thrilling challenge, and he was determined to make you his.

he surprisingly found it easy to become your friend. given your lonely nature, he didn't need to put in much effort. you didn't appear to have many friends, which made it simple for him to step in and fill that role.

what began as innocent gestures, like whispering sweet nothings in your ear or tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, quickly escalated into more intimate encounters.

his “accidental” touches or the casual placing of his hand on your thigh, how he enjoyed wrapping his arms around you from behind, his chest pressed against your back as his hands gently roamed your sides. he did all of this to get rise out of you, to see you get all flustered and embarrassed and it worked perfectly.

he knew that simply being a good friend wouldn't be enough to take you to bed with your legs all open for him, so he doubled down on his efforts. he had to be the best friend you ever had.

he became the person you could count on for anything — if something was troubling you, he'd be there to listen and provide comfort. you wanted a plushie from your favorite show? no problem, he would make sure to get it for you. feeling lonely and in need of companionship? all you had to do was call him, and he'd be right there for you.

all of it was part of his grand scheme to lower your defenses and draw you closer to him. and it worked little by little.

when you confessed that you had never kissed anyone before, his response was instant: "that's what friends are for." he gauged your reaction, noticing the way you nibbled on your lip and fidgeted with the hem of your skirt, all little habits that he had noticed in you a long time ago.

his words were merely to test the waters, to see how you would respond to his subtle advances. he was overjoyed when you finally agreed to his suggestion, after taking some time to consider (a good 5 minutes). he couldn't help but feel proud that he was the one who would get to kiss your innocent lips, a thought that thrilled him. this small victory fueled his confidence in the belief that winning you over wouldn't be hard.

it was fun to him, teaching you how to kiss for the first time and seeing your reaction to his touch. the moment he reached out to touch your face, you quickly recoiled, as if you had been burned. it just fueled his desire to go further and explore this nervous, inexperienced side of you.

"relax, baby," he spoke softly, your favorite term of endearment rolling off his tongue effortlessly. he gently took your hand in his, soothingly rubbing his thumbs over your skin in a reassuring manner. it was his way of calming you down, a small gesture that never failed to affect you.

as you tried to follow his words and relax, he cupped your face between his hands and leaned in closer. with a soothing tone, he instructed you to close your eyes. he was so close that you unconsciously held your breath, which made him chuckle. his breath ghosted over your skin as he spoke, his proximity to you causing your heart to flutter in your chest.

as his lips finally touched yours, a soft gasp escaped you and you nearly jolted. he started with just a gentle peck, giving you a chance to adjust to the sensation. your heart pounded wildly in your chest, the rapid rhythm so intense that you feared it might burst out of your chest at any moment. you were almost certain he could hear it, the sound of your heartbeats echoing in your ears and filling the silence between you.

his soft voice gently commanded, "open your mouth slightly, sweetheart," and you obeyed eagerly, parting your lips. a small hum escaped you as you felt the warm, wet touch of his tongue slipping into your mouth. the sudden sensation sent chills down your spine, surprising you in the most pleasurable way.

as you started moving your tongue against his, following the rhythm he set, he was the one who couldn't help but let out a pleased hum. his hand moved from your face to your hair, fingers gently grasping the locks and pulling you closer to him.

the feeling of your mouth against his, your inexperienced but eager tongue trying to keep up with his, was beyond what he imagined. the taste of you, so sweet and untainted, drove him to become more demanding, rougher, and you didn't seem to mind, responding to his intensity with a sense of abandon.

he carefully maneuvered you onto your back on the couch, crawling over you and bringing his body on top of yours. his hands began to explore your form, tracing every contour until they reached your thighs and gently caressed the soft skin. with a sly smile, he squeezed the supple flesh, grateful that you were wearing a skirt, making his plans even simpler.

tou were so absorbed in the way his mouth captured yours that it took awhile for you to notice his hand roaming further up your skirt. the feeling of his fingers slowly tracing your inner thigh sent shivers up your spine, igniting sparks of pleasure that made you almost gasp into his mouth.

you managed to pull away from the kiss, panting for air, and stopped his hand before it went any higher. "w-wait, jeno," you gasped, your voice breathless and filled with hesitation.

jeno's breath was shallow, his mouth moving to your neck as he inhaled your scent and began to place soft, gentle kisses there, making you left a soft sigh. he hummed against your skin, his voice still unsteady as he responded to you. "what is it, baby?" he murmured against your skin, his warm breath teasing your sensitive flesh.

“i-i don't—” your words were interrupted by a gasp as he sucked on your neck, his lips creating a pleasant suction that made your head spin. but as he continued to nibble and kiss your skin, you softly pleaded, "j-jeno, stop.”

jeno grudgingly pulled away from your neck, his eyes a mix of desire and annoyance as he looked at you. but you were too flustered to notice his expression, hastily hiding your face in your hands, unable to meet his gaze. your embarrassment was palpable, and the moment was suspended in a brief silence.

before he could utter another word, you hastily scrambled out from under him, mumbling a clumsy excuse before hastily retreating to your room. he sat there on the couch, a little bewildered, as he watched you disappear. the sound of your door closing echoed in the silence that followed, leaving him alone with his frustrated thoughts.

he ran his hand through his hair. of course he wouldn't get in your panties so quickly. he got a little carried away by the moment and forgot that he needed to take things very slowly with you.

he had assumed you would lock yourself in your room for a while longer, probably consumed by a million thoughts and doubts that he was all too familiar with at this point.

after a while, he stood up from the couch and approached your door, knocking softly on the wood. "i'll be waiting," he called out softly, and that was all he said.

he was already starting to turn away, but the sound of the door opening caught his attention. you emerged from behind the opening, looking at him timidly, and he was taken aback by your whispered request.

"can we... keep practicing? j-just the kissing…" you spoke in a small voice, your words barely audible but filled with trepidation and desire. he froze for a moment, surprised by the unexpected request, before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“you don't have to ask twice, sweetheart.”

in the days that followed, a new routine was established between you and him. every time you found yourselves together, whether at his place or yours, the hours would pass in a haze of lip and tongue, mouths moving against each other in a frenzy. by the end of each session, your lips would be swollen and sensitive to the touch, a reminder of the time spent indulging in such an activity.

but what truly fueled jeno's frustration was the fact that your interactions always seemed to stop at the same point. no matter how much he touched and caressed you, nothing ever went further than a few brief moments of physical contact.

he felt an intense sense of desperation growing within him, the unfulfilled desire weighing heavily on his mind. he longed to take things further, to explore more of you, but somehow he always found himself stuck in this endless cycle of heated yet ultimately unsatisfying make-out sessions.

he was already mentally bracing himself for the challenges ahead, but then you caught him off guard once more.

sitting on his lap, your tongues intertwined in a hungry dance, you suddenly did something unexpected. you began to subtly grind against his thigh, your movements and moans so natural it was as if you weren't fully aware of what you were doing.

the sensations were immediate, and he felt a twitch in his pants. the feeling of you riding his leg set his body trembling with desire. a low groan escaped him, his kiss growing more fierce as he tried to keep himself together in the face of your unintentional provocation. he could feel his arousal growing with each passing moment, and the thought of having you so close yet so out of reach was driving him insane.

jeno's grip on your waist became a little tighter as he pulled you down, pressing you against him more firmly. the thin fabric of your shorts did little to disguise the wetness building between your thighs, leaving a noticeable dampness on his pants.

your moans grew a little louder as you lost yourself in the sensations, and jeno reluctantly broke the kiss to look at you. he clutched your waist, stopping your movements and holding you firmly in place, drawing a whine from you.

your words escaped your lips involuntarily, a soft plea for more. "jeno, please," you murmured, desperation tinging your voice. he chuckled softly at the sound of your plea, his smirk growing wider. “please what, baby?" he whispered, his lips brushing gently against yours, barely making contact, teasing you with the lightest touch.

his question hung in the air, unanswered, leaving you floundering to articulate your desires. you felt a mixture of shyness and embarrassment, unable to vocalize what you truly wanted. so, your response was a soft whine as you hid your face in the crook of his neck. his chest vibrated with a low chuckle, his amusement evident at your inability to express yourself clearly.

“you want some relief here, sweetie?” his hand slid between your legs, his middle finger pressing against your clothed cunt, making you gasp at the sudden contact.

this time, you made no attempt to stop him, instead nodding silently in agreement. you buried yourself deeper into the safety of his neck, feeling embarrassment and need. you knew deep down that you were desperate for some form of release, and the realization only flustered you.

jeno, on the other hand, was practically bursting with excitement and joy, mentally launching fireworks and wanting to dance a victory lap around the house. he was finally close to getting the hardest fuck of his life — not exactly in the good way.

his voice was a soft whisper in your ear as he nibbled gently on your earlobe, sending shivers down your spine. "we should do something about it, shouldn't we, pretty girl?" he murmured, his nose nuzzling tenderly against your ear. "will you let me help you again?" he asked, his breath warm against your skin.

your response was immediate, a desperate plea for his touch. "yes, please," you managed to stutter out, your voice tinged with a hint of need.

even though he just wanted to empty his balls, he knew he had to make you experience some of the sensations and induce you to want more.

jeno leaned against the bedhead, preparing himself for what was to come. his one hand began to trace gentle circles on your thigh, while the other continued to soothe you with soft caresses on your back. "okay, baby," he assured you. "just relax and let me take care of you, alright?”

jeno had become skillful in taking care of you, and his request for you to relax was met with an immediate submission from you. he wasted no time moving your pajamas shorts out of the way, efficiently tugging the fabric to the side.

due to your current position, where you were on his lap, with your chest pressed against his and your face still buried in his neck, jeno had limited visibility of you. he could feel your body against his, but he couldn't see much more than that. despite being mildly frustrated by the lack of visual access, he knew you wouldn't pull away anytime soon, even if he asked. you seemed too focused on hiding your flustered face against his skin.

even so, he could feel how soaked your panties were and that was enough for him right now. once again, jeno wasted no time in his actions, pulling your panties to the side with decisive motion. his digits pressed gently against your sensitive flesh, eliciting sigh from you. his fingers parted your folds, gently exploring your wetness with delicate movements. he took his time, savoring the moment, your soft sounds and how you were already squirming with just a few touches.

you gasped as he slipped a finger inside you. he started pumping slowly, he could feel how tight you were and he couldn't help but feel his cock stir inside his pants, his mind swirling with thoughts of what it would be like to be inside you.

"how does it feels, baby?" he coos, adding another finger to stretch you just enough, feeling how you clenched around his digits and moaned timidly into his neck. “g-good… very good,” was all you could mutter, your breath hitching as you felt him scissor and curl.

jeno hummed, a contented sound escaping him, as he used his free hand to gently push away the strands of hair that hung over your neck. he pressed his lips against your skin, gently kissing and nibbling at the sensitive flesh, feeling a shiver run through you.

jeno's fingers began to search inside you, seeking out the spot that would make you melt. when you trembled and a loud moan escaped you, his smirk widened. "found it," he chuckled, continuing to target that sweet spot with deliberate precision.

he added pressure with his palm against your clit, rubbing it softly but firmly enough to ignite intense sensations. he knew exactly how sensitive you were, and even this gentle touch was more than enough to leave you moaning and trembling.

jeno nuzzled your ear, his breath warm against your skin as he spoke soft words to you. "you sound so pretty, baby," he murmured, his hand never ceasing its movement as he felt your body clenching around him. "i know you're close already," he continued, increasing the speed of his movements. "just let it go, don't hold it back, okay?" he coaxed.

you didn't even realize how close you were, the sensations stirring in your body completely unexpected. there was a strange feeling in your stomach, your toes curling as you clung to him tighter. then, his words struck you like a command, and suddenly, a wave of pleasure washed over you. the new sensation was overwhelming, almost transporting you to another realm.

jeno absolutely loved the way you mewled his name in the midst of your climax. he relished in the sweet sounds you made, eagerly anticipating the chance to hear more and feel more of you. his desire was palpable as he continued to watch you come undone in his arms.

with your body quivering from the aftermath of your climax, you leaned against him, allowing your weight to fully rest on him. the tingles that coursed through you seemed to reach every inch of your skin, leaving you breathless. you panted slightly as you felt your body slowly returning to a state of stability.

jeno slowly withdrew his fingers, wiping them clean on your shorts. with a gentle tug, he drew your face away from his neck, allowing him to finally get a proper look at you.

your mind was still hazy from the intensity of your climax, and you barely registered his actions until you saw the smug expression on his face. the realization that you looked so utterly wrecked just from a little fingering made jeno silently contemplate how you would look when he pushed you further than just his fingers.

you were on the verge of speaking when he silenced you with a kiss, a kiss that you gladly returned. the touch of his hands slipping under your shirt sent a shiver down your spine, his fingers gently caressing your bare skin. you felt his touch drifting over the clasps of your bra, his movements deliberate and suggestive.

despite being consumed by the myriad of sensations he was evoking in you, you couldn't help but notice the way his hand tugged at the hem of your shirt, clearly signaling his intention to remove it. but as he began to lift the fabric, you instinctively halted his movements by placing your hands over his, preventing him from proceeding further. you pulled away from the kiss, gazing into his eyes a hint of hesitation.

“n-not yet, jeno,” you managed to stutter out, biting your lower lip as you averted your gaze from him. the thought of revealing yourself even partially in front of him sent a wave of fear and nervousness coursing through you. despite the intimate moment you had just shared, the idea of baring your body to him, even further, felt overwhelmingly nerve-wracking.

frustration and disappointment etched itself across jeno's features as he suppressed the urge to curse aloud. instead, he released a soft, frustrated breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours. he had been eagerly anticipating a night of finally fucking you senseless until you can't even remember your name, and your hesitation dampened that hope once again.

your soft-spoken words brought him back from his momentary disappointment. "but i..." you began, your voice tinged with coynes and a hint of determination. "i want to make you feel good too," you confessed, your eyes drifting down to his lap, where you couldn't help but notice the evidence of his arousal. there was curiosity and desire in your tone as you confessed your wish to return the favor. “j-just tell me what to do…”

a spark of something akin to admiration and appreciation flared up in jeno's eyes as he processed your words. out of all the things you had ever said, these words felt like music to his ears. a hopeful glimmer of satisfaction shone through, a realization that the night might not be a complete wash after all.

jeno chuckled affectionately, his voice carrying a hint of genuine appreciation as he spoke. "that's so nice of you, sweetie,” he murmured, gifting you a gentle peck on the lips which prompted a smile to bloom on your face. following his instructions, you carefully repositioned yourself, assuming a kneeling position between his legs, your eyes looking up at him expectantly.

a glimmer of greed flickered through Jeno's eyes as he took in the sight of you looking up at him. his hand cupped your face, his touch soft as he traced his fingers along your cheek. a subtle smile played at his lips as he issued a command, his voice dripping with desire. “you can start by taking off my clothes,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours, hungry and full of heat.

you followed his directions without hesitation, slowly unbuttoning his pants and gently pulling them down, the sound of the fabric rubbing against his skin filling the room. as the fabric pooled around his ankle, your eyes couldn't help but drift towards his impressive package, your breath catching in your throat at the sight.

you saw a darker spot on the fabric of his boxes, damp with pre-cum, you wasted no time in removing the remaining piece, freeing his aching cock that stood proudly in front of your eyes, eliciting a soft sigh of relief from him.

you continued to stare at his dick, blinking a few times as you processed the sight. he was big. too big.

jeno chuckled heartily at the sight of your eyes widening in surprised awe, his ego swelling with a touch of cocky confidence. he knew exactly what was running through your mind. "don't be shy, pretty girl," he teased, a sly smile playing on his lips. "you can touch it." he leaned back, resting his weight on his hands as he waited for you to make a move.

as calm and collected as he appeared to be, jeno was practically craving your touch. his muscles tensed under your gaze, and there was a hint of desperation in his eyes as he longed for your caress. however, he was determined to maintain a facade of coolness, masking his inner pleading with subtle smirks and sultry words.

as your delicate hands finally encircled him, a soft sigh escaped jeno's lips, his eyes closing for a moment as he savored the sensation. jis breath hitched, his teeth gently sinking into his lower lip in response to the pleasure coursung through him. his dark gaze was fixed on you, watching intently as you explored him with a look of curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

you started to stroke his cock slowly, the pre-cum acting enough as a lubricant, facilitating your movements. “just like that, sweetheart,” he said in low groans, his breath heavy.

