#y’know I’ve never been on a train

[daydadahlias]

AWWWW i'm touched that you were worried !! i usually send the gm on the train on my way to work but i don't work on the weekends so i get to sleep in a bit!!!! just a fair warning that i'll probably be sleeping in again tomorrow (and every other weekend) hehehehe maybe i'll start adding an emoji when i send a message so u know it's me <3

ur actually not allowed to sleep in ever again sorry :/ unless you wish me a good morning every day in a timely manner I’ll die

[spyderschaos]

Look I’m still sorta new to dnd so idk much about what I can and can’t do but will that stop me from giving hiccup his dragon blade? No it will not

[void-tiger]

…that moment when you’re quite literally told to Love Yourself, For GOD’S SAKE in front of the class 💀

[srslyscary]

things they’ve said // ot8

things bf!skz has said to you

Including: bang chan, changbin, hyunjin, lee know, seungmin, han, felix, jeongin

Bang Chan

; “you’re too cute for this world, Y’know?”

; “don’t doubt yourself babe. you’re amazing in my eyes.”

; “not every day do you get to wake up to a gorgeous gal.”

; “I know it’s late, but check out this track I made— yeah it’s about you, what about it babe?”

; “stain my face with your pretty lips baby, I want everyone to know I belong to you— yeah with that new lipstick you bought, it’s a cute color. perfect for complimenting my face.”

; “i have seven kids and now they’re also YOUR seven kids.. deal with it, hah.”

; “you’re shorter than me, so your love capacity isn’t as strong as mine. it’s physically impossible for you to love me more babe.”

; “I can’t take my eyes off you. you’re just too pretty— I’m not trying to be creepy!— no— Y’know what I just won’t look at you then.. hehe.”

; “you deserve the universe.”

; “it’s kind of hard to unlove you sweetheart.”

; “it’s only been 2 minutes how do you already miss me.”

; “baby all I wanna do is see you. and do you.— just kidding… or am I?”

; “my goal is to keep you happy all the time.”

; “I love you because you’re the best. intellectual wise I REALLY would hate for someone to touch you lovingly like I do.”

; “excuse the fact that we’re locked in for life and you can’t go anywhere without me- HAHA.”

; “I got addicted to you very easily.”

; “I think I’m just in love with everything you do.”

; “I love you. I don’t think I said that enough today.”

Changbin

; “y’know what we should do? go have a picnic and watch the sunset. wouldn’t that be nice?”

; “you’re always pretty jagiya. you’re especially pretty without makeup.”

; “i’m tired. let’s cuddle, kay? I wanna feel you wrapped up in my arms, I’ll know you’re safe with me then.”

; “I literally just can’t have enough of you.”

; “I’ve been looking at pictures of you for the last 30 minutes—“

; “I like you mostest— no I love you. I’m IN love with you.”

; “wanna ft and eat together?”

; “You’re perfect to me. You always will be— it’s not cheesy it’s the truth!— accept my compliments right now!”

; “stop being stingy and give me more kisses! I’ll die if you don’t smother me— it’s true my doctor says so!”

; “your presence heals me.”

; “You’re like my healing wave and my bright sun.”

; “I can’t even describe in words how sexy you are right now- you’re just- WOW.”

; “FOOD DATEEEE! YAYYYY!”

; “I want you in every way that there is to want a person.”

; “You’re sweet, and hot.. good mix in my opinion.”

; “you should stay up.. I wanna keep flirting with you.”

Hyunjin

; “I wanted to talk to you. I miss your voice and your laugh, and your pretty face.”

; “my love, you could be more discreet if you’re trying to scare me— USING MINHO AS A SCARE TACTIC ISN’T FAIR EITHER!”

; “I’ll be as sassy as I want. Now give me a kiss I’m craving them— yes I’m on my period now hand them over or else.”

; “jokes on you, you’re my number one priority right now. the boys can wait a little while longer.”

; “I wanna stay up and talk to you.— What do you mean no?— that’s too bad, you’re not my mom.”

; “you mean more than the world to me.”

; “I don’t care who he was. he was looking at you the way I look at you. and I should be the ONLY person to look at you like that— cmon love.”

; “I’m physically craving your touch right now— I just want to sock you in the face and then kiss it right where it hurts— I’m joking I love you!”

; “I always wanna be by your side angel.”

; “You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

; “I’m painting you love, what else would I be doing?”

Lee Know

; “you literally captivate me. your eyes especially. I could spend hours looking at your pretty face and never get bored.”

; “one day I’m gonna train my cats to come beat you up.”

; “I’m gonna punch you in the mouth. With my mouth. Softly.— yea I’m going to kiss you.”

; “stop saying things that make me want to kiss the hell out of you. it’s not funny— don’t laugh!”

; “I want your lips, I want your everything. or rather- I want you here so I can hold you.”

; “when I talk to you.. it’s like talking to my best friend. except I love you and I get to kiss you all over and all that cool stuff.”

; “your stubborn ass is never gonna listen— also I love your ass. literally.”

; “I’m really just.. fucking soft when it comes to you.”

; “yeah babe. you’re really pretty. the prettiest.”

; “You’re literally dreaming i didn’t say that— how’s that gaslighting?!”

; “you make me think of a love song every time I look at you.”

; “baby, just kiss me.”

; “Sure, we can get matching outfits.”

Seungmin

; “you look so innocent but I know you’re not— that makes me weak.”

; “I can tell you so many times how pretty you are, because you’re my pretty puppy and no one else’s.”

; “kinda wanna take you out for dinner— what I’m just saying?”

; “relax pretty puppy, I’m all yours.”

; “I wanna see you drunk off my kisses.”

; “I just like whacked Han in the back of the head and he started crying- funniest thing ever.”

; “we look cute together, don’t you agree?”

; “let’s live together, I hate everyone else except you.”

; “you haven’t talked to me since 12:03pm. I’m lonely. talk to me babe.”

; “it’s not like I hate going out. I just hate everyone else gets to see how pretty you are.”

; “didn’t you say you liked these?— yeah I got ‘em for you.”

; “babe, you’re constantly reading that. what is it?”

; “wanna come watch me practice?”

; “that dress is cute babe, you should get it.”

; “You’re so stupidly cute, it’s getting annoying.”

; “babe, I love you— but stop trying to get me to buy you that dog.”

Han

; “BABE GUESS WHAT— I love you!”

; “hi beautiful, I hope you had a good day!”

; “You’re so cute babeeee, you literally make my heart melt.”

; “wake up I miss you.”

; “baby, have I ever told you how pretty you are?— mhm! the prettiest.”

; “You’re all I’ll ever need.”

; “daily reminder that I’m so in love with you-!”

; “I woke up and the first thing I wanted was you.”

; “this pretty face is all mine— mine to kiss and stare at and compliment.”

; “my favorite thing to look at is you of course!!”

; “TODAY REMINDS ME OF YOU— BECAUSE ITS HOT.”

; “I got butterflies when you called me pretty.”

; “I stay up just to talk to you babe.”

; “girl the only side chicks I got are your other personalities.”

; “You’re always on my mind, duh.”

; “honestly my mom would be so proud of me if I brought you home.”

; “you have me on some foreign level of happy.”

; “why is it that birds chirp to communicate? let’s chirp to communicate baby! — IT’S NOT WEIRD IT’S NATURE.”

; “how’s your day going my beautiful future wife?”

; “face time meeee, I’m with the boyssss, they wanna say hi to my girlll!”

; “I want you. Only you.”

; “just kiss me and don’t stop.”

Felix

; “good morning angel. sleep well?”

; “I want all of you forever. you and your perfect face, your perfect body, your perfect personality.”

; “me and chan bought ice cream! wanna share with me?”

; “BABE THERE’S A SPIDER— oh right.. yeah I’ll kill it-“

; “so you’re saying you saw a cat and your first thought was to text me about it?— god I love you.”

; “you just have me so whipped. I’d do anything for you.”

; “sunshine, can I tell the boys about you?”

; “You’re my entire universe, and whatever is beyond that.”

; “such a pretty face, can’t believe I get to kiss you and call you mine.”

; “of course I made you some brownies! why wouldn’t I?”

; “when I kiss you it’s hard for me to stop.”

; “I love you with my heart baby.”

; “don’t get jealous baby you own my heart, I’m all yours.”

; “I wanna marry you already. I want a house, a dog, a weird grocery list, everything baby.”

; “why are you staring at me, huh beautiful?”

; “You’re really cute when you’re nervous.”

; “I’ll be over in five with pizza. Sound good?”

Jeongin

; “I’m so proud of everything you do lovely!”

; “proceed with caution you might burn down the kitchen.”

; “You’re literally my dream girl.”

; “I was just thinking about you— and our future.”

; “the thought of us kissing won’t leave my head-“

; “I miss you, call me?”

; “You’re cute.. we should be cute together!”

; “stay called me a peach.. do you think I’m a peach lovely?”

; “I don’t care what you wear, you’re beautiful either way.”

; “there she is— the girl of my dreams.”

; “I wanna be your every thought, every second of the day.”

; “I text you when I miss you.. which is all the time.”

; “can I tell you something? don’t freak out.— I love you.”

; “Sorry im busy! I’m discussing future wedding plans with your mom!”

; “you hungry lovely?— scratch that I know you’re always hungry, let’s go to that cafe down the street.”

; “send me videos of you— why would I want nudes? — no send me videos of you being silly and singing!”

; “I’m glad I met you too, you’re the best thing to happen to me.”

[stylesloveclub]

Prose (part 2)

In which not many students attend Harry's office hours, and y/n's kind of burnt out.

+++

“What’s that drink you’re always drinking?” Harry asks, sitting across from y/n in his office.

She’s the only student to show up to his office hours this week (again), and had come to ask about the first essay that’s due next week. While she types on her computer, writing down all the notes that Harry just gave her on her first draft, Harry finds himself staring at the iced drink sitting next to her laptop.

“Oh, it’s just an iced chai. I’ve been getting two pumps of pumpkin spice syrup in it recently though, since Starbucks has their fall flavors now.”

