#the next book announcement can’t come soon enough

[amandapearls]

Every year this is what happens:

The Elriels give themselves a month long celebration for their ship. Which is totally fine, you do you. No issues there. Then about 2 weeks into Elriel Month I guess they start getting bored because then the “anti” post start popping up. And then by the end of Elriel Month it’s like a constant bombardment of anti-Elucien and anti-Gwynriel post coming from the Elriels.

Unfortunately I see a good bit of these post because I follow the Elain Archeron tag.

But this is how it goes every year in May.

Why can’t people just enjoy /focus on their ship during appreciation weeks or months? Why does it have to turn into a “anti” feast?

You best believe whenever Elucien Week rolls around all I’m going to care about is celebrating my ship with my friends. And, of course, fan-girling over all the beautiful Elucien art and fanfics.

PS- To the few elriels who are actually kind and just enjoying their ship month, then I hope you have a good month.

[satorusugurugurl]

We Can Be Louder

Summary: When staying in a hotel, a couple next door is a little too loud— but you and Nanami can be louder.

Characters: Nanami Kento x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: hotel smut, unprotected sex, loud, vocal, moans, dirty talk, p in v, creampie, language

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: I have a mighty need to grope Nanami’s butt rawr! 💚💚💚

“Ooooooh God,” a high pitched voice rang from the hotel room right next to you. “Oh God, baby fuck.” Your eyes widened as you turned your head to look back at the wall behind you. The sound of their bed slamming against the wall was almost deafening and powerful enough to cause your own bed to shake.

The sound of their phony moans made your nose turn up in sympathy for the girl and embarrassment from how loud they were. Nanami sat beside you in bed, placing his book down as the moans grew louder. From the whimpers and grunts, you had an inkling that this was not going to last long for them. Your best guess was that it was a young college couple; maybe it was their first time, or they weren't as experienced. Your hypothesis was all focused on the girl who was practically moaning like a porn star. It's wholly fake and unnatural.

“She’s faking it,” You announced to Kento as you took a sip of your wine, “and the poor guy has no idea that she is.” Nanami chuckled, furrowing his eyebrows as he placed his bookmark in place, turning to watch you closely. “I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't last longer than five minutes.”

“Oh, Love,” Nanami chuckled deeply, the sound igniting a fire inside you. “It's going to end way faster than that.”

“Oooh, my goodness, Ken, what makes you say that?”

“Nngh!” the stranger next door shouted as the bed started creaking again. “D-Don’t squeeze so t-tight!”

The corner of Nanami’s mouth twitched as he fought against a grin. “That right there speaks volumes.”

You found yourself unable to focus on your book, more intrigued by the young couple next door. You kept stealing glances at the wall, listening in on their not-so-quiet conversation. The girl kept screaming, ‘Oh my God, ’ while her companion kept asking questions like, ‘Oh yeah?’ and ‘You like that baby?’ It was quite entertaining. They both were inexperienced, unsure of what to say in bed, only having porn or books to use as a reference as to what sex would be like. They were mixing fiction into reality.

The bed pounding got faster and louder. “Oh,” you laughed, “he’s gonna finish soon.” Nanami laughed as you fist pumped in the air to the sound of the bed frame being slammed into the wall.

“I’m gonna-” the young man shouted, “I’m gonna blow my load!” You choked on your wine at his declaration, the alcohol coming out of your nose. “Oooooooh fuck!!!” You covered your mouth, coughing roughly as the man moaned loudly. It wasn’t short after that the girl gave a very poor performance of her own orgasm. Apparently, she didn’t want him to feel bad that she hadn’t finished with him. The moans that had barely started died down, leaving you and Nanami staring at the wall with sympathy. Glancing down at your watch, you grinned, holding it out for Nanami to see. “Five minutes on the spot.”

He shook his head, laughing slightly, “Pretty good for a first time; I can’t tell you how long I lasted my first time.” He grabbed his glass of wine and drank before running his tongue over his lips. “I’m relatively certain the girl I was with just laid there awkwardly.”

“Yeah,” you turned on your side, looking up at him, “my first time was at this guy's house. I was so excited to do it finally.” You held your fist, putting a single finger up as you spoke. “There was hardly any kissing, we undressed ourselves, no foreplay, he got on top, and it was over in literally one minute.”

“This is the part where you tell me you’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope, one minute was all I got. Hell, I didn’t have my first real orgasm until I was twenty-two.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” he put his book down on the nightstand. “what do you say we make up for that first time?” You giggled, grinning ear to ear as Nanami undid the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll make sure to give you the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Make up for the ones you’ve had to fake all those years ago.”

You lay flat on your back as Nanami removed his shirt, dropping it to the ground. Slowly, he crawled on top of you, looking at you as if you were his prey. There was a dark and needy gleam in his eyes that caused your breath to catch in your throat. You knew right there that it would be a long, sweaty night with him. He began running his long fingers underneath your nightgown. He slowly pushed the silky fabric up, bunching it at your hips. His lips slowly pressed kisses along the inside of your thighs as you ran your finger through his hair, tugging it softly.

A growl that was full of desire escaped his lips as he tugged the nightgown off all the way, throwing it across the room. Before you knew it, he was pulling his pajama pants off, exposing his hardened erection. Licking your lips, you spread your legs open, giving him a better view of your body that he loved. His eyes wandered down, taking you all in, inch by inch, before he grabbed both your legs, putting them over his shoulders. Your mouth suddenly went dry as the head of his cock brushed against your opening.

“God, you’re soaking wet.” He whispered, rocking his hips slowly, the swollen head of his throbbing cock brushed gently against your clit. “I need you. I need to make up for the first time.” Rolling your eyes, you rocked back against him, moaning at the pleasurable sensations rushing through your pussy.

“Nanami, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, so yes, every time we have sex, it’s better than my first time.” You dangled your feet over his shoulders, the head of his cock pressed firmly against your opening. “So what do you say? You stop teasing me and fuck me already. Let’s show these college kids how it’s done.”

He chuckled before kissing you deeply and pressing his forehead against yours. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Slowly he pushed into you, his cock slipping past your slick folds, stretching your walls. The sensation left you moaning loudly as you gripped the sheets underneath you. You squeezed around his cock, taking all of him inside of you as he pressed against your cervix. “Fuck Love,” he groaned, nipping at your lip, “no matter how many times we do this, I’ll never get over how good you feel.” As soon as he was entirely inside of you, his body relaxed. The two of you relished in the feeling of each other's skin.

His hands traced over your body, his hands groping your breasts before sliding down and running down the curves of your body. You mirrored his actions, trailing your hands down his bare and muscular back. Your nails grazed him softly before meeting the fat of his ass. It was at this moment that he pulled out of you, looking into your eyes before he plunged back into you. You cried out, your head falling against the pillows, and your lips parted. His thrusts left your eyes watering at the intense sensation. Nanami hissed, repeating the action several times, each thrust harder than the previous one. The intensity of the rhythm had sweat beading against his neck and over his chest as sweat ran down your own collarbone, trailing over the swells of your breasts.

Your hands grope his ass, allowing you to feel it flex with each thrust in and out of your tight wet pussy. With each push of his hips, the bed slams into the wall behind you. With each thrust that was angeled right against your g-spot, you screamed. As your screams increased in volume, Kento slammed his lips against yours as you cried out in pleasure, shouting his name to the heavens. You wanted everyone in the hotel to know who was fucking you this good. Who was exploring and ravishing your body, treating you like a goddess. When you were with Nanami, it was like experiencing heaven on earth. It was so surreal and so perfect.

The bed slammed harder into the wall as Nanami’s grunts and growls of pleasure grew louder. Your name was like a curse on his lips; it came out like a hiss, a groan, and a gasp. His name escaped your lips like a prayer as you begged him to make you feel good.

“Nanami! Oh fuck Kento!” He stared down at you, smirking at your moans. “Fuck me, baby! Fuck me harder!” He captured your lips against his, his hips hauling harder as he lifted one of your legs in the air. “Oh my God!” you cried out, your eyes rolling back as his cock slammed into your cervix.

“You like that, Love? You like my cock buried deep inside of you?”

‘Y-Yes Ken!” You cried out, digging your fingers into the skin of his arms, “I love it! I love it when you fuck me!”

“That’s my girl,” you clenched harder around him. “Oh darling, are you going to cum already? Cum all over my thick hard cock?” The pleasure inside began to tighten along with the coil in your lower abdomen. Nanami reached down, rubbing your clit as he continued to thrust. Your inner walls throbbed around him as the tightening coil within you threatened to snap at any given second. “Don’t hold back, cum for me, Love, cum for me.” Another brush against your clit had the coil in your abdomen snapped, sending you over the edge.

“Kento!!” You screamed, your walls clenching down around his cock. They fluttered as the immense pleasure rushed through you. Causing your body to wither and jerk underneath him, nails digging into his skin as you came. “Oh my God!”

“Love, fuck nngh!!” He grunted, hips stilling as he came deep within you. You shuddered, mouth falling agape as you felt hot spurts of cum coat your walls. “Oh fuck!” Kento let your leg go before he collapsed on top of you. His chest heaved as he pressed kisses along your shoulder before burying his face against your skin, remaining there.

As he lay on top of you, mumbling how much he loved you, you couldn’t help but smile. Glancing down at your left ring finger, you giggled happily. The ring glimmered in the low lights of the hotel suite. Only two days into your honeymoon, it has been amazing so far. It was a reminder that this was how the rest of your life would be. You and Nanami in bed together, going on trips, loving your loves to the fullest.

“Say, Mrs. Nanami?” Nanami grumbled, lifting his head to look at you. You pushed some hair out of his face, pressing your lips together.

“Yes, Mr. Nanami?”

“Let’s put our books away for the rest of tonight; I would much rather spend the night here inside of you.” He trailed his calloused fingers over your sensitive skin. His request fluttered your heart as you kissed his forehead, nodding in response to his question. “Good, let’s see how long it’ll take for the couple next door to regret getting the room next to the honeymoon suite~.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[hgfictionwriter]

Changes

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie’s used to change, but lately life has hit her with one thing after the next. When her best friend announces she’s leaving, she’s left wondering where it leaves her.

Warnings: none

A/N: Short little comfort piece based on this request.

“You haven’t had any of your tea,” you noted as you watched Jessie out of the corner of your eye.

She reacted slowly. After a few moments giving you a small noise of acknowledgment before she sat up on the couch and took a brief sip of her drink. She set it back down without a word or look.

Janine delivered her news today and Jessie had been very quiet and subdued all evening. She relayed the update to you over text earlier like it was something so trivial and commonplace. You’d asked questions, but even now as the day drew to a close, she very purposefully didn’t elaborate further.

You and Jessie hadn’t been together all that long, just a few months, but you knew her well enough to know that you shouldn’t push. She’d reveal more when she was ready.

So here you were, both quietly sitting on the couch, each immersed in a book. You read the same few paragraphs over and over, thoughts going astray and losing focus, made worse by how you noticed Jessie hadn’t flipped a page in several minutes.

Eventually, Jessie shifted, restless almost. You kept your eyes fixed on your book knowing it was best to let her come to you. In time she cleared her throat and spoke into her book.

“Janine’s leaving - moving away, getting married. Heck, who knows, maybe she’ll have kids soon. Sinc’s retiring. Maybe leaving, too, to be closer to her family.” She sighed quietly, opening her mouth to speak and stalling. She sighed once more. “I don’t know.”

Jessie set down her book and sunk further into the couch. She picked at her fingers absently and was quiet for a moment before giving you a fleeting glance.

“I guess part of me feels like maybe I’m falling behind in some way.” She stared vacantly at the floor before shifting again with another small sigh. “Or being left behind. I don’t know.”

“Hey,” you interjected gently, resting a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t react. “Even if it feels that way, no one’s intentionally leaving you behind. They both love you a lot and you’re important to them.” You struggled to find the right words. “I can’t say for sure, but it seems to be the nature of your work. It’s not easy to put down roots or stay in one place for long. That must be really hard though.”

Jessie exhaled, letting her head fall back against the back of the couch to stare up at the ceiling.

“It is,” she said simply.

“And you’re not falling behind. National team captaincy. You’re a consistent starter for a Shield winning team. The list goes on.”

“The National team is great, but there’s so much bullshit too. I’m doing what I can, but I can’t help but feel like I’m not doing enough,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead. “And I don’t always feel like I’m gelling with the team here. I may start, but I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I haven’t necessarily made the impact I’ve wanted to.”

“There’s absolutely no road map for what the national team is going through. You led them out of a near impossible situation. I’d say you did exceptionally. And as for the Thorns, even if you feel that way, your stats say otherwise. It’s still a new team for you, it’s okay to feel like you’re still finding your place.” You sought eye contact with her, which she offered briefly. “And I think we both know you’re your worst critic.”

“Well. Considering my best friend is leaving to be closer to her fiancé and to, you know, build her life and career and I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself instead, I’d say I deserve some of that criticism,” Jessie said with a slight edge in her tone.

“Jess,” you said softly. “You need to be kind to yourself right now. It’s okay to feel bad or upset. I’m sure you were supportive when she told you and we both know you will be in all of your actions. You can still feel what you feel and be a good friend - all things can be true.”

She was quiet a moment longer before chancing a brief look at you before shifting and rubbing the back of her neck nervously.

“I don’t know. It just feels like a mess,” she said with a huff. “I guess I’m questioning some things now too. A big part of why I came here was to play alongside her and Sinc and in a few short months every aspect of that will no longer exist,” she relayed. “And I left Chelsea with so much confidence that this was the right move, that I’d never grow or get more of a chance there, but things have changed so much over there now I’m wondering what would’ve happened if I’d stayed.”

You cast your gaze downward for a moment, a pang going through you at her words. You hushed it immediately and refocused on her. This wasn’t about you.

“That’s understandable,” you said. “A lot of variables have changed. You couldn’t have known that would be the case though. You made the right decision for you in the moment and that’s really all you - or anyone - can be expected to do.”

She nodded quietly, eyes still trained on the ceiling. You tried to not let your emotions get the best of you. As apprehensive as you felt by this shift, Jessie was not yours to keep. You couldn’t and wouldn’t ever want her to stay unless of her own accord.

“Is that something you want to explore?” You asked, keeping all implications and judgement out of your voice. “Talk with your agent? See what options you might have?”

She shook her head right away. “No. I’m just - just talking. You’re right, I need to give myself time here. I’m just in my head. And being hard on myself.”

She offered you a small smile.

“And in some ways Portland feels more like home to me than London did even after three or four years,” she said. “Not only just lifestyle-wise, but I wouldn’t have met you if I didn’t come here.”

Despite her words, all you could muster was a half-smile that you hoped was reassuring.

“You do seem at home here,” you chuckled, but soon grew earnest. “But, if you wanted to explore other options, I hope you know I wouldn’t hold you back. That’s the last thing I would want to do. I love you and want to support you in wherever your life takes you.”

You did your best to seem nonchalant. “We’re still new, I’m aware of that. So I hope whatever you choose to do, that it’s with solely you in mind. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Jessie turned to you now, her body language opening up as she looked at you. She took your hand.

“Hey, I know we’re new, but I love you, too. Even if everything was falling apart here - which, it isn’t, even if I’m talking like it is - it would all be worth it because I got to meet and fall in love with you.”

You held her gaze, digesting her words before smiling and nodding your acceptance.

“That’s really sweet. Thank you. I really hope you feel like there’s still a lot of good for you here - outside of me,” you said.