yes, this. more. fast. please. he closed his eyes tight to savor the sensation. each sweet, slow movement of your hand pushed him closer to relief. and then... a new sensation joined the others. a delicate, refreshing affection, at the tip of his cock. almost like a breeze. you were licking it. rolling that pink, shy and naughty tongue around the head of his erection. kissing and tasting lightly. the feeling was intense. sublime. insufficient.

it took him by surprise how you effortlessly seemed to know what to do, and he found himself thoroughly enjoying it. his hands threaded through your hair, his fingers delving into the soft strands as he lavished his touch upon your head. in that moment, he found himself unable to hold back his words. his voice came out in a rough whisper, "put it all in your mouth.”

for a brief moment, a flicker of worry crossed jeno’s expression. he feared that his request might have intimidated you, that you may stand up from your position on the ground and refuse to continue. he was on the verge of pleading with you, nearly uttering a desperate “please,” but before he could voice his concern, you unexpectedly acquiesced to his command, enveloping the head of his cock in your wet, ecstatic heat.

you began hesitantly. which was understandable, since this was your first time. but you didn't need much skill. he throbbed with desire while you showed great enthusiasm, even though you had no experience. there was little you could have done — except bite him, perhaps — that wouldn't have been delicious.

you were more than good. it was fantastic. he found himself rocking his pelvis, trying to go deeper each time your sweet, juicy mouth descended on him.

a ragged moan escaped his lips as he spoke, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he moved his hips in a quicker, more insistent rhythm. “you are doing so well, baby. so, so, well,” his words came out in a deep, raspy tone.

the mounting tension between you had taken its toll on jeno, and he was acutely aware of the pleasure that had been denied to him for a considerable amount of time. it was a struggle to maintain control, and he found himself teetering on the edge of climax.

as you continued your ministrations, he swallowed hard, the air around him seemingly growing thinner. his body trembled under your touch, his breath escaping in ragged gasps as he felt his climax building up, on the verge of tipping into pure ecstasy.

and, before he could even warn you, he came in your mouth, holding your head in place, forcing you to take his entire load. he didn’t mean to do that, but it felt so good he didn’t want you to pull away at the best part.

as you pulled away, gasping for breath, jeno's grip on your hair loosened, his hands gently releasing their hold on you. his own chest heaved with effort, his breathing ragged and labored from the intense encounter. he gazed at you with eyes heavy with desire, drinking in the sight of your disheveled appearance and the thin line of his cum that traced the corner of your mouth. in that moment, his expression was one of pure contentment and satisfaction.

a ghost of a smirk played at the corners of jeno's lips, his voice lacking any trace of remorse. "i'm sorry, i should have warned you, baby," he said, his words carrying a hint of satisfaction rather than regret.

you glanced up at him, offering a timid smile as you assured him, "i-it's okay, it wasn't that bad,” he watched as you ran your tongue over your lips, innocently cleaning the remnants of his essence.

god, he thought, you're so sexy.

from that point forward, not only had making out become a regular occurrence, but oral sex had become something you enthusiastically welcomed. jeno couldn't help but notice the change in you, how earnestly you seemed to embrace the act of pleasing him. it looked like you derived a sense of satisfaction from bringing him to such levels of ecstasy.

even though jeno was completely happy with the addition of a new activity to the menu, it still wasn't enough. don’t get him wrong, he loved getting a blowjob whenever either of you were in the mood, but what he really needed was to actual fuck you.

he found himself perplexed by your reluctance to take the next step. while he was fully aware of your penchant for shyness, he couldn't help but wonder why you hadn't given in yet.

considering the things you had already engaged in, he assumed that your comfort level would have already reached a point where you would be receptive to more.

the mounting impatience and desire finally got the better of him, and he decided that it was time to address the issue directly. he took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts before addressing you with a blunt question.

“baby, why don't you just let me fuck you?”

jeno caught you off guard, interrupting your casual routine as you were making your way to bed and using a towel to dry your hair. you momentarily froze, the towel suspended in mid-air as you turned to face him with widened eyes. “w-what? jeno…!” you stuttered as you hastily grabbed the towel, clutching it against your face in an attempt to conceal your flustered expression.

he couldn't help but roll his eyes, at your reaction, with a smirk on his lips and a chuckle in his voice, he reached out and pulled you closer to him, his arms encircling your waist and drawing you into his embrace. he settled his chin on your belly, gazing up at you with a curious expression and added with nonchalant tone, "i’m just curious, you know.”

with a single movement, jeno reached up and took the towel from your hands, tugging it away from your face to reveal your expression. his eyes scanned your face, taking in the adorable sight of you all bashful and shy.

"i-i..." your voice trailed off, your nervousness clearly evident. jeno's eyes remain fixed on you, waiting patiently for you to continue. sensing your hesitance, he encouraged you gently, his voice soft and soothing. "mmm, i'm listening," he urged, silently coaxing you to continue.

you averted his gaze, your voice barely above a whisper as you finally confessed. "i-it's just...you'll see me naked and all...," you admitted, the thought alone making your heart race with anxiety.

jeno's eyes widened momentarily as he processed your words, his expression alternating between disbelief and shock.

that was the reason? no fucking way.

"are you serious?" he asked, his voice filled with a touch of incredulity. you responded with an eager nod, still not looking at him, "i-i can't do that, you'll see everything!" your voice trembled slightly, the thought of being fully exposed in front of him clearly terrifying to you.

jeno couldn't believe what he was hearing. it seemed almost unbelievable that the reason you were hesitant to take the next step was solely because of the thought of being completely naked in front of him.

his facial expression softened as he tried to understand your perspective better. "baby, it's me, you know," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. he reached out to cup your face, his touch tender. "you don't have to be embarrassed with me," he continued, his eyes searching yours.

"i...i know that," you stammered, feeling your heart fluttering in your chest at his touch and the soothing sound of his voice. despite knowing that he was someone you trusted deeply, the thought of being completely nude in front of him still felt overwhelming.

you tried to articulate your feelings, your words coming out in a shaky whisper. "but... it's just... i'm worried i won't look good enough for you," you confessed coyly.

great. you were insecure. he forgot that.

“that's just so stupid," he muttered, pulling you onto the bed with him and positioning you straddling his lap. his fingers gently cradled your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "you know i love every single part of you, right?" he repeated, his tone tender and sincere. "even those i'm yet dying to see," he added with a smirk, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every contour. "you are just perfect.”

your eyes widened slightly at his words, his unwavering confidence in your beauty causing a flutter in your chest. insecurity still lingered, but the way he spoke with such certainty made your doubts waver.

your hands unconsciously found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your breath hitched. "you...you really think that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as your lips form a small pout.

jeno chuckled softly, his hands moving from your face to your hips, their grip firm but gentle as they held you in place on his lap. "i don't just think it, i know it," he replied, his eyes scanning your face as his thumbs began to trace soothing circles on your hipbones.

his voice dropped lower as his eyes held your gaze, “your body is incredible," he repeated, "i love every inch of it." his expression softened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "and i would love even more if you just let me see more of you. you have nothing to be shy about, baby. let me show you just how much i appreciate every part of you.”

your heart skipped a beat, his words igniting a flutter of anticipation within you. despite your lingering insecurities, you couldn't deny the way his words made your stomach churn with excitement and nervousness, he sounded so inviting.

after a few moments of contemplation, your voice trembled as you finally gave in, your eyes meeting his.

"o-okay," you whispered, the word barely audible, as if spoken more to yourself than to him. taking a deep breath, you made the decision, your heart racing in your chest. “i-it's fine.”

as soon as the words left your mouth, granting him permission, Jeno's lips were on yours in a heartbeat, the kiss passionate and feverish. his hands didn't waste any time either, slipping under the fabric of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your back.

“that's it, sweetie,” he said against your lips. “i promise it will be worth it,” he pulled you closer, the intensity of his embrace and the hungry way his tongue sought yours sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

jeno's impatient hands were soon tugging at the hem of your shirt, his movements eager and insistent as he lifted it over your head, revealing your bare upper body, clad only in a bra. his breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of your exposed skin, his eyes roaming over you, appreciating every inch. his hands continued to caress your skin, the feeling of flesh on flesh sending shivers down your spine.

his touch was gentle and deliberate, his fingers tracing soft lines along your collarbones, your arms, down your sides. he leaned forward, his lips pressing kisses along your neck and collarbones, nipping and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. "you are so beautiful, baby," he murmured against your skin. "i've been wanting to do this for so long.”

he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck and collarbones, his movements soft but insistent. as he trailed a path of kisses down your chest, his fingers traced the lace of your bra, tracing the edge of the fabric with the tip of his fingers.

his lips moved lower, his kisses growing more frantic as they reached your chest, his tongue tracing the contour of your cleavage as his hands continued to roam your body. his fingers trailed a path down your back to the clasp of your bra, his knuckles brushing against your skin as he fumbled to undo it.

jeno's fingers worked quickly to undo the clasp of your bra, his touch both impatient and skillful as he finally managed to free you from the confines of the undergarment. he pulled it away, revealing your bare chest to him, your tits jiggling slightly.

“fuck,” he exhaled a shaky breath, his eyes taking in the sight of your exposed flesh. "you're more beautiful than i ever imagined," he murmured, his voice filled with desire and awe.

as jeno continued to gaze at you, you couldn't help but feel a wave of shyness wash over you. your arms instinctively moved to cover your chest, attempting to shield yourself from his unabashed staring. embarrassed, you muttered, "s-stop looking at me like that.”

he reached out and gently pulled your arms away from your chest, exposing your bare skin again. “don’t be embarrassed,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. “you’re gorgeous. i could look at you all day.”

He leaned down, his hands trailing a path across your chest, his fingertips gently caressing your boobs. his touch was feather-light, almost reverent as he explored the contour of your flesh. he took his time, seemingly wanting to savor every moment of this encounter.

slowly, he lowered his head, his hand reaching out to cup one, his thumb brushed over your nipple, his fingers closing around your breast, squeezing gently as he drew your nipple into his mouth, sucking softly. he hummed contentedly, lost in the sensation, his lips working slowly, savoringly.

a soft gasp escaped your lips as jeno's tongue worked its magic, sending shivers down your spine. your body writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his locks, tugging at them softly.

feeling your body respond to his touch, he took the opportunity to lay you down on your back, gently coaxing you into the plush pillows. he never stopped his ministrations, he caught your nipple between his teeth, giving it a light bite and then sucking, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive touch, as if marking you as his own.

“god, you're so perfect," he whispered, he moved to your other tit, giving it the same attention. "don't hide yourself from me again.”

jeno's hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, his touch burning against your skin. he pulled them down, along with your panties, as you lifted your hips up to help him guide them down your thighs and off your body.

when you were finally bare before him, he couldn't help but take a moment from sucking your boobs to admire the sight of you laid out beneath him, open and vulnerable.

“look at how hot my pretty girl is,” he bite his lower lip, leaning closer to capture your lips in a rough kiss, his fingers making their way to between your thighs. he knew he needed to prepare you for the main event, to make sure you were ready for what he was dying to give you.

you were so sensitive that it was easy to get reactions from you, he didn't even need to finger you that much to make you come a few times, that, along a few praises on your ear while hitting your sweet spots, were enough to have you squirming under him.

jeno's breath was warm against your ear as he spoke, his words sending delightful shivers down your spine. "okay, sweetie," he whispered, his lips still pressed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "you're doing so well."

he could feel your quick breath and the sweat beginning to form on your forehead. his wrists were growing tired from his efforts, but he wasn't backing down. "i'll make you feel even better," he promised, his voice low and seductive.

he shifted his body, his hands working quickly to remove his clothes, discarding them carelessly on the floor beside the bed.

your eyes drank in the sight of jeno's body, taking in his toned muscles and the way his body glowed in the faint light of the room. your gaze fell on his cock standing proud and ready, and a wave of heat washed over you, making you instinctively press your legs together. he was so hot. it was unfair how good he looked.

“like what you see, pretty?” he asked with a smug smile. you weren't brave enough to say the words out loud, but you wanted him to know that you appreciated him too, so you only nodded fiercely, making him laugh and lean over you to press his lips against yours in a gentle kiss while positioning himself between your legs, his erection rubbing against your thigh.

jeno broke the kiss to look into your eyes, his gaze intense and serious. he gently cradled your chin in his hand as he spoke, his voice filled with concern and desire. "just listen to me for a moment, okay?" he said softly. "i need you to promise me that if it becomes too much, if it hurts in any way, you'll tell me to stop. can you do that for me, baby?”

his words hung in the air for a moment, the implications clear. you knew why he was saying that. the size of his cock was undoubtedly intimidating, and it was natural to feel a pang of fear. but your desire for him overpowered any reservations you might have had.

with a nod, you responded. "yes, jeno, i can," you gave him a small smile, "i’ll tell you if it's too much.” he studied your face for a moment, making sure you were sincere and not just saying it to please him. he could see the want in your eyes. the way you nodded your head and answered him firmly gave him the reassurance he needed.

“that’s my good girl,” he kissed your cheek, straightening his back and wrapping his hand around his cock, stroking it a few times before pressing it against your entrance, teasing you lightly by rubbing the tip up and down.

then, he slowly pushed his lenght inside you, as he advanced, you gasped and clutched the sheets, small whimpers of pain escaping your lips. you were lucky you were wet enough to ease the pain, his dick slid into you with ease, he really prepared you well.

jeno's expression mirrored pleasure, his eyes closing in ecstasy as he threw his head back and let out a silent moan. it was as if he had been waiting for this moment for an eternity, and the feeling of you enveloping him was like entering a state of nirvana.

he paused for a moment, his body trembling with pleasure and exertion, as he looked at you. he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

"are you doing okay, baby?" he asked, his voice hoarse and low, he wasn't even half way and you seemed to be struggling already.

he looked at your face, taking in the expression of pain and pleasure mingled on your features as your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes welled up with tears. despite the discomfort you were feeling, you reassured him. “y-yes, keep going," you managed to say through trembling lips, your voice shaky but determined. "i can take it, i promise.”

jeno couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for finding you so incredibly hot even in that moment. he leaned in closer, pressing his face against your neck, and sought out your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. it was an attempt to provide some distraction from the pain, and his words were a soothing whisper against your skin.

"that's it, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. "you're doing so well. just a little more,” he continued to move his hips, causing you to gasp once more, and he couldn't help but moan at the feeling of you squeezing him. his grip on your hands tightened as he fought to maintain control of his own desire to simply fuck you hard.

and when he was finally fully inside you, a wave of relief washed over you, releasing a soft sigh from your lips, you never felt so full before.

he soon let go of your hand to straighten his back again, you were speared open by his cock and when he pressed the palm of his hand on your belly and you felt the bulge he made there, it was too much. neither of you were expecting you to cum right now, your voice crying out his name as your entire body tremble.

“fuck, baby, already?” he asked under his breath, a smile on his lips. again, that was so hot of you. he can't believe he made you come like that.

and that was enough for him. he pulled his hips back slowly, his cock almost all the way out, a brief moment of relief when your insides were empty again, which didn't take long when he pushed back into you hardly, his tip hitting your cervix, making you both moan loudly. you didn't even had time to recover from the most intense orgasm of your whole life.

“fuck,” he said almost breathless. “feel that, pretty girl?” his grip on your hips tightened enough to feel painful and leave bruises. “feel how deep i am?”

the room was filled with sounds of skin against skin as he increased his pace, thrusting even harder while voicing out a few praises to you, saying how well you take him, how good your pussy feel, how he wanted to fill you up with his cum.

he nipped and nibbled at the sensitive flesh, leaving behind a trail of kisses and light love bites as he continued to move in and out of you. your name spilled from his lips like a prayer, a plea, a mantra.

you had intended to speak, to ask him to slow down, but before you could utter a word, jeno sealed your lips with his own, effectively silencing your pleas. his kiss consumed you, capturing all your moans and protests.

he picked up the pace, his movements growing more urgent, more desperate as he feel himself getting closer to his climax. jeno's voice was a low, seductive whisper, his breath hot against your neck. "gonna fill you up, pretty," he murmured, his teeth sinking into your flesh. "you're gonna take every single drop," he whispered fiercely, nibbling at your neck once more as he continued to move, his thrusts growing more insistent.

his hand went to your clit, wanting to make you cum once again, this time right with him. he was close to his limit and he knew he was overstimulating you, then it wouldn't be so difficult. within moments, jeno felt his body become tense and his thrusts more erratic, his movements stuttering even more as he felt you tighten around him.

it didn't take long for you both to cum and you feet him fill you with his hot seed, both moaning loudly. jeno gave a few more thrusts to make sure you were going to take everything he had to give you before pulling out of you.

jeno's body collapsed onto yours, both of you panting and struggling to catch your breath in the aftermath of your climax. the room was filled exclusively with the sounds of your labored breathing.

you could feel the hotness of his skin against yours, his heartbeat racing against your chest as he tried to regain some control over his own breathing. his weight pressed you into the mattress, his body limp and sated.

he buried his face against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. his grip on you loosened, his arms coming to rest by your sides as he lay on top of you, completely spent.

after a few moments of comfortable silence, jeno rolled off you and settled onto his back beside you. he broke the silence, his voice gentle, "how are you feeling, baby?" he asked, turning his head to look at you. he noticed the tired yet content smile on your face.