“Hm. I’ve never tried the fall drinks.” He twirls his red pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair comfortably. “M’always too scared to try new drinks, y’know? Like what if I don’t like it? Then I’d have wasted five bucks and I wouldn’t even have a coffee to get me through my day.” He pouts to himself at the thought of it, and y/n finds it terribly endearing.

She’s happy to know that Harry is seemingly very comfortable in her presence, prattling on and on about the simplest of things – like coffee orders and his favorite food places on campus. When she first walked in, the first thing he’d asked her was her favorite place to grab lunch on campus, since he was starving and one of the other TA’s had offered to drop off some food for him. His personal favorite was the bagel place (he could have a cream cheese bagel at any time of the day, he told her), but that place closes early, so he was stuck between getting mexican or sushi.

Y/n advised him to stick with the burritos – her ex-roommate once got food poisoning from the sushi. Never trust the on-campus sushi, she warned.

“M’kinda like that too,” she responds once she finishes up her essay outline. “I usually just always get the chai, ‘cos I know I’ll like it. But sometimes I’ll be adventurous with like, the syrups I add, because it doesn’t really make a difference. Like right now, I have pumpkin spice syrup in here, and I can barely taste it so even if I didn’t like it, it’d be fine.” She takes a sip to somehow prove her point. “I just like adding the pumpkin for the fall vibes.”

“Is fall your favorite season?” he asks. It’s been a lot of this – Harry asking her questions, getting to know her. She wonders if it’s because she’s the only one who shows up to his office hours and, therefore, is the only person whose ear he gets to talk off – or if he genuinely is interested in her. The thought of it makes her heart want to do a backflip, but she kindly tells her heart to CALM THE FUCK DOWN before she starts getting carried away in her train of thought. Harry’s just a nice guy! A nice guy, who talks to her about books, and shares his umbrella, and gives her rides home when it’s rainy outside – and has pretty pink lips, and pretty green eyes, and pretty brown curls.

“Yeah, I think so,” she hums.

Her crush on him seems to grow more and more every time she sees him, like those tall annoying weeds that you constantly have to dig out of a pretty flower garden. The type of weeds that seem to grow back even stronger each time you cut their roots and spray anti-weed chemicals on them to ensure that they don’t come back. She’s tried to smush those bothersome butterflies in her stomach, continuously reminding herself that he’s just her TA. That he’s just being nice. That he just calls her smart, and tells her that she’s doing a good job, and praises her discussion posts because that is literally what a Teaching Assistant is supposed to do. But whenever he smiles at her with that boyish dimple and his eyes glimmer all sweetly and romantically and thoughtfully – well she just can’t help it! She’s given up and has let the crush invade her brain like the invasive garden plant that it is.

It’s just a harmless little crush, she rationalizes. Just a little fantasy of kissing him here and there to get her through her boring lectures with Dr. Richmond – nothing wrong with that, right?

She clears her throat, “What’s your favorite season?”

He stares up at the ceiling, pursing his lips thoughtfully, “Hmm… probably spring. I like seeing the flowers bloom, especially after a snowy winter.”

Oh, of course he likes seeing the flowers bloom. He’s a walking piece of poetry.

+++

Harry stands at the front of the classroom, lecturing once again. It’s the same as before – fourty-ish college students hanging onto every word like his words are a waterfall and they’re a group of dehydrated travelers.

He loves teaching, loves seeing the way his students’ eyes light up with wonder when he explains a certain theme or points out a new motif. He’s more than happy to hold their hand through the novel, be their guiding light through the Romantic era. Their questions make his day, and he’s beyond happy to see that, now that they’re a few weeks into their course, the students are opening up.

“Victor is so caught up in his experiment,” Harry lectures, “that he begins to ignore nature. Victor says– ‘The summer months passed while I was thus engaged, heart and soul, in one pursuit. It was the most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature.’ So what role does nature – or should I say – the lack of nature, play for Victor?”

Four hands shoot up into the air (relieving considering how last week he could barely get anyone to say anything). “Katie, right?” He smiles when she nods, and gives an exaggerated, celebratory fist pump that makes all of his students chuckle. “Told you I’d start getting your names down! Go ahead, Katie.”

Although he’s laughing and smiling – practically beaming since he and his students are getting along and actually discussing (instead of just him lecturing them) – he can’t help but feel a little pinch of sadness in the back of his mind. As his eyes scan over the seats, he can’t manage to find y/n in the class. He’d searched for her three times already – wondering if he accidentally missed her, or if she was hidden behind one of the tall boys near the front – but he couldn’t find his star student. He missed catching her eye, giving her sly winks and watching her duck her head down stifle a laugh. It kept him entertained whenever he had to sit through Dr. Richmond’s lectures, and he liked hearing her talk. Not only does she add amazing thoughts to their class discussions, but she also is just… nice to listen to.

“Good… I love how you said that Katie,” Harry carries on, “He embodies the corruption of nature in the quest for glory. And we already know how highly the Romantics regard the beauty of nature – their artwork is meant to connect us with the world, isn’t it?”

He wonders if she’s okay. She isn’t hurt or anything, is she? Did something happen to her on her walk to class?

“He’s disrupting the natural cycle of life, basically destroying nature, by trying to play God and create life himself–”

Y/n, as quietly as she can, sneaks into the classroom. She’s 15 minutes late, which isn’t late enough to just completely ditch the lecture, but still late enough to raise a few eyebrows. Of course, being the clumsy duck she is, she accidentally knocks the trash can over with a loud bang. She winces at how loud the sound is, and feels her cheeks turn hot when all eyes turn to look at her.

Harry turns as well, and can’t help but smile to himself – there she is.

He continues with his lecture, as if nothing happened, but watches as she hurries over to her set spot in the third row. She messily pushes her hair out of her face as she sits down, pulling the pull-out desk in front of her and grabbing her laptop from her bag. She types in her password quickly, and pushes the sleeves of her white cardigan up her arms so that they aren’t in the way. Her eyes briefly flicker upwards to the projector to see what she missed – but instead she accidentally catches Harry’s gaze, who’s already looking at her.

All of a sudden, Harry loses his train of thought. His eyes flicker between hers, and she stares back at him. They’re stuck like that for a moment – just the briefest moment – before he realizes that words are no longer coming out of his mouth and that the rest of the class is staring at him expectantly.

His cheeks tint pink. “Um… sorry, what was I saying?” He chuckles at himself embarrassedly, shaking his head at himself – it’s not often that he stutters over his words. But, luckily, it was brief enough to just pass as a slight fumble. Nothing too suspicious.

Harry tears his eyes away from y/n and resumes with his lecture. But somehow, as delusional as she might be, y/n can tell that that moment was something more than just a slight stumble.

+++

“I got this for you,” y/n says, standing in front of Harry’s desk, placing the iced drink down next to his pile of papers.

Harry furrows his eyebrows and sits up straighter. “What?”

“It’s a pumpkin iced chai… the same one I usually get. I thought, since last time you said you didn’t wanna waste five bucks trying a new drink–”

“Are you mental?” he interrupts.

She blinks. “Huh?”

“Why would you go on and waste five of your dollars instead?” he huffs. “Christ, y/n, don’t be silly, m’not letting you buy me a coffee. How much was it, let me pay you back–” he’s reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, but y/n is quick to refuse.

“No, don’t worry I didn’t pay for it! Starbucks has this thing– it’s like, if you buy one fall drink you can get a second one for free, but it’s only on Thursdays after 12. And I was gonna get one for myself anyway, so I was like– might as well just get the second one for free so that you can try it and not waste five dollars.”

He pauses, his wallet half open and a five dollar bill pinched between her fingers. He squints at her, “Are you lying?”

She gives an exasperated huff, “Why would I lie?!”

“I dunno, maybe you’re trying to butter me up with drinks and stuff so that I’ll grade your essays easier – which won’t work by the way! M’not easy to bribe!”

She rolls her eyes and plops into the seat across from him. “Please. If I was gonna try and butter you up, it would’ve started five weeks ago, when classes actually started. And I probably wouldn’t be in your office hours every week groveling over these stupid essays.” She lets her bag fall to the floor and blows the hair out of her face. “Y’know, Dr. Richmond does not explain the politics of 18th Century Europe well enough to expect me to write an entire essay on ‘the effects of globalization on romantic era literature.’ I signed up for a literature class, not European history. When are we gonna start writing essays on Frankenstein and feminism?”

Harry goes to respond, but right at that moment he takes a tentative sip of the drink that y/n had forced onto his desk. He cannot hide the grimace that graces his face.

Her eyes round out and her eyebrows pinch. “You don’t like it?” she says with a pout.

His lips smack together a few times, trying to get used to the taste of pumpkin in his mouth – but he actually really cannot stand it. “God,” he says, his nose wrinkles and his tongue aching for some water to wash away the pumpkin-y after taste. “What a waste of five dollars.”

“Oh my gosh– I did not spend five dollars on a drink for you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he pushes the drink to the edge of his desk, the sight of it making his tummy turn a little bit (he really did not like that pumpkin flavor mixed with milk). He then states the obvious, “You were late today.”

“Yeah. I overslept.”

He tsks, “What happened to the punctual Miss y/n who showed up twenty minutes early on the first day of classes?”

She sighs, “Dunno. Was up kinda late last night. And then I guess I snoozed through my alarm.”

It’s only then that he notices the dark circles under her eyes, and how her face is missing that usual radiant glow. He’s so caught up in her smile and her eyes, that he nearly missed the exhaustion leaking off her body. “How late?” he inquires.

“Um… like 3 in the morning.” Harry gapes at her, and she shrugs.

“Tha’s not healthy,” he scolds like a father. “Why’re you staying up so late, hm? Should be in bed for at least 6-8 hours, don’t you know that?”

“I know,” she rubs at her eyes tiredly. “I just have a psych midterm next week that m’really freaked out about. I like– fell behind on the lectures, so m’trying to learn like the past three weeks of material in a few days.”