“I do,” she said with a soft smile. She released a quick breath, looking away before meeting your gaze again. “I just need to remind myself that everyone’s on their own path. Janine has hers. Same as Sinc. And I have mine too. They don’t need to always be parallel or intertwine. I just need to adjust.”

“That makes a lot of sense. You came here with a particular expectation and vision and it’s turning out differently than you pictured. It’s normal that you need some time to adjust.”

Jessie sighed, more contentedly this time and leaned her head on your shoulder. A rush of warmth and affection went through you and you kissed the top of her head. She wrapped her arm around your middle and cuddled in.

“Thank you for being so sweet,” she said. “And patient.”

“Of course,” you told her as you kissed her head once more.

“No. Some people don’t get it. They have a hard time giving me space when I need it. Like Janine,” she joked before humming softly. You gave her a squeeze.

“She’ll still be your best friend,” you reminded her. “You’ve spent more time apart than together and you’re solid - it’s never stopped you before.” You gave her a light nudge. “You may just have to take on more media now that Janine won’t be jumping to step in front of the mic.”

Jessie groaned with a laugh. “Don’t even put that out there.”

She exhaled, resting against you more fully.

“Truthfully, I’m feeling a bit lost or uncertain in some ways, but I have trust in myself and in the process. I know even if I’m feeling apprehensive about all of the change and upheaval around me, I know this is where I need to be. And to be here with you feels absolutely right.”

[dira333]

The Cat and the Human - Kenma Kozume x Reader

I will never willingly admit that Kenma's my favorite even though everyone knows I really really really really really really really really really love him... So.... have this fun piece instead. Also, @notsochillnerd this is kind of an excerpt of "Young Love" that I came up with today. Have fun with it knowing what you do.

“The story goes like this:  The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them.

You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key. 

Plot twist: The woman is a shapeshifter. She is the cat.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Kenma asks, engrossed in his hand-held game. He’s taken his perch in the comfy chair next to the Couch you’re lying on, his seating position weird enough to give everyone back cramps but him.

“I thought it was obvious,” you say, pick up your book again, and continue reading.

It’s a good book, really. One you’ve been trying to finish for weeks now.

It’s just a little hard to focus when Kenma’s sitting there, perfectly disheveled hair falling into his eyes, the gold in his hair glinting in the sunlight.

But you prevail, your eyes returning to the page.

And it gets easier, a little bit at least, to get sucked into the narrative.

Only to be pulled out of it quite harshly.

“Want to cuddle?” Kenma asks, pointy knees digging into your side as he climbs onto you without waiting for an answer.

“Do I have a choice?” 

“No.”

-

Kenma is like a cat.

It’s a common inside joke by now, one that’s already a little grey around the edges, but he keeps it alive with all his adorable quirks.

Kenma hates water - do not take him swimming - and he’s usually more active during the night. He can sleep for hours on end, his body seemingly consisting of nothing but liquid, curled into the oddest shapes.

More than once you checked his pulse because you thought he fell down the stairs and died only to find out he just couldn’t be bothered to make it to bed before snoozing off.

Those things are all old news though, commented on time and time again by his friends. 

You wonder how many of them know just how cat-like he reacts to attention.

-

It’s the way he shies away from the spotlight, hides whenever someone’s trying to get him to do something - even things he would have ordinarily liked doing - only to come out just when no one’s paying him any attention anymore.

Maybe it’s because you’ve always had a thing for cats.

You like the differences in their characters, how they can force you to abide to their consent. If a cat doesn’t want you to pet them, they’ll just bite you.

Still, you can’t help but think sometimes that Kenma chose you first.

-

“Hey,” you look up from your Laptop to see him standing in the doorway of your room, hair tied up in a messy bun and the hem of his hoodie going almost past his knees - it must be one of Kuroo’s then.

“Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

“Creating a training regime for the team, why?”

“Can I stay with you? I’ve got some free time and I’m kinda bored.”

“Sure,” you nod, turn back to your screen to let him figure out where he wants to sit. So far that’s always been the best way to go about this, and you’re not that surprised when his knees soon dig into your back as he climbs into the tiny space between your back and the backrest of your chair.

“Comfy?” You ask as his head sinks heavy onto your shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Time passes slowly. You move as slowly as you can, trying not to upset his balance, your heart sloshing in your chest to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Maybe it’s because you’ve always had a thing for cats.

Maybe you’ve just always been dreaming about him. 

“Do you mind spending time with me?” His voice comes out a bit muffled, but the words are clear.

“Never.”

“Why?”

“I like sending time with you.”

“How much?”

You accidentally click a wrong button and the big flashing sign asking if you really want to delete the document is screaming the truth in your face.

Kenma’s breathe ghosts ove your neck and you know, you just know, that he’s seen it all. Nothing ever goes unnoticed by him, not even your own feelings.

“A lot.”

“More than Kuroo.”

“Hm.”

“More than Akaashi?”

“Akaashi’s my cousin.”

“Still.”

You sigh. 

“Don’t tell him,” you ask, “but yeah.”

Kenma’s quiet for a while.

“More than Bokuto?” He finally asks, his voice tiny now.

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than a sigh, an admission of things you’ve probably always known, but never dared to be real.

And maybe you’re imagining it - though you doubt it, with how hotwired your senses are right now - but it almost feels like Kenma’s lips are moving against the back of your neck, pressing the tiniest of kisses against warm skin.

Some cats are vocal. Others show their love in a different way.

-

“How’d you get him to agree?” Hinata asks, breathless with excitement.

People stop and stare. Even without the flaming orange hair he’s breathtaking, his smile a second sun.

You’ve long grown immune to it, looking for a different sunshine in the crowd.

“That’s a secret,” you tell him off, messing up his hair like the big sister/Senpai you are to him. “Not telling.”

“I’ll just ask Kuroo for it.”

“Good luck, he wants to know too,” you pull back when you spot him, knowing full well that next to him-

“Hey,” you can barely hide the smile that’s always overtaking you at his sight.

“Hey,” Kenma sounds way less enthused, shuffling into your side. If you’d try to read his mind he’d probably be thinking “Too hot, too loud, too many people” in cycles, so you take his hand and squeeze it, a little surprised when he squeezes back.

“You owe me for this,” he reminds you before he has to leave again, playing as a setter for Hinata’s team in a charity Beach-Volleyball event.

And you do.

-

“Thank you,” you mutter into his sunkissed skin later that day, his body stretched out alongside yours, too tired to move, too tired to care, too tired to do anything other than press into you.

“We didn’t even win,” he grumbles back, never too tired to point out the obvious.

“Still,” you curl a lock of his hair around your finger, press a kiss against the underside of his chin, “I like watching you.”

“Stalker.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t pose for me,” you tease him, giggling when he squirms.

-

Kenma’s like a cat.

It’s the quiet affections that please him and the lack of attention that spurs him on.

If anyone would ask you if you feel guilty for using that against him, you’d have to say no.

After all, he knows your weaknesses just as well. And he’s not afraid of using them against you too.

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: I was gonna request a cute little Kimi Räikkönen one-shot (Any gender is fine!) in which they're both drivers (Team doesn't matter for me, go wild!) in 2007 and after Kimi wins his first WDC they go to Finland for a holiday he promised MC that he'd take them to if he wins. During the holiday he finally gathers enough confidence to confess his love to them! ( @anicega )

Word Count: 820 words

(author's note: i hope you enjoy my loves !! thank you for all the support on my other f1 fics 🫶)

Throughout his years at Ferrari, Kimi Raikkonen had made many friends and curated a large collection of achievements and memories. But, his favourite was undoubtedly his friendship with Y/N.

Y/N L/N was the other Ferrari driver who was just as successful as Kimi. Their friendship blossomed as they spent more and more time together. However, one thing that came up all the time was a promise that Kimi made when he discovered Y/N would become his teammate.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Finland. I’m jealous that you’ve gotten to experience it,” Y/N said to Kimi.

The pair sat in the Ferrari garage, waiting for their instructions on how to pose for Y/N’s announcement photos. They had been talking and introducing themselves, which eventually led to them discussing their home countries.

“Tell you what, when I win a World Championship I’ll take you to Finland. So we can celebrate.”

“Really? You’re the best Kimi! I can’t wait to be your teammate.”

That was where their friendship began.

Now, many years later, they were inseparable. Wherever Kimi went Y/N followed and vice versa. The pair knew everything about each other from their favourite colours to their favourite childhood TV show. So naturally, when Kimi became World Champion in 2007, no one was more proud of him than Y/N.

Kimi was true to his word though and as soon as he could, the flights to his home country were booked. Y/N stood in the airport, a huge smile adorning her face the whole time she was there. Kimi could practically feel the excitement radiating off her.

The flight was short and before they knew it, they were leaving the plane and Y/N was getting her first sight of Finland.

“Thank you again for doing this Kimi, it really is a dream come true.”

“I’m a man of my word.”

For Y/N, the next couple of days were bliss. She spent them exploring with Kimi and finding out new things about the country she had longed to visit. However, for Kimi, they were torture. Having to spend so much time around Y/N alone meant he realised his feelings for her weren't completely platonic.

Seeing her smiling and laughing in his hometown sparked something in him and Kimi knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back his feelings for much longer.

Y/N had woken up early that morning to watch the sunrise. She had always found comfort in watching the sun come up from behind the early morning mist, giving her time to relax her mind and body for a little longer.

She sat cross-legged in front of the big bedroom windows, her eyes transfixed on the orange hues of the dawn sky. Her face was illuminated by the warm glow of the sun as it gently rose. Kimi stirred from his sleep as the light shone on his face too. He sat up slowly in the bed and stared ahead of him, except his eyes weren’t on the sunrise. Instead, he found himself staring at Y/N, unable to pull his eyes away from her.

“You know, you’ve always reminded me of the sunrise,” Kimi stated, breaking the silence.

Y/N jumped and turned around, “I didn’t even realise you were awake she said with a smile.”

As Y/N turned around, the light behind her enveloped her body, glimmering like a halo and Kimi swore he fell in love right then and there.

“You look beautiful.”

“Really?”

“You always do. I’ve always thought you were beautiful.”

Y/N’s face flushed red and Kimi smiled at her reaction.

“Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you and I don’t know how else to say it apart from that I’m in love with you. Since we met on your first day at Ferrari I’ve known that I would fall in love with you.”

“Kimi- I- I love you too.”

They stared at each other from across the room, both unsure of what to do or say. Kimi gestured for Y/N to come and sit with him and she followed his instruction. When she sat down, Kimi brushed her hair behind her ear and cupped her face with his hand.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding as she leaned in to place a kiss on Kimi’s lips. They moved in sync and Kimi moved his hand to rest on Y/N’s waist.

When they broke apart, Kimi smiled softly at Y/N, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to do that.”

As they sat in content silence, Y/N moved to cuddle into Kimi’s side. Her eyes flicked back over to the window where the sun was nearly at the top of the sky. All she could think about was how glad she was to be in Finland.

[achaoticeternal]

nothing between us

aemond targaryen x reader part two - can’t you see...? ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ word count: 3.6k summary: under the influence of his mother, Aemond has followed the Faith of the Seven closely. The second son of the King is proud to meet a young noble Lady who shares the Faith as closely as he does.  a/n: there will be a part two :)  warnings: AFAB reader, theme of obsession, religious themes and guilt

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“And may the Mother and Father watch over us as we walk in light…” The prayer rolled off your tongue with a finish. With a nod of your head, you finally rose from your spot at the altar.

The High Septon bid a dismissal as the halls of the sept began to clear. Your mother linked arms with you, serving as your guide through the crowd. She kept a warm smile on her face, nodding to both nobles and peasants alike. Though your father was just behind you, not showing the same warmth to the general public as your mother. 

You continued to follow out the doors, the sun shining brilliantly upon the capital. The light bounced off the blue waters, reflecting beautifully onto the shore. It had been either overcast or raining for the past week or so. But a day of sun was something you would truly thank the Mother for later. 

As you continued to be tugged along down the steps of the sept, your arms slipped out of your mother's, instead lifting up your skirt to be more diligent with your steps. In the courtyard below, merchants and spinsters began to announce their wears, bidding anyone who dared to take a look. Usually, they would be selling more exotic things than they would on any other day. 

With a giggle, your steps picked up as you tapped your mother on the shoulder, “We must stop by one of the book stands! I’ve read practically everything I can access in the prince’s and king’s library. A book from afar would be a welcome distraction!”

“You and your books…” Your father chuckled behind you, patting your back, “You’ll have to choose quickly, the Hand is summoning the Small Council to convene once that bell strikes two.”

With a nod, you picked up your steps, hoping to get to the book stand sooner. However, you were stuck behind a group of stragglers who cared to chat far more than they cared to walk. A sigh passed your lips as you continued trying to move around the group and reach your destination soon. You were able to press yourself against the wall in order to squeeze through the small gaps the group of elders made. When bumping past them, you whisper small apologies and pardons.

It isn’t until you are fully around the group of elders offering you small smiles that you are able to take large strides. You take the steps two at a time, hoping to beat the rush of the audience fleeing from the sept this morning. A smile spans across your face as you eye the end of the stairs, close enough that you feel the sparks of gratification stir inside. Accounting for the commoners surrounding you, your steps continue light and quick against the cobblestone. 

Yet what you did not account for was a mother and her two small children toddling next to her. The little girl drops her wood carving of a bear which tumbles down the stairs. As the toddler leans down to grab her belonging, you take a swift sidestep to avoid falling upon her or her mother. And just as quickly as relief passes through you, your foot dips into a small hole in the ground, causing your balance to unfavorably sway. Your hands can cling to nothing to keep you up and so you feel yourself free fall into the courtyard.

You brace yourself for an impact that never comes. Instead, two firm arms have caught you, saving you from any injury of landing so roughly.

“May the Seven bless you! Thank you,” The words spill from your lips as you regain your footing, standing to meet whoever has come to your aid. The breath exits your body as you meet, the violet eye of one Prince Aemond Targaryen. A dark cloak hangs over his shoulders, the hood pulled up most likely to hide his silver blond hair from straying eyes. If not for your somewhat familiarness with the royal family, you might have dismissed him as another stroller in the courtyard. Except you do recall seeing him and the Queen Mother, Alicent Hightower, observing the service in the sept just mere moments ago. The only other indicator to confirm that it is the Prince is the two King’s Guard that has joined his side, their shoulders relaxing when they recognize your noble appearance. 

“My-”

“My lady,” Aemond is quick to cut you off, clearly wishing not to be recognized, “May I ask where you were rushing off so quickly? It seems patience might not be among your virtues.”

Before you can properly answer him, you feel a hand on your shoulder -- your father who bows his head slightly in observance to the prince, “I apologize for my daughter’s clumsiness, ser.”

Aemond’s face remains stoic as he addresses your father, “All is well, my Lord. Perhaps we might thank the Seven that your daughter fell into my arms, rather than injuring herself or others on the abrasive ground.” 

A pause lingers for a moment as your father tries to find his next words. Should he thank the prince? Correct his daughter before the royal before him? Instead, you reply to the prince’s original question.

“There is a book stall that is only in the market once a moon with books from across the sea. I’ve almost read everything in the royal libraries, so I hoped to find a new text to read,” Your tone was polite, and kind when addressing the prince. You almost swore to the Mother that the corners of Aemond’s lips twitched into a smile before his disposition settled once more.

