#if i'm in the library i will always go to the section on books about films and movies and look for any movies i've seen

[lady-of-the-spirit]

I think every movie should have a "making of" book written about it. Because I'm nosy.

[sassysnowperson]

How Not to Read Terry Pratchett's Discworld Novels

With the very exciting fantasy books poll bracket going on Discworld and how to read it is in the zeitgeist again. I figured I would take a crack at adding to this important topic with a guide drawn from my own chaotic mess of a reading journey:

Learn that Terry Pratchett is a fantasy author that several people whose reading taste you admire enjoy. He apparently blends comedy, good plotting, and a world that is both grounded and satirical and you're a big fan of all those things.

Fabulous! Decide to read some of his work.

Go to your local library. Love a good library. You're new to the area, so you're also exploring the library for the first time, too.

You have found Terry Pratchett! Points to you! Pull a book off the shelf at random. It's called The Dark Side of the Sun.

Start reading. Realize that this feels more like sci-fi than fantasy. Sigh in smug superiority about people who get the two confused.

Realize about halfway through that this is not, in fact, a Discworld book.

Nobody warned you the guy wrote other things!

It's still good, tho. Maybe a little rough but this was an older book and the author clearly has potential. Let's try again.

Review his works. The vast majority are Discworld. You are highly unlikely to grab another non-Discworld book. Go back to the Terry Pratchett section of the library.

Oh hey he wrote a book with Neil Gaiman! You've hears of that guy!

Grab Good Omens off the shelf.

Take it home, realize, much sooner, that this is also not a Discworld book. Still enjoy yourself thoroughly. You should read more of this Gaiman dude, too.

But okay. For real this time. Go back to the library and don't leave without *CONFIRMING* you have a Discworld book this time.

Grab a book. Look at the cover. Read the back Discworld! Ha HA! You've done it!

It's called Thud.

You are utterly gripped by a story of a man wrestling with himself, his growing child, the political tensions of a city and extremism that echoes reality beautifully while still being entirely true to itself. It's a story of responsibility and love and building communities and Fantasy Chess. You are driven nearly to tears by the sentence *WHERE IS MY COW?*

You emerge from the book fundamentally changed as a person, and finally understanding what all the fuss is about. You are now a Terry Pratchett reader for life.

You realize Thud was in the middle of a series. That was a part of another series. That explains why there was a feeling that you were supposed to know some of these people already.

You finally find one of those flowcharts and figure out a more sensible reading order.

I always sort of laugh when people ask where to start reading Discworld, because Thud would be first on absolutely nobody's sensible Terry Pratchett reading order. I'm still tempted to recommend it though!

(My actual advice: Going Postal if you love con men being stuck doing the right thing, Wee Free Men if you like YA and smart angry girls owning their own power, Guards! Guards! *and* Men at Arms if you like crime shows with heart and are okay giving earlier work a try (the quality gets better and better, but I think it needs at least two books to get you into it), and Monstrous Regiment if you like gender and queer feelings, anti-war books told in the middle of a war, and/or would prefer a stand alone novel...and, you know, Thud if you want a great read and don't mind some chaos.)

[yanderecxre]

Yandere!Retired Colonel headcanons

You only knew him by his nickname, "Saint", beyond that you knew nothing about him. But oh, did he know everything about you.

You, sweet and young, fresh outta college and working at the base he was stationed at before he decided to retire. You who took care of the daycare on base, who didn't even bat an eye at the insanity that the children you took care of looked like.

Saint even adopted a kid from the dumb program just to have an excuse to talk and see you, little Henry was a pain in the ass, literally and figuratively. The brat always clung to you, crying he didn't wanna go home. Making Saint look like a terrible grandfather. "Listen here you little brat, I'm trying to make sure they can't just up and leave, so start acting like I'm the greatest grandfather alive before you scare them off!"

Sweet, young bleeding heart little you. Always talking and smiling at him like he's some regular guy and not a powerful Colonel who could (and would if you ever tempted or forced his hand) ruin your budding little career before the hour ended. Of course though he'd never do that, not with how often he sees you now, at drop off, pick up, sometimes you ask guardians to help around the daycare, he's there every time.

Saint, who once he decides you're his, immediately gets to work implementing himself in your life, both personal and professional. Using little Henry as an excuse, poor boy getting used as an excuse for why the two ran into you everywhere you seemed to go. "Oh, hello Henry, Saint! What brings you two to the library?" You smile and ask as you hold a small stack of books, unaware that Saint was scanning the titles so he could ask you next time which was your favorite. Saint smiles and holds Henry's shoulder, laughing slightly. "Poor boy practically cried and threw a fit demanding we come to the library because he wanted to read and play in the kids section!" You were far too busy to see Henry glaring at Saint, his eyes darkening as you smiled and talked to him.

Saint, who finally asks you out on a proper date (you don't know of course that the date will be your last in a while, he already has your room set up in his cabin. Henry helped him pick everything out, the kid loved you too much to let his idiot of a grandfather make you feel unhappy.) When you accepted he smiled and offered to pick you up, you spent the rest of the day smiling and giggling as Henry clung to your leg pouting.

That night, you had a lovely date, perfect in every way, Saint was the perfect gentleman. Letting you order whatever you wanted and asking about your interests and life. He even insisted you call him by his actual name, Nicolas. He loved the way it rolled off your tongue, could only imagine you moaning and whimpering it as he went down on you later on-

You felt woozy during the last bit of the date, had you drank more than you thought, no way... you couldn't have, you looked up over at him, Saint looked perfectly fine, not like you. You stumbled slightly out your seat, he was there, holding you steady. "Oh dear, poor thing, let's get you home yeah sweetheart? You had lots to drink, I'll get your dessert to go." He murmured in your ear, holding you closely to his side his large hand firmly on your hip, keeping you near him.

The last thing you remember before passing out was Saint, helping you to his car. Hand on your hips as he assured you everything was alright, that you were just tipsy. Something in his voice made you feel weird but it got overshadowed by your head muddling as you whimpered softly and promptly passed out. You never knew that he drugged you, he wasn't a monster. He just needed you woozy enough to get you to his cabin.

"Don't look at me like that little brat, they're just unconscious. What? You gonna sleep by their bedside to protect their virtue?" "Yeah, because I don't trust you, grandfather." "You little fucker- Jesus! Did you just bite me?!"

[ask-the-prose]

Do Your Research

This phrase is regularly thrown around writeblr and for good reason. It's important to research what you are writing about to know what to include, what can be fudged, and how to depict whatever you're writing. I see "do your research" most thrown around by well-meaning and highly traditionally educated writers. It's solid advice, after all!

But how do you research?

For those writers who don't already have the research skills necessary to write something comfortably already downloaded into your brain, I put this guide together for you.

Where do I even start?

It's a daunting task, research. But the best place to start is with the most basic, stupidest question you can think of. I'm going to talk about something that I already know a lot about: fighting.

When researching fight scenes, a great way to start is to look up what different weapons are. There are tons out there! So ask the stupid questions. What is a sword? What is a gun? How heavy are they?

Google and Wikipedia can help you a lot with these basic-level questions. They aren't great sources for academic articles, but remember, this is fiction. It doesn't need to be perfect, and it doesn't need to be 100% accurate if you don't want it to be. But knowing what is true to life will help you write well. Just like knowing the rules of writing will help you break them.

You may find in your basic research sweep that you have a lot more specific questions. Write them all down. It doesn't matter if they seem obvious. Write them down because they will be useful later.

How To Use Wikipedia Correctly

Wikipedia is a testament to cooperative human knowledge. It's also easy to edit by anonymous users, which means there is a lot of room for inaccuracies and misleading information. Wikipedia is usually pretty good about flagging when a source is needed or when misleading language is obvious, but Wikipedia itself isn't always the most accurate or in-depth source.

Wikipedia is, however, an excellent collection of sources. When I'm researching a subject that I know nothing about, say Norse mythology, a good starting point is the Wikipedia page for Odin. You'll get a little background on Odin's name and Germanic roots, a little backstory on some of the stories, where they appear, and how they are told.

When you read one of the sentences, and it sparks a new question, write the question down, and then click on the superscript number. This will take you directly to the linked source for the stated fact. Click through to that source. Now you have the source where the claim was made. This source may not be a primary source, but a secondary source can still lead you to new discoveries and details that will help you.

By "source-hopping," you can find your way across the internet to different pieces of information more reliably. This information may repeat itself, but you will also find new sources and new avenues of information that can be just as useful.

You mean I don't need a library?

Use your library. Libraries in many parts of the US are free to join, and they have a wealth of information that can be easily downloaded online or accessed via hardcopy books.

You don't, however, need to read every source in the library for any given topic, and you certainly don't need to read the whole book. Academic books are different from fiction. Often their chapters are divided by topic and concept and not by chronological events like a history textbook.

For example, one of my favorite academic books about legislative policy and how policy is passed in the US, by John Kingdon, discusses multiple concepts. These concepts build off one another, but ultimately if you want to know about one specific concept, you can skip to that chapter. This is common in sociological academic books as well.

Going off of my Norse Mythology example in the last section, a book detailing the Norse deities and the stories connected to them will include chapters on each member of the major pantheon. But if I only care about Odin, I can focus on just the chapters about Odin.

Academic Articles and How To Read Them

I know you all know how to read. But learning how to read academic articles and books is a skill unto itself. It's one I didn't quite fully grasp until grad school. Learn to skim. When looking at articles published in journals that include original research, they tend to follow a set structure, and the order in which you read them is not obvious. At all.

Start with the abstract. This is a summary of the paper that will include, in about half a page to a page, the research question, hypothesis, methods/analysis, and conclusions. This abstract will help you determine if the answer to your question is even in this article. Are they asking the right question?

Next, read the research question and hypothesis. The hypothesis will include details about the theory and why the researcher thinks what they think. The literature review will go into much more depth about theories, what other people have done and said, and how that ties into the research of the present article. You don't need to read that just yet.

Skim the methods and analysis section. Look at every data table and graph included and try to find patterns yourself. You don't need to read every word of this section, especially if you don't understand a lot of the words and jargon used. Some key points to consider are: qualitative vs. quantitative data, sample size, confounding factors, and results.

(Some definitions for those of you who are unfamiliar with these terms. Qualitative data is data that cannot be quantified into a number. These are usually stories and anecdotes. Quantitative data is data that can be transferred into a numerical representation. You can't graph qualitative data (directly), but you can graph quantitative data. Sample size is the number of people or things counted (n when used in academic articles). Your sample size can indicate how generalizable your conclusions are. So pay attention. Did the author interview 300 subjects? Or 30? There will be a difference. A confounding factor is a factor that may affect the working theory. An example of a theory would be "increasing LGBTQ resources in a neighborhood would decrease LGBTQ hate crimes in that area." A confounding factor would be "increased reporting of hate crimes in the area." The theory, including the confounding factor, would look like "increasing LGBTQ resources in a neighborhood would increase the reporting of hate crimes in the area, which increases the number of hate crimes measured in that area." The confounding factor changes the outcome because it is a factor not considered in the original theory. When looking at research, see if you can think of anything that may change the theory based on how that factor interacts with the broader concept. Finally, the results are different from the conclusions. The results tell you what the methods spit out. Analysis tells you what the results say, and conclusions tell you what generalizations can be made based on the analysis.)

Next, read the conclusion section. This section will tell you what general conclusions can be made from the information found in the paper. This will tell you what the author found in their research.

Finally, once you've done all that, go back to the literature review section. You don't have to read it necessarily, but reading it will give you an idea of what is in each sourced paper. Take note of the authors and papers sourced in the literature review and repeat the process on those papers. You will get a wide variety of expert opinions on whatever concept or niche you're researching.

Starting to notice a pattern?

My research methods may not necessarily work for everybody, but they are pretty standard practice. You may notice that throughout this guide, I've told you to "source-hop" or follow the sources cited in whatever source you find first. This is incredibly important. You need to know who people are citing when they make claims.

This guide focused on secondary sources for most of the guide. Primary sources are slightly different. Primary sources require understanding the person who created the source, who they were, and their motivations. You also may need to do a little digging into what certain words or phrases meant at the time it was written based on what you are researching. The Prose Edda, for example, is a telling of the Norse mythology stories written by an Icelandic historian in the 13th century. If you do not speak the language spoken in Iceland in 1232, you probably won't be able to read anything close to the original document. In fact, the document was lost for about 300 years. Now there are translations, and those translations are as close to the primary source you can get on Norse Mythology. But even then, you are reading through several veils of translation. Take these things into account when analyzing primary documents.

Research Takes Practice

You won't get everything you need to know immediately. And researching subjects you have no background knowledge of can be daunting, confusing, and frustrating. It takes practice. I learned how to research through higher formal education. But you don't need a degree to write, so why should you need a degree to collect information? I genuinely hope this guide helps others peel away some of the confusion and frustration so they can collect knowledge as voraciously as I do.

– Indy

[yikesharringrove]

Billy's always loved libraries.

He fucking loves books, has since he was a little kid.

But he just loves everything about them.

In California, he loved the air conditioning. He loved the fact he could find some random corner and not have to go home for hours and hours. He loved that he could read whatever he wanted for free. He loved that if he didn't actually take it home with him, his dad couldn't give him shit for the books he read at an alarming pace.

In Hawkins, it was a place to hide.

Nobody expected Billy Hargrove to be tucked away in the very back of the library, his nose in a book.

And to be fair, he hadn't expected Steve Harrington to be in the library, either.

Billy didn't even know his name the first time he saw him.

Steve had a cart next to him, and was reshelving books, humming quietly to himself.

Billy was fresh to Hawkins, and all he knew was that this town was shitty, and that boy was absolutely beautiful.

In a few days, when he was finally enrolled at the high school, he learned the boy's name.

Steve Harrington.

The stories about him were so different than Billy expected. The tales of the wild party boy, the wannabe bully with a short fuse and a shitty right hook.

Everything he had seen in the library was contradictory to everything he now knew.

Steve wasn't much of a presence at school. He was quiet in his classes, often daydreaming out of the window, or doodling sleepily on his meager notes.

Billy sat one row beside and two seats behind him in calculus, and he had noticed the large red grades at the top of each of his assignments. The low scores and the come see me! scrawled in the teacher's writing.

His ineptitude at school fit somewhere in the middle of the two Steves Billy had come to think about.

Mean party animal Steve didn't care about school. Didn't study and smirked at failing grades.

Library worker Steve blinked tears out of his eyes and stayed behind in class to explain to the teacher I promise, I studied so hard. I don't know what happened, I studied every night last week.

Billy had decided, he liked both versions of Steve. He liked the one with a snarl on his lips and a glint in his eye when Tommy H. said something fucking stupid. He liked the one who showed kids to the childrens' section with a soft smile and gave them a high five when they found a book to check out.

It took a few days for Steve to become aware of the shadow in the library, following his every move as he went through his shift.

The new guy at school. Billy Hargrove.

Metal head lady killer. Who gets into fights and flirts with everyone with a pair of tits.

Who sits in the library and reads Emily Bronté.

He smiled at Steve when they first made eye contact across the reference desk, and Steve thinks he must be imagining the wink thrown his way.

Billy had spread out on one of the desks near the back, his calculus textbook open, notes strewn about.

They had a test the following day that Billy was studying for.

Steve had kinda already accepted the failing he was probably going to earn.

But maybe...

Steve's shift is up in half an hour.

Luckily, Billy stayed put where he was, Walkman headphones over his ears, pouring over notes and example problems.

Steve knocked on the table top like a dork.

Billy looked up at him, and whoa, his eyes are so blue. He pulled his headphones down.

"Hi, uh, Billy, right?" Steve's face felt hot, but Billy just nodded. "Um, we're in the same calculus class-"

"I know. I've noticed you in there."

Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Yeah. Well. I suck as math, and-"

"Do you want to study with me?"

And Billy liked the look on Steve's face. The eye-crinkled grateful smile. It was in between the Steves he knew. It was kind, but he laughed at himself easily.

"Thanks, man. I appreciate it. I mean, I'm stupid at calculus."

"Nah," Steve liked the way Billy brushed off Steve's insecure commentary. "This shit is hard. You wanna do some practice problems?"

[satans-helper]

In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library. 

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart. 

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows. 

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.” 

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny. 

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf.  “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.” 

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next. 

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!” 

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued. 

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment? 

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.” 

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim. 

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.” 

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves. 

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

-

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job. 

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before. 

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that. 

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between. 

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss. 

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues. 

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy. 

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity. 

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity. 

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt. 

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open. 

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs. 

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next. 

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him. 

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced. 

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you. 

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement. 

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more. 

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you. 

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic. 

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.” 

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.” 