“blissful,” you answered with a light giggle, making him smile back at you.

good. he was going to focus on that now instead of thinking about how stupid he was for cumming inside you on the first fuck and how this could be a big problem in the future.

#ngl i was picturing haechan on that one #BUT ITS FINE WITH JENO TOO #jeno x reader #jeno smut #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct dream smut

755 notes · View notes

lillotte17 · 3 months

Text

*throws more Veilguard Banter into the gaping maw of Tumblr and then flees*

Solas: “I have another question, Varric. If I may?”

Varric: “Just the one?”

S: “For now. I must admit, I was surprised to see that you were the one they asked to make an attempt at dissuading me from completing my mission. Not to belittle our prior bonds of friendship, but if the intent was to send an agent who might presumably hold some power of persuasion over me, I…would have thought another candidate might have seemed like the more obvious choice.”

V: “Would it really have changed anything if she had been the one telling you to stop?”

S: “I…do not know. I should think not.”

V: “But at least you would have gotten to see her again, right?”

S: “Perhaps.”

V: “Heh, don’t you worry, Chuckles, I’m sure you’ll get your chance. The fact that I was here instead of her is more of a fluke than anything else. She was more than eager to follow up on the tip that led us to you, but then the kid insisted on tagging along, and you know how it is.”

S: “…kid?”

V: “Right, the kid. You probably haven’t seen him either.”

S: “…No. I have not. Although, I would have thought that there would have been news if the Herald of Andraste had… Well. I suppose there is wisdom in striving to keep such affairs private. I certainly have no right to voice an objection.”

V: “Why would you object to seeing the kid again?”

S: “Again? I… You are referring to Cole.”

V: *snorts* “Well, yeah. Who’d you think I was talking about?”

S: “Never mind.”

Rook: “So, Varric, do you really think the Inquisitor is going to show up?”

Varric: “Oh, don’t worry, she’ll be here. She’s been searching high and low for Chuckles for nearly a decade.”

R: *whistles* “And she never caught up to him in all that time?”

V: “Once. It…didn’t end well. After that, a few of our agents came close over the years, but it turns out that the world is a pretty big place, and tracking a lone elf with a network of magical transportation mirrors on his side is about as tricky as you’d expect. It’s even harder when you’ve got a notorious reputation and half of Thedas has seen portraits of your face. One whisper of the Herald of Andraste entering a city, and all our leads would vanish overnight.”

R: “But…I thought the two of them liked each other?”

V: “I think that made it worse, actually.”

Solas: “You do realize that I am standing right here?”

Solas: “For what it is worth, I am sorry about your Bianca, Varric.”

Varric: “Oh, you know, what’s an irreplaceable keepsake from the woman I can never be with in the grand scheme of things, anyway? At least you didn’t turn me to stone.”

S: “Your anger is justified. I do not expect your forgiveness, but I would apologize for my actions, none the less.”

V: “Look, if I were you, my forgiveness isn’t what I’d be worried about right now. Someone else has a much bigger bone to pick with you than I do.”

S: “I am not expecting her forgiveness, either.”

V: “So, you’re not even going to try?”

S: “And what, precisely, should I be trying, Master Tethras? This is hardly the sort of situation to be solved by a bouquet of flowers and a well-constructed poem.”

Rook: “Maybe you could send chocolates?”

V: “I was going to suggest groveling, actually.”

#Solas #Varric #Rook #solavellan #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #fic #i don't know that i feel like these flow as well as the first set #but i'm having fun with Varric dragging Solas through Uncomfortable Conversations

809 notes · View notes

miraculouslbcnreactions · 3 months

Note

This is probably small in the grand scheme of things, but how did Emilie being noble play any impact in the story at all?

I mean, I'd get it if it was just a small detail to help deepen Emilie's character, but why nobility of all things? I don't know, from what I'm seeing so far, the whole "Emilie renounced her noble title" shtick just feels worthless if it's not going to impact the story or add depth to Emilie's character (like maybe upbringing or personal values?).

I don't know. Like everything else, the noble part just feels shallow and means nothing to the story, especially for a character like Emilie, who is the plot device for the whole show. Any detail about her, like her personality and life story, is supposed to influence the story and characters one way or another, namely Hawkmoth since she's his driving force.

So what was the point?

For context, this ask is about Félix's play which says that Emilie gave up her title to be with Gabriel. I'm gonna give a slightly larger section of the transcript of the play for full context, but the relevant but is at the end of the last paragraph:

Félix: The king and queen's twins grew up, each day as different in heart as they were similar in body. The firstborn, curious and brazen, despised life at court and escaped at every opportunity. The younger daughter, well-behaved and respectful, did everything she could to please her parents, and stayed quietly in the castle. Félix: (as Mr. Graham de Vanily) Oh, my queen. Did we entrust our legacy to the right princess? Kagami: (as Mrs. Graham de Vanily) She will fall in line, eventually. Félix: Confident that she would settle down as she matured, the king and queen allowed the curious princess to leave to study beyond the sea in another kingdom. There, she immediately found true love in a humble tailor. Félix: The tailor was making clothes so magnificent that they revealed the beauty of the soul of anyone who wore them. Although it made her parents furious, the curious princess gave up her rank, her wealth and her kingdom to live a bohemian life with the tailor.

Story wise, I have no idea why any of this was added since it adds nothing to canon. It's not like this finally explains why Gabriel and Emilie are poor while Amelie is wealthy. Along similar lines, it's not like Amelie's title has ever mattered. Prior to this play, I don't think that we even knew that she had a title or that she was the younger sister. The play is all about explaining things that we never had reasons to question in the first place.

My best guess as to why the writers wrote this pointless backstory is that they wanted to make Emilie seem even more pure and perfect so they went with the tired old trope of a rich girl giving up material things for the sake of love and art because good pure women don't care about material things! Only nasty, shallow women care about money. (Way to play into sexist tropes, guys.)

There may also be cultural elements at play here given that France doesn't have the greatest history with nobility, so giving up a noble title may be seen as good and pure to a French writer, but I don't know enough about French culture to say that with any certainty. If anyone who reads this blog is French and would like to chime in, then feel free!

While we're on the topic of the play, I wanted to point out that the above quoted passage is why I say that the Graham de Vanily parents can be as kind or as abusive as you'd like to make them. It's incredibly vague and you can read into it whatever you want to read into it. Were they good loving parents who were just upset about their daughter living in poverty or were they miserable controlling classist who Emilie fled England to get away from? It's up to you because you can get both reads from this. The play commits to almost nothing of value. Politicians could take lessons from this impressive level of noncommittal writing.

A better version of the play would have focused on things that actually matter to canon like the details of finding the miraculous and/or Emilie learning she's sick, but you could only have those details if they were coming from Nathalie or Gabriel. Félix is a terrible choice for a character to tell us the show's backstory because he knows so little of it, thus the play focusing on his largely pointless backstory.

#blckwhtepersona #ml writing critical #ml writing salt #Side note but looking up transcripts for this seasons is a total nightmare #The episode names are so confusing I keep thinking the play was in “Revelation” but it's actually “Representation”#Whoever came up with the names for this season is at the top of my shit list

673 notes · View notes

cuephrase · 2 months

Text

Most Disliked Robin Results!!

at long last, (some of) the data you've all been waiting for.

for those of you who are new, i put out a questionnaire to gather data in the interest of discovering if my personal hypothesis that knowing someone's #1 Robin tells you nothing really, but knowing their top two, now that gives you insight. i have since closed that questionnaire, and we are in the data crunching stage. in this anon ask, anon was curious which Robin was getting the most dislike votes. i shared the current numbers w/o revealing who was getting which votes, and invited y'all to vote for which Robin you thought was getting the most dislike votes.

these were the results of the prediction poll:

before i share the final results, with 745 responses, a disclaimer:

the data pool is extremely small in the grand scheme of things!! this data cannot be used to make definitive claims about fandom at large. this is simply what we observed from the small group of fans, predominantly from tumblr, who filled out my questionnaire. cool? cool.

for our purposes, a "Stan" is someone who marked X Robin as their #1 fave Robin, and a "Fan" is someone who marked X Robin in their top two. additionally, whenever you see a top two Duo, for example, Dick & Damian, the character mentioned first is that person's #1. so Dick & Damian duos are distinct from Damian & Dick duos!!

for the non-math nerds, the 95% CI*, or 95% Confidence Interval is there to show that if we were to poll a random 745 responders again, from the same communities, we're about 95% sure the true value is somewhere in here range. *this is a bit of a simplification, but uh, i am not a math teacher + google is free. (i thought about finding a snappy youtube vid but as soon as they started talking math i zoned out whoops.)

finally a big, big thank you to @chinajousama and @tevyaa for their data-crunching + formatting!! none of this would have happened nearly as quickly (or successfully) without them!! 🫶

overall dislike

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

the most important takeaway here, imo, is that ~74% do not dislike any Robin. (shoutout to the Jason & Steph Duo who disliked Dick, Tim, and Damian tho, iconic.)

also, it is not at all what tumblr predicted!! tumblr predicted that dick would be least disliked (by virtue of him getting the least votes) and that's...about all that was correct from the prediction poll.

now how does this breakdown depending on Stans/Fans/Duos?

Stans' dislike (Y is responders #1 Robin)

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

"hey!!" you say, "the math is not mathing- if i add up the bottom row i get 774/104%, not 745/100%." correct!! this is because responders were able to dislike more than one Robin.

if we gave the percentages for each row of the very first chart, (the one that lays out how people voted in all the permutations), those percents would add up to 100%. but since we're only breaking it down between the Robins, there's overlap. 14.8% of everyone disliked Tim, that number is true. however, that 14.8% of Tim Dislikers includes people who also disliked other Robins- it's not the percentage of people who exclusively dislike Tim.

tl;dr: it doesn't add up, but the math is right, trust.

"okay, fine, but why don't you have a 95% CI for everyone?" if the sample group was too small to make a prediction (received less than 5 responses), we decided not to give one because there's simply not enough data to give one worth having. tl;dr, if there's a 0.00%* in the 95% CI chart, don't read into those stats too hard!!

Fans' dislike (Y is in responder's top duo)

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

already you can see some differences compared to the Stans' Dislikes- most percentages go up a bit, but a few go down.

now let's see what happens when we look at the breakdown over Duo's Dislike

Duo's dislike

raw count

converted to percentages with 95% CI

note the differences!! for instance, all Jason-first Duos are more likely to dislike Tim than the percentage given for Jason Stans, except for Jason & Tim duos, which duh, but also, Jason & Tim is the second most common Jason-first Duo, making up 25.3% of Jason-first Duos.

also!! Tim fans are the least likely to dislike overall, with 83.2% not disliking any Robin, however, Tim stans, specifically Tim & Dick Duos are the most likely to dislike Damian. (*cough* lingering Red Robin grudge, perhaps? *cough* Tim Stans: i can let a lot of shit go, but that. that i cannot. [i'm a Tim Stan, i'm allowed to tease them, okay?])

another crucial thing to point out here is that the percentages represent how likely Y Duo is to dislike X Robin. this distinction is significant because while it is correct to say that, (based off this data pool), Steph & Damian Duos are the most likely to dislike Tim, it is incorrect to say that most Tim dislikers are Steph & Damian Duos.

"huh??"

something, something squares and rectangles If you grab a random Steph & Damian Duo responder, they are the most likely out of all the Duo responders to dislike Tim. However, if you were to grab a random Tim Disliker responder, the odds of that responder being a Steph & Damian Duo are pretty low.

by number, Dick & Damian Duos make up the biggest portion of Tim Dislikers (26 out of 110 votes). however, they also make up the biggest portion of responders overall with 92 votes, whereas Steph & Damian only got 22.

(side note, if you're like, whoa but Dick & Jason won the tumblr poll- overall, there were more responders that had Dick and Jason in their top 2, however they were split 82/64 and Dick and Damian was split 92/29. those splits are also super interesting to see, bc some are pretty even and others aren't.)

okay, so what's the takeaway here? repeat after me: everybody 👏hates 👏 Tim!! 👏 loud incorrect buzzer yeah, no so the main takeaway here is that so far, it's looking like there is visible variation depending on a Stan/Fan's Duo compared to Stan/Fan opinion. also, that most Robin fans don't dislike a Robin. you can relax, odds are blorbo is not under attack. unless you're a Tim stan. jk jk, i'm sorry, him having 14.8% dislikability is just hysterical to me, like do you see the social distancing, Jason is the second most disliked and Tim has more than double his numbers LMAO.

especially bc that 14.8% is just like, out of all responders, how likely Tim is to be disliked, right, follow me here, hehe. 110 of 223 dislike votes cast were for Tim, right, so of the dislike votes cast there is a ~49.3% chance that a dislike vote is a dislike Tim vote.

but!! if we condense that 223 (dislike votes cast/remember that 1 responder could dislike multiple) to 194 (the actual number of responders who disliked), then it's 110 out of 194, so if a Robin fan dislikes anyone, there is a ~56.7% that they dislike Tim.

try not to laugh at that, i dare you.

now, as a Tim stan, i think this makes sense because out of all the Robins, Tim has the most on panel interaction with every other Robin compared to the others, so like, if any Robin is going to show up and annoy you, odds are it's Timbo. factor in fanfic trends and uh...look, do i love Tim? yes. (i love them all, but that's beside the point.) do i think he's annoying af. also yes. it's part of the appeal, i mean hot people get it, i mean this data is not shocking to me but it is, clearly, deeply amusing. that being said, you might be under attack, because responders were wayyyy more likely to find a Robin Stan annoying than they were to dislike a Robin hehehe. sorry, sorry, i swear i'm not trying to shart shit. i mean, start shit. that was an honest typo but i'm so tired rn and it's funny so i'm leaving it, forgive me. what are your thoughts? any of this surprising to you, or does it track with your predictions? tysm for participating if you responded to the questionnaire!! and if you didn't, no worries, enjoy the Findings. please remember that the goal of this questionnaire/sharing the Findings is not to grade other fans on whether they're "good"/"bad"- discuss to your heart's content but let's try and keep the wank/bad faith takes to a minimum, yeah? thank youuuuu

also enjoy this at a glance graph!! the bars are error bars, they represent that 95% CI :)

anyways!! i just threw a ton of data at you, if there's anything you would like to see me elaborate on/any questions you have, please feel free to send me an ask and we'll do our best to deliver!! there's truly so much to unpack here.

#dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #stephanie brown #robin poll

417 notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 11 months

Note

Hi!! I always see fics of Charles being the one who isn’t believed he’s in a relationship (and i eat it all up cause it’s such a fun trope 😌) but what if it’s the reader’s turn. Like she’s a normal university student who always talks about her boyfriend but her friends and her fellow students just don’t believe her so Charles decides to surprise her and just be the proof. Thanks in advance!!

Daydream

Charles Leclerc x engineering student!Reader

Summary: You are living the dream … except no one actually believes that your boyfriend is really your boyfriend

You walk into class after the winter break with a sun-kissed glow and a new watch on your wrist.

Your friend Matteo notices it immediately and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow, that has to be the most realistic looking fake I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?” He asks with a grin.

You roll your eyes but smile back. “It’s not a fake. Charles gave it to me for Christmas.”

Your friends barely give you a chance to get the last word out before they burst out laughing. You feel your cheeks flush in embarrassment and annoyance.

“Oh sure, I’m certain that your very real boyfriend, Charles Leclerc the Formula 1 driver, just happened to give you a €340,000 Richard Mille for Christmas,” your other friend Livia jokes.