“Enjoy your noon then, I hear the Hand has summoned the small council and tends to busy them later” the Prince spoke with a nod, “my Lord, my Lady.” 

And just like that, the Prince and his guards have almost dissipated among the crowd. They are undoubtedly returning to the Red Keep, yet you wonder why the Prince did not join his mother in the royal carriage. But the thought leaves your mind just as quickly as your parents escort you to the book stand, not wishing for you to cause another scene.

--

The sun has fallen past midday and your father has long left you and your mother to attend the meeting in the Hand’s tower. While your Lord Father attended to work and the realm, you entertained your mother in one of the social dens of the Keep. Your mother was currently perched on a chair by the window, completing some needlework. In the chair opposite to her, there you sat with the religious text of the Faith in your lap. 

This was Sunday tradition, and even if your father could not be in attendance, you would not deny your obligation to thank the Seven for all they do for you, your family, and the realm. Though you knew nearly every passage by heart, your mother insisted you read so as not to be distracted from the outside temptations of the world.

But the book only kept your attention to a certain extent. Your mother was too enamored by her craft to notice when your eyes strayed from the pages and to the people that passed through the Keep. It was mainly guards going about their duties, and servants tending to wherever they must, but even Prince Aemond and Prince Aegon made a pass through. 

Both the Targaryen princes were walking in the direction of the Hand’s Tower. Most likely to participate in the Small Council meeting as a part of their royal duties. After living almost two moons in the castle, you noticed that the elder brother, Aegon, did not share the same satisfaction in performing his tasks as Aemond did. Once you swore that you watched Aemond nearly drag his brother to one of the council meetings, but you would never vocalize such. 

Here they were, the Targaryen princes, strolling through the corridor. Aegon was currently speaking but was too distant to make out what he quite said. You only assumed it to be a joke as he laughed while Aemond seemed less than entertained. But with a slight turn of his head, the younger prince caught sight of you, continuing your readings to your mother. He noted the book in your lap, familiar with it himself due to his time with his own mother, and offered you a nod. 

A moment later, the princes were gone. It was as if you had only imagined it, in fact, you could have convinced yourself the slight interaction had never happened. Except your mother spoke up when she noticed you had fallen silent, “Continue reading, dear.”

-- 

Days passed and with it, routine settled into place. Consistently socializing with the other nobles taking residence within the Keep, attending septa lessons, and continuing your residency in the library. However, a new commonality slithers into your routine. At least once a day, your path would cross with Prince Aemond, just briefly, but always the same gesture. Just a nod. 

You had anticipated today to be no different, spotting the prince earlier in the day. He had been sitting in the gardens with his beloved sister, Princess Helaena, as she cared for her collection of insects. Others would gossip of the princess’s peculiar curiosity, but you thought it endearing, almost divine, in how she cared for even the smallest of the Seven’s creatures. While you took station across the garden, Aemond gently passed back to his sister an arachnid one of the maesters had brought back from the citadel as a token to the princess. Once the creature was safely in Helaena’s palm, Aemond almost instantaneously caught your gaze. 

The impromptu action caused your breath to hitch in your throat. As always, you offered the Prince a nod of your head and a smile as a sign of respect. And as always, Aemond returned the nod. But then the corners of his mouth twitched upward as well, eyes locked on yours. It was the first time you had seen Aemond truly smile. 

Now that smile haunted your memory whilst sitting and attempting to read one of the new books your father recently purchased for you. It was some Braavosi epic that reached astounding popularity, yet now hardly held your attention. The poems bored you more than the Concise History of the Construction of Lemonwood. Taking the pendant of the Maiden between your fingers, you silently prayed to the Gods to rid these thoughts of the prince from your mind. Even as innocent as they were… you did not want temptation to come knocking at your door.

But the Gods speak in rhythm, or at least enjoy seeing mortals grovel, you thought as none other than Prince Aemond entered the library. He wore his usual dark tunic and trousers with a matching waistcoat and belt to cinch it all together. Even outside his training garbs, he reminded you firmly of the Warrior. 

Prince Aemond offered you a curt nod upon his entrance to the library before making his way over to a previously organized stack of books. Most of them were about the histories of Old Valyria with the occasional book on law and reform. It seemed Aemond was consistently studying as if that were his duty to the realm. Though you acknowledged that it was part of what was expected of him. 

Your focus finally returned back to your own novel when the Prince decided to claim your attention once more, “I have not seen that book in this library before.”

“Pardon me, my Prince?” You looked to him curiously, surprised at his observant eye.

“That book,” He gestured to your hand, “The binding is not only fresh but there is not a book in this library with a green cover and red stitching. That red stitching is not of Westeros either.”

You blinked a few times, absorbing this information, “You would be correct, my prince.”

“Then how did you come across such a book, my lady?” 

Swallowing your nerves, you continued the light conversation with the Prince, “My Lord Father bought it for me from a Braavosi merchant.”

“Mmm… if I recall, it was the same day you took that tumble,” He raised his brow.

“Yes, my Prince.” The day I tumbled into your arms.

“And, if my memory serves correctly, you made a sentiment on how you’ve already read through the titles in this library.”

“Yes, my prince.” You agreed once more, “All titles that I was permitted to read.”

“Permitted,” The word lingered on his tongue as if it were a curse, “I see.”

Silence fell over the library. You assumed it to be the end of your conversation with the prince. Minutes passed and you returned to your pages, mulling over the same lines for what felt like eons. That was until the prince called your attention once more.

“Who gives you permission as to what books you read?” There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place, but it stirred something within you.

“That would be my Lord Father,” You answered softly, “my prince.”

Then footsteps thudded across the floor. Aemond moved swiftly from his desk to stand before you instead. From your seat, you gazed up at the tall lean prince. In your current position, he towered over you and a warm hue of orange outlined his head from behind - as if he was carved from the perfected chisel and marble in the hand of the Seven. With ease, he took the epic from your hand and replaced it with a slightly heavier book. 

“At this time every day, I expect you to meet me in the library and read this to me,” Aemond instructed you.

Looking down, you took note of the title: Encounters of the Maiden and the Warrior.

“As you wish, my prince,” You nodded your head, “But I must ask my Lord Father for-”

“I am your prince,” Aemond interrupted, “Are direct orders from your prince not enough for you to do as you are told?”

You did not respond. Words were lost on you, and how could you correct him? He was right, in a sense… wasn’t he?

“Then the matter is settled,” He tilted his head, “Besides, your family mulls over religious texts quite often. This is simply a text to expand such education.”

Without another rise from yourself, you opened the book and began to read it to him. Aemond settled himself in a chair opposite of your own, fingers lightly tapping against the wood of the armrest. His expression gave away little of what he was thinking, so you simply continued.

The activity continued till the end of the moon. At first, you anticipated the meetings would only last till you finished reading the book aloud to him. But it shocked you one day when Aemond would instruct you to skip a few pages or even entire chapters. When you questioned him about this, he simply dismissed them as unnecessary to your divine education. He did not allow you to press the matter further. 

--

One evening, you joined your mother in your parents’ apartments after a visit to the Sept with your mother. Together, you had participated in your weekly prayers to the Mother and Maiden, lighting a candle for each. When you both returned, you recounted the trip to your father who had been too tied to his duties to participate. 

Dinner plans had been arranged for the families of Small Council members to have a private feast with the royal family. Typically, your family would pray in the godswood of the Keep before attending any supper, but tonight your parents thought it best to make an exception. 

Your mother had just finished pinning your hair when a knock fell upon the chamber door. Looking at your father, he answered the guest’s knock. 

There stood Prince Aemond, and his loyal King’s Guard, Ser Criston Cole. It was rare for a royal to come calling at a door. Quickly, you all rose to your feet, paying respects to the prince before you. While your father and mother offered him a nod, you honored the prince with a curtsy. 

“My Prince, why might we have the pleasure of your presence?” your Lord Father asked.

Aemond’s eye drifted over your form. He drank in the sight of you, prepared even if simply for a dinner with the King. His eye then adjusted back to looking your father in the eye.

“I have come to call upon the young Lady,” He stated simply, “I’d like to pray with her in the godswood before supper, under supervision, of course.” The prince gestured to Ser Cole who remained still. 

Warmth filled your cheeks and chest at the thought of being alone with the prince. It wasn’t your first time, of course, but each private moment with him brought over a wave of new emotions. 

Taking a moment to think, your father then nodded his head in agreement, “You have my permission.”

--

Ser Criston was notably trailing quite a few steps behind the prince and you as if he did not want to infringe upon the interaction. A part of your mind wondered if it was by order or out of the guard’s own consideration.

Aemond had led you from your parents’ apartments to just outside the garden wall. Your arm was carefully linked in his own, shoulders brushing against the other with each step. While you walked, you recounted your visit to the sept to the prince. He had not inquired, but you disdained any silence between you both and he did at least act amused. Amused as the prince would allow himself to be, at least. 

“And who gifted you your pendant of the Maiden?” The prince asked.

“My grandmother, before she passed,” you explained to him, “It was hers. A gift from my grandfather upon their betrothal.”

“I see,” He nodded, falling quiet once more. 

Before another word could be uttered, you arrived at the courtyard where the small godswood lay snug. Though you appreciated having a place to properly pray to the Seven nearby, your mind always trailed back to the godswood of your own ancestral home. It was considerably larger than this, or any of the Southern kingdoms. You never commented on the size though, not wanting to offend those who tended to it or sought comfort here. 

As Aemond led you forward, Ser Criston remained in the archway at attention. His eyes focused on the halls, surveying for harm as expected of him. 

Just as you approached the heart tree, Aemond stopped his moments, keeping you tucked into his side. Your eyes turned to his face, scanning his demeanor for a clue of what was in his mind.

Suddenly, he spoke once more, “My mother often comments on the fact that there is not a proper weirwood tree in the Red Keep’s godswood.”

After a pause, you offered him a response, “I believe I understand her sentiment.”

The prince turned toward you with a raised brow, dropping your arm in exchange for taking your hands in his own, “And what is that sentiment, my lady?’

Your eyes flicker over his face, the faintest hint of a smirk playing upon his lips. Tearing your gaze away from his face, you refocused down… down at his large hands which grasped your own. His cool, calloused hands nearly engulfed your own. Such thoughts sent a chill down your spine. The warm feeling returned, but you pushed away your acknowledgment of it. 

Taking a deep breath, you looked to where a weirwood tree might take occupancy in this godswood, “I do not wish to speak in ill opinion of the crown, my prince.”

“I want to hear your thoughts,” His hands squeezed your own, albeit gently, “Speak them.”

With a sigh, you continued as instructed, “Very few Targaryens, much less Targaryen Kings have truly devoted themselves to the Seven. The show of faith is merely a guise to appease the High Septon and common folk. As I’m sure you are well aware, it was always said that Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. Being compared to Gods does not ignite one to take up faith in what one might perceive themself as an equal to. So King’s Landing and many southern kingdoms are sullied with sin.”

Silence hung in the air, but the prince did not weaken his grip upon you. Worry sank in your stomach, wondering if you had spoken too freely for the prince’s liking. His common smirk played at his lips once more, “An observant lady… a very smart girl.”

The small praise made your heart drum against your chest, You could sweat to the Gods that he could feel it in your pulse too as he ducked his head closer to your own.

“My smart girl has been paying attention to our lessons,” His breath was warm against your face. His eye flickered from your own to the pendant resting atop your chest, “Good…”

Slowly, Aemond released one of your hands and raised his own up toward your face. His fingers took hold of the pendant, thumb grazing over the engraving. Then, he brought the pendant closer to his face, the tension of the chain against your neck, causing you to lean closer to him. His eye now held your gaze in a moment of surprising intimacy. Aemond raised the pendant to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it, eye never once leaving your own. 

When he released it, the pendant fell back upon your chest. You released the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. 

“Now that I’ve given you my blessing,” Aemond’s voice was warm, but still caused your skin to prickle, “Get on your knees and pray…”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[cameronspecial]

would you please consider making a 2nd part to The Other Drew maybe them going on reading dates and him bringing her lunch to work, her coming to his games 🥹

The Other Y/N (Part 2)

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Swearing and Stealing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

The screams of the crowd overwhelm the girl and she really wants to leave, but the need to be here for her boyfriend overrides any instinct to run. Her seat is close enough to the court that she can clearly see the sweat dripping off of his face as he plays. No matter how many times Drew tries to explain the rules of basketball to her, she still has no clue what is going on. The blow of a whistle for a foul stops the game and the crowd quiets as Drew gets ready to take the shot. The bouncing ball draws everyone's attention. He takes a second to look in Y/N’s direction and the confidence in her eyes gives him the courage to throw the ball. 

The ball circles the edge of the rim, going round and round before falling through the centre of the hoop. A loud horn sounds to announce the end of the game and the whole court goes crazy with celebration. The rest of the players turn to congratulate him, but his attention is fully on her. He runs into the stands and once he reaches her, he picks her up in his arms. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Darling. You are my lucky charm,” he announces, spinning them around in a laugh. She gives him a massive grin and brings their lips together. He finally puts her down and with her encouragement, he goes to celebrate with his teammates. 

———

After a night out celebrating with his team and an early morning celebrating together without clothes on, Y/N has to wake up early to head to work. A naked Drew groans, rolling over to watch her put some clothes on. He doesn’t comment on the fact that she is putting on one of his sweatpants and t-shirts; his closet is practically hers now anyway. “Why are you up? Come back to bed, Darling,” he groans, reaching an arm out to tug her closer to his bed. She gives a little giggle as he pulls her onto the bed and wraps a leg around her waist so she can’t escape. She tries to wiggle out of his grasp, “Baby, you know I have to go to work. Now, please let me go. I promise I will be back in your bed before you know it.” He gives a little sigh in defeat. “Fine, I’ll let you go. But I want you to pick out the next book we read together. We are done with The Midnight Library and it’s your turn to pick.” She nods, “Okay, I will. Anything in specific we are in the mood for?” 

“Hmmm, maybe a Greek mythology retelling. The one I’m reading in my Mythology literature course is boring as fuck.”

“Sounds good. I’ll try to see if I can find something more interesting.” 

———

Y/N is helping a little girl choose a book when Drew walks into the store. “How about this one? It’s about a princess with magical powers?” she suggests, holding up a book with a princess on the cover. A grin spreads across the girl’s face. She grabs the book with thanks and runs off to her mom. Y/N smiles, heading back to the front desk to see her boyfriend waiting for her with a paper bag. 

“Hey Baby, what are you doing here?” she asks. She leans over the counter to give him a quick kiss on the lips. He holds up the back so she can read the logo, “Brought us some food to share, Darling. When can you take your break?” She looks towards the clock and does a little math in her head. “Aww, thank you. Bianca is coming back from her breaking in five so we can head to the back then,” she determines, starting to get back to work with scanning the new inventory. He nods at her statement and goes to look around the store. When Bianca returns, Y/N takes Drew to the employee break room. 

The store isn’t very big, so the break room is really just the stock room with lockers, a fridge, a microwave, and a small table pushed into a corner. As soon as they sit down at the table, Drew is sure to pull her chair close to his so he can wrap his arm around her waist. She takes out their burgers and rips the bag open to have easy access to the large fries inside. They begin to eat in a comfortable silence. “Have you found a book to read yet?” he breaks the silence. She finishes chewing her food before answering, “Yeah, I was thinking of Circe by Madeline Miller. I’ve seen some pretty good stuff about it on Instagram and I liked the Song of Achilles.” 

