#the one good thing about is that the train i take in the morning departs directly from my city

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: jealous themes

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

[gojosbabi]

cumfort me! ♥

synopsis: you had a long day at work. luckily, your boyfriend gojo satoru, can help you forget all about it.

gojo satoru x reader smut! MDNI

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it felt like everything was working against you today. you had decided to get into work earlier than usual to get a headstart on the never-ending pile of tasks but was met with a massive train delay. this caused you to be in your office an hour later than usual. to make matters worse, colleagues from different departments were blowing up your email inbox about various types of requests and questions. it felt like your to-do list was growing by the second whereas time was rapidly slipping away. it was finally 7pm when you decided that you had made enough progress to stop. although you were slightly dehydrated and starving, all you could think about was returning home, which is not really a place but a person, who is none other than gojo satoru.

you haphazardly shoved everything into your bag and slid through the elevator doors, pressing the “close door” button as quickly as possible, hoping no one wants to join you on the elevator ride. it truly felt like things were finally going right when you were able to travel down 20 floors to the lobby uninterrupted. 

feeling all of your patience evaporate into thin air, you opt to take an uber home instead of the train, especially after the morning’s festivities at the station. after shutting the apartment door behind you, you shrug off everything you were holding right then and there at the foyer. without missing a beat, you quickly pad over to the figure sitting by the couch and slump on the floor in between his legs to rest your head on his lap. 

gojo’s hands immediately find their way to your hair, stroking it softly. “hi baby, you’re finally home. did’ya miss me that much?” he teased. he gently cups your face to raise your head so he can take a good look at you. 

“today was just so horrible, ‘toru. the trains were late, everyone at work kept asking me for something and on top of that, I had a million deadlines of my own to meet,” you whined, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his hand. gojo let you vent as much as you needed about the inconveniences of public transportation, superiors who always dumped work they didn’t want to do on others and just how exhausted you’ve been this past week. he occasionally nods and gives out sounds of agreement to let you know he’s listening, but inside, his gears are churning, thinking of how to turn around this bad day for you. 

“can you just fuck me so good that I forget all about today?” you mumble, face planted on his lap. it went quiet. you lifted your head up to see if he had heard you and when you made eye contact, it was like a switch had been flipped within him. in addition to that beautiful aquamarine color, he was giving you those bedroom eyes that sent jolts down to the tips of your toes. 

gojo swoops you up from the ground and lets you straddle him as he walks the two of you into the bedroom. “don’t worry baby, ‘m gonna fuck your pretty lil’ brain out.” he says as he sets you down on the bed. he kisses your temple while unbuttoning your white chiffon blouse and sliding off your tight little pencil skirt. 

as much as he loved you in your girlboss corporate attire, the view of you disheveled in your matching black lacy underwear under him made his cock throb. throwing all of his clothes to the side, he grinded his bare cock against your panties. “need more.” you whined. he slides your underwear to the side and a string of moans erupt from your lips the moment his fat tip catches on your clit. he could feel your cunt squeeze on nothing, needing to be stuffed to the brim. 

although his raging dick was telling him to just thrust into that pretty little pussy, he held off. He quickly rids you of all your underwear, revealing those perky tits and sopping wet pussy. 

“you’re such’a whore. already so wet and i barely did anything,” gojo says he lifts your legs up so he can remove your soiled panties. “did’ya fantasize about this dick all day at work?” he asks, roughly spreading apart your legs so he can get a taste. “yes, ‘toru. I couldn’t get it off my mind and I wanted to get home as soon as I could to you,” you say, scooting up and away from him. “so how about you let me suck you off first,” you say with a sultry gaze, while getting on your knees.

he does not oppose this and is already leaning back on the headboard. you rest on your tummy and elbows in between the space of his spread out legs, with your legs up dangling in the air. you have a firm grip on the base of his thick cock and start to slowly stroke it. gojo lets out a hum of relief as you continue to use your hands. you look up at his face and his expressions as you experiment with different grip strength and pace. by the time you begin slapping his tip on the flat of your tongue, he already looks so adorably fucked-out. “b-baby, just put it in already,” he says, hands finding your hair and guiding you to his length. in an instant, you have him deep inside your throat where a long moan elicits from his lips. his hips couldn’t help but to buck up into your mouth, face-fucking you. 

focusing on the feeling of his thick cock thrusting down your throat, tears well up in your inner corners as your pussy drools with desire. gojo opens his eyes to take a look at his baby, who is doing her best to pleasure him, and sees your legs squeezing together, hoping for any sort of friction. he slides his slick cock from your mouth. “get on all fours, pretty girl.”  he says, while getting up to his feet and planting them at the edge of the bed. 

your heart is racing with excitement for what’s to come. your ass is high up in the air and your back is in a seductive arch. turning your head back to look at him, you see him pump his dick a few times before aligning himself with your wet entrance. the first thrust has you feeling weak as your form begins to break. “stay with me, baby,” gojo says, while giving you a mixture of fast shallow and deep thrusts to keep you on your toes. 

you can feel his cock buried so deep inside you, hitting your cervix. “r-relax a little, baby, s’fuckin’ tight,” he blurts out, head rolling back as he is catching his breath. gojo’s pace slows down for a bit to control his impending orgasm. growing impatient, you begin fucking yourself back on his dick. his hands grip your hips, knuckles white, trying to control the pace you’re rocking back into him. “b-baby, stop, don’t w-wanna cum yet.” he says, through gritted teeth, muscles all tense. 

“‘toru, just cum, i wanna feel it inside,” you say, rutting back as fast and hard as you could, leaving a creamy white ring at the base of his dick. after those words left your lips, gojo lets go of your hips, allowing you to control the pace as he chases his high. thick ribbony ropes of cum warm up your needy pussy. as he pulls out, his load also pours out. Knowing that he loves this view, you revert back to your original position by arching your ass up and keeping your face down, letting his thick cum run down your pussy and soiling the sheets underneath. “my good girl, ‘m gonna make you feel so good.” he says, massaging your ass, eyes never leaving your cunt. 

he turns you over on your back and pushes his dick inside, hissing at the overstimulation. “mm’ baby, we can take a minute for you to –” gojo interrupts you mid sentence to give you a passionate kiss. your tongues swirling inside as your arms circle around his neck to get him impossibly closer. he pulls away, both of your lips are red and swollen. “just lay back, ‘m gonna take care of my pretty girl.” he says, face only inches away from yours. 

he starts off painfully slow, letting your pussy feel every inch of him in this new positionn. once he bottoms out, he gives a few shallow thrusts just to hear your pussy sing with wet squelches. gojo moves your legs together and throws them over his shoulder as he begins to drill you at an insane speed. this quite literally knocks the air out of your lungs as you begin panting under him, fists grabbing the sheets for some support. he kisses your right ankle and has one arm holding your legs together and the other pressing down on your lower abdomen. a few more thrusts and you can feel yourself coming undone. once he moves his hand to thumb your clit in circles, you immediately cum. he feels your cunt spasming around his dick as he fucks you through it. “‘toru, ‘m cumming, s-so hard,” you say as your hands fly to his shoulders, holding on to him. “let it all out, baby. cum for me,” he says. 

coming down from your high, your eyelids begin to feel like lead. you drift off without even realizing it. you’re awoken with a warm towel against your skin, wiping off the caked essence and sweat on your lower half. “‘toru? ‘m sorry, how long was I out for?” you ask, rubbing your eyes. “just for about 10 minutes. rest a little longer and I'll get you when I’m done cleaning and have started the shower.” gojo was always so good with the aftercare. feeling so loved and cared for, the only thing on your mind was how grateful you are to have him. 

pulling him towards your bare body, you give him a warm hug. “thank you, ‘toru. you always take such good care of me. I love you s’much,” you say breathing in his scent. 

“of course. I’d do anything for my pretty baby.” gojo says, kissing the crown of your head.

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a/n: haha get it.. comfort me.. cum for me.. horny brain is working overtime today.

thanks for reading!

[drvscarlett]

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

Pierre Gasly x ex!reader

Summary: The 4 times that they break up and get back together and that 1 time they didn't.

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: im on a roll with updating the Tortured Drivers Department now that im nearly done with every reqs. I hope you enjoy this and let me know what you think or feel about this

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

"You're not Dylan Thomas, I'm not Patti Smith This ain't the Chelsea Hotel, we're modern idiots"

Pierre and Y/N are the type of people that is confusing to talk about. No one really knows the big deal between the two of them, are they friends or are they lovers? One minute everything is all good, they are about to go to the store and pick out rings then the next thing that you know they already broke up. What was constant was that they always find their way back to each other.

Maybe it’s the lifestyle that makes it work; Pierre is a famous F1 driver that travels the world most of the year while Y/N is a grand recluse of a writer that is trying to find her way to the market. They don’t need much time from each other, and they understand the busy structure of their work.

Maybe its also the fact that they have years of friendship backing them up that's why they were able to last long with each others antics. So, what happened to them?

I.

The first kind of break ups were pretty silly. It was usually something that could be fixed in a matter of hours or a day being away from each other. Its something very random and weird like this.

"Wait, so you are breaking up with me because you are writing?"Pierre was confused.

Pierre had been in relationships before but he has never once heard of someone wanting to break up with him because she has to meet a certain deadline.

He felt very whiplash by the whole situation because she was just kissing him and they were cuddling in bed in the morning. Now she wants to break up with him.

"Yes Pierre, I need to be in my most heartbroken self to write my best lines"Y/N confirms.

"So does this mean that once you finish this thing you are working on then we can get back together?"Pierre clarifies.

Y/N nods as she brings out her working laptop and a notebook.

"So should I say something mean or should I just leave you be to your senses?"Pierre wondered.

"Do you really wanna break up with me so badly?"Y/N had too much of Pierre's question

Pierre raised his hands in defeat.

"Okay then lets break up"

Pierre headed straight back to his room to allow Y/N to work on her things. He chuckles at himself with the weird antics of his girlfriend, (or should he say ex girlfriend) but he busies himself with some emails that he has from work.

It took Y/N two days before she comes crawling to their shared bed. Pierre was in a sleepy state when Y/N snuggled to his arms.

"Are you done?"Pierre wondered.

"Yeah,just passed my manuscript"Y/N agrees.

"Can I call you my girlfriend again?"

II.

Qualifying was extremely difficult today with Pierre taking p15. To make matters worse there was this pressing issue that Pierre might be axed from the team. It honestly frustrated him to the point that he was only doing sim work, training, and more training.

It worries Y/N a great deal especially when Pierre seems so out of it.

"Pierre c'mon get some rest" Y/N begged.

It was already 2 in the morning and there was still a race tomorrow but he insisted on hitting the gyms to train.

"You are going to be exhausted later during the race if you keep doing this"Y/N reminds.

"I don't care, I have to work hard"

"Pierre please listen to me"

"You're the one who is not listening to me"Pierre snaps "Don't you realize that I have the possibility to lose everything that I have worked hard for if they cut me off the team."

Y/N was in shock with the sudden outburst and if Pierre was in his usual self then he would have immediately apologized for raising his tone. But Pierre was far from thinking clearly.

"Pierre that was not nice"

"Nothing is ever nice in this world"scoffs Pierre.

"Look I'm just trying to help you he-"

"You know what, why not just break up with me so I can focus on my thing without anyone nagging" Pierre suggested.

She could feel the tears prickling her eyes and threatening to fall. But her mother did not raise her cry over a stupid boy like this.

"You're really going there huh" Y/N said "See if I care"

With a slam of the door, Y/N was gone and Pierre felt even more antsy than ever. It wasn't the fact that he has a messed up weekend but he has the possibility of messing up a good relationship because of his blind rage.

In a couple of hours despite Y/N implying that she didn't care, she was at the race patiently waiting for the lights to go out. It was difficult for her to just leave Pierre especially when he is in this state of mind.

But of course, Y/N's pride was something that she holds dear that is why she didn't show up to Pierre's garage. It is kind of weird to see the crowd of yellow and black colors but Y/N was so glad that she has Isa by her side to join her during the race.

"Never gets easier to let him go for races huh"Y/N comments as she watched Isa putting on Carlos' helmet.

"Well, I'm sure he tries his best to be careful on the track" Isa smiled.

"Why aren't you giving any pre-race goodluck kisses to Pierre? He might need it" Carlos suggested.

Y/N could just roll her eyes, Pierre wasn't superstitious like that.

"Okay laugh all you want but don't make me say I told you so if he gets involved in an accident"Carlos warns.

"Don't mind Carlos, he is just joking"Isa shrugs it off.

"But Isa, its true remember when-"

"Stop stressing Y/N out Carlos, go race and be safe"

"Aye aye"

Y/N watched the playful interaction before the couple parted ways. The scene struck a chord in her heart because she knew that she could never act that way with Pierre. Their whole relationship was a secret that only the grid knows Y/N is off limits. But outside the grid, no one knows about it. Fans equate them as close friends but never more than that.

"What's on your mind honey?"Isa asked

"Nothing Isa, I'm okay"

Y/N showed a weak smile and Isa was hesitant to press things but she just let friend be.

"Look the race is starting"Y/N diverts.

The sound of the engines filled the air and off the cars go. Y/N watched as everyone gets off with a decent start, she could only hope that there was no incident today especially for Pierre's sake.

Everything happened all of a sudden as white smoke filled the air and a loud collision was heard. The cameras were quick to pan to the accident and the two girls clutched each other's hands as the smoke clears.

"It's Nico, its not Carlos" someone from the garage reassured Isa and the girl could feel a sigh of relief.

However, the same cannot be said to Y/N as the frustrated team radio of Pierre can be heard and the familiar livery was seen in the middle of the wreck.

Any amount of pride or memory of what he said last night was suddenly thrown out of the window. She just wants to know how he is or if he is safe from that tragic collision.

"Y/N, they're going to check on Nico" Isa pointed out to some Renault people "You should probably go since Pierre would be there too"

Y/N was about to deny that she didn't want to see him but Isa had a stern look on her face.

"Just go honey"

And she comes running to the medical bay to look for the injured man. She was a bit thankful that precautions have been made in this sports that allowed drivers to walk away from such accident without major damages.

Maybe, a bruised ego is their biggest worry now.

"Y/N"Pierre was confused to see her.

Maybe the damage has been far more worse than he imagined because he was now seeing things. As far as he could recall, Y/N was not around when the race started. So how is she here?

"God, you scared me P"Y/N wrapped him in a hug.

Pierre was a little bit sore from the crash but there was this instant warm feeling knowing that Y/N didn't abandon him. Even if he was really moody and too shitty, Y/N was still there for him.

He remembers how terrible it was being in that car and thinking that the last memory he shared with Y/N is a bad one. He didn't feel great at all so he held her as if its his second chance.

"I didn't mean what I said last night"Pierre whispered "I'm really sorry for hurting your feelings. I wasn't thinking straight and there is just a lot of pressure-"

"It's okay, I know Pierre"Y/N consoles "I won't be leaving you anytime soon"

A chaste kiss was shared between the two of them, a symbol that they have reunited once more.

III.

The third time they broke up was when Pierre asked her hand for marriage and she didn't say anything.

After being constantly invited to weddings, Pierre is bound to pick up some courage to ask Y/N out. He developed this dream that he wants a life with Y/N and he is ready to take it to the next level. Knowing Y/N, he picked the right size and the perfect ring. He also knows her dream proposal place which is somewhere with a view of the city.

He had everything planned out perfectly so imagine his surprise when she answers.

"Pierre, I can't do this" Y/N dropped the bomb.

"What? Why?"

Y/N felt like an extreme asshole because everything was perfect. Any girl would say yes to this prime opportunity of marrying their childhood bestfriend but Y/N sees through things.

"Pierre we aren't even official to the public and now you want to escalate it to marriage" Y/N reasons.

"So that's it, you don't want to marry me because I can't call you mine in public?"

"It's not just that" Y/N sighs "but our careers are just taking off and we haven't talked about our relationship yet and suddenly were going to go to marriage"

What Y/N saying was valid but Pierre was not listening to any of it. He felt very crushed and he could not think straight at the moment.

"Let's just break up if you can't see a future with me"

"Pierre, you know that's not what I meant"

"Then tell me how would you feel if the person you truly loved didn't want to marry you"Pierre roared.

It was a devastating scene between the two of them. How Y/N wished that she could undo what she said a few minutes ago but she knows that she only means well. A rushed marriage will also lead to rush separation and she will not put herself to that.

"Let's break up then, I think its best if we go our seperate ways for the time being"Pierre concludes.

It took them three long weeks before they got back together. It was due to an intervention by Charles that allowed them to speak again and talk their differences. Pierre has been more understanding now and heard Y/N's point out.

They got back together but it felt like there is a huge crack that took a heavy blow with their relationship.

IV.

Y/N had a terrible day at work with her manuscript being asked to be revised by her publisher. All she needs was a good rest and possibly some cuddles with Pierre. She prays as she twist the doorknob that Pierre was not in his one of his moods.

"Mon amour"Pierre called out "I was waiting for you"

Pierre can cook but it doesn't mean that he does it often. It was a good surprise for Y/N to see the dinner table set with all of her favorite dishes and an array of fresh flowers in a bouquet. She eyes the man warily as she takes a seat

"I didn't miss any important dates, didn't I?" Y/N asked.

"Is it bad that I wanted to do something special for you?"

In other days, she would want to argue about it but for today she didn't want to do any of that. She had no energy to question Pierre's weird behavior and she just wants to enjoy the dinner with him.

It was a lovely dinner but Y/N knows that Pierre was hiding something from her. As she was putting away the plates, she knew that she had to get an answer or she may fall asleep overthinking things.

"What is going on P, I'm actually scared you did something stupid that's why you are buttering me up so much"

Pierre lets out a heavy sigh, they knew each other too well that they can't really keep a secret with each other.

"My PR talked to me today and they wanted to announce a relationship to help my whole image"Pierre confesses.

Articles are very easy to miss but as a writer, Y/N knows how a different usage of an article changes the meaning of the sentence. Pierre used "a" rather than "the" which means he is not referring to their relationship.

"Who is it?"Y/N wondered

"She's a model, her name is Caterina" Pierre explained.

There was a heavy silence in the room as Y/N dried out the dishes. She knew that this was all because she was not very marketable due to her timid personality. She was not even famous for her books so that's another reason. Bottom line, they can't announce her because she seems very different from Pierre and she is not the WAG material.

"How long?"

Y/N was used to this kind of treatment. She felt like she accepted this as long as she can get to keep Pierre at the end of this whole thing. People would think she is crazy but love makes people do crazy things.

"Just 6 months and its over"Pierre answered.

It was also very difficult for Pierre's end. He have tried to lobby that he wanted to announce his relationship with Y/N but he is held by a contract. If he decides to deviate then he might lose his seat.

He knows how difficult it was to ask her for this but he had no choice.

"I'll get packing then and I'll move out in the next few days"Y/N mumbles.

Pierre stopped her for leaving and held her tightly. She instantly melts in his hold and she easily reminds herself why she puts up with all of this.

"I love you, don't you forget that"

The world moved with Caterina being announced as Pierre's girlfriend. However, they didn't know that after 6 months then Pierre is back to Y/N's arms. It was always Y/N and Pierre even if the world can't see it.

V.

It started with a normal dinner reservation.

Y/N has been promised by Pierre that he will take her out for dinner. They both understand that the past few weeks has been tiring for the two of them with the stress of racing, writing, and personal issues. The dinner is a nice way to reconnect with each other.

However, here she was already an hour waiting for Pierre to show up.

The hour goes from two to three and by the fourth hour, she decided that she will just go home. She have felt upset with Pierre before but this was a different kind of upset. It's not something to be fixed by flowers, vacations, or any of those stupid letters he does.

