#usually after or during writing in my free time)

[captain-joongz]

I'm sorry for bothering you... I really want you to write something. If it bothers you and you feel bad, just ignore it. The reader is in a long-term relationship with Soobin and a mature relationship. A nice meeting at home, a very slow sexual relationship and a marriage proposal in bed.

I really can't get this plot out of my mind

hello baby, it's not bothering me at all~ i'd love to write that for you! soft Soobin is so sweet and no matter how much i try to seem like a badass, deep down i'm a romantic and a sucker for proposals and weddings hehe so i enjoyed writing this piece too !

here you go, and i hope you enjoy yourself <3

warnings: unprotected sex, but otherwise not much, they're just so disgustingly sweet

word count: 1.8k

"You're late." Despite the words leaving your mouth the second you opened the door to Soobin, there was still an amused smile on your face. The man chuckled and leaned in to give you a chaste peck on the lips before bending down to take his shoes off.

"Sorry, baby, blame Beomgyu for it," he laughed and as soon as his feet were free he launched over to pull you into a tight hug.

"Beomgyu? Why him?" "I don't know, everything's his fault somehow." You didn't even have the time to laugh before Soobin was eagerly pulling you deeper into the flat, the excitement rolling off of him in waves.

"Come on, baby, let's have a nice evening together," he announced into the quiet space, "I've got a nice surprise for you later." You laughed again, but ultimately followed after him.

"I swear to god Soob, if you pull out male edible thongs again, I'm going to spend our third anniversary digging your shallow grave and getting rid of the evidence." All you got in response was his raised eyebrow and jokingly disapproving look before you both stepped into the kitched and the prepared view came into sight.

You spend the afternoon cooking and baking, preparing a nice dinner for you two, so you could spend the time in the privacy of your shared flat. Not that you were against restaurants, but both of you sometimes prefered the peace and quiet your home offered you. Not to mention that you were terrible homebodies and loved the idea of spending your birthdays and anniversaries eating ice cream in pyjamas and playing Mario Kart.

The table was set for the two of you, decorated with lit candles and flowers, the pie you baked already prepared on a nice plate while the steaks were kept on the stove to preserve the heat.

"Hurry up baby, we have a lot to do today," Soobin urged you again, pulling you to the stove to to assist you while plating and somehow hoping he'd be able to hurry you along.

You noted his sudden eagerness, and it warmed your heart knowing your boyfriend was this excited about this milestone with you, and you couldn't help yourself and stole a few kisses off of the man whining for you to come to the table and eat.

Normally you could chalk this up to his hunger, but even during the duration of the dinner Soobin was strangely squirmy, his cheeks red and eyes blown wide with unexplainable elation. It was so stinking cute.

The anticipation was rolling off of him in waves, and he was just so chattery and joyful, it was enough to push happy tears into your eyes when the realisation that you've already been together for three years hit you. You had a feeling this was going to be one of the best anniversaries you guys would have together.

Like that the dinner flew by in a blink of an eye, the conversation flowing naturally and you both laughing the evening away and basking in your affection, spending the evening together channelling your love for one another.

Soobin insisted on cleaning up, and the strange excitement made itself known again as you watched his tall lanky figure flail around in the kitchen while you laughed at him and sipped on your wine.

But now it was time to move to the living room - because that's where the you two usually moved, to play or to watch something or to just settle down on the couch and talk.

As you started spreading the blankets on the sofa, fluffing up the pillows and moving the pie to the little table there, suddenly there was an over-grown excited puppy hanging off of your back.

"Binnie, I need to move so that we can sit down," you chided him softly, patting his arms wrapped around waist, but he seemed to have a different idea.

Feeling the light kisses on your neck, you giggled at the man lightly, playfully trying to push him away.

"Nu-uh mister, behave," you tried to worm out of his hold, but all you managed to do was turn around so now you were facing the man. He only smirked at you, before he gently kissed you again.

There was nothing easier than letting the man kiss you, the soft flow of your passion slowly clouding your mind when he didn't let up and instead pushed you closer together.

"Baby," was all he whispered and you knew it was useless trying to fight against him. Not that you wanted to anyway. Instead you looped your own hands around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.

You were stumbling through the halls tangled together like a duo of horny teenagers, romantic evening by the TV long forgotten the moment Soobin got his hands on you.

And it did make sense this was where you would end up with how eager he was that evening - and you enjoyed that, so much.

And that night was so special. Soobin was a versatile lover - he could be playful, he could be mean. That night he was so soft and gentle, laying you down on the bed and covering you with his body, hands softly caressing up your body as he kissed down your neck.

You wore a nice black dress, legs exposed for his big hands to grab at, and Soobin seemed to appreciate that.

Every gesture was full of slow passion - the way his hands gently slid the dress straps of your shoulders, his mouth following in its footsteps and loving on your collarbones, the way he so perfectly fit between your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips while he gently rolled into you, making both of your breaths hitch.

You had your hands tangled into his soft brownish hair and they bobbed together with the movements of his lazy wet kisses. Pushing your dress out of the way he put attention to your breasts, nipping the skin gently and sucking onto your nipples.

You found yourself writhing under him, back arched and pleas for more spilling out of your mouth, the small undulations of his hips driving you crazy and stoking your lust.

Before you knew it, you were both naked, tangled together naked skin on naked skin. You could taste the sweat on Soobin's lips as he rolled his hips into you slowly, savouring every moment. The look in his eyes spoke of intense love merging with lust, soaking the whole atmosphere with pure adoration.

It was beautiful.

He always knew how to please you so well, hitting you just right. Your moans pitched higher as you clenched on him, and the man himself stuttered, groans spilling out. You haven't made love like this in a long time, drowning in each other in affection, bodies moulding together, hands grabbing onto any piece of skin avalaible.

"I love you, baby," Soobin grunted out, hips stuttering. He was arching over you, drops of sweat rolling down his cheeks. His eyes were glassy and honest, everything spilling out of them.

You grabbed his cheeks and brought him closer to kiss again, tongues sliding together much like your bodies did, rhythm building as your climax neared.

"Love you, Soob," you cried out, "love you so much!"

He was desperately holding onto your thighs, hips smoothly thrusting into you, cock throbbing where it was pushed as far as it go and you clenched on him.

Everything burst and spiralled out of control, the pleasure overflowing and you both came, your body sucking his in deeper as you cried and moaned, the waves of ecstasy pulling you under the sweet blanket of buzzing pleasure. Soobin was moaning sweetly over you, riding out his own orgasm.

Once the high wore off, he plopped down next to you, immediately gathering you into his arms and pressing your sweaty overheating bodies together. You wanted to joke around and swatt him away, but the moment was so tender you let him smush you together while you were catching your breaths.

Calming down you started to feel a little cold now, but you indulge Soobin who was nervously shifting around next to you while playing with your hand.

With a big sigh he suddenly sat up and moved from the bed. You thought nothing of it, expecting him to just go to the bathroom and come back to clean you up, but then he was back next to you, pressing himself into your side.

You laughed at him gently and reached over to play with his hair, but Soobin was giving you the famed big eyed bunny look, worrying his lip between his teeth.

"This isn't exactly how I wanted to do this, but... I think it's perfect either way," he whispered into your neck and you made a confused sound.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, and then there was a little black jewellery box sitting on your naked stomach.

Everything froze that moment, even Soobin felt like he wasn't breathing while you took it in. The insane mix of emotions storming through you was making you speechless, hesitant but happy tears slowly swelling up in your eyes.

"Soobin..." you whispered, gently grasping the little box, "is this what I think it is?" His hands were back to caressing your sides, now warming you up after you cooled down so rapidly.

"Just open it," his voice barely audible, the nerves swallowing it all up. He was trying hard to stay still, but you could feel how tense he was.

Opening it, there was the most beautiful ring sitting there, one just like you wanted.

"I asked your bestie, she helped me choose," Soobin breathed with breathless chuckle into your shoulder, "Y/N... would you marry me?"

The chuckle that tumbled out of your mouth was wet with the backed up tears. "Of course I'll marry you, you dummy," you cried, tearing the ring out of the box and putting it on, angling your hand so you could admire it, before you turned to your now fiance and attacked his face with kisses.

It took a long time before you calmed down between all the breathless kisses and giggles and tears, settling down into the bed still tangled into an embrace that neither of you would break anytime soon.

You were too pumped and excited to fall asleep, and you could feel Soobin gently sniffling into your neck, the happiness pouring off of him in waves as his hands grabbed onto you and refused to let go, while you couldn't stop looking at and admiring your new ring.

And you know what? You were right.

This was the best anniversary you two had, and it would be for a while.

"Oh my god!" you suddenly exclaimed, tensing up. Soobin's head shot up from your shoulder, looking alarmed.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"I forgot to cover up the pie, it's gonna get dry." Soobin gave me a single look before bursting out laughing and pulling me back into bed.

divider by @cafekitsune

[lilbeetlebean]

I dunno what possessed me to decide to write this out but here we are. It is not proof-read or edited. I may come back and clean it up at some point but who knows.

Themes: slight enemies to friends, pinning, happy dunkardness + violence mentioned.

Ennjoooy :)

Outside of the Farm Wisp spent a good amount of her free time hanging at the tavern, often leaving far later than any sane farmer would dare.

She was slamming back a few beers when she heard the familiar bell ring as the front door was pushed open. In walked March most likely here for his evening meal after completing his own days work. Wisp bit her lip as her inner conflict kicked in. She had kind of been avoiding him since they had their Saturday market altercation over his comment a few days previously, but he HAD been right and she HAD asked Vera to cut her hair shorter. Her clear dew coloured eyes were a little cloudy from the alcohol she had consumed, as they stared into the contents of her glass. She took a sharp inhale, slammed the rest of her beer and turned to wave March over to the seat nested to her.

“March, c’mere sit with me, let me buy you a drink”

“Why?” His voice was flat, cold. Wisp pretended not to hear the tone and grinned up at his face her cheeks burning she assumed from the, was it 3 or 4 drinks she’s had?

“As a peace offering, for losing my temper the other day….”

“….And punching you”

“….alright ONE beer”

Her face beamed at that response, waving hemlock down and ordering two more pints for them. That warm fuzzy glow of drunkardness was beginning to make itself at home in the pit of her belly. She took another swig and before she could stop her mouth had started out on some long ranting apology of her earlier behaviour.

She was so frustrating, one day she’s physically attacking him, the next she’s completely ignoring his existence. He only knew this for fact as Olric had mentioned her asking when they wouldn’t be around the forage for her to be able to smelt down some ore she had recently acquired. Usually the infuriating woman had no problem invading his space during working hours to accomplish one of the many tasks she seemed to set out doing. It had been almost four days since he had even laid eyes on the brunette farmer.

March signed and pushed his hand through the front of his hair pushing it back out of his face only for it to flop right back into place. ‘At least She’ll stop by on Friday’ he thought to himself. Blinking once, twice March shook his head irritated by this thought. Why did he even know the exact timeframe he had last seen Wisp, and WHY did he even care if she stopped by on Friday.

He pushed the tavern door open, he must’ve been tired from work. A good meal and some rest would clear his mind of these thoughts. That’s when he heard his name being called from the corner by a familiar albe slightly slurred voice.

The first thing he noticed was her hair. It was significantly shorter than the last time. March scoffed, so that’s why she’s been avoiding him. She was to proud to admit her wrongness in their previous fight.

His head rested in his hand as he watched Wisp talk about her more recent finds within the mines, his one beer turning into three. With her hair finally out of her face he could clearly see the features of her face. This being the first time March had seen her not scowling or fighting or yelling or throwing hands at him. The sound of her laughter was like bells as she laughed at a cheesy bartending joke Hemlock had made that he hadn’t quite caught. A lopsided smile curled onto his lips as he continued to watch Wisp chatter away. Beaming, bright like a full moon.

“Huh…..she’s actually…kind of…….cute”

Wisps head whipped from the conversation she was having in his direction ‘shit did I say that out loud’

March quickly turned his head away a gentle hand coming to rest on his upper arm “hmm? Did you say something March ? Sorry Hemlock was just telling me about his latest concoction” her fingers wiggled in front of his face as she said Concoction and whatever breathe he had been holding in freed itself. She hadn’t heard him, thank god. March stood abruptly then hands resting in the bar surface “I have to go, early day tomorrow n’all. thanks for the dinner Hemlock” he placed the appropriate amount of tesserae on the countertop and rushed out the door.

Wisp looked surprised as she looked between the door where March had just exited and Hemlocks face increasingly hard to read in her current state.

[almost-emerald-eyes]

I don't know what to do with myself during summer break but school sucks too and literally like. what. what do I do. what do I like. do I have hobbies?? yeah, probably, but I haven't done them in so long that I can't anymore.

I haven't had real time to myself in so long that I don't know how to do that anymore

[flagellant]

Here you all go. Here's the answer to all the questions you never had about soy sauce and a single foreigner's totalitarian influence being a large part in leading to a massive decline in quality and a departure from important cultural traditions. There will never be a 2 hour video essay from me about this. There will never be a book about Blanche Appleton that I write. I had the closest thing I've had to a suicidal episode since I was 13 because of someone harassing me and deciding against literally all evidence that what I had in the end publicized was a racist and insensitive narrative rather than a carefully researched history pieced together with a team of multiple professional archivists internationally and a group of native Japanese speakers and Japanese academics.

I'll give all of you some free advice. Next time you get excited about your special interest on tumblr, don't talk about it.

I cannot fucking believe how much I'm losing my mind right now over soy sauce history. I'll tell all of you about it after I finish this essay because I need to un-distract myself enough to finish it but what the fuck? What the fuck is going on? I'm losing my fucking mind.

EDIT: if this is in your recommended page before you askme any questions about updates or whatever please just check the tag i'm using

EDITx2: this investigation is currently ongoing with live information being added as it is confirmed as relevant; I did not expect the entire internet to give a shit about soy sauce, and so early in the investigation there is quite a lot of outdated information, which has since been corrected, grown more in-depth, and begun to piece together into something more cohesive.

i am currently waiting on a response from the National Archives, a soybean innovation laboratory contact, and a researcher of the works of the Chief Historian of the United States during the occupation. this investigation is not an ARG, and in the real world, actual research takes time on a scale outside of the usual social media expectations. please respect that i cannot speed up the wheels of bureaucracy for you.

please just fucking respect me as a person, y'all, i promise that any of you reading this from recommended pages have absolutely no idea the level of shit that's been thrown my way over fucking soy sauce.

[biolumien]

heya!! Saw you had open requests. And I was wondering if you could do something with Hoshina with the trope of Opposites attract?

Like maybe reader could be shy and quiet type. Who is strangely not a fighter like he is. Reader could be a sweet civilian or something and it'd be nice to see how the rest of the characters react to their relationship. Though of course, feel free to change it as you wish. Whatever you write I'm sure it'll turn out amazing.

Feel free to ignore this if it isn't your fancy :DD

notes: ahh repeat it with me now the fic got away from me and took on a life of its own... i hope this is okay ;-;!!

cafe latte

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader no content warnings necessary. i think word count: 1752

the first time you were saved by soshiro hoshina was in front of the wreckage surrounding your cafe. 

the smell of blood was overwhelming as you stepped out warily, wincing as a drop of the kaiju carcass’s acidic blood dripped onto the pavement in front of you, carving out a hole in the concrete. 

“careful!” a voice called out from somewhere above you. “it’s still not safe for civilians.” 

you watch as the vice captain of the third division, soshiro hoshina, lands deftly on the ground, sheathing his twin katanas at his back. his closed, smiling eyes crack open just a tad, and he hums, his voice muffled by his respirator. 

your eyes go wide. 

the third division was legendary among the defense force, after all, and it was soshiro hoshina in the flesh in front of you! your body seemed to move of its own accord, and--

“um–can i,” you stammer out, pulling out your notepad for taking cafe orders. “can i get your autograph?”

“huh?” hoshina wipes a bit of blood from his suit. “i mean, sure, but wouldn’t you rather get an autograph from captain ashiro? i’m sure the resell value on that is far better.” even as he said this, though, he’d reached out to sign your notepad, scribbling a haphazard signature.

“i mean–everyone likes captain ashiro,” you say nervously as hoshina hands the notepad back to you. “but—you kept the kaiju from wrecking my—my shop.” you shift your eyes to the front of your cafe, and then back to hoshina, covered in blood and still wearing his respirator mask. “so i wanted your signature specifically.” 

“oh, i see,” hoshina says. he sounds teasing. “business will be slow for a bit, though, with the cleanup. are you going to be okay?” 

“oh? i—yes, i… it’ll be fine. the cleaners usually take… two weeks, i think. so… it might be a bit slower.” 

“hmm.” hoshina hums, removing his mask. you’d seen hoshina’s face on the news, largely in the background as mina ashiro spoke on eliminating the kaiju threat—so you’d known he was handsome, but something about seeing his face in person was different. he felt more—tangible. real. 

“i’ll have to stop by some time,” hoshina says with a smile. 

“i…” you lift up your notepad to hide your face. “i-i mean… sure. i… i don’t know why you would… but—”

“think of it like me paying you back for the slow business,” hoshina says. 

“okay,” you say, your voice hitching slightly. 

[…]

business was slow the next week, as you’d told hoshina. the kaiju carcass outside was pretty bad for business, really–something about the bad vibes, or something like that. so you go through the motions, cleaning up tables, ordering new coffee beans and stock for the next few weeks when business would pick up again. it was hard work, but it was made a little easier based on the fact that there was hardly anyone in the cafe right now. 

you look outside the window, resting your elbows on the counter, sighing. looks like it’d be another slow day after all. 

you raise your head as the cafe door jingles.

“welcome to the—it’s you,” you stammer out as hoshina walks through the door. off-duty he wears fairly loose clothes, a sharp contrast to how sharply dressed he looks during press conferences. he’s dressed in a loose black jacket with a tight turtleneck, and loose pants with a pair of reasonably-fashionable looking sneakers, with a black mask over his mouth. “you really didn’t have to—”

“not like i had much better to do,” hoshina says easily, waving a hand, pulling down his mask now that he was inside. “it’s not often i get time off. and i gave you my word, so i might as well make good on it.” he walks forward, examining the cafe menu. “what’s good here?” 

“umm—the… americano, is… okay,” you say. “i… think.” “you think?” hoshina blinks at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, teasingly. “does that mean you don’t know?”

“i–no, it’s–it’s good,” you say more assertively now. hoshina laughs, and your heart skips a strange beat. 

“hm… i’ll admit i don’t really drink that much coffee, so i’ll give you free reign to do whatever you think i’d like.” hoshina smiles. 