Harry feels his heart ache, sympathizing for this poor, tired, hard-working girl. He knows the struggles of undergrad – he was pulling all nighters too, back in his day, and he never dared to go above 16 units. He wonders how she’s surviving, taking 20 units while still being at the top of her classes – well, she’s at the top of this class, he knows for certain. His star student.

Her eyes are still hidden behind her hands, knuckling at her eyelids, but she pulls them away slowly when she feels Harry’s hand at her knee. She looks at him, and he’s suddenly aware of how red and glossy her eyes are. “Just don’t overdo the studying, okay?” he says with soft eyes and a gentle voice. His thumb rubs overtop her knee softly, saying a hundred words that he can’t say out loud just quite yet.

She nods, and swallows thickly. “Okay.”

He smiles. “So you want a crash course in European History? I can do that for you. Dunno why more people don’t show up to my office hours, m’literally about to tell you exactly what to write…”

+++

Y/n is exhausted.

Actually, exhausted doesn’t cut it. She is at her breaking point.

With midterms week upon her, she’s been drowning herself in her school work, trying to keep up with her lectures and recap everything that she’s learned up until this point. Kind of difficult, when she’s fallen so dreadfully behind and barely knows what’s going on in her stats class. And – to make things worse, not only does she have both her stats and psych midterm this Friday, but she also needs to finish this stupid Globalization essay by tomorrow’s deadline.

Seven pages about The Effects of Globalization on British Romantic Literature. She currently has three pages written.

She’s screwed.

It’s not like she was trying to get behind! She tried so hard to stay on top of her studies. She promised herself that she’d finish the globalization essay last night – went to starbucks with her noise canceling headphones, got herself an iced pumpkin chai as a motivational treat, and sat down to turn all her notes into a beautiful, magical essay on Romanticism that would make Dr. Richmond weep.

But… the words just weren’t wording! Her brain refused to cooperate with her, despite the fact that she stayed at the Starbucks literally up until they kicked her out. She read her sources, went over her excerpts, wrote and rewrote her thesis over and over again… and only got three out of the seven pages done. She doesn’t know whether to blame Dr. Richmond for assigning such a stupid essay, or just her own sleep-deprived brain.

She’d gotten maybe five hours of sleep last night. And the night before that, too. Harry’s words ring loudly in her head, scolding her to get at least six hours of sleep every night… but she just has so much work to do! She has to do her psych readings, her stats homework, the midterm practice her stats professor posted, and this essay… It's a lot. Plus having to actually attend all of her classes and go to work (she works at the campus bookstore) on top of all her homework and studying? She barely has time to eat!!!

Her tummy grumbles miserably, a painful reminder of the fact that she had forgotten to pack herself a lunch this morning in her haste to get to class on time. The pain is nowhere as bad as her headache, though. It’s the kind of migraine you get when you barely got any sleep. Her head feels heavy, her heartbeat pounding in her ears, and her eyes sting every time she blinks. It’s horrible. She can barely focus on anything. Not her stats homework, not the essay open in front of her.

Not even Harry, who’s sitting to her left, helping her with her essay. In fact, she’s completely missed what he’s spent the past minute explaining to her.

She blinks at him slowly. “Sorry… can you say that again?”

Harry’s pretty face pinches, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes glimmering with concern. She’s so clearly off today… he can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes and zoning out any longer. “…are you okay?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.” But it’s like as soon as she says those two words, the dam holding her together collapses, and a river of emotion comes barreling through her. She looks down at the open document on her laptop, stares at the cursor blinking at her. The blank page taunting her. Tears well up in her eyes, and her heart starts to swell sadly. She’s not fine at all.

She quickly hides her face from Harry, looking down at her lap. She is NOT allowed to cry in front of him, she reprimands herself. She’s kept herself together all day, why is she starting to get emotional now, in the middle of his office hours? Couldn’t it have waited until she was alone in her shower?

She swallows around the lump in her throat, and presses her palms to her stinging eyes. As if that’ll keep her tears at bay. “Sorry,” she mumbles, trying to conceal her shaky voice, “let me just think for a second.”

“Hey…” Harry sees right through it. “Hey, come on. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, mostly trying to convince herself. She sniffles as quietly as she can and tries to rub the tears away. “Sorry, nothing. I’m fine.”

She reaches for her laptop, but Harry grabs her hand. “No.” He can’t ignore the glossy sheen of her eyes, or the quiet sniffles. He just can’t. “We need to take a break.”

“It’s really fine–” she tries to say, but she can barely get it out with how her throat is swelling. She stares down at the floor. Harry holds her hand.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me.” His hands are big and warm, encasing her’s, wholly. A cross tattoo sits between the slit of his thumb and second finger, twitching as his thumb grazes her knuckles.

“M’just tired,” she says dejectedly. “I was up super late last night and I just… didn’t even get anything done. And now I have to finish this, and I haven’t finished my stats homework, and I have two midterms on Friday.” Her heart starts to race as she realizes much she has to do, and how little time she has. She’s stretched herself thin. “There’s just so much I have to get done,” her voice cracks, “and I’m so tired.” A big fat tear rolls down her face, and drops onto her shirt – shamefully staining the thin material.

Harry gets out of his chair and kneels down in front of her, resting their joint hands in her lap as he stares up at her. More tears fill her eyes without her consent, and her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Sorry,” she sniffles. She refuses to meet his gaze, despite how earnestly he’s looking into her sad eyes. Another drop falls from her lashes.

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs sadly.

“I thought I could handle it all,” she bleats. “But I’m so unprepared for my midterms, and I need to finish this essay, and I promised you that I’d stay on top of my work, but I’m falling behind–”

“Don’t worry about the essay,” he interrupts. “I’ll get you an extension on your paper.”

She shakes her head. “Dr. Richmond doesn’t do extensions, though,” she blubbers.

“I’ll talk to him,” he says firmly. “M’the one grading it anyway.”

“But Harry–” she whines, shamelessly childlike, “I promised you that this wouldn’t happen. I told you I could handle it.”

“And you can handle it. I know you can.” His green eyes are wide and round as he looks up at her, earnest and pleading. “You come to office hours, and you study hard, and you’d stay up all night to finish this essay – but I don’t want you to. You don’t have to prove yourself to me. I know you can do it.”

She pouts, still not looking up at him. She stares instead at their joint hands in her lap blankly.

“You’re doing so good,” he coos, “You’re coming to office hours even when you have so much going on, and you’re taking so many units. I know you’re giving it your all. S’okay.”

He reaches a hand out to rest on her shoulder, and suddenly she feels the weight of the world fall off of her chest. A long, shaky breath leaves her, and she blinks her eyes shut, letting more tears cascade down her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart,” Harry’s heart breaks. He leans up to wrap his arms around her shoulders, a soft hug, and she rests her forehead on his shoulder, letting the tears silently fall. His hands rub big, soothing circles on her back, and he shushes her softly, “It’s alright.”

His blue dress shirt feels cool against her face, crisp and fresh, and he smells like vanilla and smoked wood. She doesn’t want to abandon his firm chest, his warm embrace, but he pulls back and looks into her eyes. For the first time, she meets his gaze. “No more crying, okay?”

She sniffles, and wipes the wetness off her cheeks. “M’kay.”

A soft smile smooths out the worried lines on his face. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he says, his hands slapping his thighs as he stands back up. “You’re going to take a nap–” he closes his office door and locks it with a click.

“A nap?” her watery voice exclaims. “But– I need to study!”

He gives her a firm look. “You’re not gonna get any studying done if your brain isn’t well rested.” From one of the bottom drawers of his desk, he pulls out a blanket (he sometimes will take a nap in his office if he needs a break from grading). “Take a nap. I’ll wake you in an hour and then y’can study in here.”

+++

You know that peaceful feeling that surrounds a room when a baby is taking a nap? How everyone tiptoes around the crib, their voices barely surpassing a whisper in fear of waking the sleeping baby. How parents will stand around, just watching the baby nap, smiling to themselves when their baby twitches in its sleep. How the world just seems more… peaceful?

That’s how Harry feels right now.

Y/n is on his couch, his cozy gray blanket pulled up to her chin. Her cheeks are puffed, her tired eyes shut with her eyelashes resting delicately on the tops of her cheeks. She looks angelic, the most relaxed he’s ever seen her be, with no midterms stressing her out. No papers due, no furrowed eyebrows, no crying. Like a sleeping baby, cherubic and sweet. He’s been tiptoeing around her for the past hour, grading papers as quietly as he can. He tried to be productive and just mind his business while she napped, but everytime he shuffled through one of the essays, he felt the urge to check on her, to make sure that he didn’t accidentally wake her up. And then he just wanted to… watch her. Not in a creepy way though!!! Not in a creepy way. In a kind of… sweet way. :( She was beautiful, especially when she slept.

His heart doesn’t want to wake her up – not when she looks so peaceful for the first time weeks. All the times he’s seen her since that very first week was her stressing and stressing and stressing – stressing about getting a permission code from Dr. Richmond, stressing about her exams, stressing about the rain. He’s never gotten to see her take a breath and be calm. She’s a hard worker, he can tell – which is a great trait that he admires in his students. But, with y/n… he just wants to make sure she’s okay, too.

He kneels down in front of the couch, and regretfully murmurs out, “y/n?” She doesn’t respond at all– she’s dead to the world. All the exhaustion that she’d accumulated this past week, all the hours of sleep she missed, are catching up with her now. He tries again, “Y/n… time to wake up.”

Her eyebrows furrow and her nose wrinkles, but she still refuses to open her eyes. The pull of sleepiness is too strong. It makes him chuckle. “Come on, bunny,” he says, in reference to her twitchy nose and pouty lips. “V’got a snack for you.”

Her sleepy eyes blink open, and immediately he can tell that she needed that nap. Her eyes are brighter, less red, and she stares up at him sweetly. “A snack?”

Of course that would get her to wake up. His dimple pokes his cheek. “S’not much. Just a granola bar. But it’ll help you while you study.”

She sits up, the blanket pooling around her waist, and rubs at her eye with her knuckle.

“Feeling better?” He asks, a hand on her knee.

She nods. She’d taken an Advil for her headache before she’d gone to sleep. That, with her nap, has made the prospect of studying a little bit more bearable.

