#won’t respond until Monday

[keepfight1n]

✌🏼

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Professor, I didn’t cheat.

Summary: reader is a top student at her university. always exceeding in her courses and even taking the liberty to do study groups with other students to help them. Professor Kennedy finds out that the reader and this other student have the same thesis for an upcoming paper. What happens when he confronts y/n after class?

Warning: fem reader. Professor Leon. make out. breast play. creampie. age gap. CONSENTED.

a/n: I HATE my political class. I don’t understand anything😭 I was put in a group full of of guys and I deadass felt so out of place

(pt.1) (pt.2)

You always took notes during his lectures. You always made sure to jot down every single detail, even if it was something that you could search online. Your studies were important to you. You wanted to be the best so you strived for academic success. Many students valued your ambitious character but others were jealous.

Today’s lecture was more of an exam day. You always aced your tests, given that you studied the night before. You were one of the first students to finish their exam. You and the girl next to you finished at the same time and walked up to Leon’s desk to turn it in. You took your backpack with you as you laid the exam flat on his wooden desk. He gave you a curt nod, and then one to the other girl.

You both walked out of the classroom without any issues.

Until Leon emailed you that he wanted to have a private conference with you.

You panicked. What could have possibly have gone wrong? Or maybe he knew of an opportunity that you could take, like a job or a scholarship you should apply. Most professors did that, they helped their best students.

So when you walked to his office Monday morning, your gut feeling sank as you noticed the look on his face. It was a mixture of disappointment and disapproval. He motioned for you to step up to his desk, “Y/n, glad you’re here. Please, take a seat.” He sat down on his desk chair while you took one of the chair in front of his desk.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I called you here,” He began as he shuffled through some papers.

What could have possibly called you for? Nevertheless, you responded, “Yes, Professor, I am.”

He looked at you for a brief moment before laying a piece of paper in front of you. It was your exam, not graded yet, but it was yours. You furrowed your brows in confusion and then looked at him, “This is my exam…what’s wrong with it?”

He cleared his throat and rested his hands on his desk, “Look, I’m going to be straight with you. You’re an excellent student. The best student I’ve had so far.” He began slowly but you felt anxious, where was this going to?

“However, academic integrity is part of the student conduct every student must follow. I cannot grade your exam, y/n.”

It was as if time stopped. Your eyes widened, your heart was beating out of your chest. The silence was deafening, the pit in your stomach dropped heavy. “If you don’t grade this exam, I’ll fail the course,” you replied anxiously, “I can’t afford another class, I’ll have to wait for other scholarship opportunities to help me pay.”

He looked at you with sympathy but that didn’t mean he believed you, “Look, I know it’s stressful but that’s life. You don’t get an easy grade from cheating off a friend.”

“Cheating off a friend? Sir, with all due respect, I am not friends with anyone in the class,” you began to feel defensive. You didn’t know anyone, you only talked to them for projects. The professor raised his eyebrow as he stared at you.

“Someone told me that you copied from them. I won’t name the student since that’s between me and them,” he leaned forward onto the desk, “You’re an exemplary student, it hurts me to say this to you.”

All you could do was stare at him, someone actually wanted to ruin your grade and reputation. While you remained silent, he spoke, “Look, you have amazing grades and your participation has been outstanding. I’ll give you another chance. Retake the exam but it must be in my office.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why should I retake an exam if I didn’t cheat? I guarantee you, I would never lie on an exam. I am aware of the consequences that comes from cheating off of someone.”

Leon sighed and leaned back against his chair, “You’re stubborn, that’s good in a student.” He paused for a few moments, staring at you in silence, almost analyzing you. “Tell you what, I’ll investigate this further, however I still want you to take the exam again. If what you say is true then the retake of the exam will be extra credit for your grade.”

Extra credit? How can you say no to that? You sighed defeatedly and nodded along to his words, “Fine, I’ll retake the exam.”

He smiled softly and gave you a short single nod, “Good, come to my office on Wednesday at 12:30.”

You nod again and stood up to leave his office. His eyes trailed behind your back as you walked away from his office. Now all you had to do was wait for Wednesday so you can retake that exam, but first, should you find the person who accused you of cheating?

Wednesday came and you, lazily, made your way to his office. It was 12:25 as you were walking the halls of offices. The Dean’s office, some other professor’s office and then there was his. With his name plastered in the door in gold, Leon Scott Kennedy.

You knocked three times and heard a soft ‘Come in.’ You stepped into his office, immediately met with the smell of coffee, you forgot how much coffee this man consumed but honestly, who doesn’t consume coffee in college? “I’m here,” you spoke awkwardly as you looked at him. Your breath hitches in your throat as you scan him, he looked strangely hot. His tie was loose, his suit jacket hung on the back of his chair and his sleeves were rolled up. You were to see how toned and muscular his arms were, the watch on his left wrist made his hands look bigger for some reason. His hair was messy but it made him look godly.

“Ah, you’re here, good,” He motioned for you to sit down at the chair in front of his desk. “Take out your laptop, I published the exam for you. It should be there.”

You walked over to the chair and sat down in front of his desk, you pulled your laptop out of your school bag and began to scroll through your student account, “I see it.” You mumbled softly.

“Let me know when you’re ready, you have 90 minutes to complete the exam,” He replied politely. You could tell he was proud that you decided to retake it. With a soft sigh, you nodded and began to work on your exam. You leaned back against the chair as your laptop rested on your lap, you answered one question after another. It was an easy exam, you’ve taken it before.

Leon was watching you attentively, his eyes scanning over your relaxed figure. He noticed the way your hair seemed a little bit messy and how your brows scrunched up together in deep thought. He felt proud because he knew you were an ambitious student, you were everything he wanted in a student. Studious, hardworking, hot- wait a minute, hot?

He quickly looked away and focused on some miscellaneous files, he shouldn’t be thinking about his students. He kept stealing glances at you as you worked on your exam and he couldn’t help but feel hot. His eyes lingering on parts of your body, as if truly seeing you for the first time. He sees you as an attractive woman.

“I finished,” you mumbled softly as you looked up from your laptop, he quickly turned his gaze to his computer to check if you finished it. With a firm nod he responded, “Yeah, I see it. Good job, you got another perfect score.”

Of course you did, you were the smartest in his class. This was easy for you, light work. You closed your laptop and began to pack up but not before he tried to stop you, “Hey, wait- don’t leave yet.”

You looked up from your bag to look at him. He clears his throat and continues, “I still have to put in your grade and we need to talk about the cheating accusation.” You nodded and remained quiet as he kept speaking, “I decided to grade both your exams and use this attempt as your extra credit. You’re a great student and it would be a shame if anything bad were to happen to you that could affect your future.”

Your eyes widened, you couldn’t believe he was being this considerate. Most times when a student s caught cheating, a lawyer gets involved. But he was being nice, too nice even.

“What happened to the investigation?” You asked with furrowed brows. “I decided to drop it. I see that you scored the same on both tries so I guess that means you weren’t lying,” he replied as he maintained eye contact. His foggy blue eyes piercing into your soul. It didn’t help that his appearance made you feel butterflies.

“Actually, I also wanted to talk to you about this scholarship I found. It might be good for you,” His hand motioned for you to come up to him and his computer, you got up from the chair and walked to stand behind him. The screen showed a website of a scholarship due next semester. You heard him talk about the details but all you could focus on was the scent of his cologne. He smelled good albeit his messy look. He turned around in his chair to look at you and your faces were merely centimeters away from each other. You looked down at him and he looked up at you from his chair. It wasn’t on purpose but your gaze fell to his lips. Your gaze switched from his eyes to your lips and you didn’t notice how he slowly brought his hand to your cheek. He cupped your side of your face and brought you down to his face.

It wasn’t meant to happen but you felt your lips against his lips. The moment the two of you joined together as one in a kiss felt surreal. His lips tasted like coffee. His other hand traveled to your waist and pulled you down to his lap. You straddled his hips and gripped on his hair as you two emerged into a passionate and sensual kiss. His tongue brushing against your bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from you as he forced his tongue inside your mouth. The man was old but he knew how to kiss so good. You moaned into the kiss and felt his cock hardened against your clothed core. Causing your panties to grow a wet spot from the arousal. You shifted slightly against his hips, grinding up against his erection. Your kiss turned hot and messy, saliva dripping down as your chest is pressed up against his. His hands traveled down from your waist to your hips, fingers digging at your skin.

He put hind hands on the back of your thighs near your ass and picked you up. He gently laid your back down on his desk, not caring about the files falling to the floor right now. His mouth moved to your neck as he began to nibble and suck on your skin. Red marks terrorizing your sensitive skin as you moaned and gasped. Your hands gripped on the back of his hair as his hands began to travel to the inside of your shirt, touching your stomach and swiftly making their to your breasts. He growled against your skin as he pushed his hand inside your bra and felt the hardened nipple.

“Take it off,” I mumbled against your skin and pulled back. He helped you take off your shirt as you began to unclasp your bra, revealing those beautiful titties to him. Their color only making him water the mouth, he dropped down to one of your breast and began to suck hard on it while his hand manhandled the other. You arched your back as his tongue moved swiftly across areola of your breast. The salivating skin coating your breast as his teeth grazed your nipple. Your moans and whimpers escaping your mouth as he destroyed your breasts with his mouth and hand. You felt good.

He pulled back from your chest and looked down at the marvelous sight before him. He leaned down to kiss you again before softly whispering against your lips, “Let me know if you want to stop.”

You nodded your head and watched as his hands traveled down to his trousers and began to unbuckle his belt and buttons. He pulled his pants down to his thighs and pulled down on his boxers. His erection jumping from the enclosed space, hitting his abdomen with a thwack as precum had been leaking. He was large, the tip a rosy tone of pink with a vein protruding from the side, his cock leaned to his left and you could swear you saw it twitch. It was a spectacular sight. His hands quickly went down to take off your pants, pulling them to your ankles before taking them off completely. His noticed the wet spot in your panties from your presumably wet cunt.

His index finger pressed down against the fabric covering your clit, the slick of your folds seeping through the fabric as you shut your eyes tightly and moaned quietly. He smirked and began to circled your clit through your panties, he wasn’t aware you were into this but he obliged.

Just as you were near your orgasm, he pulled his finger back and pulled your panties down towards the floor along with your pants. He stood in between your legs and aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance, “I wish I had the time to prepare you but I’ve got a meeting after this,” he mumbled as he pushed himself into you, not giving you time to respond as your mouth became full of moans.

He made sure to fill up with his cock until his balls made contact with your ass, your jaw fell slack as you rolled your head back against his desk. Leon slowly began to thrust in and out, not fully pulling out, he was kind enough to let you adjust to his size.

Once he was sure you were doing good, he began to thrust into you. Pulling out and pushing back in with force, causing the desk to grind against the floor. He leaned down and put his hands on either side of your head. Your hands traveled to his hair and back, clawing your nails through his shirt.

The sound of skin clapping and the smell of sweat and sex covered the room. The air felt humid as both of your breaths became heavy and labored. You felt his tip touch your cervix, sending a wave of pleasure over you through a whimper. He kept thrusting, making sure to hit your g-spot and cervix. He may not have fingered you but he was still a gentleman, he wanted to make sure you enjoyed this just as much.

Your moans began to cut short as your breathing increasing, you arched your back and felt the band in your lower stomach stretching to a snap. And soon enough, your pussy clenched around his cock. Your orgasm milking and pulsating as he thrusted in you while you were experiencing your high. You closed your eyes and the darkness was clouded with stars.

His own thrusts faltered a little bit as he felt you clench and pulsate around his member and without a second thought he couldn’t contain his own cum from spilling inside you. His hot and thick juices shooting into your womb as he slammed his cock into your cunt for one last time. He kept himself buried inside you as he tried to catch his breath. Both of you panting and sweaty.

He slowly pulled out of you and watched as his cum dropped down from your cunt to his desk, the sight making his cock throb again but he couldn’t indulge himself for a second round as he had a meeting to attend. He helped you clean yourself up with some tissues he had and handed you your clothes from the floor. You both began to dress yourselves as the aftermath of what you two had done began to settle into your heads. He looked at you with a smirk and kissed your cheek, his stubble grazing your skin.

“I’ve got to now, sweetheart,” he whispered as his hand cupped your cheek like he did previously. “You should let me take you to dinner some time.”

You could only nod as you were still feeling dumb from the sex, “Yeah…”

He chuckled and pressed a light kiss on your lips before leaving you in his office.

Who knew a professor could fuck so good?

[princessbrunette]

kinktober : oct 5th

könig x cumming in panties

he’d cornered you when he knew you couldn’t bring yourself to run from him. könig was sick like that.

he’d been depriving you all week. you weren’t too sure on the why, but you figured he was punishing you for something. or maybe he wasn’t, maybe könig had just wanted to toy with you, get you all desperate just for his own twisted entertainment.

on monday, he’d had you speared on his cock— but not allowed to move, and overall not allowed to cum, removing you from his lap when he was finished with his work at the desk and never revisiting, leaving you empty and needy whilst he beats off in the shower. tuesday he’d insisted on teaching you self defensive moves, pinning you with your knees up and dragging his heavy bulge over your puffy slit through your leggings until you’d soaked through the material, and then getting up like it had never happened and even having the audacity to berate you for being distracted.

wednesday, he’d forced his way into your shower and you thought you’d finally get some relief— instead he’d crowded you against the cold tiles, ran his hands over your body greedily, fondled you and kissed you enough to get you whiny — before pulling away, continuing on with his shower as you stand pressed to the tiles panting in disbelief, and climbing out alone. thursday, he’d ignored you completely — which only made you want him and his approval more. it had reached friday, and you were at your breaking point. not only had you reached physical desperation, but you felt emotionally needy and fragile beyond belief too, breath hitching in your throat when you spotted him by the gymnasium on base.

when he spotted you wandering over, his eyes lit up through his hood and he smiled. he smiled and you thought thank god, it’s over. your knees are weak and trembling by the time you reach him, hands clutching his black military issued shirt. “kö,” it comes out as a sweet whine. he tilts his head, hulking frame looming over you as he cups your cheeks gently.

“hmm?” he hums lovingly and you inhale shakily, your own hand laying over his.

“its aching— need you, please. have twenty minutes until my meeting n’i won’t be able to focus.” you press yourself to him, all but begging with tears in your eyes.

“t’aww, schatz.” he whispers hoarsely, taking your waist and walking you backwards into a hallway that no one ever seems to go down. “i can give you something, yes?” he cooes and you nod so furiously you think your head might come off.

he crowds you to a wall, so that if anyone was to enter the hallway, their vision would be obstructed by his giant frame anyway. you don’t know how he’s done it, but he pulls out his cock and it’s already fully hard, thick and pretty in his grasp. he stands with his legs spread wider to lower himself a little, the height difference almost obscene and he runs a thumb over his tip, full balls resting on the waistband of his cargos. you whimper, just from the sight of it.

a low hum leaves his throat and he lets his tip graze your stomach, dragging lazily across the material of your shirt, smearing the slightest bit of precum onto it. “please.” you whisper, teary eyes searching for permission. he tsks, and pulls your skirt up to sit around your waist, gently but slightly impatiently tapping your inner thigh so that you’ll stop pressing them together tightly.

“you missed me, little one?” he questions, pressing his tip harshly over your pantie-covered clit, rubbing it in circles making you buckle.

“mhm, missed you a lot.” your hips jerk off the wall, humping back against his tip. each time you squirm, you can hear the obscene wetness in your panties making you whine in embarrassment. he chuckles harshly, pulling back.

“poor thing.” he responds cooly, accent thick and low. he pulls down the waist band of your panties and stuffs his cock inside making you grip at his clothes so that you don’t totally collapse. gripping your hips, he begins to slowly thrust. the height difference is a slight hinderance, and he’s hunched over you, but once he gets the angle right you’re whimpering helplessly, his cock sliding back and forth over your soaked slit and never once inside.

he has the audacity to laugh, strong arm bracing the wall beside your head as he leans over you, his hood tickling your cheek. “what if someone were to come down this hall, hmm? see my cock stuffed in your little panties. that pussy all needy for the colonel. you would probably like that, yes? you like to show off.” your brain was hazy but the last part rung an alarm in your head. was that what this was about? was he still punishing you?