“i–that’s too much freedom,” you protest. “what if you hate it–” “i’m not gonna hate it,” hoshina says. “i came here out of my own free will after all! just go with the flow.”

so you end up making him a latte, doing a bit of latte art on the top using some cream. it’s a small fox with closed eyes and a sharp smile, and you slide it across the counter for his approval. he picks up the cup, spinning it gently–and you try not to look too hard at his hands. he hums.

“looks almost too cute to drink,” he says. “cheers, though.” he takes a long, slow sip, and you feel your heart pound in your throat as he lowers the cup. 

“is—”

“it’s good,” hoshina says with a smile. “i’ll have to keep coming back here. i can’t believe i’ve missed out on this place.” 

[…]

he just… keeps coming back during his off duty hours, dressed sharply and plainly each time. you make him new animals in his lattes—cats, dogs, bunnies, mostly cats and foxes. 

a few times you attempt a very crazy looking kaiju, but by the time you hand over the cup it’s deflated already, and you slide over the drink with shame on your face and he just laughs, and you try not to think about the fact that his fingers brushed against yours as he takes the cup each time. 

you learn a bit more about him each time, but it’s mostly surface level things. how his day’s going, what’s annoying him—mostly what’s annoying him, but said in a conversationally light way. 

but he asks a lot of questions about you. favorite color, animal, food—innocuous at first, down to grittier questions about good memories, lasting regrets and the like. 

you answer to the best of your ability, hesitantly and nervously each time. 

“not that i don’t… appreciate the conversation, but…” you say one day as you’re scrubbing down a particularly messy table, “why do you ask all these questions anyway? i-i doubt my answers are… anything interesting, so—”

hoshina takes a sip from his coffee. 

you made him a penguin today. 

“i’m just curious,” hoshina says, in a tone that almost sounds apologetic. “work habit. gotta know everything about everyone. your coworkers, the officers, kaiju…” 

he watches out the window for a moment, and you think about the large gap between the two of you—two completely separate worlds as he fights to defend the world from a threat so foreign and massive that it seemed utterly inconceivable—and here you were, wondering about how you might sell enough cafe lattes to make ends meet and pay rent. 

“but more than anything,” hoshina says after a long moment, and you nearly startle hearing his voice again, “i just want to get to know you because you’re interesting.”

and in his eyes is a weighted, assured sincerity that makes your heart flip nervously. 

[…]

the second time you were saved by soshiro hoshina, it was a smaller, less dramatic affair. 

you’re carrying out trays to some other customers while hoshina sits at one of the tables, his laptop open as he’s working on some paperwork. 

and then suddenly you trip on one of the floorboards, falling forward with a yelp, and you brace yourself for the utter worst—spilled glassware and maybe a really bad fall—but then you gasp out as hoshina pulls an arm around your waist, keeping you from completely planting on your face. 

he lets go soon after, his eyes scanning yours for a moment. you wonder why your side feels a little bit colder, why you wished for the pressure of his hand against your side to stay for a little longer. surely it was nothing. 

“careful now,” hoshina says, a teasing lilt to his voice, but then he seems a little more contemplative, slightly more concerned. “nothing spilled too bad, right?” 

“no,” you say, a little dazed as you check the trays to find that thankfully, everything seemed in place. “thank you, hoshina.”

“mhm,” hoshina says, his eyes flitting back to his work. a smirk crosses his lips for a moment as his eyes flit back up to meet yours. “can’t save you all the time, can i?”

you sputter for a moment, and he laughs, and it’s not long before you’re laughing too. 

[…]

there are people huddled outside the street as hoshina enters into the cafe today. he seems a little weary, running a hand through his hair. 

“you look out of it,” you comment. 

“i… the…” hoshina glances back at the people outside. your eyes widen when you notice the telltale ponytail of—

“is that mina ashiro?” you exclaim, slamming your hands against the counter. “seriously? out here?” 

hoshina looks wearier at the excitement in your voice. 

“sorry,” you say. “but why is she here?” 

“i…” hoshina looks up at the ceiling, exhaling for a second. “do you want to go out with me?” 

you think your heart stops beating. 

hoshina’s watching you, and his eyes flit to yours, before trying to look at anything else. 

“where—where did this come from?” you ask. you want to hide behind something. your ears feel hot, and he coughs. 

“it comes from… ah, i’m not good at metaphor,” hoshina says, spreading his hands. “it’s so much worse than being straightforward—so i’ll just put it plainly. i like you. i come to the cafe a lot because i like you. i want to go out with you. and some of my… coworkers,” 

hoshina turns to glare at some of the people outside, who seem to scatter at his stare. 

“…were interested in seeing the person that has captured my attention. so… i hope that’s clear.”

does he seem ever-so-slightly nervous?

your face feels hot.

“yes,” you say, reaching out to clasp his hand. “of course.”

hoshina exhales, loud.

“okay. good. not that i was nervous or anything, but i’ve got a reputation to uphold out there, with those clowns,” hoshina says, squeezing your hand back, cool as ever. you smile, leaning up to kiss hoshina quickly, and he laughs, brushing his nose against yours.

and out of the corner of your eye, you see mina ashiro taking a picture with her phone. 

[evasive-anon]

Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

[somejazzinthemorning]

playing cupid.

Carlos Sainz x Reader [Warnings: Mentions of sex and some curse words. There are some inaccuracies, such as in this short story, Carlos has an apartment in Milan] Word Count: 9.7K

You're in this situationship with Carlos Sainz—no fuss, no drama, just sex. But then your dads become friends, and Sainz Sr., with a soft spot for you, decides to introduce you to his son, whom you've been... acquainted with for a while. To make things more interesting, he's on a mission to play Cupid, all while Carlos enjoys the thrill of keeping your little secret, playing along with his dad.

this was a request! always feel free to request and if i have some free time, I'll try to write something 🫶🏼

“Apparently, our dads met”, you say, rolling off Carlos's lap, still flushed and your breath ragged. The soft bed cushions your fall as you curl up beneath the deep blue blanket that usually adorns the foot of Carlos's bed, but this time is just part of the mess.

Carlos studies you with a faint frown, tousled hair spilling over his forehead. He looks incredibly handsome, basking in the afterglow of your encounter. If it weren’t for the late hour and your impending early morning, you would consider straddling him again. However, it’s nearly 2 a.m. and you need to be at the atelier by 9, so you just wish to sleep.

“Really?” There’s an undertone you don’t quite understand.

“What?”

"You just killed the mood.” He lays back on the bed and turns to face you. His hands seek out your shoulder, and his nimble fingers begin tracing delicate patterns on your skin, a clear indication that he’s not ready to let the night end just yet. “Mentioning my dad right after I cum inside you? Not exactly what I expect.”

“I just remembered it, and now I know you’ll get your hands off of me and let me sleep.”

“Oh, that’s not what I was expecting, as well.”

You pout, mocking him. “Poor you,” he rolls his eyes and falls dramatically against his pillow. “I’m just expecting a good night of sleep because some of us have work to do during the week and not just on weekends.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know that sometimes you work during the week.”

Carlos opens his mouth to retort, but he doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence. In an instant, he sits up, looming over you, and seizes both your wrists, pinning them against the headboard. With his other hand, he's ready to tug the blanket over your form.

"Don't you dare tickle me, Carlos Sainz. Or I swear to God—"

"What are you going to do?" Carlos interrupts, his mischievous grin returning. As you lock eyes with him, you realize there's very little you can do, and oddly enough, you're entirely fine with that. Except,

"Spit in your face."

His playful smirk remains as he leans in closer, his voice a sultry whisper. "Spit in my face, huh?” he taunts, his fingers inching closer to your sides. “Think I’m going to risk it.”

"Sainz,” you squirm under his touch, desperately trying to maintain your composure. But he’s already grinning, and his fingers are approaching your sides. “I'm warning you..."

And suddenly, it's too late. He pounces, his fingers dancing across your sides, and you burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter, some of them louder than you expected them to be. Carlos knows all your ticklish spots, and he exploits them shamelessly. It’s been what…? Four months since you first slept together. By now he knows your body better than any guy ever did. And honestly, you’re not sure what to feel about that.

"Carlos, stop!" you manage to gasp between laughter, trying to wriggle free from his grip. It's a futile effort as he continues his relentless assault, determined to elicit every giggle and squeal he can from you.

Finally, he relents, his laughter joining yours as he releases your wrists. You pant for breath, your cheeks flushed from both the laughter and the earlier efforts. You take the opportunity to jump out of bed. “You’re the worst. I gotta pee.”

You disappear into the bathroom, to pee, clean yourself and try to comb your hair, and by the time you go back to the bedroom, you’re expecting him to be asleep. But you find him awake. His eyes shine brighter when you go through the door, and he watches you with a tender smile as you enter the bed and curl against him, fitting perfectly into his embrace.

The warmth of his body against you is comforting.

"I think I'll let you sleep now," he voices low in your ear, as he pulls over the comforter and covers you both.

"You better.”

Carlos's chest rises and falls rhythmically beneath your cheek as you nestle closer. You can hear the faint hum of his heartbeat, and it lulls you into a peaceful state. He smells like Bleu de Chanel and the lingering traces of your passion. With every breath, you inhale the essence of the man who has woven himself into the fabric of your life, in more ways than one.

Just as you're about to close your eyes and drift off to sleep, it hits you like lightning—the visit your mom mentioned, the whole reason you brought up his dad’s name.

You nudge Carlos gently, rousing him from his half-asleep state. "Just remembered something."

Carlos doesn’t even open his eyes. "Hmm?”

“My dad invited yours over,” you were not sure if you should be excited or nervous. Not for the visit itself, but for Carlos’ reaction to the idea of you meeting his dad.

After all, you had just been sleeping together, barely leaving your apartments, except for that one time he took you out to dinner, and that was probably because it was your birthday and perhaps Carlos would feel bad about just booty-calling you and ignoring the whole birthday thing.

“Well, that’s a nice way to introduce you to him.”

“What?”

Carlos just pressed you closer to him, like you weren’t practically glued together already. "It's okay, cariño. They’ll love you. Now sleep."

It all started at Milan Fashion Week when Carlos was representing Ferrari at an event. You were there, lurking in the shadows, taking in the magic of the fashion show. Your mentor had gotten you there, a favour you'll always be grateful for. There's a lot you can't remember about the event, about the whole night to be fair, but you remember the man awkwardly sitting in the front row. Fashion is not his thing, you thought. You kind of knew that. You kind of knew him.

He drives for Ferrari, he's handsome, he has a thick Spanish accent and hair I would pay to touch.

And that was more than enough to make you introduce yourself at the end of the show. From there, making out in a club took a little more than two hours. To his bed, just a little bit more than that.

You continued to see each other, booty-calling each other when you were feeling horny, bored, or just lonely. Your situationship was a good deal for both parties. No strings attached, which you enjoyed because you had little time and no patience to make any kind of effort to actually maintain a relationship. And Carlos, well... he was also busy as hell, so... all good. So you never went on dates, never needed to put on expectable amounts of makeup for over-the-top dresses. Except for your birthday, when he decided to take you out, and you had to make the effort. But that was your birthday.

Other than that, you would only leave your apartments to go get food at a 24-hour store or McDonald's. You remember that one time you wanted gelato and Carlos took you to his favourite place in Milan, but... other than that, it was just sex. Okay, just sex and marathons of Game of Thrones and House of The Dragon (that led to more sex) and some cooking too. You once taught him how to make your nana's lasagna and how a true Italian bruschetta is done. And a few days later, he cooked you his mom's carbonara—not a real carbonara, not at all. And, let’s be fair, he often brought you pizza from your favourite place in Milano and expensive bottles of wine.

But… “That’s a nice way to introduce you to him”?

You were not expecting that at all.

The idea lingered in your mind all night, and you woke up thinking about it too. You left his apartment while Carlos was still in the shower, just shouting goodbyes while you gathered your stuff and ran to the atelier. He would be out of town for a couple of weeks, away at some races, and you would have time to figure out how your parents met and when said visit was going to happen. All good.

Turns out you didn't have as much time as you thought.

That afternoon, your mom calls you, excitedly recounting their amazing trip to Canada and how much fun your dad had at the race. So, that was where they met. She also shares her plans about taking your brothers to Monza in a couple of months. You nod absentmindedly, your attention more focused on the magazine in front of you than on her words. It's often like this.

Your dad travels for work and actually works. He's a sports manager, deeply passionate about football and motorsports, especially Formula 1. Lately, he's been leaning more towards the latter, especially since he's contemplating retirement. On the other hand, your mom, an ex-model who married a well-off man, has chosen to focus on being a wife and a mother, a role she fulfils with dedication. So, when they’re back home, dad has work to do, contacts to keep and your mom has… well, more than enough time to tell you everything.

"And your dad and Sainz met at the golf course, you know?" your mom continues, her voice full of admiration. "A charming young man. He was golfing with his dad too. Your father had to tell them you refused to join him on the greens."

"In that, he's absolutely right."

"So, they kept talking. They even played together, I think. And he mentioned we were going to the race, and Sainz suggested he could call, and he'd arrange a garage tour. We met him at the paddock, but we ended up not getting the tour because there were already enough guests in there, but… Isn't he just amazing? And so incredibly handsome, piccina. So handsome."

You cringe inwardly at your mom's thirst for Carlos, unable to shake the image of her ogling your... friend. But you hum in response, unable to voice your discomfort because the next moment, she's raving about a dress she bought for you and the amazing designer she met in New York just before returning to Milan, and that topic steals all attention.

But just before she’s about to hang out, you remember why she called you in the first place.

“Mom, about the visit you mentioned? The dinner?” you interject and she chuckles; you can almost envision her rubbing her temples.

"Oh, silly me. I actually called you to discuss that," she sighs. "He's coming to visit us this weekend! You have to come home and meet him; he's really looking forward to getting to know you."

"Doesn't he race this weekend?"

"The young—Since when do you care about F1?"

"I don't. I just—” You quickly think of something, but you’re not quite sure if you want to tell your mother that you’ve been fucking Sainz. The younger one. Of course. “I saw something on Twitter."

"Oh, I see. Well,” she clicks her tongue. “It's his dad who's coming. Weren’t you listening? And his mom. We invited them both. Your dad wants to take him to the club and network a bit and you know… I’m always down for making friends and Reyes seems like a lovely woman. She wasn’t there, but I’ve heard about her around. Even her name is super elegant. Isn’t it?” Once again, you hum, frowning, thinking about the movie where you just found yourself in. “So, please, come home.”

“Noted. So, this weekend?”

“Yes. Do you need Dad to pick you up tomorrow after work?”

You move in your seat. “I’m just so busy with work right now, mom. The new collection and—” She cleans her throat and you just nod to the empty room. “Okay. Yes, please, tell Dad to pick me up.”

Of course, the second you hang up you text Carlos. He’s probably busy, it’s Thursday so he’s doing interviews or something, and, as you expected, he doesn’t reply to your text right away. Despite everything, he doesn’t take too long.

Not surprisingly, he’s very nonchalant about it all.

hot wheels guy: just tell them we know each other, no big deal hot wheels guy: and we’ll tell them more when i’m back

But, yeah… You can’t help but frown looking at the phone. He’s golfed with your dad, met your mom, met again with your dad and he’s not even feeling weird about it all?

you: hm? no? hot wheels guy: why not? you: you went golfing with my dad!!! hot wheels guy: and? hot wheels guy: how would i guess he was your dad? you: how many Y/LN do you think there are in milan? you: he told you he’s from milan!! there are not a lot of us in here hot wheels guy: do you have any idea of how many people i meet every weekend? you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: stop being a brat you: 🙄 hot wheels guy: i don’t see a problem in golfing with your dad hot wheels guy: is that supposed to be weird? you: YES !!!! hot wheels guy: stop being dramatic hot wheels guy: if they say anything, tell them you know me hot wheels guy: if they don’t, don’t you: they will hot wheels guy: so you know what to do

Friday’s dinner went exceptionally well, with conversations flowing effortlessly between food and wine, despite the inevitable sports-centric discussions that seemed to dominate the evening. Your brothers were beyond ecstatic to have Carlos Sr. as a guest in their home. They'd had their fair share of famous athletes sitting at the family table, but never had they been as excited as they were when Carlos Sr. entered the house. As a result, you found yourself somewhat on the sidelines, listening more than speaking throughout the meal.

And you were grateful for that.

The same didn’t happen on Saturday. Your dad took the morning to showcase some of your work and discuss your future prospects in the fashion industry with both Carlos and Reyes. In what you think was a gesture of gratefulness, Reyes displayed a lot of interest in your little atelier, located by the pool, in what used to be a shed for the gardener. So, you spent the morning around there, talking with them about fashion and business, and then joined them for lunch in one of your dad’s favourite restaurants.

Let's be fair, you have an extraordinary way with words and a charm that makes your mother proud. It was easy for you. By the time dinner came, you were already adored by the Sainzes. Without making an effort, you found yourself talking about art and travel, and letting Sainz Sr. explain to you the magic and the challenges of Dakar.

However, it isn’t until the next morning that you find yourself alone with him.

You both sat down for breakfast on the patio, and he’s now engrossed in reading the newspaper, while you’re drinking your cappuccino and doing your best to ignore the fact that the man sitting in front of you is, in essence, your… fuckbuddy’s dad.

There’s the usual “good morning” and the “hope you got some rest”, to which the guest always has some lovely comment to say about the bed, or the room, or the house in general. It’s an amazing guest house, you have to admit. And Sainz is no expectation. You exchange a couple of pleasantries and he’s back at reading the news, so you let your guard down.

Then, unexpectedly, Carlos Sr. turns his attention from the newspaper and directs it squarely at you. Grey eyebrows lifting at the same pace his eyes fill with a weird glint.

“I would love to introduce you to my son,” he says, and a faint frown tugs at your lips as words form in your throat, only to wither away unspoken. "I'm not implying anything," he says with a hint of amusement in his voice, "just that I believe the two of you would get along well."

You respond hesitantly, "Oh, I know him."

"I know you know him," he laughs, and you realise that something might have gotten lost in translation because when he talks again he says, "But what I mean is that you should meet. I'll make sure to introduce you two next time we're all in town."

And well, you feel too embarrassed to correct him, so you just smile and mumble an “I can’t wait. Excuse me”, before getting up from the table and sprinting up to your room.

you: great news. your dad wants to introduce us you: what do i do?

He takes a couple of hours to text back.

hot wheels guy: why didn’t you tell him you know me already? you: i tried to!

The next time you’re all in town happens one week and a half from there, when Carlos is finally back in Italy after a few races and a couple of days in Madrid. And, because the universe is a pain in the ass, you’re swarmed with work to the point you’ve been falling asleep right after dinner, even before the time Carlos usually rings you up.