She reaches their shared apartment and started packing her stuffs. Her mind was already made up and this time it was going to last. The relationship was doomed to failure anyways.

And just before she finished packing, Pierre stumbles in.

"Y/N, do you have a schedule tonight?"Pierre asked.

He was met with silence as the writer ignores him.

"Oh c'mon what did I do wrong this time?"Pierre complains "Sit and talk with me Y/N"

Pierre could only stop Y/N by bringing all her packed clothes out of her suitcase. Something that heavily irritated Y/N, which caused her to finally speak.

"Can you just let me pack in peace"Y/N begged.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong"Pierre stops "Do you have a flight somewhere? Maybe I could drive you"

"You don't have to drive me Pierre"

"Then what's going on, I arrive here and you are fuming there-"

"You made me fucking wait four hours"Y/N snapped.

Pierre racked his brains for anything that he missed and he suddenly remembered how he reserved dinner with her. He felt like all the color drained on his face.

"Don't do this, I'll make it up to you Y/N" there was a desperation in Pierre's voice.

"I can't, we can't keep doing this P"Y/N admits it "We keep on breaking up and then making up then we act like this is a healthy relationship. We can't do this"

Strong arms wrapped around Y/N's waist and she could feel the wetness on her shoulders as Pierre buried his face there. It was proving more and more difficult for Y/N to leave him.

"I have to do this P, for you and for me"she remains firm.

"Tell me you don't love me"Pierre refuses to let go.

And Y/N cannot admit that because she knows she will always love Pierre. But she was scared that in loving Pierre so much then she may not have any love left for herself. She doesn't know what to do if she loses Pierre so its best if she will be the one to let go of him first.

"I'm sorry Pierre"

With a heavy heart, she removes the him away from her. She picks up her bags and closes the door. She left without taking a look back at the man she has loved from childhood till now because she knows that the moment she sees him then all form of control she has will evaporate.

And everything was two years ago. Here is Y/N with her third best-selling novel book signing tour. Sometimes she likes to think that she lost Pierre to be able to write the books that made her extremely famous. Most of the times, she wishes it never happened because she would rather have Pierre than these best selling novels.

It was her first time in Europe for work. She was often here to watch and support Pierre from the sideline. She never thought that she will be back in Europe so loved and so adored.

But it seems like destiny has a way of messing things up.

"Hi! What's your name?"she greets the woman in front of her.

Even though it has been a long day, she managed to master the art of keeping a perfect smile. She understands how the fans have been waiting in line for so long and she has to give them the best experience as she signs their book.

"My name is Kika, I'm a huge fan of yours" the woman introduced.

Y/N looked up to take a look at her. Kika had a dazzling smile and has this certain aura that exudes her charmingness. Y/N felt that she should be the one asking for Kika's signature because she looks like a stunning goddess.

"I really love the way you write things and I used to read it with my boyfriend when he is not racing"Kika narrates.

Racing, its been a while since Y/N heard that. She completely cuts off that certain topic ever since she left Pierre.

"Oh that sounds like a fantastic way to bond as a couple"Y/N agrees

"Yeah and actually my boyfriend told me that he knows you. I was actually wondering if he is joking but I figured that maybe he is"

There was this sinking feeling in her heart but Y/N would like to think that she made some friends in the F1 grid so this may be their girlfriend. Or maybe her boyfriend is bluffing.

"He races? In what kind of race"Y/N asked,she was careful.

"Oh he does Formula 1, his name is-"

"Kika mon amour"

Y/N didn't have to hear the voice twice to know who that voice belongs to. She knows that voice very well and she couldn't believe her rotten luck.

"Pierre, we were just talking about you"Kika embraces Pierre.

Pierre was shifting nervously and Y/N suddenly realized that Kika doesn't know anything about the shared history between the two of them.

"Oh so you are Pierre's new girl" Y/N knew how to act "I'm so pleased to meet you and yes I know Pierre from childhood"

"See mon amour, I was not lying"Pierre teased.

"So you do know her, we should definitely set up a lunch or dinner together"Kika exclaimed "I can't believe that my favorite author is your childhood friend"

She has that bright and genuine smile on her face. It was that certain genuineness that Y/N makes her heart crack. Why did she have to be so sweet and kind, its so difficult to fault her of anything.

"Y/N is one of the best authors, I know" Pierre proudly states "She has a way of tugging hearts"

"Indeed she has, I remember that when I first started reading one of your series I was so hooked and I wanted to pattern my dream partner to how you write the character of.."Kika babbles.

And everything felt like fading in the background. But Y/N didn't miss how Pierre was looking at Kika so lovingly and so endearing while Kika was rambling excitedly. The heart that was once healed was getting torn up once more because of what's happening in front of her.

[misshoneyimhome]

Honestly after the Sweden trip, it all gave us smutty ideas lol I know you did something similar blurb about this about Willy but he seems like the type to try to make you squirt as much as he can before his game and riding his face :)

I'm here with you, darling 😏 Did someone mention pure smut without a lot of storyline? 🙃🙊 Naturally, Willy aims to make you squirt! That guy is all about his oral skills, and let's admit it, he's more than just good at it - he knows it too! 😜

Warnings: smut 18+; oral sex (f receiving); mention on unprotected sex (p in v);

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Hungry ⚡️

It was last night when William returned home late from his training session. You were having a dinner night with two of your girlfriends, and with a glass of your beloved rosé in hand after dinner, you were deep in girl talk, relaxing on the sofa.

Amidst the chatter and laughter, William walked in through the front door. He greeted you and your friends with a smile, enjoying the sound of your laughter before quietly heading to the bedroom. He didn't want to interrupt your girls' evening, but as he settled in to play video games in bed, he heard your voice.

"Oh no, Terry was the one who made me squirt once," you had exclaimed, accidentally loud enough for William to overhear.

And it sparked something inside him.

If there was one thing, he was confident about, it was his skill in eating you out.

He could elicit moans, screams, and bring you to climax quicker than he could tie his skates. His beard and lips always ended up soaked in your juices as you writhed under his touch, never staying quiet with his head between your legs.

Yet, despite his best efforts and attempts to use his fingers just right, he'd never managed to make you squirt.

Feeling a tad let down by your words, reminiscing about how you'd been satisfied by your ex, William decided to have a chat with the lads. Normally, they didn’t delve into emotions or relationships much, but discussing the finer details of sex was something they could share among themselves.

So, during their PlayStation session, William took the chance to talk about experiences without mentioning his own lack of success in that department. However, it was interesting to hear how the other guys handled things.

**

The next day was game day.

While you took your time in the bathroom, showering, shaving, doing your hair, and all the rest, William was chilling on the bed, once again engrossed in his NHL PlayStation game.

And walking into the bedroom, you couldn't help but chuckle. There was your boyfriend, as laid-back as ever, sprawled on the bed, completely absorbed in the game, wearing his headphones.

"Aw, come on!" he exclaimed lightly, frustrated at missing a scoring chance in his game. You giggled and cleared your throat, trying to get his attention.

"Babe, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for your match tonight?" you asked, curious.

The team had had a morning training session, followed by a few hours off to relax before the game that evening. But William, true to his casual nature, tended to be a bit too laid-back. He'd come home, snack a little, play a few rounds of PlayStation with his friends, take a shower, then put on some music before heading to the arena.

"In a minute," he said casually, barely looking up at you, eyes fixed on the screen.

"Well, I hope you don't mind if I get ready while you entertain yourself," you chuckled lightly, dropping the towel to the floor. You didn't actually intend to have sex, but you hoped to pique William's interest just a bit.

And you succeeded.

Even though he tried to concentrate on the game, his attention kept drifting back to you. Your perfect curves, round breasts that fit so well in his hands, and your inviting warmth always ready for him.

As you stood there, casting a seductive smirk in his direction, William couldn't resist his desire for you. Blood rushed to his length as he licked his lips, an idea forming in his mind.

Tossing the joystick aside, he turned to you with an intense look. With hungry eyes, he lay back and used his finger to signal you to come closer, a seductive invitation.

And you happily obliged. Even though it wasn't your initial plan, you never refused a good round of bed sheets activity with Willy, even right after a shower.

Gently, you came to straddle him, leaning in, aiming to connect your lips, but he had different intentions. He craved to have his mouth on your other lips.

"Further up, babe," he commanded in a husky voice, and you could almost feel your heat pulsating merely by his words.

"You want to do that now?" you chuckled.

"Mmm hmm," he replied with a flirty wink.

And following his instruction, you moved up slightly, positioning a thigh on each side of his head as your core hovered closer to his face.

William then wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you nearer and bringing your warmth in contact with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck," you breathed out as you felt the sensation of his lips and warm tongue touching the tender skin between your folds. 

You've always loved William's talent and passion for eating you out. Although you couldn't quite pinpoint why he enjoyed it so much, you had no complaints whatsoever.

From the very first time he went down on you, he had a knack for turning you into a delightful mess using only his mouth. And just like tonight, he wasn't afraid of getting a bit messy.

He used his entire mouth to work its magic. His tongue explored you thoroughly, from your entrance all the way to your clit. His warmth mingled deeply with yours as he teased his tongue against your entrance before focusing on flicking your clit and drawing it into his mouth. He made sure you were thoroughly wet, mixing his saliva with your juices, making you unable to hold your cunt back from dripping.

Your moans grew louder as the delightful sensation of an impending orgasm built up, while his beard gently scratched your inner thighs, and his nose nudged just the right spot.

Keeping yourself in place wasn't easy as William voraciously devoured you as if it were his last meal on earth. His eyes gazed intensely up at you as you became a quivering mess above him, your legs gently trembling while you grasped the bed's edges for support.

"Willy," you moaned, closing your eyes, throwing your head back, and arching slightly. 

Your toes tingled as the climax approached, your mind becoming hazy, and your desire overwhelming, eager to release.

And as William sensed your mounting anticipation, he gently hummed against your warmth, prompting a loud moan to escape your lips as you reached your climax.

"Oh yes," you breathed out heavily, allowing yourself to let go as the rush of pleasure surged through your body.

After taking a moment to catch your breath, you tried to shift away from William's face, intending to let him have his turn.

"God, you're so good at that," you chuckled, attempting to move from his grasp. However, William wasn't entirely satisfied with his efforts.

Even though he'd brought you to orgasm, that wasn't his only goal.

As you carefully untangled yourself from his grip, he used his advantage of strength and size to guide you onto your back.

"What are you doing, babe?" you laughed lightly.

"I'm not finished with you yet," William smirked, moving once more to position his head between your legs. This time, you could relax more easily as you bent your knees, allowing him better access while he gently guided your legs open with his broad shoulders.

"Relax, baby. I want you to just let yourself go," he encouraged, his voice was calm and soothing, urging you to just lean in to it.

"Willy, I don't think we've got the time…" you attempted to speak, but his mouth swiftly resumed its attention on your heat. "Oh, shit," you moaned, allowing your body to sink into the mattress, your hands gripping the bedsheet above your head.

Your chest rose and fell erratically as you struggled to control your breathing while William once again sent tremors of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Fuck, yes…" 

William couldn't help but smirk against your core as he continued his ministrations, yet he still hadn't brought you to the point he desired.

With one hand, he slid two fingers into your entrance, gently pushing them inside while continuing to suck on your sensitive bud.

He felt the warmth of your inner walls enveloping his fingers, embracing them tightly as he moved them in and out of you.

"More, Willy," you softly moaned, sensing him stretch you just slightly. And though William understood what you wanted - the desire for his cock deeply inside of you - that wasn't his current intent.

Instead, he persisted with his intense oral attention, simultaneously continuing his fingers’ work.

And he took his time. He aimed to be patient, exploring meticulously to find the spots that elicited those sweet, intense, uncontrollable sounds from you. Those spots that made you squirm beneath him and brought you right to the edge, causing you to writhe and tremble in pleasure.

The intensity was overwhelming, and you felt the onset of your second orgasm. That familiar knot gently tightened in your lower abdomen, your legs starting to tremble while your hand gripped the pillowcase tightly. You shut your eyes and leaned your head back into the pillow.

"Willy, I'm close," you announced, signalling your impending release, but it only spurred him on to drive you completely over the edge.

He had pinpointed just the right angle based on the slight squirm you made when he curled his fingers, finding the perfect spot.

Then, he released his mouth's hold and concentrated solely on his fingers’ movements. He quickened his pace, fervently thrusting his fingers in and out of your sweet warmth.

You once again became the mess he skilfully made of you, but this time, it felt even more intense and overwhelming.

Your entire body shook as William repeatedly hit that incredibly sensitive spot, and your mouth let out a stream of incoherent sounds and curses amid the intense sensations.

"That's it, baby, let go for me," Willy murmured softly, his eyes intensely fixed on you as you cried out under his touch, your soaked core making wet sounds with each pound of his fingers.

Completely undone by his assertive motions, your eyes remained closed, and yet you saw nothing but stars as your body surrendered to him, releasing without warning. A loud moan erupted from deep within your lower abdomen, all the air rushing out of your lungs and past your lips, echoing through the room.

In response to your sounds, your juices gushed from your core, squirting all over William's face, almost giving the sensation of having peed yourself. A complete sense of euphoria enveloped your mind as adrenaline surged through your veins and a flood of serotonin and dopamine took over your brain.

"Fuck, Willy!" you breathed heavily. "Oh, I'm so sorry..." you cried out in embarrassment, realising what had just happened, covering your face with your palms.

But William simply chuckled darkly as he gently withdrew his fingers from your entrance, giving it a few more gentle pumps to help you come down from your high.

"Babe, don't be embarrassed," he offered a light laugh as he gently moved to sit back on his heels, softly removing your hands from your face. "Do you realise how hot that was?"

"Really?" you asked, still feeling a tad self-conscious.

"Fuck yes!" he exclaimed. "Seriously, I've wanted to make you come like that so many times," William confessed, letting out a deep breath.

Having almost settled after your recent climax, you looked at him curiously, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

"Wait… this was like a mission for you?"

Now William had to suppress a smile as he quickly pondered your question.

"Maybe…" he softly replied, flashing you a cheeky grin.

"Oh god, you heard me yesterday when I told the girls about Terry making me squirt once, didn't you?" you chuckled.

"Yes…" he sighed. "But honestly, I've wanted to make you squirt pretty much every time I've gone down on you," he admitted with a light chuckle, gently scratching the back of his head.

You couldn't help but give him a wry grin and shake your head, finding it a mix of amusing and hot at the same time.

"I don't think I have much to complain about, do I?" you smirked at him. "Shit, you're so good at this, babe..."

William chuckled, hovering over you as his face drew closer to yours. You gently reclined back before using your fingers to wipe his face, feeling your own slick juices, then drawing him down for a kiss. Your mouths eagerly met, tongues dancing together, as you savoured the taste of yourself before breaking apart.

"I just love spoiling you," he then remarked.

"Mmm," you flashed him a mischievous smile. "But, now what should we do about this?" you asked with a smirk, your eyes darting downwards to his very hard cock, snugly tucked away in his sweats, clearly yearning for release.

"Hmm, I guess we'll have to wait until later, and then you can take good care of it," he grinned.

While you felt a twinge of disappointment at not having his cock inside you and also sympathised with your boyfriend's need for release, you couldn’t help but also feel a bit overwhelmed by William's intense work on you. So, you simply nodded and let out a small sigh before both of you pushed yourselves up from the bed.

**

William of course played tonight's match with an enormous grin, utterly content with his performance on you before the game. It had given him a surge of confidence unlike anything else, leading to him scoring a hatty for the night.

And as your core began to feel normal again, it was only right to thank him for it once you got home. You didn't even make it to the bedroom before dropping to your knees in the kitchen. And while William could easily have finished just then and there, he chose to have you sprawled on the dining table, deeply thrusting into you, making you moan his name and other sounds once more, before he released and celebrated properly by finishing inside you.

[octuscle]

I've done a few himbo transformations with the Chronivac, but I'm getting tired of being dumb. I want to be smarter without risking some crazy permanent change. Can you make it so I steal 1 IQ point from everyone who's in the same room as me? They can have it back when they leave.

You are a super Himbo. Always in good shape, always horny. And admittedly also a real feast for the eyes. I like your idea. It's a little bit experimental. But let's give it a try.

You're always the first one at the gym in the morning. You love to start your day pumped up. And it's wonderfully empty at this time of day. No smart alecks to make fun of you. You have the body, you have the face. An IQ of 89 is more than enough for an alpha guy like you! Normally you're done with your program by 07:30. That's when the gym usually fills up. Today it's surprisingly full. There's a congress in town, so lots of external guys always come to work out. By around 07:00 there are already a good 30, maybe 35 people training. One of the guys is really cute. You approach him. You talk about all sorts of things and train the next sets together. It's rare to find someone who has a similar political opinion and is interested in both Italian opera and astronomy at the same time. And who looks so awesome at the same time. You'll get a boner. He notices. You say that unfortunately you have to go now and you're going to take a shower. He says that he hopes you'll see each other again sometime. You see each other in the shower four minutes later. Not a soul around. And you fuck the guy like only a man with a bird's brain can.

You like your work as a motorcycle mechanic. Your machines are just as simple as your brain. You understand them. And you're really good at making them look hot and getting the most out of them. And you like to work alone. It's difficult in a team. Some know-it-all is always making fun of you. Pure envy, you think, and flex your muscles. But it does annoy you a little. That's why you prefer to do things in the evening that don't involve talking. Dancing. Fucking. Or go to the movies. Like tonight. "The Beekeeper". It's supposed to be good.

Shit, your head is starting to pound. The movie theater is maybe half full. You do a quick count. Yes, exactly 378 people. 78 percent male. That was to be expected. According to a rough estimate, they all spent a total of 3,117 dollars on Coke and popcorn. One guy went to the loo for the third time. You've noticed 67 things in the movie so far that are illogical. Bored, you take out a cell phone. You surf to the MIT website. A very interesting article from the mathematics department about the Riemann conjecture. By the end of the movie, you've finished the proof.

Fortunately, your favorite pub, where you're having a nightcap, is almost empty. Your buddy at the bar, a handful of the usual regulars. Your cell phone vibrates incessantly. Lots of calls from unknown callers. From cities you've never heard of. Boston, San Francisco, Cambridge in Massachusetts, Cambridge in England. Göttingen. Isn't that in Poland? What do they all want from you? You turn off your cell phone.

The next morning you have 189 missed calls. You check a few messages. But you can't understand a single word they're saying. Something about genius. And a brain that only exists once. Hehehe, you've heard that a lot about your cock. You're going back to the gym. You're late today. Your crush from yesterday is already here. And so are 40, 50 other people. CNN is on the screens. The headlines are about the proof of Riemann's hypothesis. Your crush asks you if you know what it is. You explain it to him and outline your solution. As best you can reproduce it. It's really complicated. Your crush stares at you open-mouthed. "You've proved Riemann's conjecture?“ You grin a little sheepishly.

Shit, this guy has a hot ass and a talented tongue. But why can't he keep his tongue in check? After a few minutes, the first reporter is in your workshop and asks you about this Riemann shit. Tell him to go to hell. A second, a third reporter arrives. They're on the floor laughing as you answer their questions. The weaklings are about to get the shit kicked out of them. In the afternoon, a courier arrives from this Cambridge, which is not in England. With a letter. An invitation to a ceremony. Whatever that is. And then there's a check inside. A check for a million dollars.

You like airports. A place where you can do sociological studies. You also really enjoyed the flight. The documents that the mathematical institute in Cambridge sent you are very interesting. But you see a few inconsistencies that you would like to discuss. A driver is waiting for you at the airport. You take a deep breath when you are finally out in the fresh air. It's funny, there's a guy holding a board with a name just like yours on it. You walk up to him. "Mr. Wood?" he asks a little incredulously. "Hehehe, someone must have given us that name one early morning. Do you understand, dude? And by the way, my name is Al." Curt is a cool dude. You get to sit up front and talk about football and stuff. Curt lifts iron too. He recommends a good gym near the hotel and campus. Then he tells you stuff like you can freshen up if you want. Then the dean would like to meet you for a private lunch in private. And then the prize will be officially presented in the setting. Then there is also time for your speech. You say that you smell like a real man and don't need to freshen up. And you ask what a dean does and what the hell the speech is all about. Curt grins.