When she looks around the room, she sees that Harry’s cleared up a portion of his desk for her to study at. Gone are his stacks of books, a bare square of wood right across from the stack of essays he’s currently grading. The usual foldable chair that he has students sit in during his office hours has been moved to the corner, and has been replaced with one of the more comfy, rolly chairs. He’s gone out of his way to make a sweet little study space for her while she napped in his office.

“Now… we’re gonna have to leave by 9,” Harry says, standing up and going round to his side of his desk. “Cos v’got to feed my cat. But that gives us at least… two hours of study time. N’then I can take you home. How does that sound?”

She blinks. “Harry… thank you.” She doesn’t know why he’s being so nice to her, or what she’s done to deserve such kind treatment. But it means the world.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but she doesn’t miss the dimple that pinches his cheek as he smiles to himself.

+++

They stay in his office until nightfall.

Harry’s nicely styled curls turn messy, his fingers tangling through his hair he graded the freshman papers (is he a harsh grader, or does this new generation truly not know how to write?). His eyebrows furrow behind his tortoise shell glasses, green eyes hard and serious. Y/n watches the way his lips purse, how he taps his red pen against his chin while he reads.

Her own brain is done with studying. After her nap, she started playing her classical music and sat down to finish her stats homework AND the practice midterm. Without the globalization essay to worry about, she managed to calm down and focus, get some of her work done, and catch up on the things she was so behind on. Does she feel any better about the exam? No. But at least she can say that she studied!

Harry manages to make a nice dent in the stack of ungraded papers as well, working well in the comfortable silence filtering between the two of them. There was no need for them to talk, and they didn’t distract each other either. Simply getting their work done next to each other, and enjoying each other’s presence (though neither one of them would outright admit how nice it is to just sit in silence with the other).

They pack up and head out together when it gets closer to nine. Harry holds the office door open for her and locks his door behind them, and they walk closely together towards the parking lot. It’s dark, the ground only lit by the few streetlights looming above them, and a shiver racks through y/n’s body from the cool autumnal air. She hadn’t planned on being on campus so late – she thought that she’d probably go straight home after office hours and pull an all-nighter to finish her essay – so therefore, she doesn’t have much of a jacket except for a lame cardigan over her shirt.

Harry, who usually is on campus until nightfall anyway, wishes he could do something for her when he notices the way she’s hugging herself, her cardigan pulled over her fingers. He wants to pull her to his side, wrap an arm around her and share his body warmth with her – but that would be entirely too unprofessional, he thinks. Instead he picks up his pace, forcing y/n to scurry in order to keep up with his long strides, and immediately turns on the heat for her.

He doesn’t need to ask for directions this time, knowing exactly where to turn and how to get to her apartment, and when he pulls up in front of her door, he turns to her quietly. “Listen. Don’t stress about the paper. Focus on studying for your exams, and then you can have the entire weekend to finish the paper, okay?”

“I feel… bad. Like, Dr. Richmond said no extensions, and you’re making these exceptions for me–”

“Don’t overthink it,” Harry interrupts. “Dr. Richmond just says that so people don’t just ask for extensions because they procrastinated. He will grant extensions when there’s a valid reason.”

“But, really it’s not a valid reason… everyone else has midterms.”

“But none of those other students have shown me how much they care about this class. I know you’re a hard worker, I know you aren’t just procrastinating.” He shrugs, “M’the one who makes the calls. And I think you deserve an extension.”

She sits there quietly, then says, “I-I just don’t want you to think I only came to your office hours to cry and make you give me an extension. I… come to your office hours for help. You’re like… helpful.” She says that last part awkwardly, and it makes him chuckle quietly.

“You can say I’m your favorite TA. I won’t tell.” His dimple pokes his cheek as he smirks at her teasingly, and she can’t help but giggle too. Her eyes twinkle as she looks at him with a small shake of her head. That wasn’t what she was getting at… but it is true.

They stare at each other for a moment too long. One of Harry’s hands rests on the wheel, while the other one comes up to play with his lip. Y/n’s hands sit politely in her lap, her bag sitting at her feet on the passenger’s seat floor. They’re both quiet, not knowing what to say. Yeah, they’re laughing and teasing each other, but something heavier lingers in the air around them. This tension… this magnetic energy. Neither y/n nor Harry know what’s causing it, or why the silence is suddenly so overwhelming. The smile on y/n’s face lingers in her eyes, which glimmer as she stares at Harry. And Harry, who had been smirking mischievously, now looks at y/n with a bit of a more serious air. He stares at her thoughtfully, his bottom lip pinched between his lips. His eyes wander down to her lips, pretty and heart shaped. She’s chewing the inside of her lip softly, and he wants to brush his thumb over her mouth and tell her to stop.

He catches himself, and quickly tears his eyes away before she notices. He clears his throat.

“Take care of y’self,” he says with a soft smile. “I want to see you well rested in class next week, okay?”

+++

HOPE U GUYS LOVED IT!!!!!! part 3 is up on my patreon already, and will come to tumblr next saturday (oct 21) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u rhink and give her a rb and a comment i love u guys so so much!!! more tarry to come!

Prose (part 3) is already posted on patreon! : In which y/n is Harry's favorite student, and she sort of somehow accidentally kisses him.

Prose Masterlist

[thebellearchives]

Hi there! I came across your prompt event, and it looks really exciting! Could you possibly do fluff prompt for Gojo Satoru?

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

~ satoru gojo ; jujutsu kaisen

✧˚ · . S Y N O P S I S : you find yourself studying satoru’s eyes and notice tiny details you hadn’t really seen before

‧₊˚ c o n t e n t s : gn!reader, fluff, friends to lovers ?? but not really ??, lots of flirting and playful banter though ~

‧₊˚ a / n : aaa i’ve been wanting to write for Gojo for a WHILE i’m so glad i finally get the chance ~

also, you forgot to specify which prompt so i took the liberty to choose 1.“I never noticed your eyes were this [colour].”, hope you like it !

prompt list

The train’s swift motion almost lullabied you to sleep. It had been a while since you had felt so tired. Satoru was right next to you, still holding that almost indelible silly smile in his lips as he watched the sky through the window.

He wore his dark glasses today, his silky white hair down, and you could peek at his pretty eyes behind the glass. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen his eyes before, of course you had, so maybe it was just that feeling of tiredness tugging from your clothes and holding you down into your seat. Yeah, it had to be that. Otherwise you wouldn’t be staring as if you had gotten lost on your way home. But his eyes were just fascinating, they almost matched the bright blue summer sky he was staring at, and at the same time they could also match the ocean in a clear moonlit night.

Your friend probably noticed the linger of your eyes on him, so he turned to you.

“What are you looking at?” he didn’t stop smiling.

“I just had never noticed your eyes were this colours”

His brows raised until they almost met.

“Colours? In plural?”

“Yeah. Sky blue, cerulean, indigo...”

For a second he remained still, until your words finally downed on him and he leaned closer to you, a wide teasing grin tugging from the corner of his lips.

“Were you counting shades of blue in my eyes?”

You frowned, fatigue quickly leaving your body and a blush tinting your cheeks slightly.

“Shut up” you fixed your posture in your chair, turning away from him in annoyance.

“Oh you’re so in love with me.”

“You wish.”

“That was so romantic! Tell me more, how many colours can you spot, hmm?” he bumped your shoulder with his, playfully.

“I’m so stupid, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I’m never gonna let you live it out sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that, you’re such a womanizer.” rolling your eyes, you rested your chin on your hand.

“WHAT?!” he flinched, placing a hand on his chest dramatically “That’s so not true. I mean yeah sure women love me, but that isn’t my fault y’know? I can’t help having this beautiful cerulean, indigo, azure eyes.”

“I never said azure.”

“Oh but I bet you could find that shade, why don’t you take a closer look?” he leaned in closer to you once again.

“Satoru!” you pushed him away from his chest, embarrassed at the way people in the train were starting to throw looks your way.

“What?” he whined “had enough of my eyes?”

“Had enough of you in general.”

“My poor heart” he pouted, his back now resting against the window “you’re breaking my heart.”

“Good” you mumbled, your white haired friend chuckled.

“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed like that”

It took you a second to process the words you had just heard, your eyes widened and your heart started racing. If you were going to get back at him this was your chance, so you immediately smiled, it was your turn to lean close to him then.

“You think I’m cute?”

Satoru didn’t flinch, he didn’t react, in fact he didn’t even hesitate at all. His face moved close to yours instead, fair hair brushing your forehead. Flustered, you wanted to pull back, but your pride wouldn’t let you. Delicate and complicit closeness with the sorcerer almost felt like an alluring drug.

“I happen to think you’re the cutest” his whisper prompted a shiver to run down your body, blood quickly rushing up to your cheeks again.

You bit your lip and sighed as the train carefully came to a stop.

“There’s no winning against you, right?”

“Not a chance” smirking, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back onto your feet, guiding you outside.

[jojissalsa]

Dangerous Game (part one)

you get a new job as a federal agent for the F.O.S, and now you're stuck dealing with the reckless D.S.O agent, Leon Kennedy.

Warnings: dom/older!Leon, sub!reader, slight age gap (reader is in late 20s, up to y'all), dirty thoughts, masturbation (f and m). this one is fairly tame. kinda.

WC: 2.8k

an: hey y'all!! i'm hoping to make this into a 3 parter, felt like my idea is a lil too big for just one fic, that's why this one is probably a tad more tame compared my previous stuff. as per usual, critique, reposts and requests are welcome! enjoy <3 (minors do not interact, go touch grass.)

Working for the Field Operations Support is fairly easy, you got a nice seat at the front desk as the receptionist, you’ve worked there for a good couple of years. Nothing crazy ever happened, and everyone respected you pretty well. Especially Hunnigan. Well, Ingrid to you, Hunnigan to your coworkers. You always respected her the most, always envious of her job. You initially applied for her job, but you could take being a receptionist. You could live vicariously through her, since she seemed to like you the most in and outside of work. Hunnigan was always so sweet, giving you a pleasant smile and a morning chat whenever she’d come in for work, bringing you lunch as you two got closer. That also opened the door to lots of girl talk, mainly about how stressful the job was sometimes. Hunnigan loved her job, truly, but it came with heavy challenges. A very heavy one would be Leon Kennedy, a D.S.O agent she’s worked with for a majority of her career.