“Come on guys, I’m serious! Charles and I have been dating for months now. We met when I was interning with Ferrari last year,” you insist.

But your friends just keep chuckling and shaking their heads in disbelief.

“If you were really dating an F1 driver, you would be posting cute couple-y pics all over Instagram. There’s no way anyone in that position could resist showing off a little,” Matteo argues.

You let out an exasperated sigh. You and Charles agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye for now to avoid media scrutiny. But your friends just see this as further proof that you’re making it all up.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed to be seen with an engineering student,” Livia quips.

That stings a bit, even though you know she doesn’t mean for it to.

You slump down in your chair, absentmindedly fiddling with the exquisite watch on your wrist. You hadn’t realized it was worth so much when Charles gave it to you. The way his eyes lit up when you unwrapped it on Christmas morning was priceless. He was so excited to spoil you in any way he could. And now your friends think it’s just a cheap fake.

Charles is always doing ridiculously romantic things like flying you out on a private jet just so you can spend any free weekends together and sending you bouquets of roses bigger than you are. But no one believes that he’s really your boyfriend. To them, it’s all just part of an elaborate scheme you’ve concocted.

You met Charles when you were one of ten engineering graduate students selected for a prestigious internship with Scuderia Ferrari. You spent six months working in Maranello, learning from some of motorsport’s brightest minds.

Charles took an interest in you immediately. He would come by your workstation in the aerodynamics lab, peppering you with thoughtful questions about your projects. You would discuss aerodynamic principles and simulations for hours. Even ex-team principal Mattia Binotto said the two of you had a visible “synergy.”

Your internship had since ended but your relationship with Charles continued. You tried to play it cool at first, not wanting to seem overly eager. The day after you went back to study in Milan, he asked you out to dinner. Your first date lasted five hours as you talked endlessly about everything under the sun. You were amazed at how you never ran out of things to discuss.

Over the next few months, you grew closer and closer. Charles would take weekend trips to Milan just to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. He told you that you grounded him and reminded him that there was more to life than racing.

When he asked you to be his girlfriend after inviting you to the Monaco Grand Prix, you were shocked but ecstatic. You knew then that your hectic schedules won’t make it easy but Charles is unlike anyone you’ve ever known. He makes your heart race faster than a V12 engine.

You’re shaken from your reminiscing as Matteo waves a hand in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N! Come on, tell us where you got the watch. I want to get one too! It looks so identical to the real thing that we could probably sell it to some suckers on eBay.”

You shake your head with a huff. “Forget it, I’ll tell you all about my ‘fake’ boyfriend another time.”

For now, you’re just counting down the days until you can see Charles again.

No matter what anyone else may think, the two of you know that your love is real.

***

You’re humming along to your playlist as you drive Charles’ Purosangue on the winding roads leading to Milan. The SUV handles like a dream and you’re thoroughly enjoying the feeling of having 715 horsepower under your feet.

Your own trusty Fiat had broken down while visiting Charles in Monaco over the weekend. He insisted you take the Purosangue for the almost four hour drive back rather than waiting for a rental. You tried to decline at first, anxious about driving such an expensive vehicle. But Charles wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I don’t like the idea of you driving all that way alone in some random rental car,” he argued. “This will be much safer and more comfortable for you, mon amour.”

You finally relented, unable to resist when he turned on the charm. Charles gave you a lengthy tutorial of all the car’s features before sending you off with a lengthy kiss and plans for your next visit.

As you pull into the Politecnico di Milano parking lot, you realize just what a scene you’re about to cause. The other students are used to seeing you in your almost ten-year-old Fiat, not a glittering metallic Ferrari.

Sure enough, jaws drop and whispers follow you as you step out of the driver’s seat. Matteo quickly spots you from across the lot and comes jogging over eagerly.

“No way! Is that ... is that a Purosangue?” He gapes. “What are you doing with that?”

“Funny story actually. My car broke down when I was visiting Charles in Monaco last weekend. So he let me borrow this while mine is in the shop.”

Matteo stares at you blankly. “Visiting Charles ... in Monaco?” He throws his head back and laughs. “Your dedication to this bit is honestly impressive, Y/N. But there’s no way that the Charles Leclerc just gave you his Ferrari to drive back to Milan.”

You sigh but you’re determined not to let Matteo get under your skin this time. “Believe what you want. But I had an amazing weekend with my boyfriend before heading back to reality today.”

You head into class, Matteo trailing behind you, still shaking his head in disbelief. Livia immediately jumps up when she sees you.

“Shut up, is that really a Ferrari outside?” She gasps. You nod nonchalantly and take your seat.

“Y/N here is trying to convince us that her boyfriend let her borrow it over the weekend,” Matteo says with an exaggerated eye roll.

“You do realize those start at €390,000 right?” Livia says. “Why on earth would Charles Leclerc of all people let you drive his brand new ultra luxury SUV around?”

You throw your up hands in indignation. “Maybe because he’s my boyfriend and he wanted to help me out! Why is that so hard for you guys to believe?”

But instead of listening to you, other classmates join the conversation and chime in with their own theories about why you suddenly have a Ferrari.

“Maybe she rented it to play a prank on everyone,” suggests Liam.

“No way,” Eva argues. “Maybe she got a big inheritance? Some distant rich relative died and left their fortune to Y/N?”

You groan internally. But before you can respond, your professor walks in and instructs everyone to take their seats.

Through the lecture, you catch people whispering and pointing discreetly at you. By the time class ends, you just want to go home and video chat with Charles about your frustrating day.

As you pack up your things, Livia comes over. “So have you thought about what you’ll tell people when they see you getting out of that Ferrari for the foreseeable future?” She asks.

You blink at her. “The truth? That Charles loaned it to me while my car is in the shop,” you say slowly.

She pats your shoulder. “Come on Y/N, the joke was funny at first but now it’s just getting sad. No one actually believes that you’re dating Charles Leclerc and driving his cars around. Just tell us where you really got it so we can all move on from this weird fantasy life you’ve constructed.”

You stand up abruptly, shoving your notebook in your bag. “It’s not a fantasy,” you spit sharply. “It’s my real life and I’m sorry you can’t accept that. But I don’t need to convince you or anyone else.”

You storm out of the classroom, blinking back frustrated tears.

Pulling out your phone, you text Charles.

I miss you. My friends still think I’m making this all up. I can’t wait to see you in Spain next race.

Charles texts back immediately.

Not as much as I miss you. Don’t worry about what other people think, we know our love is real.

And you looked so hot driving my car 😉

You smile down at your phone, comforted by his words. You may never get your friends and classmates to believe your relationship, but as long as you and Charles know the truth, that’s all that truly matters.

Sliding back behind the wheel of the shiny Ferrari, you feel your stress melt away. Who cares what anyone thinks? You have an amazing boyfriend who trusts you with his most prized possessions. And someday when you and Charles are ready to share your love with the world, everyone’s jaws will drop in disbelief.

For now, you’ll just enjoy the ride.

***

It’s nearly time for summer break and you’re sitting outside with Matteo, Livia, and some other friends, soaking up the sunshine.

“We should all go backpacking around the Greek islands in August!” Suggests Livia. “We could start in Athens, then ferry to Mykonos, Santorini, and end in Crete. Who’s in?”

Everyone voices their enthusiasm for the idea. Then Matteo turns to you. “How about it, Y/N? Take a break from your ‘boyfriend’ and come adventuring with us common folk.”

You take a deep breath and stir your coffee, debating on how to break the news. “That sounds amazing but I already have plans for the summer.”

“Oh yeah? Going home to see your family?” Matteo asks.

You take a deep breath. “Actually, Charles and I are going on a vacation for a few weeks.”

Your friends erupt into laughter.

“A holiday? With Charles Leclerc?” Livia giggles. “Girl, your fantasies are really taking off lately!”

You frown in annoyance. “I’m serious. Charles chartered a yacht and everything. I wish you could see how excited he is for our first big trip together. He’s been planning it for months.”

Livia pats your hand gently. “Sweetie, we know you’re probably feeling financial pressure with school and all. You don’t have to lie about going off on some glamorous vacation. If you can’t afford to join us in Greece, just say so.”

You stare at her in disbelief. “This isn’t about money. Charles and I have been looking forward to this since the start of the season! I’m sorry that our relationship is still so unbelievable to you.”

Your aggravation must show on your face because Matteo holds up his hands appeasingly. “Look, I’m sure whatever you end up doing this summer will be great. But clearly this whole Charles charade has gone too far. It’s time to come clean.”

You stand up abruptly, grabbing your things. “I don’t need to come clean about anything. My relationship with Charles is real, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

You storm off fuming. Your friends’ outright refusal to even entertain the notion that you could be dating Charles is so patronizing and demeaning. Do they really think so little of you?

That night, you vent to Charles over FaceTime about the conversation.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard for them to believe me! I know we’re not exactly a super conventional couple but it’s like they think I’m delusional,” you sigh.

Charles gives you a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry they’re being like this, mon cœur. But try not to let it upset you too much. We know the truth about our love. That’s what matters.”

You nod, cheered as always by his encouragement. “You’re right. I’m just so excited for our trip! Sailing around the Mediterranean with you all to myself? It’s going to be a dream.”

Charles grins. “Oh I can’t wait either. The yacht has a hot tub on deck under the stars. I want to make sure it’s just as magical as you deserve.”

You spend the rest of the call discussing your vacation itinerary and plans for when your families will join you in Sardinia.

Charles reassures you again not to worry about what others think.

“Soon we’ll share our love with the world. But for now, let’s just focus on us,” he says softly.

By the time you hang up, your frustration has faded. Matteo and Livia may not believe you but in a few short weeks you’ll be cruising the bright blue Mediterranean with the man of your dreams.

The day finally comes for your trip to begin. As Charles helps you aboard the sleek yacht, you forget all about your friends. They don’t know him like you do. And they definitely don’t know how he kisses you goodbye at the airport or the special way his eyes light up when he says “I love you.”

This vacation will be everything you’ve been dreaming of. And you know Charles will do whatever it takes to make it unforgettable.

As the yacht pulls away from the marina, the only thing on your mind is the blissful weeks ahead with your love. Everything else fades blissfully into the background.

***

You walk with the group of engineering students through the halls of Maranello, thrilled to be back at the Ferrari factory. You did your internship here last year but walking around still feels surreal.

As you pass the simulator room, you hear someone call your name.

“Y/N! Hold on a second!”

You turn and see Gianni, one of the simulator engineers you befriended during your internship. He jogs over holding a sleek black ring.

“Charles left this after his session the other day,” he presses the familiar band into your palm. “Can you get it back to him?” Gianni asks.

You grin, turning the ring over in your hands. Charles hates taking off his Oura fitness tracker but has to for simulator runs.

“Of course, I’ll give it back to him when I’m in Monaco.”

You turn back to your friends, expecting this to be the final push they need to believe you.

But Livia just rolls her eyes. “Come on Y/N, he is obviously in on this whole charade. I bet you convinced him to play along!”

The other students nod, chuckling. Your smile disappears.

“What? No, Gianni and I really worked together when I interned here! This isn’t some weird prank,” you insist.

Matteo pats your shoulder condescendingly. “It’s alright, you don’t have to keep pretending with us. We get it, you want people to think you’re dating Charles Leclerc. But it’s getting kind of sad now.”

You clench your fists in frustration as the group moves on. Why are they being so stubborn? You clearly know people here and have a real connection to Charles.

When you pass the aerodynamics lab, your mood lifts a bit. Your favorite team leader, Fabio, is there working on computational fluid dynamics simulations.

“Y/N! So great to see you back here!” He greets you warmly and pulls you into a friendly hug.

You chat with him for a few minutes, explaining about the visit. As you say goodbye, he adds, “Tell Charles I said hi when you see him this weekend!”

But Matteo just scoffs as you walk away. “Let me guess — he’s in on it too?”

You don’t even bother responding this time, too irritated. Why should you have to convince your so-called friends of anything? You don’t owe them proof when they’re clearly set on ignoring it.

As the tour concludes, Livia pulls you aside, her expression serious.

“Look Y/N, we’re a bit worried about you. All these stories ... it just seems unhealthy. We think you should talk to someone,” she says gently.

You gape at her. “Unhealthy? Because I mentioned my boyfriend a few times on a trip to his workplace? You guys are unbelievable.”

Livia frowns. “Come on, it’s more than that and you know it. The jewelry, the car, the traveling ... it’s all an elaborate fantasy life. We just want what’s best for you.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you. Livia reaches for your arm but you jerk away.

“You want what’s best for me? Then start believing me! I love Charles and he loves me. I don’t need therapy just because you refuse to accept the facts,” you snap.

Livia looks taken aback. You don’t wait for her response, just turn on your heel and stalk away fuming.

You pull out your phone and call Charles, needing to vent. When he picks up, the sound of his voice instantly calms you.

Charles listens patiently as you recount the horrible field trip. “I’m so sorry they’re being like this, ma belle,” he soothes. “But you handled it well. Don’t let them make you question yourself.”

You sigh. “I just wish they could see how happy you make me. I hate that our love seems so unbelievable.”

“It’s their loss for not seeing what we have,” Charles replies. “Soon everyone will realize that I only have eyes for you.”

You chat for a while longer, feeling reassured. Your friends’ doubt used to make you sad but now it mostly just angers you.

You know the truth. This weekend when you fly to Monaco and fall asleep in Charles’ arms, what Matteo and Livia think won’t matter one bit.

The only thing that matters is the love between you and Charles.

And one day, both of you will make sure the whole world knows that it’s as real as it gets.

***

It’s Friday morning and you’re stuck in your Principles of Advanced Aerodynamics lecture, anxiously watching the clock.

The Italian Grand Prix weekend starts today but your professor refused to excuse you from class early. Which means you’re missing out on precious hours with Charles before free practice later today.

You resigned yourself to not seeing him until tonight when the classroom door bursts open.

And there stands Charles, looking unfairly handsome in a Ferrari branded polo and jeans.

“Sorry to interrupt professor,” Charles flashes a charming grin. “But I’m going to need to steal Y/N away for the weekend.”

He shoots you a playful wink and your heart melts.

Your classmates erupt in excited whispers as they realize that the Charles Leclerc is standing in front of them. Your professor’s lips are moving but no discernible sound comes out.

The professor struggles to find words for a moment. “You’re ... you’re Charles Leclerc!” He stammers.

Charles smiles humbly. “Yes sir. And as I’m sure you know, the free practice for the Italian Grand Prix starts today. I’ll need to have my good luck charm there with from the very start.”

He extends his hand to you.

You grab your bag, legs wobbling as you make your way to the front. Charles wraps a supportive arm around your waist.

“You see professor, Y/N is my biggest supporter. My results improve dramatically when she’s present. So surely any Ferrari fan would agree that she must be trackside all weekend?” Charles urges charmingly.

The professor nods mutely before seeming to find his voice again. “Yes, of course! We certainly want the best results for Ferrari here at home. Y/N, you’re excused for the day. If you give me just a moment ...” He rummages through his bag with shaking hands and pulls out a Ferrari phone case.

“Would you mind?” He asks sheepishly.

“Not at all,” Charles smiles, taking the case and scrawling his signature across it with a provided permanent marker.

Your professor looks ready to faint. “Thank you so much. Enjoy the race weekend. Forza Ferrari, sempre!”

Trying not to laugh, you quickly gather up the rest of your things. Your friends watch wide-eyed as Charles takes your hand.

“Ready, mon amour?” He asks.

When you nod, he sweeps you into his arms and kisses you passionately in front of the entire class.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips.

You cling to him, dizzy from the kiss. “Not as much as I missed you. I can’t believe you came here just to pick me up.”

Charles caresses your cheek. “I’ll always come for you. Now let’s get going to Monza. I want to show you how much I appreciated your good luck texts before practice.”

He keeps your hand clasped firmly in his as you make your way outside. When you glance back through the windows, your classmates are still staring after you in stunned disbelief.

Once you’re in the familiar 488 Pista, you finally let out the laugh you’ve been suppressing. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces? I thought Professor Mancini was actually going to faint.”

Charles grins. “I know dramatic gestures aren’t usually my style but I wanted them to see once and for all that you’re mine.”

He lifts your intertwined hands to his lips. “No more doubting our love after today. And I meant what I said — you’re my good luck charm, Y/N. Having you here this weekend means everything.”