The dean wipes the sweat from his brow. The food tastes quite good, but you would have preferred an honest burger. You don't understand a word of the stuff the old geezer is talking about. He keeps mumbling something about a catastrophe. You ask yourself why you're wearing that stuffy shirt. It would actually be cool right now to just wear a tank top with all the nerds and show off your muscles. Dinner is finally over. The dean, or whatever his name is, stands up and asks you to follow him. You walk towards a really cool looking building, which is called Kresge Auditorium. Funny name. You enter the hall, which is packed with dozens of people, all of whom are beaming with joy at you. The dean waves you off, pulling you along behind him. You are standing in a huge lecture hall where hundreds of people are already waiting. More and more people stream in behind you. The dean asks you to keep your mouth shut for God's sake. Then he gives his opening speech. He gives a somewhat twisted rendition of the essence of Riemann's conjecture. But as far as you know, he's not a mathematician either… The dean ends with the words "…. And yet this man has obviously proved one of the biggest problems in mathematics. Mr. Wood, would you like to say something?“ You interpret his gestures as him asking you to just shut up. But you're here to chat about math. You stand at the lectern. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is a great honor for me to speak to you today in this magnificent building. I assume that you are familiar with my remarks on the Riemann conjecture. I don't want to bore you with that either. Let's talk about another interesting topic instead, the P-NP problem." The dean faints.

Shit, the day was really exhausting. You're so happy when Curt finally drives you to the hotel. It's already late, but you still want to make your muscles burn. So you make your way to the gym. There's hardly anyone here at this time of night. One guy looks nice and really hot. You chat a bit. You train together. You both end up in your hotel room and fuck the rest of your brains out. Ian says that you absolutely have to come to Springbreak.

Fuck, Ian was so right. Spring break is awesome! The weather is incredible. Eating, drinking, working out, fucking, partying, all outdoors. You're one of the stars here. Because of your body and your cock. Certainly not because of your head. Hehehe, the 200,000 dollars that you've already spent here from your prize money has certainly contributed to your reputation. The party is in full swing. Suddenly the sky darkens and a thunderstorm with hail breaks out. The party people stream into the hotel lobby. And you flow with them. One of about 400 wet, muscular bodies. You take a quick look around. 423, to be precise.

[purelyfiction]

Barely Even Over. - Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x F!Reader

Word Count: I don’t know, I’ll update this when I’m off mobile

Summary: You’ve never been good with complacency. You’ve nearly broken it off four times with Bradley before, feeling trapped and needing to run. You don’t know why it happens, or why you feel so compelled to escape. This time, you can’t get past it. What had always been passing conversation has been a full production. You’re nearly to the curtain close when the entire thing is derailed by a very agitated pilot on your front porch.

Content Warning: lots of cursing, lots of angst, potential trigger for anxiety

Author’s Note: I’ve been obsessed with this song by Drake Milligan and I couldn’t get this out of my brain. Also!! Rooster content? In 2024? Wow. - unedited, unbeta’ed we die like idiots.

God, you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of here. The fact that it was almost eleven o’clock at night and someone was pounding at your door was one of the countless reasons you’d put in a transfer request.

The main reason you were leaving stood on the other side of your open door.

Bradley stands, dripping wet from the monsoon that’s raging outside (you’d heard it from the wind and the pelting rain on your window), the most vicious look on his face. You spot the equally soggy piece of paper you’d shoved in his mailbox this morning in his hand.

“You really thought you could just drop this off and bolt out of town without a word?” He shakes the wet mangled letter around, a drop of water flinging to the tip of your nose. When he starts into it, you’re pushing the door shut, regretting not checking the peephole before you tugged the door open. Rooster’s hand grabs the edge of the wood before you can get too far, pushing his body weight into it to keep it ajar.

“Or that I had to hear from Hangman of all people that he saw a moving truck taking your shit?” You turn and enter into the empty apartment, trying to avoid this conversation. That was the point of the letter, the point of no contact the last few hours. You were about five hours from departing San Jose and never coming back. Bradley slams the door shut as he follows you inside.

“Jesus, wake all the neighbors while you’re at it Bradshaw.” You groan, stepping into your bathroom to do a mindless check that everything had been packed. That you weren’t forgetting anything.

“Fuck the neighbors, Gemstone! You were going to just fucking ghost me? Ditch me without a goddamn word?” You can hear the pain singe his voice. A normally smooth and entertained gruff is resentful and burned instead when he speaks to you. He follows you as you move to the kitchen to do one last once over, averting this onslaught as much as you could. “Drop a shitty letter in my mailbox to dump my ass, ignore my texts, decline my calls - not a single word from you! What the fuck??”

“I’m being restationed, Rooster, it’s not-“

“Oh bullshit!! Mav told me the truth! You fucking requested the transfer! You thought you could sneak away without witnessing the storm you’re fucking making! Just dropping all your ties and escaping -“ he huffs and the paper in his hand is crumbled into a wet lump, then slammed at a nearby wall. So much for your security deposit. “You are always looking for an out. For a reason to leave California- the navy- me. As if the last three years were so fuckin’ miserable that you needed to just vanish. Like nothing ever happened.” Bradley is seething with each curse and vent that exists his lungs.

You’ve run out of cabinets to check. Out of options to avoid looking at him. So when you finally do, you see the mustached man shaking slightly from the temperature of the cold water clinging to him via a damp Hawaiian shirt. The way his eyes locked to you with seething hurt, a brokenness you couldn’t comprehend.

He wasn’t supposed to get home from his training in Atlanta until tomorrow. You were supposed to disappear. Jake and his big fucking mouth. Before you can say anything, Bradley turns to face you fully, brows pushing downward as if it would expel the anger out.

“Three years. Fucking three years and you think you can step out like this. Without a word, without giving a rhyme or a reason - leaving in the middle of the night - without a clue you were even considering this?? Buying fucking plane tickets behind my back?? Packing your entire god damn life up without a notion of the feelings of people around you - of your fucking boyfriend? You didn’t think to have the decency to break up with me to my face??” His hand points to the slop against the wall that had been your letter. His notice of termination so to speak. “The fact you couldn’t say it out loud- couldn’t face any of this at the face value means you don’t actually want to do it. You don’t want to do it, you’re just scared. You’re scared of the same surroundings, the same job, the same city, the same house, the same person, Gem. That’s what you are. Always leaving so you don’t get hurt when you get freaked out.” The register of his words is loud, but not nearly as loud as the next round of spitfire.

“If we’re gonna break up you’re gonna do it now! You’re gonna say what you put on that god damn piece of paper to my fucking face! That you never loved me, that you’ve been hanging on to a lie! That you can’t stand to stay in this god forsaken city a single second more! You don’t get to just leave and not see this!!” He points to his expression. “The mad! The angry, the rejection and betrayal! If you’re gonna do it you’re gonna do it to my face!” Finally, finally, Bradley takes a shaking breath, turning away to try to collect himself.

“Bradley, I didn’t want to do this like this for a reason-“ he spins. There are tears rolling down his face.

“Fuck, I love you.” The stinging sensation starts. The familiarly ominous feeling that sinks in and starts to eat at you every time you’ve had this conversation. “You loved me. I know you did. At some point you did, I know you did and you can’t lie to me and say you didn’t.” The hot tears are barely breaking surface tension along your lash line. “Don’t leave me like this, Gems. Don’t- cause I won’t-“ he hovers in his words, “I think I deserve at least a bad goodbye. Not some letter full of lies hit you don’t mean. Some pathetic attempt at closure is better than whatever the fuck this is. This, this, sorry excuse for a break up.” His feet come sinking toward you as he reaches out. You don’t back away.

His hand takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, his other hand coming to wipe your own tears in the hollow room. “I can take hellfire. I can take screaming, shouting, shit, you can hate me if you have to, honey.” It’s so fractured, his voice. Strained from shouting, tainted with emotions he clearly hasn’t come to understand yet, “just… don’t leave me like this. Still so in love with you. Still wanting to see your face when I wake up every day, to curl into you and avoid the world a little longer- still wanting to fix that damn car with you,” you stifle a laugh, despite the gravity of everything, “still completely and utterly adoring you. Don’t leave me loving you. Please, Gems, don’t.”

The two of you grow quiet, Rooster’s hand still clutching to yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. He pulls you in, lips pressing to your forehead. He stays there as a soft cry that moves through his chest, tears dampening your hair as the two of you stand there in the cruelty of your wake.

[adrienneleclerc]

The Start of it All

Pairing: Walter Marshall x Hispanic!Reader

Summary: The day Y/N started working in Walter’s district and called him “Don Refri” for the first time

Warning: Masterlist pinned on my blog, it’s probably short.

A/N: i wanted to create a fanfic universe so it’s a series of one shots that take place in the same universe. Like a multi part series without the commitment which is literally PERFECT for me. If you have any ideas of what you want to see take place in this universe like in Walter and Y/N’s relationship, let me know!

Walter was in his office with the commissioner wanted to talk to him.

“What is it? Is there something wrong?” Walter asked.

“There’s nothing wrong, I found a new records clerk.” Harper told him.

“Do we really need a glorified secretary? We’ve been handling the files just fine, Harper.” Walter said.

“The time you spend creating police reports could be used actually solving cases. Whether you like it or not, a records clerk will be here. You can’t do everything on your own, she starts tomorrow.” Harper said, walking out of Walter’s office.

Walter sighed, running his hand through his hair. He knows he had no reason to be mad that a new person would come work here. He just felt that a new person would ruin the flow of things. He won’t know until he meets her though.

Y/N moved to Saint Paul 3 weeks ago and she finally got a call about the job she applied for. She moved from Miami to Quantico for FBI training but when failed the physical assessment, even after weeks of training, she decided to move to Minnesota. Why Minnesota? Who knows, she’s not use to the cold, but it was a nice change of scenery. She managed to get a nice studio apartment with her savings from working as a receptionist in Miami. She applied as a records clerk for the Saint Paul Police Department, Western District (I’ve been researching, they don’t organize the police department by precincts, only few cities do), and she got it! Now she was talking to her Miami bestie.

“Why did you choose Minnesota instead of staying there in Virginia? Do you know how cold it’s going to be once it hits winter?” Her bestie, Melissa, said.

“I know, I know, ni me lo recuerdes, but I’ll be making more money here than in Florida.” Y/N said.

“Fine, what are you going to wear for your first day on the job?” Melissa asked.

It was the next day, Y/N was putting professional clothes to make a good first impression. She decided to leave her hair down and drove to the station. Once she found parking, she entered the precinct and saw five people standing by the cubicles.

“Good morning, Y/N, we spoke on the phone, I’m commissioner Harper, these are our technicians, Matthew and Glasgow, profiler and psychologist, Rachel, and our best detective, Walter.” Harper introduced everyone to Y/N, shaking everyone’s hands respectively.

When Y/N went to shake Walter’s hand, she felt a little spark when they touched. They made eye contact and thoughts that were running in their heads were less than professional. Y/N thought about how it would feel to run her hands through his hair or having his firm hands touch her body. Walter was thinking about how it would feel to kiss her and what sounds she would make when doing so. Maybe having a new person in the precinct won’t be so bad after all.

“It’s very nice to meet everyone, can’t wait to start working here.” Y/N said with a smile. Harper showed Y/N where her cubicle was and she settles down.

Walter watched Y/N for a whole before heading to his office. The morning was pretty calm, when Walter entered the break room to grab his lunch, he saw Y/N eating her lunch, talking to Rachel at the table like they were old friends. He stood by the counter to eat his sandwich.

“So what’s the story of the detective?” Y/N asked quietly.

“He’s a good detective, but he’s closed off, kind of a grouch, we call him detective grumpy but obviously not to his face. I mean, I understand why he’s closed off, I’ve seen the photos of the cases he works, it’s brutal. I can’t imagine actually being there in person.” Rachel said. Y/N looked back at the detective and looked away.

“I Can see that too, but I think it’s better to talk it out, a desahogarte.” Y/N commented. “Bottling up your feelings can’t be good in the long run.”

One night, Y/N and Walter stayed late at the district because they cracked a big case so Y/N is doing the paperwork for it right now. It was kind of quiet so Y/N decided to break the silence.

“So, Detective Marshall, what got you interested in working in homicide?” Y/N asked. Walter looked up from a file he was reading to look at the woman.

“Am I required to answer?” Walter asked.

“You don’t have to answer, I was just trying to make conversation seeing as we’re here, alone.” Y/N commented. Walter rolled his eyes.

“I was on SWAT before, then I switched to homicide.” Walter said.

“Why did you make the switch?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t want to talk about this, just finish your work.” Walter said, looking back at the file, reviewing Y/N’s work.

“Whatever you say, Don Refri.” Y/N commented and Walter looked back at Y/N, seeing her slightly smirk.

“What did you just call me?” Walter asked.

“It’s ‘mister fridge’ in Spanish. Since you’re kinda closed off, you don’t talk, you don’t let what you’re feeling be known. You have a poker face all the time, it’s good when you’re interrogating a perp, but it’s not so good for the soul. You’re kinda cold as well, so until you learn to express your feelings in a positive way and not bottle them up, you will be Don Refri, okay? Okay.” Y/N said as she continued typing. “I wanted to be an FBI profiler before coming here. I was in Quantico and everything, I was training for weeks but when it finally came to the physical assessment, I couldn’t do it. I failed the times 1.5 mile run and got a stress fracture. So now I’m here. But I don’t think I want to become a cop.” Y/N shared and Walter just hummed. “In my culture we’re very family oriented. I moved from Miami, I’m far away from my friends and family, I’m all alone. Since I’m reporting to you, I thought we could at least be friendly towards each other, guess not. I finished, look it over, I’m leaving.” Y/N said as she packed up her stuff to leave.

Walter felt like an asshole. He could at least replied or act interested in what she was saying.

The next morning, Y/N entered the station and when she walked to her cubicle, she saw a little box of chocolate chip cookies with a sticky note that said “Sorry -Don Refri” and that made Y/N smile.

Although Y/N really wanted a relationship with Walter, being friends with him seems like a step closer to the right direction.

The End

Taglist: @shellyshellshell

Hope y’all liked it! I did my research about the Saint Paul police department to make it accurate, and hopefully I gave Y/N a good background since I put in the first installment that she doesn’t do the cold, I made her be from a warmer state. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[cutecurly-hair]

Hearts Unleashed (Part 1)

Pairing: Nick Nelson x Black!fem!reader

Warning: Fluff, Smut in later chapters, Body Shaming

Words: 2234

Please interact and comment to keep it going. I always love to know what you think.

"What does this mean?" I stared at the piece of paper clutched tightly in my hand. My mom's eyes held an unmistakable unease as she replied, her voice tinged with worry, "This is our plane ticket to England."

Excitement bubbled up inside me as I glanced at the tickets. "We're going to England for a vacation! I had a feeling this year would be different. Do you think we can visit Paris while we're there? I heard it's just a quick train ride away."

My mom chuckled nervously, her laughter quivering. "That's the thing, honey, this isn't just a vacation; it's permanent."

My brows furrowed as I examined the ticket more closely, finally noticing the bold "ONE WAY" printed in the upper right corner. "What do you mean, one way?" Confusion washed over me, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

"It means we'll be officially moving to England. I applied for a new job there, and I got it," my mom explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She saw the panic in my eyes and hurriedly added, "I understand it's sudden, but I think this will be a great change for us. I've even found a fantastic school with an amazing film program that I know you'll love."

My mind raced. "I don't even know what to say. Why are you telling me this now?" My whole life was here in America, and the idea of packing up and moving to another country was almost too much to bear.

"Honey, I know it's sudden, but they called me today, and they need me to start immediately. That's why we have to leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow! I don't even have time to pack, let alone say goodbye to my friends. We can't just uproot ourselves from LA and head to England." I looked around our apartment, a cozy haven that had been my home for the past seven years. It felt like things were finally getting back to normal.

I glanced at the ticket again and saw the fine print: Departing from LAX tomorrow at 10:45 am. "I should really start wearing my glasses," I muttered under my breath.

My mom tried to reassure me, "Everything will work out fine. I've hired movers to come during the week and help ship the rest of our stuff. Tonight, all we need to do is pack our personal things and head to the airport first thing in the morning."

I felt like I wanted to argue, but then I saw how tired my mom looked. Her face seemed really worn out, and she had a tired look in her eyes. It made me realize that maybe I hadn't been paying enough attention to how she was feeling lately.

I decided not to bring up my concerns because I didn't want to make things worse. I didn't want to fight with my mom when she already seemed so tired and stressed. So, I chose to keep quiet and let it go for now, even though I still had my worries.

As we stepped off the plane in London, the dark grey skies clouded my vision, and the unfamiliar air filled my lungs. Instantly, I began to miss home. With half of my life packed away in two large suitcases and three duffel bags, this was definitely going to take some getting used to.

"Have your other bags arrived yet?" my mom asked, her eyes darting to the time on her wrist.

"Sorry for making you wait," I replied with a sigh. "When you're packing your whole life into a bag, it tends to take a while." I was far from being in a good mood after only managing to grab a couple of hours of sleep, spending one of them writing an overly dramatic paragraph to my friends about where I'd be for the next few years.

"There's no need to get sassy with me, Y/n," my mom chided. "I'm just worried about the time. I don't want to be late for the shuttle. If we miss this one, the next won't be for another three hours. And I'm sure you don't want to spend that much time at the airport."

Before I could respond, I spotted my color-coded bags moving slowly along the conveyor belt. I collected them and loaded them onto a trolley, then couldn't help but add a mockingly sweet tone, "Now, we can go."

My mom led the way to the shuttle, looking a bit lost in the bustling airport. She approached a stranger for directions, and I listened intently, realizing I needed to get used to the distinct accent. My mom thanked the stranger urgently, and we hurriedly made our way to catch the shuttle, leaving behind the life I'd known in America.

Arriving at our new home in England I couldn't help that there was a mix of excitement and trepidation. I had seen pictures of the place, but it was entirely different to stand in front of it, knowing that it was going to be our home for the foreseeable future. My mom, ever the optimist, had put in tremendous effort to ensure it was the best flat on the block.

As we approached the building, I noticed the quaint charm of the neighborhood. Rows of terraced houses with colorful front doors lined the cobblestone streets. It was a far cry from the sunny, palm tree-lined avenues of Los Angeles that I had called home.

My mom had informed me earlier that her new job had provided relocation money, and she had spent hours researching and visiting potential flats to find one that met all our needs. She was determined to make this transition as smooth as possible for me, especially since I wasn't exactly thrilled about changing schools.

The flat itself was a cozy two-bedroom apartment on the top floor of a charming Victorian building. It had large windows that let in plenty of natural light, and I could see the spires of an old church in the distance. The living room had plush sofas, and I could just imagine the walls being adorned with artwork from home. She had even managed to find a flat with a small balcony where we could enjoy tea on sunny afternoons.

As we stepped inside, I couldn't help but be impressed by how homely it felt, despite being in a foreign country. My room, though smaller than what I was used to, had a window overlooking the quiet street below. I packed some of my posters and photographs from our life in LA, making it feel like a small piece of home.

As I unpacked my belongings, I couldn't help but reflect on the whirlwind of changes that had brought us here. My parents' divorce had been a long and sometimes painful process, but with me finishing up middle school, it seemed like the right time for a fresh start.