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

---

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[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ when i'm alone ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @lokotrona11 ˚₊ ⊹

ft. peter pevensie x f! reader — the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ peter meets a bookworm who makes life in london a bit more bearable┊1.3k words (prt two coming soon)

setting: england after the golden age contains: exposition, first meetings, strangers to friends, minor blood & injury & mentions of fights

➤ author's note: the very first narnia request i received!! there will be a part two that’s further into their relationship and includes more of the request, so please look forward to that (it will be better than this one, trust me, i just thought this meeting would be cute)!

to say adjusting to life back in england was difficult would be an understatement. although it was nice to see his mother again and the familiar landscape of where he grew up, it doesn’t change the fact that it was a complete accident as a result of them exploring during a hunt and going back towards the wardrobe’s tunnel in nostalgic curiosity. all of the siblings would be lying if they said that home had the same magic spark that narnia did with the gray skies and the nauseous smell of pollution, but at least they had the wonders of modern technology here like lightbulbs rather than wax candles. it was even a shock for them to remember that they are no longer the only humans in the world, that animals didn’t talk anymore, and that mythical creatures like centaurs and griffins were only real in fiction. however, the most difficult change for peter by far was the fact that he was no longer the king of a fantastical land, instead he was now some nineteen-year-old boy who wasn’t taken seriously and was often told to go off and do literally anything else that isn’t meddling in adult affairs. it’s common knowledge that he was always very mature for his age since he’s constantly looking out for the younger ones, but it was such a drastic change for him to already be acting like he was in charge of everyone after just a few weeks in the countryside and even wondered what the eccentric professor must have taught him for him to come back acting all high and mighty.

he’s tried so hard to go back to being a normal boy, yet he struggles to hide the regality in the way he acts and the air of superiority he holds. the other former royals are used to his behavior even before being crowned, but soon he found himself isolated from others his age no matter how close they were previously and getting into physical fights with anyone crosses him. he was no longer used to holding his head low when disrespected and now that he’s had a taste for being held in high esteem, he would no longer tolerate it and was now known as a troublesome person whom most people steered clear of.

although his family was concerned for him, peter didn’t seem to have cared less about how quickly his reputation plummeted and he spent his days as a loner. he often found himself exploring the city’s largest library instead of playing sports or getting a job since no one wanted to hire a rebel, reading through overly complicated books about portals and other dimensions. he knew that science wouldn’t be able to explain the phenomenon that he experienced since it was magic, but studying up on the subject made him feel a little bit better that there were other people around the world exploring the subject.

the entire section dedicated to this field of knowledge was in a far corner quite a ways from the entrance, a dusty little space a tad bit darker than everywhere else, and never had a soul near it which made it the perfect place for him to brood and be alone for the most part. the only other person he saw there occasionally was you, someone he only saw through passing within school hallways and heard about receiving academic prizes all the time. while classes were out, he fully believed you had already read all the books in the building. you were there from the moment the sign was flipped to “open” until the moment the librarian told you it was closing time, never thoughtlessly roaming around since you always walked with purpose knowing exactly what you were looking for, and often seen carrying books that towered over your head threatening to tilt over.

despite seeing you every single day, he never really had the chance to talk to you. you seemed so… untouchable… like you didn’t have the time or place to spare for people who weren’t in your schedule. he wonders if he used to appear like that to others back in narnia when he was rarely approached by anyone who wasn’t one of his siblings, but at least he had the excuse of being a high monarch— what was yours? it was the first time he found himself curious and thinking about something else that wasn’t his former life.

turns out, peter’s chance came to him when he least expected it and when he was in his most vulnerable state: freshly bruised and cut up after a fight with a gang of middle schoolers over stepped-on toes. he’s landed himself in this situation countless of times yet still never learns his lesson to leave it alone before it escalates. fortunately, he got to witness the satisfying conclusion of the leader getting dragged away by his mother, but he was really the one with the egg on his face when he barely managed to get in a single punch while he ended up with a busted lip. to say he was pissed off was an understatement, but frankly, emotions that weren’t anger or longing didn’t come to him much anymore. he didn’t want to get a scolding from his family about he should have been more careful again so he wandered back into the library to take care of himself in his usual corner, unwittingly catching your eye on his way and leading you to him.

neither of you said anything when you walked up to him with a first-aid kit in hand as you used your eyes to ask for permission to patch him up and he simply nodded to grant it, the silence being more tense than awkward. you wrapped bandages around his aching knuckles, applied ointment to his wounds, and uttered nothing but a “hold still” when he hissed in response to the sharp pain of hydrogen peroxide on his lip. he didn’t even feel your skin against his, just feather-light touches that tickled him slightly as he intently looked at you while you were focused. he’s never seen you up close before so he took the opportunity to study your features, slowly realizing that he developed a crush on you at some point and immediately straightening his posture to act like he wasn’t staring when you glanced back at him.

“you’re… the guy who’s always reading about different dimensions, right? your name is... peter?”

“yeah… that’s me.” he's surprised that you knew anything about him at all, much less his name and the books he was reading. considering that you were always in your own little world, it meant that you paid more attention to your surroundings than he originally thought.

“have you visited any other realms lately?” your tone was serious, but the absurdity of the question made it sound like a joke.

“you wouldn’t believe me, it sounds ridiculous.”

“really? i’ve heard all kinds of tales, i doubt it would be even close to the worst one.” you weren’t sure why you were the first to start the conversation when you never cared for your peers or what they had to say before.

“well… it all started when we left for the countryside and my youngest sister wanted to play hide and seek…” he wasn’t sure why he was telling you about the wardrobe and narnia when he refused to open up about it to anyone other than his siblings, but it felt right to do it. at best, you’ll believe him and he’ll have someone to talk to. at worst, a cute girl will think that he’s crazy.

neither of you were quite sure about the reasons behind this conversion, but perhaps there didn’t need to be one as long as it felt like the right thing to do.

request [ I didn't find your requests so I'm writing to you here 😅 I wanted to ask Peter falling in love with a bookworm (they only see each other in the library in the last hallway and she's shy and all that) (in the second movie) in London, as if she were the one capable of removing his anger for a while and Peter felt calm with that little girl. (If you write smut with +18 at the end or just fluffy, whatever you choose) ]

[louvemione]

illicit affairs (part two) — d. malfoy (draco's pov)

synopsis : Draco watched as Y/n slowly walked out of his life and wonders why their relationship is considered illicit.

warning/s : angst, fluff if you squint hard enough, profanity, written in first person, pureblood! reader (this isn't really important & would only be implied)

author's note : like promised, here is part two of illicit affairs 🥳 but i feel like i didn't write it properly 🥲 hopefully, you guys get the message i'm trying to get through!

<- part one | part three ->

leave the perfume on the shelf

that you picked out just for him

sixth year

"why is it that you no longer wear your signature perfume? I used to love it" that was probably a dumb and unnecessary question to ask

but can you blame me? I just need the slightest reasons and I would gladly start a conversation with her. as crazy as it sounds, I'd most definitely take every opportunity to talk to her.

she was silent for a moment, luckily it was only us sitting by the fire, "there's absolutely no reason for me to wear it but i'm glad you loved it"

i hate this. i hate the awkward silence between me and her, i hate that she's distancing herself from me and i hate that i am pretty much aware of it, i hate not being able to tell her how much i adore her, i hate not being true to myself, i hate—

"i'll go to my dorms now, it was nice talking to you" she didn't wait for my response and continued to walk to her dormitory, i hate when she's formal, it's as if we weren't friends.

so you leave no trace behind

like you don't even exist

"good morning!" I say, rather awkwardly than I hoped for it to

"hello, Draco" she smiled and walked past me

I watched her retreating figure like I always do now that she tries to cut every interaction short.

I hate it.

I hate it when she acts as if nothing ever happened between us. I hate that she no longer wears her perfume. I hate that she's slowly starting to slip past my finger tips.

I fucking hate it.

because she was leaving my life, slowly. so slow that I could see her disappear bit by bit. like, she was packing her things to move else where.

from her presence, to her perfume. it's as if she never even existed with how carefully everything connecting to her disappeared from my life.

take the words for what they are

a dwindling, mercurial high

"you look gorgeous" I whispered, hoping that it was loud enough for y/n to hear, hoping that she knew that it was directed at her, not Astoria.

I felt guilty for dancing with my soon-to-be wife and wishing it was y/n I'm holding.

soon enough, when Harry and Y/n stopped dancing, I excused myself.

"I'll go out for a moment" not waiting for Astoria's reply, I started walking away. I walked behind Y/n, grazing my hand against her waist in the process, hoping that she gets the message.

and that's how we ended up in the restricted section of the library, where we spent the next hour hugging and exchanging kisses and i love you's while looking through the different books in the shelves.

i love you, looking back, I started to wonder whether or not she took my words seriously.

"impossible! he can't...actually mean it!"

but according to the conversation I overheard, she took it as a dwindling, mercurial high.

a drug that only worked

"we're okay, we'll figure this out together, but let's not think of that for now" my kisses were denied when she pushed my head away and sat up.

"we all know we can't do anything about it" she argued and pushed me off, "listen, baby, we shouldn't restrict ourselves from loving who we want and I definitely won't spend my life married to someone I don't love, so believe me, I'll do something about it"

"but you two are set for marriage—"

"but I love you, not her" she stayed silent and I smiled, "so, do you trust me?"

"yeah, of course, I do"

the first few hundred times

"do you not trust me?!"

"NO! I FUCKING DON'T!"

and that's the thing about illicit affairs

and clandestine meetings and stolen stares

illicit? our relationship is nowhere near illicit.

it's not wrong to love someone, what's wrong is to pretend to love someone.

if it were Astoria I'm in a relationship with, that's illicit. but y/n? why would our relationship be illicit? because I'm bound to marry someone I don't want to marry?

"you okay, mate?" only then did I realize that I have been gripping my knife so tightly as I watched as she laughed with Saint Potter.

"we know you've been...feeling bad since she ended things with you but—"

"I just don't understand! why now? why—"

"why not now, Draco? did you think she'd want to wait 'til your wedding before breaking it off?"

"there will be no wedding!"

"oh I wouldn't be so sure if I were you" Daphne says, "my mum wrote to me this morning and mentioned that they might start planning yours and Astoria's wedding, if I were you, I'd start getting into action"

I spent the rest of supper thinking and secretly staring at y/n, who seemed to be doing the same.

they show their truth one single time

"i love you"

but they lie, and they lie, and they lie

"do you love me, still?" I say, not too bothered by the students who I knew were eavesdropping in our conversation

"as a friend, yeah"

we both know she's lying. and I know she's aware of the fact that I know she's lying.

a million little times

© louvemione on tumblr | do not steal, copy, translate or repost

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Why I don't think Harry actually likes Ginny

So, I don't like Hinny. I don't buy the relationship between them for multiple reasons. The first of which is that I believe Harry Potter is gay (or at least, not attracted to women).

The rest, I'm going to cover here. Some of the opinions I have are probably not very popular, but I'm saying what I see evidence for.

Disclaimer: No hate to anyone who does ship Hinny, or likes Ginny, I just don't see it.

He doesn't actually think about her until book 6... like, at all

The most important part of this section is actually what Hary doesn't say about Ginny and not what he does, so I don't have quotes. But I literally scoured the books to find scenes Harry described Ginny's appearance. I looked for words like: "pretty", "beautiful", "attractive", or anything else, really any detailed description that would show he is physically attracted to her. I came out with nothing.

He never calls her pretty or attractive in all seven books. And I mentioned in my post here, how Harry can and does describe attractiveness in people (men) he finds attractive.

The other thing he never mentions is what he likes about Ginny. Like, her personality.

He says he likes her, and he's jealous when she's with Dean in HBP (only halfway through the book, but that's for later in this post), but he never mentions what he likes about her. Ginny talks about why she likes Harry plenty, but Harry seems to have no clue why he's dating Ginny. He supposedly likes her, but doesn't name in his head a single thing he likes about her as a person. The things he does think he likes about her are:

She is comfortable to be around, the same way Ron and Hermoine are.

She doesn't weep like Cho.

She's good at Quidditch.

So that's a brilliant basis for a relationship right there. (sarcasm)

“Harry, I’m talking to you, can you hear me?” “Huh?” He looked around. Ginny Weasley, looking very windswept, had joined him at the library table where he had been sitting alone. It was late on Sunday evening; Hermione had gone back to Gryffindor Tower to review Ancient Runes; Ron had Quidditch practice.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 655)

Ginny approaches him, but nothing, no response, no care. He didn't even notice she was there. Takes him, like, three minutes to recall she's on the Quidditch team and should be at practice with Ron. And when she does talk to him, he actually doesn't explain the full truth. He never actually tells her the full scope of his problems and feelings.

“Hi,” said Ginny uncertainly. “We recognized Harry’s voice — what are you yelling about?” “Never you mind,” said Harry roughly. Ginny raised her eyebrows. “There’s no need to take that tone with me,” she said coolly. “I was only wondering whether I could help.” “Well, you can’t,” said Harry shortly. “You’re being rather rude, you know,” said Luna serenely. Harry swore and turned away. The very last thing he wanted now was a conversation with Luna Lovegood.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 735)

Later in the same book, Harry is downright rude to Ginny, and he's sure Sirius is being tortured at the moment, so I get it. But, also, the fact he reacts more to Luna telling him he's rude than to Ginny... like, that's telling on which of the two girls' opinions Harry cares more. And it's not Ginny. After Luna calls him out, he actually stops snapping at them. With Ginny, he just continued being snappy and rude to her.

“Michael — but —” said Ron, craning around in his seat to stare at her. “But you were going out with him!” “Not anymore,” said Ginny resolutely. “He didn’t like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead.” She scratched her nose absently with the end of her quill, turned The Quibbler upside down, and began marking her answers. Ron looked highly delighted. “Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot,” he said, prodding his queen forward toward Harry’s quivering castle. “Good for you. Just choose someone — better — next time.” He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it. “Well, I’ve chosen Dean Thomas, would you say he’s better?” asked Ginny vaguely. “WHAT?” shouted Ron, upending the chessboard. Crookshanks went plunging after the pieces and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon twittered and hooted angrily from overhead. As the train slowed down in the approach to King’s Cross, Harry thought he had never wanted to leave it less. He even wondered fleetingly what would happen if he simply refused to get off, but remained stubbornly sitting there until the first of September, when it would take him back to Hogwarts.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 866)

Some like to say Hinny didn't come out of nowhere, but it did. It's clear that at the end of book 5 Harry doesn't give a shit who Ginny is dating. He's thinking about Sirius, he's mourning, of course, but he is still mourning him in book 6 and it didn't stop his jealous rage towards Dean then.

The fact is, up until like halfway through book 6 there are no signs he is interested in Ginny romanticly.

“Fancy trying to find a compartment?” “I can’t, Harry, I said I’d meet Dean,” said Ginny brightly. “See you later.” “Right,” said Harry. He felt a strange twinge of annoyance as she walked away, her long red hair dancing behind her; he had become so used to her presence over the summer that he had almost forgotten that Ginny did not hang around with him, Ron, and Hermione while at school. Then he blinked and looked around: He was surrounded by mesmerized girls.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 136)

Two notes here.

Firstly, this is at the beginning of HBP, still no signs from Harry of jealousy. He likes Ginny as a friend and gets used to her presence. That is literally what their relationship is built on. Him being used to her presence. Still, he doesn't care in the slightest who she is dating.

Secondly, what follows this scene is Harry running away from all his adoring fangirls with the help of Neville. Because Harry is not attracted to women and is not interested in any of their attention.

Harry told Ron and Hermione, pulling open the parchment and quickly reading its contents [note from Dumbledore]. “Monday evening!” He felt suddenly light and happy. “Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?” he asked. “I’m going with Dean — might see you there,” she replied, waving at them as she left.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 242)

Again, no jealousy. His entire problem with Dean and Ginny dating started really late into book 6 and there was basically no buildup.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry did not return, as the newborn monster inside him was roaring for Dean’s instant dismissal from the team.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 287)

Now, I wanna talk a little bit about Harry's jealousy towards Dean and how he describes his emotions about Ginny. Ginny is the only character he describes his emotions about in this way. And it's... well, weird to say the least. Definitely off. The first time I read it I had to reread it to make sure I actually read it correctly.

Like, the only times he thinks about his emotions towards Ginny, are in jealousy. He doesn't like when other guys date her, but he never really thinks that he likes her, or what he likes about her. Or anything at all, positive or negative.

And, back to the description being odd, well, I'll get to it later in this post about why I think Harry convinced himself he likes Ginny and why his emotions about her are described the way they are.

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running toward him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.

...

The creature in his chest roaring in triumph, he grinned down at Ginny and gestured wordlessly out of the portrait hole. A long walk in the grounds seemed indicated, during which — if they had time — they might discuss the match.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 533-534)

I want to talk about Harry's feelings regarding Ginny and kissing her, or, well, lack of their off. You know, after a first kiss, with a girl he supposedly likes, I expected something more emotional, more involved. I expect him to actually care.

But no. He doesn't describe the kiss at all actually, or his feelings. There are no butterflies in his stomach, no head spinning, nothing. Just his chest monster feeling triumphant.