“just wanna— wanna cum!” you cry, and you’re not aware of the mascara pooling beneath your eyes until he harshly wipes the tears with his fingers and pulls away. you groan, devastated, bleary eyes watching him rub the wetness from your tears against his own shaft. he grabs your wrist, roughly and maybe a little desperately and guides your hand to pull your waistband down a little more, exposing your needy cunt to him.

“hold this. like this.” he sneers and you do, not having the capacity to question him let alone argue. he stops touching you completely, focused on fisting at his own cock, tip aimed down your panties and you sniffle, staring up at him pitifully. you longed to touch him, have him praise you, kiss you — but all he did was stare down his nose at you with his hood still firmly in place as he jerked himself off.

your pleas and wobbling bottom lip only seemed to push him further, and soon — he was cursing, pressing you to the wall with his weight and unloading his balls into your thin delicate panties. you whimper sensitively, looking down at the way his hot seed seeps into the baby pink panties. your brain is mush by this point, and you stare up at him obediently, albeit sadly.

he recovers, jagged pants leaving him as he stands back up to his full height, tucking himself back into his pants. he takes the material of your panties and pulls them firmly back up, his cum pressing against your folds. his big warm hand comes up, rubbing you over your panties to make sure his cum has spread around and you moan at the touch, but as soon as it came it leaves— the hand grabbing your jaw for a moment and looking at you before he steps back, eyeing you with his hands now clasped behind his back. he watches you fumble to adjust your clothes and pull your skirt down, hands and thighs shaking.

“keep that in there all of today. i will come to visit you later on.” with that, he coldly steps aside. oh, he was mean. “off to your meeting. cannot be late now, liebling.”

[webslingingslasher]

Unknown Sender

happy valentine's day!

MONDAY: 13:52 

‘hi.’ Peter squints at the message, then the unsaved number. He's not sure how, but it’s a scam. 

‘i’d like to have your attention, please.’ Peter rolls his eyes, swiping left to not only delete but report the number as junk. No doubt it was a bot or someone with a flair for sextortion. 

A new number. ‘that was actually so rude of you, parker.’ 

‘unblock me right now.’ 

Peter shifts in his seat, he does a slow look around the room and finds nothing off putting or alarming. 

‘Who is this?’ 

Green bubbles pop up. ‘unblock me and i’ll tell you.’ Peter was right to guess about extortion. Another swipe, blocked and reported. Peter wasn’t participating in any games. 

A new number. ‘oh, now you’re just being cute.’ 

Peter feels his heart pick up a bit, it’s a tad threatening and now he’s overthinking it a little. What if someone has it out for him? Is there a mark on his back? ‘Please leave me alone.’ 

‘no.’ 

‘can we play 21 questions?’ 

Peter’s face scrunches up, he spins his head around one more time, someone is fucking with him. He has no clue who has time for something like that in university, but he’s not a willing participant anymore, not since high school. 

‘Leave me alone. Go torment a freshman.’ 

‘i don’t like freshmen. i like you.’ Peter chews at his bottom lip, there was a second of hesitancy but he knows the truth deep down. ‘I’m blocking you.’ 

‘sure. i’ll keep texting you, too.’ 

‘I’ll change my number.’ 

‘noooo please don’t do that. i had to work hard enough to get it the first time.’ Peter doesn’t respond. He blocks the number and moves on, and they don’t try to text him again.

Until the next day and Peter knows two things for certain. There is a note in his backpack, and it wasn’t there before his econ lecture. He remembers pulling that pocket open before he started notes, then when he went to zip it up, a note. 

This upsets him. What good was any sense when someone could get that unnoticeably close to him without him knowing? Second, it’s a little frustrating not to know who this person is and how it most likely is connected to the texts he had a few days ago, and that it’s an extremely long played joke that’s mostly boring. 

‘Peter Parker- 

You’ve been secretly admired. It might not be very secret, because I think you’ve caught me staring at you a thousand times. I like you a lot. 

Hopefully liked back, 

-X’ 

But a part of him believes it’s true. He’s trying to think of who’s in his lecture, if he’s caught them staring then they’re either to the side or behind him. There are too many faces, too many times he’s been looked at, he’s almost centered, it’s his fault for choosing a focal point. 

Instead of throwing it away, he refolds the pink handwriting and puts it back into place before hitching a strap over his shoulder and sliding behind chairs. One, two steps up he glances at your face, you have a weak smile, he returns the same kind, it’s more like a polite nod. Peter’s always thought you were pretty and he thinks you're nice. 

But really, he’s wondering who left the note. 

10:30

‘did you get my note?’ Peter does his normal scan across campus, again, his fault for being out in the open. This person could be anywhere, he’s on a picnic bench with a group of friends. If he’s smart, he’d start limiting himself to contained spaces and make you show yourself. 

‘Yeah. Who is this?’ Peter’s thumbs dance around the screen waiting for a reply, it comes quick. ‘i told you. x.’ He stops himself from rolling his eyes, he doesn’t know anyone with an ‘X’ anywhere in their name. 

‘Is that an initial?’ 

‘actually, i’m pretty sure it’s british for kiss.’ 

‘That’s a wild take. Are you saying the UK is responsible for XOXO’s?’ 

‘i’d like to make you responsible for my xoxo’s.’ Peter chews his bottom lip, he won’t play into anything in writing. He doesn’t believe this for a second, everything about this feels off. Someone’s fucking with him and they’re also in his class, or they have someone in on it in his class. 

But this is too advanced.

‘sorry. i don’t mean to like harass you or anything. you’re really hot but you scare me, i don’t think you would like me so idk, maybe if you talk to me you’d like me for me or something.’ 

‘i just think i’m punching wayyyy above my weight class here and i may be making this worse because there is no doubt you think im weird.’ 

‘i am weird. i should leave you alone now. i’m sorry.’ 

Peter reads his screen four times, it’s still not clicking. He’s nothing special and he doesn’t mean that in a way to dog on himself, he’s just nerdy and quiet. It seems a little too authentic to be fake, but he’s got to make sure. 

‘How’d you get my number?’ 

‘your friend. they have been sworn to secrecy but they know what i’m doing and they are in full support. take that as you will.’ 

‘Depends on the friend.’ 

‘i’ll tell you when you find out who i am.’ 

‘I’m going to find out? You’re not going to tell me?’ 

‘i don’t think i’ve been hiding it. you just haven’t been paying attention and now i want you to.’ 

‘Oh, but you’re shy?’ 

‘i’m about to pass out on the lawn behind this fucking screen, don’t play with me parker.’ A slip, you’re around him and you just admitted it. ‘Tell me, admirer, what are you wearing?’ The more detail the better, but he could work off of just a color. 

‘nice try. but you’re looking mighty handsome in the blue.’ A glance down, he suddenly feels watched. ‘Are you stalking me?’ 

‘oh no! no no no. i PROMISE you i’m not that fucking psychotic.’

‘i’m just a “sneak a note into your backpack” level of crazy. i’m here with my roommate and her boyfriend. i saw you and just wanted to know if you got it, i promise.’ 

‘You do understand that this situation makes you seem psychotic, right?’ 

‘yes. but i am not.’ 

‘That sounds like something a crazy person who got my number from a third party would say. Especially after I blocked you six times.’ 

‘it was three and you didn’t understand my intentions but okay. you have a fair point and i extend the olive branch of brett. he gave me your number and he knows me pretty well.’ 

Brett? Easy enough, he nods his head towards him and slides his phone across the table. “Explain.” His friend scrolls through the thread, a trustworthy smile spreads. “Yeah, I gave her your number.” Her. Okay, it’s something. “Who is she?” Brett shrugs, “you know her. She’s kind of a firecracker, you just make her nervous.” 

“That gives me nothing, Brett.” His friend blinks, “she’s not crazy. She likes you a lot for whatever fucking reason and has no idea how to approach you.” Peter’s letting his words soak in, “don’t believe me? Ask her about the grilled cheese, and make sure you tell her that I told you about how she went on for five fucking minutes about the grilled cheese.” 

“What grilled cheese?” Brett slides Peter’s phone back, he’s telling him to ask you. Something tells Peter it’s enough to embarrass, or it might be Brett being the ultimate wingman.

‘I’ve been told to ask you about the grilled cheese.’ 

‘oh god. there is no need to ask about the grilled cheese, did brett tell you about the grilled cheese?’ 

‘He told me to ask you. And to specify that you went on for five minutes about it.’ 

‘five is excessive, it was more like three. second, there is nothing to speak about.’ 

‘I would like to hear about it.’ 

‘i’d prefer if you didn’t.’ 

‘But you’ll do it for me?’ 

‘i’m weak for you and you know it. it’s sicking, parker.’ 

‘i heard you talking about making one in class and you said something about the crust and i really fucking love grilled cheese’s so i had a trip to fantasy land where you made me one and how it’s probably the best thing i’ll never get to taste.’ 

‘Wow. Five whole minutes on that?’ Peter won’t admit it made him feel a little warm on the inside, the most mundane of things to have someone so squirrely makes him feel unworthy. 

‘three.’ 

‘Tell me who you are and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.’ 

‘you have no idea how much that almost worked.’ 

‘What’s the plan then, master manipulator?’ 

‘i don’t know yet. i’m hoping you show me how smart you are and figure me out, then you can do all the hard questions.’ 

‘Hard questions?’ 

‘you know, do you wanna go on a date, do you wanna be my girlfriend, do you want to take my hand in marriage and have a summer home in the french alps? that kind of stuff.’ 

‘Totally not psychotic.’ Peter tucks his bottom lip between his teeth to hide the smile that wants to spread. 

‘mostly not.’ 

WEDNESDAY: 13:57

Peter doesn’t know who X is, but they’re clever and have zero effect on his sixth sense. He doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he’s reading a note scribbled in blue pen and as he studies the words he knows it was rushed. It’s proof that he wasn’t being followed everywhere, instead you saw an empty table and an opportunity. 

‘Peter- 

You use mostly gender neutral pronouns. I think that’s very cool. Is it weird that I notice those things about you? Also- what is it that you’re always drinking from Nuthouse? Asking for a friend… 

Have a good day! 

-Your not so secret admirer, X. 

‘Not so secret,’ Peter isn’t sure about that. You’ve done a good enough job at not trying to be obviously known, he might have looked up your number last night to find dust. One was from an app, but the one you’ve been using is a burner phone. 

What he’s really not understanding is how you’re able to get so close to him without him noticing. You had to have been millimeters away when you rested the letter on his backpack, he was gone for less than two minutes and he had zero awareness. 

Peter folds up the note and sticks it in the same pocket as the other one, his back slung around one shoulder as he moves up the stairs for the library. At the same time, you come down the opposite side, Peter gives a friendly acknowledgement. 

You choke down the lump in your throat. “Hi, Peter.” He’s already past you, it’s echoed behind his shoulder. “Hey.” It’s something. You’re trying, you’re trying to be bold for him. But he’s not going to notice, he’s never going to notice you and if you tell him who you are you’ll never live past his disappointment. 

Your phone vibrates, the other phone. Your heart picks up, Peter texted first. 

 14:02 

‘Dirty chai.’ 

‘best of both worlds. how fitting. you’re such a nonconforming king.’ 

‘I don’t even know what that means.’ 

‘But thank you?’ 

‘you’re welcome!’ 

‘anything fun on the roster today?’ 

‘Roster? Who are you?’ 

‘idk you make me nervous. blame yourself.’ 

‘Well, coach. Nothing fun on the roster, just some math. Wanna swap places with me?’ 

‘gross. i hate math so if you like it that’s good with me. one of us has to be smart and it’s not me.’

‘Smart enough to use a burner phone.’ 

‘oooooh, someone tried to find meeee.’ 

‘Can’t blame a guy for being curious, can you?’ 

‘were you disappointed when you found nothing?’ 

‘A little bit. But, you know, it keeps the imagination alive. A little unfair advantage on your side though, you already know what I look like.’ 

‘if it helps, you already know what i look like too.’ 

‘I do?’ 

‘yeah. we’ve talked before.’ 

‘Wait, so I know who you are?’ Brett said he did but Peter thought he meant you’d be familiar, not that he actually knew you. This just opened the floodgates to a million more possibilities. 

‘not really but yeah i guess. you know i exist but we’re not friends or anything.’ 

‘I’d like to think we’re friends, but okay.’ 

‘not outside the texting.’ 

‘That’s your decision.’ 

‘HATER.’ 

‘Anymore hints?’ 

‘.... no.’ 

‘HATER.’ 

FRIDAY: 12:15

You’re about to spill hot tea everywhere but it’ll be worth it to see his face. You ignore your pounding heart and stand in front of him. He’s got no clue you showed up, zoned out looking at the clock on the wall across from him. 

“Hi, Peter.” 

Full frontal attention, he’s looking at you. He’s perceiving you, he’s smiling at you. “Hi,” your eyes expand, he knows your name and it sounds so nice coming from his mouth. Sure, you’ve chatted with each other- even shared a few highlighters, but nothing serious. You’ve always been too scared to try anything else but maybe your fear has been mistaken for indifference. 

“I um, I lucked out today at Nuthouse so if you like dirty chai’s I got an extra one.” Your knees feel weak at his bright eyes, “my favorite. I’d love one, thank you.” You pass over the paper cup, your fingers brush and you think you’re about to collapse. 

“Yeah,” a weak laugh. “I had a feeling.” Peter tilts his head at you funny, you wonder if you pushed a little too far. “Okay, um, I’m gonna… have a good… lecture.” Peter nods and watches you go two rows up, he’s finally got a gut feeling. And it tells him to keep an eye out for you. 

TUESDAY: 12:10

Not that Peter was reliant on your attention, he was used to it. So when the texts stopped for three days and he was unable to find any letters he assumed you had lost interest and moved on. That felt fair to him, no harm no foul, at least he never really got to know you. 

Nevermind, there’s a folded notebook page on his miniature desk and his heart speeds up. His next task, put eyes on you. Bottom level, book and pencil in hand. He makes sure to note it’s a pencil and not the green ink that’s spread across the page. 

Peter thinks it’s a mind game, you were smart enough to know he’d look. Unless he was totally wrong on his guess. 

‘Peter- 

I ran out of minutes on my phone and I’m having a broke college kid moment. However, a friend took pity and donated a twenty to the campaign. I hope you’ve been good- I’ve missed talking to you. 

- Your not so secret admirer, X’ 

ps. stop keeping your backpack so close to you.’

It wasn’t anything personal, you just ran out of minutes. Peter smiles so wide he has to drop it, he almost clutches the paper to his chest in a thank you. Eyeing his backpack, he nudges it a little further behind him, following instruction. He’s kept it close in hopes to catch you, but instead he’s pushing you away. 

Peter’s committing the writing to memory as if he’s going to find you by the handwriting alone. A quick glance at footsteps, you’re three steps away when you smile. “Hi, Peter.” He nods, “hey.” You pause for a moment, mind racing for words. 

“Did you, um- did you do anything fun this weekend?” You’re about to crawl into a hole and die, it takes a moment to click that you were speaking to him. He went as far to look behind himself, then he spewed the answer to try and make up for the lost time. 

“Oh, uh not really. My aunt got a new bed so I had to lug the old one down seven flights of stairs.” Your eyes widen, you feel your mouth go dry and your tongue go thick. “By yourself?” Peter crosses his arms over his chest, a boyish grin swept over and you feel heart eyes form. 

“I’m a good nephew.” You want to pat his head and tell him you’re sure he is, then maybe hold him at gunpoint and tell you more stories about how he’s a perfect humanitarian. But you act like a normal human and smile back, “you sound like it.” 

Peter thanks you and you return to your seat with wobbly knees and a weak stomach, it’s silent torture to tease yourself like this with him. But you can’t help it and it’s only in effort to go after what you want. Even if it blows up when he figures out who you are. 

12:13

‘you’re looking mighty handsome today, mr. parker.’ 

‘I’m wearing a hoodie, but thank you.’ 

‘i said what i said.’ 

Boldly, ‘i see someone had another dirty chai. can’t stay away from them, can you?’ 

Another tick in Peter's stomach, he almost looks behind his shoulder at you, but he doesn’t. ‘It was a generous donation from a classmate.’ 

‘oh? pray tell, peter. pray tell.’ 