It’s a terrible schedule.

You’ve been waking up at 5 am to be by the seamstress at 7, to have some work ready to show at 9 am, between your mentor’s arrival at the atelier and the time he leaves for some meeting or brunch with models somewhere in Milan. Somehow, during that interval, he has time to break your work to pieces, destroying it (and destroying you in the process) with criticism. Critique leaves you on the verge of tears, and by the end of the day, you’re a mess—stressed, irritable and utterly exhausted. Not to mention the ever-present sexual frustration, with vivid dreams of a certain Spaniard leaving you hot and bothered in your sleep.

The perfect recipe for a restless night.

Apparently, Carlos got to Milan on Wednesday, because that night you woke up at midnight on your couch, a half-empty glass of wine by your side, your unfinished sketches scattered before you and three missed calls from Carlos, accompanied by a series of texts. Thursday, the same happened. The texts were nothing too dramatic, just variations of “u up?”, “cmon its 10 pm”, and “you can’t be asleep”.

On both days, in your half-sleep haze, you manage to reply as you shuffle your way to your bedroom something similar to “sory, talktomorrw”.

And then Friday arrives, and your calendar pings with the reminder that in one hour your dad will be picking you up for dinner. You’re sitting on your vanity and already dreading the day your dad decided to go to Montreal.

You’re not feeling it.

Firstly, you have to slather on a ton of make-up just to feel decent. Your dark circles are as pronounced as ever, you’re skin is pale and your acne is acting up, probably all due to the lack of sun, sleep, rest of any food that isn’t reheated pizza or store-bought noodles.

So, yes, the prospect of dinner and being introduced as Carlos’ whatever doesn’t exactly lift your spirits.

The anticipation gawns at you as you finish getting ready. You can’t shake the feeling of unease, a nagging doubt that you’re about to step into a situation that might be more than you signed up for. Carlos’ dad seems nice enough, and his mom absolutely adores you, but this is different, especially because his dad is expecting to introduce you and well… you’re way past that.

As you stare at your reflection, you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this isn't just about you. Your brothers are looking forward to meeting Carlos, and your dad seems genuinely excited about his friendship with his dad. So, you summon a smile, albeit a forced one, and decide to make the most of this evening, even if you're not entirely sure what to expect.

Yeah. Scratch that. The dinner is about you.

As you approach the restaurant, a different sense of anticipation washes over you. It feels like a scene from a movie where you're about to meet an arranged husband. The Sainz family stands by the door, engaged in lively conversation. Reyes waves at you when she sees you making your way to them.

Your eyes naturally gravitate toward Carlos. Firstly, because you kind of miss him. It’s been a while since you last saw him and there’s no point in looking for comfort somewhere else, so you are, let's say… slightly needy. And secondly, because he’s clad in a baby blue button-up and pristine white pants. A vision. You're only human, after all, with eyes and perhaps a few too many hormones.

In summary: You’re fucked. Dinner will be fun.

From your back and close to your ear, a whisper arises. “Be nice,” your mom says. As you turn to her, her lips are curling into a wide smile. “Carlos! Reyes! Such a delight to see you both again. And, Carlos,” she turns to the younger one, “it’s an absolute pleasure to finally see you in a more personal environment.”

You take a deep breath.

Your brothers, bursting with energy, practically race each other to get to Carlos, almost taking you down in the process. He skillfully engages them in conversation, a grin playing on his lips, until your mom intervenes.

"Now, now, boys. You'll have plenty of time to chat," she chuckles. Your mom swiftly moves your overeager brothers and offers an apologetic smile to Carlos. "Apologies, they're just excited.”

“No problem,” he says, in Italian, something he doesn’t do often when he’s alone with you. He claims he still needs to learn dirty talk in Italian. You love to teach him by whispering it into his ear. More than that, you love watching his face as he slowly grasps their meaning.

Your dad, then, approaches him for a way-too-manly handshake, but a warm smile reigns on his lips. “Carlos, great to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir. Likewise.”

In the meantime, you went to Reyes. She graced you with a compliment, a kiss on the cheek and the promise to visit your atelier in the near future. Then, it’s time for her husband, and you’re already wearing your best smile because that man is beaming as he’s watching you.

“My dear,” after two kisses on the cheeks, he slightly turns to Carlos. “So nice to see you again. Son,” he calls, and Carlos turns to you, his smile radiant, his eyes sparkling under the warm, ambient lights of the restaurant. “Let me introduce you to Y/N.”

"You're even more beautiful than my mom described," he remarks, his words catching you off guard. You manage to suppress the urge to roll your eyes, opting instead for a faint smile. “My dad has shared so much about you. Couldn’t wait to meet you.”

A surge of mixed emotions washes over you. On one hand, there's a twinge of frustration that he didn't tell his family about your connection, correcting your mistake and saving you from embarrassment. Yet, as his adoring gaze meets yours, it's hard not to be swept away by his warm compliments.

“Oh,” you murmur, feeling something shift inside you. Your own words surprise you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. "Thank you. Likewise."

Unknown to you, you echo almost exactly what Carlos had just said to your dad. The similarity draws a chuckle from Senior, who seems to find the exchange quite entertaining. Carlos chuckles as well and motions to the restaurant with his head.

“Should we?”

As the evening progresses, you can't help but steal glances at Carlos when you think no one is looking. You catch his eye occasionally, and he responds with subtle winks and sly smirks that send shivers down your spine. It's almost like a secret language only the two of you understand. He’s sitting in front of you, of course.

“Piccina,” your mom calls. “Why don’t you tell Carlos about your job?”

With a smile, you turned to face Carlos. He raises his eyebrows in curiosity, and you have to take a second before answering. He’s no stranger to your job. Not at all. Sometimes he even lands a helping hand, providing some foot massages while you’re working through tight deadlines and he doesn’t take “no” for an answer when he asks if he can come over.

So you simply say, “I’m a fashion designer.”

“Oh,” it’s the polite oh, not the filled-with-curiosity one. You know he’s about to say something stupid when his tongue peeks through his lips and the corner of his lips starts raising, moulding his mouth in a smirk. “So you just play dress-up for a living?”

Laughter bubbled up from one of your brothers, earning him a scolding look from your mom. They’re just nine, which makes them fifteen years younger than you. Fondly referred to as "an accident" by your parents, they were the light of your life, even if they were quite the whirlwind.

“And you, Carlos, you just play with cars on the weekends?” Carlos's eyes gleamed with mischief as he looked down, a chuckle escaping him. Sr. Carlos wore a pleased smile, and a delightful warmth settled in your belly.

"Some might find it hard to believe, but we do manage to squeeze in some actual work during the week," Carlos chimed in, earning a laugh from you. "Have you ever been to a race?”

“No, and I don’t intend to.”

"The boys are the true racing enthusiasts,” your dad chimes in. “The girls prefer to stay at home, or walk around when we travel for a Grand Prix.”

Turning to you, Carlos's eyes danced with mischief. You remembered a previous conversation where he'd tried to persuade you to attend the Italian Grand Prix, just a few weeks away. Wanting to stop him, because he’s so predictable that you just know what he’s about to say, you try to change the subject.

“Talking about races, are you playing on doing Dakar again next year, Signore?”

Carlos dismisses your question right away. "I think your perspective might change once you experience a Grand Prix firsthand.”

And this time, Carlos Sr. joins him. "Why not extend an invitation for them to visit the garage? I'm sure the kids will love the opportunity. And, Y/N, I’m sure you’ll find it all exciting. You seem like a curious girl.”

Carlos beamed. "Consider this an invitation. I can't wait to have you all there.”

Your brothers practically have a collective stroke, their young minds struggling to process the idea of visiting Carlos in the garage. As for your dad, despite his time in the paddock, had never had the chance to visit the Ferrari garage, so, despite keeping his composure, you know how much it means to him—he’s undeniably the most fervent tifoso you'd ever known.

With a grateful smile, you spoke up. "That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

Carlos leans comfortably against his Alfa Romeo parked in easy reach of your dad’s Audi. Your brothers are sleeping in the back seat, while your parents conclude their chat. They’re getting along well, which is weird but comforting to some degree.

You shoot Carlos a serious glance. “How much longer are you going to keep up with this little thing you started?”

“Me? May I remind you that you were the one who didn’t tell him we met?” You roll your eyes at his words and grab the door knob. “Wait. Don’t you see he’s trying to set us up?”

“And?”

“Play along. Let him have it.”

There's a moment of silent understanding, the shared secret between you adding an extra layer of intimacy. Despite it all, you crack a smile.

“You’re so childish.” You say. “You’ll be the one who’s gonna tell him.”

“I’ll tackle that when we get there,” Carlos assures. And slowly, a playful glint shines in his eyes. “Should I swing by your place on my way home?”

“No way. I have work tomorrow, a lot of work to do and I can’t afford to be tired to do it.”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You can stay at mine, then. And I could drive you to work. It’ll give you an extra thirty minutes of sleep.”

You chuckle, impressed by his attention to detail. “You don’t even know where I work.”

“Of course, I do,” he assures.

That’s new. “Well,” you take a deep breath and discreetly hand him over your apartment keys. “I won’t ring the bell because the old lady on my floor will listen and I think she’s spying on me. I’ll call when I’m there.”

As you're about to bid him goodnight, your dad's voice calls out from a distance, catching Carlos's attention. He waves warmly and flashes a friendly smile, which Carlos mimics.

“Golf on Sunday?” your dad asks.

Carlos's eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Absolutely! Can't wait!”

You can't help but interject, “Golfing with my dad, again? What the heck are you doing?”

Carlos grins. “Finding a golfing partner, since someone here,” he gestures playfully at you, “refuses to join me. And unfortunately, my dad isn't always around in Italy to tag along.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Alright, Sainz. Nice to meet you. See you soon.”

He drives you to work and to your surprise, he actually knows where that is. How? You can’t tell. Apparently, he also remembers that you bring breakfast for your mentor on Saturdays because just before he drops you off, he offers to join you for a few minutes, just to pick up breakfast with you.

“Since you’ve got no time to eat with me, I’ll just tag along and annoy you for ten minutes more.”

You let him enter the coffee shop with you and he hovers on your back while you order two moccas and two brownies to go with it. Your mentor is not picky, and this Saturday breakfast tradition only started because you wanted to thank him for granting you a few hours from his weekend to help you with your designs. Technically, it’s not work, but it’s just as demanding.

You can feel Carlos’ breath against your hair, and the faint smell of his cologne, still hanging in his shirt from the previous night. This morning, the buttons are undone, and the sleeves are folded up. His hair is tousled and his beard is imperfect. Yet he’s the most handsome man around.

“First time picking up breakfast together,” he says as you’re walking towards the door. “Is this the equivalent to marriage in your dictionary?”

“Don’t make me regret all the past decisions I’ve made.”

“Hm,” he hums, tilting his head. “What could I possibly make you regret?”

“Simply the fact of accepting to be introduced to you,” You let an exaggerated sigh leave your lips. “I’m living the nightmare all over again.”

Just before leaving a kiss on your cheek, he whispers. “Didn’t sound like a nightmare when I made you come thrice last night, baby. But go off.” He then kisses you on the cheek. “Have a good day.”

Carlos is too busy that night, and your Sunday is reserved for a family gathering. By Monday, you're back to your routine of nodding off right after dinner, so by the time Tuesday arrives, you’re already missing him. Not him—just his body in your bed, the sensation of his thick lips sliding down your navel and the sound of your name rolling off his tongue, wrapped up in that beautiful deep Spanish accent of his. You know he’s driving next weekend, so you spend all Wednesday staring at your phone, trying to summon a text from him.

When it finally pings, around 5 pm, it’s from your dad.

papà: heading to squash in an hour. up for a game? papà: no use in saying no papà: you already missed two weeks you: 🙄🙄🙄 you: i’ll meet you there!

You were the one who introduced your dad to squash, and gradually, it evolved into a bonding activity for both of you. Words don't flow easily with him, and you’re not great at demonstrating feelings so it’s difficult to connect with your dad. On top of that, you moved out really early. Slowly squash became a great way to connect and have quality time with him, release some steam, and stay in shape.

“I’m surprised. You never mentioned that you play squash,” a voice chimes in from behind, and you can't help but let out a sigh when you turn around.

It's Carlos, donned in a stupidly tight turquoise shirt that perfectly hugs and draws the contour of his chest, and sporting the briefest shorts you've ever seen him wear. He smiles. He knows he looks hot.

“How could I?” You reply, trying to not showcase how weak your knees just turned. “We only met like… five days ago.”

Carlos chuckles. “You’re funny. Did I tell you that yet?”

“Hmmm. You haven’t had the chance, yet.”

Sainz Sr. approaches you both, moving at a leisurely pace, absorbed in his phone. When he looks up, his frown disappears and an adoring smile takes his lips. His hand rests on his son’s shoulder as he remarks, “Didn’t I tell you today would be a perfect day for a match?”

Carlos turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "You did. What a coincidence.”

"Indeed," you chime in. "May I challenge you, sir? My dad’s still on a call and I have no partner."

“Oh, Carlos can join you,” he suggests with a nod in Carlos’ direction. “I’ll wait for your dad. We have some matters to discuss. Carry on, you two.”

Of. Course.

As the two of you step onto the squash court, the competitive glint in Carlos' eyes is hard to miss. And the tension in the air is palpable, you feel it in your bones. But you take a deep breath and push it aside, focusing on the game ahead.

"Why the sudden cold shoulder?" Carlos inquires as you prepare to start.

You glance at him, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm getting radio silence from you—no calls, no texts. You're not picking up my calls, either. What’s going on?"

You roll your neck, trying to ease the tension. Yesterday you just collapsed onto your couch, once again. You were living in survival mode. And wouldn’t be there playing if it wasn't a long-standing tradition with your dad.

"Work's been keeping me busy," you shrug.

It's not entirely a lie. But it’s not totally true either.

Let’s see—you've been involved in this situationship for almost five months now, seeing each other sporadically, sometimes even daily, if Carlos is in Milan. Yet, it's all so casual. You can recall the day he mentioned introducing you to his parents, of course. As a matter of fact, that talk has been looping in your mind for the last few days, but… it was a joke. Right? Sure it was. Why would he want his parents to meet his... whatever?

You could have texted him earlier. You would have texted him a few weeks ago, before all this. You can’t quite figure out why you’re panicking and why you’re behaving like a rom-com character, but you are.

"Come on, that excuse won't stick with me."

“Too bad. Can we play?" You grip the racket, twirling it in your hands. You look back, at his dad sitting on the benches, watching you from afar. “Please?”

He lets out a sigh and nods. Finally, you think.

"Is this a date?" he asks, grabbing a ball from his shorts and meeting your gaze.

"No." You're firm, and once again, he frowns. "It's not. For one, you didn't invite me. We just happened to both be here. It's coincidental.” He laughs here, slightly tilting his head back. You both know it is not coincidental. “And two, that's not what we're doing."

He cracks a smile, almost teasing. "So, what are we not doing?"

"The dating thing. We're not dating."

"Aren't we?" He smirks, his tongue peeking out, licking his lips.

You shake your head. "Nope."

"Alright, cool. Just wanted to be clear on that," Carlos replies with a nonchalant shrug, though you detect a glimmer of amusement in his voice. He’s as annoying as he’s pretty.

The first serve is swift and precise. The sound of the ball hitting the wall reverberates through the court. You dive into the game, putting your all into each movement. It's a dance of strategy and agility. You’re exhausted, but you put on a fight, using banter as your weapon. On the outside, your parents are watching, and you can’t help but notice Sainz Sr. is thoroughly enjoying this.

Sweat starts to bead on your foreheads, but neither of you shows any sign of slowing down. He wants to win and well… you want to make him lose. As you play, you steal glances at Carlos, his concentration evident in the set of his jaw and the fire in his eyes, in the curse words he whispers under his breath, ones that frustration draws from him. You’ve heard them before. Oh, God, you’ve heard so much worse. But it all combined? This is a side of him you haven't seen before, and it's exhilarating.

After a particularly intense rally, Carlos manages to secure a point with a deftly placed shot. He smirks, clearly pleased with himself. "You're not making this easy," he remarks.

You grin, determined. "Wouldn't want to go easy on you, now, would I?"

The court echoes with the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the thud of the ball hitting the walls. Time seems to blur as you lose yourself in the rhythm of the game. He makes you laugh and shout insults in his direction, to which he laughs.

Finally, after a hard-fought match, Carlos clinches the victory. It's a close call, and you’re about to pass out. It’s a shitty mixture of disappointment and pride. Leaning against the wall of the court, you try toth catch your breath.

"You're pretty good at this," Carlos admits, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel.

"Yeah, well, I have to stay in shape to keep up with you," you quip.

He chuckles, "Am I that demanding?"

"Am I that demanding?" You repeat, forcing a Spanish accent and a deep voice. He chuckles and stands up straight. "Did your dad tell you to come here today?"

"Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. Like I told you he would."

You can't help but chuckle at Carlos's words. "Well, he’s certainly enjoying playing cupid. But hey, fun game.”

Carlos nods a genuine smile on his face. "Yeah, it was. Finally got to see you outside the flat. It's quite weird to see you with clothes at this point."

"Oh, God, you're such a prick."

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Can I drop by later today?"

You glance toward your parents, who are engaged in a lively conversation, and then back at Carlos.

"No. Early morning tomorrow. And I still have work to finish today.” You’re not lying to him, you’re lying to yourself. Even when he’s looking at you with puppy eyes, you don’t go back with your words. Instead, you stand up straight and fix your hair. “Should I expect to coincidently meet you somewhere else in the next few days?"

You know the answer to that question. You know he’s going to be away for two weekends. And you kinda know he knows you know, because when he answers, there’s the faintest smile on his lips.

"I'll be off for two weeks. Hungary and Belgium.”

"Good luck at those, then.”

“Really appreciate it.”

Yeah, so…. That night, Carlos texted you. Not a casual “u up?”, but a “it was so fucking unfair to see you in that skirt and not being able to fuck you in it” and naturally you couldn’t help but to let out an exasperated groan and promptly respond with a “come over.” So, twenty minutes later you were being screwed against your kitchen counter.

And now you’re on the couch, his head buried between your legs, eating you up like a starved man. Yes. You need to be fit to keep up with this man’s stamina. He’s that demanding. But you can’t complain.

It’s been like this. A lot of pleasure. And then a lot of peace of mind.

Afterwards, he reclines on the chaise lounge, scrolling through TV channels, looking for something remotely bearable. You go get your sketch notebook and use his torso as a pillow. He watches tv and you work, until sleep creeps over you and you fall asleep in his arms.