In my mom's perspective, this move was a chance for something new and exciting, a way to turn the page on a difficult chapter in our lives. But for me, I felt like I was just along for the ride, caught up in the decisions made by the adults in my life. It wasn't easy to accept that we were starting over in a completely different country.

While I tried to look on the bright side, I couldn't shake the feeling that my mom should have told me about it much sooner. The truth was that I was still deeply hurt and confused.

But as I glanced out the window of our new flat and saw the quaint streets of our new neighborhood, I knew that, in time, I would find my place in this new chapter of our lives. Change might not come overnight, but I was determined to make the most of it and find the silver lining in our fresh start.

—-----

A whole week had passed, and I swear my boredom had reached Olympic levels. Our furniture from LA finally showed up a few days ago, and let me tell you, I became the world champion of room redecorating in record time. But apart from that impressive feat, my life had all the excitement of a cardboard box. School isn't kicking off until Monday, which gives me a gentle nudge that I should probably check out the film program my mom's been raving about. 

Feeling all organized and responsible, I sat down and sketched out the route from our place to the school. It's like a 20-minute walk, which I can totally handle once I get the hang of it. But if I'm feeling a bit lazy (which happens, like, all the time), there's a nifty 10-minute bus ride option. Plus, my mom's still knee-deep in paperwork to send our car overseas, so it's official I'm becoming a bus pro.

Then I checked out the school's website, and the film program doesn't look half bad. They've got this YouTube channel packed with short films that are more interesting than binge-watching cat videos. And here's the real kicker they've got a partnership with Netflix! I mean, seriously, how did they manage to pull that off? They're talking about workshops and internships, and I'm just here thinking,

"Who's the magician that got Netflix on board?" That seriously is impressive.

Looking out of the window, I couldn't believe my luck the sun was actually shining for once! After days of nothing but gray skies, it felt like a small miracle. I was starting to understand that sunny days were a rare commodity in this place. So, I thought, why not make the most of it while I could?

I swapped out my usual outfit for a pair of comfy shorts and a cool graphic tee. In a flash, I was out the door, ready to savor every bit of that precious sunshine.

As I continued my stroll through the neighborhood, I stumbled upon a charming park nestled amidst the houses. The sunlit meadow was dotted with people, and what caught my eye was the number of folks out and about with their dogs. It was becoming evident that this was definitely a big dog-loving community, and the park was their social hub.

I watched as playful pups frolicked, tails wagging with unbridled enthusiasm, and their owners chatted amicably, forming a tight-knit community within the community. It felt heartwarming to witness such camaraderie, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight.

I stumbled upon the perfect photo opportunity, one that would fit perfectly in my collection. I'd forgotten my camera at home, but my trusty phone would have to do. As I aimed to capture the moment, an unexpected collision sent my phone tumbling to the ground.

Before I could get a word out, the other person beat me to the punch. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going," he said, hastily bending down to retrieve both of our phones. It turned out he had dropped his phone as well.

I felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up. "No, no, it's alright. It was my fault for standing right in the middle of the walkway," I replied, cheeks tinged with a hint of red.

He handed back my phone with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Hopefully, it didn't crack," he said, his own cheeks taking on a shade of pink.

I shook my head, trying to conceal my own embarrassment. "No big deal. You might have done me a favor, actually. It's about time I got a new phone, and this could be the perfect excuse," I quipped, waving my phone playfully. The boy chuckled warmly.

"Thanks for not making me feel awful about it," he admitted, appearing relieved. "I'm Charlie, by the way." He extended his hand, and I shook it with a friendly smile.

I responded, "I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Charlie." The friendly atmosphere that had enveloped us earlier seemed to dissipate, leaving an awkward silence in its wake.

Charlie finally broke the silence, his voice tinged with shyness. "Sorry, but I can't help but notice the accent..."

I smiled, realizing his curiosity. "Oh yeah, I'm from America. We just moved here last week, right down the block," I stated, hoping to ease the awkwardness.

Charlie's eyes lit up with excitement. "Right down the block! I live right down that way." I couldn't help but feel my own excitement grow.

"I live where the new flats were built, I think they're called the Avalone Suites or something," I mentioned. Charlie's face instantly lit up with recognition.

"I live right across from you! Everyone around the block has been raving about the new building," he exclaimed,

As Charlie and I walked back to my apartment, he chatted animatedly about the neighborhood, sharing tidbits about the local shops, nearby parks, and the best places to grab a bite. It was clear he was friendly and genuinely excited to have a new neighbor.

During our conversation, we made another delightful discovery – we were both going to the same school. It was a pleasant surprise that eased my earlier concerns about not knowing anyone in this new place.

By the time we reached my apartment building, Charlie had almost talked my ear off, but I didn't mind one bit. With a warm smile, I turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me back, Charlie. I guess I won't be starting school completely alone."

Charlie grinned in response; his eyes filled with genuine friendliness. "Anytime, Y/N. I'm looking forward to seeing you at school."

We added each other on each other's socials before we parted ways.

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/cutecurly-hair/727972531449020416/hearts-unleashed-part-2?source=share

[swissboyhisch]

The Aussie Snack Experience

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Aussie!Reader

Summary: As a marketing idea, you get to feature in a video with Nico trying snacks from your home country.

Word Count: 1637

Warnings: Alcohol. A little bit of an AU as Devs and Rangers aren't apart of the global series.

A/N: Another to the Nico x Aussie!Reader series

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

You had been missing home a little and asked your family to send a box of Australian snacks and drinks. Unsurprisingly, your parents sent you multiple huge boxes, much bigger than you had ever expected. Lollies, biscuits, chocolate. Soft drink, alcohol, milo. So many things from your childhood. Luckily you had a whole team of hockey players you could share with. 

When the news had gotten to Anna in the Media department about your delivery, she asked you if you were willing to do a video with Nico. Apparently the idea of Nico trying Australian snacks and drinks was a good marketing idea. Especially since New Jersey was one of the teams just announced as a part of the Global pre-season games in Melbourne.

For once, you accompanied Nico to the arena one this day with your boxes of Australian stuff in the back of the car. Jack had picked you both up. Meaning he got roped into help carrying the boxes into the room where Anna had set up the video production. You two were setting up while the boys had morning skate. 

“Did your parents actually send you all this?” Anna questioned as she unpacked the drinks box.

You hummed as you pulled out the little bags of different flavours of Shapes. So many things. “Yeah, I was feeling a little homesick. Missing some snacks.”

“And even alcohol?”

“Yep!” You respond as Anna holds up a four pack of cruisers. “Those are my favourite. They sent me a heap of them thankfully.”

As training neared the end, you prepared the fairy bread. The slices of white bread slathered with butter and the Hundreds & Thousands on top. The perfect kids party food. Anna had set up a table of food off camera. As you and Nico would sit in frame, Anna would bring one plate of food or a drink for us to try. Well Nico to try.

“Heya babe,” Nico hummed, coming to join you on the couch. His hair was wet from his shower. All shaggy just like you liked it. 

“Hey sexy.”

A flush coloured his cheeks at the comment. Nico pressed a kiss to your cheek as the media crew set up the equipment. Majority of it was done, just final touches before you all started the shoot. Nico was going to start off the video with a little welcome.

“Hi, my name Nico Hischier and I’m here with my Australian girlfriend (Y/N),” Nico starts off. “As preparation for the Global series in Melbourne, (Y/N) has brought in a heap of Australian snacks for me to try. Some I may have already had, some I haven’t.”

“I tried to make it so it’s mostly the ones you have,” You add.

Nico waved over to Anna, “Anna is going to bring in the snacks for us.”

“Snack one!”

Anna brought over a plate of Tim Tams, just the plain ones. You got excited at the sight. Since receiving the box, you haven’t actually eaten anything so you couldn’t wait.

“I’ve had these!” Nico exclaimed happily, immediately grabbing one and takinging a bite.

You follow his actions, taking a bite from the biscuit and savouring the taste. “Do you remember what they’re called?”

“Uhhh, Tim Tams yeah?” You clap happily, giving him a smooch on the cheek as a reward. He laughs, “Is that my reward, a kiss for every right guess on what they’re called?”

“That wasn’t a part of the plan but I guess we could fit that in.”

The next thing was a glass of milk which confused Nico. Anna put two glasses down before the pair of you. You knew exactly what it was for and it was something you haven’t done since you were a child.

“Uh…”

You laughed, “Time of a Tim Tam Slam.”

“You’ve never told me about this,” Nico argues.

Without telling him anything, you grab another biscuit and bite the two opposite corners. You dunk it a little in the lactose-free milk and suck like it’s a straw. Nico just watched on, confused as hell. 

“It makes it taste like chocolate milk,” You reveal, nodding for Nico to try his own. 

You watched as the Swiss tentatively bit off the corners and sucked up the milk. His eyes widened when he tasted the milk. 

“That tastes really good,” He comments.

You nod in agreement, “Now bite the Tim Tam.”

To you, the best part of the Tim Tam Slam was eating the biscuit after. The mushy biscuit. Sounds gross but it was so good. Anna brings out the next snack which is fairy bread.

“Is this the fairy bread?” Nico asks, examining the plate.

“The best party food of all time.”

“Isn’t a children’s party food?” 

You scoff, “I had this at my 18th birthday party thank you very much.”

Nico was tentative when he picked up a slice of bread. Spilling the Hundreds & Thousands over his lap. You giggled, taking your own piece and taking a bite. It took you back to your birthday where you and your best friend just ate the whole plate while drinking cruisers and cob loaf.

“Can we have a drink to wash this down?” You ask, smirking at Anna.

That was the code word you had sorted out earlier for Anna to bring out two of the cruisers. Both of them are your favourite flavour, Zesty Lemon & Lime. Nico saw them before they made it into frame. He lit up, having had Cruisers before as you loved drinking them when you went home for the off season. 

Nico immediately grabbed one, as did you, and clinked glasses. He took a sip happily. “These are Vodka Cruisers.”

“Like White Claws but better,” You add, taking another swig. 

“Lemon and Lime is probably the best flavour,” Nico comments.

You grin, “You take after me.”

Nico grabbed your legs, lifting them to rest them over his lap. You two made yourselves comfy which Anna loved. The fans were going to eat this up. Nico liked to keep you hidden, to himself. But this was a gold mine of content. 

“Do you have any Shapes on that table?” Nico asks, peering over behind the camera. 

At the request, Anna brings over multiple little bags of all the flavours of Shapes. Nico immediately went for the Pizza flavour. It was your favourite too. Then the door opened revealing Jack Hughes and Dawson Mercer.

“Snacks?” The youngest asked, heading straight for the table.

Anna suspected this would happen at some point. The team couldn’t help themselves but annoy whoever was on media duty. “If you want snacks, go sit with (Y/N) and Nico in front of the camera and introduce yourselves.”

Both of the boys excitedly sat in front of the couch like little kids. Your hand came to pat Jack’s head while Nico flicked the back of Mercer’s head.

“Seriously you two?” Nico huffed. 

“Leave them,” You laugh, nodding to Anna to bring out more snacks.

“Hi! My name is Jack Hughes and this is Dawson Mercer. We’re joining our parents to try Australian snacks from Mum’s home country.”

Dawson nodded, “What he said.”

The next to be brought out to the table was a bowl of favourites. Jack grabbed the Crunchy, Dawson grabbed a Flake, Nico went for a Boost and you grabbed a Picnic. Jack opened his, making the flakes of chocolate land all over his lap. Dawson just pissed himself laughing at his friend.

“They’re your favourite, yeah?” Nico asked, nodding to the chocolate in your hand. Trying to ignore the children in front of you two.

You nod, taking a bite. “Behind Chomps.”

“Chomp?” Jack questions.

At those words, Anna threw a couple bars of Chomp at you guys. You and Nico both caught yours but watching Jack and Dawson getting hit in the head cracked the you guys up. Jack looked like a deer in the headlights when he felt the bump before it landed in his lap. You didn’t waste any time though. Tearing into the bar and biting at the crunchy, caramel, wafer and chocolate treat. 

“Yo these are great,” Jack stated, chewing still.

You slap him up the back of his head, “Eat with your mouth closed Jackson!”

“My name isn’t Jackson,” he argued.

“Don’t argue with Mum.”

Nico rolled his eyes, “Love that we just suddenly have kids.”

You just picked up your cruiser again and skulled it. It’s better to deal with these two when drunk. Anna finally stopped laughing long enough to bring out lamingtons. Jack didn’t bother waiting, going immediately for the food. 

“What’s this?” Dawson asked you. 

You take one and offer it to Nico. He smiled, taking a bite of the dessert then pressing a little kiss to your lips. You hum at the taste coating your lips. 

“A chocolate lamington,” Nico answers for you.

In response to his words, you press a kiss to his cheek once more. “Neeks is right.”

“You guys want to wrap it up?” Anna suggests to you. 

Jack and Dawson weren’t even paying attention anymore, Just grabbing at the different snacks on the table. Luckily Jack was driving you and Nico as you both had drunk a couple cruisers through the duration of the filming. It wasn’t a game day which was why he was allowed to drink. 

You decided to do the outro as the two younger boys didn’t give a shit about the video. Nico was being clingy, holding you to him. “Thanks for watching me feed the boys Australian snacks. Make sure you guys come see the boys play against the Rangers in Melbourne on the 23rd and 24th of September. You may even catch a glimpse of me somewhere in the stadium. Peace out.”

“Bye!” The boys shout, waving at the camera. “See you in Australia!”

TAGLIST:

@findapenny @mp0625 @hischierhaze @11zegras @lvrzegras @francesfarhadi @cixrosie @daisysthings @jayrami3

[theladyofbloodshed]

Be Consumed By The Flame - Chapter 8

Night after night, they were locked in the other’s arms. Sometimes, Lucien would be exhausted from gathering intel and delivering messages across Prythian and beyond. On those nights, Nesta would nudge him gently to rouse him from the couch and they’d simply curl up together in a deep, restful sleep. Other nights, they could not keep their hands off each other after an evening spent in Vassa and Jurian’s fiery company. Lucien was a tender, generous lover who ensured that Nesta was always satisfied before he even thought of his own pleasure. It could be rough and quick – both with a desperation to feel as much of the other, as if they might never have the chance again. There were also times where their lovemaking was languid with no hurry at all like the moment could last an eternity. Nesta wished it could.

Her favourite nights were when they bedded down together, her cheek upon his chest, and they talked. Lucien had led an interesting life, first as a boy in the Autumn Court then a grown male in Spring. She loved to listen to it all – good and bad. It occurred to Nesta that the bad far outweighed the good in Lucien’s life yet he never showed that. He never let his wounds bleed on another.

More than nights spent together, Nesta discovered the joy of drowsy mornings where neither of them could commit to leaving the bed.

Cassian’s habit of waking up with the sun to train were unbreakable. Once or twice, she had asked him to remain with her a little longer but training was always his priority.

It was glorious to spend a morning, with the sun seeping through the gauzy curtains, cuddled up to Lucien. One of them would be more awake while the other nuzzled close with eyes closed then the roles would reverse. It was not uncommon for Nesta to read a book while Lucien’s face pressed to her chest or he’d rest his own book on her head while she burrowed into his side.   

Nesta couldn’t put into words how much these days meant to her.

It showed her that there was an alternative to rough couplings or constantly feeling like an aggressor.

She was not the problem.

They took tea in the garden once Jurian had departed for the day. For once, her worries didn’t gnaw away at her. Nesta did not need to tend them in private. It was easy to share them with Lucien who was sat with his face tipped up to the sun, eyes closed, to soak in every sunbeam.

‘I have to do the right thing, Lucien,’ she said, grey eyes tracking a starling as it swooped between the trees, singing for its partner.

Beside her, Lucien said nothing, only gave a slow nod of understanding.

‘I want to end things with Cassian. These days with you have opened my eyes to the shit I have to endure there. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep settling for less.’

She was grateful to him for finding her, for taking the risk in keeping her there, but Lucien kept his arms folded across his chest, handsome face revealing nothing.

‘Say something,’ she whispered.

Nesta needed confirmation that this was the right thing to do. How many faeries were denied the chance to find their mate? She wanted to see the bond, that others would kill for, in tatters.

A sparrow landed on the grass in front of them. It hopped a couple of times then pecked at the ground. Lucien’s keen eyes watched.

‘Lucien.’

‘At the risk of sounding overbearing, I am terrified of what might happen if you return there.’

Her throat closed up at that. She could deal with Cassian’s anger – had dealt with it enough. It was all fire, but it never burnt. The difficulty would be his family. They’d try to convince her that it was wrong to hurt him, that she was a villain for standing up for herself; never them for treading on her.

‘I’ll manage.’

‘And then?’ He pressed. ‘You’ll stay there? What if they don’t let you leave?’

They were options that Nesta had briefly thought about. She hadn’t delved deep into the issues because she’d spiral in panic. There was nowhere else for her to go unless she relied on Lucien’s generosity. There was not a chance that Nesta could ever go back to the House of Wind because she would truly be trapped there.

Lucien reached an arm around her, his warm hand settling on her shoulder.

‘I’m not saying this to scare you. I know what bastards like this will do to keep what they believe is theirs.’ Soft lips grazed her temple. ‘You’re stronger than me, wanting to do the right thing.’

‘I’ll regret it, I’m sure.’ Nesta leaned into his touch. ‘I’m worried what sort of danger you’ll be in if I go there smelling of you.’

‘A lovely fragrance,’ he said, a brief smile touching his lips. ‘I can be with you, if that’s what you want.’

It was so tempting to keep Lucien close, but he deserved more than to be her shield. She could barely imagine the sort of rage that Cassian would have for the male. It wasn’t fair to Lucien.

‘If you can winnow me, that is enough.’

His arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly to his body. It ought to have felt wrong to fall so easily into another male’s arms – especially this male. Lucien was bound to her sister just as she was bound to another. Yet, letting him hold her, where anybody could see, did not feel wrong. It was nice to be embraced and know that Lucien wouldn’t demand more, wouldn’t tease her or goad her for a reaction.

‘Later,’ she said, steeling her nerves. ‘Tomorrow. Today, I want to spend with you.’

***

There had been no discussion about what would happen with them after Nesta had told Cassian where to go. It hadn’t felt like the right time to bring it up, but it was rattling through Lucien’s head as the day wore on. In their few days together, it felt like he’d caught starlight in his hands and he was reluctant to let her go. But she needed to be alone, needed to stand on her own two feet without a male panting around her to learn who Nesta Archeron could be. And there would be many males keen to pant around her once word spread that Nesta was no longer bound to Cassian – but maybe some wouldn’t dare go near her for fear of the male’s reaction. Maybe Lucien was a little glad about that fact. He had little to offer her besides his wit.

In the afternoon, they took Jurian’s horse out for a walk since he’d left it stomping its hoof in the stable which would only need a good wind to knock it down. Lucien helped Nesta into the saddle where she sat sideways on, like a good female from the Autumn Court would rather than astride. Reluctantly, she wore one of Vassa’s garments since the few she’d taken from Velaris were on the line drying.

‘It suits you,’ said Lucien, gesturing to the gown.

It was deceptively light, cut in a style favoured by the Continent with a low, scooped neckline, in a copper colour so dark it reminded him of dried blood. It was trimmed with gold as appropriate for a mortal queen but it did not look out of place on Nesta. If anything, it suited her better than Vassa.

One corner of her mouth twitched, but Nesta remained observing the birds flitting through the low-hanging branches of the forest.

‘What, no quick, clever reply in response?’

‘I know it suits me,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘The pattern is like something you’d wear.’

Lucien led the grey mare through the undergrowth, but he could not focus on little else except for Nesta’s words. The gown suited her because it was reminiscent of him and they had – surprisingly – meshed well.

Unannounced, Nesta asked, ‘Will you ever return to the Autumn Court?’