This is insane, this is not the reaction to kissing someone you like. Or even feel mildly attracted to. Where are the nerves and excitement? They aren't there.

He had more emotions about his first kiss with Cho. They weren't positive emotions, but these were emotions.

The second thing about their first kiss is how the text pretty clearly insinuates they made out throughout their whole walk. This actually reminds me a lot of Ron and Lavender in book 6:

“Well, think back,” said Harry. “Have you ever let it slip that you’d like to go out in public with the words ‘My Sweetheart’ round your neck?” “Well . . . we don’t really talk much,” said Ron. “It’s mainly . . .” “Snogging,” said Harry. “Well, yeah,” said Ron.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 338)

They don't really have much of a relationship. They make out, but they don't talk, they don't share anything with each other, they don't really like each other — they barely know each other.

Harry and Ginny are much the same. Ginny is in love with the idea of Harry Potter, and Harry for some reason decideded he likes Ginny even though he can't name a single personality trait she possesses.

“And then what does she think’s going to happen?” Harry muttered. “Someone else might kill off Voldemort while she’s holding us here making vol-auvents?” He had spoken without thinking, and saw Ginny’s face whiten. “So it’s true?” She said, “That’s what you’re trying to do?” “I—not—I was joking,” said Harry evasively. They stared at each other, and there was something more than shock in Ginny’s expression. Suddenly Harry became aware that this was the first time that he had been alone with her since their stolen hours in secluded corners of the Hogwarts grounds. He was sure she was remembering them too. Both of them jumped as the door opened, and Mr. Weasley, Kingsley, and Bill walked in.

(Deathly Hollows, page 82)

Like, there is quite a bit I want to unpack here.

Firstly, Harry didn't bother telling Ginny that he, Ron, and Hermione were planning on leaving. That they are going to go and stop Voldemort. Well, he didn't tell her about the Horcruxes, or any of his experiences, really. I don't think she knows he cast a Crocio at Bellatrix at the end of fifth year.

Like, Harry does not share his life with Ginny. At all. Her reaction is quite telling.

But also, even after he broke up with her already at the end of HBP. Still, Ginny is constantly trying to drag him back to be with her. She isn't letting Harry break up with her. And, that just really doesn't sit well with me. Harry didn't even consider it until he saw how Ginny was eying him, she's the one who thought they should make out. Harry was trying to stay broken up with her.

Ginny looked up into Harry’s face, took a deep breath, and said, “Happy seventeenth.” “Yeah. . . thanks.” She was looking at him steadily; he, however, found it difficult to look back at her; it was like gazing into a brilliant light.

...

He chanced a glance at her. She was not tearful; that was one of the many wonderful things about Ginny, she was rarely weepy. He had sometimes thought that having six brothers must have toughened her up.

(Deathly Hollows, page 103)

Again, after Harry breaks up with her, she tries to drag him back. He doesn't want to look at her. And as romantic as "gazing into a brilliant light" sounds, usually doing that hurts your eyes and is really not something you want to do. Besides, when you really like someone, you want to look at them, you want to stare at their stupid face for as long as they let you.

Harry clearly doesn't.

The other thing to note about this passage is the wonderful thing Harry can name about Ginny, is that she never cries. Yes, amazing reason to date someone, Harry.

However, Ron did not appear on the map, and after a while Harry found himself taking it out simply to stare at Ginny’s name in the girls’ dormitory, wondering whether the intensity with which he gazed at it might break into her sleep, that she would somehow know he was thinking about her, hoping that she was all right.

(Deathly Hollows, page 270)

Even when pulling out the Marauder’s Map to watch her dot Harry's thoughts are just to make sure she's alright, the same reason he watches out for Ron on the map after he leaves them. Hoping to see he's alright. Harry would do it to any friend he felt strongly about, it's not just Ginny. She doesn't get special treatment in his mind.

Ginny Clearly likes him though, quite obsessively so, even as they grow older...

Ginny made it no secret she liked Harry in her first year with the Valentine's Day poem. The thing is, she never really stopped liking him, she didn't move on from that childhood crush. Quite the opposite actually.

“I never really gave up on you,” she said. “Not really. I always hoped. . . . Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more — myself.” “Smart girl, that Hermione,” said Harry, trying to smile. “I just wish I’d asked you sooner. We could’ve had ages . . . months . . . years maybe. . . .” “But you’ve been too busy saving the Wizarding world,” said Ginny, half laughing. “Well . . . I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 647)

Ginny says at the top of this quote something I already talked about, but I'll say it again. She never gave up on Harry, she thinks them ending up together is fate. And she dated other guys throughout her fourth and fifth year to get Harry to notice her.

That is so gross, I don't even know where to start. I mean, she used a bunch of random guys, who all liked her, only to get Harry. She didn't care about their feelings, or these guys as real human beings, just that they could help her get Harry. And that is awful and one of the reasons I dislike Ginny.

The second part I bolded is Ginny explaining again, that she knew she and Harry were fated — this isn't romantic, this is terrifying and paints all her previous relationships in a really bad light.

She also mentions there she likes Harry, and that she likes that he's this saviour who needs to hunt down Voldemort. Now, first, she is clearly in love with the idea of the Boy-Who-Lived, and not Harry himself, because what she likes about him is his nobility and savior complex. Not just here, but in general.

While Harry definitely is heroic, he is also cunning, and clever, has some serious anger management issues, and isn't as noble as Ginny likes to paint him as. I feel like, here, when she says what she likes about him, she doesn't really know him. Harry doesn't want to hunt down Voldemort, he feels it's his responsibility. He would've been happy to be able to live his life without them being threatened constantly.

His 'saving people thing' is because he considers endangering himself less bad than endangering someone else. That's his low self-esteem talking, not his thirst for adventure. That and his (honestly correct) conclusion that he can't count on the adults or other people to do what needs to be done. Also, his sense of responsibility due to the prophecy, which he didn't really tell Ginny about in full. the prophecy and Dumbledore made him feel Voldemort is his problem to solve. It's not that he's happy about it. Ginny is in love with an ideal, not with the actual Harry Potter.

(I'll get to Harry's words here later)

Ginny caught Harry’s eye and looked away quickly, grinning.

(Order of the Pheonix, page 848)

And when going back to Harry's fifth year, even then (while she technically has a boyfriend) she is trying to get Harry's attention and is flirting with him. Not that Harry notices it's flirting because he doesn't think of Ginny in that way.

But Ron held up a hand to silence her. “She was really cut up when you ended it—” “So was I. You know why I stopped it, and it wasn’t because I wanted to.” “Yeah, but you go snogging her now and she’s just going to get her hopes up again—” “She’s not an idiot, she knows it can’t happen, she’s not expecting us to—to end up married, or—”

(Deathly Hollows, page 104)

I mentioned it above, but Ginny is the one who dragged Harry to make out with her, it wasn't Harry who initiated it. She does this after Harry broke up with her, which... well... yeah. I mean, at least Harry was willing, right?

And Harry says she isn't thinking about marriage, but Ginny definitely is. Remember, she thinks they are fated to end up together.

Now, as to why Harry is dating her and thinks he likes her...

I think she might have used a love potion...

Now, I know, I know, honestly, this is a theory I doubted for a long time. I mean, there's no way.

But I'm rereading the books right now, and ehh... I think whoever came up with this might have been onto something. It's kind of creepy actually.

Mrs. Weasley was telling Hermione and Ginny about a love potion she’d made as a young girl. All three of them were rather giggly.

(Prisoner of Azkaban, page 70)

Love potions are a thing in the Wizarding World. They are legal to sell and use with no consequences. They are banned at Hogwarts, but we saw it doesn't mean much considering Romilda Vane snuck quite a bit in...

What I show in the above quote is how witches like Molly Weasly see love potions as a legitimate thing to giggle about. As if it isn't a horrifying rape drug that takes away someone's autonomy! Love potions aren't something to giggle about. And they're definitely not something to giggle about with two young girls...

But this is to explain, how to Ginny, who thinks she and Harry are meant to end up together, using a love potion would seem completely legitimate. It's a little, funny nudge, but it's not bad. Her mother used it, and so many other girls did too. Because it isn't treated as the horrifying thing it is. She grew up thinking of it as a legitimate measure to take if a boy you like doesn't notice you. A measure that she wouldn't be even punished for if it was found out.

Now, this is a long quote, but this is the one that made me even consider this theory as a possibility:

She hoisted a box wrapped in brown paper onto the table; it had clearly been unwrapped and carelessly rewrapped, and there was a scribbled note across it in red ink, reading inspected and passed by the hogwarts high inquisitor. “It’s Easter eggs from Mum,” said Ginny. “There’s one for you. . . . There you go. . . .” She handed him a handsome chocolate egg decorated with small, iced Snitches and, according to the packaging, containing a bag of Fizzing Whizbees. Harry looked at it for a moment, then, to his horror, felt a hard lump rise in his throat. “Are you okay, Harry?” asked Ginny quietly. “Yeah, I’m fine,” said Harry gruffly. The lump in his throat was painful. He did not understand why an Easter egg should have made him feel like this. “You seem really down lately,” Ginny persisted. “You know, I’m sure if you just talked to Cho . . .” “It’s not Cho I want to talk to,” said Harry brusquely. “Who is it, then?” asked Ginny. “I . . .” He glanced around to make quite sure that nobody was listening; Madam Pince was several shelves away, stamping out a pile of books for a frantic-looking Hannah Abbott. “I wish I could talk to Sirius,” he muttered. “But I know I can’t.” More to give himself something to do than because he really wanted any, Harry unwrapped his Easter egg, broke off a large bit, and put it into his mouth. “Well,” said Ginny slowly, helping herself to a bit of egg too, “if you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it. . . .” “Come on,” said Harry hopelessly. “With Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?” “The thing about growing up with Fred and George,” said Ginny thoughtfully, “is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.” Harry looked at her. Perhaps it was the effect of the chocolate — Lupin had always advised eating some after encounters with dementors — or simply because he had finally spoken aloud the wish that had been burning inside him for a week, but he felt a bit more hopeful. . . .

(Order of the Pheonix, page 655)

Now, Harry, first, gets really weird about the Easter Egg. Why an Easter Egg would cause a lump in his throat, I have no idea. Maybe it smelled weird?

He didn't really want to eat the chocolate, he felt bad about it, which is again, very strange phrasing. especially as I think Harry's instincts are pretty decent, especially when it comes to potential danger. Ginny isn't mentioned eating from his chocolate, she's implied to be eating a different chocolate egg.

But the final section I bolded is the one I really want to talk about.

Harry didn't even notice Ginny approach him. Throughout this scene, he doesn't describe anything about her or his emotions for her. Then, he looks at her and feels more hopeful in a way he hasn't before, and he blames it on the chocolate. That's so incredibly strange.

So I read that, then read it again, and started thinking a love potion might be a possibility.

It'll explain why Harry thinks he likes Ginny and wants to make out with her, without once mentioning he finds her attractive, or that he even likes her personality. It'll also explain the weird way Harry describes his emotions for Ginny, his chest monster, that is. I mean, I believe Harry is gay, what do you think happens when you give a guy who literally can't find you attractive a love potion so he'd like you? He reacts weirdly. His like of you is off and unnatural and disconnected because he isn't affecting him the way it should.

Even when Ron was dosed with the love potion he could name things the potion made him like about Romilda:

“I love her,” repeated Ron breathlessly. “Have you seen her hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky . . . and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her —”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 392)

It's not like Ron could say what he liked about Romilda's personality though, he just knew he needed to be with her and she was perfect. This is frighteningly similar to how Harry thinks of Ginny.

Harry watches for Ginny on the map while traveling in Deathly Hollows. He's constantly drawn to her, but he doesn't have any actual feelings towards her. He wants to marry her but has no clue what her personality is like. He just thinks Ginny is great without knowing why.

Near the window was an array of violently pink products around which a cluster of excited girls was giggling enthusiastically. Hermione and Ginny both hung back, looking wary. “There you go,” said Fred proudly. “Best range of love potions you’ll find anywhere.” Ginny raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Do they work?” she asked. “Certainly they work, for up to twenty-four hours at a time depending on the weight of the boy in question —”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 120)

Now, after the above scene in book 5 which I believe is the first time Ginny tries to dose Harry with a love potion, Harry still isn't dating Ginny, as we all know. What do we see Ginny do early in book 6, the book in which they get together? Try to buy a love potion from Fred and George.

And more importantly, she asks them: "Do they work?"

Why would Ginny ask that if she hadn't already failed with a love potion before?

I think, Harry's not being attracted to women, does affect how love potions effect him and the dosages he will need to be fed. And Ginny clearly isn't giving up on Harry. She said so herself — they were fated.

“Hang on,” said a voice close by Harry’s left ear and he caught a sudden waft of that flowery smell he had picked up in Slughorn’s dungeon. He looked around and saw that Ginny had joined them. “Did I hear right? You’ve been taking orders from something someone wrote in a book, Harry?”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 192)

One of the only things Harry comments about in regarding Ginny is her smell. He only mentions it from year 6 and onwards.

Now, I know JKR intended it to imply Harry smelled Ginny in amortentia and that he's in love with her. The thing is, it could just as easily be read as a smell he associates with Ginny and the Burrow because she dosed him with a love potion already. So he is used to smelling amortentia around Ginny and the Burrow, not because he's in love with her, but because the potion is there.

“There’s the silver lining I’ve been looking for,” she whispered, and then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before, and Harry was kissing her back, and it was blissful oblivion better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world, Ginny, the feel of her, one hand at her back and one in her long, sweet-smelling hair—

(Deathly Hollows, page 103)

When she kisses him after he broke up with her and she's trying to get him back, he mentions the smell of her hair again. How the smell is actually affecting him.

With all the evidence towards Harry not liking women, and the fact he doesn't even find Ginny attractive, I just have a hard time believing this. How can he go from coldly not caring about her in one scene to going into blissful oblivion from the smell of her hair?

Unless there is some variant of a love potion he is getting dosed with.

(I don't think this is a very popular opinion, but there is just so much that's weird about Hinny, that I can't find any other way to explain it in canon)

[the-massive-simp]

Hey I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do a Diluc as a professor (slight nswf if your comfortable 🫢)

OHHHH I LOVE THISSSS HERE U GO BBY<3 I'm sorry this came out like 10 times more nsfw than i intended hehe I did some headcanons + little scenario since its quicker an easier to write for me :)) if u want a full fic feel free to send another ask!!

warnings: mdni, nsfw under the cut (he's a bit of a pervert, semi public sex, unprotected sex [use protections irl!!], fingering, edging, minor age gap, sub afab reader [no pronouns mentioned, but reader wears a skirt], tiniest bit of degration, praising, uhh i think that's everything)

♡Professor!Diluc♡

PLS THIS PROMPT WITH DILUC IM ON MY KNEES FOR HIM

let's get started

so

let's say that you had some troubles with the subject(s) he teaches

he noticed you struggling and asked you after class if you wanted him to give you some private lessons, since he didnt want his favourite little student to fail his class

and how can you deny the opportunity to spend more time with your hot professor? you've had a crush on him for ages!

and don't think he didn't notice

he saw how your cheeks would turn red everytime he spoke or looked at you, how your hands would shake when he gave you back your work or how you would always look for him in the alleys

and he looked at you too, when you bended over to pick up something, unknowingly giving him the opportunity to look at your panties covering your plump ass and your sweet pussy

he'd also notice how pretty you would look in your uniform, shirt squeezing your chest and skirt flowing around your thighs

but he promised himself that this encounters will be strictly professional

just a teacher helping a student in need

but when you arrived to the library for the first lesson he feels like he could catch fire right there and then

your skirt was even shorter than the uniform's one and your stockings hugged your thighs so sweetly

he coughed a bit to hide his amusement, and the he started explaining

he struggled to keep his composure when you bended over the table to point at a specific passage of the book you didn't get

your shirt was slightly unbuttoned and he managed to get a peek of your lacy pink bra

he quickly moved his eyes back to the book, hoping you wouldn't notice his red cheeks

after a couple of this lessons, he was about to give up

he didn't manage to get one thing into your head

he decided that maybe he could try one last method

♡

That's how you ended up on his lap, your back pressed against his toned chest, his muscular arms wrapped against your waist. "Now open the book and start reading chapter 6." As he talked, he pressed you down against his lap, your clothed pussy rubbing against his cock. You bit your lower lip and reached for the book, starting to read aloud. You stuttered the first words, but as you kept reading, your voice got more stable. You were so absorbed by the book you didn't notice his hands moving, until one grabbed your nipple, and the other slipped under your skirt to play with your clothed clit. "You didnt even wear a bra today? What a naughty girl. You better commit yourself to actually learn something and make up for it." "Yes sir- ah!" As you answered, he pinched your clit, making your hips jolt. "Don't make such lewd noises here. We're in a private section of the library, but people can still hear your pretty little voice moaning. The only thing I want to hear is you reading. Go on." You blushed and started reading again. As you kept doing so, his hand slid under your panties and started to circle your clit, doing so for all the time it took you to finish the chapter. "Good girl, I think thats enough for today. Put down the book and enjoy your reward." With that, he inserted a finger in your leaking hole, curling it to hit all the best spots. "Keep quiet. Let's see how many times you can cum for your professor, huh?

after that time, your grades actually got better, so he kept using this special method to help you

he would give you one suck on your clit for every answer you got right when eating you out, and one smack on your ass for every wrong one

the first time you got an A, he decided that you deserved a big reward and he fucked you until you were unable to form coherent sentences

but he also got jealous

when he caught guys eyeing you, he would come to you and ask you if you could follow him to talk about your grades, quickly leading you to the closest bathroom or closet to pump you full of his cum

"Why don't you go and tell them who is the only one who can make you feel good?"