“I’ve actually been thinking about picking that up myself. Some girl in my class was talking about it the other day. Good choice, Darling. Do you guys have it in stock  or do you need me to pick it up before tonight?” 

“No, we have it so I can get it once my shift is over. What are your plans for the rest of the day?” 

“Austin and I are going to watch a movie, so if I don’t respond to your text that’s probably why.

“What movie are you watching?”

“Not sure. We are going to choose at the theatre. What time are you off? Should I pick you up?”

“I’m done at four, but Bianca can give me a ride. I’ll just meet you at your house. I’m sorry, Baby. We gotta wrap it up. My break is almost over.”

———

The frat is filled with rowdy boys all having a laugh when Y/N comes back after work. She greets most of the boys, yet she doesn’t stop to talk to any of them because she knows where the one person she wants to talk to is. Like always, the back deck is decorated with fairy lights and a red and white checkered blanket is laid out on the floor. Pillows and charcuterie boards litter the blanket. Drew stops rearranging a board at the sound of the sliding door opening. 

“Hi Darling, how was work?” he welcomes, settling himself on a pillow so she can lie down on him. She rests her head on his stomach, “It was fine. Nothing special happened. Having you come for lunch was the highlight of my day.” He smiles at her words. “It was the highlight of my day too, Darling. I love you,” he moves the hair away from her temple and gives her a kiss. She takes out the book from her tote, “I love you too. Can you read first, please? I miss the sound of your voice.” His smile turns into a grin and he takes the book from her hands. Her head turns on his stomach, so she can look at his face and her ear is pressed against him. He starts to read from the book. They take turns reading and feeding whoever is reading until both of their eyes feel droopy. They call it a night, packing everything up before heading up to his room. 

———

Drew never thought his girlfriend would be by his side right now. It is the night before his game against his big rival team and they find themselves sneaking into the team’s storage closet. “I can’t believe you are doing this with me,” he whispers while picking the lock. Her mouth finds the shell of his ear, “I can’t let you do this by yourself. Plus, their cheerleaders were jerks to me last time you had a game with them.” 

“How come you didn’t tell me? I would’ve had a word with them.”

“It’s okay. I saw the head cheerleader fall on her face when you were in the changing room. It was funny. Now, hurry up before we get caught.”

He finishes with the lock and she runs inside to get the mascot costume. “Hey, you aren’t supposed to be here!” a voice yells from behind them. They turn to see a security guard running their way and he takes her hand into his. They start running toward the exit. When they get to the outdoors, they look for places to hide and come up empty. The only thing Drew can think to do is something he saw in a movie. He gently spins her against the wall and places his hand above her head. His finger lifts her chin up. His lips capture hers and they start making out. The security guard quickly shines his flashlight in their face before moving on to look in another direction. 

The giggles they let out when he leaves probably give them away, but they don’t care. They run to his car while laughing like maniacs. “I can’t believe we got away with this,” she awes, looking at the mascot suit in the backseat. He gives her a quick kiss, “I still can’t believe you did this. It’s like you are a completely other Y/N.” 

“What can I say? I have multiple sides to my personality.” 

[nataliesfirefly]

chapter 3 - the truce

a/n: omg i am so sorry for not uploading sooner!!! may was so chaotic with finals and everything. i sincerely apologize for taking so long to write this chapter! i dont know if anyone still cares about this series or wants to read it, but im still going to post this just in case some of you still enjoy it :)) love yall so much and again i apologize for the wait 🤍🤍

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 4k

series masterlist

You make your way to English class hastily, the cold wind almost slicing through your skin and bones. November weather in London has always been cruel, but you can’t remember the last time it was this freezing. You look down at your shoes as you walk, trying to save your face from the harsh, burning gusts. If it’s going to be in the negative temperatures, some snow would be nice.

You eventually reach the classroom and swing open the door, shuffling inside. You sigh with dread, knowing today is the day you’re going to be assigned your partner for the essay. You’d much rather be cozied up in your dorm room with a mug of hot tea, listening to your favorite classical music pieces while reading a non-assigned book.

“Good morning,” Mrs. Chasteen greets you as you walk to your seat. “Are you quite alright?” You pause at her words and raise an eyebrow. “Yes, miss. Why do you ask?” You reply, confused. “Oh. No reason,” She waves a hand dismissively and you decide not to question it as you venture to your seat.

You sit next to Magdalena, a new accquaintance you’ve made in this class. “Is something off about me? Like, my face?” You ask her as you set your things down. “Your cheeks are just very rosy. And your nose,” She giggles and covers her mouth, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh. It’s just the cold,” You sigh. This was a common occurrence for you.

“Didn’t know Rudolph was in our class,” Someone mutters as they pass by. You glance up and see Farleigh glancing back at you with a smirk. You roll your eyes and groan. “He’s funny,” Magdalena remarks.

You turn to her. “Excuse me?” It comes out harsher than you expected it to, and her eyes widen. “Sorry. I mean… he’s… annoying..?” She says it almost like a question while trying to bite back a grin, but you can see it clearly. “Just because you hate him doesn’t mean I have to,” She points a finger at you. You nod. “Fair point. Sorry, Lena.” You pat her shoulder and she smiles. “No worries.”

“Alright, is everyone settled?” Mrs. Chasteen’s voice drags your attention back to the front of the room. A few quiet agreements echo throughout the room, meaning it’s unfortunately time to start the lesson.

Towards the end of class, Mrs. Chasteen stands up to announce something.

“So, with our first term coming to an end soon, it’s time for you to begin your essays. I’m expecting university level quality, and some very thought-provoking writing. I know you all can do it, just put your minds to it, and trust yourselves. Now, just because I’m giving you a partner does not mean you can slack off. You must do your equal parts of work,” She warns, already knowing the work ethics of some of the people in this class.

“I chose each of your partners for a reason. I think I know you all well enough by now, and I believe you are going to work well with whoever I paired you with.” She explains. You glance over at Magdalena with a smile and raised eyebrows. Mrs. Chasteen likes you, you think, so perhaps she paired you with Lena, since it’s obvious you two have become close.

“Alright.” She walks to her desk and grabs a piece of paper with the pairs written down. “Fiona and Oscar,” She calls out. You hear some mutters and hums and shuffling of your classmates. “Mason and Henry,” She says.

She continues calling out names, and you think you’re going to die from the anticipation. It seems like she’s saving your name for last on purpose. She hasn’t called Lena yet, though, so perhaps there is still hope.

“Magdalena and…” She pauses and squints at the paper. You tightly cross your fingers under the desk. “Olivia.” You turn to Lena quickly. She looks at you with a confused expression and shrugs. Mrs. Chasteen hates you, probably.

Suddenly you hear your name and your attention peaks. You whip back around to face the front, watching your teacher closely. “...and Farleigh.”

You swear your heart drops to your stomach. Your eyes widen and you blink, desperately trying to wake yourself up as if this is only a bad dream. In fact, now that you think of it, you genuinely believe you’ve had a nightmare about this before. Having to work with Farleigh on a project. A project that is basically worth your entire grade this term. Magdalena gasps quietly and then giggles, nudging you. “Oh my God,” She whispers. Of course she finds this funny.

“And that’s all. The essay is due December 15th, I will give you the prompts tomorrow. You are dismissed.” You immediately shoot up from your seat, seemingly at the same time as Farleigh, speedily walking up to Mrs. Chasteen’s desk, trying to beat him there. But it’s no use, as you both arrive there at the same time.

“Miss, is there any way I could switch partners?” You quickly blurt out before he can get a chance to talk, while still trying to remain polite. She looks at you with a surprised expression.

“I can’t do this essay with him.” You glance over at Farleigh who looks offended. “I can’t do this essay with her!” He exclaims. “Alright, alright, you two. Calm down. Why don’t you both have a seat?” She nods towards the two chairs positioned in front of her desk.

You exchange glances before obeying and sitting down. She sits down in her own chair across from the two of you, adjusting her glasses and leaning forward.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I had paired you two together for a reason?” She quirks an eyebrow and you have to resist the temptation to roll your eyes.

“I have noticed that there seems to be some sort of… rivalry or.. tension between you. However, I believe you two can work together and write something beautiful, once you put your feelings aside. If you both desire to go to Oxford, this is a skill you must learn. You must be agreeable, and able to adapt to new situations and people. Even if you do not prefer their company.” Mrs. Chasteen explains matter-of-factly.

“I’m not doing this because I dislike you. I’m doing it because you are two of my favorite students.” She winks and stands up. You’ve won, but at what cost? You and Farleigh stand shortly after, following suit. “Now, I think you’d ought to get to your next classes.”

“This absolutely sucks,” He groans as you both trudge across the courtyard, as you have both done everyday since the first day of school when he offered you his umbrella. It’s like a tradition, although he’s not the preferred person you’d like to be walking with right now.

“Yeah, you think?!” You exclaim furiously, raising your voice over the wind. “Did she say we’re going to have to meet outside of class?” He asks, and you turn to glance up at him. “What? Oh my God, that’s even worse!” You slap a hand to your forehead and shake your head.

“I’m not meeting you anywhere,” You tell Farleigh. He stops in his tracks. “It’s not up to us. We have to if we want to get this done. It’s half of our-”

“Yes, I know. Half of our grade. At this point, I’d rather take the zero!” You throw your hands up as you both reach the door to the west wing. He rolls his eyes and holds the door open for you. You angrily bustle past him to escape the freezing cold air.

“Are you serious? It’s really not a big deal. We can get along for the sake of an essay.” The door closes behind you two, leaving both of you alone in the long hallway. You turn around to face him.

“Fine. But we both get equal input for the essay. I know how you are when it comes to group projects,” You narrow your eyes at him and fold your arms, remembering that chaotic astronomy project you had to work on with Farleigh and some other irrelevant people during your tenth year. He was a total control freak and didn’t let you do anything, because he feared you would ‘mess it up.’

“Okay, okay. Deal.” He nods and holds out his hand like it’s some kind of business agreement. Or maybe more like a truce. For now. You reluctantly take his hand and shake it gently. You can’t help but notice how small your hand is compared to his own.

“See you later.” You spin on your heel and head up the stairs quickly to get to biology. Hopefully this whole ordeal doesn’t cause you to be late.

The next day in class, Mrs. Chasteen assigns each group their prompt. Unfortunately, you now have to sit next to Farleigh. You’ll certainly miss Magdalena’s peaceful company and her ability to not make snarky comments every five seconds.

“Right, so our prompt is…” You drag the slip of paper closer to you to read the words printed. “Discuss revenge in the novel. In what ways is it connected to love? What is the nature of love in the novel, that it can be so closely connected to vengeance?” You read aloud.

“Easy.” Farleigh sighs and leans back in his chair nonchalantly. “Well, then perhaps you would like to enlighten me with some of your ideas?” You turn to him expectantly. “Are you doubting my knowledge?” He asks, clutching a hand to his chest as if to appear offended. “No. Just curious.” You shrug and smile mischeviously, but you know exactly what you’re doing.

“Heathcliff’s unrequited love for Catherine drives his desire for revenge. Their love is self-destructive and all-consuming which leads to Heathcliff’s strong emotions and actions.” He replies. You sit there in silence for a moment, realizing he actually knew what was going on in the novel. You had assumed he had just skimmed through it and Googled a summary.

“Exactly what I was thinking,” You mutter, nodding slowly in agreement. “Great. Sounds like we won’t have any trouble with this essay,” He smiles and pats you on the shoulder firmly. You almost instantly recoil, shifting in your chair and glaring at him. What is it with him and touching you?

“So, when should we meet up to work on it?” You ask. “How about tonight at seven? The library?” Farleigh suggests. “I won’t steal your spot this time,” He says teasingly. “Shut up.” You snap.

“Why did you care so much about that anyway?” He questions. “I’m just…” You trail off, your face reddening. “Superstitious?” He raises his eyebrows and you sigh. “I guess you could say that.” You shrug and look back down at the table.

“Should we get each other’s numbers?” He suddenly asks. Your eyes dart up to his. “What?” You can already feel your face getting hot again, and you don’t even know why. The idea of Farleigh having your number is… frightening. But why are you blushing at the thought of it? And why does he want your number? Could he possibly…

“For the project.” Your expression probably gave too much away, so he had to clarify. “Oh. Right. Yeah, definitely.” You nod a bit aggressively as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you. Your hands tremble as you take his phone and type in your number. You hand it back to him and pray he didn’t notice your strange behavior. “Thanks,” He mutters.

“You know that Clara girl?” He says. “Yeah, what about her?” Your curiosity peaks as you glance over at him. “She’s been talking to me a lot. Like, she’s barely spoken a sentence to me in the past five years we’ve been at this school. And now she won’t leave me alone,” He says it with that tinge of pride in his voice.

“Okay?” You gesture vaguely. “Well, your friends with her, right?” He lowers his voice and checks around him to make sure no one is eavesdropping. “Yeah…?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Does she ever… you know, talk about me?” He asks. You almost laugh but you stop yourself. “No, she doesn’t.” You bite back a feisty remark. “You are seriously no help whatsoever.” He shakes his head and pinches the space between his eyes.

“Just because a girl starts talking to you more than she usually does, does not mean she likes you.” You tell him, only realizing how untrue that sentence is after you’ve said it. “You just have a huge ego,” You recover quickly after your moment of silence.

“I do not. If anyone does it’s you.” He replies a little too quickly. It goes quiet all of a sudden and you awkwardly look away and out the window. He clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” You quietly respond. Sooner or later class is over and you’re free from that awkward moment.

Later that night you arrive at the library, a few minutes after seven. You walk in and head over to where Farleigh is sitting, conveniently next to your usual spot. You smile at the thought of him remembering where it was and remembering not to take it.

But then you notice there’s someone standing at the side of the table, leaning against the table with their long legs crossed, twirling their lengthy blonde hair. Clara.

You awkwardly walk over and stand there next to Clara, waiting for her to turn and notice you.

“You’re funny,” She giggles right as Farleigh glances up and sees you. She turns, following his line of eyesight and eventually meeting your gaze. “Oh, hello!” She grins brightly. Why is she always so… sociable?

“Hi, Clara.” You step aside, going around her to your side of the table and sitting down. She seems confused. “Oh, are you two-”

“We’re just meeting up for a project,” Farleigh explains. “Oh. The essay for English, right?” To your surprise, she sits on the table, perfectly comfortable. Is Farleigh blushing?

“Yep,” You nod with a sigh, hoping that she’ll take the hint. “That book was honestly so boring. I couldn’t even tell you what it’s actually about.” She laughs like it’s funny. And the worst part is, Farleigh is chuckling along with her.

“We should probably get to work…” You mutter. You make eye contact with Clara and something in her gaze is threatening. But then, the switch flips and she nods, sliding off the table. “Alright. I’ll leave you to it! Have a good night, you two.” She smiles and walks away, and you swear she purposely walks with a swing in her hips.

Farleigh is just staring after her like an idiot. You nudge him harshly. “Farleigh,” You hiss. He startles out of his trance and turns to you. “Ow. What?!” He rubs his arm sarcastically and you roll your eyes.

“See, I think she likes me. You were lying to me.” He whispers. “I didn’t lie to you. I just–” You cut yourself off before you say something embarrassing.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get started on this,” He says, and you both reach down into your bags for your laptops and book copies.

“I’ve never written an essay with someone before.” You mutter. You’re curious as to how this will work; perhaps you both take turns writing paragraphs, or take turns revising and editing. “I can do the introduction. I’m pretty good at those,” Farleigh offers.