His heart had been carved from his chest that day. Despite the horrors the Forest House carried, the traumas he had witnessed or been part of, Lucien still longed to feel the cool winds rustle through the golden trees. He missed their festivals endlessly. No court could quite captivate him in the same way. There would always be a part of him that wished to return home.

‘My head will be mounted on a spike on my father’s gates if I return.’

‘It will be the most beautiful decoration,’ she replied, lips quirking again.

Lucien tugged on her leg. ‘Cruel female.’

It was surprising that a perpetual spring had bored Lucien in no time at all, but he could never find autumn dull. High fae and lesser fae alike would gather around bonfires, drinking cider brewed from the sweet apples that autumn yielded, sharing songs and poems. It was a good place. It could be somewhere great with the right hands guiding it.

‘Why do you ask, Nesta?’

‘If I go where you go, one day, I wonder if the Autumn Court will be on our path.’

Again, she kept her chin lifted rather than look at him while he led the horse by its reins. He sensed these conversations were difficult for her; it was far easier to lock away her desires before anybody could ruin them.

‘You would like it,’ he murmured.

‘It has always been my favourite season.’  

[scary-grace]

Love Like Ghosts (Chapter 9) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You knew the empty house in a quiet neighborhood was too good to be true, but you were so desperate to get out of your tiny apartment that you didn't care, and now you find yourself sharing space with something inhuman and immensely powerful. As you struggle to coexist with a ghost whose intentions you're unsure of, you find yourself drawn unwillingly into the upside world of spirits and conjurers, and becoming part of a neighborhood whose existence depends on your house staying exactly as it is, forever. But ghosts can change, just like people can. And as your feelings and your ghost's become more complex and intertwined, everything else begins to crumble. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

Chapter 9

There’s something wrong with your house, but you knew that when you bought it, and lately it feels like the thing that’s wrong with your house is you. You’re constantly uneasy, at work and at home, to the point where Phantom glues herself to your side and cries when you try to leave. Tomura hovers. You can tell he wants things from you – more touches, more kissing, more sex – but with half the neighborhood out hunting conjurers, the insect deliveries have mostly dried up. Most of the time, mustering up a voice and a set of hands is the most he can do.

The conjurer hunt is on. Keigo’s taking time off from work, and whatever Spinner and Jin usually do during the day, they’ve put it on hold. Every morning, you or Aizawa or Jin’s mom gives the three of them and Atsuhiro a ride to the train station, where they get on separate trains, each taking a different route to the same destination. They’re checking cities and towns off the list, one by one, starting close to home and working their way outwards. They get back later and later every day.

Jin’s mom doesn’t like it. Magne doesn’t like it. Dabi especially doesn’t like it, given the clouds of smoke that are constantly billowing from Keigo’s house, and eventually you and Hizashi are dispatched to deal with it. Hizashi’s there for the intimidation factor. You’re not sure why you’re involved. “You’re close with Keigo,” Hizashi says with a shrug, when you ask him. “Hard to tell, but Dabi’s not thrilled with how things have been going there lately. Knowing you and Keigo might talk about him might make him behave a little better.”

“Oh.”

“That’s the theory, anyway,” Hizashi says. He bangs on the door with a closed fist. “Open up, Toasty. We need to talk.”

“Fuck off.”

“No can do. You’re about to get the fire department called on you,” Hizashi says. “How are you going to explain that one to your human when he gets home?”

“Like I’d know. He’s never here.” Dabi’s face appears in the front window, and a moment later the door cracks open. “He saw his first chance to get away from me and bolted.”

You can’t stop the incredulous laugh that sneaks out of your mouth. “He’s out there hunting your conjurer. What about that says he’s trying to get away?”

“I didn’t ask him to do that.”

“No, he volunteered.” Hizashi leans hard against the door and shoves it open. “You’re acting even dumber than the guy across the street, and that’s really saying something.”

“Hey,” you say listlessly. “Don’t talk shit about my ghost. He came up with the plan.”

“The plan that might get my human killed,” Dabi says.

“The plan that might save your ass,” Hizashi corrects, flicking Dabi in the forehead and ignoring the smoke that starts to leak into the air. “Enough with this little fit you’re throwing. Things are this way with your human because you made them this way. Your human treats you different than she treats her ghost because of you. If you want any of that to change, you need to get it together.”

“I’m not embodying,” Dabi says. “You can’t make me.”

“You can do better even if you don’t embody yourself,” you say. Dabi makes a disparaging noise. “Not lighting the house on fire would be a good start.”

“Why do you do that, anyway?” Hizashi is fully inside Keigo’s house now, and even though you know it’s going to drive Tomura up the wall, you follow him in. “Oof, this place smells. Have you ever heard of air freshener?”

You survey the front room of Keigo’s house. It’s messy. There’s a basket of laundry sitting on the couch, unfolded but clean as evidenced by the used dryer sheet sticking out of a sock on top. While Hizashi continues to hold forth on the odor of the house, you investigate further, checking out the kitchen. It’s also messy. There are clean dishes in the dishwasher and dirty dishes in the sink, and based on the state of the stove, Keigo’s been living on instant noodles, frozen vegetables, and not much else. You think of the time you were sick, of Tomura’s clumsy but well-intentioned efforts to help, and feel an unexpected wave of sadness.

It crystallizes into resolve a moment later. You head back to the front room and target Dabi directly. “Get in here. You’re going to learn how to do the dishes.”

“What?”

Dabi sounds baffled, and Hizashi is hooting with laughter. You raise your voice to be heard over him. “You want things to be better with Keigo, you have to do stuff,” you say. “Just not burning down the house isn’t enough. You have to help out. Don’t just say you want things to change. Make them change.”

“Like a man,” Hizashi says, still cackling. “This is what real men do.”

Dabi looks skeptical. You weigh the risk of the statement you’re considering, then decide to hell with it. “Tomura knows how to do all this stuff already.”

It’s quiet for a second. “If your useless virgin of a ghost can do it, so can I,” Dabi states, which sets Hizashi off again. “Teach me how.”

You’re tempted to tell him that Tomura figured it out on his own, but you also don’t want Keigo to have to deal with some of the mistakes Tomura made. “Let’s start with the dishwasher.”

After the dishwasher, you go through proper dishwashing technique, stressing the importance of cleaning up whatever mess gets made in the process. “It’s not helping if there’s still a mess afterward,” Hizashi advices from the kitchen table, where he’s going through Keigo’s record collection. “Shou and me went through that with cleaning the litterbox. It was bad.”

Dabi bitches his way through the dishes, but you think he’s grasped the basics. After that, you move onto laundry – or rather, Hizashi moves on to laundry, because you get a brief flash of what Tomura will do when he finds out you’ve been touching Keigo’s and possibly Dabi’s underwear and decide you don’t want to deal with that. While they’re working on it, you head back across the street to retrieve a spare air freshener from your house. Tomura pounces on you the instant you step through the gate. “What are you doing over there?”

“Trying to teach Dabi some life skills so Keigo doesn’t have to live in a dungeon,” you say. Tomura’s more materialized than he’s been in a while, just slightly more than insubstantial as he tangles himself around you. “I should be done soon.”

“You’re not going back.”

“I’m going back,” you say.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I am, and here’s why. Keigo is my friend. He’s trying to help everybody. You don’t care about everybody, but I do, and I don’t think my friend should have to live in a house like that with a ghost that treats him that badly.” You dig up an air freshener, plus a scented candle, ignoring Tomura’s attempts to reel you back in. “The only reason Dabi’s going along with it is because I told him that you know how to do this stuff already.”

It’s quiet for a second. “He’s not better than me,” Tomura says.

“You’re better than him. Keigo and Hizashi didn’t have to come over here and teach you how to do the laundry.” You head for the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Tomura entangles you again, because Tomura’s an asshole, but he lets you go before you reach the gate. When you get back to Keigo’s house, Dabi and Hizashi are there, with a pile of folded laundry between them and identical weird looks on their faces. “What did you say to him?” Dabi demands. “He’s so full of himself –”

“Yeah, I haven’t experienced this level of concentrated smugness in a while,” Hizashi notes. He gives his head a shake, then shrugs it off. “You got the goods?”

You hand off the air freshener and the candle. “Light this up and start praying. I’m not sure how much of a dent it will make, but it’s better than nothing.”

You’re not really sure how well your lessons and Hizashi’s have stuck, and you’re not sure how Keigo’s going to feel about the fact that you were both in his house, bullying his ghost. You don’t even have a chance to warn him, since you’re not the one picking he and the others up from the train station tonight, and you find yourself watching anxiously from your front window as Keigo trudges up the stairs and into his house. “What are you worried about?” Tomura asks. “You did him a favor. He should thank you.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten into their relationship like that.” The idea of someone trying something similar on you and Tomura makes you almost as uncomfortable as the idea of raising the topic of you and Tomura in a formal relationship. “He might be mad. I’d understand if he was mad.”

“He should be grateful,” Tomura says. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. “I’ll make him thank you if he doesn’t.”

It’s Keigo’s number. You gulp, unlock your phone, and start reading the texts.

Keigo: so uh

Keigo: hypothetically

Keigo: did you go to my house while I was gone and replace Dabi with Hizashi in disguise

Keigo: because like

Keigo: the laundry got folded

Keigo: the kitchen is clean

Keigo: when I got inside he stole all my clothes so he could put them in the washing machine

Keigo: nothing is on fire except a SCENTED CANDLE

Keigo: what did you DO

Tomura is reading over your shoulder, and as he reaches the end of the text string, he bursts out into raspy laughter. Something twists in your chest hard and painful enough to knock the air out of your lungs. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Tomura laugh before, and you’re almost angry with yourself for how much you like how it sounds. “What’s funny?”

“He stole his human’s clothes.” Tomura snickers. “If I tried that on you you’d leave and never come back.”

You’re temporarily frozen with horror at the thought, but you break out of it by force to text Keigo back. Sorry. Me and Hizashi went over there because the house was a little too on fire, and when we saw what a mess it was we decided to try to help out.

So you did it, Keigo texts back. He’s saying he did it.

We told him what to do, but he did most of it, you explain. Sorry.

Don’t be sorry. Just like – how? He never does this shit. I have to beg him not to cut my brake lines and burn down the house.

You’ve got theories, but nothing definitive, you glance at Tomura, wondering if he knows, but either he doesn’t or he’s not telling. I’m not sure, you text. He really stole your clothes?

Two seconds after I got inside. I barely shut the door in time. Keigo texts again while you’re trying not to have a thing over Tomura’s renewed laughter. I would have texted you about it sooner except I was naked and it would have been weird.

Now you’re laughing, but Tomura isn’t. “He owes you now. You should make him do something.”

“I’d say we’re even.” You laugh-react to Keigo’s text and put your phone away. “He and everybody else here helped me a lot when it came to you. I want to help them out, too.”

“Him telling you things isn’t the same as you dealing with his bastard scar wraith all day,” Tomura says. “You did more. He owes you.”

“That’s not how it works,” you say. “People help each other for a lot of reasons. It’s not usually just so the other person will owe them. Is that why you help me sometimes?”

You regret the question the instant you ask it – enough that you take it back, out loud. “Sorry. Don’t answer that.”

“I –”

“Don’t.” You know you’re not handling this well. You just don’t know what else to do.

Realizing that you’ve got feelings for Tomura has been a disaster on every possible level. You thought admitting it to yourself might make things easier, but instead it’s unlocked a whole new circle of hell – one where you want things from him that you’ve got no business wanting, things you know he can’t give you, things he wouldn’t give you in a million years. Not being able to touch him at all makes it worse. You’ve never thought of yourself as being touch-starved, but there’s not really another word for it. You miss the cold. You miss him. And it’s pathetic, so you do everything you can to not think about it. The last thing you want is for someone to ask.

But apparently you’re not hiding it as well as you think you are, because Mr. Yagi takes one look at you the next morning and motions you into his office. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” you say, but it comes out watery and awful. “I’m fine, sir. It’s just, uh –”

What should you say? That it’s the time of the month? If you say that, Mr. Yagi will run for the hills, and you shouldn’t lie to him. “It’s ghost stuff,” you say, and Mr. Yagi nods sagely. “Things in the neighborhood are – hard right now.”

“I have something that might help,” Mr. Yagi says encouragingly. “Izuku’s completed his review of the files you’ve collected, and he’s hoping to present his findings to you in person.”

“Oh,” you say. “Um, okay. I don’t know if the neighborhood –”

“You’ll come to our neighborhood,” Mr. Yagi says. You blink. “This evening, for dinner. Izuku will present his findings to you and you can eat a meal in a place that isn’t so obviously haunted. Inko tells me that constant observation wears on a person.”

You’re so used to it by this point that you barely notice. It’s the explanations that start to wear on you. Lately Tomura’s been interested in what you’re eating, and you’ve been stuck trying to describe taste to someone who can really only grasp texture. It would be nice to go one night without having to explain that lettuce tastes like green but salmon doesn’t taste like pink. Mr. Yagi raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Thank you, sir,” you say. “I’d like that.”

“Excellent!” Mr. Yagi beams at you. “You have my address from the office party two years ago, yes? We haven’t moved.”

“Um – you might need to send it again.” You have a bad habit of deleting your old texts.

Mr. Yagi sends you his address and you add it to his contact in your phone. And while you’re in your contacts, you realize that there’s a contact you’re missing – and a ghost who’s going to have questions when you don’t show up after work. You still haven’t gotten around to getting Tomura a phone, which means you’re going to need someone to go talk to him. Somebody he’s not going to try to kill. You’d send Spinner or Keigo, but they’re both on the mission, and introducing Hizashi into the equation is a recipe for disaster. If you ask Shinsou for help, Hizashi and Aizawa will murder you. That just leaves –

Wondering what in the hell you’re doing, you text Magne for the first time ever. Hi. Would you be okay letting Tomura borrow your phone for a second?

You’re not entirely sure what Magne does during the day. Whatever her job is, it’s remote work – but it must be a slow period, because she texts you back right away. What does he need it for?

I won’t be back until late and I need to let him know.

Magne sends you a truly bizarre collection of emojis. That’s so cute! What time should I bring it over?

Noon, you say. Thanks, Magne. I owe you one.

A little bird name Himiko tells me you have a Sephora credit card. I’ll be expecting a top-tier birthday gift.

The ghosts don’t have real birthdays, so they celebrate either the day they were summoned or the day they were embodied. You’re not sure which one Magne picked, but Spinner definitely knows. You’ll ask him. You got it.

Your lunch break starts at noon, and your phone rings from Magne’s number at approximately 12:02. “You’re on speaker,” Magne shouts at you. Then: “I’ve got your human on the phone! She wants to talk to you. Let me in the yard!”

“Just throw it,” Tomura shouts back.

“This is an iPhone! I’m not throwing it anywhere!”

“I don’t care what kind of phone it is. You’re not coming in my yard.”

“Tomura,” you call out, trying to simultaneously be loud and keep any of your coworkers from overhearing this nightmare, “go up to the fence and borrow the phone from Magne. And don’t run away with it. Otherwise I’m going to have to buy her the entire Sephora franchise for her birthday.”

Magne cackles at that, but when she speaks, she’s not talking to you. “There you are! It’s a shame you’ve been hiding in that house all this time. You’re much cuter when you’re – you know, all there.”

“I’m not cute,” Tomura says. You’re smiling to yourself for about three seconds before he speaks up again. “My human said I’m pretty.”

Based on the cacophony on the other end of the line, Magne’s phone mission picked up an audience. Or maybe she gave it an audience. You can hear Hizashi cackling like a goblin, Shinsou snorting with laughter, and some squeaky little Eri giggles, which would all be really funny if it was happening to anybody else. Tomura’s on the same page as you are about it. “Why are you laughing?”

“She’s not wrong,” Himiko says from somewhere in the offing. The whole neighborhood is there, apparently. “You’re really pretty, Tomura! It’s only funny because boys usually say that to girls, not the other way around.”

“Honestly, we should use it the other way around more often,” Hizashi says. He projects his voice at a volume that makes your ears start ringing through the phone. “I for one could stand to be called pretty at least four times a day.”

He’s speaking so loudly that Aizawa can probably hear him from their house at the top of the street. “Dad, that’s gross,” Shinsou complains.

“I think it’s nice,” Eri chimes in. “I like being pretty. My hair and my eyes look like Tomura’s, so Tomura must be pretty, too!”

“Okay,” you say loudly, trying to regain control of the situation, “my lunch break’s not forever, and I really do need to talk to Tomura, so –”

“Of course! Shoo, shoo!” Magne hopes into action. You’d better start saving for Magne’s birthday gift yesterday. “Here. The phone. I’ll be in my house. Just shout when you’re ready to give it back!”

“I’ll just throw it. That’s faster.”

“He won’t throw it,” you say. Magne makes some kind of agreeing sound and leaves. Tomura must have the phone now, but he’s not saying anything. “Are you there?”

“Am I supposed to say you’re pretty?”

You facepalm with the hand that’s not holding the phone. “No,” you say. “Not unless you think so. I said you were pretty because that’s what I think. And that’s not why I called you.”

“Why did you call me?”

You brace yourself. “I won’t be back until later tonight. Later than usual. I wanted to let you know.”

“Why?”

“I’m meeting someone who has information. About the second conjurer.”

“Who?” Tomura’s voice darkens so abruptly that a chill goes down your spine. “I don’t need you to tell me. I’ll find them. I’ll –”

“It’s my boss’s son. He’s fifteen. He’s been looking at the same documents I have, except he actually has time to read them.”

It’s quiet for a second. “You could have said it was a kid,” Tomura says reproachfully, and you almost laugh. “Your boss the ghost has a kid?”

“I don’t really know how that worked.” You don’t want to know, either, and you really don’t want Tomura asking questions about it, so you change the subject fast. “I’m going over there after work and I’ll be back when I can. Are you okay to feed Phantom, or should I ask someone to –”

“I’ll do it. She’s our dog.” Tomura cuts you off. “Don’t be stupid. And be careful.”

You’re tempted to point out that being careful is most likely rolled in with not being stupid, but you keep your mouth shut. A moment later Tomura speaks up again. “Come back fast. I miss you when you’re not here.”

“I will,” you say, trying not to implode. “I, um – I miss you too. Please don’t throw Magne’s phone.”

“Fine.” Tomura hangs up. You need to get Tomura a phone. You also need to teach Tomura phone etiquette, like not hanging up without saying goodbye. Except he said he missed you, which – what was that? Was it a guilt trip? Tomura’s never tried to guilt-trip you before, and he’s not subtle in general. If that’s what he was doing, you’d see it coming a mile away, which means that this wasn’t a guilt-trip. In fact, he took the news that you won’t be back until later fairly well. The weird feeling you’re getting is because it was a normal conversation. The kind of conversation you’d have with a boyfriend who wasn’t crazy. Most of your boyfriends have been crazy.

Tomura isn’t your boyfriend. You’re being weird. You text thank-you to Magne again, drop a line to Spinner to ask when Magne’s birthday is, and head back inside to grab your lunch. It’s a nice day. It might be nice to eat outside.

At least that’s what you think, until Nakayama drops down on the bench next to you. “Who was that on the phone?”

“None of your business.” You grit your teeth as Nakayama pops open a salad in an excruciatingly loud plastic clamshell package. “You were eavesdropping?”

“Nobody used to call you,” Nakayama says matter-of-factly. “Honestly, you seemed like the type who’d bang your boss.”

You almost choke on your sandwich. “But now Mr. Yagi seems kind of like your dad. Not in a daddy way, just a literal dad,” Nakayama continues. “So who was on the phone? Why do you miss them?”

“No one. Go away.”

“Is it your boyfriend?” Nakayama asks. “I’d say that to my boyfriend if he was clingy. Is your boyfriend clingy?”