"Imagine what they would say I they found you doing such things with your professor, you pretty little slut"

"Can't even wait for our lesson to have my cock stuffing you, huh?"

after cumming, he would pull up your panties and make you go around with his cum inside all the day

if you ask him nicely, he can give you some more after lessons are finished

after all, who is he to deny a request from his pretty little student?

[dovkss]

bakugou using your mouth in the library during a weekly study date with your friends…

word count: 2.2k

warning: 18+; manhandling; blowjob (m receiving); degradation; slapping; public sex; possessive & controlling katsuki; choking & gagging; cum eating; yandere themes; poor eijiro once again :((

all characters are aged up !!

a/n: quick first drabble from my first story “dumb bitch” since a lot of you asked for a part two but I don’t want to do one, I’ll continue more drabbles from the story if asked ! enjoy ! (^_^)

You and the girls gathered at your usual study spot in the library on a quiet Saturday afternoon. You all were preparing for an exam and knew that studying together would help big time.

Kirishima was also there, like he always was. But he barely spoke. Ever since he discovered you and Bakugou on his bed, sprawled out like heathens, things were awkward to say the least.

You, the girl he’d cared deeply for, had chosen Bakugou over him, and it felt like a dagger was plunged into his soul.

He would think back to before everything went to shit. When classes for the day ended, he would see you leaning on his car when he'd go to the parking lot. You would greet him and lock your arm with his and you both made your way to the other side so he would open the passenger door for you.

You'd beg to go get ice cream or ask if he could take you home so you wouldn't have to take the bus. He would never say no to you, only nod like a dummy. It was like you knew the scent of your perfume made you irresistible to him.

When he would go to open the driver door, the handle would be warm from your ass. The day after the next, you would be back again to do the same thing.

You wanted to apologize to him, but was shut down by Bakugou. His nostrils flared and he rolled his eyes. "He'll get over it, stay away from him. Why? Because I told you to! Don't question me, you're fucking mine."

You respected his wishes, but you felt it was wrong.

You guys settled down at the spacious table, surrounded by shelves stacked with books, each section thoughtfully curated. They housed literary classics, contemporary bestsellers, niche genres, and even rare manuscripts. The atmosphere in the studying section was calm and serene. Soft whispers and the sound of turning pages filled the air.

You opened your rented textbook, and laptop, setting down your regular coffee next to them, ready to dive in.

"God, my head is killing me," Mina whined. Dramatically, she slumped over in her chair and rubbed her temple with two fingers.

"Still? It's been like a week," Momo asked.

"I don't know what's happening to me! Maybe... I'm dying..."

"Don't say that, death isn't funny."

"I never said it was, I'm being serious!"

"You're not gonna die from a headache, Mina. Stop being a baby. Maybe learn how to swallow a pill, it'll help."

Mina groaned and shook her head. "You know I can't do that!"

"Then stop complaining!" Momo snapped back.

You shook your head in disbelief. It seemed that the girls would always find something mundane to argue about. But that was just their dynamic. If there were a day they weren't bickering, you'd be worried.

You glanced up at Kirishima who sat across from you. His head was in his notebook; he was taking notes. You watched him, observing how he studied. His handwriting was a little sloppy, as he seemed to be writing fast. His tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth a little.

He was adorable when he was focused.

He looked up, meeting your gaze. You didn't look away. His red eyes glistened in the sunlight that came through the windows. You smiled at him, being sure to show off your pearly whites.

He sighed and went back to jotting down whatever he was writing. You frowned and opened your mouth to speak up, but you were suddenly yanked up by your arm.

You gasped and dropped the pen that was in your hand. You knew that tight grip of his, it never failed to make you shutter.

"Been tryna reach you for hours, y'know?"

You giggled. "Well I can't be available all the time."

Bakugou wasn't amused. His ears flushed in anger and his jaw clenched.

He dragged you out of the library, you winced when he tightened his grip on you. He was tall, his long strides made it almost impossible for your legs to keep up at a normal pace. Looking back, you were surprised.

Momo sat silently, taking a deep breath. Mina watched in confusion as to where he was taking you and wondered if you’d be back. Kirishima just stared. He seemed calm, like he wasn't worried.

He wasn't.

“Be right back you guys- ow!” You flinched. Bakugou had yanked you by your ear, forcing you in front of him so you couldn’t look anywhere else but ahead.

Leaving the study area, Bakugou took you to an empty part of the library, all the way on the other side. Furthest away from your friends.

He shoved you into one of the shelves and stood in front of you. He towered over you, his wide chest almost caging you in that one spot.

“You wanna embarrass me?” He asked, how voice low and intimidating.

You shook your head. “No… of course not, Katsuki! What did I do?”

His infuriated state didn’t subside. Your innocent question only intensified it.

“You should know better than to ignore me,” he said.

You shook your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about but I’m sorry, okay?”

“You always have your phone on you, I’m not stupid.”

You looked up at him and wrapped your arms around his neck. “My phone is in my bag, we needed to focus for this exam and I didn’t want to get distracted. I didn’t mean to worry you… forgive me?”

He scoffed at your sudden change in demeanor. You looked at him with those eyes. The very same eyes you gave him whenever you wanted him to take care of you in more ways than one.

“What a fucking whore you are.” He spat at you, his hands running down the sides of your waist.

“You know me so well—after I study, you can come over. I’ll make it up to you!” You smile softly, biting your lip.

Bakugou didn’t react, he just looked at you. It was hard to read him. You were never able to tell what he was thinking. That’s what made him stand out to you in the first place.

“Why are you studying with Kirishima?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Well, that’s how it’s always been. I can’t really control if he’s there or not either…”

“Fucking figure it out. I don’t want you around him, if that means you have to kick those sluts to the curb as well, then so be it.”

He was serious. Of course he was, there was never a moment where he wasn’t. But he didn’t actually expect you to let go of Momo and Mina did he? Your best friends since… forever!

You frowned at his words and your arms dropped from his neck. You fiddled with the hem of your sweater and looked away from him.

When you didn’t give an answer, he brought his hand up to your chin, forcing you to look at him. “So what’s it gonna be?”

You were unsure of how to answer. Obviously, you weren’t gonna stop being friends with them. They were there first, it would be unfair.

“Why do you hate him so much?”

The grin on his face became more prominent. Slowly, teasingly, his hand smoothed down your hair before he pressed against the back of your neck. “Because he wants what’s mine.”

He pressed down hard, pushing you down to your knees. Your heart sped up when you realize what’s happening.

You blinked up at him, unsure of what he wanted you to do. You were also too scared. Your hands shook a little at the thought of getting caught. That would be a nightmare.

He tilted his head at you. “You don’t expect me to do everything, do you?”

You looked to both sides of you worryingly. “What if someone comes, and we get in trouble, or worse- suspended. Or even worse! Expelled! Oh my god, I’d be in so much trouble, my parents would kill me and I would be a disgrace and they’d disown me and they’d take away everything I have, everything I love, oh my god I’m gonna have a heart attack,”

Bakugou rolled his eyes at your nervous rambling, unzipping his pants and pulling out his hard cock. He slammed your head back on the shelf which shut you up immediately, his cock in his hand, he tapped your lips with it.

“Are you done? Needa’ use your mouth for something more productive right now.”

You closed your eyes, letting out jagged breaths, and nod submissively. He chuckled then forced his cock between your lips, putting his entire length down your throat.

Your squeals are muffled when he thrusts into your mouth. He explores your tongue and feels the inside of your cheeks. It made him crave you even more.

“Looks at me baby- aah, shit. Look at me when your mouth is full.” He exhaled.

You did as he said without question. One thing about Bakugou, his moans were gorgeous. They never failed to make you feel special.

It always sent shivers down your spine whenever his breaths let you know how much of a good girl you were being. Your nipples became hard, almost being visible through your thick sweater. The pain at the back of your head became a distant feeling.

The only thing you focused on was him. How good he was making you feel, and how you were doing the same to him.

His breath hitched as his thrusts into your throat became more powerful. His balls slapped against your chin and saliva spilled from the corners of your lips.

“Wider,” he panted. “Open wider… deeper…”

You tried your best to widen your lips more to his liking. But you were as wide as you could go, his cock was already forcing your mouth wide open. It was hard to breathe through your mouth and your jaw started to cramp.

He leaned over you, his arms and forehead resting on the bookshelf. You could tell he was focused, his expression was serious.

You felt yourself growing more wet when you began to gag on his cock. The lewd noises were a little loud, the thought of being caught scared you but you didn’t care about that now.

He moaned more, cursing at you under his breath. It was so faint, you couldn’t hear what he was saying. But you were willing to bet it was so hot.

Hs shoved his hand to the back of your head and began forcing you down on his cock. Your eyes shot close when you started choking on him even more.

His grip on your hair tightened and you could tell he was close. You tried to be good for him and just take it. But the roughness was too much to handle.

You whined and whimpered, but he ignored you. The only thing on his mind was chasing his high. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you moaned.

That set him off. His body jerked ever so slightly as he released down your throat. His gasps were soft and mixed with shits and fucks.

When he pulled out of you, a long string of his thick cum mixed in with your saliva connected between his cock and your mouth. He lifted it off his end and placed it in your mouth.

You prepared your throat to swallow before he caught it and flung his hand across your cheek, your head snapping to the side. You whimper and bring your hand to your slapped cheek.

“Don’t swallow until I tell you to.” He hissed.

You nodded and stood slowly, resting your head on his chest. He cleaned himself up a bit, putting his cock back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans.

He led you back to your friends and left without a word. You sat down quietly, grabbing your phone from your bag and rested your head on the table.

13 missed calls and 22 unanswered texts.

“What happened back there? Are you alright?” Mina asked. You looked up at her. She was worried, like usual. You only smile and nod.

“Are you sure? You look exhausted,” Kirishima added. You nod again, your tongue playing with the cum still in your mouth.

You felt your eyes ready to close so you can get some rest until you felt your phone buzz. You lifted it from your lap and unlocked it.

It was from Bakugou.

“Send me a pic of my seed in you. Then I’ll allow you to swallow.”

You cringed. What if your friends saw? What would they think of you if they knew what just happened?

But you couldn’t ignore him. You’d end up in bigger trouble later if you did.

You opened the camera app and turned the camera around. Kirishima was right, you did look exhausted. Your eyes were barely able to stay open, it looked like you had been crying.

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. You snapped a photo of your expression and examined it before sending.

It was clear as day, the cum in your mouth. It was awfully abundant and salty. Having it in your mouth for longer than three minutes would surely make your breath stink like crazy.

You sent the picture to him and awaited a response. It wasn’t long before you got a reply.

“Disgusting whore.”

[kairismess]

❝WRITTEN IN BETWEEN THE LINES...❞

🏐 genre: fluff ~~ ✒️ word count: 1076 💭 summary: kuroo had nothing to do one slow afternoon, until you caught his eye and... he just knew he had to get to know you. but, it seems that he's gotten to know himself better after meeting you: he officially has a thing for bookworms. chatty yet shy ones, in fact. 🍥 author's note: i need more friends like y/n / reader fr... ALSO IF Y'ALL CAUGHT THE REFERENCE ON WHICH GHIBLI MOVIE THIS IS BASED OFF, MARRY ME RN

kuroo could remember the first time he laid eyes on you, he was at the public library looking for advanced chemistry textbooks—or at least, pretending to look for a book that had word vomits of stuff he already knew very well, like the back of his hand. it was a slow afternoon, he had nothing to do since kenma and his family were out of town for the weekend, and he didn't want to stay holed up in his room doing nothing.

he had tried to fit in with everyone else there, running the tips of his slender fingers over the used and fresh spines of the books on the shelves he couldn't bother to read the section names of; to him, they were all the same, he knew most of what these books and journals had to offer. ultimately, he decided to check out the section that was most foreign to him: the fiction books section.

he saw a multitude of names, a flurry of colors that flew by his eyes as he mumbled out the titles off the books he pulled out of the shelves and from their spines. kuroo wasn't even sure what exactly he was looking for here, or what he was even supposed to be doing at the library, he just... needed somewhere to bide his time, somewhere to feel less lonely; and yet, he had felt lonelier and lonelier the more time he spent there.

on the verge of giving up, he accidentally bumped into someone about a foot shorter than him. he hurriedly apologized, seeing that the one he bumped into was... a very cute girl. "oh, i'm... really sorry, here, let me help you," he offered, helping you pick up the books that flew out of your hands when he bumped into you. you silently nodded your thanks, mumbling it out in case it came out unclear to him.

kuroo noticed that the books you were carrying were all... interesting, to say the least. "hmm, never heard of these authors before..." he thought aloud, making your head perk up slowly. you bit your lower lip, trying your hardest not to comment on that. you were an avid reader of those authors, quite passionate about their books and the genres they write, to say the least. "they're great writers..." you mumble out shyly, feeling a cold shiver down your fingers and a warm tingle down your spine; this boy was too cute, in your opinion, you couldn't keep a level head around him, at all.

when your shy little voice entered kuroo's ear, a playful smile appeared on the boy's angular face. "really? well, i don't really know much about fiction, and, uh... you seem like you knew a good amount of it to get a newbie like me started. so, care to recommend me some good writers and genres?" he asked you in a husky voice, making you even more bashful at the fact such a hot boy was asking you for book recommendations, the second thing you were most passionate about in the whole world.

your first favorite thing in the whole world, however... was getting totally engrossed in the stories you were reading. it was a one of a kind experience only you could go through, because of course, everyone had different interpretations of the texts they were reading; but you always had a fondness for discovering the rich backgrounds, symbolisms, and stories the authors wished to reach their audiences. and kuroo was more than willing to listen to you go on and on about the stories you loved, even if a shy cutie like you would take forever to open up.

for the first time in his life, the boy finally didn't feel so alone, so isolated, so out of place setting foot here in the library; he felt at peace, something he yearned for ever since he came here.

"wow, they all sound so intriguing; guess i'll have to borrow those books after you finish them." "i... already did." you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. he blinked his hazelnut eyes twice in disbelief. "you finished... all of them?" he asked in a soft voice, with you nodding in response. kuroo chuckled to himself, leaning closer to you. "you're impressive..." he whispered in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, good shivers, good tingles–you could tell that, somehow, he genuinely was impressed by your dedication for reading.

kuroo stayed with you until the end of the day, and when it was time for you to return all the books you borrowed, he followed up with the librarian, stating, "excuse me, may i borrow all those books afterwards? they're... very interesting, i'd like to read them. all of them," he uttered with a smile, looking at you with a glowing grin on his face.

the librarian eventually agreed, asking kuroo for his name and signing his name after yours on every book you returned, that he was soon going to borrow. "y'know what, i'll bet that i'm going to read every book here that has your name on the back of it. i probably won't be interested in any other book if i don't see your name on it, it wouldn't make me interested."

his words made your heart beat a little faster, your knees shake a bit. you fidgeted with your fingers, looking down at your shoes and the floor, as if the right thing to respond to his words were there, hidden in between the lines of where the tiles met. "but... why would you...? why me?" "because, why not? you're amazing, and i want to be a part of your world; your literary world, if you will," kuroo beamed, grinning after confessing that.

it had only been a day, but, you felt like today was a gem in the days that felt like dull, bland charcoal. today, you met a wonderful boy–a boy whose life you didn't realize you'd changed, by simply letting him in, and showing him the beauty of your mind and heart when it came to your interest in the art of words and imagination.

you'd better get used to seeing that rooster headed, teasing boy every weekend now; he has something to brag to kenma about when he'd get back from his family outing.

but the one thing to ruin kuroo's evening is this realization he had over dinner: he forgot to ask you for your number.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Xavier had been acting cagey for weeks, a fact you hadn't had the heart to address since Maddie's disappearance. but with his dubious return to school and how he loitered in the periphery of Nicole and Simon's orbit, you thought it was about time to get answers. too bad one pale, cow-eyed jock had other plans.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.5

You felt foolish, dressed like a Parisian cat burglar, but you hadn't exactly spent your night strategizing how to avoid Wally Clark come morning. Instead, you'd pored over several small, ratty books that outlined possible explanations for human-ghost attraction.

Not the kind of attraction that makes your heart beat love songs, but the kind that draws elements together. The scientific kind that had nothing to do with what the shape of Wally's mouth might feel like against various pulse points.