You’ve heard some of the horror stories from her about the bioweapons, insidious cults and rich white guys that try to carry on Umbrella’s work but fail miserably every time. This time seemed a bit different though, more final for her. “Honestly, the guy is an idiot sometimes. Likable, but an idiot.” You snicker at how nice she’s being for how pissed she looks, angrily sipping her coffee from the breakroom. “I think you mean he’s a lovable dumbass, but I guess that works too.” You chuckle softly, stirring sugar into your own fresh cup of coffee. “Hey, I’m serious this time. I mean, come on, I’m getting older.” Hunnigan watches as you sit down across from her, a worried expression starting to take over your features. “You really think it’s time to call it quits?” “Maybe not quitting just yet, just maybe looking over a different agent. Spots are starting to open up y’know.” Your eyebrows shoot up at that, trying to hide your excitement as you look down to sip your coffee. “Well, maybe I can take your spot? I’m pretty confident, and I’ve done all the training.” She shares your new found excitement, reaching out to put her hand over yours. “I’ll pull some strings, okay? I think we both need a change of scenery.” Her sweet smile never fails to spread to you, you can trust her. She’s been your best friend, if you’re being honest, and you’re sure she shares the same sentiment.

It didn’t take long for those strings to be pulled, and soon you were standing in front of the President and a few other important men in nice suits, watching as you shake hands and smile awkwardly. Finally, you get a briefing on the infamous federal agent you would be helping. Leon Scott Kennedy. He’s got a good reputation with everyone in the room, saying that while he may have an “eccentric” personality, he’s a hard working man, compliments all coming from the President. You heard about it from Hunnigan and a few other agents that he saved his daughter from a deathly cult, and brought it all down in the same day. You could tell from his file that he clearly worked a lot, even if he didn’t get this job on his own violation. Sucks that he was forced into his life, but it’s good that he’s making it work. Seems like a good looking guy too, at least from the small picture of him clipped to the folder.

And now you’re waiting for that good looking guy to walk into your new office, setting down a few knick-knacks you had on your previous desk. You turn your head to the sound of someone walking in, your eyes widening as they set on the man who seemed to be searching for someone. Good looking was an understatement of the century. The way his blazer fits just right on his biceps, his light brown hair and piercing gaze that just speaks "brooding loner", if you weren't at work you'd have fallen to your knees the second he made eye contact with you. You try to reel in your awe as he walks up to you, dusting off your clothes to make you look put together. "So you're my new babysitter? Y/n, right? I'm Leon Kennedy." Just the sound of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps, but your name from his lips is like a drug that gets you hooked instantly. And just like that, something flips in your brain, you are so not gonna be professional, how can you? How can anyone handle themselves around this man? You shake his hand as he extends it for you, and the feel of his rough hand from hard work sends so many dirty thoughts through your mind, like how good it would feel with his fingers on your neck, or his palm pressed against your tit, or how thick his fingers would feel inside you- chill out, play it cool.

"It's great to finally meet you, Mr. Kennedy, everyone has told me a lot about you.." You make sure to say it in a sultry tone to make it obvious how much you think he's attractive, and he sure as hell catches it. "Good things, I hope." He chuckles, giving you a sly smirk. Oh he knows. Fuck. "Oh don't worry, it's been all good things, promise. Though, I have heard that you made Hunnigan’s job a lot harder." You tease, looking him up and down and matching his sly smirk. Two can play that game. "Sure, but I get the job done, no?" The way he says it is so damn sexy you're sure he's doing what you're doing. "I'm sure you get a lot of things done with that attitude, Mr. Kennedy." You act like you're being sarcastic as you cross your arms under your chest, but you know how he could make you cum with the brush of his arm. "Only one way to find out, right?" That one makes your eyebrows raise, your smile widening as you blush slightly. "Is that an invitation?" You drop your voice slightly, leaning against the wall. The curve of your body sends a shockwave of arousal through him, and his eyes narrow on your figure. "If that's what you think I meant then by all means." He's so damn smug and it just makes you wanna sit on his face to shut him up.

"Is there anything you wanna ask me? About myself, the job?" You try to sound professional and not desperate, but you feel like it's helpless when you're looking up at him and he's so obviously checking you out, his eyes taking note of every curve on your body. Like he’s studying it for later. "I think I have a pretty good idea from Hunnigan and the President, is there anything you wanna ask me?" His question makes your eyes light up, but you don't wanna immediately ask him on a date. Classy, that's who you are to your core. "I can ask you anything I want?" "Anything." You smile smugly, lowering your hand to take his, clearly inspecting his ring finger as you bring it closer to you. "Do you have a girl? I don't see a ring on your finger." You say it in an innocent yet flirty tone that he so obviously gets turned on from, considering how he chuckles lightly as he shakes his head before taking his hand away. "So observant. I guess that comes with the job, huh? No, I'm single." Always such a tease, I guess neither of you can help that though. "Really? I have a hard time believing that." You have a faux surprised look on your face, all in the name of trying to get him to blush. You're getting close, you can feel it. "Is it? I'm an old man, what can I say." That one gets you shifting your thighs, biting your lip as you think of just how much older. What kind of experience comes with that age? "Old man, hmm? You ever thought of being with someone younger?" You step a little closer, just barely invading his personal space. "Haven't met anybody that can keep up." He says it so nonchalant, but fuck if it doesn't light a fire that spreads throughout your body. God, it's so hard not to say you could totally keep up, doesn't matter how long he'd want it. "Keep up, hmm? What, does this job give you a lot of stamina or something?" Your question makes him smile at you confidently, and it gets you oh so excited. "Well, I meant that most women don't like that I'm constantly busy, but if you wanna be dirty minded about it, be my guest." He totally stumps you, and it just makes you giggle and rest your hand on his arm, letting out a lil “my bad” before letting it slip away. You're slick, cause you honestly just touched his arm to feel how firm it was, and oh my god. Like diamonds, kind of hard. You can't imagine how fucking good it’d feel wrapped around your neck- there you go again. Snap out of it.

“You're pretty funny, you know that? I’m gonna have fun talking to you. For work, of course.” He let out a soft laugh at your flattery, loving how you tried to soften the thirstiness of your words with a joke. It's cute, you're really trying to say he's not hot. “Trust me, Hunnigan got very tired of my jokes.” You scoff, cause honestly, who could get tired of this guy? “Sorry, but she doesn't know what she's talking about, clearly you're an A class comedian.” You make it sound a little sarcastic, but he doesn't seem offended in the slightest. He loves a challenge. “Yeah? Aren't you a sweetheart? You love to flatter.” Your eyes widen a bit, resisting the urge to squeal and fan your hot face like a rabid fangirl, simply looking away to try and take a moment away from his hungry gaze. “I mean, it's hard not to, Mr. Kennedy..” You sheepishly give him that win, you’ll take it since he called you sweetheart, and in that teasing, cocky fucking tone of all things. If Cupid was real, you’d probably have a million arrows in your back right now. He parts his lips to reply, but gets cut off by his phone ringing, taking it out of his pocket to see the President calling. “Shit, I gotta take this.” He sighs, clearly wanting to keep talking to you instead. “It’s just Leon by the way, no need for formalities.” You get a smug smile again before he starts to walk back to the door of your office, walking with him to let him leave so you could wave him goodbye. “I’ll see you around, okay?” You nod, your smirk not leaving as he waits for you to say goodbye. “I’ll see you around, Mr. Kennedy~” You and your teasing, it's gonna throw him into cardiac arrest. He shares your smugness before begrudgingly answering his phone, looking back to see you waving bye at him with your dainty little hand. Like you knew he didn't wanna end the conversation.

He couldn't stop thinking about you all damn day after your little exchange, could barely focus on his briefing or look anyone in the eye. Even when he got home, knowing he had to wake up supremely early for work, he couldn't get you off his mind. You weren’t like every corporate drone the D.S.O hires, nothing like Hunnigan either. Bless the woman, but he would finally have someone to laugh at his shitty dad jokes. No wonder you got the job. You were drop dead gorgeous to him, not daring to come close to any Victoria Secret model. The way you giggle when you're nervous, how you sneak touches or how forward you are. God, it took every fiber in his body to not grab you and fuck you in a storage closet. Or against the wall? He just towers over you, he could fold you like a lawn chair and you’d take every inch. Fuck, how did his cock get in his hand? Who cares, honestly. He’s too busy spitting in his hand, too worked up to get anything better to help him jerk off. He groans, thinking of how good your soft, delicate fingers you used to wave at him would feel wrapped around his dick, whispering in his ear in that sexy voice you have. He feels chills down his spine when he remembers the way you teased him, how you didn't even say his name. Cause you didn't wanna give it to him yet, that satisfaction. Jesus, you're gonna kill him before any bioweapon does if you keep that shit up. His hand gets faster as his thoughts keep speeding forward, thinking about how good you’d sound saying his name. Not Mr. Kennedy, Leon. He has to hear it, has to hear you scream it when you cum on his cock. He needs to know how pretty you’d look when you cum, clinging to his arms, maybe even digging your nails into his back as your legs lock around his waist. So fucking hot as you beg to have him fill you up. He cums in his hand, spilling out of his palm and down his happy trail. He lets out a heavy sigh, catching his breath as he comes down from his high. He's not even close to feeling satisfied, even as he gets up to go shower again. He needs you, and he knows you feel the same. Hard part is gonna be getting you, without all the stress of what your coworkers would say.