‘What? You don’t have a clue about who gave it to me?’ 

You swallow thickly, before you could get something out he sent another message. ‘No chance you didn’t see it go down?’ 

‘how could i? I was still on my way.’ 

‘... or was i?’ 

‘Tell you what, X. It one of the best teas I’ve had in a while.’ 

And you’d be damned if that didn’t make your entire chest flutter. 

FRIDAY: 15:29

“Here,” Peter’s hand clasped over the paper slapped into his chest. A hint of a syllable, Brett cuts himself off. “She asked me to give this to you.” Peter quickly read it and stared down before confiding in his friend for a second. 

‘Peter- 

Roses are red, violets are blue, all that I think about is you. 

It’s sweet in a cringy way, right? Boo on you for skipping class today, if you want, I could get you some notes. 

I hope I’ll see you Tuesday. 

-Your (really) not so secret admirer, X

ps. A pen exploded in my pocket. 10/10 chance my thigh will be stained.’

“I think I might know who it is.” 

“Uh, huh.” 

“But, she’s way out of my league.” 

“Correct.” 

Peter raised his eyebrows, “so it’s her?” He clarified with your name, Brett shrugged back. 

“I won��t be confirming or denying.” Peter knows what that means, “the lack of a no usually means yes.” 

“Bro,” Peter starts sputtering, “oh, c’mon! You know what I meant, I just meant that, I just- c’mon, Brett. Is it her?” 

“I have no idea who that is.” Peter wants to call bullshit, he has a gut feeling and he swears it’s you. You’re right, it’s not so secret. In fact, you’re painfully obvious. 

FRIDAY: 23:14 

‘you are soooooooo cute’ 

‘like your hair is so cute’ 

‘i looooove curly hair on guys and you have that!!!!!!!!!’ 

‘and you’re really funny cause like it’s so quick and witty like you have such good one liners’ 

‘also you’re really fucking hot and i KNOW you’re hiding something under those fucking sweaters and the second i see skin i WILL go feral.’ 

‘Something tells me you’re at the Kappa party.’ Peter’s pretending he doesn’t have a searing blush. If he’s got an inkling this could be you… then he might have proof for the non-believers that god exists. 

‘yes!!! are you here?? i should come see you.’ 

‘I hate to disappoint you, but I’m currently at a friend's house playing a Mario Kart drinking game.’ 

“But it’s nice to know that you’d give me your identity that quick.’ 

‘oh i can tell you who i am.’ Peter frowns at the text, he’s been doing nothing but crave the answer to who’s behind the love letters but it feels wrong. It’s not satisfactory enough for him, it’s also not what you want, you’re just drunk- and Peter’s going out on a limb here- horny. 

‘Save it for later.’ 

‘And maybe drink some water.’ 

‘i’d do anything for you cause you have the world's prettiest brown eyes’

‘Thank you for the compliments.’ 

‘you’re super welcome i try to hold them back because i’m a good girl but you’re just so cute i had to let you know’ 

‘I think you’re going to super regret this in the morning.’ 

‘false. maybe fact idk’

‘i should trust you tho because you’re super smart and you’re a nerd.’ 

‘I fear this is taking a turn for the worse.’ 

‘and that is so fucking HOT’

‘Oh. Back to compliments. Thank you.’ 

‘if you were here i’d give you a kiss’

‘IGNORE THAT!!!!’

‘I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT!!!! IGNORE IT’ 

‘Not ignored. How cute.’ 

‘screaming crying throwing up’ 

‘i really didn’t mean to send that it was a joke ha ha funny.’ 

‘Idk, sounded authentic to me.’ 

‘peter?’ 

‘Yeah?’ 

‘i’m a little drunk rn. and you should know how cute you are.’ 

‘Oh, I’m talking about record breaking levels of regret. This is amazing.’ 

‘i have to pee but i do not reget this!!!!!!’ 

SATURDAY: 09:54

‘i stand by my claim and do not regret a thing.’ 

‘correction. i regret this hangover and the way my previous texts are not very cool girl of me.’ 

‘but i would like to know if you won mario last night.’

‘also, who’s ur fav character?’ 

11:12

1. Proud of you for owning it, that’s very cool girl of you. 

2. I did not win. 

3. Petey Piranha. 

‘who tf is petey piranha.’

‘Mario Kart Sunshine. Came out in 2002. (Originally on GameCube but recently released on switch.) (Hell yeah.)’ 

Your heart thumps, he’s such a nerd and you wanna kiss the air out of his lungs. ‘out of all the characters and u choose him. why petey piranha’ 

‘One guess.’ 

‘PETEY PIRANHA.’ 

‘OH MY GOD.’ 

‘you’re petey piranha <333’ 

Peter fights a grin, ‘I am.’ 

‘you’re so cute. i love that.’ 

‘Personally, in the past 24 hours I don’t think I’ve heard enough about how cute I am.’

‘you’re insufferable and it’s sexy.’ 

‘Oo, new one to the mix. You’re making me blush.’ You really are. He’s never been considered sexy before and it feels really nice. 

‘and i bet you look super cute.’ 

‘Super true.’ 

TUESDAY: 12:34

‘white t shirt white t shirt white t shirt WHITE T SHIRT.’ 

‘You like?’ 

‘i’m about to cry i’m biting my fist so fucking hard.’ 

‘:)’ 

‘you���re so ubuibabeyia.’ 

‘Bless you.’ 

‘?’ 

‘Sorry, I assumed you sneezed.’ Peter never whipped his head around so fast at an audible laugh behind him. It was short, it had escaped without being thought about. He’s looking for you, but it doesn’t seem like it was you who laughed. You’re engrossed in chatting to your neighbor. 

On the other hand, you almost blew it by clasping your hands over your mouth. Instead you looked next to you and said, directly and with a burning gaze, “I need you to pretend we’ve been talking this whole time.” 

‘Someone’s losing their edge, you’re just begging to be caught.’ 

‘oh, i’m begging all right.’ 

‘can you hear me whimpering too?’ 

‘Easy, killer. Let’s not start sexting at noon on a Tuesday.’ 

‘are you saying there is a time for it?’ 

‘Give me a little wave and we’ll see.’ 

‘too late, i’m passed out on the floor. the only thing that can resuscitate me are those thick arms wrapped around me.’ 

‘Let these strong arms sweep you off your feet, all you gotta do is come talk to me after lecture…’ 

Peter says that, but he doesn’t mean it. He’ll definitely eat his words when he sees it’s you, then he’d be coming up with a thousand ways to back out of it. He’s so much more than you deserve, you feel so safe behind a keyboard but in person you can barely say a sentence. 

It’s stupid and a little humbling because you’ve never felt this way about a guy before. 

‘trust me, i’m better in your imagination.’ 

WEDNESDAY: 14:22

‘Peter- 

You know a little about a lot and I think that is one of my favorite things about you. Or maybe it’s your voice. I could listen to you talk forever. 

-Your not so secret admirer, X’ 

A note under his textbook, if he follows his hunch then he’d be looking for… you. Conveniently three tables away and to the right of his own, you’re not looking for his reaction, you’ve got your focus on your own textbook but he swears you’re retaining none of it. It’s a distraction, or maybe it’s a diversion. 

Peter doesn’t mind. He’s going to wait. He has all the time in the world today and he’s going to sit here with his eyes on you until you look up at him because he knows you’re going to and once you do, he’s going to have his answer. 

If he’s right, and he swears he is, he’s going to absolutely lose is shit because what do you mean you like him and are intimidated? You boldly lied when you said you were punching above your weight class. Does it make him a jerk to say he wasn’t even thinking of you as a suitor and maybe a girl with a much more average look?

 Peter counted to sixty twice, you glance up, eyes shooting to the note you left on the table. The next stop, Peter’s face. And oh, you were not prepared to have him looking right back. Panic, you shoot a wave, a desperate attempt to pretend you’re seeing a familiar face. 

Peter waves back but he looks much more satisfied than you did, you wonder if the jig is up. Did he crack the code? Was he just trying to find a friendly way to let you down? Deny til death, he has no proof it’s you. You pack your things up, a hurried scramble before you could lose your cool. 

On the way out you almost stop breathing, your forearm caught in Peter’s hand. You’re staring down at it, he’s not removing it. It burns in the best way. “Hey,” you wait, you can’t stop looking at his hand, the muscle, the subtle flex, his fingertips paler to show his grip. “Hi, Peter.” 

It’s breathless, you think you’re about to die. If he asks, you don’t know how you’ll lie your way out. 

Guess who’s got a stained pocket? The corner edge darkened with black ink that would never be washed out. Peter has his answer. You’re her. You’re X. “Thanks again for the tea.” 

 Maybe you wanted more, you feel a bit deflated when it’s all you receive.

“You’re welcome.” Your arm feels cold when he drops his touch, you linger for a second too long, you’re not sure when you’ll be this brave again. It was too much of a close call. “I hope the rest of your day is good.” 

Peter’s got a charismatic grin, he feels settled now that he knows you’re the anonymous lover in his life. Even more so when you find yourself shy and reserved in person, it almost makes him giggle to think of the stark changes in confidence.

“You too.” Your body engulfs into flames when your arm is caught again, you’re struggling to keep calm at his boyish smile. “Quick question,” you nod slightly, trying to show zero paranoia for the following words. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Short circuiting. You see black spots, you think you’re about to pass out. There is only one thing that means, no guy asks that if they weren’t interested in changing that, right? 

“No.” It’s anything but graceful. It sounds like you’ve never had a boyfriend before. It makes you sound like you’re scared he asked it. 

But, Peter doesn’t take it like that. He smiles wider, like he already knew the answer before he asked it.

THURSDAY: 16:37

A new letter, stuffed under the top handle of his backpack. Peter listened and stopped setting it next to him, in return he was rewarded. He can’t stop the small smile, you make it involuntary at this point. Peter’s never felt so special in his life, a little part of him wants this to never end. But he’d much rather look you in the eyes. 

‘Peter- 

I had a dream with you in it last night. Don’t worry, you had your clothes on. I’m not sure what we were doing but you were across from me at a diner and we were sitting in those super thick booths and our friends were there. 

I don’t know who these friends were, and I don’t think you do either. But I knew them as our friends. 

It felt really nice. I’m happy to know you, even if I just get this little piece. 

-Your not so secret admirer, X’

Peter’s been wrong a lot in his life but this time he really thinks he has it figured out. He’s much more bold now, this letter tells him it’s not infatuation, it’s love. 

You love him and he thinks he could love you too. 

FRIDAY: 20:08

‘Hey.’ Peter could be making the worst decision of his life here, he could be reading everything wrong and ruining this for himself. 

‘hi peter!’ But he really thinks he’s got it right.  

‘I really, really liked talking to you for the past few weeks but I think I should tell you that I like someone else.’ 

Gut wrenching despair. You knew it was too good to last, you knew he’d find someone more in his league. Someone who’d be willing to show him their face. There was no reason to respond because what would you say to that? 

‘thank you for letting me know that opening up to you was all for nothing!’ 

‘thanks for making me doubt love!’ 

‘hope you and her are so fucking happy together!!!!!’ 

Fuck it all and fuck Peter. He just liked the attention until it came from somewhere else. You don’t think you like him all that much anymore. You think you’re lying, too. Before you can give into the desire of hurting him just as bad, you calmly turn the phone off and stuff it in the back of a desk drawer to never be uncovered again. 

You slowly sit in bed and tug the blankets over your head. And only then, do you allow yourself to sob. 

Peter chewed on his bottom lip and waited an hour with constant phone checks before he realized a response was never coming. It really set in during the weekend but even further when he got no note or letter on monday. Not even when he left his backpack unattended for five minutes. 

TUESDAY -he was able to see you and how you avoided his eyes. How you pretended you didn’t see him send a small wave. How you had pulled back from him. 

And if he hadn’t hurt your feelings, or X’s feelings, why would you do that? 

You look up at a two fingered knock at the corner of your desk. “Hi.” You blink and ignore the white noise buzzing in your ears at the sight of Peter standing in front of you. “Hi, Peter.” 

“How was your weekend?” Bitter. Terrible. Lonely.

“Fine. Nothing exciting.” Besides you breaking my heart. 

Watching his fingertips dance on the edge of the plastic, you feel everything in you brighten. “You look sad.” There’s a burn in your stomach, he’s the reason for both the sting and the sadness. 

“Do you need something? Or are you just doing a friendly check in?” Peter bites back the grin when you snap at him, he’s so, so, so right and it feels so, so, so good. “Neither. I’m just confirming my suspicions.” 

“Suspicions?” 

“Yeah. You passed.” Your eyebrows furrow, before you could try to question further Peter was giving half a wave, saying bye, and skipping a step to his aisle. 

FRIDAY: 12:08

You stop breathing for a solid second before feeling your brain spark back to life. It could be anything, it could be from anyone, but you know there’s only one person who would’ve left a note on your desk. 

Your fingers slightly shake when you unfold the graph paper, little squares bled through with black sharpie. 

‘X-

Am I right?

Hopefully, 

-  Peter’ 

You can’t breathe, you can’t talk, you can’t move and you definitely can fucking not look at him. No, no, no. You can feel his eyes on you, you know he’s watching for your reaction. Peter figured you out and had his own fun along the way. 

You were the girl he liked. Oh, wow. Is this how special you’ve made him feel? Something just for your eyes, from him. A secret you both shared between lines. 

You spin and swear you can feel his gaze running over your back, he’s aching for the answer. You almost scream at a tap on your shoulder, a peek lets you know it’s the person you’re hiding from. 

Another note, folded up just like the other one. It’s pushed into your hand, Peter doesn’t say a word, he just offers and leaves. He’s not watching this time, he’s sitting and focused on the front, you feel air leak back into your lungs. 

Full on panic shaking, you’re so happy he’s not watching. 

Your name is addressed on the front, just like you do for him. 

‘I like you. 

I think you not so secretly like me too. 

We could talk more about it at dinner tonight. Will you let me take you out?

Circle yes or no. 

- Peter.

PS. XOXOXO now you’re responsible for mine, too.’ 

[loquaciousferret]

Home for the Weekend

Starring dbf!Joel / neighbour!Joel

Warnings: Strictly 18+ smut, rough sex, degradation/ dirty talk/ teasing, spanking, sir!kink, unspecified age gap, unprotected sex

Word Count: 550 (just a drabble)

A/N: Let me know if anyone wants more of this universe 🥹

“Had to come back didn’t you? Those college boys not good enough?” He taunts.

He was especially vocal today, especially relentless in his teasing. It was your own fault for asking him to pick you up from the bar in your hometown because your dad was gone on a work trip and you couldn’t bear to justify the price of an uber.

That’s where Joel was useful.

If the only price to pay was mindblowing sex… well, you weren’t going to complain.

“Huh? Come back just to see me?” He says.

He was pounding into you on the sofa after he insisted on walking you all the way in to make sure you were “safe”.

Luckily the house was empty and you were able to be unrestricted in your volume. Not that you would have much power to help yourself anyway, the cruel pace and force of his hips slamming into you causing you to cry out repeatedly.

“Joelll-“ You moan loudly. He slaps your ass and you yelp.

“Don’t say my name. Answer me.” He demands.

“Y-Yes, I-“ You interrupt yourself with a cry you can’t hold back. “I came back j- just for this, just for you.”

“I know you did.” He grunts. “Need it so bad don’t you? Hm?”

You focus on the feeling of the pleasure, ignoring him again. This earns you a harsher slap this time.

“Speak when spoken to.” He orders, his tone irritated at what he perceived as disrespect from you for not responding.

“Yes, Sir.” You cry out.

His pace falters for the first time.

“Say that again.” He grunts.

It had slipped out, due to his harsh tone. You had never called him that before. But he seemed to like it.

“Please, Sir. I need it- I nee-“ You cry out, an animalistic sound that comes from deep within you as he pierces you with his cock, splitting you open as he fucks you from behind roughly.

“That’s it baby, talk to me.” He praises, his tone softer now. “Tell me what you need.”

“Need y- you. Need you to fuck me, Sir, please, don’t stop. Feels so good.”

“Yeah? You need it? You need me to fill you up? Huh?”