Thankfully, the universe seemed to be on your side. You'd managed to slip from one class to the next unnoticed, only seeing the shy boy with the glasses and the spacey girl who roosted atop the library return bins. No towering athlete with big hands and bedroom eyes.

Jesus, girl, get a grip, you chided yourself in a voice that eerily resembled Mathilda's.

Mathilda, who you'd managed to waylay that morning by dragging her into the girls' bathroom and holding her hostage until Xavier had texted you the OK. Mathilda who'd spent the time before and after History barking insults at people who'd thought it'd been a good idea to share their opinions of Xavier aloud.

What she lacked in height, she sure as hell made up for in loyalty and intimidation. Qualities you admired and wished you could emulate. If Mathilda had chaotic, ancestral ghost powers, she wouldn't let herself be pushed around by the idea of a ghost getting the better of her.

No. She'd probably browbeat the ghost into submission and get on with her day. No swarms or storms or ectoplasmic squalls; no mother eventually stepping in to fix her daughter's mistake, cursing I told you over and over again because, yeah, she had. Sadly, Mathilda didn't share your abilities and couldn't chase Wally away on your behalf.

Frustrated, you shoved the hood of your uncle's sweater over your head and yanked the drawstrings, encasing yourself in a void of soft fabric.

It sucked. You didn't want Wally chased away. You just wanted him never to figure out that you could see, hear, or wholly and completely interact with him...Which would result in him eventually giving up or losing interest and never seeking you out again, as he'd done in your sophomore year. And you wanted that even less.

When had 'don't tell anyone' become so complicated?

Naturally, you didn't want to get your mother involved. Were wholeheartedly determined to weather the storm alone. Had been doing a decent enough job of it until yesterday, despite some minor missteps here and there. But if Wally remained steadfast in his promise ("I'm not going anywhere until you admit it"), she'd find out—she always found out—and you'd never see him again. Poof. Gone. Disintegrated into the ether; his beautiful, summer-sun soul vanished from the earth as if he'd never existed.

You couldn't let that happen.

"How's the undercover operation?" Xavier's voice penetrated the dead air from somewhere above you.

You groaned in response, loosened your hood and pushed it off to stare up at him, likely making a pitiful picture with staticky hair and a pout.

He prompted you with a twitch of an eyebrow, you rolled your eyes; he grinned, you untucked your knees from your chest and opened yourself up to invite Xavier to sit with you on the library floor.

"Who are you hiding from, again?" He asked, making himself comfortable across from you between the shelves of autobiographies—the section furthest from the door.

You teased him with a delicate smile, "No questions, remember?"

"Normally, I'd respect the hell out of that, but I feel like I should be concerned." He regarded you carefully, eyes flitting between yours as if he could summon your secrets through them. "I don't have to kick the shit out of anyone, do I?"

"I love you, Zav, and, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the thought," You really did, "but, trust me, it's not that deep."

"Okay...and how many lunches do you plan to have in the back of the library?"

"As many as I need to." You replied vaguely. He bit his lip to stop a smile and nodded. "I'm good, Xavier, I swear. I just need some space right now." You weren't going to fabricate a lie for him. Anyone else, yeah, water off a duck's back, but Xavier? It toed a line you weren't comfortable crossing.

While not entirely placated by your statement, Xavier respected it, getting back to his feet and shouldering his backpack. As he was about to round the bookshelf and leave you to your business, he paused.

"You'd tell me, right?" He peered at you over his shoulder, "If things were bad...you'd tell me?"

Without hesitation, "Yes," you assured.

His expression relaxed, "Thanks."

Xavier didn't leave the library altogether, simply walked away to give you the space you'd said you needed.

For awhile, you occupied yourself with homework—notebook in your lap and Frankenstein open beside you—taking advantage of your free period to catch up on what you'd put aside last night. It would've been a good use of your time, except...your uncooperative brain kept ambling back to Wally. To his puppysoft brown eyes; his cocky, boyish grin. Then to how he'd glided his fingers up your spine and had made your blood surge.

Shit. God. No. Stop that!

Growling inwardly, you shifted to your knees, notebook sliding to the floor, and grabbed your backpack. Dragged it toward you so you could pack up and find another place to sequester yourself. A change of scenery might help prevent your brain from tap dancing into very bad no good territory.

The pen you'd been using had rolled away when you'd repositioned yourself, now sat at the end of the aisle. Standing, you went to retrieve it when you heard someone who sounded a lot like Nicole mutter an apology. Peeking around the bookshelf, you caught sight of her as she hurried out of the library, phone in hand.

What's that about?

Before you could apprehend it, you saw movement in the corner of your eye. Xavier reshelved the book he'd been flipping through and made a hasty exit, clearly intending to follow Nicole.

Well. Now you had to know. You swooped over to your backpack, double-checked that you hadn't forgetten anything, and strolled as fast as you dared after them.

Completely unaware that, beyond the school walls, the specter you'd cosplayed Sid Vicious to avoid was gleefully running amok.

💀___________________________

PART FOUR - PART SIX

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[mystcldydrms]

LIBRARY ADORATION - FRED WEASLEY

summary: a book isn't the only thing fred weasley wants you to have

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: fluff

notes: you know how much I love books and libraries. I just had to write this one. also please be aware that I haven't written anything for probably 6 months. I'm slowly getting back into it.

You stood in front of one of the many bookshelves of the Hogwarts library, your eyes scanning the spines of the books. The words already started to blur; however, you shook your head lightly, focusing on the titles as best as possible.

You had abandoned your essay, which was due in two days, on a table, alongside two books that had helped you tremendously while writing it, however, you still needed one more that could help you while writing your essay.

For a few more minutes, you kept looking everywhere. You knew exactly which book you needed. One of your fellow students had told you about it. Unfortunately for you, she had forgotten in which section she had found it, hence, here you were, looking at every shelf that was dedicated to the history of magic.

“Where are you?” you whispered to yourself, rounding yet another corner to go and look at yet another shelf. This time, you weren’t alone.

In the corner sat Fred and George Weasley with their friend Lee Jordan. They had noticed your presence right away. You saw them quickly shielding their notes from you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes slightly. You didn’t feel the need to know what they were whispering about. You didn’t care about their schemes or plans. Well, you did, but not at that moment. You just wanted to grab your book and finish your essay.

Your eyes looked at yet another couple of books until they finally landed on the one you needed the most. You took one more step towards the shelf and tried to grab the book, which, unfortunately, was almost at the top. You let out an almost inaudible sigh. Although you tried to stand on your tiptoes, you couldn’t reach the book with your hand.

You weren’t small. You had an average height for a girl your age. But why couldn’t you reach the book? Of course, you could use your wand and get it, however, your wand was in the pocket of your robe. And that robe was almost all the way across the library.

“Do you need a hand?”

You jumped lightly, and although that voice had talked to you in a whisper, you were surprised to hear it. You turned your head to the right and noticed Fred Weasley standing right next to you, a teasing smile on his lips.

The three Gryffindors must have watched you while you struggled to grab the book. You immediately felt the embarrassment and the heat that was starting to make its way up to your face, turning your cheeks a light shade of red. Another sigh escaped your lips as you nodded your head.

“Which one is it?”

“The one with the brown spine. Magic Mysteries.”

Fred nodded his head before he easily extended his arm and grabbed the book you needed. A proud smile graced his lips as he handed it to you, your fingertips lightly brushing his.

“Thank you.”, you whispered as you pressed the book against your chest, looking up into his eyes.

“No problem. Why did you need this one?”

You caught a glimpse of Lee and George, who slightly snickered behind Fred until they noticed you looking at them. They quickly looked at their notes again, pretending to write something down. You giggled lightly, shaking your head before you looked into Fred’s eyes again, a smile already on his lips. Did it even leave? You didn’t know, but you liked it that way.

“I have an essay due in two days. I’m almost done, but I still need a few more details. What about you? What are you doing?” you asked curiously.

Yes, you didn’t really care about it when you first saw them scheming something in their little corner, but you didn’t want your conversation with Fred to end so soon. You liked talking to him, always have. It was easy. You couldn’t call yourself friends, however, you were in the same house, and you greeted each other whenever you saw one another in the castle. And sometimes, you even had a conversation.

Did you have a crush on the ginger-haired boy? Yes. But who wouldn’t? Every girl in their right mind could see that the twins were two good-looking boys.

“Oh, nothing important. Just a few notes for a future project.”, Fred explained, snapping you out of your little daydream about him.

“Sounds fun?” you said, grinning up at him.

“Well, I better get back and finish my essay. Have fun. I’ll see you around.”

Before you rounded the corner, you stole one last glance at Fred, who hadn’t turned around yet, but rather stayed where he was, locking eyes with you. You could swear you saw a shimmer of red on his cheeks, however, after looking at books for such a long time, you weren’t so sure of your focus anymore.

After another hour of reading and writing, you had finally finished your essay, but before you could get up and pack everything away, you noticed someone sitting down next to you.

“Fancy seeing you here.”, you heard a male voice say.

A bright smile immediately graced your lips as you turned your head and, once again, looked into the eyes of Fred Weasley.

“I know. I swear I saw you an hour ago just behind that bookshelf over there.”, you said, both of you laughing lightly.

“Have you finished your essay yet?”

“Yes, finally. I can’t write another one for at least a week now. I can’t even focus on words anymore.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh again. You had that effect on him. You were funny, you knew how to hold a conversation, and you laughed about all his jokes, which was one of the reasons he had started to fall for you. Of course, you were also a beautiful girl.

You saw one another in the castle every day and talked every other day, but for him, it wasn’t enough. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. He needed to talk to you every day, laugh with you, hold you … and finally find out how your lips felt on his.

“Can I ask you something?” Fred blurted out, a bit louder than intended. Madame Pince was instantly by your side, staring angrily down at the ginger-haired boy who only shrugged and mumbled ‘sorry’.

You giggled quietly, watching how Madame Pince walked away before your eyes landed on Fred again, who was already watching you, a dreamy smile gracing his lips.

“Go ahead. What do you want to ask me?”

To say that you were curious was an understatement. You were nervous. What could Fred Weasley ask you? Did he need help with an essay? Did he need help with his future project?

“Would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday? Just the two of us, I mean.”

Your eyes widened; your mouth lightly opened as you tried to process his words. Fred just asked you out on a date. And he wanted it to happen this Saturday.

‘Wow’, you thought to yourself, as you nervously started to play with your fingers.

You had no idea how long you were quiet, but you could see the way Fred started to fidget. He kept staring at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yes.”, you whispered. “Yes, of course. I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you.”

The young man that sat next to you couldn’t help but clap his hands together before he stood up and triumphantly put his hands in the air.

“Fred. Stop.”, you said, giggling, taking his robe in your hands, trying to pull him down onto his chair again, but he didn’t bother. He just stood there and looked at you with the brightest smile you had ever seen on his face.

“You just made my day so much better.”, he confessed, leaning down until he was face to face with you, your eyes on one level.

You studied his face, first his eyes, then his lips, the freckles on his cheeks, until your eyes landed on his again. You knew that you were blushing again, but you didn’t care. You were beyond happy.

“I have to get going now. George and Lee are probably already wondering where I am, but I will see you later in the common room. We could discuss our date.”

The only thing you could do was nod your head while Fred sent you a small wink before he turned around and made his way out of the library.

Your heart was pounding like crazy in your chest. You felt the butterflies flying around in your stomach. You and Fred. You and Fred on a date.

Too stunned to do anything else, you just sat in the library for a few more minutes until you regained your strength and started packing up your things, already looking forward to seeing Fred in the common room.

[sparklefangs]

my library is saving my mental health

I was diagnosed with epilepsy in January and am no longer allowed to drive.

I live in the ass-end of nowhere - my town has about 1600 people in it according to the last census - and all the third spaces in a 45 minute drive radius, every single one, have been shut down by landlords who kept driving the rent up. (Seriously - a gaming cafe that had been there for 11 years and was always packed, a local institution, just closed a couple months ago because they couldn't afford the rent anymore.) I also can't walk anywhere at all because the roads have no shoulders, and locals in unnecessarily massive pickup trucks drive as though coming 3 inches from hitting pedestrians is their favorite sport.

Over the last 7 months I've felt my soul slowly leaking out like a nosebleed. There's so much I can't do. I can't go anywhere. I don't have friends or family to visit. Have you ever had a mental breakdown because you physically couldn't go buy a half gallon of milk? It's not great. I mean, obviously, a fair number of people experience that, but if you haven't, and suddenly that's your reality, it's pretty jarring. Even if you're an introvert, you still have the option available to you. Now imagine you don't anymore, even if you feel like you could. You just legally and by circumstance of location cannot leave the house unless someone takes you.

So, once a week, my partner drives me the half hour to our tiny little library and drops me off. It's not in walking distance of anything, so I sit there for six hours reading. Just chilling out in my favorite chair with a book. It's great.

I'm not the only person who does this. No matter what day of the week I'm there, I see the same people sitting in their favorite spots, doing the same thing I am. It's mostly older people, but also younger folks with various visible disabilities, and I assume others, like me, who probably have less visible disabilities and nowhere else to go.

This is an extremely conservative area but the staff managed to find a corner of the YA section for a tiny little pride-themed book display. I thought it was just for June, but it's mid-July and the display is still there.

I'm so grateful for this library. Even if you buy a lot of books or mainly use audible or kindle, go visit yours from time to time. Check out books, even if you don't get around to reading them. Sign up for events they might have - ours does a monthly "blind book date" thing where you tell them what you like to read, they pick out a couple books for you, and give you a few little themed extras in your box. Show that they're important so they can keep getting funding.

They need to stick around and you might not even realize how important they are until, like me, you have nowhere else to go. I've always valued libraries but now I find myself one of the people who actually really, truly needs it in a very personal and immediate way.

PS - And tell the library staff how much you appreciate what they do. They get yelled at all the time by jackasses who probably don't even use the library but are mad because they heard there are rainbows on some of the books.

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Four - Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING!

This chapter contains descriptions of physical, emotional, AND mental abuse by a parent to their child. It contains descriptions of the aftermath of the physical abuse. It also contains scenarios where reader is verbally abused by a parent. If this is triggering for you, there will be a TLDR at the very end of the chapter. Please scroll down to the end of this page if you want to know what this chapter is about, but not read it in its entirety.

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, not proofread, anxiety and panic, crying, alcohol consumption, a mention of throwing up (but not graphically or anything), allusions to a smutty situation, mentions of female anatomy, making out (??), angst, hurt/comfort, physical/mental/emotional/verbal abuse - read above.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :) 

♡ About 12.3k words, lmao. Oops

♡ A/N: For one, this chapter was so emotional and personal for me to write. I'm very happy with the way that it turned out, as it took me about two days to complete it! It's quite a long chapter, so please take breaks if you need to. Thanks again for being so nice to me, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, this chapter is not in chronological order of events. I based the sections on what lyrics are put and what I thought would go well with them.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU DECIDE TO READ OR NOT READ!

If you or anyone you know is a victim of abuse, please do not hesitate to call the provided numbers after clicking any of the links at the bottom of this page.

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based on the song lover of the light by mumford and sons 

“Stretch out my life and pick the seams out

Take what you like, but close my ears and eyes

Watch me stumble over and over” 

Mick knew from a very early age that having solid friendships was something very important to have in order to build a strong foundation in life. He saw that modeled so dearly by his father, and all the friendships he had made over the years. His older sister had great friends who treated Mick with nothing but respect… And some pranks. And his mother (besides the envied relationship she had with his father, her husband) always stressed that having good, pure of heart friendships would take you further in life than anything else. 

And for the first time in his life, Mick felt that warmth and joy with you just weeks after you had moved to Germany. Your friendship bloomed quickly and tightly, as you two seemingly became inseparable. It was a rare sight seeing one of you, without the other at school. Everyone could notice the shift in momentum when you were absent and Mick was left confused as to what to get to lunch that day. And vice versa, when he’d be gone - you’d be often found wandering around the school’s library not actually picking out a book, at every recess you had. 

But Mick as bad at math as he was, was more acutely aware of any signs of emotional or mental change in you than one would believe. He could see it in your expressions and body language if you were going through something at home. Your nose would scrunch more and you’d have more difficulty doing simply math problems than usual. You made it a point to never chew on your pencils or straws, but if you were particularly stressed… You could easily bite through the stick of lead or plastic. Mick knew this and he recognized it more as your friendship grew. Most of the time, you’d reassure him with the exact smile he fell in love with and most of the time he’d take your word for it. 

Except the day he didn’t and refused to let up when he could tell it was more than just stress. 

“It’s fine, Mickey, just drop it.” 

“I will not drop this, Smidge!” Mick was now chasing his best friend down as she stormed out of his room. 

“Leave it alone, ugh!” You spat back, as you opened the back door and tried to create some space between you and the blond boy. You took your hair out its ponytail holder in frustration, trying to make that antsy feeling going away by running furious hands through your hair. 