“It’s not my boyfriend,” you say. You’re pretty sure your face is on fire. “Don’t you have anywhere else to be? I thought – uh, I thought you and Woods from the DA’s office were a thing.”

“We are. But he was being judgy about one of my cases, so I ditched him for today.” Nakayama crunches down on a bite of salad. “I’m surprised you knew that! You don’t usually care about office gossip.”

You don’t. But you’re desperate to get out of this conversation without having to think or talk any more about Tomura. “I pay attention, but I’m sort of behind, I think. Can you catch me up?”

Nakayama grins at you around a mouthful of lettuce. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Asking about gossip is going to be your new go-to for avoiding talking about your personal life with your coworkers. Nakayama talks straight through lunch, and afterwards you throw yourself into your work, doing everything you can to avoid thinking about Tomura and what Tomura said and what the actual hell is happening there. You end the day a half-day ahead of your inbox, and you duck out early, swinging by the store to pick up some flowers to bring as a gift for your hosts. And then you sneak into another store, to pick up something for someone else.

You’ve been to Mr. Yagi’s house before, but it was a while ago. The neighborhood you’re driving through feels mostly unfamiliar. The houses are medium-sized, but on big lots, and you know from your homebuying exploits that this much space costs a ridiculous amount of money. The land one of these houses is built on probably costs as much as your property and your house put together. The last time you were here, you remember thinking somewhat uncharitably that Mr. Yagi must have family money. You’re even more confused now that you know he’s a ghost.

Mr. Yagi’s house is yellow with green trim, bright and pretty. It feels friendly when you walk up the front steps, and the doorbell’s ring somehow sounds cheerful. Mr. Yagi opens the door, smiling. “Come in! What are these –”

“For you,” you say. Your parents might not have been very affectionate, but they made sure you had manners. Mr. Yagi accepts the flowers. “Thank you for hosting me.”

You take off your shoes and make your way into the house after Mr. Yagi. The rest of the house feels just as friendly as it looks. Whatever’s being cooked smells really good, and Mr. Yagi’s wife smiles at you though a cloud of steam when you approach to ask if you can help. “I have it under control. And I have my assistant,” she says, elbowing Mr. Yagi lightly. “Go out to the backyard, if you’d like. Izuku’s waiting.”

You make your way through the house and onto the back porch, which overlooks a garden about ten times as pretty as yours. You can’t help feeling a surge of envy, which is only partially helped by reminding yourself that this garden’s had a lot more time to grow than yours has, and that this family doesn’t have to worry about buying delicate or expensive plants for fear that a ghost will get impatient and kill them in order to materialize fully. The only shadow in the garden comes from a large, lush shrub with purple-green leaves that’s resisting every effort made by Mr. Yagi’s son to extract it from the ground.

You come closer. “Do you need help?”

“No,” Izuku says, out of breath. “I don’t want to chop it down, but it has to go. It’s invasive.”

“Oh,” you say. “Did you know that when you planted it?”

“We think it was mislabeled,” Izuku says. “Or I read the label wrong, or something. I don’t want to kill it, and I think I can get it out alive, but we can’t plant it anywhere else.”

Something occurs to you. “If I help you get it out alive, can I have it?”

“Dad said you have a garden, but why would you want – oh!” Izuku breaks off suddenly, grinning. “Based on the size of this bush and its relative age compared to the lifespan of similar plants, it contains about ten years of life energy! Ghosts usually burn through energy between forty-eight and fifty-five times faster than living things, depending on their power level, and Dad said your ghost is extremely strong, so if we assume a consumption rate of seventy times faster than a living thing and if you take this tree and he uses it, that should give him roughly two weeks of complete embodiment. Longer if he stays incorporeal sometimes.”

You can only stare at him. He keeps talking. “When Dad was still a ghost, he went through life-force really fast. Mom says he kept wanting to do things for her – like hold the door open, or pull out her chair so she could sit down, or carry her groceries. One time her car got stuck in the snow and he picked it up and carried it for her. Oh, I guess that’s another thing! If a ghost is exceeding the physical abilities of their embodied form, the consumption rate doubles. What kind of things does your ghost like to do?”

“I have a dog and they like to play together,” you say. There’s no way you’re bringing up the rest of it with a fifteen-year-old. “How did you find out about all this stuff? Is there an equation or something?”

“Sort of! I can show you if you want. Of course, it’ll be approximate, since there’s not a great way to measure power levels and you kind of just have to vibe it, but it should tell you about how much complete materialization time you’ll get. What kind of things does your ghost usually drain?”

“Small plants. Weeds or mushrooms, and sometimes blackberry bushes,” you say. “And the people in the neighborhood bring us bugs for him to use.”

“He must be conserving power really well if he can get complete materialization from insects,” Izuku says excitedly. “Do you think there’s any way I could meet him? I haven’t met a real ghost in ages, and one that powerful –”

“Izuku,” Mr. Yagi says warningly from the porch. “That ghost isn’t safe for most people to interact with. And his reaction to you would be difficult to predict.”

“He’d know I’m not a threat. He could read it off my aura,” Izuku says. He looks at you and explains before you can ask. “I’m half-ghost. Mom got pregnant with me before Dad embodied himself full-time.”

Your first thought, as incredibly stupid as it is, is that you might need your box of condoms after all. Your second thought is that you really didn’t need to know that much about your boss’s sex life. Then you remember that Mr. Yagi can see Tomura’s marks on you and decide that it’s even. “Um, what does that mean? Being half-ghost.”

“Like being an embodied ghost, but I didn’t have to drain anybody,” Izuku says. “I can see other ghosts, and feel what they feel. I need to blink, but my eyes still do the thing Dad’s eyes do, so I have to wear contacts. And sometimes when I dream I can see into the world between.”

You sit there with that for a moment. Izuku looks to Mr. Yagi. “Once I get the butterfly bush out, she’s going to take it home so her ghost can use it. Did you know he’s only been using bugs?”

“I didn’t,” Mr. Yagi says. He glances at you, and you will your face not to flush. “We’ll all work together to dig up the bush after dinner. It’s time to wash up.”

You follow Mr. Yagi and Izuku into the house, feeling like you handled things well. It’s not until you’re washing your hands that it occurs to you that Izuku, who’s half ghost, can almost certainly see Tomura’s goddamn handprints all over you. It takes you way too long to muster up the courage to do anything but bolt directly out the door and drive until you run out of gas. But you make it out to the table and sit down, avoiding everyone’s eyes. You’re sitting with two ghosts. They can see the handprints. They know. You’re screwed. There’s no way they’ll let you have the butterfly bush now.

Mr. Yagi’s wife reaches across the table and pats your arm. “It’s all right,” she says, and you look up to find her smiling. “I’ve got them, too.”

You can’t see handprints on her, but she must have them, if she was involved with Mr. Yagi before he was embodied. You’ve never met anybody other than Keigo who was involved with their ghost when it was still a ghost, and you feel yourself relax a bit, just like you do when you and Keigo hang out. You manage a smile in response, then pick up your utensils and start eating. The food tastes really good. And it’s nice to know that you’re not going to have to spend twenty minutes explaining why cheese comes in different shapes, colors, and sizes without becoming something other than cheese.

You have to explain other stuff, though. Izuku has questions. “How many ghosts are in your neighborhood? Are they all adults or are some of them kids? Was your house built before the rest of the neighborhood or is it just the only house with a ghost in it?” He uses the pause provided by your answers to inhale half the food on his plate, then jumps back into the breach with even more questions. “Dad said there was a scar wraith. Have you met him? Scar wraiths are technically half-embodied ghosts, right? How many of his powers does he still have? Which of the former ghosts on your street is the most powerful? Do you think my dad could beat Magne or Atsuhiro or Hizashi in a fight?”

Mr. Yagi chokes on a sip of water. “I won’t be fighting any ghosts in that neighborhood. My ghost-fighting days are long over.”

“You used to fight ghosts?” you ask.

“Yes,” Mr. Yagi says. “That’s what I was summoned for.”

You want to ask. You really, really want to ask, but you don’t want to pry. Mr. Yagi’s wife finally elbows him. “Just tell her, Toshi.”

Mr. Yagi sighs. “When we first spoke of this, I mentioned that some conjurers don’t bind ghosts. Rather, they form mutually beneficial alliances – sometime simply to extend their lives, sometimes in an effort to do good. The conjurer who summoned me was named Shimura Nana. She hoped to do good, and I wanted to help her. Together we pursued evil conjurers and unquiet ghosts, ending their reigns of terror wherever we could.”

He glances guiltily at you. “I believe we once crossed paths with Hizashi, from your neighborhood. My master judged there to be greater threats than him.”

Hizashi wouldn’t like hearing that. Maybe you’ll tell him the next time he tries to scare you for kicks. But there’s a different question you’re considering. “How do you kill a ghost?”

“We’ll get to that,” Mr. Yagi says. “In any case, as the years passed, my master and I came into contact with the same conjurer over and over again. He was interested not in short-term havoc, but in long-term destruction, and he chose his ghosts accordingly. Many of the worst ghosts my master and I faced had been captured by him – taken as children, isolated for decades, their power growing unchecked until it outgrew the haunt containing it.”

Unease twists in the pit of your stomach. You’ve heard a story like that before. The one you were told was about Eri, but when you consider the details – the length of time, the complete isolation – it sounds like someone else, too. “These ghosts had no chance to make a bargain with their conjurer,” Mr. Yagi continues. “It was likely never explained to them why they had been imprisoned in this world. Many ghosts are curious about the human world, initially, and form opinions once they’ve been allowed to explore and interact with it. By the time this conjurer’s ghosts are allowed to interact with the world, they’ve grown to despise it as a prison. They destroy everything in their path, until they’re stopped.”

“Dad stopped a lot of them,” Izuku says.

“His master called it merciful,” Mr. Yagi’s wife – she’s told you to call her Inko – says. She looks troubled. “I don’t know about that.”

“There aren’t any left in the country. My master and I made sure.” Mr. Yagi folds and unfolds his napkin. “Ghosts may not approach the world with the same view of mortality as humans do, but it still takes time to create such a violent, hateful ghost. We were certain we’d found them all. And then –”

Suddenly you’re certain you know what he’s going to say. “You found my house.”

“It has every hallmark of our enemy’s work,” Mr. Yagi says. “An immensely powerful ghost, firmly entrenched in a house that can barely contain it. How long has he inhabited that house?”

“A hundred and ten years.”

“That fits!” Izuku says excitedly. He gets up from the table and bolts down the hallway, coming back a moment later pushing a wheeled whiteboard that you’re pretty sure disappeared from the conference room at work. “So! Thanks to the map Mr. Aizawa made, and the list of identities you found, I’ve been able to track where this conjurer’s been over the last two hundred years. A lot of the haunts have been destroyed, but nothing gets built there again, so they’re easy to find. The conjurer starts out way to the north, two hundred years ago. He binds a ghost to an old temple, and sixty years later, the ghost breaks out. Did you get that one, Dad? Do you remember?”

Mr Yagi nods. “Okay,” Izuku says. “Seven years later, he’s right here. Just a little ways south. This time the ghost is in an abandoned palace. That one only lasts twenty years before the haunt gets destroyed, and Dad gets that one, too. Seven years after that, the conjurer goes big and summons a ghost to haunt this entire mountain range by binding different parts of it into different caves and cabins –”

It would take an idiot not to see the pattern that’s emerging. The conjurer moves steadily south, spending seven years in each location – no more, and no less. In each location he leaves behind a haunted house with a lonely ghost, a ticking time bomb that won’t go off until long after everyone’s forgotten it was there. When he reaches the border, he turns around and heads north again, still spending seven years in each location. “Why seven years?” you ask. “If he’s worried about being caught, shouldn’t he switch it up?”

“Summoning and binding ghosts take time,” Inko says. “If it’s not done well, the ghosts can get out. And this conjurer doesn’t want his ghosts to get out.”

Yeah, no kidding – if they can get out, they won’t go crazy like he wants them to. Izuku keeps going over the map, seven years and a few miles at a time. Then he stops. “Here there’s a big gap,” he says. “In distance and in time. He doesn’t show up again until fourteen years later, and he’s way too far north. Plus, his name is wrong. You were right about how he steals names from people he knew in his previous identity to build the new one, but his name in the new town isn’t related at all to the last one.”

“It’s an insult to my master,” Mr. Yagi says. The scowl on his face is way too scary for your liking. “Shimura Tenko.”

You remember that name from the files. “So what happened? Did he just take a break?”

“After ninety years of doing the same thing? No way,” Izuku says. He opens his mouth, closes it, and turns to Inko. “Mom spotted it. Mom should say.”

Inko smiles at him, then turns to face you. “Look at the space that’s missing,” she says quietly. “There should be a haunt somewhere here.”

You look at the spot she’s circling on the map and your heart sinks. “We’re not the only city around here,” you say hopelessly. “It could be any of those –”

“We checked. There isn’t.” Izuku is bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “The guy my dad fought is the same guy who summoned your ghost. And it took him a while. Either your ghost really fought or really tried to escape, because the conjurer never spent more than seven years anywhere else. He spent fourteen years here.”

Your heart is racing. You look to Mr. Yagi. “How did you and your master not find him?”

“There was nothing to find,” Mr. Yagi says. “Every other haunt became a place of violence and terror, the instant the ghosts began to attain their full power. There were incidents, accidents, mysterious deaths – things that signal the presence of a ghost. There was no such thing in your house.”

No, there wasn’t. You checked. If there had been any sign of trouble, you wouldn’t have bought it. “What I don’t understand,” Inko says, “is why your ghost didn’t turn out like the others. From what Toshinori says, your ghost radiates malevolence to such a degree that no one’s stayed long inside the house. The isolation is what’s supposed to drive them crazy, and that would make him more isolated, not less.”

“That’s a weird move for a ghost with a lot of power,” Izuku agrees. “Especially given what all the other ones did. Obviously ghosts have different temperaments, like people do, but if all the others destroyed their haunts and he didn’t –”

He trails off, and Inko doesn’t try to fill the gap. They’re both looking at Mr. Yagi, so you look at him, too. It’s a while before he speaks, and when he does, he’s avoiding your eyes. “Initially, Tomura wouldn’t have had sufficient power to harm anyone. Once he did, it seems he made a conscious decision to use his powers to deepen his own isolation rather than wield them against others. He’s undeniably malevolent, but not particularly hostile. As far as any of us can tell, he’s never attempted to break out of his haunt, much less wreak the kind of destruction one might expect from a ghost in his position. In the eyes of his conjurer, he represents a failure.”

Even though failing at this is exactly what you should want for Tomura, you still don’t like hearing people talk about him that way. “What does that mean?”

“It means that Tomura’s conjurer is likely to return at some point,” Mr. Yagi says, “and attempt to turn Tomura into the symbol of terror he was meant to be. My understanding of Tomura is limited, but based on the available evidence –”

He gestures awkwardly at you. “The fastest way for his conjurer to do that would be to remove you from the picture.”

“Wouldn’t Tomura just kill him?” Izuku asks. “I mean – if someone hurt me or Mom, that’s what you’d do, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Yagi says, “but this conjurer is too cunning to make it easy. He’d likely kill her far from the neighborhood, which would force Tomura to destroy his haunt to pursue him. Tomura would likely leave immense destruction in his wake as he chased the conjurer. Which is what the conjurer wanted him to do all along.”

You feel like you’re going to be sick. You imagine the house blowing apart from the inside, just like the fence did; or worse, you imagine it crumbling, falling apart in a wave of dust that billows out, consuming everything in its path. He already looks down on the neighborhood. If he found any way to blame them for your death, he’d wipe them off the map. And then he’d move on to everything else.

No. Tomura wouldn’t do something that crazy just for you. You’re out of your mind. “I’m not that important to him,” you say. “I’m not – he’d kill the conjurer to punish him, maybe. He wouldn’t go on a rampage. Why would you say that?”

Mr. Yagi doesn’t answer. He looks uncomfortable. “Even if he succeeded in killing the conjurer, it wouldn’t bring you back,” Inko says softly. “He’d still be loose in the world, still angry, still destructive, with no one to aim his anger towards. Haven’t you ever been so angry that you didn’t care who you hurt?”

You have. You don’t want to admit it, but you have. “So have I,” Inko says, which is hard to imagine. “But you and I are human, with societal expectations that make it unlikely that we’ll act on those feelings. Ghosts don’t have that. They follow their feelings. They don’t see consequences until it’s too late.”

“You’re wrong,” you say. Your jaw is clenched, your hands curled into fists out of sight. “I believe you about all of this – who his conjurer is, and why it happened, and all of that. But you’re wrong about what will happen if his conjurer kills me. He doesn’t care enough about me for the rest of it.”

You see Mr. Yagi and Inko trade a glance. Izuku is staring, too, waiting to be let in on the secret. “Perhaps we’re wrong,” Mr. Yagi says. “Even so, no one wants you to be hurt. With that in mind, we have a gift for you.”

“Toshinori’s master made these for me, back when Toshi was still a ghost,” Inko says. She pulls back her sleeves, revealing narrow bracelets on each wrist. “They hide the traces of ghostly power. When Toshi and I met, he and his master were still battling the conjurer. Wearing these kept me from being noticed and used against him.”

You hadn’t known that. Now you understand why Mr. Yagi is so certain about what Tomura will do if you’re killed – it’s what he would have done, or wanted to do, if he’d lost Inko. ��My power’s faded enough that it’s almost undetectable,” Mr. Yagi says. “My master would be pleased if the bracelets went to someone who needed them.”

You argue. Of course you argue. A lot, in no small part because going to Mr. Yagi’s house for dinner and coming back with his wife’s jewelry on is going to convince everybody at the office that you’re sleeping with him. Once you lose that part of the argument, you switch tactics to arguing that something that fits Inko’s wrists is going to be too small for yours, only for Inko to tell you, completely straightfaced, that the bracelets are magic and can grow or shrink to fit whoever needs to wear them. You sit there with that for a moment, chagrined, before she bursts out laughing and tells you to try them on first. You do. They fit perfectly. Maybe they’re magic after all.

You help Inko with the dishes while Izuku piles up paper after paper after paper on the counter for you to take home and review, including a list of six possible names Tomura’s conjurer could be going by at this very moment. Then all of you head to the backyard to extract the butterfly bush. It’s a four-person job for sure. You have no idea how Izuku thought he was going to do it himself.

Inko insists you go home with leftovers, then sends you home with more food than you can carry. You thank her and Mr. Yagi and Izuku with a little more emotion than you usually display – for the food, and for their help. “I’ll bring this back to the neighborhood,” you say. “It’ll clear things up. Now we have a better idea of what to watch out for.”

“If you need assistance at any point, let me know,” Mr.  Yagi says. “I do have some experience in this regard.”

“I will,” you say. “I’ll see you at work, sir.”

You’re still feeling too many things as you drive home, the still-living butterfly bush taking up the entire backseat of your car and enough food for two nights of dinners in the passenger seat. It takes you a while to name the feeling as hurt – hurt for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with the absurd kindness Mr. Yagi and his family showed to you. It’s an old hurt, one you’ve lived with for a long time; the feeling of observing a happy family and realizing all over again how empty your childhood was. But now there’s a new kind of hurt added to the pile. Not the hurt of wanting something you didn’t have, but wanting something you won’t get.

Inko was you, once upon a time. Human, in love with a ghost, in the line of fire. But it worked out for her. She’s happy. She has a son and a husband who loves her and a garden whose biggest problem is an invasive plant her son accidentally planted in it. That’s never going to be you.

Even if you wanted that, and you’re not at all sure you do, knowing you can’t have it makes you sad. You drive the rest of the way home with a weird lump in your throat, trying to clear it before you get home. You can’t explain this to Tomura. He won’t understand.