“I mean… you could, I guess.” You don’t sound so certain. Introduction paragraphs are your specialty, and if he writes it, you know it wouldn’t be as good as yours. He looks at you with confusion. “What do you mean ‘I guess’?” His thick eyebrows furrow.

“Nothing, it’s only that… well, I’d rather write the introduction.” You explain sheepishly. “What, you think I can’t do it?” He questions. He crosses his arms defensively.

“I never said that. I just think that you should let me do it.” You reply. You can already feel yourself becoming annoyed by him. “Why should I?” He shoots back. “Because– Because..” You can’t think of a good reason. Shit.

“Because?”

Silence.

“Let’s write it together, then.” Ah, yes. A compromise. Something you hate. Of course he would be the one to suggest that.

“Fine.” You huff and fall back into your chair. “We’ll just write it on mine, it will be easier that way.” He moves his laptop in front of him and begins to type. You sit up quickly and squint to see what he’s typing.

Seems good so far. Until–

“Wait. Maybe we should use a different word right there,” You suggest, but it’s not really a suggestion at all. More like an order.

“What’s wrong with intense?” He asks combatively, not bothering to look at you. “I think impassioned would be better. Or passionate, even.” You reply. He lets out a sigh full of exasperation. “You’re so stubborn,” He mutters while shaking his head.

“And you’re such a dick,” Your voice raises a bit too high, gaining a few turned heads and curious glances. “Jesus, okay. I’ll change it.” He whispers, replacing the word with your recommendation.

Your next hour spent in the library consists of hushed arguments and whisper-yelling over who should write what and who comes up with the better phrasing. You knew this couldn’t possibly work out. You’re both too stubborn and aggressive to work together.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulders and push in your chair a bit violently. Farleigh really pissed you off tonight.

“Goodnight…” He watches you with wide eyes. “Night,” You respond shortly as you hurriedly walk to the front doors.

Later that night, you’re sitting at your desk listening to music while doing some homework for your history class. Your phone dings with a notification.

You curiously flip over your phone, peering down at the screen. Unknown number.

“Hey, it’s Farleigh. Should we meet tomorrow evening, same time at my dorm?”

Oh. He hasn’t texted you since you gave him your number, so you haven’t had the chance to save his number. But why at his dorm?

You unlock your phone and begin typing out a response.

“Okay.”

No, too harsh. You hit the backspace button a few times and try again.

“Sure!”

Too energetic. You groan and delete the word once again. Why are you overthinking this so much? It’s just Farleigh.

“Sounds good.” You settle on that and press the send button. Maybe he doesn’t want to meet at the library anymore because of all the strange looks you both received last time.

You check the time on your phone lockscreen. Seven PM sharp. You take a deep breath and knock on Farleigh’s door, preparing yourself for some more bickering.

The door opens with a slight creaking sound. “Hey,” Farleigh says quietly. The awkwardness sets in and it takes you a moment to come up with a response.

“Hi.” You stand there, waiting for him to step aside to let you in. He stares down at you for a few seconds, but for some reason, it feels like a whole minute.

He opens the door further and makes room for you to enter. You take a few small steps inside and he closes the door behind you. You glance around, taking all the details in. All the dorms here have the same layout, but everyone is free to personalize and decorate however they would like to, within reason.

You would expect the asshole to be sporting a bunch of medals and trophies, but it’s quite the opposite. There’s a few movie posters and postcards (you’re assuming from America) hung neatly on the walls, a small bookshelf with various novels and notebooks, a work desk similar to your own with sheets of paper splayed out and pens scattered about in typical Farleigh fashion, a closet, and a nice potted plant on the windowsill.

“Not bad,” You comment with a teasing smile. “What did you expect?” He laughs softly and rests his hands in his pockets, watching you survey the room. “I thought it would be more messy,” You grin.

“It usually is,” He replies, and then his smile quickly fades as if he just registered what he said. “So you cleaned up just for me? Awww.” You press a hand to your chest and pout your lips in mock flattery. He stutters. “No, I..” Is he getting nervous right now?

You clear your throat. “Anyways. Let’s get to work.” You clap your hands twice for dramatic effect, sitting down on the floor with your legs criss-crossed. Farleigh grabs his laptop and joins you, placing it in between you.

“Sorry about yesterday.” He murmurs so softly you can barely hear it. “Hm?” You decide to be cheeky. If he’s going to apologize, you want to hear it louder than that. “I said sorry. About yesterday. I was being… annoying.” He says it a bit louder this time.

“Annoying is one word for it,” You bite your lip shortly afterwards. You shouldn’t have said that. If you want to get this essay done, you’re going to have to try to get along with him. “I forgive you.” For you, those three words are the hardest words to say. You let out a breath.

“You were being an asshole too, though.” He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at you. “I- Yeah. I was. Sorry.” Your face reddens and you rub the back of your neck. Why is it suddenly so warm in this room?

“I really think we can do this.” Farleigh’s gaze burns into yours and it’s so hard not to look away. His usual cold and dark stare is replaced by something warmer, kinder. “Me too,” You agree, but your voice comes out sounding a bit odd. You cough slightly. “Sorry.”

“I’ve written down some ideas for the format. Like, what we should write about in each paragraph.” He explains, standing up to grab a notebook from his desk. Wow. Maybe he’s actually going to be useful.

This evening was far more productive than the one before. You two managed to get most of the second paragraph done. And against all odds, there was only one small argument. You were even able to laugh together. There’s still some tension floating around the room, and you’re not sure why it’s there. Not even the usual tension between you two, more like…

Farleigh stands up. “I’d say that was pretty productive.” He stretches and yawns before offering you his hand. You freeze and just stare at it until you realize he’s just trying to help you up. God, why do you keep assuming the wrong things? You reach up for his hand and he pulls you up with a little too much strength, causing you to kind of fall into him. He steadies you with his hands on your waist before quickly removing them as if he’s just touched a hot stove.

“Sorry,” You both blurt out. “It’s okay.” You say casually, although you’re trying to pretend your legs don’t feel like jelly right now.

“So… I guess I’ll see you Monday, then. Unless you want to work on this over the weekend.” He says. You shake your head. “I think since we started early, we’re already pretty far ahead. Let’s just plan for Monday.” He nods at your words and you smile.

“Goodnight, Farleigh,” You head for the door and you can see a slight hesitation in his eyes, like he wants to say something more. But he doesn’t. “Goodnight.”

And with that, you’re headed back to your own dorm, already feeling the effects of exhaustion setting in.

[ilydeku]

under the weather | izuku x reader

The rain pattered against the windows of the run down, yet homely library. It followed a slow rhythm of a heavy downpour to soft sprinkles, fortissimo, pianissimo. It's as if it was taunting you for being unaware of its coming. From the morning you woke up, the sky was clear of any aggressions. But now that you were occupied in a book at the library, in the afternoon, of course, the dark clouds had to poke their heads out. The chances of precipitation were pretty low, according to your weather application, and highly unexpected. So where was this coming from?

The leaves fluttered and flicked as raindrops fell onto them. The branches wavered along, swaying as the cold winds sifted through. They shivered. Even the trees weren't expecting gloomy weather. You sighed, turning back to the words in your book. The thought of how you would get home pondered in mind. After all, you didn't even have an umbrella at hand. You sighed once, more irritation shown than the last. An unfortunate predicament you were in. But at least the ambiance was relaxing. Alone in a quiet library, reading a book on a cushioned chair right next to a full window, an expansive view of the outside world.

All you needed now was a nice hot cup of tea as the cherry on top.

You decided to wait out the rain, but there was never once in a moment where the rain ceased to fall. The rain drummed on the roof, more violently than it did throughout the earlier hours. They splattered against the windows as blood from a massacre. Soon enough, the library announced its 5-minute mark for closing at around 4:53 and you took this as an opportunity to check the lost and found for any umbrellas. And to your surprise, there wasn't a single one. All that there was available was a sad dented flask bottle and two large coats. Although a coat could harbor cover overhead, there was no way you were going to use somebody’s soiled clothing. You settled with using your own sweater, though it wasn’t water-resistant, it’d just have to do. You stood at the entrance of the library, watching the ripples flow through the streams of puddles on the street.

“Have a good day,” the librarian chimed, as if it wasn’t pouring right in front of her eyes, not moving an inch from her book. ‘A nice day, huh.’ As soon as you pushed open the double glass doors, you were immediately hit by the piercing winds of the storm and it was even more brutal as you unzipped your jacket. You took a deep breath before holding your jacket over your head, stepping out into the pouring rain, and immediately felt your sweater become drenched. Can’t back out now. You continued down the sidewalk, enduring the wander back to the comfort of your home, raindrops relentlessly following after you.

Soaked, cold, and numbing. Goosebumps formed all over your arm, hairs standing tall in response to the frigid air. Your socks were immersed and your shoes squished with water with each expeditious step. Your shirt and jeans stuck to your body uncomfortably. You tried peeling them off but they always came back to sticking to your skin. How you wished to be home, watching the rain through a window with a hot cup of tea in hand. How you irritably wished your weather app didn’t scam you out of a bright and sunny day.

In the distance, a vehicle quickly came heading down your way, sending gusts of water through the air. You frowned. You were already deluged enough and you weren’t in the mood to be doused in dirty puddle water. But, it’s not like you could shield yourself from it, not with a dripping-wet sweater. As the vehicle neared closer, you shut your eyes tightly and turned to the side a bit in preparedness for the impact. The sounds of water splashing through the air followed by the grumbling of the vehicle engine passed, but to your surprise, you didn’t feel anything. In fact, you didn’t feel the raindrops at all??

You looked up and caught glimpse of these black tendrils of fortifying matter completely covering you overhead. You turned and were faced with the back of a strengthy guy in a thick green jacket.

"Are you okay?" The guy asked, his voice low, but reassuring. You didn't say anything, as you were still processing the event that just took place. Just who is this guy? Where did he come from? Your heart raced with anxiousness.

After no response, he turned back to look at you and his eyes widened in disbelief. "Ah!" His eyes scanned you up and down at your soakened state. "You're going to get sick if you're out walking like this!" He quickly slid off his jacket, swinging it around your back and wrapping it around your shoulders, leaving him in his shirt that comically read "t-shirt". You could feel the warmth radiating from his body as he leaned toward you. As cold and helpless as you were feeling, you longed to just collapse in his arms and let him carry you wherever he pleased. The exhuast caught up with you as you shivered in his jacket. You cursed at yourself. You must've looked pretty stupid and vulnerable to be walking in the rain like that. What idiot wouldn't of just stayed inside the shelter of the library.

"...I'm sorry..." you breathed, struggling to lift up your head to face him, due to the embarrassment of being cared for like this or the fatigue, maybe even a bit of both. Your sweater dripped from your hands into the sidewalk beneath.

“Don’t be…” the boy replied, smoothing down his jacket over your arms. He peered down the road for a moment to think about what to say next. It was unusual for a girl to be walking alone in the rain like this, less yet without an umbrella, soaking wet. “…so where are you headed?”

“Home,” you replied almost too quickly. The want to just collapse in your bed and sleep the rest of the day was inflaming.

“That’s…” He looked down the road once more and up at the sky. It was clouded with dark grey nimbostratus and rainfall was still present. “That’s pretty far.”

Dizziness began to envelop your head and suddenly, you really did feel like you were going to collapse, but your strong will to get home kept your consciousness alive. Your body wavered and muscles ached. The boy noticed as you unnaturally swayed a bit and offered you a carry to your home.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine. I’m almost home anyway,” you replied, clutching his jacket and handing it back to him. There was a moment where you both held onto the jacket together as he gazed at you in worry and regard. And you, as well, gazed at him with gratitude and fulfillment.

“Are you sure? I mean, you could stay at my place if-”

“No, no, it’s f-” You caught yourself from falling over, as you felt fairly unsteady. Perspiration also began to form all over yourself, despite the fact that you were still wet from the rain. “It’s fine, tha-thank you…” He stared at you in dismay. Clearly, you weren’t feeling okay as of now, and you definitely weren’t going to make it home in this state.

“Please…for your sake, miss, please come stay at my apartment, just until tomorrow-”

“No!… I can’t I…” At his point, you struggled to even stand up on your own, fading in and out of consciousness. Your steps were uncoordinated as you tried to walk away from the boy. He grabbed your hand to stop you from stepping out from under the protective tendrils and you turned around, mixed feelings of wanting to come with him and wanting to get away. You know you said that you’d paste the responsibility of yourself onto him, but now that it came down to it, this was a complete stranger. “I don’t even know you! I…” Your eyes fluttered shut as your body gave out and abruptly fell into his arms. Your skin was burning hot compared to his. He pushed the crown of your hair back, tucked your strands of wet hair behind your ears, and gently rested the back of his hand against your forehead.

You had a raging fever.

Without hesitation, he pushed off into the air with you cradled in his arms, the main objective of getting you somewhere, probably his apartment, warm and dry and away from the horrible cold of the storm.

.

The stirring sounds of a heater system slowly woke you out of deep slumber. The darkness of the night fogged up the room you rested in, yet you could tell that everything around you was so unfamiliar. The scent of the cozy bed you lay in, arrangement of furniture, the odd plushie that breathed calmly at the edge of the bed...wait a minute. Your eyes dilated, adjusting to the darkness, when you suddenly jumped, seeing this so called plushie was actually the same boy from earlier. He sat on his knees, resting his head on his arms along the side of the bed. You shrunk into the corner, gripping the blankets close to you as if to create a shield from him. Millions of thoughts began to imvade your mind, but figuring out a way to get out of there remained at the focal point. You scanned, looking for any possible way of exit and ended up with two outcomes: the shuttered window and the bedroom door. You sighed. How annoying. From a library, to a strangers home. Ugh. Your clothes were still wet from the rain and scrunched up against you. The spot where you lay on bed itself was a bit soaked as well and you frowned. Slowly, you set down the blankets and gently crawl off of the bed, watching for any alarming movements from the sleeping boy, until the bed creaked rather loudly. Instinctually, you collapse on the bed, shutting your eyes tightly as the boy is woken out of slumber. He yawns and rubs his eyes, then they land on your figure. He chuckles softly, sleep tugging at his voice.

"...you're awake aren't you.." It's more of a statement than a question. Your body remained as still as the black fog of night that obscured the vision of you and him. "...you should probably shower. It must be uncomfortable in those soaked clothes. I know it's an ungodly hour right now, but still...I can lend you some of my clothes..? Oh! And after, I cooked some vegetable soup after I brought you here, but you were really broken down and I didn't want to wake you up, so if you're strong enough, I can warm it up for you if you'd like.."

"I'm sorry, but I don't know you and I don't think I should be here. Thank you for your help, but I think it's be best for me to get going," you said, sitting up on the bed and facing him. He was now standing at the original spot he rested.

"I...but, it's still raining out, miss-"

"I can see that. Just give me an umbrella and I'll be on my way, thank you."

"...okay." And with that, he left the room in silence. You huffed and fell back on his bed and stared upon the popcorn ceiling. As sweet and welcoming as the guy seemed, a stranger's a stranger, no matter how good they percieve...yet there was something about him so refreshing, flourishing. Ugh. You stand up from the bed and decide to look around for a bit, just after clicking on the lamp on the side table.

And oh my, this guy was a nerd.