“Smidge, I swear, if you do not tell me what is going on right now-“ 

“Oh, you swear?” You turned on your heel in anger and gestured towards whatever imaginary thing you were gesturing as you huffed. “You swear you’re going to do something about it? Huh? Fuck off, Mick!” 

Mick let out a scoff, which kind of turned into a laugh? He was laughing now? You rolled your eyes and turn your back on him once again. You had plopped yourself on the lawn, looking out at the vast city line in front of you. You began to pick at the grass below you, your hands needing something to fiddled with to try and center your anxiety. You took a deep breath. Mick could see from behind the way your shoulders rose, and shakily fell. He knew you were trying not to cry. And of course he never wanted to see you cry, but part of him wishes you did. He knew it would probably make you feel better… But to be honest, the last time he could remember you crying in front of him was when you fell off your scooter just a few meters from the very house you were constantly visiting. Mick tried to shake that happy thought out of his mind, because he didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Smidge… Please, I know there is something bothering you, and I promise I will not tell anybody else… But you know I hate it when I cannot help you.” Mick spoke softly as he took a seat beside you. You avoided eye contact. 

Mick was trying to decipher what your facial expression was like, but your hair had fallen and was covering the view. He took a deep breath and reached his hand over to yours. Grabbing your fingers delicately, while also trying to get you to stop pulling out the grass, he gave your hand a squeeze. You squeezed back gently and still without making eye contact, you scooted closer to him. You leaned against him, your head on his shoulder. He adjusted as needed, his right arm placed behind him so he could support the both of you.

You always found comfort and safety tucked underneath him. And you knew that you two would be sharing a blanket and watching a movie in no time. But that fleeting thought only gave you a second of relief. The two of you remained in silence as you listened to the rustling of the wind as it danced with the leaves and branches. You could hear birds chirping in the distance and you could practically cut the calmness of the world around you with a knife. This is where you wanted to be. You never wanted to leave this spot, but life was never that kind and soon enough, reality pulled you back in as Mick’s humming brought you and your daydreaming to a halt. 

“I didn’t do well on my last math exam.” You stated. 

Mick stopped humming. He was trying to figure out why that of all things had you so upset. He didn’t comment though

“I got a B- or something…” You sighed. “I studied and I studied… But I only got a B-… It was humiliating.” 

“I am sorry about that, Smidge. I know how much you value getting good grades.” Mick finally responded. His tone was… trying to be supportive, but he really didn’t understand why getting a B- in math was so devastating. He would LOVE to get that grade on a math exam, even after studying. 

“I don’t care about getting good grades, Mickey.” You retorted quicker than you probably should have. You stiffened your posture and moved away from him. Your heart rate was picking up and you were getting nervous. Mick noticed. He noticed everything when it came to you. 

The blue eyed boy wasn’t sure what came over him next, but as you sat now sort of in front of him, he guided his hand up to your face and moved your hair out of the way. He tucked in what he could behind your ear, a few pieces falling still. You looked up at him and he could finally see… and feel just how distraught you were. 

“He cares that I get good grades.” You finally croaked out. 

Mick’s facial expressions now were the confusing ones. At first he was relieved you told him. The next second he was confused as to why that was the reason you were upset…. And the third was panic. And he’d never admit this to you, but if it were because of some guy at your school making fun of you for something like that… Oh he’d have some words with that person. 

“Oh… Ehmmm… Oh…” Mick pressed his lips together in confusion. You could see the gears moving in his head as he tried to figure out who you were talking about. 

“My dad.” You finally cut him off. He looked as though he was about to give himself an aneurysm if you didn't stop him from thinking so hard. 

“Oh.” 

Now, Mick has always had his suspicions about your home life. For instance, when you didn’t come to class one day when you two were younger, the teacher had made a comment about if he knew about your home life or not. He then went to his father and asked advice. He let it go for the time being, because you really weren’t absent a lot, but he made sure make a mental note for later. Seemingly, you had a pretty decent home life. You got along with your older brother, and you always said your mom was one of your best friends. Albeit, you never spoke much about your father. He was in the military and pretty high up in command. His job was very ‘hush hush,’ so even you, his daughter had limited if information on what he actually did as well. You always spoke about him with respect though, and never making it seem like there was anything going on at your house. 

But Mick… Mick was sorely mistaken. You were wearing a zip up jacket which wasn’t uncommon, but Mick did think it was a bit warm for it. He never would dream on commenting on what you were wearing though. Slowly, you peeled the jacket off of you and as slowly as you did, was as slowly as he could process what was in front of him.  

Your arms were littered with bruises. Not just bruises, fingerprints. Someone was pressing into your skin, your precious beautiful skin so hard that they left their fingerprints. Mick blinked quickly, trying to see if his brain was playing tricks on him. Soon enough, you took off your shirt as well. Mick didn’t even care to notice you in your sports bra. But there were even more bruises on your skin that you had been covering for some time now. Based on the yellowing on the biggest one near your ribs on your left side… You had gotten hurt a while ago. Yet, there were bruises on your back and your chest that indicated they were fairly new. Mick felt like his heart was going to explode and his brain was going to go with it. 

You allowed him to look at you - to process the information presented. You thought that showing instead of telling would be more effective, anyway. Moments later, you put your shirt back on and sighed. And if you weren’t sat in the middle of Mick’s backyard, you’d shed your leggings too to show the damage there.

Mick shakily breathed out your name, which he never called you. He always called you Smidge or Liebling - never your real name. He himself felt tears brimming in his eyes as he watched you put your shirt back on and throw your hair back into a ponytail. It was as though the visual he was getting was completely different from the mental images he was receiving. He couldn’t catch up and he just did not know what to do. 

“How long?”

Mick finally gained composure and demanded to know more. His tone was serious, short. He was never this… Cold with you? You could tell he was absolutely fuming too. The tips of his ears were turning red as his jaw pulsated with every clench of it. Now he was the one unconsciously grabbing clumps of grass and ripping them to shreds. 

“What???” You tilted your head. 

“How. Long. Has. He. Been. Beating. You.” The angrier he got the more German he got too. His accent was quite thick as he stood to his feet and began pacing. It was never a good sign when he would pace. His fists were wound up in tight balls, knuckles pale white with tension, as he thought of every scenario in which he could kill your father, and get away with it. 

“Mickey-“ 

“No, don’t you dare ‘Mickey’ me right now! How long has he been beating you up?” Mick cut you off and rushed towards you. He was just inches from you now. 

You knew he was angry, irate even. And you knew he’d never hurt you, and that this anger was not directed towards you. But on instinct, you backed up as your breath caught in your chest. 

Mick shook his head, running his hands through his hair. He knew his parents would be home soon and he knew if they saw how angry he was… They’d have questions, and he could never lie to them… Which means they’d figure out exactly what was going on with you… Which meant… Well, war. 

You took another deep breath and bravely closed the gap between you. You had never felt anything like you had before Mick. You had never had a boyfriend, nor any friends that even came close to the security you felt with him. You reached up and caressed his cheek, his face leaning into the palm of your hand. You almost never initiated physical touch besides leaning on him. But he always welcomed it no matter how limited it would be. He closed his eyes and grabbed your hand in his, the both of them interlocking as he nuzzled into your hand farther. 

“I…I can’t remember how long, Mickey. I can’t remember how long it’s been since it started.” 

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“I have done wrong, you build your tower

But call me home and I will build a throne

And wash my eyes out never again”

There were rare occasions that you and Mick were not together, but he was handsome and simply because of his surname, was like catnip to ladies. While you were still in Formula Three, Mick had graduated to Formula Two. Even so, having his last name meant he was probably getting more invites than the average person. 

But come on, no one is average in Monaco. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” 

“Yeah, you too!” 

Women’s bathrooms at parties and clubs were something else. There was no caste system in place and if you needed to cry about your ex or needed to puke your brains out before Gasolina came on (but who wouldn’t), a women’s bathroom at a club felt like the safest place to do those things. 

“You’re with Shoemaker, right?” The very clearly drunk girl beside you yells in your face. Sure, you were also drunk… But why was she yelling? 

“Schumacher.” You corrected. 

“Yeah!! He has blond hair and is super hot? Yeah, dude, my friend was hardcore hitting on him and getting the vibe from him…” The girl beside you held in a burp… Or maybe she just was just not trying to puke in her mouth. 

“Sure, he’s handsome.” You finally answered. You just wanted to get some water. 

“Oooookay, well I th-think my girl is going to try and make a move on your friend,” The drunk girl slurred as she was trying to get the cap of her lipgloss separated from the tube of the glossy pink liquid. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything between you guys!” 

The girl began applying her lipstick as you tried to process what she was saying through your own drunken state. Finally, it all came together and you turned your head to face her. 

“You hunted me down just to ask me if your friend has permission to sleep with Mick?” You tried to sound as sober as possible. 

The girl shrugged her shoulders and shot a quick smile to you as she gathered her purse. 

“W-Well, you guys are always together! She just wanted to make s-sure you weren’t a thing.” You nodded as she finished speaking and primping her hair. 

And maybe it was because you were drunk, the emotion of jealousy arose in you. Luckily, your cheeks were already flush from the shots of tequila you consumed earlier. You were sure Mick always had girls trying to hit on him and maybe they were successful in doing so. Mick was an adult and as long as they were consenting adults too, what’s the harm in him having a little bit of fun? 

What’s the harm, right? 

“No, Mickey and I are not a thing. So, uh, tell your friend to not worry about - not to worry about me.” You finally responded as you blotted a cold and wet paper towel on your face. The girl grinned and blew a kiss in your general direction, soon then stumbling out of the bathroom just as clumsily as she had stumbled into it.

You took a few deep breaths and looked down at your phone screen. The letters were moving on the screen as you tried to focus your eyes long enough to reach the Uber app. You didn’t know why you wanted to leave all of a sudden. Consciously, you knew Mick had his pick of women and probably picked from them when he wanted to. Yet again the giant green monster clung to your chest as if it was part of your beating heart. Sloppily typing your location into Uber, you managed to click ‘Order.’ 

Your driver is 13 minutes away. 

You took one last look at the bathroom sink making sure that at the very least you had your wallet and hotel key card. Nodding to yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back into the sea of sweaty bodies and blasting music. The exit sign was aglow about 50 yards in front of you??? No - that can’t be right. 50 feet? 50… Dancing bodies? And as you did your best to toddle over to the exit, you finally managed to get out the door. 

The crisp, cool air was a refreshing touch after being in a crowded club for hours now. Frankly, you didn’t like going out to clubs, but Mick did and any chance to score some free tequila was always a win in your book. You leaned up against the wall beside the club closing your eyes. 

“Smidge? Was machst du hier draußen (What are you doing out here)?” A familiar voice, a very hoarse one at that brought you out of your drunken mini nap as you pried your dry eyes open to see who that was.

“Sie sollten nicht alleine draußen sein (You should not be outside by yourself).” 

Mick’s usual perfectly coiffed hair was messily atop his head as his porcelain cheeks were red with the heat of the club and many shots of jäger he did. He wore a simple dark blue button up and black jeans. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows lazily matching the state of his hair. You smiled at the boy in front of you and eyed his hair up and down. 

“I’m going home, Mickey. Well, not home-home.” You shrugged shoving your phone in his face. He backed up and his eyes squinted at the screen. 

Your driver is 8 minutes away. 

“Alright, Smidge.” Mick took a lean against the same wall just next to you. 

Your shoulders were barely touching when you could feel his fingers try and find yours as your arms were at your side. Your heartbeat began to pick up as your hand finally found his. And it wasn’t a full hand hold… Yet this felt much more intimate. Barely interlocking fingertips, he hummed softly to himself as he looked up at the night sky. 

“How did you even know I was out here? I thought you were getting hot and heavy with some chick somewhere.” 

Mick let out a breathy laugh. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled widely. 

“Hot and heavy?” He repeated in jest. 

“Shut up.” 

You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to look at him. You knew he was staring at you with those eyes and you also know you turn into a puddle when you look into them… especially when drunk. 

“But no, I was not getting hot and heavy with that chick somewhere.” Mick finally spoke. “I’ll always find you, Smidge. Ihre Sicherheit steht für mich an erster Stelle (Your safety is my number one concern).” 

“Ich bin erwachsen (I’m an adult).” You groaned looking at your phone screen. 

Your driver is 4 minutes away. 

The two of you stood again in silence as you still waited for your driver to arrive. Mick hummed to himself and suddenly, was kneeling on the ground. You looked down in utter confusion as he began to undo the clasps to your heels. He didn’t say a word as he managed to effortlessly undo both shoes of yours… And you were honestly impressed because you thought he was way more drunk than you. Taking something out of his own crossbody bag, he opened a tiny case and handed you some flats. You had told him a while ago about these ballet flats you saw on the internet that easily folded up for ease of access. You didn’t think he was paying attention, but there he was as he slipped the flats onto your feet and grabbed your heels. 

You were frozen in stance. He was acting so casually as he looked down the road for the driver. Your heels were in his one hand while the other reached behind him for your hand. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his and walked over to the curb. 

“I think I see our driver.” 

“Our driver?” 

Your best friend and you exchanged equally as confused expressions. Mick’s expression was that of offense and disbelief, while yours was of perplexity and unsureness. 

“Well, yeah. I am not about to send you back to your hotel room in the middle of the night in Monaco - alone.” Mick stressed and stretched out the last word as if it were supposed to be something completely obvious to you. 

“Again though, I am an adult, Schumacher.” 

Soon enough, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb and rolled down his driver’s window. The driver asked you for your name and as you recited your first and last name for some odd fucking reason, Mick opened the back door for you and ushered for you to get into the car. You eyed him carefully trying to decode his actions. Sliding into the car and putting your seat belt on, you were surprised when Mick also slid into the car. 

“Can I change the address of the Uber? I will pay whatever you need to do so.” Mick chirped as he leaned towards the driver. 

Your best friend and the driver exchanged the how’s of it all, and finally the car began to drive away from the still busy club scene. 

“Why did you give him your address?” You whispered. You could feel the alcohol still inside yourself, swimming in your veins. 

“Alone. Hotel room. Alone. Monaco. Alone-“

It was as though Mick was reciting the Winter Soldier’s trigger words. He spewed off the reasons and tried to also go through the whole ‘Concern for your safety,’ lecture one more time, this time with more emphasis. And truly, you didn’t know what came over you - or maybe you did and maybe those tequila shots were in fact a terrible idea - but as he was ranting and raving about the streets of Monaco and how (and this was very true) unsafe it was to be a woman alone at this time of night, you leaned over and cut him off with a press of your lips to his. 

Mick’s hands found your waist as you had your hands on either side of his face. You had to remind yourself that you were still in the back of the Uber. Pulling away, you could see how glassy his eyes were, yet still filled with the same affectionate expression he always had towards you. Cuddling and tucking yourself into his side, you could hear him humming as he draped a hand over you. 

“Thanks, and sorry for the confusion earlier.” Mick gave the driver an extra cash tip before the two of you made it to his condominium. 

Mick drunkenly fumbled with his keys with one hand while holding yours with his other hand. You tried to pry your hand from his so he could have an easier way of unlocking his front door, but the grip he had on you said otherwise. 

“If I can have a super license… I can open the door with one hand, Smidge.” The front door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity.  

The two of you shed your shoes and as he plopped your heels down on the counter and washed his hands, you managed to find some food in his fridge. 

“I’m drunker than I thought…” Mick mumbled as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you. You ever so slight leaned your head back so your the sides of your heads were touching. 

And as you both looked at the inside of the fridge, not wanting to move, you could only turn around to face the boy. You put your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his forehead. The intimate act was not lost on Mick, either. And this time his hum sounded differently than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you tightly to his body. 

Finally as you two peeled apart, you grabbed a few beers and some leftover pizza, turning on your heel. Mick followed you as you navigated your way into his room. Well, he’d also just follow you anywhere, but as you entered his room, he could swear he was dreaming. 

Mick helped you put the food and beer down and told you he was just going to changed into sweats as he disappeared into his bathroom. At the same time, you rummaged through his closet and drawers to find clothes. You dawned one of his old Ferrari shirts and some shorts you found that actually fit you.

After you both had changed, you got comfortable and sat on his bed criss cross waiting for him to come back. Mick was in his bathroom, his sweats already on, but his mind racing a mile a minute. 

You both were way too drunk (even if it didn’t seem like it) to take things anything further, but for some reason tonight the ambience was much different - more intimate. It was the feeling he so desperately longed for you to feel as well. He’d never force you or guilt you into feeling the way he always has for you, but he was just happy to be able to be there for you when you reciprocated. 

Even if it was just for one night… Mick kept repeating in his head as he splashed his face with water. 

Mick exited the bathroom and smiled softly at the sight in front of him. You were absolutely glowing and the fact that you were wearing his clothes was even better. This was the life he wanted with you, and he knew he’d wait an eternity to earn it. And in any lifetime, he would want to find you, he knew that much to be true. 