You honestly don't stray too far from how he felt that night either. The second you closed the door to your office, you sat down and processed everything. It was a lot, seeing a man that fucking fine and not being able to drop to your knees and take his cock in your mouth. You were close to sprinting to a bathroom and taking care of the issue, maybe even slipping a hand between your legs and just testing the waters. Literally. He made you so wet, and you could feel it your entire shift, even as you walked to your car. You could only imagine how wet you’d get if he actually did anything. If he talked dirty? Him telling you to cum would make you do it on the spot, no question. Fuck, if he touched you? You’d be screaming like a damn pornstar, waking up the whole building when he slides his cock inside you. It's all you can think about when you get home, not caring to take a shower when you do. You just plop down on your bed and practically tear your clothes off, desperate for relief. Maybe that’ll save your career, fucking yourself thinking about him. So you do, pulling your nightstand drawer open the second you’re naked, taking out ol’ reliable. You can't count on your hands how many times this vibrator was there for you, it was way more reliable than your parents or therapist. Or you could be addicted to cumming, that too. But who wouldn't be? It's not your concern, especially if it's because of Leon. You wanna hear him say the most degrading, defiling, depraved shit in the world but still praise you for it, praise you for putting out so easily cause you're such a good girl. If fucking him with no hesitation makes you a slut, then you wear that badge proudly. That title feels even better when you start moaning his name, your toy hitting that sweet spot which makes you move your hand faster, needing to cum so damn bad. It feels so dirty in the best way possible, thinking of how firm his thighs would feel under your hands as you grip them tighter every time he shoves his cock further down your throat. You can’t imagine how fucking hot it’d be to hear him order you to grind your wet cunt on his boot, holding your hair so hard that you can’t help but push your nose against his pelvis, making your clit nudge against his boot again. Hearing that cocky son of a bitch tell you to cum would be like the devil coaxing you to join him down in hell, too sinful to imagine without having the real thing. It doesn't stop you from cumming on your toy, whining as your legs shake, turning it off as you heave out breaths. You’re fine if you think about him every night, it's good material for your shower thoughts. You’re more excited for his upcoming mission, making you all giddy as you get ready for bed. You're gonna be insufferable. Lucky Leon~

[writingsbychlo]

by moonlight | azriel

summary; you come home after a long few days away.

word count; 3804

notes; I got suddenly inspired by last nights cass fic. what can I say? I’ve been wanting to write for two weeks with no energy or time, I’m so happy to finally be able to.

As the night swept away from around you, you turned, finding that Rhys was already gone as you twisted. A simple drop off, that had been it, and the dark and stars were swallowing him once again. You couldn't blame him, it was the middle of the night, and he was practically falling asleep at his desk when you’d found him. You were almost falling asleep where you stood.

Light still filled the rooms, spilling out into the inky darkness between pale pillars, and you followed the muffled voices through to the dining room. As you entered, two heads snapped up from the table, matching smiles painting across their faces as they took you in. Cassian and Nesta were sitting at the table, a half-eaten board of cheese and crackers, two empty wine bottles and a third broken into, cards scattered around them. 

“You’re home early!” Nesta perked up, and you shrugged, dropping your bag down from your shoulder to sit at your feet as you wandered over. Leaning your hip on the table, the yawn threatening to break free from you was hardly contained. 

“I worked hard to get it done quicker, you know how I hate going away for too long.” You truly did, the worst part about your job was the days away on end on missions, too silent and too lonely on missions as you spent time away from your family. 

“That’s how I trained ya’.” Cassian winked, your brows raising at him as you reached out to pluck a cracker and a slice of cheese from the platter, nibbling on the end of it. 

“How you trained me?” You flicked a loose piece of cracker at him, and it bounced off his forehead, crumbling into pieces that rained down onto his lap as his mate snickered. 

“Alright, how we trained each other.” His amendment was good enough, you were too tired to argue anything else, and he beamed at the nod you gave. Nesta chuckled again, smirking as she laid down another card on the set-up before you both. Cassian took it in, eyes widening a fraction, and then he let out a filthy curse under his breath. Nesta kicked his shin under the table, but the prideful expression only grew at his frustration. 

Swallowing down the snack, you leaned over his shoulder, examining his card through sleep-blurred eyes and an exhaustion-muddled mind. You pointed to the King of Hearts, and he was quick to lay it down. After a half-second, Nesta was letting out an equally terrible curse and Cassian kicked her ankle this time. She kicked back. 

“How are you still beating us at this game when you can barely stand up?” Your friend was not happy, her brows pulling tight as she concentrated harder on the strategy game before herself. 

“Nesta’s just mad because now in one move, I’m winning!” She stuck her tongue out at you and Cassian. “There’s some tea in the kitchen, go get a mug and go to bed. You look exhausted.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear. Always the charmer, Cass.” Despite it all, you leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head as one arm wrapped around your waist to squeeze you to his side in a hug, eyes never leaving the cards. You shifted, kicking your bag to the other side of the table and pressing a matching kiss to the top of Nesta’s head. She puckered her lips and blew a kiss back, equally focused. Scooping up your bag and throwing it over one sore shoulder, you tried not to groan. 

“Goodnight, you two.”

“Night!” They sang in unison as you walked away, headed to the kitchen as a pot of hot tea called your name. “Y’know, for that comment before, you’ll never have enough moves to win later tonight, now.”

You smirked at their conversation as it faded into the background. The kitchen smelled like brewed herbs that made the cloudy tiredness of your head only thicken, your eyes feeling so heavy you could fall asleep where you stood. Grabbing two mugs from the top shelf, you poured hot tea into both, inhaling the streams of swirling steam and feeling a little tension melt from your body. 

A shower, that's what you needed before you could sleep. You were stiff and sore and achy, and a hot shower would release all of that before you could get a good night’s sleep. Maybe the whole day’s sleep as well. You’d need it.

Making your way back through the corridors, every step closer and closer to your mate made your heart swell, feeling as though it was going to burst right out of your heart. Though you’d never put your walls up against him, you both knew that the bond had to stay quiet and cold and borderline dead when you were on missions, and one of your favourite parts of coming home was getting to feel it come back to life, feeling your chest spark back to life and the warmth of his love lighting you up.

Currently, the feeling inside of your chest was utter content relaxation, steady and soft and barely there. Not the usual influx of emotions, passionate and strong and heady like usual, the kind you got when he was tired, asleep, or drunk. Your suspicions were only confirmed as you used your elbow to open the door quietly, the door scraping across soft carpet to reveal the large bedroom you shared. 

Laying on the huge Illyrian-accommodating bed, spread out across the mattress was your lover, wings folded away behind his back as he sat nestled among the piles of pillows. Plump lips parted, he was taking steady breaths, hair messy and glasses askew across his face. He was most definitely asleep, his shadows were practically motionless and they spread out across the carpet to all corners of the room, fading back to the places the candlelight didn’t reach as he had no use for them. He didn’t even flinch when the door clicked shut. 

Putting down your bag, it was abandoned to simply be sorted tomorrow instead, and the two mugs were left on the countertop by the door. Kneeling down, your knees ached as you undid the laces on your boots, taking off your boots one-by-one and flexing your toes, wiggling them now that they were free. Placing them by the much larger pair sitting by the door, the image made you smile. You hang your jacket on the coat rack next to his, and padded near-silently across the room with one hot-ceramic mug in hand to get your robe. 

Azriel didn’t stir, not as you got undressed, or put on your robe, not even as you brushed the hair away from his forehead as you leaned over him. The curl fell back down over the rim of his glasses, and you chuckled at the untameable hair. Lifting them off of his face gently, he let out a particularly rough sigh, nose scrunching as you took the glasses away, folding them up and putting them on the bedside table, atop the book he was currently working his way through. 

No shirt, only a pair of black boxers as he’d obviously fallen asleep halfway through his evening plans. Golden skin mottled with pink scars and tattoos and the occasional hidden mole. He was like artwork, a pretty mess all for you. Bed-rumpled hair, pouty lips and candlelight flickering through the room and making every hard line and dip of his body seem emphasised. 

Gods, he was a work of art. 

He was your work of art. Your love, your mess, your man to take care of.

Next, you gathered up the papers scattered around him and his pens, clearing everything from the covers to the messy surface of his desk, and making a note to get him to tidy it up tomorrow before he got stressed. The curl was back, and you brushed it away, leaving a kiss on his forehead before it fell right back. He was so beautiful, but without those stress lines marring his pretty smile and his brows pulled tight together, he was ethereal. Taking a moment to appreciate it, you ran your finger along one cheekbone, and down the bridge of his nose.

“I love you.”

He huffed a little in his sleep, like his soul had heard yours. Pulling the covers up from the other side of the bed, your side, you cleared them away, before scooping your arms up underneath his body. With a grunt and a strain that ricocheted through your entire body, you rolled him over, all six-foot-five of Illyrian goodness until he was flopping onto his stomach, cheek pressed into the new pillow and he shuffled to pull it closer to his chest subconsciously. 

He was tense, you could tell from the still-tight tuck of his wings to his back, crumpled from how he’d fallen asleep, and the taut muscles along his body. With a hand settling along mole-speckled skin between his shoulder blades, you rubbed lightly in circles, pressure building as you lowered along his spine. Like magic, as they always did, his wings drooped dramatically, spreading out along the bed and filling the space, his entire body all but melting into the bed, a trick spot on his body that always released everything he was holding onto. 

Such a burst of love exploded within your chest that your throat felt tight and your eyes almost watered, and you rubbed at your chest, trying to contain the feeling within you lest it wake him up. It would be something he’d never let you live down if you woke him up being too in love with him. Your cheeks ached from the smile on your face, but you could live with that.

You were tempted to say screw it all, to crawl into bed beside him, tuck yourself under one of those wings, under one of his arms, to kiss at his jaw and cheeks until he woke up and tugged you close. You could feel the warmth of his body, the way his legs would tangle with your own and the bump of his heart against his chest that would match your own beat for beat. You trembled a little, arms wrapping around yourself as you took a deep breath. 

No. If you didn’t have a hot shower now, you’d be locked up and tense all week, and you hated that feeling. If you weren’t going to stretch it all out, you at least had to shower. Plus, you were pretty sure there was still mud in your hair and sweat coating your body. Taking your mug of tea with you after tucking the blankets up and around his body, you made your way to the bathroom. 