You smile up at him softly. “I’m just happy I can be here to support you.”

He kisses you deeply, still parked outside of the Politecnico, not caring who sees. And you know without a doubt that this amazing man and your once-in-a-lifetime romance are completely real.

The rest of the day flies by in a blur of excitement. In between practice sessions, Charles takes any chance he can to steal moments alone with you in his driver’s room.

His tender kisses and whispered reminders of his love send your heart racing faster than an F1 car.

***

It’s race day in Monza and you’re walking through the paddock hand-in-hand with Charles. His physio and press officer trail behind you both as Charles waves to the cheering Tifosi in the stands.

Suddenly, you hear voices calling your name.

You look over to see Matteo and Livia leaning over the fence, trying to get your attention.

“Y/N! We’re so sorry we didn’t believe you!” Livia shouts.

“Please come talk to us!” Yells Matteo. “We feel awful about everything!”

You stop short, conflicting emotions swirling through you. Charles senses your hesitation and squeezes your hand supportively.

“What do you want to do, mon cœur?” He asks. “I can try to get them paddock passes last minute if you want to talk.”

You bite your lip. Part of you wants them to witness first-hand the depth of your relationship with Charles. To show them just how wrong they were to mock and belittle your love.

But another part of you is still hurt by their stubborn refusal to believe you all this time. Do they really deserve VIP paddock access after the way they treated you?

“I don’t know, Charles ... they were so patronizing about our relationship for so long. I’m not sure they deserve the reward of paddock access after demeaning my feelings,” you reply.

Charles nods thoughtfully. “I understand. It’s completely up to you, of course. But it could be nice for them to see up close just how real our love is. Watching us together will help it finally sink in.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips. Charles does make an appealing case ...

“Alright, I can’t say no to that adorable face,” you laugh and kiss his cheek. “But maybe keep them waiting a bit first as payback!”

Charles grins mischievously. “I think that can be arranged.” He pulls you in for a passionate kiss, dipping you backwards dramatically.

The crowd erupts in cheers and whistles, a wild and beautiful sea of Rosso Corsa.

When you come up for air, you see your friends watching open-mouthed from the stands. Charles winks at them over your shoulder before leading you away, his arm curled firmly around your waist.

Several hours later, Matteo and Livia finally receive their paddock passes. They rush over to you right away, profusely apologizing again.

“Seeing you and Charles together in class was unbelievable, but this ...” Matteo trails off, darting around at the bustling paddock with wide eyes. “You really are dating an F1 driver!”

You exchange an amused look with Charles. “Yes, that is what I’ve been trying to tell you for many months now,” you laugh.

Livia hugs you tightly. “I’m so sorry for ever doubting you. But after today, we’ll never question your relationship again.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulder. “I hope after witnessing our love up close, you will see there is nothing Y/N wouldn’t do for me, just as I would do the same for her.” He gazes down at you tenderly and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You and Charles both laugh as your friends turn red. “We’re really happy for you two,” mumbles Matteo. “Hopefully we can all start over now.”

Charles smiles kindly. “Of course! Y/N’s happiness is what matters most to me and I know how important her friends are to her.”

You feel yourself falling even more in love with this man and his endless patience and compassion.

The race keeps you on the edge of your seat from start to finish. When Charles takes the top step on the podium, you and your friends scream loudly enough to be heard in Milan.

That night at the celebration, Charles gives a sweet toast about how your love inspires him.

Matteo and Livia watch with tears in their eyes.

“Wow, when you said your boyfriend was romantic, you really meant it,” Livia whispers.

“I told you, Charles is one-of-a-kind. I’m so lucky to be his and to be loved by him.”

Charles comes over and pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your hair. “I’m the lucky one, mon ange.”

He stops and takes both of your hands, gazing into your eyes intently. “I never want you to doubt what we have, Y/N. You are everything to me. My whole world.”

Matteo shakes his head in wonder as he takes in the pure love clearly shining in both of your eyes. “We’re so sorry we ever doubted that what you have is real. Seeing you together, it’s obvious your love is straight out of a fairytale.”

You grin up at Charles, your heart overflowing. With his kisses still lingering on your lips and surrounded by friends who finally believe, you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Now everyone can see your love just as clearly as the two of you always have.

***

Today is the day you’ve been working towards for years — your graduation from the Politecnico di Milano with your Laurea Magistrale in Aeronautical Engineering.

The auditorium is packed with proud families as you line up with your classmates, dressed in formal robes and caps. Charles insisted on coming, despite it being right before the start of a triple header. And having him here means the world to you.

When your name is called, you grin widely as Charles’ cheers rise above the polite applause of the audience. He gives you a standing ovation, not caring that he is blocking everyone’s view.

His pride and support brings happy tears to your eyes. You blow him a discreet kiss and see him pretend to catch it, pressing his hand to his heart.

After the ceremony ends, you rush straight into Charles’ arms. He swings you around then kisses you deeply. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour! All of your hard work has paid off.”

You hug him tight, overwhelmed with emotions. “Having you here today, supporting me every step ... it’s the best gift I could ask for.”

Charles strokes your hair tenderly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. But I do have one more surprise ...”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope with the unmistakable Ferrari seal.

Handing it to you, Charles bounces excitedly on his toes. “Go on, open it!”

With shaking hands, you open the letter and read the words offering you a position as a Junior Aerodynamics Engineer with Scuderia Ferrari.

“Charles, what ... how ...” you stammer in shock.

He smiles widely. “Enrico Cardile was very impressed with the work you did during your internship as well as your thesis.”

You continue staring at the letter. “But I don’t want special treatment just because I’m your girlfriend. I want to earn a position at Ferrari on my own merits,” you say uncertainly.

Charles grasps your hands. “Mon ange, you know I would never influence the team’s decisions. They want you because of your skills, not our relationship. I only asked if I could deliver the news as a graduation gift when I found out.”

You bite your lip. “It’s just ... I don’t want anyone thinking that I didn’t earn this.”

“Listen to me,” Charles quickly gets serious. “You are the most talented, driven, and intelligent person I know. You’ve worked relentlessly for this and Ferrari recognizes that. Please don’t doubt for one second that you deserve this.”

His sincere words dissolve your concerns. He’s right — you interned successfully with the team already. You can do this.

You throw your arms around him again. “Then I accept the offer! I’m going to be a Formula 1 aerodynamicist!”

“You will be incredible, Y/N. I can’t wait to see you thriving there. You’re going to change the world with that beautiful mind of yours.”

You cling to him, overwhelmed with emotions. “I couldn’t have done any of this without your love and support. You gave me the strength to keep pursuing my dreams.”

Charles tips your forehead to his, eyes shining. “And you gave me the gift of true love. My life is so much richer with you in it.”

He kisses you until you’re both smiling too widely to continue. Taking his hand, you turn to look out at the gathered families, classmates, and professors mingling around.

Just months ago, no one believed your relationship with Charles was real. But here you stand, ready to take on the world together.

Your storybook romance has grown into an unshakable partnership.

As Charles squeezes your hand, you know that the next chapter of your lives will be even better. You can’t wait to build your future with this amazing man — both on and off the track.

***

10 years later

You take a deep breath as you walk into the familiar lecture hall at the Politecnico di Milano. Looking out at the eager young students, you remember sitting in their place not so long ago. Back when you were just starting your engineering studies, never dreaming you would one day return as a guest lecturer.

Charles insisted on coming with you today and you scan the room until you spot him sitting inconspicuously in the back row, trying his hardest not to draw attention to himself. He gives you an encouraging thumbs up.

“Good morning, everyone. For those who don’t know me, I am Y/N Leclerc — Head of Aero Development at Scuderia Ferrari and former student right here at Polimi.”

As you start your lecture on the aerodynamic theory behind Ferrari’s latest championship-winning car, you easily slip back into the familiar rhythms of university life.

Discussing complex simulations and wind tunnel testing with these eager minds reminds you of the days you were in their shoes.

You can hardly believe it’s been 10 years since you sat in this very room, never imagining the incredible journey ahead.

After joining Ferrari, you and Charles found ways to balance your personal and professional lives through compassion and communication.

Winning your first World Championship together was a euphoric blur of champagne and ecstatic team celebrations. Being the first female Director of Aerodynamics in Formula 1 was daunting but Charles never stopped believing in you.

When he got down on one knee after winning in Monza and asked you to be his wife, it was one of the happiest moments of your life. Planning a wedding while chasing championships was no easy feat but your passion for racing and each other kept you going.

Now, five championships later, you’ve settled into a blissful rhythm as partners both on and off the track. There were tough times and painful losses but coming home to each other’s arms helped erase the remnants of any bad day.

As you wrap up the lecture and open the floor to questions, a female student raises her hand. “As a woman working in F1, what’s the best advice you can give aspiring engineers like me?”

You smile, thinking back on your own self-doubts starting out. “Don’t be afraid to take up space and make your voice heard,” you tell her. “Formula 1 needs more brilliant women like you. If you love the science and the cars, pursue this career fiercely no matter what anyone says.”

The student thanks you excitedly and you make a mental note to talk to Charles about establishing an engineering scholarship for female students.

After the lecture finishes, Charles comes up to greet you with a tender kiss. “You were incredible up there. I’m so proud to call you my wife.”

You kiss him back, still just as dizzyingly in love as that first date all those years ago. “I couldn’t have done it without my biggest cheerleader here supporting me.”

As you walk hand-in-hand back to the car, you think about how far you’ve come together.

A storybook romance, successful careers, and most importantly, an unbreakable partnership built on love and trust.

When Charles said your love would overcome any doubt, you never imagined how right he would be.

But now, as the Italian sunlight glints off your matching wedding bands, you know the best is still yet to come.

3K notes · View notes

charmercharm3r · 9 months

Text

doing everything together

Masterlist

wc: ??

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, bf!chan x afab!reader, porn no plot, shower sex, piv, oral (f receiving), cream pie, he’s so cute i love him

definitely not proofread, entirely self indulgent lol

☆ﾟ

He was very particular about the bathroom. Chan didn't care so much about the house hold appliances when you were looking for apartments together, except for the shower. This was the one area he showed true interest in, so you let him take the reigns entirely when he said he wanted to change the shower head from the original that came with the place.

You didn't know what he had chosen, only that he mentioned how good the water pressure was with the silliest, horniest smirk you'd ever seen.

As soon as the shower head he ordered arrived and he installed it, Chan wasted no time in getting you stripped and soaked. You got lucky that there was a shower bench, which was not what had initially drew you to choosing this apartment, but it was definitely a perk.

Lips everywhere, hands roaming, taking in the warmth of his body and the steaming shower, you couldn't help but giggle at how excited Chan was to show you the reason he chose this specific shower head. You broke away from his eager kisses to glance at where it was mounted, seeing the extra cable connected to a handheld head.

"That seems great for hosing down the walls," you thought for practical uses, not looking any closer and trying to capture his lips once again. Chan redirected your kiss to his cheek and grabbed the handheld.

"Just look," he asked, to which you playfully groaned into his neck before looking. There was an extra hole in the very top and a switch on the side. Chan reached up to the mounted shower and twisted something to turn on the handheld, then made eye contact with you while wiggling his eyebrows. Just as he did, he tipped the handheld towards the ground and flipped the switch. A stronger stream shot out from the top, and it all clicked.

You didn't get a word out before he was kissing you again and blindly leading you to sit on the all-the-more convenient bench. God, you would be dripping if you weren't already wet, Chan sliding to his knees in front of you. Of all things he wanted to be involved in, this was entirely unexpected-- though, not unwelcome whatsoever. He made himself comfortable, thick lips never straying from your skin even whist spreading your knees and fingertips toeing across your thighs.

Just to hurry things along-- you were impatient now that his grand scheme had been revealed-- you scoot forward, pushing your exposed cunt towards him hoping to entice him. Chan laughed into the meaty flesh of your thigh, lightly biting wherever he could and fully appreciating your newfound enthusiasm. Not that you weren't before, just even more now that there was a new and potentially mind-blowing sensation that he could inflict onto you.

He took your hand and let the stream from the handheld hit your palm, asking, "good pressure?"

"If you don't put that between my legs right now--"

"Okay, okay," he giggled again, "needy tonight, hm?"

"Yeah, and it's your fault," you emphasized your point by hooking your knees over his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his head.

"If I had known this is all it would take to have you borderline trying to mesh bodies, I would've upgraded the shower at our old place a long time ago." His hands kneaded at your love handles to displace his own needs for now, too excited to try this almost as much as you were. The sight of his slender, pretty fingers so close to your core was maddening and you failed holding back a slight rut of your hips.

"I would love to live inside you, actually."

"I say the same thing every time I see this pretty pussy of yours, baby." Chan wasted no more time and practically fell into you, first his tongue licking a cautionary stripe up your center, then suctioning his lips around your clit when you involuntarily threaded your fingers through his hair. He moaned into you, vibrations of his constant vocal pleasure making the introductory feeling even better.

This was just a warm up for him, just the prologue to the real fun he'd have when he thought you could handle the lovely pressure of the handheld shower head. Part of you wished he'd give it to you already, but another part never gets tired of how good he is with his mouth. If Chan could, he'd live between your legs and have you for all three meals of the day. And what a blessing those lips are, already having you curling your toes and tugging at his wet curls within the three minutes he'd been on his knees.

Slowly, his fingers tiptoed their way to join his mouth, spreading you wider with two fingers for more access for his lips, then gently moving to circle them around your entrance. Your head fell back against the tiled shower wall, whimpers not ceasing anytime soon.

Just as you were gonna ask him for more, he pulled away, but not without replacing what he'd stole. Chan pushed two fingers into you right when the stream grazed your clit, lightly and calculated as not to do too much. He glared up at you with concern when you slammed your head back against the wall much harder than before, Chan stammered to pull away but backtracked when you cried his name, "don't you fucking dare."

"I do love when you boss me around, darling," he replied, sarcasm dripping from his perfect lips. The teasing came with retaliated pleasure, maneuvering the stream so it hit your clit more straight on. You moaned louder, shuddering and wanting to pull away at how much more intense the feeling was than before. "If you're gonna talk like that to me, then take it like a fucking champ. Don't let me down."

Oh, it was a challenge, now. There was no backing down, you were gonna be fucking good and take whatever he wanted to give just for the sake of being able to rub it in his face later that he couldn't break you. Just don't let him see how badly you wished it was his cock in you instead-- that'd be the real tipping point.

"That's right, baby, I knew you could do it," he praised, mouthing and teething at the flesh of your thigh, slight pinching making the pain mix with the pleasure much, much too well. His fingers started to slowly move, adding the needed friction from within and it had you sob, just once. "Hm, I don't think this is enough."

Oh no, don't say it. "Maybe you need something bigger."

Fuck, he's gonna say it. "Think you can take my cock, too, baby?"

And you're gonna say yes. "Please, yes, please."

Chan pulled the stream for a second to give you a comforting, pillowy soft kiss to your clit and stood. He hung heavy, swaying and glistening and so mouth watering. Somehow, everything was just the right height for him to easily find his reddening tip at your hole and push in. The stretch, a welcome sizzling burn that soon turned into nothing but tingling euphoria, coupled with the returned stimulation of the jet stream, you were floored. It was written all over your face.

He laughed and hid his face in your neck as you adjusted to the all of the new feelings. "God, stop fucking clenching like that," he whined, sending a light slap to the outside of your thigh, which only made you clench harder. He slapped again, a little harder, then groaned when your whole body twitched. "You're killing me here."

"Then make me cum already, unless you wanna die a slow, wonderfully warm and wet death."

"I love when you talk dirty to me."

"Chris, shut up and fuck me."

He shrugged, pecking your lips lovingly and resting his hand on your hip bone to keep the stream pointed just right on your nerves. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew the spot that made you want to claw out of your skin because the pleasure was too great, and he hit it every time. Only now, he could fuck you at the same time.

And fuck you, he did. He was slow and precise, just as ever, wanting to hit the right spots that caused you to contracted hard and practically milk him, that was his favorite feeling. Getting this little appliance did half the job for him, all he had to do was hold it steady and move his hips.

The sight above you was heavenly, his wet abs right in front of your face while his soaked curls would occasionally drip onto your face and cause you to look up, then be met with his sculpted features. God-- if there is a god-- it could very well look like Chan. The way he looked at you could make you cum by that alone.