“Yes- Oh!” He slams into you with somehow even more force. Lewd sounds fill the air of skin slapping and both of your moans. “Please, Sir, need your cum. Please-“

Suddenly he is gripping your hair and pulling you backwards so he can sit on the sofa and have you ride him. Your legs are weak and shaking so he lifts you up himself, bouncing you on his cock and slamming you back down at exactly the pace he desired.

He kisses at your shoulders and the back of your neck, nipping occasionally with his teeth.

A few more piercing thrusts upwards and he is shooting his release deep inside of you. He sinks you back down onto his cock, leaving you stuffed full of his seed as well as his hard length.

You stay there, weak in his lap, and he grows slightly caring, stroking the hair out of your face and rubbing your shoulders as his cock starts to soften inside you.

“How long you home for?” He asks quietly.

“Till Monday.” You say back.

“Your Dad’s gone till Tuesday.” He remarks.

You nod. You know Joel won’t leave you alone until you go back to college. He has started the weekend as he meant to go on.

[fragileruns]

Hi! Could you make a One shot where James Potter is a barista and he's completely in love with a girl that's always going to get coffee after her classes?

Something with a lot of fluff♡

i’m so in love with james potter it hurts. genuinely hurts. hope you enjoy this !

summary: james thinks you’re the prettiest girl to ever walk into his coffee shop, and he finally works up the nerve to ask you out.

warnings: super fluffy, james being helplessly in love, nervous james, i think that’s it? brief mention of sirius

James is not-so patiently waiting for you to walk through the doors of his coffee shop, eyes glancing at the door every moment he can spare.

You always came in around this time, every Monday, Tuesday, and Friday. Always ordering the same thing before going to sit at an empty table and start working away on your laptop.

James always watches you. Not in a stalker-like way, or at least he hopes not. You’re just so pretty that it’s impossible for him not to look. He thinks if he had more nerve, he’d have asked you out by now.

Finally, the bell rings signaling that someone had walked in, and his eyes snap up much too fast, a grin breaking out on his face once he realizes it’s you.

“My favorite customer. I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he spoke, glancing at the clock. You were a bit later than usual, but you came. That was what mattered to him. “Just your usual?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, James,” you sounded preoccupied, and you had bags underneath your eyes. As beautiful as ever, but clearly overworked.

“You alright? You’re usually more chipper,” he frowned, trying not to seem like he spent too much time studying you, even though he definitely did. Every waking moment was spent waiting for you to walk through the doors.

“I’m okay. Finals are coming up, and I… I think I may completely fail, and I’ll have to drop out and become a stripper. Or worse.”

“Don’t be silly. You can always work here, I’m sure Sirius would appreciate the company,” he teased, smiling wider when you flipped him off. “I’m joking. You won’t fail, you’re like, the smartest person I know.”

“The only thing you really know about me is my coffee order,” you responded, reaching for the mug he sat in front of you as soon as he finished making it. You should’ve felt bad for the other customers, you were taking up all of James’ time. He didn’t seem to mind.

“False. I also know you like doughnuts,” James added, sliding a doughnut across the counter for you.

You reluctantly broke your grumpy facade and gave him a smile, one that he swore caused his heart to stop. “Thank you, James.”

He couldn’t make himself speak, too awe-struck to form any words. So, he simply nodded and watched as you walked over to your normal table, one that faced out the window.

James went back to serving everyone else, looking over at you every once in a while. (Truthfully, it was probably every other minute.) You were hard at work, and he ached to be able to smooth out the crease in your forehead as you focused on your paper.

A couple hours went by, and you were still working. James was starting to get worried. You always worked hard, but you already seemed so stressed and tired. And as much as he loved having you sit in his coffee shop, he was sure you’d be much more comfortable at home.

He slid off his apron, calling out to Sirius that he was taking his break before he walked over to your table. “Mind if I sit with you?”

“Hm?” You had questioned, too focused on your laptop to even recognize that someone was talking to you, until you finally looked up to see a curly mop of hair. You smiled and nodded your head. “Oh — yeah, sure. Of course.”

“You looked like you needed a break.”

Your eyes widened a bit, as if you hadn’t realized how long you had been there. Your eyes snapped up to the clock, wincing slightly. “I didn’t realize how long I’d been here. Sorry. Am I hogging the table?”

“What? No. No. You’re not, I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. You’ve been working hard. Too hard,” James was quick to explain, forcing his hand to stay by his side rather than reaching up to tuck the stray piece of hair out of your face.

“I’m okay. Do you check on all of your customers this way?” You questioned, a hint of a smile on your face, like you knew he didn’t. Like you knew about this crush he’s been harboring on you for ages.

Part of him hopes you do know.

“Only the pretty ones.” He flirted, mentally high-fiving himself whenever he saw the blush on your cheeks. It gave him the slightest confidence boost, which was exactly what he needed.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

You seemed to snap back into reality, looking at him. Then behind you, as if he could be speaking to anyone else.

“Tonight? Now?”

“No, no. Not tonight. Just… you know, some time when you’re free. After finals, if you want. We can celebrate or — or you know, whatever.” The confidence he previously held was slowly dwindling, as he fully prepared for what he thought was going to be rejection. “Or we can do something else. If you want. Like, um, see a movie. Get coffee. You know, just — just whatever.”

“James,” you started, and he hadn’t noticed the grin on your face until your voice broke his ramble. It almost calmed him. “Are you asking me out?”

“No. I mean, yes. Maybe. Do you want it to be me asking you out?”

You cleared your throat, willing yourself not to laugh as you shut your laptop. “If you are asking me out, then I’d say I’m free next Friday. And I’d love to do anything with you. Except, maybe not get coffee. It wouldn’t be anything special,” you started, and James felt the sigh of relief that left him. “But, if you’re not, I’m free next Friday, but I’m sincerely disappointed.”

“Oh. Well, then I was definitely asking you out. Just in a horrible, embarrassing way.” He confirmed, doing hs best to keep his cool. To not bounce with excitement. He felt he was failing, he was sure you could see right through him.

“It was cute. I’ll meet you here next Friday? Normal time, or?” You questioned, packing your things back into your bag and standing up from the table as you looked at him.

“Normal time. That’s, that’s definitely okay.” His hair flopped with his eager nod, standing up along with you.

“Okay, cool. And James?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you. So, you know, don’t freak out when it happens.”

“You’re — you’re gonna kiss me? Like, now?” He questioned, glancing around at everyone who was watching. Not that he cared, he’d probably kiss you in front of the entire world and be smug about it.

“No,” you laughed, and James felt his heart break slightly. “When I see you. Next Friday.”

“Oh. Right, that makes more sense,” he nodded, watching as you left, giggling and smiling. He was half disappointed, half excited.

And he knew he’d be counting down the seconds until you showed back up in his coffee shop.

[hom3landr]

homelander + bear hugs? 🥹

Apple Pie

A short interlude between Homelander and his favorite baker.

1 2 3

Homelander fights the urge to throttle Ashley as she follows behind him like an anxious chihuahua, yapping some nonsense about some Gala he’s contracted to show up to this evening. He can’t even remember what it’s for, just that it's more of Vought sucking its own dick while he endures hours of buttering up senators and shooting bright smiles at the ever present cameras. He’d been excited at first because he thought you might be there. He could just escape to whatever sad corner you would be working in if it all got to be too much. Except you won’t be there because someone approved your request for time off. He shoots Ashley a sideways glare.

The leather of his gloves creak as he clenches his fist. You won’t be back to work again until Monday and it is still only Friday. You’ve already been gone since last Monday. It’s driving him insane. The two of you don’t even get the chance to talk everyday normally but knowing that you won’t be there if he needs you… It makes him feel itchy and out of sorts. He misses you.

He’s so close to snapping as Ashley prattles on but the rapid sound of running footsteps has his brow wrinkling. His heart flutters in his chest as a familiar scent wafts through the hallway. It can’t be…

He turns.

Eager arms wrap around his neck, warm and soft and so so so incredibly close.

He doesn’t notice Ashley scurry off out of sight. He doesn’t notice much of anything other than you. He’s vaguely aware that he’s in a public hallway and that anyone could turn the corner and witness this. He frankly doesn’t give a shit.

He’s never been this close to you before. He can see every freckle, every pore, every imperfection and blemish. He doesn’t concern himself with any of that. As far as he is concerned, you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. He’s holding you tight around the waist, your legs dangling, heartbeat pressed against his. Your chapstick smells like warm apple pie.

It’s like he manifested you from thin air by sheer wanting. Perfect. Soft. You.

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you beam at him. He spins you around just so he can hear you giggle. He’s pathetic. He’s pathetic and whipped and fuck…He can’t fucking think when you look at him like that.

“Surprise!” You grin.

“It certainly is.” His answering smile is blinding.

He commits every inch of you to memory. You’re not wearing your typical work clothes, instead you’re in shorts and a top with straps so thin that it wouldn’t take any effort for him to grab one and tug it apart. The previously hidden expanse of deliciously smelling skin has his mouth watering.

He should put you down. He should.

But you aren’t pulling away or wiggling around. You seem perfectly content to be held in his arms, fingers shyly brushing the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know why you’re back early. He doesn’t care.

“I wanted to bring you something from my trip.” You respond shyly.

“Aren’t I the lucky one?” He winks and there it is. He’s flustered you. He loves flustering you.

He feels himself beginning to harden in his suit and it takes a second to realize that you’re pressed so closely that it won’t be long before you’ll be feeling it too. It’s so tempting to stay just like this. He wants you to feel what you do to him. He needs you to know that he wants you too.

But the timing and setting isn’t right. So with a burdened sigh, he lets you go. He laments the loss of you against him. So he reaches out to lay a steadying hand on your shoulder, although he handled you so carefully that you felt no jostling at all. The contrast between the crimson of his glove and your soft skin only serves to fuel the fire burning inside him. His suit is becoming uncomfortably tight but he’ll have to take care of that later.

“So I went back and visited my home town. Every year they have this HUGE baking contest. I’d always wanted to do it but I never had the confidence,” Your words are spilling out like water from a jug. You’re talking way too fast but you’re too cute for him to interrupt, especially when your hands start getting involved too as you gesture. “Well this time I did it! I entered my chocolate cake recipe, the one you helped me with. Guess what!!!”

You pull something out of your back pocket and happily show it off. You’re bouncing on your heels as his eyebrows wrinkle in slight confusion. You’re holding out a cheap blue ribbon. The fabric is polyester and one of the tails is already starting to fray. The plaque is flimsy plastic with a bold #1 printed on it. But you’re looking at it as though it was made of silk and gold. You gesture for him to take it and he does, regretfully removing his hand from you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you! So I wanted you to have the ribbon. Since we both kinda won it. I don’t want to take all the credit.” You beamed.

You… You came all the way back to the Tower when you still had time off to give him a shitty ribbon? He appreciates the gesture even while he looks at it with barely veiled disdain. What he really enjoys is your words. They were absolutely correct of course. Your old recipe was a stinker. He doubted you’d have even gotten an honorable mention without his impeccable palate helping you. But the real gift you brought him wasn’t the ugly ribbon. He’d just wanted to see you.

It wasn’t until later, after you’d had to leave, that he truly appreciated the ugly little ribbon. He ran it through his fingers as he lay naked in bed. It was cheap but it meant something.

We both won it.

He sits straight up as a realization hits him. He remembers painfully that stupid fake house they’d made for his fake childhood. How his bedroom had been so infuriatingly “perfect.” He remembered how much it hurt to talk about all the trophies he’d won. Well…

He looks down at the ribbon in his hands. It looked exactly like that fake shit they’d put in his room. Except this was real. He’d won this. You’d told him so. It was his, ugly as it was.

He clears off the table next to his bed, just to make a little spot for his new trophy.

#1

Yeah he fucking was.

[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 14: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Team Scuderia Ferrari

Word count: 4,410

Written by raelee / Posted Oct 10

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“I heard you were in Monaco and didn’t come see me,” Lando accuses as soon as I answer his FaceTime call.

“You were already in Mexico,” I answer defensively.

“Yeah, but asking me would’ve still been nice.”

“Why would I ask if I already knew that you weren’t there?” I question.

He opens his mouth to respond but stops, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. I watch his eyes flicker on the screen, and as I’m about to ask him about the sudden movement, he answers my unasked question.

“Where are you right now?”

“Oh, uh,” I laugh nervously, causing Lando to squint at me. “I’m actually in my new flat.”

“Your new flat?” Lando raises his eyebrows at me.

“Yeah, Charles and I actually moved in together.” I wince, waiting for the earful that I’m about to receive.

If Lando doesn’t like Charles even staying at my flat, he’s going to hate that we live together now. Even if I told him that Charles is gone half of the year and we stay in different bedrooms he still wouldn’t be happy about it.

Lando opens his mouth, about to speak again, when his doorbell suddenly rings. I thank whatever God is listening in on our conversation for that. 

“Hold on,” he tells me like I have another option, heading towards his door so that I’m left staring at his ceiling. I hear muffled voices before he returns.

“Who was that?” I ask, hoping that the question will distract him from our previous topic.

“The delivery man,” he answers.

“Oh, what’d you get?”

“It’s not for me.”

I give him a questioning look at the response.

“They’re birthday presents for Ada and Lucy.”

Ada and Lucy's second birthday is coming up. They’re so excited to have a day that’s just dedicated to celebrating them. They’re especially looking forward to being able to eat cake and junk food all day, and open presents.

Unfortunately, it also falls on the day of the grand prix in Brazil. So Lando and Charles, two of their favorite people, won’t be able to celebrate their birthday with them on their actual birthday.

It’s going to be extremely difficult to explain to the girls why we’re celebrating, but why we’re not celebrating with the ones that they love.

“You didn’t have to buy them anything, Lando,” I insist.

“They’re my nieces, they’re going to get spoiled.”

“Well, thank you. We appreciate it. Were you going to come to London soon to celebrate with us?” I question.

It’s at a weird point in the season right now. There’s only a few races left until the season ends and winter break starts, so the atmosphere is weird. There’s a lot of testing and media duties for the drivers to do, so they’re at one of their busiest points, but everyone is ready for the season to just be done so they can get a little break.

“Well I was actually thinking that I could give them the presents in Brazil.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Like… you give them to Charles and Charles gives them to Ada and Lucy?”

“No, like you, Ada, and Lucy come to Brazil to watch the grand prix and McClaren will throw a birthday party for them, and I can give them their gifts then,” he suggests.

“Oh,” I’m taken by surprise. It’s honestly something that I hadn’t considered. “Lando, the grand prix is in like two weeks, that’s very short notice.”

“Yeah, but you already said that you don’t have classes on Fridays. And I think you said you work every other Friday and if I did my math correctly, you would have off that Friday,” he explains.

“I have a class on Monday in the afternoon, so if we flew back Sunday night or Monday morning I would still be able to make it…” I shake my head.

I can’t believe I’m considering this.

Going to a grand prix would bring the opposite of what I want for the girls. It would draw attention to them, especially if McClaren hosts a birthday party for them. After all of the drama on social media and people spotting us as a family of four out in public and posting about it, it makes me worried to go to Lando and Charles’ home away from home.

But… the girls have been showing more and more interest while watching the races lately. And I would love for them to be at a race to see their father and their uncle in their element. Plus meeting the people that Charles and Lando surround themselves with the majority of the weekend would be nice.

“I’ll have to think about it, Lando,” I sigh. “It just might be too hard and too soon after going to Monaco.”

“I get it, you don’t want to see your brother,” he jokes.

I roll my eyes. “Oh no, you caught me.”

“Let me know what you decide, alright? I can fly back and help you fly out with the girls, and I can pay for your flights and hotels and everything,” he offers.

I take a deep breath, gearing up to tell him that he doesn’t need to worry about that and I could figure it out myself. Then, I stop. “Okay, Lando.”

~

“You know what would be great?” Charles asks.

“What?” My eyes shift from the textbook in front of me to my laptop screen that has the problem pulled up, working through it in my head while also trying to carry a conversation with Charles.

“If you came to the Brazil grand prix with Ada and Lucy so that we could celebrate their birthday as a family.”

My head snaps towards where he’s set up on a FaceTime call on my phone leaned up against my water bottle.

“What?” I repeat my earlier question, although this time with surprise. My heart flutters when I catch that he referred to the four of us as a family. I know that I do it, but it’s nice to know that he does it too.