It was too bright, even with only one faelight lit, and you bit back a groan at the glare of pearly white tiles and marble countertops. Stripping off the robe and leaving it on the hook on the back of the half-closed door, you turned on the shower, leaving it to heat up as steam began pouring out. Another swig of tea, and you were untangling your hair from the right braids you wore to keep it contained and out of your face while you worked. 

The rest of the bathroom felt cold as steam swirled out, surrounding you in delicate twists the way shadows normally would, affectionate and sweet and loving. The warmth they offered was much like that of Azriel’s touch. The sooner you were showered and clean, the sooner you were curling up beside him in bed. 

That was the only motivation you had for stepping under the stream of water, eyes closing as you let the warmth pour over you, soaking you from head to toe and washing away the awful grime and dirt that felt like it had been building on your skin for years. It eased a sigh from you, your body finally slumping from the tight lines it held, your arms feeling heavy as they scrubbed at your hair, washed off your body, conditioned and cleaned until you felt brand-new once again. 

As your face tipped back up into the water, heat beating down onto you, arms snaked around your waist. You jumped a little, and Azriel, silent as always, plastered himself to your back as he climbed into the shower with you. Your hands fell to muscle-bound forearms which were sealed around your waist, squeezing lightly as he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. 

Turning in his tight hold, his crossed arms fell to sit in the small of your back instead, your cheek pressing to his chest, arms wrapping around him equally as tightly as water now poured down your back instead. You didn’t need to speak, to say anything, the calming feel of one calloused hand running up and down your back was more than enough. His own cheek came down to rest on the top of your head, chest inflating with a deep breath underneath you, brushing the top of your head as he exhaled. 

Shaking out his wings, water droplets bounced off of them, flying out and spattering across the tiles, the mirror, and the floor, before they were curling protectively around you, blocking out some of the harsh light you were squinting against. You stroked the bond within your chest appreciatively, and he nudged his nose against your temple in return. Never one for many words, but he always managed to make you feel like the centre of his world. 

You lingered a while longer, it could have been minutes or hours, you lost track of time while clinging to him, before he reached out to switch off the shower behind your body. Retracting one wing at a time, he pulled back, stepping out of the cubicle and running a fluffy towel over his body, before turning to face you. Reaching out, he cleaned down one leg at a time, drying you off as you balanced on his shoulders, before he was drying his way up. Fluffy cotton that made you dream of your bed, and he wrapped it around your shoulders, guiding you to the sink. 

He tugged his boxers back on, pulling wet strands of hair over your shoulders and squeezing them dry with the towel as you began to slowly apply skincare. He reached out, picking up your abandoned mug and sniffling at the contents, humming appreciatively and taking a swig. His eyes were closer to shut than open, much like your own, night hanging outside and tempting you both back into bed. Even the sky was dark tonight, clouds hanging overhead, as though even the stars were sleeping tonight. 

Tugging at the damp strands and separating them out, he combed through, and rubbed oils and products through your hair as he went, until they were smooth and clean and you had one less job to do. As soon as he had finished, he was leaning in, pressing a kiss to your neck, face burying into the crook as you leaned back into him. 

“Shall we go to bed now?”

“Mhm.” Muffled by a yawn you tried to cover, the words broke off into a sharp giggle as Azriel leaned down to scoop you up under your legs, one hand supporting your back as he carried you back to the bedroom. The lights went out automatically behind you, and only the golden glow of a candle almost burned out was left flickering to light you both up. He was smirking tiredly, and he nuzzled at your cheek, pressing a kiss there as he walked. 

You almost made it, your arms looped around his neck to play with the curls at the base of his neck, when he stumbled. Tripping over his own feet as his feet fluttered, the two of you tumbled down onto the bed, your body splaying out across it before he landed on top of you, only his wings bracing his fall, and your laughter was mixed together as you tangled in the sheets.

“So elegant, spymaster.” He only huffed at your teasing, dragging himself up weakly and resting his cheek against your chest, the weight of him pressing you into the bed, a weight you’d missed so terribly while you were away. 

“You’re home early.”

“What can I say, I missed you.” He smiled against your skin, pressing a kiss to the spot above your heart. 

“You should have told me, sent a message, or something. I’d have stayed up for you.”

“I didn’t want you to stay up, I want you to rest. Gods know you need it, sometimes.” If there was one single flaw Azriel had, it was that he tended to push himself to the limits whenever constantly, with no concern for his health. You’d known him to go days without real sleep before almost collapsing, and maybe he was working on it now, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still have rough patches. Your fingers dragged through his hair again. “I’m sorry I woke you, I tried to be quiet.”

“You were.” Another kiss to your collarbone, and he reached up until his face was resting within your neck. “I woke up because I felt you. I always know when you're near me, my love. I missed you, too.”

Your cheeks warmed, and it never ceased to amaze you how he could always make you feel like those first few months of your relationship, no matter how many years passed. “What were you working on?”

He jolted slightly, as though he’d fallen asleep again during that lull in the conversation, and he sniffled as he rose back to consciousness. Your hands moved from his hair, rubbing along his shoulders and his arms where they wrapped around you, a silent apology. “Hm?”

“I just asked what you were working on, that’s all.” Your whisper dropped even lower, your nails running lightly along his skin and he shuddered happily at the feeling, delicate scratches making goosebumps rise. A bloom of bliss unfurled in your chest, his hand coming up to rub over the exact spot, like he knew just where his feelings settled in your heart. 

“Oh.. just some of your mission reports, so you don’t have to do as much paperwork.” His shoulders moved in what you could only assume was a shrugging motion, diluted drowsily. “I did what I could, but you still have to do all the brief ‘n’ stuff.”

Your smile was beyond your control, hidden in his hair as you pressed your face into the top of his head, sighing happily at him. As you kissed his hair, he yawned. 

“Gods, I hate being away from you.” The words were carried on the happiest of tones, a kind of honey-sweet voice he only ever brought out in moments like these. Laced with tenderness and vulnerability and love, it was the kind of drug you’d become addicted to from the very first time. 

“I’m home now.”

Azriel hummed, nodding. “Now stay forever.”

“What about your missions, huh? When you go again?” Azriel’s head shook this time, or as best it could with his face in your neck, and one scarred hand came out to adjust your grip on him, guiding one hand back up to his hair not-so-subtly. You did as asked, fingers tangling in messy onyx locks, rubbing at his scalp once again. 

“No. No more missions. We’ll just live in this bed forever.”

“Yeah? What about food and drink?” These were the moods you loved with your mate, when the last of his walls came down, when the silly side of himself, the childish side he’d never been able to indulge in came out. Playful and loving and needy, it was your favourite part of his soul to have unlocked. 

“We have that half-drunk tea in the bathroom. We’ll survive.”

You could only smile, eyes rolling fondly, and silence took over once again. Dragging himself up, he lay down by your side instead now, legs tangling with yours, a wing settling across your body as his fingers found your hips, settling over the bare skin and sliding around to sit at the top of your ass. His large hands stretched out, covering your lower back too, tugging you closer until your chests were pressed together. 

You tilted your head enough to blow out the candle beside the bed, two of his fingers quickly turning your face back to him, and he leaned in, a soft kiss pressed to your lips. It was the final piece, slotting back to you as you came home, to him, to love, your lips working slowly together in a kiss that said it all. 

Welcome home.

I missed you. 

I love you.

A whole conversation without words as your hand sat on his cheek, as his wing settling over your body just the way you’d wanted it, and you snuggled into the feeling of him. He pulled back, and you chased closer, catching his lips once again, his sigh spanning across your skin as his face twisted. His tongue smoothed slowly over your lower lip, begging for access, pleading for more, and you let him. 

Slow, sweet, sensual. Every part of your body touched some part of him outside, as his very presence filled you from your heart, inside to out. He grunted, your hand smoothing down his chest, muscles tensing under your fingers, until you were both panting, pulling away for desperate drags of breath into your lungs. 

Your thumb swept over his lips, wiping away the kiss as he smiled, nudging back in until you were nose to nose. 

Silence filled the room as soon as darkness did, only his steady deep breaths and the occasional rustle of his wings when he twitched to break the all-encompassing quiet.

It was you who flinched this time, when he spoke; “D’you see Cass and Nesta on your way in?”

“I did.” You couldn't help it, leaning in to place another kiss on his lips, another, starving for his love as he chuckled, squeezing your hip in warning. You were both tired, you were both almost falling asleep, and if you kept it up, neither of you would see a wink before the sun was rising. The second squeeze was a promise, a promise as his hand smoothed up your waist, thumb running under your bare breast without going further, a promise that tomorrow night you’d get everything and more. “They were playing cards.”

Your throat was raspy and cracked, and it only helped that his was equally affected - deep and rumbly - and he replied. “They’re practising for game night next week.”

“We’re still gonna’ kick their asses.”

“‘Course we are, love. We’re unstoppable.”

[hqbaby]

four — not not serious

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.6k content. swearing, just a bunch of fluff

“I don’t get it,” Osamu says, face pulled into a frown. “Ya haven’t slept with ‘er yet?”

Atsumu kicks his brother in the stomach, eyes trained on the screen as he pulls the lead in Mario Kart. “Fuck yeah!” he cheers. “And, yeah, ya pig. Not everythin’s about sex y’know.”

“Ya fuckin’ cheated! That doesn’t count!”

“Yer just a sore loser.” It’s Atsumu’s turn to receive an elbow to the ribs. “Asshole!” he hisses, throwing the controller to the side when he still somehow finishes first. “Serves ya right.”

The twins both lean back into the couch, the adrenaline washing away. Atsumu adds another notch under his name on the tally they’ve been keeping of their wins and losses. The score so far is 3-12 in Osamu’s favor (but Atsumu swears he’ll beat him over the summer).

“Ya serious ‘bout the girl?”

Atsumu groans. His brother has been trying to know more about you for whatever nosy reason and he finds it nothing short of annoying. “What does it matter to ya, scrub?”

“Just wanna know if I’m gonna have t’make more food at Christmas, s’all,” Osamu says in faux innocence. “So? Is it serious?”