It took another four minutes, tops, of him barely rocking into you, tapping at the soft spot within you and keeping the stream satisfying the pulsing along your center. You reached up for his biceps, lightly scratching and pulling him down for a slow, sloppy kiss, mumbling against his lips how close you already were. "Whenever you want, darling," he cooed back, entirely satiated already.

Chan did what he always did when you were close, and that was rapid fire. He quickly shook his wrist to let the stream run over your clit, back and forth, the feeling getting more and more intense every split second it left and returned tenfold. Until you were clawing down his forearm and abdomen, back arching against the tile with a last cry of his name and a string of whimpers.

Another minute passed before the oxygen returned to your brain and you could think clearly again. Chan was looking down at you with his forehead leaning against the tile as well, buried as deep in you as he could go and a silly smile plastered along his lips. Oh, how you loved his lips.

"I think our water bill is gonna be incredibly high," you joked, kissing the darkening red lines along his wrist.

"Just means we'll have to shower together. Y'know, to save water."

"I won't complain about that." Chan's eyes crinkled as he came down to press a kiss to your forehead in return.

"Doing everything with you is the highlight of my day. Even washing your stinky feet," he gently slid out of you and tickled the bottoms of your feet, getting you to kick him away while trying to crawl under the shower again. Chan caught you by the waist and held you from behind, once again hiding in the crook of your neck and simply enjoying having you in his arms.

1K notes · View notes

franavu · 10 days

Text

While the Archheart's plan seems completely in character for a chaotic god who just wants out of their current situation (kudos to Abubakar), it's also an absolutely terrible idea. Let's say the absolutely best case scenario is going to happen. In that best case:

Imogen and/or Fearne can control Predathos enough that they're not completely erased (this would be the least important part in the grand scheme of things.)

When Predathos is syphoned from the moon it only takes the energy and doesn't cause the moon to crack/explode/implode, causing it to rain chunks of moon down on Exandria.

All the gods actually leave. This is not a certainty as per Taliesin the Wildmother has invested so much of herself in the world that she likely can't leave. I would imagine that that means that the Lawbearer is sticking around as well. Not to mention what would happen to the Chained Oblivion, it's not the same as the other gods, and as far as I know it only showed up sometime during the schism. (Is it even prey for Predathos? Is it of the same species? Would there be a Chained Oblivion Predathos Kaiju battle, with Exandria as the battleground? Who knows?)

On the way out the lower and higher planes get locked down so there is no extraplanar invasion. (The biggest worry would be demons/devils but I can imagine planetars etc. can make a problem of themselves if they see a good cause)

On the way out Predathos doesn't decide to snack on lesser divine beings/things (Uk'otoa, parts of the Luxon, etc) leaving its mutating properties behind. (see the Savalir wood)

The bloody bridge gets dissolved and doesn't tear Exandria's magic apart.

Now, in the absolute best case scenario, none of the above is going to be a problem. Regardless, what is going to be a problem:

Divine magic is going to be weakened at the least. The number of divine healers is going to tank, and while there are lesser beings that can grant divine magic, and it is possible, but difficult, to wield it without any (see Calamity). That's going to take a while to sort out, and in the meantime there's going to be a lot less healing.

A lot of things that got out during the Solstice are still out, like the Phoenix thing that is similar to Uk'otoa (which is probably out again as well) and they are a lot more difficult to seal without divine aid.

There is also still a significant invasion force of Ruidians that are going to be a problem, not to mention the Ruby Vanguard

With the gods gone, a lot of semi-divine powers, whether good or bad, are going to be empowered through new followers and/or warlock pacts, without anyone to keep them in line (again, see Artagan or Uk'otoa)

Vasselheim, the oldest city in the world, is going to have massive issues of at least morale, and is likely not going to be in a state to do anything outside of its own borders.

Other political entities are also going to be looking inwards, consolidating their own resources, and shedding their pereferies. I'd say that, for example, the Dwendalian Empire is likely going to shrink. Countries that are less effected by the loss of the gods, may very well go to war. Places that have been protected by the gods are going to lose that protection, Niirdal-Poc and the other cities which were protected by the Wildmother are probaly going to be run over by the Iron Authority.

Outside of actual war, demagogues, warlords, cult leaders, etc. are going to spring up in the chaos, with various degrees of violence.

And finally there is the biggest problem, wizards. Since long before the Calamity the holy grail of magic was ascension to godhood, and now the thrones are empty. A whole bunch of wizards are going to try for them, and in the best case scenario they fail and only take a chunk of empty countryside with them. In the worst case they succeed, seeing that wizards who's ambition is godhood absolutely should not have it. And now there is no divine gate or other deities to curtail them. So there'll soon be a new, worse pantheon.

So the Archheart is right, there will be a new balance, but as that usually goes, the new balance is going to be built on a pile of corpses, and is likely going to be worse than the previous one.

But hey,

#critical role #critical role spoilers #critical role campaign 3 #cr c3e107 #long post #critical role meta

397 notes · View notes

anna-the-undertaker · 8 days

Note

Pick-a-fic prompt:

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle to step back and reflect (focus on the Royals)

Newly arrived MC being unable to deal with the Brothers to the point of debating leaving the exchange program and thus running to the relative peace of the castle, but the brothers find MC’s diary where their doubts are written as plain as day (focus on the Brothers)

Sorry this took so long to get to, I've just been so busy working, prepping stuff for moving, and I got absorbed in the fic I am working on. I chose the second one and ended up giving it more angst. I hope this is what you were asking for. Enjoy :)

Failure

MC had never felt so small.

From the moment they arrived in the Devildom, they were an outsider—human, fragile, and completely out of place. The brothers tolerated their presence, but only just. Every day was a new challenge, a struggle to keep their head above water in a world so different from their own.

Mammon, their first pact and appointed guardian, never missed an opportunity to remind them of how much of a burden they were. "Oi, don’t just stand there lookin’ useless. If you’re gonna stick around, at least do somethin’ useful, huh?" He’d toss those words at them with a grin, almost like it was a joke, but the sting was real. His careless remarks hit hard, especially when MC was already trying to find their place in this strange world. Mammon didn’t see the damage; to him, they were just another chore to deal with, something that got in the way of his schemes.

Leviathan wasn’t much better. Whenever MC tried to interact with him, they were met with his judgmental stare, as though they were trespassing. "What’s a normie like you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere else to be?" His voice was laced with annoyance, making them feel like some bizarre creature that had wandered into his private world. He kept his distance, never giving MC a chance to show they could connect with him, too. His obsession with his fictional worlds only made them feel even more like an outsider, as though they’d never understand or be worthy of stepping into his life.

Satan? Satan barely acknowledged their existence. If he ever looked up from his books, it was with frustration, as if MC’s very presence disrupted his thoughts. "Can’t you see I’m busy?" he’d say, his voice cold and dismissive. He wasn’t cruel, but his indifference hurt just as much. It was like MC was invisible unless they somehow got in his way.

And Asmodeus—Asmo treated MC like an accessory, something to admire for a moment and then discard when something more interesting caught his eye. "Darling, if you're going to wear something that dull, I really can’t be seen with you." His words were often accompanied by a smile, but the superficiality behind them was clear. He made them feel like an object, like their only worth was tied to their appearance. Even worse, Asmo never seemed to consider how his constant fixation on perfection weighed on MC, making them question their own worth more and more each day.

Beelzebub? He rarely acknowledged MC at all. His focus was always on food, and even when he did notice them, it wasn’t in a way that made them feel seen. "You smell different. Wonder if you’d taste good," he’d say offhandedly, as if it was just a passing thought. He didn’t mean any harm, but hearing those words was unsettling. It made them feel even less like a person and more like some temporary guest who didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

But Lucifer… Lucifer was the hardest to bear. His demands for perfection pressed down on MC like an unbearable weight. He expected them to adapt instantly, to know things they couldn’t possibly know, and when they inevitably made mistakes, the look of disdain in his eyes was enough to crush them. "I need you to be better," he’d say, his voice calm but sharp. MC could never shake the feeling that they were constantly being judged, constantly falling short of his expectations. His false sense of care grated on them the most—he acted like he was guiding them, but to MC, it felt more like control.

Everything was so new, so overwhelming, and no one seemed to care that they were struggling. They couldn’t keep up, and instead of offering help, the brothers’ habits and personalities only deepened their isolation. The teasing, the judgment, the indifference—it was all too much.

So, they ran.

It wasn’t a dramatic escape. They didn’t even pack their bags. They simply left one night, slipping out of the House of Lamentation and making their way to Diavolo’s castle. If anywhere in the Devildom could offer peace, it was there. Leaving behind their diary, a collection of their thoughts, hopes, and fears. They didn’t expect anyone to find it. Writing had been their only outlet, the only way to cope with the growing weight of their struggles.

At first, the brothers didn’t notice their absence. Days passed, and the empty seat at the table went unremarked upon. Only when the small disruptions became too obvious did Mammon speak up.

"Oi, where’s the human? It ain’t like ‘em to just disappear without a word," he grumbled. But even then, his tone was more annoyed than concerned.

Lucifers sharp gaze swept the hallways, his mind turning over the details of MC’s sudden absence. He’d been busy—too busy, really. Between managing his brothers and fulfilling his duties, MC had slipped from his radar, and now… now he realized he hadn’t checked in on them in days.

It wasn’t until Satan, searching for a book, came across MC’s diary tucked away in a corner of their room that the truth was revealed.

Satan made his way to the eldests office, frowning as he thumbed through the pages. "Lucifer, you should see this."

Lucifer took the diary, reading in silence as his eyes traced the words MC had written. The others were called, and soon they all knew what MC had been feeling.

The entries were raw, filled with MC’s doubts and pain. Each brother’s name was scrawled across the pages, followed by confessions of how their words and actions had hurt.

“Mammon makes me feel like I’m nothing but a burden. Every time he calls me useless, it’s like he’s confirming something I’ve already been afraid of. I’m just in the way here.”

“Levi never sees me as more than a ‘normie.’ It’s like I’m some strange animal in his eyes, something he doesn’t want to understand. He shuts me out every time I try to get closer.”

“Satan barely notices I exist. And when he does, it’s always with that look… like I’m a problem he doesn’t want to deal with. I guess I am a problem.”

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

“Beel doesn’t seem to care one way or another. He’s so focused on his hunger that I don’t think he even notices when I’m around. When he does, it’s just another reminder that I don’t really belong here.”

“Lucifer… I don’t know how to describe it. He expects so much from me. Too much. He looks at me like I’m failing him, like I’m not worth the time it takes to help. His care feels false. I can’t keep up with his demands, and I don’t think he even realizes how much I’m struggling just to stay afloat.”

And then came the final entry.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore. Everything is too much. The brothers… they don’t care about me. I’m just another responsibility to them, one they didn’t ask for. I’m seriously thinking about leaving the exchange program. Maybe I should. Maybe I’m not strong enough for this.”

The brothers were silent and exchanged glances, the weight of the words sinking in. They just hadn’t realized how much their habits, their personalities, had affected MC. Mammon’s constant jabs, Levi’s distant hostility, Asmo’s superficial comments, Satan’s cold indifference, Beel’s lack of attention… all of it had chipped away at MC’s sense of self, until they felt like they didn’t matter.

Lucifer closed the diary, his jaw tight. "I didn’t know they felt this way," he said, his voice low.

Mammon shifted uncomfortably. "I didn’t mean it like that. I thought we were just messin’ around."

Levi rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn’t think they cared what I thought. I mean, I barely even know them."

Satan’s frown deepened. "We’ve all been too focused on ourselves."

Asmo’s eyes were wide with guilt. "I didn’t realize… I just thought they were shy. Or adjusting." He looked down, his usual confidence gone.

Beel said nothing, his expression a mix of regret and confusion. He hadn’t even noticed how much MC had been struggling, too wrapped up in his own needs to see theirs.

"We need to bring them back," Lucifer said finally, his voice firm.

At the castle, the brothers had expected to find MC sulking, perhaps still angry or hurt. They had come, armed with apologies and, for once, a united front. Lucifer led them, the weight of the diary heavy in his hands. It felt strange, unsettling even, to think they had been so blind to MC's struggles. They had planned to convince MC to stay, to promise things would be different this time.

But when they arrived, the castle was eerily quiet. Barbatos greeted them at the entrance, his face impassive, but his eyes held a hint of something… regretful.

"Where is MC?" Lucifer asked, his voice tight.

Barbatos looked at the group for a moment before lowering his gaze. "You’re too late."

"What'dya mean, 'too late?'" Mammon blurted, stepping forward, his usual confidence replaced with a flicker of panic.

Barbatos sighed softly, his tone unusually firm. "MC has already returned to the human world. They made the request to Lord Diavolo, and it has been granted."

The weight of his words sank in, and the brothers stood in stunned silence. Lucifer, for once, had no immediate response. Mammon’s shoulders slumped, and Levi's hands fidgeted nervously at his sides. Asmo’s mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out, while Beel’s expression darkened in quiet contemplation. Satan clenched his fists, the anger rising, though not directed at anyone but themselves.

"Why?" Levi muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Because," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the hall as he approached them, his expression serious, "they didn’t believe things would change. MC had been struggling for some time, and none of you noticed. They felt abandoned. They were overwhelmed, and by the time you realized, it was already too late."

The silence was suffocating as the future King of the Devildom regarded them with a mixture of disappointment and anger.

"You failed," Diavolo’s voice echoed through the room, each word a sharp blade. "You were given one task—one simple requirement as part of this exchange program. To make MC feel welcome. To make them feel as if they belonged. To get to know them and have them know you in return. To foster understanding."

The brothers stood in a line, shoulders hunched, guilt pressing down on them like a heavy weight. None of them dared to speak.

Diavolo’s gaze shifted to Lucifer, his disappointment palpable. "And you," he said, his voice soft but laced with reprimand, "I expected better of you."

Lucifer flinched at the words. His usual mask of calm confidence shattered under the weight of Diavolo’s gaze. For a moment, he felt utterly powerless, a sensation he had long fought to suppress.

"You let this happen under your watch. You let MC suffer to the point where they felt they had no choice but to leave the Devildom behind entirely." Diavolo’s words were like a hammer, each one driving the guilt deeper. "You let them slip through your fingers."

Mammon, Levi, Asmo, Beel, and Satan could do nothing but hang their heads in shame, their usual bickering and antics gone, replaced by the crushing realization of how badly they had failed. This wasn’t just about MC’s disappearance—it was about everything they had overlooked, every word they hadn’t said, every opportunity to make things right that they had ignored.

Diavolo took a breath, his tone softening slightly but still firm. "You were supposed to protect them. Instead, you pushed them away."

The silence was heavy, unbearable. None of them could meet Diavolo’s gaze.

"You will return to the House of Lamentation and reflect on what has happened here today," Diavolo said, his voice a final command. "I hope, for all our sakes, that this failure teaches you something."

With those parting words, Diavolo turned his back to them, and the brothers were left with nothing but the weight of their failure pressing down on their shoulders.

They sulked back to the House of Lamentation, each one lost in their own thoughts, their usual banter replaced with a somber silence. They had been too late. MC was gone.

Lucifer

Lucifer sat in his study, the heavy silence of the House of Lamentation pressing down on him. The others had retreated to their rooms, each of them nursing their own guilt, but Lucifer remained still, staring at the open diary on his desk. MC’s words were a stark reminder of his failure—his failure to see, his failure to act, his failure to protect. The very thing he prided himself on—his ability to maintain control, to ensure perfection in everything under his watch—had crumbled in the worst possible way.

Failure.

The word echoed in his mind, gnawing at him like a relentless force. Lucifer's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as his anger rose, burning in his chest. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he, of all people, have been so blind? He had always maintained order, ensured everything ran smoothly. He had taken on every responsibility, every burden, to prevent things from falling apart. But this...this was a disaster.

It was intolerable.

The weight of Diavolo’s words still hung heavy in the air: I expected better of you. The sting of those words cut deeper than any reprimand he had ever received. Diavolo had placed his trust in him, and he had let him down. Worse, he had let MC down—an innocent, fragile human who had come to the Devildom trusting they would be safe, that they would find a place here.

Lucifer stood abruptly, shoving his chair back with a force that sent it crashing against the wall. His usually composed demeanor shattered as the rage he had been holding back erupted. He slammed his fists down onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room. Papers scattered, and the sharp crack of wood under pressure reverberated through the air.