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“Skin too tight and eyes like marbles

You spin me high, so watch me as I glide

Before I tumble homeward, homeward”

Mick was absolutely dominating Formula Two, just as he did in Formula Three. So there you were visiting Mick the day before free practice was going to start in Silverstone. 

He knew that your mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and that your time was vastly being taken up by transporting her from place to place when you could. Mick would always offer to help, but you didn’t want him to get involved in your family drama… Well, with your father. 

“I think you’re going to do great things tomorrow, Mickey.” You smiled widely as you went to reach for something in the cupboard above you. The two of you were at his hotel room as he relaxed after a hard day of training and sim driving. 

“You always say that, Smidge.” Mick peered over his shoulder to you, his eyes half focused on the video game’s loading screen in front of him. 

The sound of dishes breaking quickly pulled him out of his half trance. He was on his feet and over to you as fast as Edward stopped that van crashing into Bella. 

Your hand had been cut by the falling and breaking glass, the blood slowly beginning to pour out of the wound. You were praying you didn’t have to get stitches. 

Mick responded hastily, grabbing the nearest dish towel and wrapping your hand with it. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. He repeated in the back of his head as he pressed gently to your palm. 

“I could have helped you, Smidge.” Mick broke the silence as you winced at his touch. As he helped you to your feet, he guided your hand under the now streaming water. 

“I’m a big girl, Mickey.” You retorted, clearly aware that you were contradicting yourself as he washed your wound of any passing infections. 

He just hummed in response as he shut the water off and examined your hand. He repeated that he thinks you didn’t need stitches, and that he would return shortly the first aid kit. True to his word, he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking too, the way his touch was almost nonexistent because it was so soft as he bandaged your hand. Oddly though, you cowered in pain as he moved your arm to the side. It was an unseemly way of moving it, too as Mick tried to see if the bandage was tight enough on the side of the hand he couldn’t see. 

Mick cocked his head to the side and stared at you with one look: That better not have been because of what I fucking think it is. 

You hesitated being the one to break the looming silence between you two now, but you thought if you didn’t he’d say it aloud - and to have someone else say it aloud was sometimes worse than you admitting it. 

“It’s not what you-“ 

“Show me.” Mick cut you off, his deepening blue eyes piercing the air with every hyperbole you could think of. 

“Mickey, it’s really nothing. You just moved my arm a weird way, I’m okay.” 

“Show. Me. Now.” 

And as you always do what you’re told, you lifted your shirt slightly and before you could even take it off, Mick was stood on his feet and typing something into his phone. He didn’t utter a word to you for the next several minutes, he was just typing furiously on his phone. You had put your shirt back on and remained silent and sat on the hotel’s couch. You knew there was no stopping whatever he was doing. 

“I have to finalize it, but you are to have security now. One guard, or eighteen, I do not care - You are no longer going to be alone.” 

“Mick, I can’t have a security guard. I don’t even want one.” You took a deep breath and exhaled. 

“I do not fucking care! I don’t! I really do not fucking care.” Mick had slammed his phone down on the counter making you flinch. 

Fuck. And as he watched you carefully, you began to sob for only the third time in your entire friendship. Mick cursed himself in all the languages he knew as he approached you with trepidation. Sitting beside you, he began to mutter apology after apology, also in every language he could muster up in that moment. Mumbling again to himself, he grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch  and wrapped you both in it. You were still crying as you tucked yourself safely into his side. You felt badly for staining his shirt. 

“Ich weiß nicht, was ich tun soll (I don’t know what to do).” You spoke in a whisper as you gripped onto his shirt with dear life. 

And frankly, maybe his way was a bit extreme, but he only had one train of thought as he hummed between the two of you, his arm tightening around you. 

Take you far away from him and bring her home to you, Schumacher. 

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“I know I tried, I was not stable

Flawed by pride, I miss my sanguine eyes

So hold my hands up, breathe in and breathe out”

As school children, it seemed like the two of you were inseparable. There were weekends where you didn’t see him, of course, but you’d always get to talk on the phone after his karting events. You truly appreciated the way his family opened up their home and arms to you, as well. You really didn’t know how much they knew about your own home life, but it was something to be said that they never invaded your privacy. 

Mick had finished second in his karting race, which wasn’t the result he obviously was vying for, but it was amazing nonetheless. As his family made their way back to the hotel room, he got cleaned up and made his way over to the tiny kitchen. 

“Has she called yet?” Mick’s small voice interrupted his mother’s train of thought. 

“No, baby. But I will let you know when she does; I always do.” Mick’s mother reassured him as he frowned and walked towards the tv area of the hotel room. 

Mick’s mother sighed and watched her son sulk on over to the couch. She knew how much he cared for you, and even as young as he was, she also knew he loved you. He might have not known it was love at the time, but she knew all the signs of it and he exhibited every single one of them. She put away whatever she was working on, and made her way over to the couch. She sat beside her son and grabbed his hand reassuringly. 

“Is there something wrong, Sohn (son)?” 

“She never is this late to call me, Mama…” He quietly uttered. “I think there is something wrong.” 

While his mother pressed for more information he truly didn’t have, he tried his best to vocalize all the things he noticed about you that were not typical. His mother began piecing the tiny bits of information he was giving to her together and all she could was sigh. She couldn’t have fathomed what you were going through at home and maybe Mick didn’t realize the signs as he listed them off for her, but she sure did. Part of her wanted to do something about too, right then and there… But it wasn’t totally her place either. She didn’t know the severity of the situation or if Mick was retelling things as correctly as a young boy could. All she could do was put it in the back of her head and make note of it. 

A few hours later, Mick’s mother entered the room where Mick was relaxing on the full sized bed. He was playing some game on his Gameboy, his tongue slightly hanging out in pure concentration. She cleared her throat and handed him her phone. It took him a second to register what was happening, but as soon as it clicked he put his Gameboy down and grabbed the phone excitedly. Mick’s mother couldn’t help but smile as she left her son to his own devices. 

“Smidge! Finally, you call. I have been waiting all afternoon for you to call!” Mick was energized now as he set up on his bed. He could hear you shuffling around, presumably trying to find a place to sit. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Now, Mick was around a lot of loud karts and when he’d go to his dad’s races, those were even louder. Was his hearing as bad as it was at his age or were you being abnormally quiet? 

“Smidge? I can barely hear you! You have got to learn to speak up on the phone.” 

Again, you said something but he could barely understand it. He tried to push you to speak louder as he pressed the phone to his ear as closely as he humanely could. 

���Es tut mir… Leid. Ich… verstecke… mich und muss… flüstern… (I’m sorry. I’m hiding and I have to whisper).” You finally sputtered out in broken German. 

Mick’s eyes widened as he finally understood what you were telling him. He didn’t care if you spoke an entirely different language, he would do anything he could to understand you. 

“Vor wem versteckst du dich (Who are you hiding from)?” Mick was fully sat up, his legs dangling off the side of the bed now as he was on alert. It took you another few moments to gain enough bravery to speak. 

“I’m hiding from-“ 

Suddenly, you were cut off by a booming voice. The voice was deep and loud enough that Mick could hear it over the phone. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he tried not to be afraid. The voice on the other line was muddled, but Mick picked up a few things here and there. 

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE PHONE?” 

“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME, GIRL!” 

“I’m sorry, dad! I’m sorry, please!” Your voice was frantic as you defended yourself to the best of your ability. 

Mick was rushing now to where his mom sat on that same couch. He gestured for her to put it on speaker and listen too. Mick’s mother’s expression fell as she listened to absolute abuse you were going through and she knew right then and there, it would be something she would have to do something about. 

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you stupid little girl!” 

“Daddy, please-“ 

And then the line went dead, with the sound of your phone being crushed - stepped on in brute force. 

Your voice was so tiny as you shrunk into yourself. You had no intention of allowing the Schumacher’s to hear that part of your life. You were deeply worried that they were going to try and intervene now and make matters… worse? You had a million thoughts going a million miles a minute. 

But just as fast as those thoughts raced through your mind, was just as fast as your father stepped the phone. Mick knew you would deny everything, or at least tell him that your father was just exceptionally upset that day. He knew you’d come up with any and every excuse to protect the very man who was supposed to be protecting you. Mick couldn’t comprehend any of it. But he knew he would be there for you to make sure when you were ready, and you let your guilt be washed away… That he would make certain you never hurt again. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“And in the middle of the night, I may watch you go

There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown

There'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

You may not trust the promises of the change I'll show

But I'd be yours if you'd be mine”

Mick and the rest of his family were on a short summer break in Australia. He offered for you to join him as he always wants you by his side, but due to your mother’s declining health you had to refuse. Of course he understood, but he was still disappointed. He remembered distinctly you telling him that Australia was one of your favorite places and that you wish you could move there one day. 

And it being summer in Australia, the sun was sweltering and Mick was trying not to get sunburnt as he sat under the tree near the lake where his family was staying. There was an old bench swing attached to the large branches above it. Mick debated the stability of the swing and the branches, but eventually gave in and sat on it. Gently swinging back and forth, he took in the scenery and the sight of the beautiful vast lake in front of him. 

He missed you. And sure he missed all his other friends, but you weren’t just anybody else. He missed you. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and searched for your name. Opening up the text message thread between you two, he began to type. 

Smidgen ❤️: Smiiiiiiiidge, i misssssssss you!! 

You were at your mother’s house, trying to spend as much time with her as you could. She was taking a nap in the recliner beside you when you heard your phone ding. 

You: Mickey, you sound drunk. Are you drunk? You know you’re not supposed to text people when you’re inebriated 😅

Mickey 🐭:  Never! But I am not drunk, I just miss you. 

You: Mick, you always miss me. How is Aussie? 

Mickey 🐭: Boring without you.

You: As are most things. I’m sorry I couldn’t join you this year. 

On the other side of the world, Mick sighed as you two continued to text. He loved his family and he loved his off time, but a deep seated part of him that had been growing and growing over so many years worried about you being by yourself. What if something were to happen and he was three continents away from you? What if he couldn’t protect you? You had always tried to reassure him that you could take care of yourself when he would be away, and that typically when you were at your mother’s house, you in fact were left undisturbed. 

He knew this. But he didn’t care for it nonetheless. 

Another two weeks went by on his vacation and as he tried to keep busy with various adventurous activities, the image of your smile and the sound of laughter filled his brain as if it they were always meant to be there, resting neatly in the crevices of his mind. 

There was only about a week and a half left before he got to go back home to Germany. Mick was sprawled out on his bed, listening to some music. Soon, the sound of the doorbell ringing caught his attention. He was the only one currently home, so he annoyingly turned his music off and got up to go see what the fuss was about. Upon opening the door he was stopped in his tracks. He practically had to scoop his jaw off of the floor. 

“Smidge? Do my eyes deceive me?” You shook your head with a grin. 

Mick engulfed you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and peppering your face with kisses. He was always very affectionate with you. He brought you inside and gathered his breath back into his lungs. You had a duffel bag and a backpack with you that you managed to set down finally after the long awaited reunion was over. Looking around the house that was clearly lived in, you turned back to your best friend. He was grinning one of the biggest grins you had ever seen on his face while he grabbed two water bottles. Opening yours for you, he handed you the bottle and waited for you to sip it. 

“I cannot believe you are here! I think this is the happiest I have ever been.” 

“I can see that!” You laughed along with him as you took a few more sips of water. You sighed happily as you put the cap back on the bottle. “Is there a place I can put my stuff?” 

Mick nodded with elation as he grabbed your two bags. Gesturing with his head, he motioned for you to go towards his room. You opened the door and saw that the bed was made and it was fairly clean. It was almost as if he knew you would come here. Mick set down the bags and awaited for you to finish your scan of the room. You turned around and didn’t realize how closely he was standing behind you, as you collided with his body. He used his hands to steady you and definitely took the opportunity to bring you into another hug. The smell of his cologne was familiar; safe. You nuzzled into his chest as his arm found solace wrapped around your body. 

He didn’t know why you were here, and he really didn’t care, but he also knew that there was probably a good reason. It had to have been a good reason if you left your mother with her home care nurse, instead of… 

Suddenly, Mick braced for the worst. 

“Mick… Mick, you’re squeezing me too tightly.” You croaked out trying to unravel yourself from him. Immediately, he loosened his grip on you and smiled slightly. 

“Sorry, Smidge. I just missed you a lot.” The two of you made your way to his bed and laid down on it together. 

You easily found your way to the side of him and nestled in comfortably while he rested his head on top of yours. 

“As glad as I am that you are here… Is your mother…?” Mick awkwardly tried to start a conversation. He needed to know one way or the other. 

“She’s alive, Mick. She’s alive.” 

The blond boy sighed a sigh of relief, pulling you even closer to him. He could feel his body relax and his body temperature increase when you would cuddle him. He didn’t respond to you, only hummed in consolation. 

It had happened before in Monaco, the overwhelming feeling that you needed more from him. He didn’t pry further as to why you were there, and maybe that was a big reason as to why you were feeling pulled to him. For once, he didn’t press you to explain yourself or question why you bought a plane ticket all the way to Australia when your mother was as sick as she was. He simply was there to be there, and that meant more to you than anything at that moment. 

You climbed on top of him, your bodies finding their ways around each other. Your legs were on either side of him as you sat on his torso. His hands found your hips, his eyes finding yours. And as glanced down at the boy below you, you wondered to yourself if this was always how it was supposed to be between the two of you. Leaning down and closing the gap between you, you again pressed your lips against his. 

It was more fervent this time though. The catastrophic and carnal need to feel his hands roam your body and his lips claim yours as his overwhelmed your senses as your body melted into his. He was vigilant as he explored your body with his hands, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. You had to take a breath between the multiple shows of endearments between the two of you. His eyes were glued to you as you sat back up on his torso. Peeling your shirt off, you tossed it somewhere. Mick just watched in adoration as you removed your bra as well. He looked at your body on top of his as though you were sculpted by DaVinci himself. And by all accounts, you were.  

You blushed at the attention he was giving you, only to remove yourself from sitting on top of him. He frowned and wondered if he did anything wrong. But before he could begin mentally listing things he could have done wrong, you tugged on his own shirt. He sat up and reached his hands back behind his head. 

“Can I?” You interjected quickly your eyes filled with curiosity.

Mick just smiled and nodded. He let his shirt fall again and waited for you to approach him. You scooted closer to him and took a deep breath in and released. Sure, you had seen him shirtless countless amounts of times, but this was much, much different. You didn’t mind it. 

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and with a trying motion, you began to pull the shirt over his head. He assisted you a bit, his broad shoulders getting in the way of you being able to pull the shirt completely over his head. Your fingers began to dance down his chest, the circles and trails they were leaving behind was a feeling Mick would never forget. Still sitting up, you climb into his lap and had your legs on either side of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tugged at the hair on the nape of it. Again, with a hunger and desperation you had never felt before your lips crashed into his and his hands found your hair in a hurried attempt to get as close to you as possible. 

He never wanted to let go of you and the feeling that came with this. He had loved you for so long. And to have you here, in his bed, making it known that maybe… just maybe you loved him too… He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning. He didn’t want it to be a dream. 

“Bist du sicher (Are you sure?)” Mick finally breathed out in between sloppy kisses. You gleamed at him, your lips swollen with fervor. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded. “I need words, schätzen. I need you to say-“ 

“Yes. I’m sure, Schumacher.” 

Mick pulled you in again, his lips finding your neck as he peppered it with kisses, sucking ever so prudently as he made his way up and down the soft skin of your neck. 

You didn’t know what would come after this, after everything was said and done… But for now and just for now, you wanted to be his just as much as he wanted to be yours. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

current day 

“So love the one you hold

And I will be your goal

To have and to hold

A lover of the light” 

It had to remain to be seen how long Hamilton was going be out of the season. He was going through some personal issues and while you knew Silverstone was going to be your first race, you didn’t expect to have to race before that. And of fucking course your first race is Monaco. You were busy training and preparing for the course, trying your best to keep a strong head on your shoulders. There was so much pressure with you being the first female driver and Monaco being your first official race, that you began to feel nauseous. Finding the nearest bin, you excreted the contents of your stomach into it, grimacing at the bitter taste that came afterwards. 

“Kiddo? Are you right?” Daniel’s thick accent interrupted you washing of your hands. 

“Yeah, fine. I’m just nervous.” You washed your mouth out with the sink water and wiped it on the nearest towel. 

“I get that…” Daniel looked around the paddock as you followed him with your eyes. “Hey, do ya think we can go somewhere private, to chat?” 

You cautiously nodded and led him to your driver’s room, shutting the door behind you. 

“What’s this about, Dan?” 

Daniel awkwardly sat down on the chair and ran a hand through his curls. Making a few tiny popping sounds with his mouth he finally looked at you. 

“Is there, uh, something goin’ on with you and Mick?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Sure, you two weren’t talking as much anymore. And you didn’t think it was that obvious, but you remained stoic trying to gauge where this conversation was headed to. 