You chuckled. Almost everywhere you looked stood a piece of previous number one hero, All Might's merchandise, that and couple of other heroes. In the corner by a bookshelf sat a few dumbbells, a hand grip, and other weight trinkets. On his desk were multiple campus notebooks. Out of curiosity, you flipped through them and damn were they all filled with abilities, strategies, quirks, and hero related information. You smile, noticing a small framed photograph on his desk of little him in an All Might suit and his mom. Oh, how the sweetest little details could suck you up. And then you wondered, why would someone ever pick up stranger off the streets? From his perspective you were unknown as well so...? That's where your dilemma sat—between a kind soul or wicked intentions, although he didn't seem like the type. Before resuming your tour, the guy shuffled back into the room with a black umbrella and plastic bag hanging from his fingers. You turn around, and with the lamp light illuminating the room, finally getting a good look at him. His green disheveled hair, curious emerald eyes and...he was frowning. Not that you cared, but it felt off that he was, as if it didn't fit him.

"I have the umbrella," he says, walking over and handing it to you, along with the bag. "Here. And this is a fresh jacket." He motions to the bag.

"Thank you, but I only need the umbre-"

"Take it, please," he replied quickly, gently pushing your hand clutching the bag. "I'll see you out."

You followed him. It's not like you wanted to be in the rain, you just couldn't stay in an unknown place. But then again, he seemed like a nice guy. He places his hand on the doorknob and opens the door a crack, the cold air and droplets of rain swiftly piercing through. He turns to you with a concerning expression.

"Really, miss, do you want to leave this badly? The storm is still pretty harsh."

"Yes," you answer, grabbing the edge of the door and widening it, stepping out into the world, immediately regretting it. Sick was building up in your throat and you coughed violently.

"Change your mind, miss?" He grins playfully with his arms crossed over his chest, standing in the warmth and shelter of his apartment. You looked up to the sky for a moment letting your skin soak up the rain and back to the guy at the doorframe. You sigh, rolling your eyes at his win. He allows space as you step back inside and closes the door behind you.

"Actually, maybe I will have a bowl of that soup...but right after that, I'll be out the door and you'll never see me again."

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: alcohol, pining a/n: modern au, bartender!Law. obsessed with the idea of Law being the sullen but charming bartender at some dive bar.

Bartender Law who first notices you one night with a gaggle of what he can only assume are work friends (given the business casual attire and the half-dead expressions as you all shuffle in the door and show your IDs). They drink, they smoke, they laugh too loud in the small space, they demand to commandeer the music system; you seem lost in a sea of large personalities, and he wonders if they dragged you with them, or if you went voluntarily. He sells them cheap beer and well liquor, and his head pounds as the noise level in the dingy dive bar grows, but he can’t help but be drawn to you--blank-faced, sitting off to the side, having the occasional quiet conversation with some older woman who’s sticking to ginger ale but mostly scrolling through your phone until someone accuses you of not having a good time.

He catches your eye now and again, trades in his sullen expression for a half-grin and a wink in solidarity—he knows these people suck, he wants to say, but just tough it out and you’ll probably earn some brownie points and maybe a reprieve from the next night out if you’re lucky. You seem unimpressed by his attempts, offering him a tight-lipped smile in return before burying your nose in your screen again. He runs his hand through his mess of black hair, finding your lack of interest curious. He wonders what he'd have to do to get your attention and keep it, but tries not to become distracted by your indifference as some belligerent blowhard in a suit flags him down for another beer.

Law announces last call, and the faceless crowd of office workers settle up and make their way out the door, singing and laughing and swearing they’ll never come back to this shithole. He looks over to see you still sitting there, one earbud in, watching something on your phone while you finish the drink you’ve been nursing. He sidles up to you, resting his head in his hands, and flatly asks what you’re watching. You’re cute, he thinks, the way you startle, realizing that it’s just you and him left in the bar, and you quickly apologize and scramble for your wallet. You should come back some time, he tells you, just maybe without your shitty group of friends. You smile, the only sincere one he’s seen from you all night, and say that perhaps you will—the company was awful but at least the drinks were good.

You’re all he can think about on the walk home—your sweet smile, and your downcast demeanor that was clearly a little off-putting to your coworkers (though they seemed like assholes, to be fair), and the way you only seemed to feel at ease once they were gone and it was just the two of you. He turns on the TV and closes his eyes, trying to put out of his mind the way your hips moved as you walked out of the bar, the way your skirt flowed with every step, to no avail. He sees a hundred faces every night moving in and out of the dimly-lit bar, never giving them a passing thought except for matching credit cards to faces as he closed out tabs, but there was something about yours that nestles in his mind, that makes him hope he’ll see you again, that maybe he could find a way to charm you enough to make you a regular.

He’s surprised to see you again a few nights later, and again a couple nights after that; soon, you spend most of your evenings in his presence, reading some soft-cover book he vaguely recognizes or scrolling through your phone or watching the few decrepit regulars playing pool and hurling insults at each other before laughing and slapping each other’s backs in jest. Weeknights aren’t exactly packed, so he wanders over to you, asks you in his low voice about your book, or what you’re watching, or comments on how Jim could have totally sunk that eight-ball if he weren’t more concerned about his beer. He feels his heart skip a little with every smile or laugh he elicits from you, starts chasing after them, getting drunk off your sweetness.

Law isn't exactly above trading in his usual glower for a charming grin, and flirting with patrons to earn a heftier tip—what else is the point of his good looks if he couldn’t deign himself to unbutton a couple more shirt buttons to show off his copious tattoos and lower his voice to a husky whisper just to watch the money drain from the wallets of lusty middle-aged office workers and college girls turning drinking age? But with you it never feels like flirting, never even feels like trying. It only feels like a conversation between two lonely people, one that could be happening anywhere, one that he wonders if he could have with you outside the walls of the darkened bar.

But he knows it’s wrong—he’s seen too many buddies ask out a patron and have it go horribly sideways; but then again, those idiots didn’t know their favorite customers the way he knows you.

He knows you because he listens. He listens, and he watches, and he patiently studies you like a textbook. Before long, he can read every quirk of your eyebrows, every smirk on your pretty lips, every nervous gesture you make as you fiddle with the cardboard drink coasters, slowly tearing it to bits as you rail about your stupid boss. He knows all the major players at your office, just as you know all the other employees at the bar, and he knows your mom's name, and your favorite drinks, and what you order on your pizza after you got a little too tipsy one night and decided to have one delivered for the two of you to share.

And he lets you in. He tells you about his tattoos, how the one on his chest is a tribute to a man who raised him and saved him from himself, even lets you run your fingers over the ones on his knuckles as you stare at them, glassy-eyed and vodka-drunk. He tells you about his failed attempt at medical school, and his favorite stories about unruly patrons. He tells you things that he's never told anyone--not for lack of wanting, but because he simply had no one to tell it to.

What he has with you is the closest he’s had to a functional relationship in—well, a while, and he pushes the idea out of his mind that perhaps he’s becoming so attached to you precisely because he has to keep you at arm’s length. He has suffered losses, losses unimaginable to most, and he knows that he cannot lose what he cannot possess.

And so he listens. He listens, and he adores, and he loves from across the wooden bartop. As far as Law is concerned, you belong to each other, even if it’s only in the confines of this smoky bar; in this sphere of his own creation, you are his and he is yours, and maybe that would have to be enough.

[callmewrinkles3]

Phone Call

Summary: While sitting waiting for their hotel room to be available the day after Silverstone, Em gets a phone call that changes the rest of her year.

July 2023

It was supposed to just be an easy day, relaxing in the hotel while Blake and Dan had their meetings in Red Bull to prep for the tyre test and what Dan needed to do to be in contention for next year. A couple of hours later her phone rang, Em going out to the lobby to take the call.

“Hey Baby, what’s happening?”

“I know we said next year. I know. But how do you feel about finding somewhere to live in Faenza for the rest of the year?”

Her heart felt like it had stopped. This year. She couldn’t believe it.

“Seriously? I’m in public I can’t really talk. But what’s the details?”

“Helmut gave Nyck till Silverstone to get on Yuki’s level, he hasn’t done it. If the tyre test goes well tomorrow then it’s mine if I want it. But I promised you this year. And you’re pregnant. You won’t be able to go to the last races. I just..fuck.”

“Will you regret it if you say no?” It was quiet between them for a moment, the ease between them simple.

“Yeah. I will.”

Em took a deep breath before looking around the hotel, spotting people in team gear. She’d said yes already, but this felt different. “Then you do it .”

“You sure you’re ok with me taking it?”

“Yeah. It’s not going to be easy, but we did it before. We can do it again. I can’t totally talk, but do it. It’ll be fine.”

“Thank you Emmy.”

“Go prove you deserve it. I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Em stared at her tablet as she went back into the bar, staring at the mock up for the baby’s nursery that she’d been working on. Instead she pulled up one of her old travel spreadsheets and made a copy, getting to work with planning. This was going to be insane.

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked, Em shaking her head.

“It’s about what we talked about last night, Dan had to tell me something, I’ll tell you when we’re in one of the rooms?” Her words were clear enough that Charlie knew it was serious but didn’t reply, working out what she was doing for the week. It was working remote and running her sessions remotely where possible, but with the kids that wasn’t always a thing.

Finally Dan and Blake got back as their hotel rooms were ready, the four going up and piling into Dan and Em’s room. He’d organised a room with a balcony that looked over Silverstone for Em to watch the tyre test as he drove. When everyone was sitting down Dan spoke.

“If my times tomorrow are representative of the times I’ve been doing in the sim, I’ll be announced as an Alpha Tauri driver on Friday morning.”

The shock fully hit Em, staring at him as she felt the baby move. This is real. It’s happening. Oh god.

“Nyck’s seat?” Charlie asked and Dan nodded. “Does he know?”

“Marko gave him till Silverstone but he hasn’t improved. The gap with Yuki hasn’t changed at all. I think he thinks he’ll have till the summer but that won’t happen. Christian told me this is an audition for the big one. I heard some of the mechanics talking. Checo and Carola had a fight after the race on Sunday.”

“Poor girl.” Em was quiet for a moment. “So Friday? That’s soon. How does it feel?”

“Terrifying. But I’ll get there. You ready to be a wag again? Charlie are you ok with this? I know it wasn’t what you planned.”

“We’ll make it work. I…you belong in a car, Dan. You do. Blake and I can work out, right?”

“Yeah we will.” Em watched Blake take her hand and squeeze, holding onto her tightly. “Chuck comes first, if I need to go I’m going.”

“If you need to go I’m booking your flight myself. You made sure Dan and I made things work, it’s our turn now. But this is happening? We’re all good with it?”

“Yeah. It is. Fuck. I’m driving in a race in two weeks.”

After the four of them ate a late lunch they agreed to chill out in their own hotel rooms for the night. Dan pulled Em into his side as she ran her fingers through his curls.

“Have you told your parents yet?” Em asked quietly.

“Not yet. Not till it’s official? I don’t want them to think it’ll happen till it does. Plus they’ll ask about Mike and that…yeah. Fuck.”

“Oh Baby, I know. I know.” It still hurt that they didn’t speak anymore, that the hug she’d given him at Silverstone was the only time she’d seen him since her wedding. But she’d come home to see him leave the house in anger, Dan unwilling to talk about everything in their fight. She still missed her big brother so much, and spending weekends in the same hotel and garage would be surreal.

“Fuck. It’s just shit. He was my best man and two days later. It’s shit.”

“I know. And I can’t say anything else. But you won’t be working closely with him. And maybe it’ll thaw things.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Em kept running her fingers through his hair, kissing Dan’s forehead. It had to be ok. It had to be.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 25 - chess master

pairing: chess master!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you meet a dashing stranger who knows a lot about chess on a plane

word count: 1604

warnings: airplanes? flight anxiety mentions and descriptions. not very romantic i guess

spence-tober masterlist

Flying was a result of your job and you think you’ve gotten fairly good at the process. Get to the airport early because of traffic. Make it through security fairly easily due to having TSA pre-check. And then chill out at your boarding gate perhaps getting a coffee or something to eat until you can finally get on the plane.

That’s why you were slightly ticked now, sitting on the plane fully ready to take off into the sky, however, still grounded.

Apparently someone had not taken the same precautions you had and the plane was still waiting for them. Thankfully, your business meetings weren’t until the next day so you could spare the wait time.

How did you know there was still someone not on the plane?

It was the empty seat next to you, with no one in it in an otherwise crowded and fully booked plane. That and the announcements the pilots and flight attendants were making every so often, updating all the passengers on the situation.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” You hear down the aisle ahead of you. You can only assume it is the missing passenger who finally made it onto the plane and you put away your phone in preparation for take off finally.

You hear people grumble around you about how it sucks that their flight is being delayed because of a singular person and you can’t help but agree in your mind, but you also don’t fully fault the late man either. 

Besides, from his panicked voice and shaken look, you already know the man feels guilty enough about the situation. Although it does wonder and make you think why the flight was held for this singular man.

His appearance, although rattled, doesn’t say much about his occupation or level of importance. He’s wearing a brown sweater vest with a simple white button up underneath. His brown slacks aren’t anything too special and you don’t recognize the brand of watch he’s wearing on his wrist either. The satchelbag hanging from his tall, thin, form looks well worn and his hair isn’t gelled back or slick with hairspray either. Just messy like a hand has run through it many times.

“Sorry, excuse me,” The man continues to say as he makes his way down the aisle. He stops at your seat and the empty one beside you, like you knew he would.

He gives you a bashful and flushed smile and then scoots into the seat beside you, “Sorry.” He apologizes again, a genuine lilt in his tone.

The way the plane is arranged has three areas for seats. The two sides and the middle, each section having two seats. You sat in the window seat, leaving the aisle for the mystery man.

“You don’t have to apologize.” You tell him, returning the sweet smile, “It’s okay.” You assure him.

A grateful look is sent your way from his eyes, but you can still tell he’s feeling the guiltiness and the annoyed gazes from passengers around him.

The glares start dissipating as the flight attendants and pilots start the take off procedures and soon, you turn your attention to your window, looking out on the runway. 

“I, uh, didn’t mean to hold everyone up.” The man admits softly beside you. You turn your head to look at him, blinking at him. “I got an extra check heading through security.”

“It’s okay.” You say to him. “It was the pilots decision to stay and wait.”

He seems to take the assurance well and before he can reply, the plane starts slowly making its move along the runway and he instead puts his head back against the headrest and closes his eyes.

Flight anxiety, you think as you watch his eyebrows furrow and his large bony hands grip the armrests a little bit more. 

You don’t talk to him again until he’s relaxed and you’re well up in the air, now coasting along the clouds.

It’s when the man besides you starts to come out of his shell and ruffles around in his satchel bag and pulls out a portable chess board is when you’re intrigued enough to talk to him again. However, he beats you to the punch.

“You play?” He asks you as he pulls down the folding table from the chair in front of him and unfolds his chess board.

You shake your head, “No, I’ve never learned.”

“Would you like to?” He questions as he places the pieces on their respective sides to gear up a new game.

You shrug and put your phone away in your pocket, “Sure.” It wasn’t like you had anything else better to do other than a few downloaded podcasts.

“I’m Spencer, by the way.” The man, Spencer, tells you as he swings the white side of the board toward you and contorts his body to face you, even in the small airplane seat.

With a smile on your face, you give him your name and also shove your body uncomfortably against the armrest to face Spencer.

“Alright, now what do all the pieces do?” You say, lightly clapping your hands together and then looking to Spencer for instruction.