“Yeah, you know. We could celebrate their second birthday on their actual birthday, they could have a little party at Ferrari,” he suggests. “It’d be fun.”

“Have-”I pause at the question that I’m about to ask, already not believing the words that are about to leave my mouth, but Charles urges me on. “Have you been talking to my brother at all?”

“What? Why would you ask that?”

He’s a terrible actor.

“Because he said the exact same thing,” I deadpan.

“Great minds think alike.”

I sigh. “I’ll tell you the same thing that I told him. I’ll think about it.”

“If you’re worried about traveling with Ada and Lucy, I can fly back and fly out to Brazil with you three,” he offers.

“God, you really did talk to Lando,” I murmur. “You know what? Fine. If you and Lando can come out and help me fly out to Brazil with two toddlers and all of our luggage, we can spend their birthday at the grand prix in Brazil. I’m sure they would love that.”

“You’re not going to regret it, mon amour,” he grins enthusiastically. “I’m going to call Lando now to figure out all of the details.”

“Okay, have-”The phone call ends before I can finish my sentence. “Fun.”

I roll my eyes at the clear excitement on Charles’ face, but can’t hide the smile that’s growing on my lips.

~

“Lando, can you grab a bag, please?”

It’s like deja vu, except this time Lando is the one holding Ada and Lucy’s hands while I walk alongside Charles who struggles with the bags once again.

“No, I’m escorting Ada and Lucy right now,” Lando denies. Charles gives him a look of disbelief. “Uncle privileges.”

“Charles, just let me grab-””Not you, mon amour,” he declines, heaving a bag higher onto his shoulder.

I roll my eyes at his stubbornness but don’t persist any further.

I’m just surprised that I’m in the airport for the second time this month, jetting off on yet another international trip. I’m shocked that I’m doing this at this point in my life, nonetheless with two toddlers by my side.

Of course I have help from Lando and Charles (although, is Lando really help?) but after trying so hard to keep my daughters out of the public eye, taking them to a place where people from all walks of life attend is crazy to me. I can’t help but feel weirdly proud of myself for how far I’ve come.

“Are you okay?” Lando’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. I return his gaze. “You just kind of zoned out there.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I smile at him and he smiles back.

And they’re genuine smiles. I really am fine.

~

Charles gets us in on Friday without having to deal with any of the media. I’m secretly relieved- as much as I’ve tried to reassure him that I don’t mind the media and fans, we’ll just have to hide the girls’ faces as best as we can, he’s taking all precautions to protect their privacy as best as we can.

“What are my nieces wearing?” A voice snaps me out of my quiet bickering with a whining Ada.

“Shirts and jeans,” I answer, picking her up and into my arms.

“Ferrari shirts,” Charles smirks at Lando.

“Ugh,” Lando wrinkles his nose in disgust. “That won’t do.” He glares at Ada’s gray Ferrari T-shirt and Lucy’s red one. “I’ll find something else for you.”

He disappears before Charles and I can say anything else.

I roll my eyes, a point for Charles not to comment on it, before we make our way into the Ferrari garage.

“Y/N!” I’m pulled into a pair of arms as soon as I enter. I don’t recognize the arms- he’s gotten much more muscular over time- but I do recognize the cologne.

He still needs to use less of it.

“Oh, Carlos,” I wrap my free arm around him.

When I was Lando’s assistant and Carlos still drove at McClaren, we became close because of their close friendship. I didn’t tag along on all of their outings, I hate golf, but we would go out to dinner and for walks together.

We became close fast.

And it was difficult when I had to end that friendship.

I pull back, wiping at the light tears in my eyes at the sudden rush of emotions hitting me. Luckily, Carlos doesn’t comment on it, leaning in closer to brush his thumb against the little girl in my arm’s cheek.

“And this must be Ada, I see you in all of your mother’s stories.”

“Is everyone on your private story’s list but me?” Charles whines.

“Step it up, Charles,” Carlos grins at his teammate, brushing a strand of Lucy’s hair behind her ear. Her cheeks blush as she stares at him.

“Oh no, no boys,” Charles scolds gently, turning away so that Lucy could no longer face Carlos.

To my surprise, Ada’s staring back at Carlos. Not in a bashful way like her sister, but in a curious way.

“I heard it’s your birthday,” Carlos says to Ada and Lucy.

“On Sunday they turn two,” I explain.

“Well I got you birthday presents that you need to open today.” He grabs two nearby bags.

“Carlos, they don't need anything. Especially not today, it’s not their birthday yet,” Charles tells his teammate.

“They’re opening them anyway.”

Carlos’ tone leaves no room for argument and the girls have already focused on the bags, so Carlos hands them over to open.

They’re toddler sized Ferrari hats, but on the brim there’s a 55 and they’re both signed by Carlos.

“Really? You signed it too?” Charles looks unimpressed. I can’t help but laugh, which earns a grin for Carlos and a glare from Charles.

“They could make a nice buck off of it one day.”

~

I try to subtly walk through the paddock back to the Ferrari garage to meet Charles after showing the girls the cars on the track for qualifying, but it’s not easy with a tired toddler on each hip while trying to look out for any phones recording or taking pictures of us.

An arm suddenly pushes on my back, guiding me towards a different garage.

“These are my nieces,” Lando’s familiar voice announces proudly to the group of mechanics and engineers.

“Ew, Lando, get your arm off of me, you’re all sweaty,” I whine.

He rolls his eyes but removes his arm, reaching out to forcibly take the exhausted girls from my arms into his.

“No, you must be tired from the race, I can hold them,” I reassure them.

“Let me spend time with my girls,” he disagrees.

“And who might you be?” One of the mechanics raises an eyebrow at me flirtatiously.

Before I can handle it (in other words, embarrass myself) Lando speaks up, glaring at the mechanic. “She’s my sister.”

One of the other mechanics nudges the guy and mumbles something. All I can manage to hear is ‘Leclerc.’

Speak of the devil and he may appear.

“What are you doing here?” Charles asks in confusion, resting a hand on my waist gently and stepping around me to wave at his daughters.

“Lando pulled me in here,” I explain.

“Did you come to spy on the enemy, Leclerc?” A man I’ve only seen in photos approaches. Well, he’s really just a boy.

“Oscar Piastri,” my face lights up at the sight of him and I step forward to shake his hand. “It’s so great to finally meet you. You know, I loved your overtake in F2 in Bahrain-””Now hold on,” Lando interrupts me. “Are you telling me that my sister is actually an Oscar Piastri fan?”

“Yes, I really am,” I admit, watching as Charles wrestles Ada out of Lando’s arms.

“I can’t believe this, my own sister likes my teammate more than she likes me,” my brother says in mock disbelief.

“Why wouldn’t she? I’m the one decorating the cake for her daughters’ birthday party on Sunday,” Oscar grins smugly.

“Birthday party? On Sunday? Here?” Charles repeats parts of the sentence, raising his eyebrows.

“Yes, that’s what he just said. Do you need your ears checked or something?” Lando questions jokingly.

“You can’t have a birthday party for the girls here on Sunday. We’re having a birthday party for them in the Ferrari motorhome,” Charles says.

“Well I’m their uncle that they rarely see, so they really should be spending more time here with me, and that includes having their birthday party here,” Lando responds.

“And I’m their dad, so they should have their birthday party in a familiar environment. And that’s surrounded by red,” Charles narrows his eyes at his competitor.

As if they both suddenly remember that I’m there, they turn to look at me with expectant gazes. As soon as I recognize the expressions, I laugh.

“Oh hell no, you’re not dragging me into this. Figure it out yourselves.”

They turn back to each other in defeat, narrowing their eyes at each other once again. This is going to be a long weekend.

~

“Oh my god,” I gape at the screen, hugging the girls tight to me as Charles crosses the line for a second place finish. “Dad came in second place, girls.”

The girls, despite not knowing what I’m saying, clap their hands in excitement, causing the engineers and mechanics around me to laugh.

“Are you going to the podium?” One of them asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I frown, fighting myself internally.

On one hand, it would be a great opportunity to remind Charles that I care about his career and success. Having his daughters at a race with him to watch him for the first time and then to get a podium, I know he’d be a little disappointed if we weren’t to go to the podium celebrations.

But on the other hand, I’m still worried about Ada and Lucy’s privacy. I know that pictures of their faces are already out there, but I want to do all that I can to prevent more of them from getting out. I want them to be able to have that privacy to decide what they want to do in the future instead of always being known as Charles Leclerc’s daughters. And a grand prix with cameras and strangers everywhere… they’re bound to constantly be on camera, especially with the controversy surrounding their existence and sudden appearance.

“Are you worried about their faces being seen?” Another mechanic asks. “Because I have a solution.”

I give him a curious look and he grabs two nearby helmets used for decoration, putting them over the girls heads. They squeal in excitement and I laugh.

“That’s genius.”

Together we make our way to the podium, crowding together behind the fence for Charles, Max, and Sergio to drive up. Everyone around me is polite, making sure to leave me plenty of room with a toddler on each hip.

When Charles pulls up and sees us, an expression that I’ve never seen before appears on his face. It lights up and it’s full of adoration, and he practically runs over to us.

He rips his helmet off, throwing it haphazardly on the ground behind him before leaning forward, lifting the visor of Ada’s helmet and placing a kiss on her nose. He does the same to Lucy and I smile at the gesture, expecting him to move on to the guys beside me to celebrate with them.

To my surprise, he pulls me into a hug, Ada and Lucy squished between us.

“Happy for you,” I confess to him, choking back the sobs that want to escape. He gives me a soft smile, able to tell that I’m seconds away from crying.

Thankfully he moves on to the guys before I start bawling my eyes out. I don’t know why I feel like crying. Maybe because this feels so… natural. Being at grand prixs again, surrounded by all of the drivers and mechanics and engineers. Taking my daughters to grand prixs, showing them the world that their uncle and dad were raised in and now are dominating.

Maybe it’s the pride that I feel for Charles, who’s having such a great season.

When Charles is up on the podium, I do let a tear slip.

~

“Good, I was just looking for you. They’re setting up the birthday party at the McClaren motorhome right now,” Lando catches up to the four of us as we walk back to the Ferrari motorhome.

“Lando, the Ferrari motorhome is already getting their birthday party ready,” Charles informs him slowly.

“Well, I already told you that McClaren’s going to host their birthday party.”

“And I already told you that Ferrari’s going to host their birthday party.”

Once again, the two stare each other down.

God I’m really getting sick of this.

“Guys, I have something to show you,” Alex suddenly appears, breaking the tension.

“Oh thank god,” I mumble, following behind him as he begins to make his way down the paddock.

“Is it in the Williams motorhome? That’s such a far walk,” Lando whines. I hear a thump, then another thump as Lando hits Charles back.

Alex holds the door open for us and Ada and Lucy enter ahead of everyone else. All of the sudden, a bunch of people jump out from behind the furniture in the room, shouting “Surprise!” and blowing party blowers.

Ada looks around shyly, clinging to my leg, while Lucy takes a step forward with a wide grin, loving the attention. There’s people from all the teams here, from employees in the communication departments to mechanics, engineers, and drivers.

I recognize a lot of the faces even years later, but there’s some new ones as well.

“Thank you for this,” I murmur to Alex as Lance Stroll and Esteban Ocon manage to pry Ada off my leg to dance and Lucy watches in a trance as Fernando Alonso and Sergio Perez engage in a conversion in Spanish.

“Of course,” he grins at me, knowing how much easier it is to have this party at a neutral location. Not only to stop the fighting, but also to hopefully mend the relationship between Lando and Charles.

It’s only when Ada and Lucy blow out the candles on their cake that it hits me. I have two two year olds.

Of course I know that they’re not the small babies that I once cradled in my arms or fed bottles to, but it’s so much harder actually realizing it. They’ll never be as little as they are now.

And right now… they’re not even that little. Right now they’re holding their own forks, feeding themselves cake while trying to keep it off of themselves as best as they can. They’re real people with thoughts and emotions, and they no longer need me as much as they once did.

It makes my heart hurt.

I glance over at Charles, thinking of his reaction when we found out that I wasn’t pregnant. If anyone’s the father of my girls, I’m glad that it’s him. It makes me curious about my future children… what their dad will be like. If it’ll be Charles.

“Why is she staring at him like that?” Alex’s question snaps me out of my thoughts.

My cheeks blush, thinking that I’ve been caught, but once I follow his sightline I see Lucy staring at Carlos, batting her eyelashes at him.

“She’s trying to flirt with him,” I inform him.

“That’s flirting with him?” Esteban raises his eyebrows in disbelief. It’s literally just staring creepily at Carlos and blinking quickly. She needs to work on it.

“I wonder where she learned that from,” Lily giggles, nudging me.

“That’s a classic Y/N move,” Charles chimes in.

“What? No it’s not,” I deny, reaching over to push his shoulder teasingly.

“Please, do you not remember?”

“Remember what?”

He grins at me and it’s like we’re the only two people in the room. “Remember when we would lay in bed at night on a race weekend and you would bat those pretty little eyelashes at me, ‘Oh Charles, can you please go get me a chocolate bar from the vending machine?’”

“I never did that,” I exclaim.

“Yes you did, on multiple occasions. I’m surprised we were never caught with how often I would have to buy you damn chocolate bars,” he teases.

I laugh and he joins in softly.

Someone clearing their throat snaps us out of the moment and I suddenly remember there’s people around us.

“Um, let’s move on to presents,” I announce awkwardly.

Ada and Lucy get so much stuff. Esteban gets them a book on how to learn French- I guess he doesn't know much about two year olds, Pierre gets them mini purses from Louis Vuitton, Lando had two toddler sized play cars sent to our new apartment but gives the girls practically the whole Barbie aisle for the party, and Max gets them a baby shark toy (something about how good the song is).

Slowly, everyone begins to leave, and Lando and George keep the girls entertained while Charles and I begin to clean up.

“Well I’d say the party was a success,” I say to Charles, bending down to pick wrapping paper off of the ground.

“Yeah, Albon did a great job hosting. Ada and Lucy had a lot of fun,” he glances over to where they’re playing with their new toys.

“So did the drivers,” I chuckle.

I begin to rise at an angle, hands full of wrapping paper as Charles bends down at an angle to grab some more wrapping paper. I turn my head at the same time he ducks his down, his lips landing on my own.

We kiss for a split second, lips moving against each other in sync before I remember where we are and pull away with a quiet gasp.

My eyes look over at the group of four, seeing them still playing. They didn’t notice the accidental kiss at all.

The damage is done as I look over at Charles, who’s staring back at me with wide eyes and an open mouth. I stare back with blushing cheeks.

“Are you guys almost done?” Lando calls out, breaking our staring competition.

“Yeah, just a little bit longer,” I agree, not breaking the gaze with Charles.

~

We don't have the chance to talk about it.

As soon as we get back to the hotel, both girls are sent into meltdowns from the sugar high and a long, exhausting day. Then, since they’re both throwing a fit, once one begins to calm down the other one begins to overreact which sends the other one into a fit again.

Finally Charles and I manage to bathe them, change them into their pajamas, and get them to bed.

If I’m exhausted, I don’t know how Charles feels.

I can feel his eyes on me as I anxiously fold one of Lucy’s dirty shirts.

I look up, meeting those hazel eyes that I’ve become so accustomed to seeing. Now I don’t know what I would do without them.

“So…” I start awkwardly.

He just looks so good like this. Hair messy from a long day, in just a casual T-shirt and gym shorts. It’s his dad look. The dim light from the hotel lamp casts a warm glow on him, making me want to just reach over and pull him into my arms.

Before I can even react, he takes two steps forward, hands gently placed on my biceps as he turns me towards him. He leans down and my hands reach up to grab the back of his biceps as our lips meet.

It’s an anticipated kiss, and god, was it worth the wait.

His lips are warm and comforting, like pulling on a sweatshirt straight out of the dryer. Like it’s meant to be, and although you know it can’t last forever, you’ll savor it while it’s happening.

His hands slide down to my waist and my arms wind around his neck, pulling him as close to me as I can.

It’s Ada and Lucy’s second birthday. And it’s also the day that Charles and I kissed twice- once on accident and once on purpose.

This may be one of the happiest days of my life.