Five months of this. You can’t put a label on it, but you can’t imagine living without it.

Carlos only wakes you up to take you to bed, and that night he sleeps over, sprawled across your bed like a starfish, leaving you clinging to him to not fall over. In the morning, you make out in bed, lazy and sleepy. He fucks you in the shower, and then he’s off again. He texts you when he's at the airport, and once more when he lands in whichever country he's racing in. Meanwhile, you carry on with your everyday life—a bit more mundane than being fuckbuddies with a Scuderia Ferrari driver but just as busy.

As it became regular, you exchange a few texts while he's away. It's become a ritual—complimenting him on how handsome he looks after his sessions, and him requesting a selfie so he can return the favour. He sends you snapshots of random things that made him think of you, and if truth be told, you do the same. You share selfies as you stroll by the Ferrari store in Milan and send him memes (which sometimes require a brief explanation). Without fail, he sends you a good morning and a good night, and whenever you're awake, you make sure to reply.

And life happens for those two weeks.

It’s boring. It’s dull. It’s ordinary.

And then on a Monday evening your bell rings and you can’t help but leave your apartment and wait for him on the landing, right in front of the elevator, not caring if your neighbour is watching through the peephole.

“Missed me?” he quips, already unburdening himself of his backpack as he steps out of the elevator. Sunglasses perched atop his head, skin kissed by the sun, eyes wide like the moon. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen.

“Never,” you jest, but it's a flimsy façade, quickly shattered as you pull him close, urgency coursing through you.

Damn, you've missed him. You crave him.

And he craves you too. He's straightforward in showing it.

After you both shower, you settle on the couch. You ask him about why he had two races that weekend and he teases you because you finally demonstrate an interest in F1, and only then, after you’re insulting him and threatening to not go to Monza, he actually explains to you how a sprint weekend works, but he’s being so nerdy and so adorable and his eyes are sparkling so much that you just get back in his lap and ride him again, but this time slower, and more passionate, like you’re feeling something materialise inside you. And you come on his lap, and he kisses you slowly, and you tell him you actually missed him.

For dinner, you agree on sushi and night falls while you’re watching The Office for the only-God knows-how-many time, curled up in each other and drinking wine.

Apparently, there’s a mandatory period of vacations in F1 and unfortunately, it doesn’t match your own. So, Carlos is away with friends and family, in boats and islands in the Mediterranean, and you’re torn between Roma, Venice and Milan, assisting in campaign photoshoots.

Your days are long, exhausting and you’re tired and wishing you could be suntanning somewhere in Greece, but you’re sitting on a train, pushing small talk with your colleagues so you won’t fall asleep and drool over yourself.

Until a notification pops up on your phone, and you drop everything you’re saying because there’s a small chance that is a photo from Carlos, or some text, or just a reminder of his existence. You mentally slap yourself. When did you get that dependent?

But it’s just an email. And it’s from your mom.

You frown.

She doesn’t usually use email. Nor is interested in art galleries in Madrid.

You read through the details and you notice something interesting. The invitation has been forwarded from none other than Carlos Sainz Sr. And it makes you laugh. You take a screenshot that you send to Carlos.

you: so, your dad's moonlighting as an art promoter now? did you fire him? hot wheels guy: seems like it. he said he was going to invite you hot wheels guy: and no, i didn’t fire him primarily because he doesn’t work for me you: well it actually does sound interesting hot wheels guy: so you’re coming? you: perhaps hot wheels guy: it’s a good chance for you to meet my sisters you: don’t you have like a dog for me to meet, too? hot wheels guy: two, piñon and oil hot wheels guy: oli is a really jealous girl. i doubt she will like you you: looking forward to meet them. and your sisters too, of course hot wheels guy: and about me? you: i already met you twice. don’t need another introdution

One week later, you’re in Madrid. Sainz Sr. arrives home while you’re talking with Reyes in the kitchen, while she cooks gazpacho for lunch. Oli is in your lap, licking your cheek as your fingers get lost in the small white waves of her fur.

“Hope you get here easily. Did you take an Uber?” Sainz says right after gracing you with a small hug and two polite kisses on the cheeks. Before paying, he also leaves a pat on Oli’s head.

“Carlos picked me up at the airport, actually.”

A pleased smile creeps across Sainz Sr.'s face, like a child in a candy shop. He glances over at Carlos, who's lounging on the couch, a few meters from you.

“She’s a guest.” He points out. You didn’t even realise he was listening to your conversation. You wonder if he was listening to what you and Reyes were saying before. “I wouldn’t have let her take an Uber.”

“You’re getting along well,” the dad points out. “Doesn’t surprise me.”

Between the art and the hushed corridors of the gallery, you often find yourselves alone. A stolen kiss in the quiet garden, where the fragrance of blooming flowers mingles with the electric charge between you. And then another, amidst the art, when the room empties and you’re left in the silence of creativity, where the only beauty that matters is reflected in the depths of his eyes.

He holds your hand and listens to your explanations about art and strokes and colour theory. And he calls you a nerd. Of course, he does. And you laugh and look at each other, and kiss again, not caring if there’s someone around.

When you come back home, his sisters and parents are still in the living room, so you sit with them, still wearing your cocktail dress and Carlos still looking gorgeous in his tuxedo. You picked up churros on your way home, so you’re just basking in the serenity and the domesticity of it all. Conversations flow effortlessly, laughter weaving through the air. You share stories, revealing snippets of your lives to his family, like they’re slowly becoming yours.

Ana. Blanca. Oli. Reyes. Carlos. And your Carlos, who looks at you with a warmth in his eyes that is capable of melting every cell of your body.

You can get used to this.

You only spend one night in Madrid. You sleep over at the Sainz’s—Reyes didn’t let you consider a hotel, so she prepared one of the guest rooms in advance. Surprisingly, it’s not the first time you and Carlos sleep under the same roof without having sex, but it’s the first time you do so in separate beds. And you feel restless. You lay in bed, your gaze fixed on the wall as if by sheer will, it will become transparent and grant you a view of him sleeping—the contours of his face softened in serenity, his lashes grazing his cheekbones.

According to Google, Autodromo Nazionale Monza is exactly 39 minutes away from your flat by car. Which isn’t a lot.

You’re not sure what to wear, or what’s exactly going to happen.

It’s Friday. It’s his birthday. He looks gorgeous in the photos that everyone is posting. You just need to get to the track, meet your parents and take your family to the garage. It’s as simple as that.

But you haven’t seen Carlos for more than a week, and the idea of finally seeing him is consuming you.

So you dump your worries in your wardrobe. You search for the few Ferrari pieces you have in your closet and you put out an outfit, and make-up and pretend you’re just going to an event you know nothing about. Because that’s almost the case.

Between the small crowd and the electric atmosphere and the midst of the symphony of roaring engines, you spot your parents and your brothers—their eyes wide with wonder. They’re donning Ferrari shirts and hats, each one with a different number on their clothes.

This blend of family and racing feels strangely comforting.

There’s a guy waiting for you by the entrance, with your passes. You follow him. He asks about the ride to the circuit, if it's your first time, and you can actually relieve some of the anticipation with that small talk. But you’re taking so long.

The corridor leading to the garages seems to stretch endlessly, each step an eternity.

"He's in the garage, preparing for the session. You'll have to be quick," the man informs you, but his words are mere background noise. All that matters is Carlos, and he's waiting. That's all you need.

Stepping into the garage, the noise amplifies. It's a chaotic dance of technicians and engineers, each absorbed in their tasks. You scan the frenetic scene, searching for him, but his absence is louder than the noise.

“Carlos must be arriving. Boys,” he drops to your brothers. “Want to see the car up close?”

Of course, they say yes, and they follow the man. Your dad tags along and your mother? Well, she’s apparently very interested in the sport, as well.

The first Sainz you see is Carlos’ cousin, to whom you’ve been not introduced yet, but who quickly recognizes you. You introduce yourself, and he chuckles and you say you’re “Carlos’ friend”. And then Sainz Sr. appears, with Carlos right beside him, talking to a tall skinny guy.

And God. He’s a vision in that damned racing suit.

Time seems to slow as he approaches, and when he turns to you, his eyes light up with a radiant smile. The world fades away.

“Happy birthday,” is all that occurs to you.

And a “thank you for being here,” is all that he can say before being dragged away to the screens.

This time it isn’t Reyes or Sainz Sr., but Carlos who invites your family for dinner. It's an offer you simply can't refuse, and even though your brothers are practically nodding off from fatigue, the moment they step inside the Hotel de la Ville, and notice where they are, exhaustion seems to magically dissipate.

The entire day was amazing, but you’ve barely had a chance to be near Carlos. So, as he finally takes his seat across from you, the desire to kiss him simmers just beneath your skin, burning you whole. He's clad in his signature red shirt, his unruly hair falling playfully over his forehead. And he’s wearing white jeans, which makes the colour of his tanned skin intensify.

Caught in the act of admiring him, you see him move his eyebrows. You roll your eyes and swiftly adjust your position in the chair, refocusing on your dads’ intense discussion about the latest football market moves.

“Piccina,” your mother chimes in. “You never told me about the Madrid trip. The gallery. Was it nice?”

You glance at your mother and then at the whole table. Carlos has that playful twinkle in his eyes, clearly anticipating to hear you stutter as you try to talk about the exhibition. Well, you did pay attention to the art, of course, but what remains in your mind is the way Carlos’ eyes always managed to drift to you, no matter which room you were in.

“It was beautiful, Mom,” you reply, offering her a warm smile. “I’ve already told Carlos how grateful I am for the invite.” At the head of the table, Sainz Sr. smiles at you, with a simple yet approving nod. “The other Carlos tagged along with me. He got to learn a lot about art. Right, junior?”

Carlos leans to you, propping his elbows on the table, a trace of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I have to admit, you managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting."

Thankfully, Sainz Sr.'s hearty laughter momentarily steals everyone's attention, giving you a chance to regain your composure. Your cheeks are warm, and from the feeling of them, you know they’re red. You managed to make even the dullest of rooms seem interesting. And he smiles, because he knows you badly you’re falling.

"Well, that's impressive,” your dad chimes.

And you're not sure if he's complimenting Carlos's smooth line or your ability to be a guide. So you ignore him and try to play it cool.

“So,” your mom continues, her hand resting on your arm, her curiosity fully piqued. "You two spent a good time together in Madrid?"

You share a subtle glance with Carlos before nodding. "Yes, we did. It was a great exhibition."

A brief hush falls over the table and you can’t help but feel like you’re under a microscope and everyone can see through you. Carlos’ gaze, steady and unwavering, is locked onto you, and you feel yourself softening, captured in his attention.

“Well,” Sainz Sr., who's been quietly observing, interjects with a warm smile. "It seems like you two have been getting along quite well."

Carlos chuckles and looks down, his fingers lightly tapping the rim of his glass. You both exchange a quick look, a silent understanding passing between you.

It’s time.

"Actually," you start, "we've been getting along really, really well."

Reyes leans in. "Oh? Do tell."

“We’ve been…” You hesitate, glancing at Carlos for support.

He meets your gaze. “Dating,” he completes your sentence with a confident smile. “We’ve been dating for a while now. Six, seven-ish months?”

Sainz Sr.’s eyes light up, and then he furrows his brows, clearly processing the information. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch the gears turning in his mind.

“That’s before—way before I… introduced you.”

“In my defence,” you chime in. “I did try to tell you we’ve already met before. Blame your son. He’s the one who decided to play with you for so long.”

“Well, this is… wonderful news.” Sainz Sr. beams. You steak a glance at Carlos, knowing he’s definitely going to tease you about how genuinely pleased you looked after revealing the truth. “So, seven months, eh? Okay. When’s the wedding? And when do I get Carlos the 3rd?”

I had so much fun writing this one!!! I used every little break at work to write this. It's a bit different than what I usually write, so all feedback is appreciated. Thank you for the request! 🫶

[inmaki]

as an apology for my constant disappearing here is a preview for my virgin nanami fic, hopefully done by the end of this month <3

hurt (comfort in full fic), making out, nanami being dumb

nanami kento was an orderly man.

not a single strand of his golden hair ever strayed from its place. his tie was never too far to the right or the left — only smack dab in the middle against his built chest.

his crisp, navy shirt didn't dare have a wrinkle on it, much like his allen edmond shoes that were free from any creases despite being worn every day for years.

it made you want to ruin him. ruin such perfection in all his towering glory.

and you did - at least, at much as nanami would let you.

intense makeout sessions happened every so often: during impromptu movie nights on the couch, in the morning under the warmth of your shared blankets, and especially after extra-hard days at work.

yet it never went further, no matter how hard you tried to initiate anything — whether it be a hand sliding down too low, or a soft moan into his mouth, nanami would be fumbling up an excuse to leave immediately. just like now.

"mmph.. 'missed you," you mumble against his swollen lips, sucking the bottom one greedily. the man had only just walked into the kitchen when you'd practically pounced on him in hunger.

despite his surprise, kento gives you the privilege of running your nails through his once-perfectly-slicked-back hair, grunting as you yank him even closer with his tie, loosening it in the process.

"missed you too, honey." even the simplicity of his giant hands caressing your waist sends a rush of arousal through your body, humming as you rub a hand down the solid ridges of his abs. he tasted like the coffee he'd probably been sipping languidly throughout the day, mixed in with the natural flavor of him.

memories of the sorcerer slipping in and out of the shower shirtless — toned torso on display and all — were some of the hardest in your book. occasionally, you would joke to him about dropping your panties then and there. you never actually dropped them (that could easily change if he so asked), but you were pretty much hanging on to them for dear life every afternoon.

and in response to your compliment, nanami would only chuckle nervously before shutting the door behind him to change in the closet. an ugly feeling would blossom in your chest every time at his lack of enthusiam or reciprocation to your desire, though you never let the thought spiral.

a few minutes later, your lips remained glued to his, passionately making out against the counter while continuing your adventure around his body, never straying below his belt.

nanami felt dizzy as he finally pushed away to take a breath. usually he was quite good at keeping up with your ineffable needs — he placed the blame on his depletion from work.

a groan involuntarily escapes him as you lower your lips to suck beneath his jawline, bound to leave a mark. "my love, what's got you so worked up?" he inquires with closed eyes, tilting his head up to give you further access.

you hum in approval of the action, sucking even harder. "told you, i missed you."

before you could stop to think, your hand that was once on his abs instinctively moved lower to rest just above his bulge, and then everything stopped.

with a shaky clear of his throat, nanami pushes off the counter, forcing you to back away while his hands drop to his beige dress pants.

your brows furrow. "what-"

"i'm gonna take a shower." his eyes avert, adam’s apple bobbing smoothly.

not another word follows as your boyfriend paces to the apartment's shared bedroom, leaving you to drown in your cynical thoughts.

if u wanna be tagged comment/send an ask! srry this is short but the full fic is much longer!!! i am like 3/4 done! i js procrastinate writing the smut (also the reason part 2 of my gojo fic is taking forever) T-T

read virgin gojo while u wait <3

[al1fers-haven]

Almost Instinctual

Alastor x pregnant!reader

‼️pregnant reader, pregnancy in general, overprotective Alastor, a bit of angst, secret pregnancy‼️

Prompt: In where you, y/n, go to the Hazbin hotel for shelter after splitting up with your previous boyfriend. And try and keep your pregnancy a secret until you find a better solution.

Part 1 (you’re here!), part 2

(I am lazy and am writing this like it’s a bunch of facts and writing specific scenes…I might rewrite when I get my laptop.)

(8 weeks/2 months)

You and your boyfriend had split up about a week ago, afraid you’ll run out of money eventually you decided that instead of staying at a creepy motel with no locks, you’d move to a free-helpful option.

Of course you felt a little bad for abusing the owners kindness, using the Hazbin hotel not for redemption, but instead for shelter and food.

Charlie had welcomed you in with open arms (literally, she squeezed you pretty hard.) and even introduced you to everyone except for two who were out running around hell.

Alastor was explained to you as a creepy, tall deer man who may sound rude but has good intentions.

And Charlie explained angeldust as a ‘work in progress’ and told her a couple stories instead of describing him.

Charlie offered you the job of receptionist, claiming that husker wasn’t exactly good with the socializing aspect of it and you happily accepted. Eyes beaming at the opportunity for a job right infront of you.

(12 weeks/3 months)

You were happily greeted with nausea every morning. The morning sickness now starting to affect you more than ever, you haven’t exactly told anyone about your pregnancy and were hoping to be out of the hotel by the time you started showing.

Now working at the hotel for a bit, you noticed that probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Are you alright y/n?” Charlie peaked her head into the bathroom; a small frown on her face as you heaved a bit, nodding.

“Yup- I’m just dandy..! Mind getting me a wet towel or something love? I think I ate something bad yesterday…” Charlie let out a little gasp and nodded, running off to god knows where just to get that little thing for you.

You had actually started to get to know the patrons of the hotel more, for example. You learned angeldust was actually the pornstar you had heard about all over social media. And he adored three things.

Making people uncomfortable.

Cocaine.

And candy crush.

Husk had given you a couple of sickness remedies, saying that they would help with stomach bugs. All natural just incase you were allergic and you slowly started to warm up to him.

Charlie and vaggie had grown to be very special to you now. Their opposite personalities absolutely making you giggle everytime you hung out with them or went out for groceries.

Now, Alastor was an odd fellow. He was a bit younger than you since you were hellbotn and all but he seemed to act older than you. Calling you things like ‘dear’, ‘Cher’, or Mon biche.

Mon biche was the most common one, and after looking it up. You realized he was calling you my doe, or just doe 90% of the time.

He definetly knew. Not letting you eat any form of ‘raw meat’ that would go on your plate and even specially making drinks for you so you felt like you could participate in drinking games without suspicion.

Overall, he was a total kitten. A bit emotionally stunted in areas of course..but he never failed to brighten the room.

(Unless he was threatening someone.)

(17 weeks/3.2 months)

You started showing, not visibly with clothing on but you were still showing when you sat down.

Your closet changed a bit, from nice outfits to usually a dress you had gotten or some high waisted sweats, trying to be as comfortable as possible in your state.

Alastor had been…odd.

He had started to let you grab his arm when going up or down the stairs, which usually during conversations he’d just stand at the bottom waiting. And he now seemed like he was constantly watching you.

Husker had done the same. The two animal demons in the hotel knowing because of a certain change in smell, it wasn’t like you didn’t know it was going to happen.

Husker had promoted for just leaving you alone and stopping the mean comments, understanding that pregnant women were a force to be reckoned with. (And you appreciated that. You had been crying earlier that day for the cookie you bought not tasting like blueberry’s.)