The mood sticks with you all the way home, but when you pull into your neighborhood, you feel it inexplicably lift. It’s just past sundown. Hizashi and Shinsou are in their garden, laughing about a misshapen eggplant they’ve been growing. Himiko is on the front porch of her house, painting Jin’s nails, while their siblings scribble profanity they probably learned from Spinner onto the sidewalk in chalk. Spinner and Keigo are hanging out in front of Spinner’s house, talking something over with Magne. And your front lawn might be dead as a doornail, but all the lights are on inside your house.

You park in the driveway and start ferrying things up to the house. The door swings open before you can even think of unlocking it, and Phantom races to greet you, barking and whining until you set the leftovers on the porch swing and crouch down to greet her. She licks your face, slurping the way she does when you’ve been sweating or crying. This time it was the latter.

When you turn to retrieve the leftovers, they’re gone. Inside the house, you hear the refrigerator open and shut. “I can carry that stuff,” you say to Tomura. “Don’t burn through too much energy.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Tomura’s down to a pair of hands as he drifts onto the porch, hands that seize your wrists and refuse to let go. “What are these?”

“I’ll explain,” you say. “I still have stuff to bring in.”

You bring in your purchase from the other store, knowing Tomura won’t look inside it unless you give him a reason to be suspicious, then devote your attention to wrestling the butterfly bush out of the backseat. Tomura eyes it suspiciously. “Where are you going to put that?”

You stop just before you remove it. You know from experience that once something leaves the car in the driveway, it’s fair game. “My boss and his family gave it to me,” you say. Tomura’s suspicious expression cranks up a notch. “It’s for you.”

Tomura blinks. “I’m going to bring it in. Don’t touch it yet,” you say. “I need to talk to you first.”

Tomura waits as you drag the butterfly bush in its pot into the yard, then up onto the porch, then through the door. He keeps quiet until after you’ve shut the door. “Can I have it now?”

“No,” you say. You’ve got a not-insignificant suspicion that Tomura is going to jump you the instant he’s fully materialized, and you don’t want to try to have this conversation while he’s trying to make out with you. But now he’s waiting, clearly impatient, and all at once you forget what you were planning to say. “Um –”

“Did they give you that tree just because they had it?”

“No,” you say, startled. “I asked if I could have it. I wanted to see you. My boss’s son, he said you could probably get two weeks of full materialization out of it, but I think there’s a good chance he underestimated your power level, and –”

The butterfly bush crumbles to ash so quickly it’s hard to imagine it was there in the first place. Tomura’s feet hit the floor, and a moment later, he jumps you. Literally jumps you – he’s taller than you are, but he tangles himself around you until both his feet are off the ground. He’s solid, and heavy, and you’re not at all prepared to take the weight of a fully embodied ghost. You collapse backwards, barely managing to tuck your chin and avoid smacking the back of your skull against the floor. Tomura takes the change from vertical to horizontal completely in stride. Whatever he’s planning, it’s not impeded by the fact that Phantom is racing in excited circles around the two of you.

You’re worried he’s going to kiss you, or go after your clothes the way Dabi’s apparently made a habit of doing to Keigo. Instead Tomura stretches out on top of you, apparently unconcerned with where his elbows and knees are going, and buries his head in your shoulder. Or your neck. He can’t seem to decide which one he prefers.

You put up with a few seconds of ghost cuddling before you ask. “Tomura, what are you doing?”

“Saw it in a movie.” A puff of cold air hits the side of your neck. “Wanted to try.”

“In this movie you saw, were they on the floor?” you ask, exasperated. “If we’re going to keep this up, we’re moving it to the couch.”

“I don’t want to move.”

“Tough luck. I don’t want to cuddle with you on the floor.” You roll him off of you, get to your feet, and book it to the living room, flopping down on the couch a split second before Tomura flops down on you. “Here’s fine, though.”

Tomura gets comfortable again, complaining under his breath, but once he’s settled, he goes quiet and still. “You’re like a weighted blanket,” you say nonsensically. “I didn’t think this was going to be the first thing you did.”

“I want that later. I want this now.” Tomura goes quiet again for a few moments. “Those things your boss gave you are strong. I didn’t see you until you were here. Why do you have them?”

It occurs to you why Tomura might be concerned. “They’re for hiding me when I’m out there. From other ghosts. Or conjurers.”

“You went there to find out about conjurers,” Tomura says. You’re surprised he remembered that. Or surprised he asked about it. Or both. “Did you?”

“About one of them,” you say. “The last name on Aizawa’s list. My boss thinks, um – he thinks that one might be yours.”

“Mine,” Tomura repeats. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you say. You don’t want to get into the rest of it – the conjurer’s MO, whatever made Tomura different, what Mr. Yagi’s afraid will happen if – when – you die. Not when it’s calm like this. Not when you feel like you’re breathing for the first time in weeks, in spite of the fact that you’re currently being flattened by a ghost. “But my boss and his wife met when he was still a ghost. Someone made the bracelets so other ghosts and conjurers couldn’t find her.”

“Why would they care about someone else’s human?” Tomura sounds like the concept’s never occurred to him. “Just get your own.”

You knew you were right about this. You tell yourself that being right is a relief. “My boss loves his wife. He loved her even when he was a ghost. The best way for somebody to hurt him was to hurt her, and somebody really wanted to hurt him. So she wore these. To be safe. And now his powers have faded, so she gave them to me.”

It’s quiet again. “I don’t like that I can’t see you,” Tomura says.

“I’ll take them off once I’m in the neighborhood,” you say. “So you’ll know I’m there.”

Tomura makes an indistinct sound you can probably read as agreement and makes himself comfortable again. When it becomes clear that he’s not moving any time soon, you wrap your arms loosely around him. Tomura makes another indistinct sound. “What are you doing?”

“Holding you,” you say. “People do that.”

“Weird.” Tomura doesn’t stir. After a few minutes of lying there, one of your hands resting between his shoulder blades and one on the small of his back, you cautiously sneak one hand up to fiddle with the ends of his hair.

It’s tangled. There’s only so much you can do one-handed, but you get to work anyway, strangely comforted by the texture of it between your fingers. Tomura lifts his head slightly when you tug at one of the tougher knots. “Why are you doing that? It’s just going to get tangled again the next time I dematerialize.”

“I can fix it next time, too.” Maybe with a brush. “Do you care?”

“No.” Tomura answers fast. “It’s – nice. A lot of it is nice.”

You wonder what ‘it’ is in this case. Being corporeal? Being in physical contact with you? The physical contact you’re initiating? It doesn’t really matter. It’s all physical sensation to him, some good and some bad, and you’re the person who provides it. Tomura doesn’t care about you beyond that. It makes sense that he wouldn’t worry about you the way Mr. Yagi worries about Inko. The way any other ghost in the neighborhood worries about their human.

You’re not upset about it. You’ll take what you can get. And if what you can get is a few minutes cuddling on the couch before your ghost decides he’d rather make out, that’s still more than you expected when you came home tonight.

[goldenempyrean]

i have a supergirl request for sick alex at the deo with prompt “Goodness, you look like your about to pass out.”   “Don't come too close. You don’t wanna catch this.”   And “It's chaos here. I can't just stop working because I have the sniffles.”  if thats okay? x female reader please

Wintertime Woes

〚 Notes - I am loving these Alex requests recently :D Also the amount of content I'm feeding you all with lately damn, I'm in my "let's write 95 stories in a day and don't sleep" era. Enjoy while it lasts :,)〛

〚 Pairing - Alex Danvers x Reader 〛

〚 Summary - During a flu outbreak at the DEO, Alex falls ill and tries to push through her responsibilities despite her worsening condition. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 1200 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

╚════════ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ════════╝

Winter had always been Alex’s favourite season. The crisp, cool air and the occasional pile of unmeted snow that covered the curbs somehow always made her feel calm. She loved it all. However, there were inconveniences to the wintertime, namely slippery roads, frigid hands, and most prominently, sickness. 

The flu had been sweeping its way through the DEO - it was bound too this time of year. With so many agents working in such close contact it was almost impossible to avoid. Not matter their rank or importance, it eventually made its way round the squad’s and not even the Director herself was spared. 

Alex stood woozily in the control area, her hand clutching a crumpled-up tissue as she leant over the main desk, her other clumsily rubbing at her temple. She looked awful. Your soft hand came to slide round her waist from behind and the exhausted woman sank into your touch. 

She coughed into her tissue, “Don’t come too close, you don’t want to catch this.” Alex warned through her croaking voice, yet she made no effort to move away. 

“I’ll take that risk. You weren’t sick this morning, what happened?” You mumbled worriedly, burying your head into her neck, prompting her to rest her head against yours. 

“The flu is characterised by a rapid on-set of symptoms. It’s been spreading like wildfire around here, you know that.” Alex whispered before her voice broke off into a hitch. 

You felt her body tense up, and you quickly reached for a nearby tissue box, pulling out a fresh one and handing it to her just in time. Alex sneezed loudly, and you could tell she was trying her best to suppress it, but her body couldn't hold it back any longer. 

“Bless you!” Kara called out as she came flying into the building (she’d just finished assisting the fire department with an accident downtown) 

“And again, my my, bless you love.” You repeated her sister’s words, gently rubbing Alex's back as she sneezed for the second time. Her body felt warm against your touch, and you knew she was hopelessly fighting a fever. 

"Thanks," Alex rasped weakly, her voice flooded with congestion as she pulled out of your hold to grab some tissues to blow her rapidly reddening nose.  

"It's chaos here. I can't just stop working because I have the sniffles," Alex replied with a weak smile, trying to maintain her composure despite feeling so unwell. She knew her responsibilities at the DEO were crucial, after all, without her there to manage and dispatch agents who would keep things running smoothly? 

She was stubborn, that was sure. It took another hour of misery before Alex reluctantly gave in and gave shuffling into the room where you were training some new recruits. 

“Alright guys, that’s enough for today.” You dismissed the group, letting them leave the room before opening your arms and letting the feverish woman fold into them, “Your breathing sounds awful y’know.” You sighed, at the small raspy breathes coming from the woman in your hold. 

“I’ve been told.” She muttered, keeping herself close to you, sniffling against your shoulder. 

You shook your head lightly, “We should get you laying down. Come on.” 

She continued to sniffle and sneeze as you gently guided her towards the infirmary. Her steps were slow and unsteady as the two of you made your way. Though you practically had to carry her up the stairs the two of you finally got her there, being met at the door by Kara and Lena. 

“I called her,” Kara explained as Alex curled herself onto one of the medical beds. 

Lena approached with a concerned expression, placing a hand on Alex's forehead before scanning a thermometer along her brow. "39 degrees, you're burning up, Alex. You should’ve rested when you first felt this coming on.” She said softly, glancing at you with gratitude for bringing Alex to the infirmary. 

Kara hovered nearby, her super hearing detecting Alex's irregular breathing and rapid heartbeat. "I'll grab some water and a cool cloth," she suggested, zipping away and returning quickly with the items. 

You stayed by Alex's side, gently wiping her forehead with the cool cloth as Kara handed her a glass of water. "Try to drink a little,love. It might help with the fever," you encouraged, giving her a reassuring smile as she held your hand, rubbing her thumb over your own. 

Alex took a few sips, but it was evident that she was struggling to keep herself composed. "I... I hate being so out of commission," she admitted weakly, her eyes showing a mix of frustration and vulnerability. 

Lena spoke softly, her caring tone trying to comfort her friend, “You need rest to recover properly. I’ve seen how hard you work yourself here, nobody’s going to forget that if you take a few days to look after yourself for a change.” 

Kara nodded in agreement, sitting by Alex's side. "We'll take care of the DEO for now. You just focus on getting better," she said, giving you an affirming nod. 

With concern etched on your face, you gently squeezed Alex's hand. "They're right, Alex. The DEO will be okay, and we'll handle things while you rest. You need to prioritize your health now." 

Alex's tired eyes softened as she looked at you, appreciating the support from her friends and you. "Okay," she finally relented, realizing that she couldn't keep pushing herself like this. "But promise me you'll keep me updated on everything?" 

"We promise," Lena replied, speaking for both her and Kara. "You can count on us." 

Kara placed a reassuring hand on Alex's shoulder. "And I'll keep checking in on you, Lena’s gonna write you a prescription for some Tamiflu, I’ll pick it up and drop it off for you tonight. 

With that said, you helped the shivering Director from the bed, letting her lean fully against you as you led her from the building. Where a DEO issued car was already waiting to pick you both up. 

During the ride, Alex gave into her exhaustion and fell asleep against your shoulder. You held her close, running your hand through her silky hair. By the time you’d reached her studio, Alex was completely passed out. Nothing short of a city-wide invasion would be waking her now.  

Carrying her up to her room, you made sure to tuck her safely into bed, gently pulling off her uniform and changing her into some softer, more comfortable clothes before climbing into the open space beside her, smiling as even in her sleep she snuggled up beside you. 

“Sleep well baby.” You whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her head, “and you will be definitely taking a sick day tomorrow, Director Danvers.” 

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[todoroki-waifu]

Super late, but this is from the poll results! Thank you again to those who voted. :)

Itadori x Reader

Warning: Gender neutral reader, a small, slightly suggested part, and cursing.

Scenario: How Itadori shows he really cares for you.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1,896

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

You returned from your two day mission late that evening, exhausted and sore. You also didn't recover from the previous missions that were given to you prior to the one you just came back from. Because of your abilities and the rising numbers of high grade curses, you were needed more frequently. You either went solo or in a group, but lately it's just been you.

"Good morning, everyone." A yawn is laced with your greeting as you walk  towards the entrance of the dormitories. The others were training, but stopped when they saw you.

"Good morning? It's already evening!" Itadori straightens up from his defensive stance to rush over to you.

"__(y/n)! It's been forever!" Kugisaki beats Itadori and has her arms wrapped around your body.

"I know, I've been a bit busy with these assignments." You returned her embrace.

"I'm gonna yell at Gojo-sensei for taking you away from me. I'm getting hives from being around these two monkeys for so long." She jests as Fushiguro sends her a glare while Itadori raises a brow.

"You might have to hold on just a bit longer. I'm leaving again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Already?" Itadori was starting to agree with Nobara about scolding their white haired sensei.

"Yeah, but it's at night! Hopefully it'll just be a one day kind of thing."

"I hope so! Anyway, go get settled. We're finished here then we're gonna make some hot pot."

You nod at the three of them, agreeing to join them later once you finish taking a shower and changing into comfortable and intact clothes. Yuji leaves Megumi and Kugisaki to walk with you back inside.

"You sure you're gonna be okay going tomorrow?" He then grabs your bag and belongings, offering to hold them for you. You attempt to get them back, but Yuji wants to help. Even if it's something as tiny as this.

"Yeah, I mean...I don't really have a choice, but even if I did, I'd still take it. There's people in danger so I want to do this."

"You're over exhausting yourself." He frowns at the consequences your body may potentially suffer.

"I'll be fine. Promise." You give him a smile as you make your way towards your room. Once in front of your dorm, that was when you both departed to get ready for dinner.

You're gathered on one table with a boiling pot of soup and various ingredients scattered around. You thanked those who prepared it since none of them allowed you to help and instead encouraged you to rest. A few minutes into dinner and your body was starting to crave sleep.

"Whoa, hey, you okay?" Itadori sees your head in an alternating up and down motion with your eyes fluttering and bowl almost tilting forward. He puts down his own bowl to stabilize yours as you finally lift your head up.

"Sorry! I just got so tired suddenly."

"We can save you some if you want to go to bed." Megumi suggests and you shake your head.

"I'm hungry, too. Wish there was a way I could both eat and sleep at the same time." You tried to rub the sleepiness from your eyes.

"Oi, why don't you feed them? They can barely hold their bowl. Help them out." Nobara points her chopsticks at Yuji.

"M-me?!" A red tint develops across his face.

"Duh, of course you! You're the one sitting next to them."

Itadori grabs your utensil and dish, picking up some noodles before telling you that he'd assist feeding you.

"You mean I can close my eyes and eat? Perfect!" You turn your body to face Itadori with your eyes shut and mouth open to accept some food. Itadori's blush only deepened and he could feel his blood was being directed elsewhere.

"Oh my God!" He shouts suddenly, earning confused stares from his friends.

"What happened?" You ask and Itadori shakes his head.

"No-nothing. Sukuna was just being...funny."

"Fuck you, kid. You know you were thinking the same thing." A toothy grin appears on his right cheek, making Itadori yell at the cursed spirit residing in him.

"He's having a moment...Fushiguro, you go feed __(y/n)." Your brown haired friend elbows the shikigami user and he starts to stand up.

"N-no! I got it. Just give me a sec." The pink haired boy was able to quiet a laughing Sukuna before focusing on you. You went back to your previous position and Itadori had to bite down on his tongue to fight off another blush. He thought back on how tired and hungry you were which redirected his concentration.

Yuji made sure that the food wasn't too hot or too big for you to bite on. He kept a steady pace and managed to find a way to feed himself in between. After a few more bites and enjoying being fed by your crush, you took back your bowl. It was fun to see his reaction, but found it sweet at how determined he was that you fulfilled your nutritional intake for the day.

Once everyone was satisfied with warm and full bellies, you attempted to wash the dishes. Again, none of them allowed you and Kugisaki sent Itadori to bring you upstairs.

"You should get some rest." He starts leading you to your room.

"Not yet! I've missed you!" You immediately swerve in front of him then your eyes widen at what you just said. "A-and Nobara! And Megumi, too! I haven't hung out with you guys in a long time."

"Well, Kugisaki and Fushiguro are gonna head to bed early since they leave for a mission in the morning. Mine isn't until the afternoon so I can hang out with you if you don't mind just me?"

"Of course, not! I love hanging out with you. C'mon." You grabbed his hand, dragging him to your room. You both occupied your bed, you leaning against the headboard while Itadori was laying sideways on the foot of your bed.

Within a few minutes while Itadori was catching you up on the past few weeks, you were nodding off again until you plopped on the bed. The pink haired vessel wasn't offended, instead was relieved that you finally accepted some sleep.

He carefully maneuvers you into a better position, covering you up to your shoulders with your blanket. As he adjusts the pillow under your head, he frowns at the number of bandages and bruises on your person. He then exits the room after turning off the lights, pulling out his phone to dial his teacher's number.

"Itadori? What's up?"

"Please let me take __(y/n)'s mission."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I know they have one tomorrow night. Let me take that instead and switch theirs with mine."

"Why?" Gojo asks after a brief pause.

"Be-because I...I just..they've been, you know and I just-" He stutters, face and ears becoming warm. "Just let us switch! Please, sensei."

The white haired male exhales loudly before explaining the details of the case. "This is going to be a difficult one for you, Itadori. Based on __(y/n)'s abilities and technique, they could finish the job in 3 days, but for you, 6 days. Are you prepared for that?"

He had no idea that there was such a difference between yours and his fighting levels. Itadori was going to need to catch up so you didn't leave him behind or worse, be a burden to you.

"Yes. I'll take it. Do I need to wait until tomorrow? Can't I just go now?" Itadori had the energy and resolve plus if it was going to take him 6 days, maybe he could cut it down if he starts now.

"I don't see why not, but be aware that even if you leave now, you're only shaving off maybe...half a day earlier. Anyway, pack your things. I'll send a ride for you in 20 minutes."

--------

It's been almost a week since you last saw Itadori and when you noticed the changes to your assignments. They've become lighter and you were able to finally work with Megumi and Nobara again. You also found out that Itadori had swapped missions with you and you were anxiously waiting for him to return so you could question why.

As you sit on the front steps of the dorm, you see a familiar white and pink haired teacher and student. You're the only one to greet them since Nobara went shopping and Megumi was visiting his sister.

"Yuji! You're all beat up." He sees concern swimming in your __(e/c) eyes.