“He’s been like, really, weird.” Daniel struggled to get the words out as he scrunched up his face. 

“Uh… I’m sorry that’s he’s been acting funnily, but maybe he’s going through something on his own.” You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Well… I mean… He’s acting like, more, sulky than usual?” Nodding along as the Aussie driver continued to list off reasons as to why and how he was more sulky, you finally stopped him before he said anything else. 

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry, Dan. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shot him a smile and waited for him to respond. 

“He loves you, you know. Like, a lot. Like more than the average man has the capacity for love.” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

The last time you two had really spoken in person was when you ended up fighting. You knew he loved you. You knew he was in love with you… But he also knew that you try so hard to not allow yourself to be vulnerable like that. And maybe the relationship was physically reciprocated, Mick struggled with the fact that it was not emotionally reciprocated more than anything. You loved him, sure. He was your best friend… But the voice inside your head knew that for your own protection, you shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone… Especially Mick. You didn’t deserve him and he didn’t deserve someone who has made him wait this long for something he so desperately craved. All you could do was reiterate that you’d talk to him and try to get him to be less-sulky. 

The Australian soon left the room and you were alone. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed Mick. 

“Schätzen, is that you? Are you okay?” Mick’s tone was immediately serious as he answered the phone. You two were barely talking and now you were calling him. 

“I’m fine, Mickey. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Mick was fumbling with something on the other end. It was odd too that he didn’t immediately accept your dinner invitation. 

“Is tonight not a good night for you?” 

Soon, your heart dropped once again and as it lay wafting in the pit of your stomach, you could feel whatever contents were left in there if any, slowly creeping their way back up your throat. 

“Who is that?” It was a woman’s voice. She was giggling. “Ugh, Mickeyyyy, hang up!!!” 

Mickey. 

No one else called him that except for you, in fact he made it a point to not allow it. That name was reserved for you… So you thought. 

Mick mumbled something to her in French, his hand covering the microphone. 

“Yeah, I could make tonight-“ 

“Nevermind, you’re busy and I don’t want you to give up your evening just for me.” Your tone as surprising as it was to you, was actually quite genuine. You never wanted him to feel like he couldn’t have fun. 

“Smidge, I can-“ 

“No, seriously it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Mick continued to move around where he was, the thick accent of her Monegasque-ness peeking through the phone call.  

If your German was terrible, your French was even worse. You sighed to yourself and decided to hang up the phone. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation and you didn’t want to pay attention anymore. Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your backpack and headed out of the paddock to your car. 

There was something that had changed so quickly about your surroundings. As you reached for your keys it was if the wind was knocked out from your lungs. You slowly turned around, keys still in your hand. 

How the fuck did he find you here of all places? 

“Hello, daughter. Shall we have it out at your place of… work… Or is there somewhere I can knock some fucking sense into you?” 

You looked around at the parking lot and by every strand of bad luck, it was seemingly empty and you two were the only ones there. You had every intention of shutting it down, right then and there, but you stood frozen in front of the man who was supposed to love you, but instead you spent your entire life picking up the pieces of the mess he made. Some of the pieces were even lost in the trauma of trying to keep your composure long enough to get where you were. Mick was always the one to lend you the broken parts that seemed to fit perfectly, just so you could have the wherewithal to start over again… And again, and again, and again… 

“Did you suddenly go mute? Answer me.” You flinched in response, your back hitting your car behind you. You could just hear him calling you pathetic. You knew he was thinking it. 

“I can drive us to my hotel room. Just… Just don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Your father rolled his eyes as he snatched the car keys from you. With your head hung like you were a little girl in trouble again, you trudged over to the passenger’s side. You placed your backpack in the back seat and waited for your father to drive off and take you hopefully to your hotel room. 

What seemed like a century later, you two were up in your hotel room. You stood on opposite ends of the living space provided. 

“This is quite fancy. How can you afford it?” 

“Formula One pays well, but I know you’re not here to talk about my job.” You were short with him, trying to keep your emotional and mental distance. “Why are you here, dad? I’m very busy and-“ 

He hastily closed the distance between you, grabbing the back of your head, clumps of hair intertwining with his knuckles. Forcing you to look up at him, his glaring and empty eyes matched his unwavering stoicism. He squinted at you, smirking. 

“Pathetic. You’ve always been fucking pathetic.” Releasing your hair, your father smacked you in the face, causing you to be  tossed to the ground, by brute force. He was now circling you like a vulture does a dead zebra. You didn’t dare look up at him. You remained submissive on the floor, making certain that you didn’t shed a tear. 

“Where’s your boyfriend now, huh? Not coming to your fucking rescue this time?” You didn’t answer. 

With a swift kick to your side you fell over on the cold floor and held your ribs in pain. Still, you did not cry.  

“Answer me! I asked you a goddamn question!” 

You opened your eyes to find your father towering over you still, sure as hell ready to deliver another kick to your side. 

“He’s out with friends! Out with friends!” You repeated in complete fear. You could hear your father scoff and walk away from where you were. 

You thought that would be the last of it, and as you began to get up there was another kick to your side. This time it was a little lower as you felt the pain radiating up and down your leg. He must’ve hit your thigh or something. 

You were breathing heavily, doing all you could not to cry. After he got a good look at you, he threw your phone down at your feet. He surely shattered your screen. And fuck if it if he didn’t know what he was doing, because he did in fact kick in places you could cover up. And even so, you the blow to your face wasn’t hard enough to leave a lasting mark. Just one for the time being. Fuck. 

Soon enough, you could hear the hotel room slam. You were sure you were going to get complaints from other hotel goers, because it ended up shaking the walls. With every bit of strength you had, you reached for your phone. The screen was indeed cracked, but still usable. You knew that Mick was out and occupied… Your heart cried hoping that where he was, he’d hear you and come… But you also didn’t want to bother him… You leaned up against the wall, your breathing shallow. Looking at the phone screen you dialed the only other person you could think of. 

On the third ring, they answered and you resented how happy they sounded. 

“Oi! Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Daniel’s accent poked through the phone as you tried to gain enough composure. 

You were afraid of him seeing you like this, because you were one hundred percent sure he had no idea what abuse you’ve gone through your entire life. It was strictly need to know between you and the Schumacher’s. Releasing the pent up air in your lungs finally, you stuttered out his name. 

“Wait, wait, what happened?” Daniel’s tone of voice suddenly changed as you repeated as best as you could the turn of events. You could hear him grabbing his car keys and leaving his apartment. 

“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…” You were incessantly repeating, your sobbing growing louder and louder. He was trying his best to reassure you through the phone. He instructed through his own panic to stay on the phone with him until he got to you. 

You obeyed as you always did. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you heard a knock on the hotel door that scared you half to death. Maybe it was your father coming back to finish what he started. 

“Hey, it’s Dan. Can you let me in or are you…” Daniel’s voice trailed off into hopelessness. He didn’t want to imagine to you were so hurt you couldn’t even answer the door. 

Groaning loudly, holding your side trying to support every weary step you took towards the door, finally you managed to turn the handle enough where Daniel could just push it open. You stumbled backwards as you had to find somewhere to lean up against. 

Daniel’s brown eyes were immediately scanning every inch of your body, trying to decode your physical state. You were keeled over the tiny kitchen counter provided. Your shoulders rose and fell far too slowly for anybody’s liking. He saw how swollen and red your cheek had become and there was an emotion begin to bubble in his stomach and protrude through his chest that he rarely ever felt. His kind hand reached out to rub your back, being so careful that he didn’t hurt you. Daniel helped you over to the couch and sat you down. He didn’t dare say words but he knew you would tell him when you were ready. 

“He found me at the track… Took my keys and made me tell him where my hotel was…” 

Daniel nodded cautiously along, his eyes painstakingly wide as he did his best to take in the information. 

“I didn’t have a choice… I didn’t want… Fuck…” 

“Hey, it’s… Take your time.” Daniel wanted to say that it was okay, but clearly… it was definitely not. You took another deep breath. 

“He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me by my hair, and started yelling at me…. Then slapped me or something… And i fell to the ground…” 

Daniel gulped in absolute horror as he did his best to try and keep composure, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth. 

“He kicked me in my ribs and in my right leg… I think… I can’t even… Remember…. Then he threw my phone at my feet and left…” 

The Aussie boy next to you licked his lips in anxiety and you could see out of the corner of your eye how hard he was gripping the sofa beneath him. A familiar sight to you, as he white knuckled the cloth. Now, it was his turn to take a deep breath. 

“Listen, this not your fault and I don’t want you to ever think that it is, alright?” You nodded to his words, unable to make eye contact out of shame and guilt. “I’m going to get some ice, right? It’s just down the hallway. I’m going to take the room key so you can stay here with the door locked.” 

Daniel did one more visual pass over you as you slumped to the side of the couch. You were exhausted on all fronts. You knew though you couldn’t fall asleep, in case you had a concussion too. He left the room shortly and as he ventured down to where the ice machine was he was furiously dialing Mick. But to no avail, he wasn’t answering his phone. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: Mick!!! Mate!!! Pick up the phone or like, come to the hotel!! She’s in a bad way, mate. And fuck, there’s only so much I can do. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: I’m going to murder you mate, please pick up the phone! 

Daniel shot off a few more panicked texts after those before he reached the ice machine. He figured you wouldn’t want him texting any other person either. All he could do was wait. He filled the ice bucket and practically sprinted back to your hotel room. Opening the door with the key, he announced himself so as not to scare or startle. You lifted your head and watched him get a towel to wrap the ice in so it wouldn’t burn your skin. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body broken. 

If you died tonight, that would be better than anything to follow. 

Daniel stuck around for a few more hours, keeping you company as he made sure you got something to eat and drank water as best as you could. He tried to also convince you to tell Toto that you couldn’t race tomorrow in free practice… But that was immediately shut down by you. Daniel didn’t want to fight that battle when there were other matters to attend to. 

You could see that it was now dark out, and you had to go to sleep at some point. Sighing to yourself, you turned towards the very tired Aussie. 

“I need to shower, Dan… Could you maybe, help me get, in there?” 

The Australian’s brown eyes widened so much they encompassed his entire face. 

“I, uh… Yeah, I can, uh, do that for you.” Daniel stuttered out as he rose to his feet. 

Reaching out a hand towards you, he helped you up and over to the bathroom. He was going to kill Mick for not answering his phone. And Mick was going to kill Daniel for seeing you naked. But what other choices were there? The two of you made it into the bathroom and he motioned for you to sit on the toilet seat. 

“Can you raise your arms up at all? I don’t want to have to cut your shirt.” Daniel chuckled nervously. You only nodded with a smile, lifting your arms as far as you could. 

“Fuck… I forgot… Fuck…” You cowered in pain as you held your left side. “Okay, I can do it. Just, uh, if you need to stretch out the shirt to get it over my head. I don’t mind.” 

He complied with his famous smile and soon your shirt was off and to the side. He could see the forming bruise on your rib cage and couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in internally. He kept his thoughts to himself as he helped you step out of your jeans. Down to your underwear and bra, the tall Aussie just stood there. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You joked. throwing a wink at him. You might as well break the tension with a joke. “But, I really think I got it from here. Thank you so much, Dan.” You placed a kiss on his cheek and as he made his way out of the bathroom, he could hear you singing to yourself before the sound of the water escaping the shower head covered your voice. 

He once again took his phone out and finally saw that he had a lot of missed messages from Mick. 

(14) Missed Calls from: Mick Schumacher 

(29) Text Messages from: Mick Schumacher 

Daniel looked through all the texts as fast as he could, but the only watch catching his eye that his friend would be over soon… And that was… About twenty minutes ago… Which means… 

“Smidge! Smidge! Let me in, it’s Mick! Let me in, or I swear-“ 

Daniel opened the hotel door and immediately was greeted by a very distraught man. He let Mick in, and let Mick scour the hotel space like a bloodhound looking for a missing person. Mick stopped short of the shut bathroom door, as he could hear the water running. 

“What happed, Daniel? Fuck! I should’ve been here, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” Mick didn’t allow enough time for Daniel to answer before he was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. If it weren’t a hotel room - your hotel room, Daniel was 99% Mick would’ve started to punch the walls. 

“Mate, mate, calm down. I can’t talk to you when you’re like, all mad.” 

“She even asked me to come out to dinner tonight, and if I just had fucking said yes - God fucking dammit!” Mick didn’t know what to do with his body with the amount of pure, unadulterated fury riddled his body. “I’m so fucking stupid! Ich bin so ein Idiot (I’m such an idiot)!”

 

Mick continued to yell in German. Daniel could barely speak proper English, so he had no idea what he was saying. The rant was cut off though by the sound of the shower turning off in the distance. Mick took one deep breath and breathed out through his nose. 

“Thank you, Daniel… For being there for her.” 

Daniel put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Giving it a good squeeze, the two boys said goodbye to each other. Mick made Daniel promised not to tell a soul. And for the first time in his life, Daniel knew he was going to take this promise to the grave. 

Mick gained some more self control and pushed the bedroom door open slightly. Giving it a small knock, his voice immediately made you perk up where you were. 

“Kann ich den Raum betreten (Can I enter the room)?” 

Still wrapped in a towel, you slowly made your way to the ajar door. 

“Bist du anständig (Are you decent)?”

“No, but come in anyway, please.” 

Mick opened the door further and saw that you were sat on the edge of the bed. The towel hugged you tightly, but he noticed you were gripping it as if it were going to fly away from your body. He rushed to your side and took you into his arms. He could tell you had been crying despite the shower. He didn’t even notice the tiny bruise forming on your face before immersing you into his embrace. Shortly after some time spent in his arms, you peeled away and finally made eye contact. 

Mick’s hand went to your bruised cheek, his thumb just above hovering the swelled skin. Your dad had never hit you in your face before, he always was so careful. Mick couldn’t help but stifle back some tears, his previous selfishness clouding his racing thoughts. 

“I need help getting dressed for bed, Mick.” 

He knew what that meant. He knew exactly what that meant, in fact. But without another word, he kissed your forehead and got up to go over to your suitcase. He took out some underwear and a t shirt. Carefully, he helped you step into your underwear, looking away when you needed to adjust the elastic. The air caught in your chest again as you tried to calm yourself. Mick hummed comfortingly and allowed you to take all the time you needed. Your hand was shaking as you began to take off the towel. You didn’t care about him seeing your chest, no. He’s already seen it. You were not wanting him to see how bruised your torso was and how big of a bruise there was on your thigh. But you had to, and so you did. 

Mick couldn’t find the words. He looked down at your bruising body, his lips beginning to tremble. He was shaking his head unable to believe that because of his own stupidity, your body was again bruised and broken. 

He helped you put a short on and helped you climb into bed. You just wanted to sleep and dream about a better day tomorrow. Mick made sure you were comfortable before going to turn off all the lights and making sure the hotel door was locked and dead-bolted. He made his way back to you and crawled into the bed with you. Your body was too sore to move around much, so Mick just went where you needed him to be. Soon after you tucked underneath his arm, he could hear you steadily breathing, the warmth and security of his body making you for the first time today feel human again. 

“I’m so sorry, Schätzen. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here…” Mick whispered into the air, not knowing if you were asleep or not. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep either. He wanted to stay awake as long as possible just in case your father decided to come back. 

“It’s fine, Mickey… Let’s just… Go to sleep…” Your voice was filled with fatigue as you began to doze off into unconsciousness. Mick pulled you closer into his body. 

The emotionally sapped German boy who you adored so much was laid there contemplating whether or not he deserved to be there beside you. If anything, Daniel would be the one that deserves this spot. He was there… He came when you called… He was everything Mick promised to be for you, but in failing to do so, Mick just stared at the ceiling frozen in regret. He could feel some tears falling down his face, wiping them quickly with his free hand. Mick took a deep breath once more and suddenly, his mind was made up. He had one goal in life now. He didn’t care about race car driving, or sponsorships… Hell, he didn’t even care about anything else at this point. Mick Schumacher vowed to himself that he would never allow anything else to happen to you from then on and out until the day he died. He knew it, you probably knew it even as you slept on his chest… There was one goal he had now. 

Mick Schumacher was going to find your father and make him pay. 

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TL;DR: This chapter depicts phases of reader's life as she navigates hiding the abuse she suffers from her best friend. He finds out and he vows to never allow her to be hurt again. There are emotional and romantic boundaries crossed in this chapter too, but nothing too explicit - Just the allusion to reader and Mick having sex. The last part is written for the current day. Reader's abusive father finds her after training and again physically abuses her. Daniel Ricciardo comes to her rescue as they both await Mick to arrive.

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https://www.helpguide.org/find-help

https://nomoredirectory.org/

https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

https://www.domesticshelters.org/resources/national-global-organizations/international-organizations

https://www.therapyroute.com/article/helplines-suicide-hotlines-and-crisis-lines-from-around-the-world

These are some helpful links I found while searching the internet. Please do not hesitate to reach out for help for yourself or anyone you may know is involved in a violent and abusive situation.