Tags that are working

@untitled92260 @disneydaydreameralways @zxlla @thrsdyschld @purpledianezzzzzz @lovingroscoee @bilbobag9ins @way-to-eat-all-the-chips-kip @withyoutilltheendofthismess @chiogarza @simpforpierre @scottmctominbae @octaviareina @lindsaytriestowrite @starjane312 @savannah-elliott @sanne-p @o0itsjustme0o @eleanorbvb @permanentllyharry

@dr3lover @piceous21 @citylights31 @xoxoloverb @lebritneeey @sweetlittleorchid @soomanybands @raaaaabzzz @heyitskay-21  @5secondsof-beforeyouexit @xox-moon-xox @tall-tanned-tattoo @fredsandlokiswhore @fictional-l0v3r @valkryejh @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @starjane312 @hannahholland1811 @b-orderline

@puthaydestroyer @theplobnrgone @dudde-44 @lmao-liz @herpes-free-since-05 @leclerc16s @fictional-l0v3r @hes-club @kyomihann @compulsiveshit @markluv4u @kodzuskook @hazzasswiftie @organasith @chxndlerrr @ella33 @pleasantducktimetravel @ourlazydetectivekitten @weirdlychaotic @s00nfloweronfyre @ophcelia @loveofmylife12 @iamasimpingh0e @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @allisonxf1 @f-hollands @junglxqueen @motylekrozi @shqwqrma @justmemewriting @hello-sunshine-x @hiphopdancer101universe @caosfanblr @rosesintj @arieltwvdtohamflash  @dessxoxsworld @alwaysclassyeagle @irule-ha-losers @buendiabebeta @butterflyjames @copper-boom @xcharlottemikaelsonx @mrswang17 @charlesswife @kplatzman @teti-menchon0604 @oneoftwoghosts @darkmalice00 @alwaysclassyeagle @rafaaoli @a-distantdreamer @teti-menchon0604 @sadsierra2 @screemqueen @spngirl05 @lighttsoutlewis @alwaysclassyeagle @bwormie 

Tags that aren’t working

 @watermelon1299 @sweet3poison @88red88 @infamousmany @cippyo @sophiachiodelli @starlightoctavia @ln15 @adorerdj @fromthedeskofjoii @ar333f1 @callmequeenbeee @starbucksthings @ninnypoosworld @starxqt @poofy-baby-unicorns @escapingrealityagain @jazztime @sueesstuff @coucou123 @nglurmomishotlmao @dontforgetplusc @teamspideyman @starcatcher48 @lissimountf1 @motheraiya @lovee-rosiieee @brusg21 @lcuppo @squidwardsluverxx @ystrolllll @blueskiesandtom @fulla02 @teardropsandraindrops @ruleroftheuniverse

[darklcy]

𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

‣ requsted by @ipromiseimnotthirsty : hello! if your requests are open, would you write robin x reader smut where reader has been teasing robin all day until she snaps? maybe they’ve been in public/with other people/in class all day and then they get home? thank you!!

‣ robin buckley x f! reader | stranger things mastelist | 1.5k words | 18+ MDNI, heavy petting, skin on skin, sexual tension, swearing, reader has boobas, college au, no use of y/n, fingering, make out sesh

‣ this is actually one of the first times i've ever written smut so i hope i did you justice adfafawe sorry this one took so long! enjoy my luvs

Something must’ve been in the air today, she thinks.

Surely that’s why her skin flared red, insides grinding like an engine, knee bouncing beneath her desk anxiously while trying to find a rhythm with the pencil in her grip. Professor Smith’s lecture faded quiet, the woman pointing to an assignment on the board that was to be finished come Monday morning. Robin slouched further into her chair.

…A shoe trails the inside of her calf. 

Her eyes close while her lips tighten. Nudging it away, she ignores the playful scoff behind her. 

Quit it.

The shoe lightly pokes her back, the tip of a canvas converse tapping into her corduroy pants. Smith and the chalkboard mesh together in a blur, a sweaty induced blur with Robin’s only focus being the damn girl behind her. The same damn girl who’s been riling up her nerves the whole class period.

The tip of a finger twirls around a strand of Robin’s bob, a phantom sensation of pulling on her scalp before the tension releases. Something’s gotta be in the air today.

—

The lunch line was annoyingly long today. Her weight shifts from feet to feet as her shoulder leans against the wall, awaiting her turn to enter the school cafe and order some overpriced food the campus provides. Not her usual choice, but waking up late damned her to forget packing a sack lunch. A student with a plastic tray walks by. Salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. Her nose twitches.

A sharp pinch to her side jolts her awake.

“Hey.”

Of course it’s you. Robin’s hand flies to her chest.

“My god, you scared me.”

“Good, I was trying to.”

Do you even know what you’re doing or is it just a state of oblivion?

“What’s for lunch today?”

“Uhh, steak and mashed potatoes.”

She watches you contemplate. 

“Hm. I’ll save you a spot.”

Your hand caresses her shoulder, but as you depart, trails down her arm before releasing at her wrist. Goosebumps stem up from her fingertips, unable to do anything else except watch you prance away to an empty table, joining a couple other classmates, and sure enough, placing your bag to the seat right next to yours.

You smile in greeting like it was just a regular day. It was almost mocking her. Her freckles could feel the heat underneath her pores. 

Someone taps her shoulder. “Can you move up.”

Shit.

— Last period of the day. Thank god.

She’d just about had it with you and your damn mannerisms. It’s never riled her up like this before, but surely there’s something in the air, with how much she wants to just-

“Wanna hangout today?”

You two hangout every day, yet you still ask. She hops in your passenger seat and leans her cheek against her palm, strategically moving her knees a bit away from you. Your hand still finds its way to her knee.

You commuted to class everyday, seeing how you only lived a couple blocks down the road. Robin doesn’t complain, her roommate wasn’t really her favorite person to hangout with anyways. Most days it was just awkward silence and greetings. 

“You won’t believe what happened in chem. Jason Carver messed up on the lab, and made a huge mess. His face was so fucking funny, he kept whining about how his sweater was ruined.”

You shake your head with laughter. Robin doesn’t react.

“Rob? You listening? I just said Jason Carver made an ass of himself and you’re like not responding.”

She raises her head when you squeeze her knee twice.

“Oh, yeah. No, that’s funny.”

You scoff. “I love your enthusiasm.”

Robin’s tongue rolls the inside of her mouth, her face returning to its rest against her palm. 

The familiar neighborhood streets fade in, your car slowing to a park, when Robin finally breaks. Her hands pull you into her immediately, her torso leaning over the gear shift to reach you better. She feels you smile against her, your hands gripping her hair and tugging gently. 

“You’ve been driving me crazy all fucking day.”

Robin groans into your mouth while taking a swoop of air, only to dive back into you again.

“I was trying to.”

She wants to ruin you. She wants to take you here and now. She wants you to shut the fuck up.

Your lips taste so sweet. The gasps and whines she drives out of you she immediately drinks in. She’s so lost in you that the roll of your bodies hitting the horn startle you both apart with a jolt.

“Shit!”

Robin swears as you burst out laughing. She glares down at you, but surrenders at your expression, your face squinting with giggles and smiles. She adores you. With a sigh, she bends down to steal another kiss. 

“Let’s go inside.”

You hum. “Good idea.”

—-

Robin starts immediately where you left off. The second you two enter your room, she grabs hold of you again, not wasting any time to place her mouth on yours. She feels you hold onto her waist, gently rubbing your fingers against her sides. Robin bites your lip when you pinch her.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

The back of your knees buckle against your bed, allowing Robin to fully settle herself on top. 

“Nope,” 

She hates how you pop the ‘p.’

This way is much better, she finds. No damn gear shift or car horn to drive you apart now. This way she can feel you entirely, your warmth, your breath, your soft skin. Her knee glides up to rest between your legs, smiling when you stutter, your fingers desperately grabbing onto her. Robin rubs herself up and down, her weight and position making you two hungry for more, kisses growing deeper and deeper. Who needs to breathe air when she could just live here, in your body, in your affection?

She feels her shirt rise with her movements, to which she momentarily pauses to sit up and rid herself of the damn thing. You take this chance to follow her, exposing more of yourself to her and quickly meeting her lips again. Your fingers trail up and down her shoulder blades, her spine, her nape. Your nails become your new eyes, wanting to memorize every single freckle and pore of Robin’s skin down to the minute detail. Robin was so beautiful. Her freckles were probably your favorite thing about her. If you could, you’d kiss every single one. You started with her collarbones, then her shoulders, your teeth gently biting her in between.

Robin’s arms encased around your shoulders, starting to mess with the back of your wired bra before snapping it off. She moved lower to embrace your breasts with her tongue, each lick and kiss quickening your breaths. With a pop, Robin moves to the other, her tongue swirling around the bud before wrapping her mouth around it entirely. 

“You know..”

Robin peers up at you through her eyelashes, her lips still working on your left breast.

“If I’d known messing with you would get you like this… I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”

You gasp when her teeth bites your nipple.

“Shut up.”

Robin’s tongue licks into your mouth greedily, shutting you up in the best way. You find the latch hooking her bra together and eagerly rip it off, your fingers grabbing at her while her mouth occupies itself with yours. Robin leans on her right elbow while her left hand redirects yours to the hem of her jeans, letting out a hum when they dip inside and find where she needs you most. 

She’s so warm and slick with heat, you find no trouble slipping in a finger inside, curling rhythmically and slowly. Robin moans against you, breaking apart from you to your neck, letting herself rest there while you get her ready. It’s not long before you slip in another finger, even allowing her to grind down against you to rid some of the ache. 

She practically whines when your fingers leave her.

“Take this thing off.”

She obeys instantly. Her jeans fall heavy to the floor and you’re back at it, her heat missing the two seconds you weren’t inside her.

Her moans and whines could sustain you forever. It feels so good to make her feel good, you could probably reach your limit right here and now just drunk off her pleasure. Three fingers in now, pumping in and out, in and out. She’s close, you can feel it. It’s almost amusing how her cool exterior dumbs down to whimpers the moment someone touches her. 

“I’m getting, I’m,”

You leave a lingering kiss on her cheek, while Robin’s eyes clenched shut, her walls closing down on your fingers as she lets go. Her moans are euphoric and beautiful, and being this close you can feel them all around you, surrounding your five senses, and you find yourself starting to moan with her, too.

Her body collapses onto you, her sweaty cheek meeting the crook of your neck while your slick covered fingers come up to your lips to be licked clean. Robin can hear you hum at the sensation, annoyingly popping your fingers like a cartoon character after finishing a gourmet meal.

“You taste so sweet, Rob.”

You can’t hold back your grin as she groans into your skin.

“God, shut up.”

[dancingtotuyo]

2. a clouded mind and a heavy heart

Woman | Joel Miller x Reader

Series Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: No, Joel Miller isn’t stalking you. He just knows what you do every night.

Tags: Joel Miller x Reader. Age Gap. TV characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: swearing, grief, talking & illusions to death & loss, references to cannon events & violence & other topics.

Words: 2419

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Joel looks out his front window. The sun dips past the mountain tops. You live next door to Tommy and Maria’s place presenting him with the perfect view of your front porch. You walked out 30 minutes ago, breathing in the fresh air, before setting out on a walk.

It’s a warm Monday night. He opens his window to let in the breeze while he waits for you to start your third and final lap. The promise of summer floats into the house.

While he hasn’t talked to you since that day in the clinic, he’s picked up a lot in the week he’s been here. You have a toddler, a boy named Carter. Tommy shared that piece of information. Joel remembers you had a brother named Carter too. Tommy didn’t respond when he asked about the boy’s father. You either feel comfortable enough to leave Carter sleeping in the house or his father is a shut-in, but he also notices the facing windows left open between yours and Tommy’s house. Maybe he’s out on an extended patrol.

Every night since he’s come back, you walk 3 laps. It’s so normal in a life before Cordyceps way, so suburban. He remembers you walking the block with your parents, friends, and sometimes Sarah.

He watches you every night, curiosity piqued. Tonight you step out in a fucking pajama set: a thin green shirt with matching shorts that show off your legs. He ignores the tug of desire, not quite recognizing it at first. He’s grown unfamiliar with it in the last year. There hasn’t been time for silly things like that, or anyone around. Besides, where does someone find a matching pajama set these days?

His feet carry him out to his own porch without thinking. You’re just about to start your final lap when you spot him. You raise your hand in a friendly wave. Again, it takes Joel back to the old way of life: polite waves and nods when you pass people, block parties with people you only talked to twice a year. Joel hated small talk then- still does, but he’d been raised not to be rude.

The wave isn’t an invitation by any means, but Joel finds himself meeting you in the middle of the road. You haven’t talked since he came into the clinic last week. He wasn’t home when you brought over the device to help his hand.

“Howdy neighbor,” you say.

Joel cocks his head to the side. Another slice of life. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“Haven’t used that one in a while.” You mimic his movement. “How’s the hand?”

Joel instinctively rubs his thumb through the palm. “It’s alright.”

“You doing those exercises?”

Joel looks back at his porch, his thumb now moving across his bottom lip. He seems to be contemplating something. He looks almost out of place. You’ve never seen Joel Miller not hold command of the space he occupied.

“So, I’ll take that as a no.”

He bristled. “Say, would you care for some company? On your walk.”

“You stalkin me, Miller?” You cross your arms.

You know your routine is predictable. Most people in Jackson know you walk every night weather permitting, but the idea of getting Joel Miller to admit that he noticed it stirs a sense of pride in you.

Joel contemplates his words carefully. “Saw you walk out earlier. Looked like you might be going for another lap.”

Of course, he won’t admit it. Maybe one day you’ll pull the confession from him. “Wouldn’t mind a little company.” You step into motion and Joel follows.

You walk until the houses end, the cow pasture coming into view. They’re farther out tonight, looking like ants in the distance. Joel is quiet at your side, but the company is nice. You haven’t had company in a long time.

The two of you walk the fence line. You stare out at the pasture, toward the mountains as the breeze dances in your hair. You push it out of your face and in the dying light of day, Joel notices the fading light flicker off the gold on your left hand. He turns his head out toward the field clearing his throat. Shut-in husband it is. “So, how long have you been in Jackson?”

You wrap your arms around yourself. The gold band glares at him in his periphery. He didn’t see it on you at the clinic. Not that it matters. It doesn’t matter.

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

Joel looks surprised. The Jackson settlement hasn’t reached its 9th birthday yet.

“My grandparents had a vacation house a couple miles north of here. I was there with a group of friends when the outbreak hit. Jackson was already pretty quiet. Everyone who was here either panicked and left, or got loaded up by FEDRA.”

“No infected?”

“A few, but we took them out pretty quickly.”

Joel nods. “You avoided the evac crews.”

“We were at the house. It’s far enough out that we weren't in their search perimeter. My friend Kerry went… we told her not to.”

“Do you know if she made it?”

You shake your head. “We told her she couldn’t contact us, or tell anyone we were here.”

“Smart.”

You shift your weight from foot to foot. “How did you get all the way to Boston?”

Joel shrugged. “Just happened.”

“Tommy’s version was much more thrilling than yours.”

“Well, it’s Tommy.” He stops, leaning against the fence. The wind jostles his curls. He reminds you of a farmer looking over his herd.

Your hip rests against the fence post. You take in his profile. He’s still a beautiful man you think and then you toss the thought to the cows wary of the trap set before you.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you say.

“Sounds like you already know.”

You nod. Tommy doesn’t talk about it much, but you’ve pieced things together over time, holding Maria’s hand when she came to you in crisis after Tommy told her.

“It doesn’t bother me, Joel. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It should bother you.” He says. “Should bother me.”

“Survival is a cruel game.”

Joel’s eyes finally land on yours. Something charges in the air. It sends electricity crackling through your bones, igniting something you haven’t felt in a long time. You swear he’s reading your thoughts.

You turn, heartbeat pounding in your ears, and head back on your well-worn route. You don’t know what to do with those feelings. Joel follows.

“You managed out here for 12 years? Alone?”

“After Kerry left, there were four of us: Anne, Denise, and my brother, Carter. We raided the houses around us. We found some stores that were relatively untouched. Everyone else left with the evac crew.”

Joel wracks his brain trying to remember meeting people by those names. You pick up on it. “They’re all gone. Infected or killed by raiders-” it’s been a long time, the death of your friends was hard, but losing your brother was the hardest. You push the memories back.