The flight isn’t too long, but it isn’t short either. Short enough to not get a meal with flight service, but the flight attendants do eventually do rounds to ask if anyone wants a small snack or a drink.

You share a laugh with Spencer when the flight attendant scares him from behind and grab his arm to keep him from flailing about, saving the flight attendant from spilled champagne. 

“Sorry!” You both say in tandem as the flight attendant walks off to serve the next person. She waves you off kindly and hands you two water bottles.

As Spencer looks back at you, you both share a incredulous look mixed with a bit of awe and silliness. 

You move a pawn one square forward, “So, you just normally play chess on a plane?” You inquire.

He nods, not taking much thought while moving a bishop to take your pawn. “Yeah, I guess I do.” Spencer answers you.

You slightly pout and push out your lip as he takes your piece and scour the board for your next move, doing your best to remember the rules Spencer had told you.

“I am traveling to a chess competition after all. Getting practice in makes sense, don’t you think.”

Taking your eyes off the board, you look at Spencer shocked with the news just revealed to you. “You’re traveling to a chess competition?” You exclaim, surprised.

Spencer smiles and simply nods his head.

“So you must be, like, really good.” You simply state, still not taking your attention off the man in front of you. There’s a wisp of something behind his smile and his eyes, like he was excited to see your reaction. A bit of mischief, you think.

“I like to think I am.” Spencer says, keeping his answer, the one you’re trying to get out of him, vague. 

“What’s your rank?” You say, skeptical of how vague he was being. Spencer wasn’t one to brag about himself and in talking with him while playing chess, he didn’t reveal too much about his current life.

Just talked about some old friends he has, his mom, and things from his childhood.

He smirks, “So you do know about chess?”

You scoff, smiling at his attempt to stall, “I watched the Queens Gambit. That’s about it.”

Finally moving a piece, a knight that you were sure you were going to lose in the next two turns, Spencer mumbles his rank almost too low for you to hear. Key word, almost.

“Grandmaster!” You repeat after him, entirely shocked now.

By the way he played so calmly, humbly and how he patiently taught you, you knew he had to have been pretty good at chess. But you never thought he participated in actual competitions nor was a grandmaster at the game.

You laugh and then look at the board and for the first time, Spencer’s calculating gaze as you are sure his mind is going through all the possible permutations, 

“So there’s, like, no way I’m gonna win this.” You state, still laughing.

Spencer joins in with a small chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. His neck and ears are slightly flushed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He confirms.

He moves his Queen forward and takes your knight. “But we still have some time to play some more games before we land.” 

“That we do.” You confirm, your hand coming up to cover over your mouth as you try to think what your next move should be. “How about we make a bet?” You say, taking your attention off the board.

It intrigues Spencer, you know it does by the look on his face. This must be the competitive nature that’s led him to his success in his field. 

He waits for you to go on.

“If you beat me at all of the games we play, I’ll give you my number.”

Your heart beats a little faster, trying to gauge his response to see if you are to be rejected or if your forwardness will pay off. Your feelings settle as you see a smile start growing on the corners of his mouth and an amused glint in his eye glimmers. His back straightens and his posture becomes more pronounced and he cracks the knuckles in his hands. You quickly realize you’ve just woken the sleeping dragon. 

Or rather, motivated a man who’s very good, and now, very determined to win.

a/n: i am currently writing this very early in the morning/late at night because i need to sort out my priorities and actually sit down at my computer during the day...

[a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives]

More update from Luke Arnold's newsletter!

It’s All Happening!

Where to begin? I’ve had a busy few weeks, and whether you’re interested in my books, comics or acting, I reckon I’ve got something for you today.

ESSENTIALS

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BLACK SAILS

Black Sails is now on Netflix in the US! I’d be shocked if there’s anyone on this mailing list who hasn’t watched the show, but this might be the perfect time to convince others to finally take to the seas.

I was lucky enough to be in LA for a bit of a reunion and celebratory screening. It was a glorious night of hugs, laughter, back-slapping and even a few tears (who would have expected Charles Vane to be the first to cry?) We’ve already hit the 6th most watched show on Netflix, so let’s see how high we can climb.

SCRUBLANDS

Scrublands is coming to Sundance Now on May 12th! You can check out the US trailer here!

And at that time, I’ll be heading to Western Australia to begin shooting the follow-up SILVER, based on Chris Hammer’s next book in the Martin Scarsden series.

I loved working on this show and was so happy with the amazing response we got when it aired in Australia, so I can’t wait to get back into Martin’s shoes.

FETCH 4

We’re into edits on the fourth instalment of The Fetch Phillips Archives. I’m really happy with this book so hopefully we’ll have a solid release date to announce soon.

Let’s leave it there for now. I'll have some other things to share soon, including details on Nautilus, Last King of the Cross, and more.

Thanks again for all your support, and have a lovely day wherever you are x

From: Luke Arnold's newsletter (Sign up here to get his mailing list!)

[charcoalhawk]

The haunting of Masters’ Mansion

This is a backup truce gift for @shadowofaghost5 , hope to bring you some (very) belated Christmas cheer!

Prompt: Vlad & Danny bonding (by annoying each other? did they have to work together for something and accidentally started enjoying it? is Vlad being nice for once and teaching Danny stuff? How they bond is entirely up to you!)

Warnings: none

“-and Frankie said I could stay with them and their partner for the holidays. I think we may go to one of our other friends' houses on Christmas Day, but that’s still up in the air pending how many of his family is coming home.”

“That’s awesome Jazz”, Danny smiles at his sister over FaceTime, “so I’ll see you probably during spring break? Assuming no, uh, pit stops?”

“Yeah, spring break. And no Danny, no pit stops. Enjoy your last semester and your extracurriculars, we can call and text as much as you need.”

“I don’t know, if the house is still being fumigated after the new year I may just have to hide in your dorm for a few days just to get some sleep.”

Apparently using unstable ectoplasm for years and building much of their own home had caused the building not to be strictly up to code, and while they’re not having to rebuild any existing structures, the city had insisted on doing a through investigation, and then announced that the house would need to be thoroughly fumigated for at least a month, amongst other problems.

They’d been able to book a hotel for the first few nights, but as it grew closer to Christmas his parents had been informed they would need to find other lodgings as their rooms had already been booked starting the next two days all the way through the new year.

Luckily a family friend was willing to host them over the holidays, as after a frantic search it seemed like most hotels had already been bought out or were charging truly outrageous prices for the holidays.

Unluckily for Danny his parents insisted he stay with them for the Holidays, even after both Tucker and Sam had promised that either of their parents wouldn’t mind hosting Danny for a few weeks.

So they had shuffled themselves into the Fenton RV, suitcases and presents pressing into Danny from every angle from where they’re all crammed indiscriminately.

It has only taken an hour for his parents to restart the argument they had put on hold last night. At this point after almost eighteen years Danny thought he could recite both sides of his parents "is Santa real" argument from memory. Danny knows he had been lucky before that his parents had only had small arguments since Mariah Carey had started haunting every radio station since October.

“You know mom and dad just wanted one more Christmas with you before you go off to college.”

“I know.” He chances a glance at the front of the RV where even now his parents are in furious debate, “but knowing them they’re just going to spend the whole time arguing or trying to make me pick a side.”

Jazz tries to smile on video call, but they’re far enough out in the countryside that his phone’s connection is getting really spotty.

“I know. I tried when I called them last week to get them to understand how doing this was only going to drive you away” Danny can’t help but scrunch his nose in distaste, “don’t look at me like that Danny, you’re almost an adult. We can have these kinds of conversations, but I don’t think it quite stuck like I wanted it to.”

Jazz gives him a sympathetic look before her picture abruptly flips, and now Danny is staring at a slightly worse for wear Bearbert Einstein. Jazz waives one of his arms and puts on her most obnoxious, silly voice.

“But both me and Jazz want to wish you a very good new year,” her hand shifts so it seems Bearbert is nodding his head, “and Jazz would like to kindly request that you don’t try and murder Vlad unless he tries to get you first!”

Danny chokes on a laugh as the camera switches back to Jazz’s now beaming smile, and soon they’re saying their goodbyes as Jazz rushes to finish packing.

Once the call ends and the low arguing of his parents is now the only sound in the RV, Danny allows himself to scowl.

That was the other unfortunate thing, turns out they would be staring with Vlad over the holidays.

The only thing worse than Christmas time, and trust him there is not much worse than the Fenton’s at Christmas, is having to share that time with Uncle Vlad.

Danny can see his future now, Vlad will take his mom’s side, which in turn will make his dad turn to him.

The only silver lining in all this, and trust him it is a very slim silver lining, is that over the past four years he and Vlad have a more steady truce in place and neither goes out of his way to intentionally maim or attack the other.

When they finally pull up to Vlad’s gaudy home, nothing immediately strikes Danny as out of place, but he notices that his parents seem unnerved about something and that immediately sets him on edge.

As they all clamor out of the RV his ghost sense tells him Vlad is lurking nearby. No one exits to help them get their bags but the door swings open dramatically before his dad can start pounding on the door.

“Jack! Glad to see that you are well.” Vlad places a very reluctant hand on his Dad’s shoulder, which is all the prompting Dad needs to sweep Vlad into a truly impressive bear hug.

Vlad’s smile is carefully pinned in place, as he allows the extended contact with Jack before sweeping down to RV, likely to offer to carry his mom’s bags.

“Madeline! How good to see you!” His mom carefully steps out of Vlad’s way while keeping her own smile carefully on.

“It’s good to see you too Vlad, we really can’t thank you enough for agreeing to host us on such short notice.”

He and Vlad share a careful nod as Dad leads them all into the foyer, and Danny can only hope with such a big house it can actually allow him some peace and quiet.

“Yeah V-man, thanks for letting us stay here while the house is being checked out. But I gotta say Vladdie,” his dad gestures around the opulent foyer, “where’s all your Christmas stuff?”

His mom takes a careful look around and her eyes widen as she realizes what her husband says is true.

“Oh now that you mentioned it dear, it is odd,” she turns more fully towards Vlad, genuine interest in her tone and not the carefully cultivated fake interest Danny knows she holds whenever he’s seen her interact with Vlad in recent years.

“While Santa Claus obviously isn’t real, the story of Saint Nick should still be celebrated, and of course a chance to give gifts to our loved ones.”

His parents share a glare, but it’s clear they’re too shaken by Vlad’s lack of decorations to devolve back into spirited debate.

“We can take the RV into town right now!” His Dad makes an abrupt about face and starts tugging Vlad along with him, “bet they still have some real trees for sale, only real way to celebrate is with a real tree!”

“Oh good idea Jack! Vlad can show us where he stores his other decor and while you two are gone Danny and I can set up the lights.”

“Oh nonsense, we should all get the tree together!”

“I guess you're right Jack, that is a very important Christmas tradition. Then do you know where the nearest tree farm is Vlad? I’m sure we could find one but I’m sure you have your preferences.”

Vlad starts to look increasingly uncomfortable as his parents gang up on him.

“C’mon Vladdie! If we leave now we should still have time to set up the Christmas tree!”

Just as his Dad is about to pull Vlad past the threshold of the house, Vlad seems to snap out of his stupor and easily shakes off his Dad’s hand, backing up further into the house like he thinks Dad will lunge at him to pull him into the RV.

“That won’t be necessary. While I wouldn’t begrudge your family its traditions, I have no interest in spending multiple hours putting up frivolous decorations that are only going to live in boxes most of the year.”

“Oh bah, I’ve seen you spend weeks decorating this place for whenever the Packers play!”

“I don’t care, I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

It feels like the entire house freezes.

“I don’t have any particularly strong feelings around winter and Christmas time, and so to me they are just another few weeks of the year. I only even remember them because every store and TV station is decorated in red and green from November until the new year.”

It’s silly, but Danny had never realized that you could just, do that. He knows Sam and her family celebrate Hanukkah, hell even ghosts have the Truce, but he’d kinda been under the impression that everyone did something for the winter holidays.

The next few minutes are filled with his parents arguing the joys of Christmas time, while Vlad seems to grow increasingly more bored as the minutes tick by.

At some point his parents seem to realize they won’t get through to Vlad by simply arguing their case, so his Dad declares they will go out and vows that by the time they leave Vlad will be filled with the Christmas spirit.

With the slam of the RV door his parents are gone, leaving Danny and Vlad standing awkwardly in the now empty foyer.

“Well, that was a waste of my time.”

As the shadow of the RV disappears around the corner, Danny suddenly has an idea.

“Ok frootloop I’ve got a deal for you.” Vlad raises a single brow, at least he’s curious. “Neither of us wants this place to become infested with Christmas, so we work together and make my Mom and Dad think your house is haunted by some Christmas hating spectr, and then they’ll be so focused on hunting down the ghost they won’t have time to bother either of us.”

“Are you suggesting we make up a ghost to haunt your parents Daniel? My, that’s something I would usually think of.”

“Oh don’t give yourself that much credit. I’ve already been basically haunting my parents for the last four years.”

As so, an alliance is born.

The next two weeks Danny finds out he and Vlad make a startlingly efficient pair at tracking down and vanishing any extra Christmas decor his parents try to smuggle in the house.

Danny knows his parents have kept all their presents in the RV for fear of this new ‘Christmas ghoul’ stealing them, and honestly Danny is having the time of his life. His parents are united for once in their Christmas opinions, and they’re so busy trying to hunt this imaginary ghost that they forget to try and get Danny on either of their sides.

Christmas Day still passes in a flurry of activity, but this year it’s his parents camping out by the chimney all night waiting for a ghost, or Santa, to come sneaking into the house. They end up sleeping most of the next day, and by the time new year hits Danny hasn’t heard his parents argue about Santa being real in almost a week.

And if his friends ever question the morality of the situation Vlad is such an easy target he won’t even deny it.

[missathlete31]

🌪️Top Gun Twisted 🌪️

A Top Gun Maverick- Twister AU

Premise:

Jake, Natasha and Bradley are three scientists and storm chasers at the top of their field. Jake, though he doesn’t ever talk about it, lost his parents in a storm when he was little and has dedicated his life to fixing the warning system ever since. He’s a natural in the field and has even been described as knowing what a tornado is thinking by the way the blond always seems to know where the storm is headed.

Natasha meanwhile is all about the readings. A meteorologist major, she is their human barometer, always keep track of the pressure, the wind strength and potential for destruction.

Bradley is a bit more by the book and cautious than the others but is just as brillant as his teammates. He’s worked harder to be respected in this field, taking a few more years in school than Jake and Natasha but he is the most well liked of the three and therefore is the one sent out for grant proposals. Not everything in storm chasing comes as naturally to Bradley but he makes up for it with his knack for directions and navigation, and of course his resilience.

The trio works great for a while until soon their styles just don’t seem to be meshing as well. Natasha and Jake can’t seem to realize that they both are falling for the other and start to turn harsher (much to Bradley’s chagrin as he is subjected to listen to both sides of their ridiculous arguments).

One day during a chase, Jake insists that a tornado is going to turn. Bradley disagrees and Nat sides with the older scientist. Hurt, Jake takes his car and heads the other way, convinced that he is right and leaves the others behind. Without the combined efforts of their trio, the team ends up in a dangerous position and all three almost lose their lives in the storm. Bradley is livid at Jake’s selfishness but Jake is mad that his opinion was dismissed so much because it didn’t agree with Bradley’s textbook. The two come to blows and Natasha is tasked with diffusing the situation.