How had he missed it? How had he, with all his precision and attention to detail, been so oblivious to MC’s suffering? His grip on control, his obsession with perfection, had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so focused on maintaining order, on keeping his brothers in line, that he hadn’t even noticed the cracks forming right in front of him.

And now, it was too late.

MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even waited to see if things would change, if the brothers would make things right. They had made their decision, and it was a resounding statement of just how much Lucifer had failed them.

His chest tightened with frustration. He had been so focused on pushing MC to adapt, to fit the mold he thought they needed to fill, that he had ignored the reality of their struggles. He had looked at them through a lens of expectation rather than understanding, and now they were lost to him. To them all.

Lucifer closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in the storm of anger and guilt coursing through him. This failure—the bitter taste of it—was unacceptable. He couldn’t undo what had been done. He couldn’t change the fact that he had let Diavolo down, that he had let MC down.

But he could make sure it never happened again.

Slowly, Lucifer opened his eyes, the flames of anger still burning but now tempered by a cold resolve. He would not allow this to break him. He would not allow this failure to define him. He had to remain strong—not just for himself, but for Diavolo, for the Devildom, and for his brothers.

But deep down, the rage simmered, a constant reminder of his imperfection, his weakness. He had been shown the one thing he hated most: his own limits.

Failure.

It was something Lucifer would never forget. And never forgive. Not himself, and not the others.

Mammon

Mammon sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, his hands tangled in his hair. The silence in the House of Lamentation was deafening, pressing down on him in a way that made his chest feel tight. MC was gone—back to the human world. They hadn’t even said goodbye.

His first instinct had been to brush it off, like he always did. Make some flippant comment about how MC would be back soon enough, that they just needed a little time to cool off. But as the hours passed and reality settled in, the truth was undeniable.

MC wasn’t coming back.

"Dammit..." Mammon muttered under his breath, his fingers tightening around his hair as if that could stop the thoughts running wild in his head.

He replayed the last few weeks in his mind—the constant teasing, the jabs, the way he’d brush off their efforts with a casual, "Oi, don’t be so useless." He never meant it. Not really. It was just how he talked, right? But now… Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it must’ve sounded to them.

How it must’ve felt.

He always thought MC knew he didn’t mean anything by it. They were just words, stupid little insults thrown out without thinking. It wasn’t like he actually thought they were useless. Hell, he was actually starting to like them—though he’d never admit it out loud.

Mammon groaned, flopping back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling. Why did he always do this? Why did he push away the people he cared about, acting like they were some kind of nuisance when they weren’t? It was just… easier that way. It was easier to hide behind the tough guy act, to pretend like nothing bothered him. But it wasn’t true. It had never been true.

And now it was too late.

"I didn’t mean it," he whispered, his voice breaking in the quiet room. "I didn’t mean any of it..."

But what good did that do now? They were gone. MC was gone, and it was his fault.

Mammon’s heart clenched as he thought about all the times he’d made fun of them, all the times he’d called them a burden, a hassle. He’d acted like MC was just some human getting in the way of his plans, but the truth was that they had become more important to him than he’d realized.

He didn’t show it—he didn’t know how—but they mattered to him. They made him feel different, like he wasn’t just the "Great Mammon," the greedy demon who was always causing trouble. When MC looked at him, it felt like they saw something more, something better. And now? They were gone because of him.

Mammon kicked his legs out in frustration, his shoes thudding against the floor. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he always have to mess things up? He had the chance to make MC feel welcome, to make them feel like they belonged here, and he blew it.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Yeah, I know!" Mammon snapped at the empty room, his voice harsh with guilt. "I know I screwed up! I get it!"

He sat up suddenly, running his hands down his face in frustration. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be their protector, their guardian. They were his pact holder, he was their first. He was supposed to look out for them, not drive them away. He hated that feeling—the helplessness that came with realizing he couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t just throw money at it or charm his way out like he usually did.

MC was gone, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Mammon stood up, pacing his room. His mind raced, thinking of what he could’ve said or done differently. Maybe if he’d just told them how he really felt, if he’d stopped pushing them away and acting like they were a bother… Maybe they wouldn’t have left.

"I should’ve been better," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I should’ve told ‘em… I should’ve made ‘em feel like they mattered."

But he hadn’t. And now he was stuck with the gnawing regret that he might never see MC again. They were back in the human world, and they’d never want to come back to the Devildom, especially not after how he and the others had treated them.

He was the Great Mammon, sure. But what good was that title if he couldn’t even keep the one person who actually made him feel like he was more than just his sin?

With a choked sob, Mammon collapsed back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling as the tears began to fall.

He’d failed them. There was no getting around that. And the worst part? He’d never get the chance to make it right.

Leviathan

Leviathan sat in front of his monitors, eyes staring blankly at the paused screen of his latest game. His headphones sat around his neck, the usual buzz of online matches long forgotten. The quiet of his room wasn’t the kind he liked. It wasn’t peaceful or calming. It was suffocating.

MC was gone. Back to the human world. They had left without saying anything, without a word, without… him knowing. He hadn’t even noticed they were gone until the others started talking about it. And now that they weren’t here, the reality of the situation was starting to sink in.

Levi chewed on his thumbnail, anxiety swirling in his gut like an endless whirlpool. How could he have missed it? How could he not have seen what was happening right under his nose? His stomach churned with guilt as he thought about the way he’d treated MC since the moment they arrived.

Normie.

That was what he called them. Over and over again. He’d pushed them away, called them a nuisance, acted like they didn’t belong. He had no idea if they liked anime or games, but instead of giving them a chance to show they could understand his world, he had shut them out before they could even try. Why? Because they weren’t like him. Because they weren’t part of his world. Because it was easier to call them a "normie" and keep them at arm’s length than it was to let someone else get close.

Levi groaned, burying his face in his hands. He hated himself. Why did he always do this? Why did he always ruin things before they had a chance to be good? He had been scared—scared that MC would judge him like everyone else did, scared that they would see how awkward, how pathetic he really was. So he kept them away, treated them like some kind of animal when really… he had wanted them to be a part of his life.

They had tried. He could see it now, in hindsight. MC had tried to talk to him, had tried to get to know him, had actually listened to him when he'd rant. And what had he done? He’d dismissed them. Pushed them away. Called them human or normie—never their name—as if that was the only thing they could be.

He swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at his insides. If only he hadn’t been so wrapped up in his own insecurities, maybe things would have been different. Maybe MC wouldn’t have left.

But they did.

Levi curled in on himself, hugging his knees to his chest as the realization settled in. They were gone, and it was his fault. His fault for being too afraid to let them in, too scared to admit that maybe he wanted them around more than he’d ever let on. He hadn’t even realized how much he missed them until now, until the space they used to occupy in the house, in his life, felt empty.

And Diavolo’s words kept ringing in his ears. You failed them.

"Of course I did," Levi muttered, his voice thick with bitterness. "I always fail."

He had failed to be a good brother, failed to be a friend, and now, he had failed MC.

"They must think I hate them," Levi whispered, his chest tightening painfully. "They probably think I never wanted them around." His voice cracked, and he quickly wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, but it didn’t stop the tears that threatened to fall.

Because that wasn’t true. It had never been true.

Levi wanted them around—he had liked having them around. But how could they have known that when all he ever did was push them away, call them a normie, and act like they didn’t matter? He had been too caught up in his own head, too worried about them seeing the worst parts of him, to let them see the good.

Now they were back in the human world, far away from him, and he had no idea if they would ever come back. And if they did, why would they want to come back to him? The shut-in otaku who made them feel like they didn’t belong?

"Stupid," he muttered angrily, wiping his eyes again. "I’m so stupid…"

He stood up suddenly, pacing the room, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. What if MC never came back? What if they decided to stay in the human world forever, away from all the pain and rejection the Devildom had offered them?

Levi’s heart pounded in his chest, panic rising as the what-ifs piled up in his mind. They were gone. And he didn’t know if he’d ever get the chance to tell them the truth, that he wanted them here, that he—needed them here.

But now it was too late.

With a deep, shaky breath, Levi sank into his tub, curling up again as his anxiety wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.

It was always too late for him.

Satan

Satan sat in the library, the silence around him sharp and oppressive. The book in his hands remained unopened, his mind too preoccupied to focus on anything but the gnawing feeling of guilt twisting in his chest. MC had left. Gone back to the human world without so much as a word, without waiting for anything to change.

He ran a hand through his hair, jaw clenched tightly as Diavolo’s admonishment replayed in his head. You failed them. The words stung more than he expected, not because they were untrue, but because they were painfully accurate. He had failed them. They all had. And now the damage was done.

Satan wasn’t like Lucifer. He didn’t thrive on control or perfection, but failure still left a bitter taste in his mouth, especially when it was something that could have been prevented. He prided himself on understanding things—on reading people, situations, emotions. And yet, somehow, he had missed what was right in front of him.

I barely even acknowledged them, he thought bitterly, eyes narrowing as the realization sank deeper. When MC first arrived, they were just another part of the exchange program—an obligation. Someone he was forced to tolerate. He had never thought of them as more than that.

They had tried to speak to him on several occasions, asking questions, trying to understand the world around them. He had dismissed them each time. Not out of cruelty, but out of indifference. There were always more important things to focus on, more pressing matters in his mind. Books to read, knowledge to gather. What did it matter if a fragile human was feeling out of place? He’d barely given them a second thought, and now that they were gone, that indifference was coming back to haunt him.

Satan drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface. He wasn’t angry at MC—not at all. He was angry at himself. He should have seen it. He should have recognized the signs. But instead, he’d brushed them off, barely looking up from his books when they entered the room. It was no wonder they had felt invisible. To him, they had been.

"How could I have been so blind?" he muttered under his breath, his grip tightening on the edges of his book.

His dismissive attitude had hurt them, but it wasn’t just the indifference—it was the frustration. The few times he had acknowledged MC, it had been with impatience. He’d grown annoyed when they asked questions, irritated when they didn’t immediately grasp the complex information he threw at them. He had expected too much from them. Expected them to just understand a world they’d only just entered.

I was unfair.

The admission grated on him, but it was the truth. He hadn’t given them the time or attention they needed. He had treated them like a distraction, like an inconvenience. And for what? Because they weren’t like him? Because they didn’t understand things as quickly as he wanted them to?

It was absurd. It was… disappointing. In himself.

Satan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his temples, trying to keep the anger in check. His temper was always there, simmering just beneath the surface, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of anger he could lash out at. It wasn’t something he could destroy or control. This was guilt—a slow, burning guilt that twisted in his gut and left him feeling powerless.

I failed them, he thought again, the words echoing in his mind like a relentless chant.

They had left because of him. Because of the way he treated them, the way he ignored their presence. The diary had made it clear—MC felt like they didn’t belong, like they were a burden. And he had done nothing to change that.

He had let them slip away. And now they were back in the human world, far beyond his reach.

Satan stood up abruptly, pacing the library with sharp, determined steps. He hated this feeling—this powerlessness. He wasn’t like Lucifer, obsessed with perfection, but he wasn’t one to accept failure either. Yet here he was, unable to fix the mess he had helped create.

He stopped in front of a bookshelf, his hand hovering over the spines of the books. Usually, the smell of old pages and the promise of knowledge would calm him, would ground him. But now? It just felt hollow.

Books couldn’t solve this.

Knowledge couldn’t solve this.

For once, all the intellect in the world meant nothing. He had failed MC not because he lacked understanding, but because he hadn’t cared enough to try.

He closed his eyes, frustration boiling in his chest. "I should’ve done better," he whispered, his voice low and filled with regret. "I should’ve listened."

But it was too late. They were gone. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

For someone who prided himself on knowing so much, Satan realized now that he had understood so little. And that knowledge—more than anything else—cut deeper than any reprimand Diavolo could have given him.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus sat in front of his vanity, staring at his reflection. Normally, he would be admiring the flawless way his skin glowed, the way his hair framed his face perfectly, or how his latest outfit highlighted every one of his best features. But today, the usual spark wasn’t there.

MC was gone. They had left the Devildom and returned to the human world, and they hadn’t even said goodbye.

Asmo frowned, twisting a lock of hair around his finger as he glanced down at the collection of beauty products scattered across his vanity. How could they have left like that? Without saying anything to him? No farewell? No goodbye hug? They had just… disappeared.

And they didn’t even tell me?

That part stung. He was Asmodeus, after all. Everyone loved him. Why wouldn’t they want to talk to him, to tell him what was going on in their head before leaving? It wasn’t like he had been mean to them—he’d been nothing but fabulous! He’d complimented them, given them fashion tips, even helped them choose outfits when they were looking drab.

He huffed and crossed his arms, his eyes flicking back to the mirror. "I don’t understand," he murmured to himself, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails. "They could’ve at least told me if something was wrong."

But as he thought about it, something uncomfortable started to settle in his chest. He hadn’t exactly treated MC like someone who mattered, had he? They were just the new human, someone for him to toy with, to dress up like a doll, to show off. He had treated them more like an accessory than a person. Every compliment he gave was followed by a backhanded comment about how they could do better, how they could look more fabulous. He had made everything about their appearance—about how they looked, what they wore—without ever thinking about what they wanted, how they felt.

And that diary entry… the one about him.

“Asmo’s always commenting on how I look. I know it’s not personal, but it feels like all I am to him is an object. A pretty thing to dress up, but never good enough to really matter.”

Asmo’s heart clenched uncomfortably as those words echoed in his mind. They hadn’t been meant for him to read, but now that he had, he couldn’t stop thinking about them. MC thought they didn’t matter. That they weren’t enough for him.

That wasn’t true! He had thought they were cute from the start. Sure, they had a long way to go in terms of style and confidence, but he had liked being around them. In his own way, he had enjoyed their presence. He just… never said it. Never showed it beyond superficial praise.

Had he really made them feel like that? Like they were just some toy to be discarded when something more interesting came along?

He bit his lip, eyes dropping from the mirror. "I didn’t mean to make them feel that way," he whispered, a strange knot of guilt tightening in his chest. "I just wanted them to look their best, to be their best."

But that wasn’t really the point, was it? MC hadn’t needed someone to tell them how to dress or how to look. They had needed someone to tell them they belonged, someone to make them feel like they were important beyond appearances.

Asmo sighed, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. He hated this feeling—this heavy, nagging sense of regret. It wasn’t like him. He was Asmodeus, the Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful being in the Devildom. People flocked to him for advice, for attention. Everyone loved him. So why did it matter so much that one human didn’t?

Because it wasn’t just any human. It was MC.

They had trusted him. They had spent time with him, laughed at his jokes, let him play with their hair and help them pick outfits. And what had he done? He’d brushed them off like they were just another pretty face, like they weren’t worth getting to know beyond the surface.

And now they were gone. And it was his fault.

Asmo twirled a ring on his finger absentmindedly, the usual sparkle of his jewelry doing nothing to lift his mood. "They probably think I never cared about them," he muttered, his voice soft. "And maybe I didn’t… at least, not the way they needed me to."

He hated admitting it, but it was true. He had cared more about how they looked than how they felt. He had been so focused on making them into something he could be proud of that he hadn’t stopped to think about what they needed.

And now they were back in the human world, thinking they were never good enough for him. Thinking they didn’t matter.

For the first time in a long time, Asmo wasn’t thinking about himself. He wasn’t thinking about how he looked or what outfit he’d wear tomorrow. He was thinking about MC—about how he had hurt them without even realizing it. And that guilt, that realization, clung to him like a weight he couldn’t shake.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the vanity and burying his face in his hands.

But it was too late now. MC was gone. And all the beauty in the world couldn’t change that.

Beelzebub

Beel sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the plate in front of him. His usual appetite was gone, a strange hollowness taking its place. The silence felt heavier than usual, and for the first time in a long while, food couldn’t fill the emptiness inside him.

MC was gone. They had returned to the human world. And he hadn't even cared that they had disappeared.

He ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing as the thought settled in. He hadn’t paid much attention to them, hadn’t really thought about them as anything more than a human—something fragile, something that he wasn’t supposed to eat. They were just there, part of the exchange program, someone to tolerate but not worth focusing on.

Beel sighed, glancing at the uneaten food on his plate. It didn’t make sense to him. Why did it feel like something was missing now that they were gone? He hadn’t been particularly close to them. He’d never really taken much interest in what they did or said. They were just… human. And humans were something he didn’t think about much, aside from the occasional urge to eat one. But even that wasn’t really a problem. He knew better.