You can’t finish the sentence, even after all these years. Joel doesn’t ask you to. It’s the ending you’ve both encountered too often in this world- one less seat around the table.

Joel nods. The two of you fall into silence, but you’re okay with it. The quiet is nice. There’s a thrum of liveliness coming from the Tipsy Bison. A group of kids gather to play a game of kick-the-can out by the pasture in the growing dusk.

You catch Joel’s eyes roam around, absorbing it all.

“They even have town dances.”

You can’t quite pin Joel’s reaction. Bewilderment perhaps?

You remember the weirdness of it all. The Jackson group had fun, even before settling within the protective walls. It was an adjustment for you too.

You’d run like a fawn when the group came through. Maria sent a few people after you. Gabe was the one who tackled you in the autumn leaves. You landed a killer kick to his kidney and a fist to his eye before the others caught up.

They’d welcomed you into the group after assuring you were alone and a non-threat. They’d thrown a party after securing the original gated community. You can still see Gabe standing in front of you, hand outstretched smiling ear to ear with his swollen, purple eye. He wore it like a badge of honor. It sends a pang through your chest as your thumb plays with the gold band around your fourth knuckle. You haven’t been to a town dance since his death.

You finish the loop, drawing to a stop between your front doors. Joel turns to face you. Something flickers in his eyes, disappointment maybe. You wonder if he’s as lonely as you are.

His eyes lock with yours and you feel that charge again. The air seems to thicken, and you do the unthinkable. You let the trap snap. Just a small one, one you can control.

“You wanna take another lap? I bet we could fit one more in.”

Joel pauses. He’s never seen you do more than 3 laps. He feels the charge too. He’s playing with fire. The ring on your finger says so.

“Your husband okay with that?”

“If he wasn’t, he shouldn’t have died.”

Your own answer shocks you. It shocks Joel. Then, it creeps up on you, growing slowly- Gabe’s laughter. You know it’s all in your head, but he would have appreciated the humor. It spreads through you until the bubbly laughter escapes your mouth.

Joel tilts his head to the side. He can’t explain the way his chest feels lighter. “I'm glad you find it funny.”

He wonders if you catch the tension easing from his chest and the way his lips til upward. He doesn’t fully understand it yet, but he knows there’s something brewing inside him. Eight months ago, he would’ve run for the hills, and shut down whatever feelings he had, but it’s like opening up the gates for one person cracked it for more, but he’s still cautious. More people to care about is just more to lose. Ellie has him worrying enough as is.

His mind drifts to Tess- how he could never tell her what she wanted to hear. How he could never feel what she felt. Sure, Tess was like family to him; he cared for her in ways that were beyond a friend. Partners seemed to best describe it. He mourned her loss, but he’d shoved any greater feelings away long before that.

“I really don’t.” It spills over again. You cover your mouth. Joel raises an eyebrow. “It’s just that- he would’ve loved that joke”

Joel chuckles. You embrace the laughter, feeling lighter than you have in years. Tears gather in the corner of your eyes, forcing you to wipe them away.

Joel wants nothing more than to keep that smile plastered to your face. He recognizes it. It’s the very one Sarah used to pull from you. He needs it, craves it. Because now that he’s seen it again, he has to make sure it stays.

“Sounds like he had a good sense of humor.”

You manage a nod. “He sure did.”

“And Carter is okay?”

You cross your arms. “So you know I have a kid and his name? You sure you’re not stalking me?”

“Tommy told me.” He kicks at the dirt feeling a little silly. “He didn’t mention your husband.”

You bite your lip. “He and Tommy were close. They patrolled together, drank together, caused trouble together. They were like brothers.”

Joel nods. There’s a little stab in his chest with the reminder of the years he lost with Tommy. He sits with the feeling until it eases. He’s thankful for the family Tommy pulled together here.

You start on the additional lap without warning, but Joel follows. You’re unsure if you should open up. Do you want to open up? Does Joel want to hear it?

“He called me Doleful.”

“Your husband?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “Gabe would say- Doleful: the eighth dwarf that never was- that’s you.”

Joel’s eyebrows furrow, a deep crease forming between them. “That doesn’t seem very flattering.”

“It wasn’t- but it suited. I didn’t smile hardly ever. Didn’t joke.” You think back to the times before the group settled here, after your brother’s death. You don’t know how you kept on or why. “He made it his mission to made me laugh.”

Joel tried to picture it. You and Sarah were always laughing about something. You took Tommy’s shit and returned it, but he knew how this world changed people. “How long has it been?”

“2 ½ years.” It comes out so quickly. You imagine you could give him the number of days or hours if he asked. “I feel like I’m just now coming out of the fog. If it weren’t for Carter-“ you don’t let yourself finish the sentence, but you know you’d be a mad woman pacing your house like a ghost for the rest of time.

Joel nods. “Took me 20 years to come out of it. That ache never really goes away.”

You meet Joel’s eyes with a nod. “No, I guess I doesn’t.”

Your final lap comes to a close in silence. Lights from front porches illuminate your path home. You find yourself slowing your steps, extending your time together, but it’s not enough. You stop where you met, Joel turning to you.

“Thanks for letting me walk with you. I enjoyed it.”

“Anytime.” You wrap your arms around yourself. The thin pajama set provides little protection now that the sun is gone and the breeze has picked up.

Joel nods. You think you catch his eyes travel over your body. Warmth ignites inside you at the thought.

His voice seems to deepen. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” He says, turning back towards his new home.

The nickname is oxygen to a flame creating a raging fire inside you. Chills rush across your skin. He’s called you that before, offhandedly, years ago in another lifetime. It had been completely innocent then: a side effect of living in the south, but you still melted whenever he did. This is different. Whether he intended it to be or not.

He’s already reaching for the door handle when you call out.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Joel looks almost surprised, but manages a nod. “Same time tomorrow.”

You don’t see the trip wire leading to the biggest trap of all.

[cock-holliday]

On Thursday, August 24th, a 21-year old pregnant woman was accused by a Kroger employee of stealing liquor in Ohio. The cops that went after her shot and killed her as well as her unborn child.

Accused means guilty, not responding how the cops want means resisting, trying to flee cops means trying to kill the cop, and guilty of a crime means that your death is warranted. Two lives lost over some booze. Absolutely inexcusable. And forever fuck that rat ass Kroger employee. I hope your name comes out too.

I hope Ta’Kiya Young’s family finds peace, or support and comradery through their rage.

The body cam footage won’t be out until Monday and it’s unclear due to pig protection laws when or if the killers’ names will be made known. Keep one another safe.

[ddejavvu]

jonathan anon again lol!!! I love him so much. how about him introducing shy!you to his mom <3 ur super nervous she won’t like you but she totally adores you

Jonathan's stepped up to slot his keys in the door, and you consider using the time he's not paying attention to you to make your escape. You could do it, beeline back to his car, hotwire it, drive off into the distance with no planned return. But then he might have to walk to school, and you don't want him to have to do that. Before you can decide to sprint anywhere, the lock clicks, and the door swings open at his push.

"Mom," He calls into the house, rather unceremoniously, which makes you nervous, "I'm home, and I brought Y/N!"

"Oh!" A voice comes from the kitchen, honey-sweet but slightly flustered, "Oh, I'll- I'll be right there!"

"Jon-!" You swat at Jonathan's shoulder, hissing at him in a panic, "You said she knew I was coming!"

"No, I said she said you could come over anytime," He corrects you, dropping his backpack on the couch, "So I brought you over today."

This is a disaster. You're now an unexpected, barely-invited guest in the Byers household, and only your boyfriend really wants you there. You've met Will a handful of times, during pick-up or drop-off or just out and about, and he seems to like you, but you're sure he doesn't want you popping up in his living room unannounced. You'd been invited for dinner by your boyfriend, but you're not sure his mother has made enough, so you're not only intruding on their life, but you're putting the extra stress of another mouth to feed on her plate, and she's going to hate you for the burden you're causing, and-

"Will you stop burning holes in the wall? That's a picture of me, you know," Jonathan scoffs, tramping over to where you'd been zoning out to panic and pulling the frame off of the wall, "You're supposed to think I'm cute."

"That's- That is cute," You wanted to respond with a lot more fire than that, due to the nature of your boyfriend's planning abilities, but admittedly, the baby photo of him in nothing but a diaper is adorable. You can see the chubby rolls of his arms and legs, and his stomach pudges out in a round shape you're sure his mother kissed a thousand times.

"-but this is not fair to your mom! She probably didn't make enough, and now I look rude for showing up unannounced, and-"

"She always makes more than enough," He assures you, setting the picture frame down on the table and taking your hands in his. He has a way of looking at you while he speaks that calms the frantic beating of your panicked heart, and you let yourself get lost in his comforting aura for a moment. "She makes one giant meal on Monday nights, then we eat the leftovers until Sunday. Your one portion will not destroy the fabric of the household, Y/N."

"But it'll be one less portion for someone else," You fret, and you know his resulting glare is meant kindly.

"Will has a bad habit of sneaking into the kitchen for midnight meals. You'll just be preventing me from waking up to hear the microwave at one in the morning, babe. You're doing everyone a favor, here. Plus, my mom really wants to meet you. She bugs me every day about bringing you here, just because you're unexpected doesn't mean you're unwanted. Okay?"

You hear frantic footsteps from the kitchen, and nod before she has a chance to catch you in a freak-out, "Okay, Jon, okay."

"Okay." He grins at you, turning in sync with you just in time to see Joyce round the corner out from the kitchen, stuffing an apron onto the counter that she's clearly just taken off.

Her face lights up when she sees you, especially when she notices that Jonathan still has one of your hands in his own. She rushes for a hug, gushing "Hello!", and you're happy to let her engulf you in her embrace.

"Hi," You return just as enthusiastically, if not a little nervous, "Hi, I- I hope I'm not intruding."

You ignore the way Jonathan huffs out a sigh at your near-apology.

"No! No," Joyce pulls back from the hug, keeping her hands on your shoulders and shaking her head, a deep frown over her features, "No honey, not at all! I mean," She brightens, eyes wide, "I was really starting to think he'd made you up, or something! I mean I've been asking for ages, I- I was starting to worry." She concludes, a little drearily. Jonathan had admitted that he was nervous to bring you over in case you were expecting something better, something nicer, something newer, but a newer house with newer contents wouldn't hold the memories you see so plainly here, and you look around to admire the photos displayed.

"It's wonderful here," You promise, feeling Joyce's hands drop to your own and squeeze, "I've never seen baby pictures of Jonathan."

"Oh, I have a bunch." She grins, and Jonathan pales beside you.

"She's seen one!" He attempts to diffuse her excitement, "The- the one on the wall, mom. She's seen me in a diaper, isn't that enough?"

"No, she needs to see you in your Donald Duck Halloween costume," She insists, "After dinner- we're having spaghetti, honey, I hope that's okay." She cuts herself off to peer worriedly at you, and you nod vigorously.

"Oh, great! Okay, after dinner, I'll get the photo albums down, alright? And we can make fun of him," She looks far too eager to tease her son, "Does that sound good?"

"That sounds great," You laugh, at the same time Jonathan groans the opposite.

"Oh, stop," She swats at his chest, "You get to see her all the time, now let me take over."

"Not if you're gonna embarrass me!" Jonathan gripes, turning to you, "Y/N, don't hold my preschool drawings against me. I've gotten better with time, I swear."

"He hasn't," Joyce stage-whispers to you, then gushes to Jonathan, "Of course you have, sweetheart."

She's tugging you off to the dinner table without another word, and you glance back with a grin at Jonathan who looks half-mortified and half-fond.

"Now, sit," She pulls a chair out at the table for you, "And talk, I wanna know everything about you!"

[professional-demon-master]

Cutting you off pt. 4

Satan

Light angts/comfort. Good ending! Gender neutral MC.

* Satan was an explosive person, most of the time he tried, really hard, to control himself in front of you. At least that’s what you wanted you believe.

* But when he has bad days… you knew it was better to leave him alone

* Today you hadn’t seen him at all though, so when you encountered him in the HoL library you really didn’t notice the way his hands were clenched in the book, or how his lips were pressed together Ina stressful way.

“Satan! I missed you today! Where were you? It was weird being in hexes without you!” You plopped in a seat in front of him. Satan looked up, still frowning but trying to look more relaxed for you. “Just busy, lots of homework”. “Yeah, tell me about it”, you got up to get a book, one you’ve been reading for a couple of days know, thanks to Satan’s own recommendation. Satan returned to his book, trying to concentrate in it to reduce his wrath.

“What’s your book about?” You took your prior sit, Satan exhaled. Breathe.

“Just a mystery novel.” “Sweet” “Mhm”

“Oh! Did you knew that…” “STOP!” You looked at Satan with a puzzled expression, not even able to verbally respond. “You come, waltzing in, like you own the place and won’t leave me alone, you just won’t shut up!” Satan stoop up Ron his place, book long forgotten. “Ugh, you’re just so clingy sometimes. You’re irritating! You make it so hard to stay in control!” He stopped talking when he looked at you and your big eyes looked back at him with a hurtful expression. He wanted to apologize, he really did, but he was still too angry to act completely coherent. “Mc…” you got up, trying to look as collected as possible, and got out of the library, closing the door behind you. “Fuck…”

That same day, at your usual bedtime, Satan appeared in your room. Apologies and explanations escaped his mouth as soon as you opened the door, and they went on until you stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder and taking it back almost immediately .

“You hurt me Satan. And I know you try really hard to stop yourself when you’re like that but it isn’t the first nor it will be the last time that you call me annoying and clingy for existing on the same room as you. I’m sorry but no, I don’t want your apologies. They’re empty for me”

* After that incident, and his failed attempts to get you to talk to him again, Satan kept on trying to find ways to make you forgive him.

* He cooked your favorite human realm food the day he had dinner duty . They rarely did it since some of the ingredients were fairly expensive and difficult to find in devildom, but still, there it was in front of you, spaghetti carbonara, presented like it was from an expensive restaurant. You felt your stomach growl, but after taking just two little tastes you gave offered it to Beel, who accepted it without hesitating. You could feel Satan’s gaze fixated on you during the whole exchange of words with Beel, but still, he remained silent.

* Next day, you noticed hot coco in your place during breakfast, your favorite drink. You knew this had to be Satans doing so the drink stayed there, untouched.

* You even spent the weekend at purgatory hall. The brothers weren’t excited about the news, but you felt a slumber party was the perfect excuse to avoid being in the same house as Satan for at least a couple days.

* On Monday morning you met with the brothers at RAD to exchange hellos and a couple hugs that lasted a little bit too long. They acted like the first time you came back after a week at the human realm.

* Since Mondays you walked home from school with Satan, you decided to pass the time until Beel finished fangol practice so you could walk with him.

* With limited possibilities, you ended up in the library trying to do a little bit of homework to avoid letting your mind wonder into analyzing your gutted feelings and how much you missed Satan this past days.

* The library appeared to be alone, so you took this as your lucky day to be able to spend time alone without the brothers having to take care of you.

* You were too concentrated picking a book to feel the eyes that were following your every move. It wasn’t until you felt a breath in your neck and an arm appeared at the side of your head that you turned around quickly.

“Oh… uhm, hi” you said nervously while trying to move from their imprisonment.

The demon kept his eyes on you, a smirk appearing in his face as he saw you trying, and failing, to escape.

“It’s so weird finding you here. Alone” he smelled your hair. “Without the avatars around you”. You felt your breath getting caught in your throat as you saw him getting closer. “I-I will summon them” cursing yourself for stuttering, you raised your hand to try and position it in one -any- of your pacts, but he grabbed it before you could even register it. You frowned, getting almost as mad as you were scared, you tried to take your hand back. “Let me go!” “You’re feisty, aren’t you?” He got as close as he could, bumping your nose with his, you could notice his fangs showing every time he spoke. “That’s okay, I like that, makes it more entertaining.”

You were trying to look for a way out as his tongue licked your cheek. You closed your eyes in disgust. What should you do? Hit him with a book? Step on him?

Suddenly the icky feeling in your cheek stopped and it was replaced by just a crashing noise and a growl, you were pushed in the sudden movement and feel to your knees. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” You recognized Satan’s voice automatically. He threw a bookcase at the lesser demon. You could see his shoulders go up and down with every breath, filled with wrath; after a couple of seconds where the other demon just stayed on the floor complaining, Satan turned to look at you.