You cried a couple times because of angel, which Alastor just stared at you as you sniffled and attempted to keep the conversation going.

You also cried about 2 days ago because Charlie bought you a pretty necklace. It was hell.

Alastor tried to be accommodating in the field of emotional intelligence but…he failed. Making you cry more times than he could count and to be honest he only cared that he did because you were quite literally an angel to everyone.

Husker asked you in private one day if Mr smiles was the daddy to that little hellspawn and all you could do was laugh and blush a bit. Telling husker that he wasn’t and that he was just acting that way because she was a single mother.

Husker didn’t understand that, Alastor never had a soft spot for women her age.

(20 weeks/4 months)

First time you let anyone touch your stomach was during this time period, Alastor did so with adoration almost. Mentioning something about how he always had a soft spot for women with children..

You two had grown a bit closer.

Husker definitely still had his suspicions about you and the baby. He really thinks is alastors with the way he had been acting.

The red demon had gone out of his way several times to get you your weird ass cravings. One day you asked for a bite of his venison and then cried because you weren’t allowed to have it

You found him coming near you more often and asking multiple times to touch your baby bump as it grew, and everytime you let him that little tail of his would wag a bit behind him. Seemingly happy with the little life growing inside you.

He got more protective as well. Way more protective. He was your puppy that followed you around basically.

(He totally got you a bunch of ice cream, or helped you out with foods and sickness with his old man knowledge.)

(25 weeks/5 months)

If you wanna talk about awkward? Everyone in the hotel basically thought you and Alastor were a thing with how weird you two were together.

You would always be caught either straightening his bow tie or dusting off his shoulders. The term doting describing the two of you around one another.

May or may have not let it slip to Charlie that ‘it’s not like that, Alastor has said multiple times he doesn’t want to prey on pregnant women.

She asked to be the godmother.

Alastor hated the thought of that actually when you brought up that Charlie might be a good fit when he was giving you a snack. A nerve you didn’t know he had.

Soon everyone knew you were pregnant and angel was absolutely infatuated with this information. Asking who’s it is and stuff like that.

(7 months)

Alastor and you were practically a thing- he would help you out a lot and in return you’d kiss his cheek or help him out with cooking.

He practically worships the ground you walk on. Foot rubs for when they hurt, running a bath for you. Even going out of his way to compliment your outfits (even if you looked downright awful that day)

He even accompanied you to return the ring your ex gave you. Along with a couple other belongings you had from him.

Alastor may or may have not been seen with you outside , and you were mentioned by Rosie the next time.

(8 months)

Alastor and you had become somewhat official, if letting a dude fall asleep on your pregnant stomach bc he wanted to means official. Then yes( you were.

After you had a talk with Alastor about why he acted the way he did around you he simply said it was almost instinctual to take care of you. Something along the lines of him also being a gentleman.

He had invited you out to cannibal town, where you met Rosie and she was absolutely infatuated with you. Asking you questions and being so lovely towards you. Even going as far as mentioning she had her fair share of labor experience when it came to giving birth!

Alastor was very pleased to hear Rosie would help you- a bit scared she would eat the baby though…

(Part two coming out about nine months and the actual baby?)

[farmerstarter]

The Bachelors and How They Sleep

hello lovelies! Have some more of my headcanons. These HCs are for a gn! reader. If you have any requests then feel free to send me an ask! Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated 🌷🤍

Alex:

🏈 Moves a lot during his sleep. But he doesn't outright punch you by accident. You always seem to end up being under him.

🏈 Mumbles a lot too. One time, you woke up to him counting to himself, just like how he counts his bicep curls.

🏈 Wakes up early, just a few moments before you. He says it's because he needs to exercise the first thing in the morning. But it's actually because he felt you move out of the bed and he doesn't like to be alone.

🏈 Gives you all the pillows to make you comfortable. He says it's important for your muscles to get a good night's rest. He ends up hogging the blankets.

Elliott:

🪶 Sleeps like a dead man. He doesn't move at all, save for the occasional turning to the side to snuggle against you.

🪶 It takes him a while to finally succumb to slumber. He says it's because he's used to listening to the waves of the beach to fall asleep.

🪶 Silk pajamas, the man has sets of them. He keeps his hair down while sleeping so you sometimes wake up to your whole face being covered by his locks.

🪶 He's a late riser, mostly because he sleeps late too. He tells you that he writes better at night and he doesn't allow himself to rest until he's finished writing one chapter at least.

Harvey:

🛩️ Sometimes, Harvey forgets to take off his glasses before he goes to bed. Which is why he has so many broken ones that he tries to hide from you by kicking them under the bed.

🛩️ Professional cuddler. He always makes sure you're in his arms or vice versa. He needs to touch you in order to get a good night's rest. Doesn't matter if you two are spooning or if it's just his hand on top of your arm.

🛩️ Snores a lot. Goes "hoooonk mimimimimi hoooonk mimimimi"

🛩️ I like to imagine him wearing those pajamas that's like just a long night gown and those floppy pointy hats. You know the one.

Sam:

🎸 Alex mumbles in his sleep, Sam straight up sings. Usually it's outbursts of the choruses of his songs, sometimes he'd hum the tune out. You have a video of him playing air drums while sleeping. You sent the video to Abigail and Sebastian, and they never let Sam hear the end of it.

🎸 He wakes up super late most of the time. But on the rare occasion where he doesn't, he cooks breakfast and serves it to you in bed. Complete with a flower in a vase and everything.

🎸 Always kisses you before he falls asleep. Straight up drags you to his side of the bed to peck your lips.

🎸 Would take off his shirt to put it on you. He says he doesn't want you getting cold at night and waves you off when you refuse, worried about his wellbeing. "I don'T gEt sicK eaSiLy, Babe," ends up in the clinic to get meds the next day.

Sebastian:

👾 It's my headcanons and I say he moves a LOT during his sleep. So much so that you end up on the floor when you wake up. He refuses to believe that he does that.

👾 His sleep schedule depends on you. He refuses to sleep unless you're already in the house. He doesn't like the feeling of sleeping when he doesn't know you're safe. You'll find him waiting for you on the porch.

👾 Prefers to sleep on the side of the bed where the sun doesn't shine.

👾 Immediately feels it when you get out of the bed. And he wakes up immediately, groggy and needing a few minutes to register where he is. Even if you're just going to get a glass of water, Sebastian would wake up and ask where you're going.

Shane:

🐣 This man says good night to all the chickens in your coop before he goes to bed, I decided.

🐣 He used to get little to no hours of sleep but after moving in with you, he tries to get enough sleep as possible.

🐣 Hugs you in his sleep, all the time.

🐣 He wakes up the same moment you do, sometimes earlier. He gave himself the job to take care of your farm animals so you don't have to work too hard. So he wakes early to get the job done as soon as possible to spend breakfast with you.

🐣 My brother in Yoba, he would wake up in the middle of the night to get a snack. You would sometimes catch him in the middle of drinking cows milk straight out of the bottle in front of the open fridge.

[ane-doodles]

Make it turquoise!

Cult of the Lamb Narindersona and Lambsona :D

Special thanks to @linkerbell for motivating me to draw, name and finally share them

Below information extracted from a conversation on discord:

Aneerinder:

(Using he/him for this occasion)

I wanted to maintain both the theme of the felines and the god of death but with a bit of the Japanese aesthetic that I like and other details that I usually use in my drawings.

First, the species is still a serval (like my Narinder) but in white. The stripes and spots they have are painted by him himself, except for the ears and tail, which are natural.

Instead of just making him the god of death, I wanted to base him a little more on the idea of a prophet, who receives messages from the future and teaches them to others if you ask in the right way. He is considered the writer of destiny, even though as such it is outside his area, how someone lives or dies is outside his power, he only receives them and archives the stories of their life.

Based on this idea of a writer/illustrator, the idea was born that his hands would function as a writing instrument (similar to this character in the movie 9 who had pen(? fingers to write). Constantly gushing ichor from these using them as ink…

Jumping to the moment of imprisonment hehehe

He is partially blinded using a paper talisman behind his head. To prevent it from being able to write or create something with the ink/ichor, it is surrounded by water, so that the ink always runs.

He also ends up being immobilized with red ropes as an allegory to the "red thread of destiny", especially his right hand is especially tangled to prevent him from continuing to "write the destiny of the gods". To prevent the ropes from breaking there are also paper talismans hanging from them.

In short, prevent him from writing/drawing in any way in order to keep the destiny of the gods in his hands. He ends up becoming dependent on other senses, little talking, much listening.

He loves stories, after all his job as a god is also to record the lives of mortals.

Their followers could ask for glimpses of their futures, which were considered predictions.

When someone dies and reaches the other side, they are given a scroll with a copy of the record of their life.

I'm still thinking about how to draw him, but if I design a shape for him as a follower, I'll most likely end up wearing glasses to see.

You will never in your life get him to close the haori he usually wears.

Aniki:

Ok lamb, she/her this time

The lamb genocide occurs during an expedition trip. She coincidentally returns to her village the day it is destroyed. Easily resigned, once she finished digesting the idea that she was the last of her kind she had no choice but to move on.

She's not built for combat, she's even terribly bad at dodging (like me qwq) which is why she dies often.

[Here I have an inside joke in which the god tells her "I may be blind, but I clearly see a lot of death in your future" jsjsjs]

Their crusades mainly consist of collecting resources and trading with traders.

She is very good at managing the cult, to the point where in the first five years it was already self-sustaining. She is also usually quick to meet the demands of her followers and thereby increase the faith of the cult, avoiding at all costs giving sermons because she is too shy to do so. Despite this, in casual conversations with cultists he often talks about the god of death in a way that unconsciously raises their faith.

She never takes the cult on herself, because she couldn't be interested in the idea of taking that burden on herself, which is why all the cult's statues and decorations revolve around the cat.

Now, having a self-sustaining cult and a faith that is constantly growing, she ends up having too much free time, so she spends her time putting together a collection of objects she finds around, making decorations for the cult, playing and exploring.

When she dies she tells stories of common events that occur in the cult, and in return the god tells her stories of past lives that have reached his domain. They have a constant exchange of stories which is what allows them to get closer.

She changes over time (new design yipee) and the crown upon returning to the god grants her a blessing in which she becomes the "eyes of god"

The new design only has some minor changes from the original.

Since she never had the ambition to take power, divinity never affected her.

She only had small surges of devotion and power that made her possessed by the god and that way she was able to defeat the bishops (similar to what a writer would do with his characters)

[mythalism]

i realized the other day after posting about this fan theory that, at this point, it is basically talked about in fandom as if its canon, and newer fans might not understand why. my goal today was to explain the theory and all of the evidence we have for it in inquisition to give people a better understanding of why this has become so ubiquitous, and to hopefully have something to look back on in two months with that "apollo gift of prophecy" dodgeball meme when veilguard proves us right.

very important before i get started: this is not my theory. i didn't make it up. unfortunately, i also don't know exactly who did and if it could even be traced at this point. this is something that many people have believed for a long time, and i'm not the first to write about it. there are a lot of great posts and essays that speculate on this theory, and what it could mean for solas's character going forward.

PLEASE feel free to contribute thoughts, or link to posts you have made yourself or seen before in the replies/reblogs!!! much of my own experience with this comes from long before this account existed, so i dont have exact sources but rather random, amorphous fandom knowledge of this theory and what major arguments have circulated in the past 10 years. this post by @sammakesart and this post by @mrs-gauche went around recently and both touch on this theory and i highly recommend them both! i know @corseque has also written about this theory multiple times over the years.

i was first introduced to this on tumblr when it started gaining ground in the fandom after the release of trespasser in 2015, predominantly due to a couple of lines of cole dialogue from trespasser, so that is where we will begin.

shoutout to @daitranscripts and the dragon age wiki for the dialogue

this line of cole's is basically the foundation of this theory, and what is cited most often. i'm not entirely sure if the theory existed before trespasser, but if it did, i dont remember it being well-known or widely accepted like it is now.

this line is usually interpreted to suggest that solas, who would have been a spirit of wisdom/pride at the time, took a body and came into being as an elf at mythal's behest. this is also the line that suggests solas himself once wore vallaslin, and that he removed it himself using the same spell he uses on a romanced lavellan thousands of years later, but did so clumsily the first time and left the scar we can see on his eyebrow.

first i want to acknowledge what are pretty much the most damning indications of this theory

solas means "pride; to stand tall" in elvhen, according to world of thedas vol. 1

the dread wolf form we see in murals, written descriptions, and of course, in real life in the veilguard trailer, bears a pretty clear resemblance to pride demons:

most notably, in the face and eyes. yeah i dont really have anything else to say about those lmao it's pretty blatant

overall, inquisition tells us a great deal about spirits, and gives the player an alternate worldview through which to understand them, distinct from the chantry/circle narrative presented previously.

solas himself, along with cole, has a lot to say about the nature of spirits throughout his dialogue and banter with several characters. one sentiment that he espouses repeatedly is that spirits and demons are the same thing, but demons are a spirit corrupted and perverted away from its purpose.

Solas: They rarely seek this world. When they do, their natures do not often survive exposure to the people they encounter. Wisdom and purpose are too easily twisted to pride and desire

During All New, Faded for Her:

PC: Solas, you said your friend was a wisdom spirit. Solas: That is not its natural form. It has been corrupted. PC: Corrupted? Solas: Forced to act against its original purpose. What did they do, what did they do, what did they do?

second, that spirits and the fade are a mirror, and reflect the waking world. specifically, that spirits reflect the perception and expectation of a mortal, and adapts accordingly. belief makes reality.

On Ostagar:

PC: I've heard the stories. It would be interesting to hear what it was really like. Solas: That's just it. In the Fade, I see reflections created by spirits who react to the emotions of the warriors. One moment, I see heroic Wardens lighting the fire and a power mad villain sneering as he lets King Cailan fall. The next, I see an army overwhelmed and a veteran commander refusing to let more soldiers die in a lost cause. PC: And you can't tell which is real? Solas: It is the fade. They are all real.

and third, that spirits are people.

solas expresses concerns over what the breach does to spirits at multiple points, including here with cassandra.

he also regularly argues in favor of spirits personhood, and passionately pushes back against characters who argue the opposite, such as dorian:

as well as the inquisitor themselves, should they choose certain dialogue options:

PC: You trust these spirits not to possess you the first time you accidentally make a wish? Solas: Do you trust your friends not to turn on you? (authors note: LMFAOOOOOOO) PC: Well, yes, but they're people. Solas: Ah, of course. PC: You know what I mean. Solas: Are people only people because they are flesh and blood? Solas: Is Cassandra defined by her cheekbones and not her faith? Varric by his chest hair not his wit? PC: They're not defined by their bodies, but they do have bodies. You need one to be a person. Solas: A demon possessing a corpse has a body. PC: A living body. Solas: A demon possesses a living mage to become an abomination. PC: They didn't make that body. They just took it over. Solas: Technically your mother created your body, with some help from your father, one assumes. PC: You've thought about this. Solas: On occasion, yes. OR:

PC: Spirits are bound by their nature. You said it yourself. They're shaped by contact with real people. Solas: Just as Leliana was shaped by contact with Divine Justinia, as those who serve the inquisition are shaped by you. If I change your mind in this conversation, does that mean you're no more real than a spirit? OR: PC: Im certain you have some rhetorical trick ready to counter anything I say. Solas: It's likely. I've had a lot of time to discuss the question with people. Or "spirits", if you prefer.

aside from this entire conversation being hilarious and very fen'harel coded, i think its notable that his enthusiasm and snark here is distinct from the way he engages in other debates, where he is often clinical and detached. on the subject of spirits, however, we get a lot more emotional investment from him - it feels personal. as he says, he's thought about it. on occasion.

solas having originally been a spirit adds helpful context for his insistence on spirit's personhood despite modern thedas's completely contradictory beliefs, and also helps inform his worldview more generally, especially in regards to elves.

one of solas's most heavily criticized aspects is his disdain for modern elves and the dalish. and i agree, it's fucked up and he is an absolute ass about it at nearly every opportunity. however, his feelings regarding the elves sometimes seem... strange, even in the context of him being an ancient elf.

keeping in mind cole's line from trespasser, that he "did not want a body", as well as another cole line from trespasser:

most people infer that there is some sort of resentment on solas's end for him having to become human at mythal's request. it seems as if he was turned away from his purpose. wisdom forced to be pride.

cole's personal quest, which shows solas passionately arguing to keep cole a spirit, supports this. it is almost as if he is trying to prevent cole from the same fate that was forced upon him.

throughout the quest he says things such as: "This is not some fanciful story, child of the stone. We cannot change our nature by wishing." "A spirit does not work through emotions. It embodies them." "You would alter the essence of what he is." "It is good that he is not entirely changed, however human he becomes."

most telling of all, i think is this line at the end of the quest if you elect to keep cole as a spirit.

Varric: "He could have been a person." Solas: Possibly. Would that have made him happier?

OUGGHGH.

clearly, for solas, the answer was no. being a person has not made him happier.

regardless, solas still values spirits as fundamentally equal to people despite their differences and worthy of the same freedoms, self-determination and respect.

this kinship with spirits, however, might help explain his disdain for elves, in a way i find to be more satisfying than "all ancient elves are assholes" and more in-line with his character overall.

it seems as if solas doesnt see himself as separate from modern elves because he doesnt see himself as a modern elf, but that he doesnt not see himself as an elf at all, but rather as a spirit.

solas infamously says, following halamshiral if you bring up briala:

"I'm sorry, I was confused. I do not consider myself to have much in common with the elves."

the inquisitor has the option for several responses, and although most of us probably pick the one that tells him to fuck off, the others are more telling:

PC: Nor should you. You're not defined by the shape of your ears. They're not your people. Solas: No, they are not. OR PC: Who do you have much in common with. Who are your people? Solas: A good question. Solas: I joined the inquisition to save the world. Regardless of who "my people" are, this was the best way to help him.