But still, the fact that they were gone—it didn’t sit right with him.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he thought back to the few interactions they’d had. Whenever he saw them, he’d mostly been focused on food. Sometimes he’d make offhand comments about how they smelled different, or how they might taste good, but that was just the hunger talking. He didn’t mean it personally. He had never meant to make them feel uncomfortable.

But maybe he had.

He frowned, the knot in his stomach tightening. They were right. He hadn’t cared one way or the other. To him, they were just another face in the Devildom, another human who wasn’t supposed to be eaten. He’d never gone out of his way to talk to them or get to know them.

He hadn’t thought they mattered.

But maybe they did.

Beel sighed again, his large hands resting on the table as he stared at his empty plate. He hadn’t done anything to make them feel welcome, hadn’t shown any interest in them beyond his usual blunt, hunger-driven remarks. To him, MC had just been part of the background, something he didn’t need to think about.

But now they were gone. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe he had missed something important.

He had seen how the others treated MC—the teasing from Mammon, the indifference from Satan, the distance from Levi. He had heard the way Lucifer demanded more from them, how Asmo insulted them under the guise of advice. Beel hadn’t said much, hadn’t gotten involved, but he hadn’t done anything to stop it either. And now that he thought about it, that made him just as guilty as the rest of them.

"They must’ve felt so alone," Beel muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. "And I didn’t do anything to help."

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much now. Maybe it was because MC had been part of their lives for a while, and now that they were gone, there was a strange emptiness where they used to be. He hadn’t realized how much he had gotten used to seeing them around, hearing their voice, watching them navigate the chaos of the House of Lamentation.

But now that they were gone, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

Beel stood up, pacing the room slowly. He wasn’t like Lucifer or Satan, always thinking things through, always analyzing the situation. He didn’t think too deeply about the people around him most of the time. But now? Now he wished he had paid more attention. Maybe if he had, MC wouldn’t have felt so isolated, so invisible.

"They were more than just a human," he muttered, a pang of guilt hitting him. "But I never treated them like they were."

He hadn’t thought they mattered, and that was his biggest mistake. MC had been a part of their world, even if they were human. They had been right there, trying to find their place, and Beel had done nothing. He hadn’t meant to hurt them, hadn’t meant to make them feel like they didn’t belong—but his indifference had done that anyway.

And now, it was too late.

Beel stopped pacing, leaning against the wall and staring down at the floor. He didn’t know what to do with this feeling. It wasn’t like hunger—he couldn’t just eat something and make it go away. This was different. It was guilt, and it was heavy.

"I should’ve cared more," he whispered, his voice quiet in the empty room. "I should’ve made sure they knew they were welcome."

But they hadn’t known. And now they were back in the human world, far away from all of them.

Beel clenched his fists, frustration welling up inside him. He hated that they had left feeling like they didn’t matter. He hated that he hadn’t done anything to make them stay.

But what could he do now?

#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me mc #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me angst

198 notes · View notes

fluentmoviequoter · 7 months

Text

Doggitude

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x teacher!fem!reader (+ Kojo!)

Summary: After Tim takes his bad day out on you, you leave. Kojo misses you and does everything he can to see you again.

Warnings: angst, argument, Tim insults/belittles reader and her job, fluffy ending! KOJO!!

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim loves you, and loves his job, but sometimes those sides of him are at odds. You are happy, bubbly, a ray of sunshine in a dark world, whereas his job shows him only the dark. Each side of Tim impacts the others; a good day with you leads into a good day at work, and a bad day at work is occasionally taken out on you.

Tim knows he isn’t a great boyfriend, and he can be abrasive and use you as an emotional outlet when things aren’t going well. He tries, he really does, but some bad days make being a good person seem impossible.

This week, Tim has worked several shifts back-to-back and is in a terrible mood when his shift finally ends. He’s ready to get home, but he just wants to enjoy some quiet and go to sleep, so he decides not to call you. Even as he sees your picture on his phone screen, he finds your smile a bit too bright. You’re different than him, and Tim usually loves that, but at the end of three consecutive bad days, Tim wants to stew in his anger rather than see something bright, like looking into the sun after extended time in a cave.

✯✯✯✯✯

You’ve been spending time at Tim’s house while he’s been at work. Every minute with Kojo in the otherwise empty house has made you miss Tim even more. Your kindergarten class has been rowdy all week, but you refuse to let them dampen your mood. Excited at the idea of Tim finally coming home tonight, you sit with Kojo and wait, reviewing lesson plans and report cards in your spare time.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo looks up from your lap when the front door opens, and you smile brightly when Tim enters. He doesn’t notice you as he drops his bag and sighs.

“Hey,” you greet. “We missed you this week.”

Tim clenches his jaw as he turns to face you. “Have you been here every night this week?”

Nodding, you explain, “I wanted to see you, but I also needed to take care of Kojo.”

He remains silent, his eyes focused on something behind you.

“Are you okay? I know it’s been a long week, but-“

“You don’t know,” Tim says, cutting you off. “You will never understand what a long week really is.”

“Tim, I-“

“No,” Tim snaps, stepping back as he shrugs sarcastically. “You do not understand what it is like for me. Your job is nothing; your long week is because a kid wets his pants, mine is because one of my own gets shot or I lose a suspect, and someone gets hurt because of it. In the grand scheme of things, your job doesn’t matter because people still become criminals and ruin lives like mine!”

Tim’s chest is heaving with anger, every little thing he had to deal with this week weighing on him while he takes it out on you. You bite down on your bottom lip as he continues hurting you, attacking you and the thing you love to make himself feel better.

“You’re angry and tired,” you begin, your smile long gone. “So, I’m going to go-“

“Don’t talk to me like I am one of students. You can barely control them, so don’t try to placate me. I have dealt with criminals who do more work than you.”

A tear rolls over your cheek, and you wipe it away harshly.

“Then go yell at them, since that seems to be what you do to the people you claim to care about,” you reply, grabbing your things.

“Don’t leave.” Tim rolls his eyes as he says it, like you’re overreacting.

“I didn’t want to, but you clearly do. I hope you feel better in the morning, Tim.”

The door slams behind you, and Tim runs his hand over his hair, pinching the tight muscle at the back of his neck. Kojo jumps from the chair where he was sitting beside you, rushing to the closed door and whimpering. He looks back at Tim, whining as he raises his paw toward the door.

“I messed up, didn’t I, Kojo?” Tim asks.

Kojo whines again, a clear ‘yes.’ Kojo has loved you since the moment he met you, and Tim even refers to you as 'Kojo’s mom.' Tim pulls his phone from his pocket, dialing your number. He gets no answer, and Tim can’t blame you, but he also knows better than to chase you. He texts you and puts his phone away, calling Kojo to follow him to bed. Kojo stays at the door, lying down and watching the doorknob.

“Sorry, buddy,” Tim says, leaving his bedroom door open in case Kojo forgives him in the night.

✯✯✯✯✯

Once you are safely in your apartment, you let yourself cry, Tim’s words on a loop in your mind. Your phone rings again, and you see Tim’s name with yet another message. Turning the ringer off, you push your phone away from you and curl up in the middle of your bed, crying rather than sleeping.

Tim has been emotional coming home from work before, saying something you didn’t deserve. He’s never taken it this far or made it about you personally before tonight. His comments about your job had to have come from somewhere, maybe something he’s been hiding. You don’t believe him; you know what you do is important, but Tim hurt you, and you’re not sure it will ever stop hurting.

When the sun appears on the horizon, you call in sick from work, prepared for a long weekend alone. Part of you wants to know if Tim is feeling better today, but then you remember what he did, giving you a bad day in his attempt to minimize his own.

“I miss Kojo,” you whisper, crying again as you remember that it’s not only Tim you’re losing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Kojo?” Tim calls, growing more worried with each empty room.

Behind the kitchen island, Kojo is sitting and shaking with his head down. Tim kneels before him and lays a gentle hand on his back. Kojo begins whining, a different sound than his reaction to you leaving last night.

“What’s the matter, Kojo?” Tim whispers.

Kojo shakes harder, sliding his front paws out so he’s lying flat on the floor. Tim searches for a nearby vet hospital before picking Kojo up and carrying him outside. Once Kojo is in his truck, Tim drives to the vet hospital. Kojo’s whining turns to short barks as he carries him inside. The vet takes one look at Kojo shaking and leads Tim into an examination room. After checking Kojo's vitals quickly, the vet sets her equipment down and chuckles.

“Mr.?” she begins.

“Bradford. And that’s Kojo.”

“Mr. Bradford, Kojo is faking. There’s nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s- he’s fine?”

“Yes, he is. Dogs sometimes do this when they want attention or after something changes, in an attempt to get it back. Has something like that happened recently?”

Tim looks at Kojo and nods.

“Someone will be in shortly with the paperwork. I’m glad Kojo is healthy. Have a nice day, Bradfords.”

As the door closes, Tim asks, “Wasn’t that a bit dramatic? Did you think I’d call her, and she’d answer for you?”

Kojo looks up and grunts at Tim. Someone knocks before handing Tim the bill and telling him he’s free to go. Tim looks down at the bill and releases a deep exhale. He should be upset with Kojo, but he probably deserves a lot worse for what he did to you.

“She really won’t come back now, Kojo. You spent all my money,” Tim mutters.

Kojo grunts again as Tim clips a leash to his collar. He refuses to look at Tim, upset that he was taken to the vet rather than your side.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim hasn’t texted in a few hours. He either realized you weren’t going to answer or decided he didn’t want to talk. You haven’t read the messages or played the voicemails, too hurt to communicate with Tim in any way. Reading his words or hearing his voice will make you cry harder, and you’re already nearly cried out.

Looking at a framed picture of Kojo, you wish things had been different, wondering if one little choice would have made things end differently. You didn’t sleep last night, and you’re sure you won’t sleep again tonight, too busy crying and mourning the loss of the most important boys in your life. As the sun sets, you begin sobbing, holding the picture of Kojo to your chest as you hear Tim’s angry words in your mind again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Kojo won’t come near Tim, content to sit by the door. When Tim moves, Kojo grunts, turning away. The doorbell rings, and Kojo steps back, watching Tim as he answers it. Signing for a package, Tim ignores Kojo’s growling.

“I can’t make her forgive me, pal,” Tim tells Kojo after he closes the door.

Kojo trots away, turning into the guest room to sleep. Tim sits on the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose as he realizes he has two problems that must be solved. He hurt you, and worse, he hurt you intentionally, and now he has a dog that misses you and blames him. Tim understands why you are ignoring him and why Kojo is upset, too. Reaching for his phone, he texts you again, but the dozens of unanswered texts above the newest make him refrain from calling you.

✯✯✯✯✯

After managing to get an hour and a half of sleep, you hope the third night without Tim will be easier. When you hear a dog barking outside your window and a man talking kindly to the dog as if it will respond, you realize that tonight will likely be the worst. Tim and Kojo do that, have their own language, and you were part of their world for a brief, brilliant moment. And then it was snatched away from you, breaking your heart and hurting your mind in the process.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You have to go outside eventually, Kojo,” Tim says with his arms crossed over his chest and Kojo’s leash hanging from his hand.

Kojo grunts, looks toward the door, and slowly approaches Tim. On the walk, Kojo pulls harder than usual, not listening to Tim when he gives him commands.

“When is this dog-gitude going to pass, Kojo?” Tim asks. “Because there’s nothing we can do.”

Tim doesn’t realize how close he is to your apartment when he enters the dog park. Kojo runs back and forth across the park a few times, glad to stretch his legs after avoiding Tim in the house for a few days. When he stops suddenly, looking at Tim as his back legs drop, preparing to run, Tim knows he can’t stop him.

“Kojo, no!” Tim yells.

Kojo, of course, doesn’t listen. He runs past Tim, out of the dog park, and down the sidewalk as fast as possible. Tim follows behind, pushing himself past his limit to catch Kojo. When he sees the lights of a familiar apartment complex, he realizes that Kojo is finding you.

“Kojo!” Tim calls again, slowing as he begins up the stairs.

✯✯✯✯✯

A dog barks at your door, and for a moment, you think you are imagining Kojo’s presence. When claws scratch against the wood, you open the door slowly. Kojo pushes past you, circling your legs happily. You sink to the floor, wrapping your arms around Kojo. Unaware that you are still crying, you’re surprised when Kojo begins licking your chin, attempting to dry your tears.

Footsteps echo in the stairwell, and when Tim appears in your doorway, panting and pressing one hand to the doorjamb to stay upright, you turn toward him instinctually. Kojo grunts, moving in front of you, blocking Tim.

Tim sees your tears and bloodshot eyes and can’t stop himself from stepping inside. He closes the door and squats, keeping his eyes on you as he lowers to look in your eyes over Kojo’s head.

“Did you read my messages?” he asks softly.

You shake your head, and he nods before leaning back as he sits against the door.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Shaking your head again, you pull Kojo back into your arms and cling to him.

“I’m going to tell you want my messages said, but if you want me to stop I will,” Tim begins. “I never should have said those things about your job, because they were wrong. Teaching is important, and the kind of teaching you do is far more important than what I do. You give kids a chance to be the best they can be, and I have to find the bad people and make them pay for it. You already know that I had a long week, a bad one, too, and I took that out on you. I can’t say much more than I am sorry; I’m so sorry that I talked to you like that. You are the only good part of a life surrounded by grief. I- I wouldn’t forgive me.”

“Why?” you ask against Kojo. “Why did you say those things?”

“You- you’re bright, sunny, happy… all the time.”

“I thought you liked that about me.”

“I love that about you. But, after the week I had, it was just hard to turn away from the hard parts of the job and see pure light.”

“So, you don’t want to come back to-“

“Don’t finish that. This has nothing to do with you. This was all me, trying to deal with a bad week and making it far worse. Hurting you in the process was not my intention, and I can never make up for that.”

You hug Kojo tightly, thinking about what Tim said. Having two completely different life elements like that can’t be easy. If it’s not about him not wanting to come home to you, you’re not sure how to avoid the same thing in the future.

“I’m sorry,” Tim repeats. “And, if you give me a second chance, I will show you that I can separate the two. Bringing a bad day home to you, hurting you, is not an option and I never should have lost sight of that… I’ve missed you.”

“I missed Kojo.”

“Yeah, Kojo missed you too,” Tim replies with a dramatic raise of his brows. “Cost me nearly $1,000 trying to see you again.”

“How?” you ask, looking up at Tim again.

He softens when your eyes meet his. “He pretended to be sick trying to get you to come back, but I just took him to the vet. Emergency visits are expensive, even if there is no reason for it.”

“Did- did you follow him here?”

“Yeah. He ran from the dog park and came straight here.”

“Would you have come here if he hadn’t led you, or would you have just moved on after I stopped answering the phone?”

Tim slides closer until Kojo is the only thing separating him from you. “I would have come. I would have gotten on my knees and begged to apologize.”

“Just to apologize?”

“I can’t force you to forgive me or give me another chance, just tell you that I’m sorry and I miss you like crazy.”

“Well, I missed you like Kojo missed me,” you say quietly.

“That much?”

“I haven’t slept in three nights, so, yeah,” you answer with a chuckle.

Tim raises his hand to your face, placing his fingers under your jaw as his thumb moves gently across your cheek.

“I forgive you,” you whisper, leaning into his touch. “Just promise to talk to me, rather than take it out at me next time you have a bad day?”

“I promise,” Tim replies. “Kojo, move.”

Kojo grunts, moving closer to you.

“Kojo,” you say, smiling when he moves to your side, watching you closely for any sign of hurt.

“He likes you more than me. His mom left and nothing could make it better.”

“Has he been eating? Because I have some of his food here-“

Tim cuts you off, kissing you softly as his hand moves to the back of your neck. He moves slowly, communicating his love and his apology in his movements.

“Can we get off the floor?” you ask.

“Only if Kojo and I can stay for a while.”

“You can stay forever.”

Tim pulls you into his lap, smiling when you grab his shoulders in surprise. He kisses your jaw as he stands, pulling you up and moving to your couch.

“I’m sorry you had a bad week,” you say, patting for Kojo to join you.

“Why are you like this?” Tim replies.

“Because I’m sunny, and bright, and all things happy.”

“Lucky me,” Tim hums.

#tim bradford x reader #kojo bradford #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader #kojo bradford. cutie pie extraordinaire.

645 notes · View notes