You didn’t knew if it was because you were on your knees, if it was his stoic demon form or the aura of wrath surrounding him, but you could sense the power he emanated with his mere presence. His hand in front of yours took you out of your trance; you took his hand and as soon as you were on your feet he pulled you close. His hand cleaned the side of your face the other demon had licked prior to Satan’s appearance, he turned his head to look at the other demon, you could see the fire in his eyes, burning to take out his anger in the other demon.

“No! Leave it!” Satan turned to look at you again, a bit taken aback “please, I just want to go home. He’s not worth it, and I’m okay now” You pleaded, hands grabbing his clothes in little fists in an attempt to keep him close to you. After a while he exhaled, “it’s okay, kitten. We’ll go home.” He caressed your cheek. He took your hand, before he started walking he looked back, anger invading his factions again, “you’re so lucky she’s here to stop me from destroying you, but I’ll find you again, piece of shit.”

* You arrived the house of lamentation, and ever since you stepped foot in the house, Satan stood by your side, comforting you, prior fight long forgiven, but still in the air, making you feel like there was something pending between you two.

“Satan?”

“Mhm?” He answered without interrupting his lecture, his other hand still caressing you, playing with your hair in a relaxing way.

“I’m sorry for holding a grudge to you even after you apologized, it was dumb of me”

The blond man closed the book at fully looked at you now, “what are you talking about? Don’t apologize. You were completely right.”

“But, you saved me today, and I just…”

“Still, I was an asshole to you the other day, you had every right to be mad at me.”

You smiled, rearranging your position in his chest to keep on talking. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll always be there to save you”.

[f1-stuff]

Body swap??? 👀👀👀

Took me ages to respond to this, but have no fear! Bc a 1k snippet is here... -> WIP game

This has to be a dream.

It’s the only reasonable explanation - the only explanation that doesn’t make him feel on the verge of a panic attack. Except, of course, that he doesn’t remember if he’s ever thought to himself, ‘this is a dream,’ while actually dreaming. But there’s a first time for everything, right?

He’s been staring at the reflection (his reflection?) in the mirror for twenty minutes now, thinking or hoping that somehow, he’ll blink and it won’t be Carlos Sainz staring back at him anymore. 

He pinches himself. 

Nothing.

He splashes cold water on his face.

Nothing.

He leans in closer, poking his cheek, rubbing his eyes as if the problem is his vision. All it succeeds in doing is getting an eyelash stuck in his eye that he then spends the next ten minutes cursing and trying to extract, eye red and watering.

“Hello,” he says. And it sounds like Carlos. “What the hell is going on?”

If this is a dream (nightmare, he corrects), then it’s the realest fucking dream (nightmare) he’s ever had.

He really has to pee.

Instead, he strides back into the bedroom, finding the source of the alarm in the pocket of a pair of jeans on the floor. The phone unlocks when it sees his face (Carlos’ face) and he finally silences it, his fingers awkward and too large on the screen and- fucking, not his. The hotel room plunges into quiet.

Until the phone in his hand pings, and he looks back down to see a text from ‘Charles.’ From him. But not from him because he’s right here. Which means...

Charles: Are you awake?

A shiver goes down his spine.

He throws on the jeans, a nearby discarded shirt, and some shoes, and marches down the hall (rather clumsily) toward his actual hotel room - the one he’d fallen asleep in last night and the night before that and the night before that. The room he’s been sleeping in since they arrived in Australia on Monday, and the room he was supposed to be leaving from this morning. In less than an hour, in fact.

He knocks on the door. It opens.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, but who would’ve thought, it’s still shocking to see his own face staring back at him, even when he expects it.

“Mierda,” Carlos says. Carlos as Charles. Carlos in Charles’ body and in Charles’ voice, cursing in Spanish like it’s second nature, as natural as breathing.

“My thoughts, exactly,” Charles says, right before Carlos tugs him inside and shuts the door.

They stare at one another for an extended beat, eyes blinking in disbelief, heads spinning.

“Okay...” Carlos says.

“Okay? What do you mean, ‘okay’?” Charles says, baffled at the reaction.

“I don’t know! I just- I didn’t mean ‘okay’ like...”

“What the hell is going on, Carlos?”

“Just...breathe, Charles,” he says, holding onto Charles’ arms and guiding him to sit on the bed. “We will figure this out.”

“How? What is ‘this,’ even?” 

“Well...” Carlos raises his brows, but it’s Charles’ brows. He gestures between the two of them. “We are...switched, no?”

“Obviously,” Charles groans, covering his face with hands that are slightly bigger than he’s used to. “But how, Carlos? Did something happen last night, or...?”

“I don’t remember anything.”

“I don’t either,” Charles says, sighing, and dropping his hands to his lap. His knee is vibrating up and down rapidly, heel tapping against the floor.

“What is wrong with you?” Carlos asks.

“Me?”

“You are vibrating, practically.”

“I’m trying not to have a panic attack, Carlos,” he nearly shouts, then takes a breath to calm down. “And, also, I really have to pee.”

“Well, fuck, then do it!” Carlos says, gesturing at the bathroom.

“But...” Charles trails off, flushing a bit in embarrassment. 

“Oh, come on, Charles,” Carlos groans, in sudden understanding, rolling his eyes. “We have all the same parts.”

“I know that!” Charles mumbles, his face flushing even darker. “It is just...personal. I don’t know.”

“Well, things are going to get pretty personal so...” Carlos throws his hands up, and Charles can’t get over how it feels to watch his own body doing something his mind hasn’t instructed it to do. “Unless you want to get even more uncomfortable, you’re going to have to pee, mate.”

“Fine,” Charles says, striding off into the bathroom and shutting the door.

After undoubtedly the weirdest two minutes of his life thus far, he emerges from the bathroom with a red face, collapsing back onto the bed.

“Oh, look. You survived,” Carlos says, deadpan.

“Asshole,” Charles mumbles, avoiding eye contact.

He expects Carlos to maybe make a joke - a 'did you like what you saw' type remark, or something similar. But he doesn't. And instead, they fall into a tense silence.

“We have to leave for the airport in twenty minutes,” Carlos says, eventually. Charles sighs. “And I’m pretty sure we both need to shower and pack-”

Oh, god, Charles thinks. And I thought peeing was gonna be weird. The fact that he’d need to eventually shower had clearly slipped his mind. The mental image of Carlos showering in his body - washing himself and...everything else. It made Charles’ stomach flip over nervously.

Carlos must see something in his expression because his voice softens with his next words.

“Charles.” He waits until Charles meets his gaze. “If you’re not comfortable...with me-”

“No, it’s okay,” Charles interrupts, quickly. He’s aware that he’s making this weirder than it needs to be. It’s just showering. And what’s the alternative? Neither of them shower for the rest of...however long this lasts? “You’re right. We should shower and pack, and then...I don’t know. Figure this out in Maranello.”

“Okay,” Carlos says, nodding.

There’s a beat where neither of them move.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Charles says, awkwardly, standing and moving toward the door.

But before he gets very far, “Don’t forget my computer on the desk! Or my razor by the sink. Or-”

“Do you want to just do it yourself?” Charles interrupts, raising his brows. “Let’s pack our own shit.”

“Oh, right,” Carlos says, nodding. “Good idea.”

They swap room keys and then, belatedly, phones and phone cases, so that they can have their own phones but not raise suspicion. Then Carlos, looking like Charles in every physical way, walks out of the room to pack up his things in Carlos’ room.

This is gonna be so confusing.

Right, so...one problem at a time.

[dmwrites]

“Cleo, what time is it?”

Cleo pulled out her pocket watch. “Why Joe, I believe it’s noon.”

“And it’s Monday! You know what that means!” Joe began to furiously type into his communicator.

“You know Joe, you could, like, pre-type this out so you don’t have to stress it every Monday at noon.”

“I hear you, but honestly, I’d probably end up hitting send by accident, and then who knows what might happen.” Joe said very seriously.

<joehills: Happy Monday hermits! HHH is starting now until 2. Does anyone need any help?>

“So I’m guessing no one has approached you with an HHH job?” Cleo asked.

“Nope.” Joe sighed. “Well, if no one needs anything, we can weed the community garden.” He said, indicating to the long-ignored garden at spawn. “You know what I was thinking about the other day?”

“What’s that, Joe?” Cleo sat down on the ground.

“You. More specifically, how you’re dead. Even more specifically, I was wondering if your zombie body could be used as fertilizer. Now hear me out-”

“Hello Cleo And Joe Hills!”

Joe was cut off by a loud voice, and he and Cleo turned around to find King Ren standing on top of the community tent, holding a megaphone to his mouth.

“Howdy King Ren!” Joe said, doing his best megaphone impression by cupping his hands around his mouth. “Do you need any help with anything today? Hermits Helping Hermits is happening and helping until two today!”

“Oh Joe Hills, You Read My Mind, Baby!” Ren dropped down in front of them and patted Joe on the back. He lowered his megaphone and leaned in conspiratorially. “So, when you say Hermits Helping Hermits, I was wondering, does that helpage have limits?”

Cleo stood up and crossed her arms. “Hypothetically no, but it’s at our discretion. Like, we won’t rub your feet.”

“Okay, what about murder?” Ren whispered, covering the mouth of his megaphone just in case.

Cleo and Joe looked at each other, Cleo raising an eyebrow and Joe shrugging.

“Yeah I guess, HHH can help with that until two. I’m always down for a bit of murder.” Cleo said. “Who’s the target?”

“This shouldn’t take long. The soup group dudes are the targets: Impulse, Gem, and Pearl. I have received wordage that they plan to remove me and my crown from power, and that just won’t do! I need them gone!”

“Sure thing, king guy.” Joe said. “Any particular way we should do the murdering?”

“No, I’ll leave that up to you.” Ren said. He lifted the megaphone back to his mouth. “King Out!” He flew away, the megaphone screeching and making the king whimper.

“Right, well, I guess the weeding can wait another week.” Joe said.

“Tragic.” Cleo said, although Joe wasn’t sure she was actually sad about not being able to weed the garden. “Shall we?”

“Now Cleo.” Joe said, stopping her from taking off into the sky. “This is not some simple matter. This is going to be a two against three fight if we aren’t prepared. Also, forgive me, but didn’t Pearl brutally kill you in double life?”

“Yeah, yeah, and Gem’s won an MCC.” Cleo sighed.

“What about Impulse?” Joe asked.

Cleo considered the question. “Impulse is a sweet guy.” She finally said.

“So we should go for him first?”

“Oh, definitely.” Cleo said, pulling out her knife. “Can we go now?”

“We need potions- invisibility, maybe strength…” Joe reminded her. “That’ll be easy, we can get them from Cub, then we can go.”

After stocking up on potions, food, and weapons, Cleo and Joe took off for the soup group’s area.

“Pearl’s landscape is gorgeous…” Cleo sighed.

“This whole area is super well-done, let’s not kid ourselves. We’re in the presence of masters of the craft.” Joe responded, and they landed in a tree to scope out the situation. “Where could they be?”

“Oh, look, nametags!” Cleo whispered, pointing to the huge blue-topped mushroom in the middle of Pearl’s landscape. And indeed, there were three nametags up in the bulb of the mushroom. “That must be them!”

“Okay, invisibility on!” Joe whispered. They both drank the potions. “I’ll hold my sword in my hand so you can see me, Cleo. We have to be super sneaky- I’m sure they’re expecting assassins.”

Cleo and Joe snuck their way across the alien landscape, tiptoeing around bushes and pausing as a cat seemed to take notice of them, but passed by after a while. They stopped to drink more invisibility potions when they needed to, and when they finally got to the mushroom base, they each drank a strength potion. They made their way up the stairs, and right at the door to the top, they could hear Impulse’s rumbling voice, Gem’s sweet tones, and Pearl’s Australian accent.

Joe looked to Cleo, as they were visible now, and nodded his head.

“SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS!” Cleo shouted, brandishing her sword.

“Howdy yall, Hermits Helping Hermits here helping as we always do in this mushroom!” Joe said at the same time.

Pearl, Impulse, and Gem were gathered around a round table, all stunned for a second.

“What’s going on?” Impulse asked.

“We’re going to kill you!” Joe cried.

“Joe! Subtly, remember?” Cleo called to him.

“Oh, right. Darn it. We’re not going to kill you!”

Pearl scratched her head. “What?”

Cleo leapt at her and pinned her to the ground, knife against her throat. Joe raced forward and just kind of barreled into Impulse and Gem- Gem got knocked over, but Joe just kind of bounced off Impulse’s chest. So, he pointed his sword at Impulse instead.

“We have been asked to kill you by the king for plotting against him.” Cleo said. “Which is a service that HHH apparently provides now.”

“Wait…” Joe said suddenly. “Hey Cleo, what time is it?”

Cleo held onto the knife with one hand and pulled out her pocket watch with the other. “Huh. Looks like it’s two o’clock, Joe.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Joe put his sword away. Well, Hermits Helping Hermits is now over, so I guess we’ll be going now.” He helped Gem to her feet. Cleo got off of Pearl and dusted off her dress. “Bye guys!” He waved, and he and Cleo walked out of the mushroom and flew off into the afternoon light.

[spinthetags]

Santas and giftees have been assigned, and wishlists have been sent out! We’re thrilled to announce that we ended up with a total of 37 participants! As of today, the creation period has begun; you now have until January 5th to complete your gift!

In the meantime, however, please make sure to read the rest of this post! There are some important notes for participants, as well as some expectations for responding to your received wishlist.

1. Please make sure to pace yourself when creating your work! Even with the long creation period, it can be easy to leave it to the last minute and run out of time. We suggest starting your gift as early as possible to ensure you have all the time you need to make something that you are happy with!

2. As a reminder, the due date for withdrawing from the event is November 23rd. If something comes up (it happens to the best of us), please let us know as soon as possible so we can reorganize and find a new Santa for your giftee! We won’t hold it against you!

3. This is the most important thing on this list! Each participant must respond to the email we sent by Monday, November 13th, and the response email must contain your Tumblr username. This is both so we can associate your Tumblr account with your email, and so we know your email is functioning and that you received your wishlist. If you do not respond to our email by November 13th, we will assume you are unable to participate, so please either do it immediately or set a reminder!

4. This is somewhat related to the previous one. Once your giftee gives us their Tumblr username, we will send it to you! If your giftee’s wishlist contains an AU/new kid/headcanon that can only be found on their Tumblr, you can either sit tight or create something that doesn’t require knowing their account.

4a. As for why Tumblr usernames were not initially collected; we wanted to make sure that we received the Tumblr username straight from the source (the user), and to prevent any bias. We’re sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused!

5. We unfortunately cannot guarantee that you receive art instead of fic, or vice versa. You are able to create your wishlist, but the way your Santa brings it to life is up to them! Preferring one medium over another is absolutely understandable, but we ask that you please appreciate your gift regardless of how it was created! Your Santa worked hard on it.

6. Once wishlists are assigned to their Santas, we are unable to make any switches! Exceptions will be made for if its an error on our part — like if you put something in your discomforts section, and was assigned a user where that was the only thing on their wishlist — but in general, we request that you do your best on what you’re given, even if its not something you’re used to! Your giftee will appreciate your effort regardless.

7. Do not reach out to your giftee! The point of Secret Santa is to be anonymous. If you have any questions for your giftee, please reach out to us — either by Tumblr or email — and we will reach out to your giftee to get an answer. Just remember that there are 37 of you and only one spinthetags, so please keep your questions reasonable!

8. As a reminder, you are only required to make one creation! Your giftee may have a large wishlist, but you are absolutely not obligated to include everything from the wishlist; you are welcome to pick the thing that you are most confident in your ability to create, and work off of that! Including multiple things from the wishlist is awesome, but absolutely not necessary.

9. If you have not received an email from us and you signed up, reach out to us immediately! There may have been a typo in your email, and we want to correct it as soon as possible! Note that if you received an email but not a wishlist (as your giftee is still in the process of editing theirs), this doesn’t apply to you; we’ll have your wishlist to you within the next few days!

If you have any other questions, please reach out or shoot us an ask! We’re so happy to have you all involved, and we can’t wait to see what you create!