"not being defined by the shape of your ears" and solas's immediate identification with the statement and approval of it sticks out to me. it seems like he's just being racist, and he very well might be, but in the context of this theory, it can also be interpreted as him disliking being "defined" by having a body at all, or any physical characteristics, consistent with how he resists the idea that varric and cassandra are defined by their own physical characteristics.

if the player insists they want to help the orlesian elves even if he doesnt, he still has something interesting to say:

Solas: Stop Corypheus. That will do for a start. It speaks well of you to feel for the oppressed. Help them for that. Know them for what they are.

this is not the only time he equates all oppressed groups of thedas to one another, defined by their shared subjugation rather than the real, in-world divisions such as race and religion. it's also interesting to consider the relationship between oppression, as a situation that evokes certain emotions in those who experience it, such as pride. as solas says of ostagar, spirits there were drawn to the emotions of the soldiers there. are spirits of pride drawn to situations of oppression, where pride is needed for liberation?

solas's failure (or refusal) to recognize the reality of how oppression functions in modern thedas along lines of race and ethnicity specifically is one of his biggest flaws, but it continues to fit with this theory, as it is consistent with that same sort of single-minded, spirit tunnel-vision that we see from spirits and demons. i would also assume that he considers spirits to be part of this monolithic group of "the oppressed", considering the spirit slavery/bondage practices in tevinter and nevarra, both of which he criticizes.

i do believe, however, that to equate all of solas's unfair derision of the dalish to him identifying with spirits over people, rather than ancient elves over modern elves, would be too generous and an oversimplification. its also clear how much of his anger towards the dalish comes from... wait for it.... his wounded pride.

solas is prideful. when he is faced with pride in others, he becomes defensive, even nasty. when his pride is challenged, often by others pride, he becomes almost unrecognizable. the dalish specifically rub up against his pride, in the most specific of ways that grate at his most cherished qualities and that disregard his own perception of himself. the thing he is most proud of, leading a slave rebellion against corrupt tyrants, erased from history entirely. branded a traitor instead, while those he fought against are worshiped as saviors for millennia.

Solas: I have joined my fair share of causes. But when I offered lessons learned in the Fade, I was derided by my enemies... and sometimes by my allies. Liar. Fool. Madman. There are endless ways to say something isn't worth listening to. Over time, it grinds away at you.

its also possible, considering what we know of the nature of expectation creating reality for spirits, that the dalish framing of the dread wolf actually does indeed make him worse - more arrogant, less compassionate, more ruthless, more cunning, more of a liar. a spirit being perverted into a demon based on the dominant perception of it.

perhaps the most interesting tidbit about solas of all which supports this theory, is that this phenomenon of expectation shaping his nature, making him more prideful or more humble, is not exclusive to the world of thedas, but also occurs on a meta-level with the player by proxy of the inquisitor.

a 2020 interview of trick weekes, solas's writer, says this pretty much verbatim.

"Solas mirrors. If you approach Solas from a place of humility and say, "I want to learn from you," Solas will bend over backwards to tell you how flawed he is and how he's just coming at this from his own limited understanding. If you come in with ego, Solas is genetically incapable of not bristling when he sees your ego... because he can't not do that."

this is fascinating for like 7 million reasons, but most notably for the language trick uses that i believe to be incredibly revealing. first, solas himself talks about how spirits "mirror" the real world multiple times. second is the way in which they speak about solas's mirroring as innate, uncontrollable, and involuntary. he is genetically incapable of not mirroring. genetically incapable of not bristling at someone else's pride. this being a genetic incapability implies, pretty unambigously, that he is a spirit. we dont know of any people in thedas who have pride in their DNA. except. you know. pride demons.

pride is his purpose. he cannot turn away from it or betray that purpose to pursue something else. he cannot change his nature simply by wishing. if he were to attempt it, he would be corrupted.

trick offers this information as an explanation for player's extremely varied perception of solas when playing the game, and it perfectly mimics the way solas himself talks about spirits as being created by a dreamer's expectation of them.

when asked about his friendships with spirits, he says:.

PC: You're saying that you became friends with pride and desire demons? Solas: They were not demons for me. PC: Meaning? Solas: The Fade reflects the minds of the living. If you expect a spirit of wisdom to be a pride demon, it will adapt/ And if your mind is free of corrupting influences? If you understand the nature of the spirit? They can be fast friends.

i just love how perfectly this reflects every fandom argument that's been had on twitter about solas for the past 10 years. like seriously.

random twitter user: you like that guy!? but hes a [demon]!! solas stans: he wasn't a demon for me

and it is true; people who are pretty deep into the games often know what solas is like to a low-approval inquisitor, but it can be shocking for new players to see what he is like at the other end of the approval spectrum, whether that is someone who hated him seeing the tenderness with which he kisses a romanced lavellan goodbye to remove her anchor in trespasser, or someone who romanced him witnessing the cruelty and detachment which with he grabs a low-approval inquisitor to yank off their anchor. he becomes almost an entirely different person based on how the player treats him.

for all that solas, in true spirit form, reflects the perceptions of the players, he has plenty of pure pride-demon vibes on his own, independent of player expectation. he is not just proud, or made proud as a mirror for player/character pride, but he often even goes as far as to act in ways that mimic how we have seen from spirits more generally, as well as pride demons specifically.

the wiki states:

"Spirits are not complex in the sense that they seize upon a single facet of human experience, and this one idea becomes their identity.[3] They are formed as a reflection of the real world and its passions.[10] A spirit embodies and latches onto a specific purpose and will do all in its power to fulfill that purpose. For instance, a hunger demon will attempt to feed on anything it crosses,[4] and a spirit of justice will stop at nothing to uphold its name”

along with further reinforcing solas's tunnel vission as characteristic of spirits, he does indeed intentionally attempt to stoke arrogance in others, as well as test characters to see if they are vulnerable to arrogance and power-hungriness. this is probably best exemplified by his banter with vivienne, versus his banter with cassandra.

i mean this one is self explanatory. cmon.

but it becomes especially interesting when compared to his interactions with cassandra, of whom he starts out very distrustful of. however, through their banter, he immediately begins to test her for indications of her inclination towards arrogance and desire for power:

cassandra passes solas's tests and earns his approval through her humility, curiosity, and willingness to give up power for the greater good. as a result, solas softens considerably towards her, and becomes more evocative of wisdom than pride, offering her advice when she asks, though very humbly:

"i would hardly presume" is actually hilarious considering how he does presume. ALL THE TIME. but it shows the extent of this "mirroring" that trick mentions, when compared to how he speaks with vivienne, who does not pass his tests of pride: notice how his jabs at her specifically target her pride, the things she is proud of about herself, and tear them down:

he tells her that her position in the orlesian court is unearned, that the freedom she is so proud of winning for herself will come to an inevitable end, and that her resistance to demons does not make her special. its absolutely BRUTAL.

its especially important to note how little bearing vivienne and cassandra's backgrounds have on solas's perception of them. vivienne is a circle mage, a group of people who solas deeply sympathizes with, and believes should be freed. meanwhile cassandra is effectively templar, a group whom solas despises and finds unjust, and has been complacent in the oppression of mages that solas is so vehemently against.

and yet? it does not matter. he measures their worth based entirely on their propensity for pride.

it’s worth noting too, keeping in mind Solas’s almost uncharacteristic reverence for cassandra’s faith in the maker and (take this with a grain of salt because it was david gaider and he said via forum post….) that there are actually two types of spirits that become pride. wisdom, and faith.

"A spirit embodies and latches onto a specific purpose and will do all in its power to fulfill that purpose."

what we DONT know: pretty much everything else about this. what was the process like? at what point in history did he take the body? how was that body made? was it stolen? did he start as wisdom and turn into pride later? did he always oscillate between both? was he corrupted by what was asked of him, to fight, as his friend was in his personal quest?

i could continue talking about this forever, probably, especially with how it manifests in the solavellan relationship and what it suggests for solas's story in veilguard, but ill cut it here for both my own sanity and yours. but first, a few fun dialogue bits that strike me as very pride-demon coded but didn't fit anywhere else in this analysis.

in conclusion:

[nicka-nell]

Can i request tsukishima, kuroo, semi and futakuchi being interrumped at sexy moments with their s/o (for example, they are kissing your neck so slowly that you can't breathe and boom! the door bell)

Hi anon! I don't know what happened, but I suddenly had a big boost of motivation and just wrote your sweet request. 😅🥰 I really need to get back into writing... It was so unfamiliar and kind of hard, but it was still fun. Sorry if it's kind of bad. I tried my best. 🥹

Getting interrupted during sexy time

Pairing: Tsukishima x, Kuroo x, Semi x, Futakuchi Kenji x reader

Warning: fluff, slightly mention of nsfw, mdni

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Tsukki... are you still reading through that report on dinosaurs?” you sigh as you get up from his bed and walk over to his desk, looking over his shoulder. 

“This isn’t just any dinosaur. It’s a Camptosaurus, one of the rarest. Researchers found bones of this dinosaur a few days ago.” Tsukishima replies in his usual tone. Instead of answering him, you just nod with a slight smile. It’s actually quite cute when he talks about something that fascinates him. 

“Ooh, I see... what did they look like before?” you ask curiously, taking the opportunity to roll his desk chair backwards and sit on his lap. A grumpy ‘hey’ escapes Tsukishima as you make yourself comfortable, your back against his chest. He accepts it and puts his free hand around your waist. 

“Here... this is what a camptosaurus used to look like.” Tsukishima leans forward. You automatically move with him as he hands you his cell phone and you look at the pictures in the report. “Wow, that’s a big dinosaur. I’d be an easy snack for it.” you giggle and glance to the side at Tsukishima, who is looking over your shoulder at his cell phone. 

“No, they were herbivores. At most, it would eat your plants that you look after sporadically,” he replies sarcastically, and you stick your tongue out at him before laughing lightly. Now he looks away from his cell phone and up at you. 

“What? I’m right,” he says, and you just roll your eyes playfully. “Sometimes you’re really mean. But I love you for it.” You reply and watch Tsukishima’s eyes widen for a moment. The tips of his ears redden before he turns away. Oh Tsukki... you think and turn a little more in his lap, so that you are now facing him head-on, before you cup his cheeks with your hands and kiss him. “What, shy?” You say mischievously, but he only returns your grin with an arrogant look. 

“Shy? Did you see your reflection in my glasses?” he teases back and leans forward, trapping you between himself and the table. “Oh, now I’m scared,” you say sneeringly, as Tsukishima pulls you towards his hips by your waist, his face bent forward. “Don’t be cheeky, or else-“

“Or else what?” you interrupt him before he whispers softly, “Punishment.” Before you can get any further into your teasing, you feel his warm lips on yours. Your heart beats fast and you feel like you’re on fire. His fingertips, which sneak lightly under your t-shirt and touch your skin, make you sigh softly.

“Have you lost your tongue?” he whispers before his lips meet yours again. His kiss is slow and long. His tongue parts your lips before the kiss becomes even more intimate. 

You feel his thumbs caressing your bare skin under your shirt, slowly traveling up your sides before you break away from the kiss and look at him with a mischievous grin. “Who knows? Looks like you’re going to have to try to get me talking again.” 

“Easy.” he replies grinning, before he starts to kiss your neck. His lips are warm on your skin, his teeth nibble lightly. 

“Is that a challenge?” you breathe as you tilt your head back, your hands wrapping around Tsukishima’s neck. You feel his smirk on your neck, his hands pushing your shirt up and his upper body pressing even closer to yours, pushing your back further against the table behind you. “Mhh Tsukki...” you sigh and feel the desire for more rising inside you.

“Easier than I thought.” he smiles triumphantly as he continues to kiss your neck when you suddenly hear the door opens. 

“Do you want to have dinner with us later or are you going to the cinem-?” you hear Akiteru, who enters the room happily and quickly gets wide-eyed when he sees you both. 

“Eh, I… well... I think mum just called.” He turns around somewhat awkwardly and instantly closes the door behind him. Embarrassed, you put your face in your hands and feel like sinking into the ground. 

“Oh my God, how shameful...” you sigh, but instead of being embarrassed, Tsukishima clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes. “Annoying... He’s old enough to know that doors aren’t decorative objects. They’re there to be knocked on before you pull the door open,” he says with a slightly annoyed undertone. 

You feel your face grimace as you glare at him. “That’s not funny Tsukki. How am I supposed to look your brother in the eye at dinner now?” 

Your snappy words make Tsukishima roll his eyes again. But it’s not an annoyed eye roll, more like an amused one. “Just don’t look him in the eye if it bothers you that much. But just for the record... my room has neither airtight windows nor doors. In other words, it’s not a soundproof room. Don’t you think my brother knows what we do here at night? I’m pretty sure he hears you every time. You’re not exactly quiet, are you?” Tsukishima teases you with a smirk before leaning forward and pulling your hands away from your face to look at you. 

“Tsukki! My God, why would you say that? I hate you!” you say mad, feeling the heat only rise to your face more before you kick him lightly and sigh more. Ah, Tsukishima loves to see your embarrassed face when he teases you. “Sure, that’s why you annoy me every day.” he smirks before giving you a kiss on the nose. 

The national team’s volleyball matches are coming up again and Kuroo is working overtime more often. He’s staying late at the office today. He's the only one except for a few colleagues there, when you knock on his office door and enter it. With a gentle smile, you hold a bag of food in the air. Kuroo still seems to be in a videoconference. You quietly unpack the box of food and place it on his desk before making yourself comfortable on the sofa in the corner of his office as you wait for his meeting to be over. 

It doesn’t take long for him to say goodbye and take his headset off his head, rubbing his eyes tiredly before clicking on the “leave” button for the online meeting. 

With an understanding smile, you walk to him, wanting to ask him if you should massage his shoulders, but Kuroo is already stretching out his hands, grabbing yours, before pulling you onto his lap and giving you a kiss.

“Don’t forget to eat something in between,” you say worriedly as Kuroo leans his head against your chest. “You know I’m not a child to look after, right?” Kuroo says teasingly, even though he likes that you’re worried about him. 

You roll your eyes lovingly before looking at the bento box you have prepared for Kuroo. You release your hands from his before reaching for the box to open it. Still sitting on his lap, you pick up the chopsticks and a small piece of tamagoyaki before you bring it to Kuroo’s mouth. “Go on, eat my little baby.” you tease him warmly as Kuroo grins and puts his hands around your waist, opens his mouth and lets you feed him. 

“Well, kitten, I could get used to that,” he purrs as you giggle. “In your dreams. Don’t get too used to it. You’re not old and fragile yet.” you say as you reach for the next piece of tamagoyaki, but you pause as Kuroo’s lips move gently over your neck, nuzzling your skin. 

“I’m actually hungry for something else,” he whispers in your ear as he starts to nibble on your earlobe. His thumb lightly caresses your hip, his breath is warm on your skin and you quickly realize how shy you suddenly feel. 

“Tetsu... there are still colleagues of yours in the office... what if someone comes in? We shouldn’t do something so naughty here.” You reply sheepishly and look to the side. But Kuroo doesn’t even think about stopping now. 

The week was more exhausting than usual. He was hardly ever at home and had many meetings with sponsors or young talents who needed to be supported. To avoid waking you up in the middle of the night, Kuroo either slept in his office or on the sofa in the living room. He misses being close to you. He was glad to see you again today after a hard day. You somehow looked even more charming than usual today. Even if that’s not possible. He’s sure you could have come into his office in sweatpants and a baggy jumper, but his first thought would still have been, ‘wow, that’s my wife’.

“Let them be. There should only be a few colleagues left, anyway. The colleagues who are still working have no reason to come into my office,” Kuroo says throatily between kisses, before his hand strolls from your hip to your chin, he moves away from your neck and peers at you mischievously.

“Besides, you’re the one who said my statement was indecent. How could you possibly think that I had something naughty in mind? I actually only wanted to eat the rice in the bento box and not the egg,” Kuroo says you with a grin. 

Embarrassed, you try to look away, but his hand on your chin stops you. “Now I feel a bit silly. Then... wait, I’ll give you the rice,” you say almost shyly, but Kuroo chuckles. 

“Where do you think you’re going? That was a lie. The thing I crave most right now is right in front of me.” he whispers almost like a predator looking at his prey as he brushes your lips with his thumb before his hand moves to the back of your head when he pulls you close to kiss you. 

His kiss is slow but firm. His tongue quickly finds its way between your lips and makes your heart beat even faster. “Tetsu...” you sigh between kisses, feeling his grin on your lips. “Oh my kitten, don’t worry about the others here. If you stay quiet, no one will hear us, and no one will find out that we’re about to give the desk a quality check.” 

“Shush, you talk too much.” You say sheepishly, feeling his hand wrap itself tighter in your hair as his other hand slides under your top. 

Kuroo is just about to say something, when the vibrating of his mobile phone makes him sigh briefly. He considers answering it, but then he ignores the call and concentrates on kissing you again, pressing your body even closer to him on his lap. “Ah, Tetsu, at least see who’s calling you. Maybe it’s important.” 

“You’re the most important thing right now,” he says hungrily, but you push him away and look at him seriously. Kuroo sighs in frustration, making a mental note to block the contact who has now called him and disturbed your togetherness and remove him from his friend’s list if it’s not really important. 

He clicks his tongue as he reaches for his phone and picks it up even before he can read who is calling him. But his annoyed expression suddenly changes. His eyes grow wide, almost panicked, as he reaches for his mouse and looks at his computer screen. “Kuroo-san, you really seem to have a lovely wife, and I don’t want to disturb you. But… You’re still in the meeting and we can hear and see you,” says an investor with whom he and two of his colleagues were at the meeting earlier. 

Kuroo checks the app he had used for the meeting and sees that instead of clicking the “Leave” button, he had simply minimized the window. He was still in the meeting and everyone could see and hear you. Caught and with a charming smile, Kuroo apologizes before quickly leaving the meeting, almost not daring to look in your direction. Because he knows that you are staring at him with a look that could kill. 

Semi is sitting in his garage as he plays a melody on his guitar and goes through the lyrics he wrote yesterday when he was slightly drunk and partying with his band mambers. 

He is not entirely happy with the melody. It sounds so sad, although the lyrics are actually beautiful. Maybe he should take a break? After all, he’s been practicing here for a while now. “Just one more time, then I’ll take a break,” he mumbles to himself as he starts to play a new melody to the song. Completely in his element, he doesn’t notice when the door to his garage opens and you walk in. 

You wait until he has finished his song before you start clapping. Semi flinches before looking towards the door in your direction. He grabs a cushion that’s next to him on the sofa and throws it in your direction. “Tell me, are you trying to kill me with a heart attack? I’m not that successful yet that it would be worth it for you,” he pouts, but he doesn’t mean any offense. 

Laughing, you catch the pillow and throw it back before walking to him and placing two bottles of juice and two boxes of noodles on the table in front of him. Before you sit down, you cup his cheeks with your hands and give him a loving peck. “Oh damn, I guess I’ll have to wait a few more years than, right? Although... if you keep writing hits like the song you just wrote, then maybe it will only take a few more months.” You say playfully with a smile and brush a strand of hair behind his ear. 