The next day Jake announces he is leaving for good. He asks Natasha to join him but the woman just shakes her head and says she is staying with Bradley to finish their commitments to the lab. Devastated and broken-hearted, Jake leaves the two and starts his own research team.

A few years later Jake is informed by Dr. Simpson that a benefactor is willing to sponsor their lab. This generous man is only known as Iceman in the science world and Simpson informs Jake that Ice’s money is only theirs if Jake agrees to partner with a few other scientists. Jake is reluctant at first but their lab fees are adding up and he could use the funds. He agrees and heads out to Oklahoma with his best friend Javy, and scientist Fritz to meet this new team. It ends up being Natasha and Bradley’s squad.

It seems that Iceman managed to get a hold of some of Jake’s designs on a sensor that if put in a tornados path, could collect enough information to help increasing the warning system. Bradley and Natasha are now trying to put it together but they need Jake’s help to finish it up and eventually test it in the fields.

With the chance to give people more time to get out of a tornado’s path (something his parents never got) Jake has no choice but to agree to help.

Unfortunately for him this decision puts him back into the path not only of some of Mother Nature’s deadliest storms but also with the woman that broke his heart years ago.

It’s going to be a bumpy ride

🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️

Okay guys let me know what you think!!!

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Aaaand at last the long awaited chapter 7 that I've been hoarding from yall for a lil while! There's just a little buildup here, so not terribly essential, but I think it was important to write anyway. This sets up the next chapter, so be aware of that...

And as always, I must invite my esteemed guests @itsberrydreemurstuff, @bibooby, @laegume and @andyssilly to the lil slumber party. (If anyone else wants to be tagged just lemme know and I'll put ya in the next one!)

Anyways, on with the show!

Word Count: 3075

The tension from this morning melts away pretty quickly once the kids show up. You’re dragged into a tea party, sipping air from a plastic cup with your knees tucked into your chest to fit you while you gossip to the children about Mr. Teddy Bear’s newest escapade in an overly-posh accent.

That feeling from earlier creeps up on you again, the phantom constrictions in your chest tightening, and you hardly have time to mask your sharp inhale and wince when a hard shock runs up your spine, warning you of what’s to come. The kids seem worried for a moment, but you cover up your reaction with a dramatic tale, urging them to ‘banish’ you to your station to save them from the wretched demon possessing your immune system. It’s not really that type of illness, not the sort they can catch, but you’ve always had a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and your performance does the trick.

You regret not bringing your medicine today, but Sun had warned you not to, and he was effectively the boss. It wasn’t so bad anyway- just a bit of soreness, nothing terribly noteworthy. Worst case scenario, you could take a pill from the Daycare’s little pharmacy cabinet and make it through the day. And maybe call your brother as a last resort, but you refused to bother him unless it was an emergency. For now, you’ll just wait it out. 

Snacktime is announced, and you wheel out the food, standing to the side as your stomach decides to make its hunger known. Did you have breakfast before you left? You don’t know. You didn’t think to pack a lunch (you never do) and your clock-out time wasn’t soon enough for you to placate your hunger. You stare at the contents on the table and remind yourself that it’s not for you, it’s for the kids, and Sun is right there. You return to your work station and attempt to read your book, but the words can’t seem to stay in your head.

By the time the lights go out, the pounding has sharpened, and you’re hardly able to move your legs without some ache in your bones. It’d probably be best if you left the daycare to check yourself over, which you neglect to tell Moon before he even gets his chance to do his little routine. His faceplate tilts to the side with a little click, and you’re out the door before he thinks to say anything. 

—---------------------------------

Moon blinked. That’s…new. They never take a break during naptime. 

The only reply he got from his brother was a subdued hum of agreement. 

—------------------------------

Your slightly unbalanced speed-walking comes to a halt a good 20 paces from the Daycare as you realize you have no idea where you’re going. You’ve never really been through the Pizzaplex aside from heading to your post or to Parts & Service, so you only knew two or three routes in this maze. Well, and the DJ’s arcade, but you only know the directions there from the entrance, not the Daycare. 

Maybe you could find your way from Parts & Service? Last time you’d been, the STAFF bots led the way…

Scratch that. You knew one route.

Lovely. You can’t say that you’re particularly thrilled to do more walking in your state, but you suppose there’s no time like the present to get further adjusted to your workplace. There was a restaurant around here somewhere, right? Even if their only dish was pizza that tasted like cardboard topped with soggy oatmeal, food was food, and it was better than nothing. If you could only figure out how to get there.

The irony of the fact that you have to go find the Map bot and ask it for directions is not lost on you. 

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Luckily, you don’t have to look far. It just so happens that one is conveniently stationed around a corner at some random attraction. You approach it awkwardly and tap it on the shoulder, offering a small, unsure smile. “Hey, I was wondering if you, uh…if you could spare me a map?”

You swear the stoic face of the bot in front of you practically lights up, and you can feel the beaming smile it gives you in spite of its static expression as it shoves a map into your hand with the vigorous and insistent mantra of “Take a map! Please take a map!”

You struggle to suppress the little laugh that bubbles out of you upon seeing its excitement, and you comply with its wishes, shooting it a much more relaxed smile and thanking it before it wheels away to the next set of customers. 

You examine the map eagerly thrust upon you. Apparently there are several dining areas, one for every floor. You don’t have much time to explore, though, so you choose the closest one to you: the FazPad.

After twenty minutes of running around in search of the elusive location, you’re finally able to find and order something from the somewhat overpriced menu with the help of the employee discount. Ordering a Moondrop curry seems fitting considering your position, though you pray Moon doesn’t somehow find out about it. You poke at the bright blue dish that you’re pretty sure is supposed to be edible. It isn’t half as bad as you expected, surprisingly. Shame you couldn’t say the same for its namesake.

Speaking of the lunar menace, you have maybe half an hour before naptime is over, and you refuse to be late. You’d seen them when you were tardy, and it was not pretty. Your mini check up would go pretty quickly, as you were confident it wasn’t anything problematic. 

Another ten minutes is spent trying to find a bathroom (you do not want to go back to use the one in the Daycare while Moon’s still out unless absolutely necessary). You lock yourself in a small stall and lean against the door to look yourself over, fingers gently pressing into your legs and lower back with hesitance. You cringe slightly, lips thinning into a line. You hate when this happens, but it should pass eventually. With any luck, you’d be able to go to work and avoid the worst of it. You’d just have to be a little more mindful of your limits.

This probably wouldn’t end up like last time.

Satisfied with your conclusion, you make your way back to the Daycare. Naptime was still in session and you were anticipating a trick upon your return.

—----------------------

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing as you gasp for air, shooting up from the mattress and breathing heavily, your eyes dart around your room, relaxing when you spot the familiar dark silhouettes of your belongings. There’s just enough moonlight from the window for you to make out details. Your hand flies to your chest almost instinctively, as if to verify that your heart’s still pumping, you’re still alive, still here. 

You’re awake now.

Once your initial panic dies down, you become acutely aware of three things. 

The first is that it is very hot, almost unbearably so. Sweat clings to your form as perspiration runs down your forehead. You can hear the AC vents pushing out air, but it doesn’t help cool the burning in your core that spreads through you.

The second thing you notice is that the shirt your hand is clutching tightly is your work uniform. You must’ve blacked out after coming home from work. As usual, you don’t remember that.

The third thing is the feeling of bile rising in your throat, and it swiftly surpasses the first two observations. You stagger to the kitchen sink on numb legs and lean heavily against the kitchen counter, retching violently. You’re still shaking by the time you can manage to lift your head out, forcing yourself to hack and spit the rest out to flush out the remaining fluids choking your throat. You hazard a glance at the sink before washing away the blue chunks. Figures. You’re never having Fazbear’s trademarked trash again.

You navigate back to your room to brush your teeth and rid the foul taste of vomit from your mouth, cranking up the AC on the way to bed. You toss the thin cover aside and adorn your pajamas, waiting for sleep to claim you and take you from this awful feeling. Something nags you in the back of your mind, warning you that it’s only about to get worse before you’re dragged under, in and out of consciousness as the night progresses.

Your alarm blares some time later and you fumble to turn it off. Little shit doesn’t know you’ve been up for the past hour. You bite back a groan. While your stomach had thankfully settled overnight, everything else has hit you full force. 

It’s official. You’re Sick.

Or at least, that’s what the shit feeling leads you to believe.

You make a weak attempt to sit up…only to immediately crash back down again. An involuntary cry of alarm rips from you at that sharp pain that lances through your spine. It’s so much worse than yesterday. You shake your head and force back tears. It usually doesn’t get this bad. It usually just stops at your lower back. 

Still, you have a job to do, and you’re not letting a little thing like this stop you.

Your things are shoved into your bag, work clothes thrown on. You hesitate but decide to bring the pills anyway. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep talking, but Sun yelling at you is nothing compared to this.

You’re out of the apartment before you even remember you forgot to pack a lunch yet again. 

—---------------------------

The attendants can't help but notice that something seems…off…about you.

On the surface level, nothing has changed. You still walk into the room and greet them, still write your reports and go along with Sun’s demands and Moon’s antics. But there are little things that tip them off, like the small limp in your step or the naps you’ve begun taking more often when the lights go out. 

Moon notices your bag has lost some weight. The usual thought and care packed into it is absent. Extra clothes and books are left behind, with only your phone and laptop inside. You’d also taken to bringing those pills. He’d given up on lecturing you about it when all he got was an affirmative that was immediately broken the next day. The lunar AI assured him they were harmless, but it was still off-putting.

Your emails, they noticed, had also become more succinct and to the point. Not that it was a bad thing: you tended to ramble in great detail, even in the simple notes. Lately, though, they found that it was missing something. 

Take your recent Maintenance update, for example. You’d apparently noticed the issues with their joints and filed a request for Parts & Service. You always notified them a day or two in advance prior to an appointment. This time, however, they did not receive your normally well-written email. It remained polite, of course, but it was clipped, curt.

Unexpected.

And it wasn’t just your work suffering, either. Your usual excitement when playing with the children was absent. You were tenser, got tired more easily, frequently taking breaks and hanging back to catch your breath.

No, the change wasn’t too great, but it was there, and it was starting to get a bit out of hand. You’d pretty much been glued to your desk for the last two days. And while you weren’t really required to do much else besides your updates, it still felt…wrong.

It didn’t matter, though, they reasoned. If you weren’t feeling good, you’d take a couple days off and they’d be done with it. They’d have enough leverage in addition to your recent slacking to get rid of you.

They…did still want to get rid of you, Sun reminded himself. You had flaws, flaws that could not exist in their perfect system, flaws that had to be eradicated to maintain order.

It was better for everyone that way.

______________________________________

You rub your eyes, slowly scanning your ID at the clock-in station and fighting back the dark edges in the corner of your vision. You hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, and it was starting to take a toll on you. You didn’t dare to call in sick, however, remembering all too well your coworkers’ reactions when you’d returned from you unexpected time off.

Granted, that was a special case, but they didn’t know that.

It’s not like you knew what had been going on at the time, anyway.

You stroll into the Daycare as usual, bag slung on your shoulder and a slightly less enthusiastic greeting on your lips. Your routine is interrupted when without warning, a dizziness crashes into you and leaves you with spots in your vision. They do not clear this time when you try to force them away. The room spins, and your knees buckle under you, causing you to lurch forward. You brace yourself against the wall and hiss at the sudden burning ache of your muscles. 

As quickly as it came, the feeling withdraws, pulling back fast enough that the dizziness multiplies instead of lessening. Once the room soon stills, you pull yourself back to your feet, sitting down at your desk and getting to work like nothing happened.

Just as well that no one saw.

You’re in the midst of writing another report when your phone goes off. You take a glance around to make sure that Sun isn’t watching and open them. There are three messages waiting for you. One from your brother asking how you’ve been, one mysterious letter from Fazbear, and one from…

Ah.

You skim the last one and dismiss it. The first two are received with greater excitement, something you haven’t felt in a little while. You respond to your brother with your trademarked ‘I’m doing just great let’s talk about something else now’ and read Management’s reply.

Hello, Fazbear Employee, 

We have received your request for funding for greater literary material. After careful consideration, we have decided to approve your proposal. You are required to send a list of materials you wish to purchase. Please remember that any liabilities and/or repercussions faced as a result of this project will result in immediate termination of your contract.

Thank you and have a Faz-errific day!'

Your exhaustion and illness is momentarily forgotten as you squeal and bounce in your seat excitedly. Oh, you already had a dozen titles running through your head that you were certain the kids would love. You’d already compiled a short list a few pages long in your notebook, you’d have to copy it and send it over as soon as possible-

Aaaaand there was that ever so familiar voice piping up in front of you and instantly dashing all your hopes and dreams. “Oh? What’s got you oh-so chipper this morning?”

You swallow down that instinctual feeling of being doused in ice water and manage to maintain your smile. “Management approved my request for buying more books!”

“I’d been under the impression you’d been doing so already..” he remarked dryly.

You ignore his comment, showing him the email and forgetting who you’re ranting to your boss in your excitement about this new opportunity. He takes the device and reads the email himself before responding in an odd voice. “Management didn’t send us an update about this…”

“I just found out myself,” you shrug, not noticing the subtle glare shot at you. “I already had a few titles in mind, but I’d be more than happy to get your opinions on them. The kids are gonna be so excited to get some new stories for naptime, and I’m sure we could-“

“There’s nothing wrong with what we have now for naptime,” he cuts you off, a second, darker undertone layering his voice briefly. His eyes flash red for a split second. 

You blink and hastily amend yourself. “Right, sorry, I just meant that it’ll be nice to have some more variety, that’s all. We could probably find some stuff for you guys, too, if you wanted. I’m sure Moon’s gotten tired of children’s books by now.”

The attendant says nothing for a while, remaining eerily still, and you turn around to see if he’s still there. There have  been some times where they’ve slipped away without you noticing. How they did so was unknown to you considering the many bells hanging from their frame. “Sun?”

The lights cut off abruptly, and the raspier voice returns, drawling sardonically with a hint of mockery. “Awww, you would do that for meee?” He clasps his hands together and flutters his ‘eyelids’ in a show of sarcasm.

“Hi Moon,” you greet him without missing a beat, shutting your laptop and rummaging through your bag for that notebook of yours. You normally brought it, but maybe you’d forgotten it again. You seemed to be doing that a lot lately…

A blue arm shoots out and grabs yours, promoting you to look up at your assailant’s glowering gaze.

“We don’t need your handouts, certainly not from the likes of you,” he hisses, squeezing your wrist tighter for emphasis. 

You manage a nod, swallowing the lump in your throat and lightly tugging at your arm to signal your desire for release. “R-right, of course, sorry, I just thought-“

“We aren’t interested in the thoughts of a mere worker.” His grip does not yield, the silicone masked metal hand like a shackle. You briefly recall Monty’s harsh bruises (time) before. You don’t want another limb to stop functioning right now. That would really suck.

He leans in to speak, privately relishing in the way you try to lean back with an inkling of fear. He grins sharply. “Y-“

A knock at the door startles the two door of you, earning a growl from Moon and a shuddery exhale of relief from you.

He sends you one last loathsome look before the lights flicker on and Sun attends to the new arrival. You release another sigh, rubbing your now sore wrist. Another ache added to the list.

And with that, a new day has officially begun.

As optimistic as you’d like to be, you’re pretty sure you know exactly where it’s going from here.

———————

Aaaaaaaand that’s a wrap! Sorry for the long wait everyone, hope it was worthwhile and I’ll see you all in the next one!