"I'm okay, promise! That curse was a tough one, but I did it!"

"I heard what you did. Why did you switch our missions? Were you afraid that I couldn't handle it?"

"Wha-no! That's not it at all!" Itadori fidgets in his spot, trying to explain it in a way that doesn't devalue your sorcery skills. Behind Itadori, you see Gojo a few feet away, laughing quietly at the boy who was in love with you. Your teacher makes an outline of a heart with two fingers then points at Itadori.

Ah, now you understand.

"I didn't think that you couldn't handle it. I just felt like you were being overworked and I wanted to help you. I wanted to relieve at least a bit of your workload because you deserve some rest, too. And you know, teamwork makes the dream work...ahehe..."

Gojo slaps a hand over his blindfold, shaking his head at Itadori's missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he felt. But you already knew what he was trying to say. Maybe it was time for you to make yours a bit more obvious.

"Thank you, Yuji." You take one step towards him, aiming your lips to his cheek. Instead of feeling a soft, somewhat flat surface, another pair of lips touch yours. You gasped, pulling away as you realized that you had kissed Sukuna's mouth and not Yuji's cheek.

"Sukuna!! What the hell?!" Yuji places his hand over the side of his face, covering the cursed spirit.

"Hey now, I did most of the work so I should be getting some kind of reward, too."

"Well, thank you, Sukuna, for all your hard work." You cut off their bickering and you move to the other side of Yuji's cheek. However, a mouth and eye were staring at you, showing off a toothy grin. Before Yuji yells at the King of Curses, you press your lips to his, finding that it was a safe place where Sukuna couldn't appear.

You removed yourself after a few seconds, giving Yuji a sweet smile. "You should probably shower and change. I'll make you some food. It's tiring after a long mission."

"S-sure!" He nods then jogs to the dorm entrance, but immediately stops to turn back to you. He plants a quick kiss to your lips this time, a big grin decorating his face as he walks back to his room.

You giggle at the extra energy Yuji has in his stride, happy that he returned to you in one piece and with a surprise. Gojo comments about how both of them are going to be a handful, but you knew that already. You love all of Yuji, even the King of Curses that resides in him.

[eveningstxrr]

hii!! i love ur account so much<33 could i request a lancelot x reader where reader is meliodas and elizabeth’s child and her, tristan and lancelot have a sleepover and lancelot and reader end up cuddling eachother? tysm<3

✮ ˛˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ✮ ˛˚

synopsis: the tristan platoon are supposed to be having a sleepover together, and as the prince’s younger sibling, naturally you’re invited to join them. however, lancelot is there too and he makes it his goal to get on your nerves. but, there’s nothing a good cuddle can’t fix!

content warning: fluff, ooc lancelot since he’s relatively new to me, reader is tristan’s younger sibling, lance and the reader bicker a lot.

author’s note: i’m glad you enjoy my content, thank you for this request anon!! i hope it’s up to your taste!! like i said, lance is new to me so he might be a bit out of character, but i really enjoyed writing for him!!

word count: 2.4k

✮ ˛˚ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✮ ˛˚

IT’S A FAIRLY NORMAL DAY IN LIONES, you’re out and about doing your normal royal duties which consists of assisting the villagers, dropping off some weird magical artifacts and herbs for hendrickson, assisting more villagers. you know, the usual. by the time you’re finished with all your duties, it’s dusk and you’re covered in grime and sweat.

you wave goodbye to the nice family you were helping out before mounting your horse alexander to head back to the castle, your pace is much slower than what you usually go by. you want to get home as soon as possible to take a nice long bath and get something to eat, sure, but at the same time, you longed to watch as the sun descended behind the clouds. it’s not everyday you get to do that with how busy you are nowadays.

your mind wanders as you ride. you take in the cool breeze, shivering when the wind blows a little too harshly. if you catch a cold neither your mother nor your older brother would let you hear the end of it. they’d baby you ‘till you can no longer stand it.

speaking of your brother, you wonder what he’s up to. ever since he was officially established as a knight of the apocalypse, you’ve barely seen him. he’s either out doing one thing or the other with his platoon or training to get stronger.

truth be told, you miss being able to do runs like these together. you sigh sadly as you recount the times you guys would prolong your outings to get some snacks or watch the sun set, sometimes you guys would wait ‘till the sky is filled with nothing but the twinkling stars. your father would always give you both an earful but he gave up after a while seeing as it was reoccurring. it became routine. but now, you can barely say good morning to tristan, sometimes you don’t see him for days on end. it’s lonely but you don’t want to express that empty feeling, he’s busy enough as is. you’ll just spend your days playing with the children of the village to pass time.

as the castle comes into view, you slow down even more, taking your sweet time before you’ll have to depart from your beloved steed. “welcome back, your highness,” the guards at the castle’s entrance greet as you trot in. you wave to them as you hop off alexander's back, leading him over to the stables where the horse tender takes him off your hands.

you stretch, popping your back and shoulders as you walk down the large halls of liones castle, heading up to your room to take a quick bath. by the time you’re out and ready to relax, the sun is out of view and the moon has begun to peek out from the horizon. “the days seem to be going faster now,” you mummer, “winter is closely approaching.”

you shut the door to your room behind you as you make your way to the kitchen. your stomach had been growling throughout your bath and the maid helping you had left to prepare something as per your request. as you draw near to the grand kitchen, you hear hushed whispers and little squeals which elicits a raised eyebrow of curiosity.

you peek into the kitchen, and lo and behold, your brother and his platoon are there all dressed in comfortable pyjamas as they gather some snacks. your snacks. you love your brother, you really do, but nobody takes your snacks.

“i’m gonna whoop his—“

“what’re you doing, y/n?”

you let out a screech, your soul almost leaving your body. you turn back to face the person who’d come up behind you, and your eyes meet lancelot’s ruby ones. he looks down at you, his arms are crossed over his chest, and he has an eyebrow raised in his typical sassy fashion.

“lancelot, you scared me…” you huff out, standing up straight. you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. this is not a good look for you.

“you should’ve heard me coming up behind you. don’t tell me you’ve been getting sloppy with your perceptive skills, your highness,” he leans closer to you, getting far too close for your liking.

“of course not! i was just… preoccupied,” you lie through the skin of your teeth, turning your head away to stare into the dimly lit hallway. lancelot says nothing in response, but gives you a teasing smile in return.

“sure, princess. sure.” he obviously doesn’t believe you. he pats your shoulder and walks into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets and back hunched in terrible posture just like his dad. god these two are so alike.

“princess y/n!” isolde squeals in delight, engulfing you in a warm hug the minute you step into the kitchen. you can’t help but grin when she scoops you into her arms, holding you off the floor to nuzzle her cheeks against yours. isolde gives the best hugs, hands down.

“hey, isolde. long time no see, eh?”

from the corner of your eye, you see jade waving to you and next to him is chion who just gives you a stare before turning his attention back to your older brother. typical.

“y/n! when did you get back?” tristan is quick to give you his own hug when isolde sets you back onto your feet. you wrap your arms around him and take a moment to relish in his warmth before answering his question.

“about an hour ago. i was in the bath.”

your brother hums in response, giving you a squeeze before he pulls away. “we were about to have a sleepover, would you like to join us?”

a sleepover, huh? that explains the pj’s and the snack theft. but, it sounds like a nice way to unwind. why not? it wouldn’t hurt, right? you follow after the tristan platoon and lancelot as you all make your way to your brother’s bedroom, the site for the sleepover tonight.

“i’m surprised you stuck around, lance,” you look towards the blonde who scratches his nape, heaving a sigh at the nickname. he doesn’t dislike it, really. he finds the intimacy in nicknames quite comforting, but when you call him that, he gets all nervous and jittery. he hates that feeling, it’s too out of character for him.

“didn’t i tell you not to call me that?”

you let out a huff at his comment. he should know by now that you’ll use every opportunity you have to annoy him. “aw but, lance,” you make sure to stress the name, silently snickering when he side eyes you, his face bearing an exasperated expression. “i’ve been calling you this since we were in diapers! why does it matter now?”

lancelot rolls his eyes at you, your shit eating grin serving to piss him off further. however, he makes no move to speed up his walking pace, it’s not like he’s actually mad at you. a little annoyed, sure, but, you’re the only one in the group he can actually stand so he might as well swallow the teasing. “cram it, princess.”

you let out a fake gasp of offence, dramatically placing your hand onto your chest. “lancelot! how vulgar!” you hear tristan snicker as lancelot lets out a loud groan in response to your antics.

when the lot of you finally reach the prince’s bedchamber, jade is quick to run in and flop onto the big mattress, sighing in content as he practically melts into the cotton. you follow suit and cuddle up to one of the pillows. the familiar smell of lavender immediately engulfs you and fills your senses, bringing back nostalgic memories that run as far back to your toddler days.

you clutch the pillow tight, thanking whatever deity that’s out there for allowing you this chance. they must have taken pity on you when you were reminiscing earlier and granted this opportunity. when the space beside you dips, you look over to see lancelot and notice how he still has his shoes on, not caring if the white bed sheets get dirty because of them.

“how crude of you to get on the bed with shoes on. dirty shoes no less.” lancelot’s left eye twitches at the jab you’d made. you’re seriously making him contemplate not being as nice to you as he normally is. so much for being the most tolerable one of the group.

“i suggest you watch what you say to me, princess,” he folds his arms over his chest, kicking off his shoes nonetheless. you cringe when they hit the wall with a thunk.

“what will you do if i don’t, hm, lance?” you egg him on, shooting him a pointed look. he scoffs at you.

“you really want to find out, princess?”

“alright, you two, no more fighting!” isolde scolds from her place at the foot of the bed, her cheeks puffed out in a pout. tristan nods in agreement.

“isolde’s right, we’re here to have fun and relax. put your bickering aside for tonight, please?”

you and lancelot side eye each other but grumble out your respective affirmations. tristan smiles at your compliance.

“now, let the fun begin!!”

remember when you said that partaking in this sleepover wouldn’t be a bad thing? yeah, you take that back. wanna know why? lancelot made it his mission to annoy you tonight.

you’re playing hide and seek? he’s making sure to scout you out first. you’re playing card games? get ready to lose five times in a row. it’s like he gets off at your misery. maybe you should ask his mom to teach you how to conceal your thoughts because this is just getting ridiculous.

“aaaand, i win, again! you really suck at this, princess,” lancelot gives you a smug smirk and it takes all your self restraint to not jump over the table and start brawling with him, but you’d probably lose at that too, so you just pout in annoyance instead.

“that’s just by luck, don’t get cocky!”

“mhm, sureeeeee.”

sensing that your patience has thinned considerably, tristan is quick to intervene. you really might start a fight with lancelot and that’s the last thing you all need. meliodas would definitely give you an earful about how “you need to conduct yourself with decorum,” even though he acts the exact same when your uncle ban pisses him off.

“how about we head to bed? it’s gotten really late,” the silver-haired prince smiles, already packing away the cards.

“oh come on, what’s one more round? the princess seems to be dying for another rematch.”

lancelot disregards the glare you send his way, your brother sighs. “y/n, do you want to play one more round?”

you see a flicker of pleading pool in his different coloured eyes and shake your head. you’ll get lancelot back at your own time, you guess.

“aw, scared i’ll kick your ass again, your highness?”

“shut the fuck up or i’ll shove those cards up your ass,” you hiss at him.

“oh, yeah? how crude of you to speak in such a vulgar way, princess.”

your eye twitches in response to his teasing and isolde is quick to hold you back from doing something you would most definitely regret when morning comes.

“that’s enough! to bed, both of you!”

you pout when tristan takes on a scolding tone of voice, grumbling about how lancelot started it. the man in question just shrugs. if all he had to do was annoy you to get so many cute reactions from you, he might as well make it into a habit. you already do this with him everyday, surely you can take what you dish out.

finally, you all settle into the king sized bed all ready to fall asleep, but there’s one tiny problem. lancelot is right behind you, breathing down your neck. when isolde suggested you all cuddle up on tristan’s bed, you didn’t mind being squished together with your childhood friends and your older brother, but having lancelot behind you was not ideal. it’s not like you hate him or anything, really, you don’t. it’s the opposite actually. you like him, that’s the problem, and you fear that he can hear your heart palpitating or he can hear your thoughts spiralling out of control at how close he is. you can feel his warmth bleeding into your skin. he’s so, so warm.

“can you please stop thinking so loud, princess? it’s hard to get some shut eye when all i hear is how warm i am.” your soul almost leaves your body when lancelot whispers into your ear, his breath tickling your sensitive skin. you want to crawl into a hole and die there.

“…sorry.”

lancelot can’t hold back the chuckle that escapes him and wraps an arm around you. he leans in close enough to give you a teasing peck on your neck, fully aware of how sensitive you are. “go to sleep, princess.”

gosh, now there’s really no hope for you.

“aww, they’re so cute!!”

“shh… don’t wake them!”

you’re pulled out of your peaceful slumber at the hushed whispers around you. what the hell are the yapping about so early in the morning?

“shut your traps,” you hear lancelot’s voice come out in an annoyed grunt and feel his arms tighten around you. hold on, his what tightened around you?

your eyes flutter open and you see that you’re pressed against his chest, giving you a front row seat to the ethereal sight of the sun illuminating his face just right. wow, he really is a fairy. it’s not fair how beautiful he is, especially so early in the morning.

“like what you see, princess?”

when your eyes meet his ruby ones, you feel as if you’ve died and reached heaven. he grins down at you. you were too busy admiring him that you couldn’t even say anything back, huh?

“good morning to you too, i guess.”

you’re snapped out of your daze and push him away, quickly getting up and making up some half assed excuse before running out of the room. isolde chases after you, fully set on teasing you while the others, with the exception of chion, try to make sure the both of you don’t wake up the entire palace. lancelot chuckles, the image of your flustered face will forever be in the back of his mind. yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

@𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐗𝐑𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬

[whump-place]

Bad to Worse to... Comfort?

4-We'll make it work.

Masterlist.

"Hi! Again... Huh. You..."

You can do this. You can do this Breathe!

You've dealt with worse, why are you stuttering now? It's not you the one that needs to be comforted, it's he!

It's half of your duty to help him, you got yourself into this, now take the responsibility!

You remember your practice, the way you were instructed to introduce yourself anytime you meet a civil. There isn't any fire, nor a obvious threat for public safety, but you can as well use that, that'll help you get yourself together.

"Hi. My name is ... I'm an agent of the U&H corporation, I'm in the public security department. I apologize for I haven't introduced myself properly since the beginning. May I know your name?"

You did it perfectly! No stuttering, and your voice wasn't filled by the previous panic and nervousness that got you before, you did it well.

Even so, the boy at your feet seems confused at best. Did you speak too fast? Maybe he's still scared?

Whatever it is, you can handle it! Maybe.

"Good morning, master"

His voice makes your body jump. His voice is... Well, calmer than yours. For some reason you feel like he's the one that's calm and you are the one panicking.

"Good... Good morning"

The stuttering returns to your voice, what are you doing?!

"Did you...? Ehem. Do... Do you have a name...?"

The reply is instant. He even tilts his head a little, almost as if he was the one worried for you.

"I do, master"

You wait a moment, praying for him to continue. To say his name, or anything at all, so you don't have to take the lead in the conversation, but he doesn't. He stays still, not saying another word.

His palms rest against his thighs, straight back, head bowed. He's... surprisingly well trained.

"Oh, good! Good. And what is it?"

"It's 'Mutt', master"

Okay. Now he's shaking.

"No, I mean... your name. Not... Not that."

What looked like an easy talk at first soon became an almost impossible task.

In a blink, the boy that seemed quiet and easy to talk to, became a sobbing mess. What was wrong? What happened?

"I... I...- I'm sorry? Is your name something, huh, personal? For you? I-I won't ask for it again!"

You look around the room, looking for anything that could help you. You can't spend another day without knowing his name, you need a name to call him, now that you know he can listen and speak correctly, but if his name -or the way he was called-, is a sensitive matter to him, then you need to come up with a solution soon.

In the corner of the room, on the nightstand, you spot an ashtray that you forgot was there. You don't even smoke, it was mostly a decoration. It looked elegant, for some reason.

"Ash! Ash! How about that? We can use it! Please, please, just- just don't cry, please?"

Was that the first thing you can come up?!

Well. It can work, right? A short name. A real name, at least for now. Something to call him. Okay.

Now that you are calm, you turn around, praying to find the boy- Ash, a little better now.

Surprisingly, he does look calmer now. Was his name that triggering for him?

It doesn't matter, you can work with that.

"Ash?"

"Master... Master... Master..."

He curls up on the floor. That's... No, that's okay. He isn't crying anymore, and he's doing his best to calm himself, or at least that's what you think he's doing.

Idk if you liked the nickname, honestly that was the first thing I had in mind 😭

Taglist:

•@whumpsday

•@thethistlegirl

•@wishiwaskidnapped

•@mylovelyme

•@winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts

•@hadihaz

•@foresttheblep

•@rainbowsandwhumperflies

[reineyday]

i posted this mishanks fic where shanks takes calculus 1 as an elective for fun thinking rayleigh's gonna teach it only to be confronted with ray's TA mihawk teaching the class instead.

in the a/n i mentioned that mihawk's having a bad morning and shares an open-concept office with the other warlords, all doing their phd's in the same department, and someone asked what they were specializing in. i thought about it enough that i figured i'd just post my reply here too. 😂 i am but a humble bfa-haver, so if any of these topics seem wrong or unlikely, let me know! 🥲 it's all based on their devil fruits (if they have them).

i was thinking mihawk is probably getting a doctorate of philosophy in mathematics, inspired long ago by his swordsmanship practice (both in meditation and in analysis of movement and connection) and tendency toward logic and rational thinking. he also likes problem-solving. rayleigh has a joint appointment professor job at new world, and while he teaches mostly hard mathematics, he also teaches philosophy courses. mihawk is following a similar path of research, and thus chose him as a supervisor.

i think it might be interesting if boa was studying philosophy as related to the subject of love and logic. rayleigh is her supervisor as well, because he did his own thesis back in the day on picking apart aristotle's body of research in the modern lens, and she's focusing on aristotle's three sources of affection/types of objects that are loved and lovable (the good, the pleasant, and the useful). she probably has to be talked down from some heavy-handed metaphors on turning to stone lol.

croc is probably studying something that has to do with the physical properties and manipulation of sand, especially in its power to change topographies over time, and perhaps branching into individual uses of sand as a method of force. he probably thinks about sandblasters too much.

moria... hmm, sciography (study of shadows) and the neurological and psychological effects differently-shadowed spaces have on a person. sciography is something that mostly architects use when designing spaces, but he's interested more in the effect on one's psyche in (un)lit spaces as opposed to the art and design of it all.

kuma uuhhhh actually kuma's devil fruit is already pretty philosophical, seeing as how he can repel actual concepts. if you can repel pain and fatigue, what's stopping him from repelling something like gender, or time? so he could be doing research on human constructs in society and challenging the way society is structured, but that seems more like a humanities subject so maybe he's researching actual physics and delving into something extremely niche about how things get repelled on a molecular level, even by the human touch.

doffy's doing something in the physics field as well. something about gravity and thread and force and manipulation. no one's actually sure, they just know it always ends in him tying invisible string to literally anything and everything in the office and saying it's for his thesis whenever he pisses someone off, which is always. and yes, the worst thing about him is he's always getting good grades, which makes them wonder if it really IS for his thesis, which then makes them somehow even more pissed off, because there shouldnt be any good reason for tripping over all this goddamn thread all the time in the office. 🤦🏻‍♀️

and jinbe is studying movement in water and the human kinetics of it all, also inspired by the martial arts that he does. benefits of training in water, how it strengthens the muscles in different ways, etc. etc. mihawk is very interested to read his paper when he's finished haha.