Semi’s ears turn red, his hands still on his guitar before he realizes that you must have just heard the whole song. He had written a song about you. About the woman who turns his head, who will be the death to him even in his dreams. About the woman who makes him smile every day, because that’s what she does to him every day and she doesn’t even have to be there. Because just the thought of you is enough. About the woman who makes him feel strong in every situation, who always supports him. And then there were a few lines that weren’t so suitable for minors. 

“Do you think it’s really sexy if I walk into our kitchen in the morning in just your shirt and make us a coffee?” you grin teasingly. Semi pouts, unsure how to respond. 

You lean further towards him, your fingers brush against his, still holding the guitar. “You know, I find it really sexy when you play the guitar. The way your hands move, how passionate you look when you sing the lyrics you’ve written yourself. Sometimes I wish you’d replace the guitar with me and play with me like you play your guitar,” you say seductively with a hungry look.  

Oh, you really are the death to him, Semi thinks, now also red in the face as he turns to you and his shy look has twisted into a confident and strong smile. “Hey watch out pretty-face. A wise man once said that you should be careful with your wishes, otherwise they will soon come true,” he whispers hoarsely to you, just inches away from your face. 

“Is that so? Then I hope he’s right.” You whisper just as confidently before closing the last distance between you two to kiss him. You playfully bite his lower lip. Your hand caresses his cheek before you wander down his neck, your fingers play with his necklace. You smile briefly before tugging on the necklace and pulling him closer to you. 

“Oh, God, you’re going to send me to hell,” Semi says in a raspy voice before putting down his guitar to kiss you again. He leans forwards, pushing you down onto the sofa before lying on top of you between your legs his lips never leaving yours. His kisses are stormy, taking your breath away.

“Good," you breathe, reaching for the fabric of Semi’s top to pull it off. You throw it on the floor, your hands caressing his muscles hungrily, only giving Semi an even bigger ego boost. 

“Fuck, I love when you do that,” he moans, still kissing you fiercely as his hand slides to your leg, bending it slightly and squeezing the flesh of your thigh. A murmur escapes him as his hand moves further up your skirt to your bum. “Baby, you do things to me-“ 

“Oh boy, here we go again...” a familiar voice suddenly interrupts him. Cursing, Semi flinches and pulls your skirt back into place before looking towards the door. Two of his band mates are standing in the doorway of his garage. The band’s second guitarist looks to the side, embarrassed, and scratches the back of his neck, while the bassist puts his hands on his hips and looks at Semi, shaking his head. 

“Fuck, what are you doing here?” curses Semi, before standing up and helping you into a sitting position. He always meets up with his band in his garage on Fridays. Each of his colleagues has a key to the garage so that everyone can stay longer, even after band practice is over. But today was Thursday... 

“Really? You were the one who wanted to move the rehearsal to Thursday this week because you wanted to meet up with your former school friends tomorrow. You wanted to cheer for that guy... Wakatoshi, right?” the bassist sighs, before taking a few steps forwards and grabbing Semi’s shirt. With a hiss, he throws the shirt in his face. “Can’t you find a room? This is the... fifth time we’ve caught you rubbing your love life in our faces. Or are you secretly telling us to join in? Are you into a gangbang or what?” The bassist laughs as he teases Semi with his words. 

Annoyed by his own forgetfulness, Semi rolls his eyes as he catches the shirt. He sulkily puts the shirt back on before placing his hand protectively on your thigh. “Nothing there, I’m not sharing my girl,” he says seriously, even though his band mate had only said it as a joke. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to give his bandmates a key to the garage after all. Or maybe you should just start keeping your hands to yourselves before and during band rehearsals. 

Futakuchi has just come home from work when he walks into the living room and sees you sitting there with a book in your hand. He looks around the room before his eyes land on you again. “Baby, you’ll damage your eyes if you read a book in this poor light,” he says, before flicking the light switch and turning on the light. 

Engrossed in your book, you didn’t realize that the sun was already setting. “Oh, that’s right... thank you. How was your day?” you ask him as you close the book and look at him with a smile. He comes to you and gives you a quick kiss before stretching. 

“Annoying. The customers were just extremely weird today. With some of them, I wonder how they even get through life,” he grumbles, before undoing the first buttons of his shirt. “But anyway, let’s not talk about work. I’d like to take a shower now and then maybe we can continue watching the series we started yesterday. What do you think?” 

Futakuchi has never been someone who likes to talk about his work. But perhaps it’s just as well that he doesn’t take his work home with him. In any case, he never really seems exhausted or overworked. So you just nod with a smile and pick up your book again. In the time Futakuchi is in the shower, you’re sure to manage another twenty pages. 

Fresh out of the shower, Futakuchi pulls on a pair of shorts and a shirt before rubbing his hair dry and heading back into the living room. With a sigh of relief, he heads for the sofa when he sees you lying there. You’re lying on your stomach, your book in front of you, and your ass right in front of his eyes. In those tight, sexy leggings. Oh, how he loves the way your ass wiggles in those things. 

Unconsciously, he bites his lower lip, sneaks up to you before giving you a slap on the ass and squeezing it with his hands. He jumps on the sofa, kneels over you before playfully pretending to bite your shoulder from behind. 

“Kenji! Haha stop, that tickles.” you laugh, close the book and try to turn around, but Futakuchi won’t let you. 

“You’re doing that on purpose. Showing me your sexy ass like that.” Futakuchi grins, before leaning forwards and trapping you between him and the sofa, kissing your shoulder again. His still damp hair gives you goosebumps. 

“Kenji... I thought we wanted to continue watching our series.” You say a little more quietly now, feeling your body react to his kisses and his touch. 

“Yeah, sure, the series...” mumbles Futakuchi as he moves from your shoulder to your neck, buries his head in the crook of your neck and slides his hands between the sofa and your body, hugging you from behind. “Just let me lie like this for a while,” he sighs contentedly. 

His body lies on top of yours, but he doesn’t press his full weight onto you. You can still breathe. His cool hands on your stomach caress you, his fingertips graze your lower for a moment, and you don’t know what makes your breathing most uneasy. His hands on your body, his body on yours or his breath landing hot on your skin. 

“Ah... Kenji... that’s not the remote that’s between you and me on my butt, is it?” you say as you hear him smirk.

“No baby, you don’t need batteries for this thing to work,” he says mischievously, continuing to rub his pelvis against your ass. A soft moan escapes your lips, Kenji starts kissing your neck, his hand moves up to your breast, the other down between your legs. 

“It’s easier if I turn around- “ you’re about to say, but Futakuchi interrupts you. “But it’s pretty hot like this,” he murmurs, and you feel him rubbing his pelvis harder against you, your own desire growing. With a groan, you lower your head, push your ass upwards and hear Futakuchi murmur. 

“Yeah baby, just like that,” he says, playfully biting your neck before kissing you on the same spot. You both want more. The mood is charged, when you suddenly hear the ringing of your front doorbell. You startle, Futakuchi also briefly considers answering the door. But opening the door with a erection in his shorts wouldn’t be the best idea, anyway. So you both try to ignore it, but the doorbell rings again. 

“Damn!” Futakuchi curses, stands up, pushes the curtains aside slightly and looks out of the living room window. From the living room, you have a good view of the entrance to the front door. His eyes widen and he looks at you. “Oh shit, shit, shit. Go on, say something. Something that really turns me off!” Futakuchi says, almost in a panic. 

You look at him in confusion before sitting up. “Kenji... what’s wrong with you?” you ask, irritated. But Futakuchi seems to be thinking hard about something to get rid of his erection. 

“I forgot that I promised my mum I’d look after my sister for the weekend. The two of them are just outside the front door...” says Futakuchi with a desperate smile. 

“W-what? Kenji! Oh god, open the door, these two can’t stay outside! Or no... wait... you’re not opening the door with that...” you say, pointing at his massive erection. “Go, go into the bathroom and wait there until it’s gone again. And then come to us. I’ll tell your mum and sister that you’re still in the shower,” you say, before straightening your clothes and heading for the door, when Futakuchi comes up to you and hugs you from behind. 

“You’re the best,” he says, kissing your cheek before letting you go. However, he can’t resist giving you a slap on your butt before he leaves. 

[mercyk1ll3r]

whiny!stephen glass x fem reader

warnings; sexual content, needy stephen, no clear sub/dom dynamics, nipple play, creampie, size!kink if u squint, hickeys, slightly subby stephen, teasing, overstimulation,

”hey y/n? if i invited you over and all we did was okay monopoly would you come?” he spoke in your doorway right after getting up to leave your office, he was just asking you to check up on his work before he submitted it. “oh, um i would really like that stephen.” you flashed him a shy smile before quickly looking back at your papers scattered across your desk, trying not to make eye contact for too long, you were scared he would notice how hard you were trying to keep your voice steady. stephen was always such a sweet guy. he made you very a little nervous, the way you could ever so slightly feel his warm breath against your neck when he peered over at your computer, or the way he was constantly complimenting you and praising you for your ‘captivating’ writing, or the way he stared a little too hard at you during meetings.

“well.. are you free tonight?” he spoke staring at his notepad, unintentionally mirroring you. you wondered for a short second if you made him nervous too.. “oh yeah, i am actually.” “great wanna come over maybe around 6? oh that’s around dinner time isn’t it.. i could make dinner for us as well?” he spoke in an shy tone, like he had thought out every word down to the syllable. “oh yeah that would be great steve!” “i was thinking i’d maybe make creamy pesto pasta, or um if you don’t like pasta i could make something else! anything you want..” oh god he’d really fucked up this time he knows it! you probably hate pasta that was such a stu-“no no, i would love pasta.” your sweet tone melted away his worried instantly, leaving a warm feeling behind in his chest.

i could hardly wait for work to end today, although i felt i could probably keel over and die from how nervous i was. i felt like a teenager again waiting for my first date with a cute boy i had a crush on. i spent all the couple hours i had before going to stephens taking my time getting ready, showering, reapplying my makeup, straightening my hair, picking out an outfit. usually i pass out as soon as i get home from work, getting some much needed rest but i was wide awake with anticipation today.

i walked up the steps to stephens door, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm myself down, it worked, kind of.. i wrang the doorbell and stephen answered very quickly, i smiled at the thought of him waiting like a puppy by the window waiting for my car to pull in.

“hey y/n! come on in!” he said stepping out of the way for you to come inside, the smell hit you as soon as he opened the door, an amazing smell, enough to make you starved instantly. “stephen that smells amazing.” “oh yeah the foods nearly ready, i really hope you like it it’s my moms recipe.” he spoke leading you into the kitchen.

your nervousness had melted away after dinner with stephen. he was just so perfect, he was so intently listening to every word you said, it felt like you had an endless amount of things to talk about when you were with stephen, endless laughs. you just loved seeing his wide smile and the way his eyes scrunched up while he looked you at you, just a simple smile was enough to make you squirm. he was just so gorgeous.

he led you into his well furnished living room. family photos, candles, his endless amount of books, his home had such a safe aura that really reminded you of your childhood home. he pulled out monopoly from under his coffee table, you shuddered a bit as his hand brush led against your thigh as he sat up. you really felt embarrassed at the warm feeling something so small and unnoticed gave you. “i wanna be the little shoe!” you yelled as soon as you saw it, picking it up immediately. “geez, okay.” he laughed at your reaction. god you were so beautiful he couldn’t help thinking as he stared a little too long at your face, your shiny hair that just smelled so good, your gorgeous eyes and lips, and he could see the tinniest but of clevage in your shirt but trust me it was enough to make him feel something.

you noticed his staring after a second and it instantly embarrassed you, had you done something stupid? did you have food on ur face??

he leaned in before you could even process it, lifting your chin up with his thumb and index finger before planting a soft kiss against your lips. you thought your head might actually explode, barely processing what had happened before he pulled away. “i’m really sorry i just did that without thinking oh god you can leave if you want i didn’t-“ before he could finish you pulled him back in for another kiss, instantly silencing him, warmth spread through your whole body making you feel a light headed. he snaked his hand around to the back of your neck, lightly slipped his tongue into your mouth begging to taste you as he pulled you flush against his chest, he could feel your tits pressed up against him and he groaned ever so slightly into your mouth at the feeling of his dick throbbing in his pants begging to feel you around him.

your kisses became more intense and passionate gripping his soft hair in your manicured fingers. he started to lean back onto you trapping you between his body and the couch, gently reaching his hand up to rest on your waist. heat pulsed from your core all the way through your body as you felt his bulge press against your stomach, you broke the kiss for only a moment when you started to lift up your shirt discarding it on the ground, leaving you in only your skirt and bra. he reconnected the kiss before starting to run his hand over your stomach and up up up until he reached your boob, gently pulling the fabric down just enough for your breast to pop out.

he broke the kiss again as he started peppering kisses down your neck before he finally reached you exposed breast, gently sucking and kissing at your nipple before tugging the other side of your bra down. “fuck stephen.” you whimper gasping as he nips at your other nipple. “oh i’m sorry i’m sorry did i hurt you?!” he spoke instantly pulling his mouth away from your chest with a guilty look in his face. “no baby.. it felt good” you smiled at his reaction, he sighed in relief before attaching himself back onto your chest, instead focusing on peppering your tits and collarbone with hickeys. he loved seeing you all marked up.. something about it made his dick throb, just knowing he was the one to leave them on your perfect skin.

“could i please touch you? please?” he nearly begged (as if you would ever refuse him) as he started to run his hand down your stomach nearing the waistband of your skirt, toying with the little bow right below your belly button. “of course stephen..” you smiled at the dazed look in his eyes. he kissed you again as he gently slipped his hand into your skirt.. then into your panties. you whimper into his mouth as he brushes a finger against your clit, barely touching it. heat pulsed through your whole body as your felt your tummy flutter, dizzy and fucked out as you started to beg into his mouth for more clawing at his clothed back with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. stephen thought he could actually be dreaming at this point, you were just so so perfect, absolutely made for him in every way. he could cum in his pants just by hearing your small whimpers and the way you beg for him to touch you and the way you writhe underneath his broad body.

“please stephen stop teasing me.. just touch me” he replayed your words in his head as he gave in, slipping a finger down to feel just how wet you are. fucking soaked. slipping his finger into his mouth as he stood up and ripped your panties off, discarding them on the floor just as he had done for the rest of your clothes. he was tired of waiting, he needed to taste you right. now.

as he sat between your legs before he spoke, “can i taste you princess? please” “yeah.. i need it stephen” you said mindlessly, you weren’t lying either, you thought you might cry if he didn’t touch you already. he gently began kissing and sucking marks all over your thighs before wrapping his arms around you thighs to keep you still. he licked a stripe up your pussy, before planting a kiss right on your clit. “fuck stephen!” you moaned out as he started to lick and suck your sensitive clit, rubbing his finger against your tight entrance. he started to rub against the couch trying to seek any relief, he was so hard it hurt. he moaned into your pussy as he continued his assault on your clit gently pushing a finger into your hole. “stephen please stop teasing me i need you.. please.” you begged as you dug your nails into his scalp, pushing his head deeper into your cunt. he didn’t mean to tease you he just loved hearing you beg.. he knows you needed it so he gave it to you, even if he would like to hear you beg all night.

he pushed his finger all the way into your cunt, continuing to suck and kiss your clit. god they were just so much bigger then your own fingers, curling his finger upwards to his that spot that makes you cry out, and oh it did. you couldn’t keep yourself quiet as he added another finger, as soon as he did that you knew you wouldn’t last long, the hand in his hair had become a death grip, unable to hold back your loud moans you felt that familiar feeling come back to you quickly. “stephen.. i’m gonna come” you said in a pained voice as tears welled in your eyes. “oh fuck oh fuck!” your body began to writhe as he continued to pump his fingers in and out quickly, making sure you ride out your orgasm. or at least you thought.. but even as you stilled and the overwhelming pleasure went away it was quickly replaced with pain as he continued even as you had finished your orgasm, “stephen stop it hurts.” you whimpered out, but no. he wouldn’t. he needed you to cum again. “please just one more.. you can do that for me can’t you?” he spoke into your pussy quickly before returning the same pace as before, holding you down as you writhe.

but the pain was slowly dissolved as the pleasure returned, your moans had turned into whimpers and cries as you felt yourself getting close again, fucking music to his ears. ”i’m gonna cum again stephen” you said in a quiet tone just above a whisper, barely able to make any noise other then a whimper. “cmon sweetheart you can do it” he mumbled into your pussy as your second orgasm took over your whole body, all you could think about was the pleasure in between your legs and him.

he licked up your release from his fingers, savouring the taste of *you* on his tongue. he returned above you, placing a deep kiss on your lips as you still recover from your intense orgasm panting and shaking trying to catch your breath. “please stephen i want you inside me” you begged as he smiled against your lips, his painful erection still evident in his pants. “are you sure sweetheart? you still seem like you need some time to recover” he asked in a genuine voice, you can’t get over how sweet this man was in front of you, where has he been all your life? you had never had a man eat you out so well, give you such a mind numbing orgasm. but stephen was a ladies man, always so focused on your happiness, and pleasure.

“please stephen.. i need it” you said as you began unbuttoning his shirt working your was down down down, revealing his skinny and broad frame, and his cute little happy trail that went down to his.. there’s no need to imagine it anymore, you finally get to see it, touch it, feel it, have it. you slipped his shirt off his shoulders, planting kisses on his collarbone and chest, running your tongue over his nipple lightly, stephen sucked in a harsh breath at this a dazed expression on his gorgeous face. their sensitive i’ll remember that. you thought to yourself before making you way down, you undid his belt, then the button on his pants. bulge so evident in his loose pants, the size surprised you just from looking at it through his clothes, he stopped you and pulled his pants down leaving him in just his boxers before sitting back between your legs, you could hardly breath from anticipation.

he rested both your legs to rest against his shoulder, giving him access to finally remove your small pleated skirt. he soaked in the beautiful sight of your fully naked body, from the expression on his face you would’ve thought he was looking at a beautiful piece of art in a museum, you felt slightly embarrassed by his staring but you resisted your urge to cover up. “your so so beautiful. every part of you if just perfect.” he said shyly, you can’t believe he would still avoid eye contact even after giving you the best head of your life but he couldn’t help it.. you made him nervous and he was always so unsure of himself, scared of saying the wrong thing and making you hate him forever.

he started to pull his boxers down feeling bad that he wasn’t fully naked yet, you heart dropped as you saw it.. you’d never ever guess a shy guy like stephen to be so big, it was maybe 7.5 inches? and so so thick. he bashfully stroked it once before returning above you to plant more kisses on your lips and neck, your head was spinning feeling it press against your thigh. it twitched slightly as it touched your leg, he whimpered like a girl feeling his dick pulse. “could i please?” he said this in such a whiny voice, how could you refuse him?

“of course baby go ahead.” you said reaching your hands to touch his stomach as he eased the tip in. a look of pain covered his face, his eyebrows knitting together and his mouth slightly agape. he slides in inch by inch, groaning as he works his way in. the sting sets in immediately, it’s been a while since you’ve had sex, and you’ve never had anyone as big as him.. “fuck your so big stephen” you cry as you claw at his arms that are rested comfortably on the curve of your waist. “i’m so sorry baby i know it hurts, do you want me to stop?” he strokes your hair as he stills inside you waiting for your response. “no no please i just.. take it slow okay?” he nods as he continues to ease in. the look of pain returns to his face as he tried to keep going slow, resisting the urge to push ur legs up to ur ears and fuck you senseless.

he looked so gorgeous like this, his adams apple bobbing slightly and he swallowed. “your so beautiful steve.” you think aloud and a look of surprise then a boyish smile covered his face looking down at where your bodies meet, he’s beautiful? there’s no way you really though that.. no, you were the beautiful one.

“really?” stephen said a bit above a whisper, hardly heard over small pants as he continued to work his way in and out of you. “of course sweet boy.” he whimpered at this small comment his head falling down to the crook of your neck, hands finding a spot to rest along the curves of your body. he continues to thrust into you, taking his time to feel you.

“fuck..-princess” he groaned out speeding up slightly, unable to hold back any longer. digging his fingernails into the dip in your waist, forcefully holding you still. planting open mouth kisses all over your neck, sucking hickeys and leaving gentle bites all over your chest. he rested his hand right down on top of your stomach pushing down slightly. “do you fucking feel that? can you feel me in your stomach?” his dirty talk stung your ears, such an unfamiliar sound coming from stephens mouth.

but oh fuck. yeah you could. whimpers and words of encouragement keep spilling from your mouth, you can’t help but clench around him every single time he moves inside you. “your such a good boy for me, aren’t you steve?” your are babbling at this point, slurring your words, do fucked out you can barely think. but that’s okay, because when your with stephen you don’t have to think. he’ll take care of you.

“yeah-fuck.. y/n” he almost sounds like he’s crying when he says this, fingers finding your clit as he starts going faster, pushing your legs over his shoulders as he pounds you. your legs begin to shake as you hold onto him desperately, that warm ache returning back to your stomach. “steve.-fuck im gonna cum” you cried out into his ear. “can i please please cum inside you princess? please you’ll let me right?” he perks right up as soon as he hears you say this, looking you right in the eyes while he begs.

“i..yeah steve yeah go ahead..” his whimpers turn into cries at this point, his thrusts become sloppy and random, but that feeling in your stomach only becomes stronger, gradually building to your climax.

you can’t help but shake and hold onto steve desperately, legs and arms desperately wrapping around him, needing him as humanly close as possible. you wished you could just merge into one being right now. stephen continues to whimper and cry into your neck as he finally came, a warm feeling floods your inside. feeling so full and content.

a/n: kinda hate this wow.. i haven’t written anything in a long time so i’m sorry if this is bad LOLLL but i hope you enjoyed regardless. lemme know what else you would like to see for stephen glass or any other of hayden christensens characters!

[rhadamanthes]

Mr.Policeman. Sukuna x reader

word count : 1,7 k words

warnings : officer!sukuna, fem reader, slight yandere reader, handcuff, finger sucking, rough sex, mention of baby trapping, creampie.

author's notes : this was inspired after watching a killer's paradox on netflix, i wanted to fuck that detective so bad... enjoy

Crushing the butt of his cigarette on the floor, Sukuna takes a deep breath before entering your apartment. Another call from you, urging him to come during his shift. You entered his life a few months ago, crying at the  police station for a stolen purse. You gave an extensive description of the overpriced bag, and everything that was in it. When he found the culprit a few days later you came running to him, hugging him, thanking him over and over.

He made the mistake of calling you with his personal number. Ever since, there was not a single day where you haven't solicited him. A spider on the wall ? you call him. A sprained ankle? you call him. Can't find your keys ? another call. Every single time he denied you, you would come crying at the station refusing to talk to anyone but him. Sometimes he wonders if you have any self respect.  

Earlier today he recieve a call from you, you sounded really panicked this time, you told him to come over without further reason. He did, when he enters your place, you don't come rushing to him like usual. Something off, he calls your name,  A muffled voice comes from your room. Following the sound, he can't believe what he sees with his own eyes. You're laying on your bed, wearing a lacy nightgown as well as a robe. Your hands are tied up to the steel frame of your bed and you're gagged. What the hell happened this time? He sighs walking to you. Taking a seat on the bed he notices the fear in your eyes. Shit it's for real this time.

"What happened ? are you ok ?" he inquires, freeing your mouth. 

"I'm fine Just a bit shocked, untie my wrists please it hurts" you quietly speak.

Sukuna feels bad, something happened to you and he was reluctant just at the thought of seeing you again. Once you're free, he encourages you to tell him what happened. Grabbing the notepad on the side of his uniform he's ready to take your testimony.

"I have a stalker, he was inside when I got there."

Writing down all the information as you speak, things don't add up. How could you call him? You were gagged when he got here but he heard you loud and clear on the phone. Closing the notebook he stares at you. This is the problem, he thinks, he never knows how to deal with you, what is true what isn't ? You look at him curiously when you notice he's not writing anymore. 

"How could you call me if your wrists and mouth were restrained ?" he starts in a calm voice.

"I-i don't know i don't remember... I did what I can '' you stutters, the tears threaten to fall from your eyes, as you sob on his shoulder holding him tight. 

Shit he is definitely acting like an ass today. He still can' shake the gut feeling he has, this added up to all your interaction since he knows you can't be a coincidence. You have a crush on him, worse an obsession could this be one of your schemes ? He needs to be sure. Separating your bodies, Sukuna holds you by your shoulder planting a sweet kiss on your lips, he waits a few moments but you don't deepen the kiss. When he breaks the contact , your brows are slightly furrowed. Could he be mistaken ?

"Officer, I'm not sure what you're doing" your sweet voice reach his ears, as you run your hands up his arms, squeezing his muscles. 

You little vixen, this is all you desire. He should have known from the second he laid eyes on your stupid pink nightgown.

"You're not ?" he asks, locking his hand in your hair. 

You shake your head left to right, looking at him through your lashes. He's going to ruin you, he doesn't want to be gentle. You made him lose so much time and sanity over the past few months. At the same time he also want to feed in your delusion, be sweet with you like the hero you see in him, to fuck you sensually as he saved you once again. 

"Be kind to me officer, i'm still a bit shaken" you purr laying back on the bed.  

"I have a name sweetheart, say it" he decided to play your game today. 

"Sukuna, please make me feel good." Your voice is itching his brain the right way, maybe he should have folded way before today. You look particularly desirable in your little silk underwear. 

"Should I use this?" he says, grabbing the cuffs you were previously tied with. 

"Hmm I'd prefer if you used yours." you say tracing the police badge on his firm torso

"As you wish" he undresses you revealing your naked body under the gown. Of course you didn't bother wearing anything underneath. He huffs through his nose, you're endearing in your own way that's for sure. He taps your hips telling you to turn around. You dramatically hiss at the impact.

"Come on now" he scoffs

"But i want to see your face please" you beg, grabbing on his shoulders tightly. 

"So demanding, is it because you're still scared? I'm here now, nothing will happen to you" he coos stradling your body.

Your lips met his, Sukuna let you lead, you take your time, exploring his mouth with your tongue.  The kiss is so sweet you might actually make him rot. Feeling your hands fidgeting with his hips he grabs it as a reflex, breaking the kiss. His patrol cuffs are in your hands.

"Why don't you tie us together"  you bat your eyelashes and Sukuna really thinks he went mad  resisting you for so long. 

Taking the cuff from your hand he clicks it on your left wrist, you do the same for his right one. A soft giggle escapes your lips once you're linked to each other, you're looking at him with pure lust now. He wants you too, can't wait to feel your warm pussy around him. He quickly kicks off his boots and gets rid of his trousers. He's about to take off his cap when you stop him. 

"It's hot, keep it on Sukuna please" the way his name rolls off your tongue makes him feel like a brand new man. You're so salacious.  

Granting you your wish he brings his cuffed hand to your lips, dipping two of his fingers in your mouth. You happily suck them in, never breaking eye contact. Your tied hand is wrapped around his wrist, keeping him in place. Once Sukuna feels they're wet enough he brings them to your pussy, rubbing your clit a few times before he curls them inside your wet walls. Your moans fill the room and he can't help but groan at the feeling.

"You don't even need it, you're so soaked" he gritts through his teeth, watching his fingers coated with your arousal, mixing with your saliva. 

Jerking his cock he enters your pussy hungrily in one go. You both moan at the sensation. God you're everything he thought you would be, your pussy is squeezing in a delicious manner while you're splayed on your back eyes closed, mouth open.  Sukuna starts with a slow pace until you beg him to go faster.

"You're such a brave girl taking it all like that" he grunts, snapping his hips harder against yours. 

"You're proud of me ?" you mumble, scratching his back with your free hand. 

"So proud" he can't keep his eyes off your breast as they bounce under each of his powerful thrust.

The more he ruts into you, the louder you get, he's intoxicated looking at his cock going in and out of your sopping cunt. It pussy hugs him perfectly and judging by the way you're moaning he can tell you feel good too.  

Sukuna never considered himself a greedy person but for you he might just become one, lifting your legs up on his shoulders, he thrusts deeper in your cunt. As a reaction, you immediately sink your nails deeper in the skin of his back.

"Oh my god i feel you in my toes" you cry, the tingling sensation on your soles making you drunk on the feeling. 

"Yeah?" 

You can only hum in response, air taken out of your lungs. The bedroom sounds like a mess, your excitement makes wet noises under his powerful thrust. Sukuna moans at the way your cunt wraps perfectly around him.  The bed is creaking under both your weights. You've been dreaming about this for so long you can quickly feel yourself reaching your high, you wish your every desire to be fulfilled.

"Sukuna cum inside me please" you beg searching for his ruby eyes. 

Looking down at you he feels his stomach churn. You look so desirable right now, of course he wants to fill your pussy and watch his semen leak out of you, but you're so shifty could you trap him with a kid ? Feeling his hesitation you usher him closer, begging in his ear one more time. 

His resolution easily dies down as your saccharine voice fills his brain. 

"Shit, i'm going to fill you up" he grunts, pushing your gummy walls again and again to satisfy the both of you.  

With one last thrust, the police officer makes you the happiest woman on earth, tainting your insides with his seed as your pussy squeezes him impossibly tighter with sweet release. His sweating body rests on top of yours as he slowly regains his breath. After a moment, he rolls on the side staring at the ceiling, before he can think about anything, you lay on his chest kissing his bare skin.

"I made us dinner if you're hungry I can heat it up" you purr tracing circles on his torso. 

Not saying a word Sukuna wonders if he's ever going to be able to escape you after this. 

[natailiatulls07]

your charles x sister! reader fics are so cute! i love them so so so so so so much!! i was wondering if you could write one where charles and his teen! sister get in an argument (mostly his fault) and she’s ignoring him and he has to leave for a race before he can apologise and she still supports him but won’t talk to him and him making it up to her eventually pretty please! i love your work so much !!!

Charles Leclerc x Sister!reader

Summary - The request above :3

Warnings - Arguing and swearing

A/n - Thank you lovie! I feel like I haven't done Leclerc Sister fic in a long while so it's great to be back <3

Masterlist

-

Usually the week before a triple header, Charles likes to spend his free time around family. He feels like it gives him that chance to relax and get back into the right mindset. During this time the family would play board games, catch up on favourite tv shows and catch up on life. 

Charles loves this time. With his formula one schedule and Arthur's schedule, it’s not often that the two brothers can hang out with their older brother and younger sister. They all come together to spend this time as they did before he and Arthur started karting.

However this week something was off. Everyone in the family could see how indifferent Charles was acting. It wasn’t like no one knew why, it was pretty clear why he was acting like this. 

From the start of the season, Ferrari wasn’t having a good time. At least once every race, something went wrong. And Charles was getting the shorter end of the stick, he felt like he was getting totally screwed off in every possible way.

He really tried to not let it affect him but this was his career, without this he’d be nothing. So naturally this was going to crush his self-esteem, his confidence and his calmed headspace.

-

'Charles?' Y/n’s voice broke through the quietness of his stream, everyone watching could see how tense Charles was. The chat, which was going unnoticed by the pair, was speeding down the screen with fans welcoming the younger one of the two. 

username my fav leclerc!! username Y/n I love you username hi Y/nnn username the best leclerc is here yayyy

He stayed silent, barely acknowledging Y/n. 'Charles? Maman made dinner, she told me to come get you' Everyone could see how Charles just rolled his eyes and how he grumbled when she wouldn’t leave. 

There was a beat of silence, the only noise filling the room was the occasional sound coming from his game. 'Charles?' Y/n asked again, confused as to why he wasn't replying.

And then, finally he spoke up. 'God Y/n, can you not see?! I’m busy, fuck off!' It wasn’t often that Y/n saw Charles in this light; heck this was the first time his fans were seeing him in this light. It was as if he had forgotten about all of them having front row seats to his interaction with Y/n.

They could all see the annoyance on Y/n’s face, she wasn’t going to back down just because of one fuck off thrown her way. 'What’s up with you?' She snapped back, her mother raised her not to take shit from anyone - Espercially not her brothers. 'Whatever it is, don’t take it out on me cause I did fuck all to piss you off'

Even after her argument, Charles still couldn’t back down. Funnily enough they have the same mother, so this meant they were taught the same exact thing. He wasn’t going to take shit from her either. 'Do you ever consider that maybe, just maybe, that you are the problem? I come home in the middle of an exhausting season, only for you to come and annoy me just like a fucking child.' He pauses the game and turns in his seat, completely forgetting again that he’s on stream. 'Grow the fuck up.'

The chat is practically flying by now, all the comments shouting at Charles for being so rude.

username what the fuck Charles! username better than any reality tv omfg username don't be rude to my fav leclerc like thattt username this isn't Charles, what is going on???

Y/n bursts into a sarcastic laughter, only infuriating her older brother more. 'Haha you’re so fucking funny! Even you, after being the one who helped me come out of your shadow, can make me feel so shit..'

The way she spat out her words scared Charles, he knew he fucked up. Everyone watching the stream could see how his face paled and how, with a deep frown and tears clouding her eyes, Y/n walked out of the room angerily before vigorously slamming the door.

Chat could see a grimace on his face as Charles' face fell in his hands. A deep sigh could be heard through the mic and then the stream turned black. It ended - Understandable.

-

The days following was icy cold in the Leclerc family, everyone but Y/n had been walking on eggshells. Charles felt like shit, he knew about the shadow behind himself and how it really effected the people around him (Espercially his siblings).

He knew he had to leave for the triple header soon but the thing is he has never left on a bad foot with any of his family and espercially for a long time. His anxiety was riding high.

The evening before his flight to spain, he was sat on the sofa at his childhood home with his mother and Alexandra. 'Fuck..I messed up' Infront of him, Leo was rolling around on the carpet.

Pascale just sighed, she was silently agreeing with her son because she had seen first hand the effects of fame had on Lorenzo, Arthur and Y/n. However on the other hand, she knew that it was harder for him - She just wished he handled the argument better.

'Where is she now?' Alexandras soft voice spoke up, her hand relaxing on top of her partners.

Looking over to the clock, the older women answered. 'Her friends place, I think her friendship group are having a little party you know..' That'd explain the almost eerie silence through the house. 'She'll come around, this won't last long.' A chuckle left the older womens lips. 'Never does..'

If only she knew, Pascale would be eating her words.

-

The next couple of weeks were long and hard for Charles. It seemed like everything had been going incredibly wrong for the guy. Almost every race he was finishing outside of points, the days were long and every time he'd message his little sister, he wouldn't get a reply.

You see Y/n was active on social media and Charles could see this, he could see how she was continuing to attend to her usual activities. Going to her University lectures, doing her little side influencer job and hanging out with friends.

He had heard from both his older brother and his mother how they could tell how the argument effected the youngest Leclerc. Much like Charles, this space between them was hard. Yet, she'd watch the races for him and support him. That being some sort of reassurance for Charles.

Luckily for him, he had some time between the end of the triple header at Silverstone and the next race in Hungary so the evening after the race he was on a flight back to Nice.

It didn't take long for Charles and Alexandra to arrive back to Monaco, popping to his childhood home once again. Walking in they could tell that immediately that Pascale wasn't home but then again someone was home, which only meant one person was here.

Placing her bag down on the kitchen counter, Alexandra made her way over to the stairs. 'Y/n are you home?' There was several patters of footsteps above the couple as she made her way to the living room where Charles was sat anxiously waiting. His knee was continuously bouncing up and down before Alexandra's soft hand came rest just over his kneecap. 'You'll be fine..' She whispered gently.

It didn't take long for his baby sister to reveal herself, dressed in her work out gear. Y/n tried her best to hide her anxiety and hesitation, much like her brother she hated the past weeks. 'Salut..' (Hi) She breathed out.

Charles' eye lit up when he saw her, a small smile on his face. 'Hé, où est maman?' (Hey, where's mum?) It was safe to say that small talk wasn't going to be the best thing right now but they both knew it'd help.

He watched her as she moved to sit on the opposite sofa in her usual seat. 'Elle déjeune avec une amie…Marie' (She is having lunch with a friend…Marie) Both the Ferrari driver and his girlfirnd nodded slowly and understandingly.

There was a few seconds of a surprisingly comfortable silence, no one knowing what to say until Charles felt Alexandra sharply nudge him. Looking at her in shock, she quietly urged him to apologize. 'Look I'm sorry princesse..'

Almost giving herself whip lash, Y/n looked up from she was nervously checking her nails. And then there was a moment of quiet again, she didn't know what to say. Part of wanted to be cheeky and the other wanted to be sentimental. Suddenly her lips screwed into a small smirk, and Charles would be lying if it didn't scare him.

'You know it was pretty shitty what you did.' She let out a laugh and the pair followed in suit, Charles nodding knowingly. 'But you're my big brother, you're pretty shitty in general..' He was glad she was joking about, and he allowed her joke about him.

A smile had taken its shape on his face. 'Yeah I know, forgive me?' He asked, needing to satify that last bit of anxiety in him. To which he got a quick nod in return and immediately he was up, pulling her in a long over due hug.

At first it was sweet but immediately ruined when Charles heard Y/n mumble. 'Make me a dedicated instagram post and then I'll forgive you properly..' He just sighed knowingly as a laugh escaped Alexandras lips. Of course he was being blackmailed.

'Fine.' A grumble left his lips. 'You're lucky..'

-

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