The golden-haired twin wrinkles his nose, the face he always makes when he’s in deep thought. “It’s not serious,” he says eventually, then adds, “But it’s not not serious.”

“Oh?”

“It’s… nice. She’s nice.”

Osamu snickers at the look on his brother’s face. He’s clearly more interested in this “nice” girl than he lets on. He already figured as much when his brother started being all quiet about it, because if there’s one thing he knows about Atsumu, it’s that he’s never quiet. So there’s bound to be something going on.

“When am I gonna get to meet her?”

“Fuck off."

“You look nice,” Kiyoko says, leaning against the door of your room. A smile plays on her lips as she watches you fix your hair in the mirror. “That dress in particular is really pretty. Where’d you get it?”

You give her a sheepish look, glancing down at the green ensemble that is definitely not yours. You wonder if she’s noticed the shoes yet. “All my clothes are dirty.”

She rolls her eyes fondly and makes her way over to her dresser. Opening a drawer, she produces a pair of earrings with a dainty flower motif and hands it to you. “Here,” she says. “It goes with the dress. And the shoes.”

You take the earrings and launch yourself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, thank you, I love you!”

“Sure, sure, whatever.” She chuckles. “Where’s your laundry? I can throw it in with mine.”

“I will marry you and have your children and serve you every day of my life.”

She ponders for a moment then says, “I’ll settle for cake.”

You nod earnestly, holding her hands in yours. “Whatever you say, my lord and savior.”

Your roommate helps you finish getting ready. She does your hair when you get stuck not knowing whether to put it up or down and tries to clear some of the mess you’ve made in your room. You swear she’s a saint. Why else would she be this great?

“What’s with all the date jitters?” she asks eventually as the two of you sort through the pile of clothes on her bed. At this point, you can barely tell who owns what.

“What do you mean?”

She gestures at you, drawing your attention to your appearance. “You never put this much effort into dates.”

Your mouth drops into an “O” as you shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “‘Tsumu said he had something fun planned and to dress a little fancy. So here we are.”

“‘Tsumu, huh?” Kiyoko gives you a teasing look. “That’s been going on for a while.”

“Just three weeks,” you say. “Not even a month yet.”

“Yeah, but that’s like a lifetime for you,” she points out. “When was the last time you dated someone for that long?”

You frown. “I’ve been with Rin for like a year now.”

“That’s different though, isn’t it?”

You never thought about it really. You never thought of Suna as anything like a boyfriend, but you knew he wasn’t exactly just a friend either. It wasn’t even that you fooled around with him. There was always something more there, something deeper. A genuine care for one another at the very least.

You wonder if he thinks that too.

“Text,” Kiyoko says, passing your phone to you when it buzzes.

tsumu: am outside :D 

“He’s here,” you tell her, putting your phone in your purse. You stand up and strike a ridiculous pose, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip, lips pouting. “How do I look?”

“So fuckable.”

“Thanks.” You grin, opening the door. “Love you! See you later!”

You find Atsumu at the entrance and he… looks nice. He’s ditched his usual clothes for a crisp white button-up and nice pants. Even his hair is styled a little better. Not that you ever thought that he looked bad, but he clearly made an effort today.

You realize you’ve been staring at him for so long that you haven’t even noticed that he’s been looking at you too. His eyes are wide as he gapes at your figure.

“Ya look…” He let out a little chuckle. “Yer beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks heat up as you look down at Kiyoko’s stolen shoes, unable to look him straight in the eye. Something inside you erupts. Well, that’s new, you think to yourself. What even is that?

“Thank you.” You smile at him. “You look great too, you know.”

Now it’s his turn to get all embarrassed. “Thanks.” He takes your hand in his and gently leads you closer to him. “Ready to go?”

You squeeze his hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The two of you make your way through the courtyard. It’s a nice summer day and people are out and about, talk and laughter filling the air around you. Some students have gone home to visit their families so it isn’t as crowded as usual, but more than a few of you are still on campus for the summer semester. Everything is warm and bright and perfect, like it can stay this way forever.

Atsumu leads you past the benches and the trees, taking a turn before you reach the parking lot.

“Where are we going?” you ask, expecting him to lead you to his car like he usually does and wondering why you went the other way.

He turns to you with a grin. “It’s a surprise.”

You end up walking into one of the buildings near your residence hall, the science building. It’s empty save for a few members of the maintenance staff mopping the floors and airing out the rooms. They don’t even look your way as Atsumu leads you up the stairs, all the way to the top of the building on the third floor.

Your brows furrow as he lets go of your hand and goes to push the door to the rooftop open. It’s usually locked (you know this because you and Oikawa once tried to sneak up there when you were wasted), but this time, it opens and Atsumu nods his head for you to step outside.

When you walk through the door, you’re met with the vast concrete expanse of the rooftop. Except it isn’t as empty as you expected it to be. In the middle of it, there’s a screen and a projector and a blanket and a bunch of pillows. You notice a basket lying nearby beside a cooler that looks like it’s been through a lot.

“What is this?” you ask, eyes fixed on the scene before you.

Atsumu shrugs, that boyish charm of his seeping through. “I wanted to do something nice.”

You peel your gaze away from the little theater on the rooftop and turn to look at him. “Something nice?”

His eyes go big, panic taking over him. Is it too much? Do you not like it? This probably wasn’t what you expected at all. He should’ve just taken you to a nice restaurant. He didn’t have to do all of this.

“Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya ‘bout it. If ya don’t like it, we can just—”

Before he even realizes it, your lips are on his. He’s still gawking when you kiss him softly, deeply. It takes him a moment, but soon he’s kissing you back, his hands going to your waist and yours wrapping around his neck.

You pull back and he finds you smiling at him, all toothy and giddy like a kid in a candy store.

“I love it,” you tell him, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”

He leans down and kisses you again. “Don’t even mention it.”

When you separate, you’re still clinging to his hand as he shows you the whole set-up. In the basket, he reveals pizza from the place you kept telling him about, some popcorn, and a bunch of sweets. There’s a few cans of your favorite soda in the cooler and a tiny tub of ice cream (he tells you that he was supposed to get wine but his brother blew through their allowance for the week). You sit down on the blankets while you pick which food to eat first while he goes to set up the movie: Pulp Fiction, because you once swore he had to see it.

He sits down beside you and you give him that smile again, curling into his side. You turn to watch the movie as the sun sets around you, and Atsumu finds he can’t look away from your face. He notices the curve of your nose, the shape of your lips, the way your hair falls just right. He decides he could look at you forever and he’d never get bored, he’d always find something new and beautiful about you.

It’s not serious, he tells himself. But it’s not not serious either.

notes. and so it begins ;)

[ritsusakumawife]

Rejected

Male Yandere! x GN!Reader (This is a remake but feel free to read the original one)

Warnings: Use of profanity, implied murder, possible manipulation, mentions of depression, mentions of sui

“I’m sorry but I don’t like you in that way”

“What..?”

“Sigh..I like you, but only as a friend. I don’t like like you”

“Oh! Not that there’s anything I don’t like about you. I’m just not looking for a relationship right now”

“No, no, it’s alright..Yeah..Friends..Let’s just, remain friends, yeah?”

“Are you sure? You aren’t just saying that to make things less awkward, right?”

“Mhm..I didn’t expect you to say yes anyways hahah. You’ve always been quite open about what you currently want and don’t want after all.”

“I just wanted to get it out of my chest y’know? It’s been bothering me” He chuckles awkwardly

“So..We’re cool?” You say awkwardly

“Yeah..Cool..”

“Ahah..Nice..?” You say in an almost questioning tone

RINGGGGG

“Oh..Wow, the uhm bell rang. Well then, see you around. Bye byeee” You then quickly turn around and hurriedly leave

‘Gosh, that whole interaction was so awkward and tense! Remind me to never accept secret rooftop meetings ever again!’

“…”

‘It’s only been a month since you rejected me.’

‘You said you didn’t want a relationship. Yet, why are you getting so close to him? Him, of all people’

Your laughter echoes through the hallways, breaking him out of his train of thought

“I can’t take this anymore..”

Quickly, he marches over to you, grabs your hand, and pulls you away outside in the courtyard

“Kanata. Let go of me!”

Surprised by your voice he lets go

“That hurt, why’d you do that?” You glare, demanding an answer

“I— I’m sorry, it’s just..Him..I’ve warned you so so many times to not get close to him.”

“He’s a bad person”

“You need to stay away from him. Now.”

Irritated, you reply, “Look, no one has the right to judge and dictate who I should or shouldn’t hang out with”

“Especially you, yes, you Kanata”

“What? Me? And why the hell is that huh?”

He’s clearly starting to get agitated but that won’t stop you from saying what you’ve been wanting to

“Hah! Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I know how you’ve been bullying him behind everyone’s back! Behind my back!”

“He was never a bad person! It was you all along! You’re the bully, not him!”

“What the heck are you even talking about right now y/n?!? Me? Bullying that guy? Are you out of your mind?? Have you finally lost it? Huh?!”

“You know me better than I do y/n! Since when was I ever the type to bully someone?!!”

“ARE YOU A FUCKING IDIOT Y/N L/N??!! I MEAN, I KNEW YOU ALWAYS WERE BUT I DIDN’T THINK YOU WERE THIS MUCH OF AN IDIOT”

…….

He hated this situation

He hated all of it

He hated how you were accusing him

He hated how he’d accidentally raised his voice

He hated how he let his temper get the best of him again

But, he can’t take back and rephrase those words now

…….

“..An idiot..? Wow, is that what you’ve thought me all along? Huh?”

“To think that I..To think that I even ever thought of you as a friend”

“IS THAT WHAT YOU REALLY THINK OF ME?!”

“N-No, I—” “I BET YOU ALSO TALK BAD ABOUT ME BEHIND MY BACK, DON’T YOU? I BET..I BET THAT ALL THIS TIME YOU’VE THOUGHT THAT I WAS A NUISANCE AND THAT I WASN’T WORTH YOUR TIME”

“What?! NO. Y/N, where the heck is all this coming from? I never even said anything like that”

“But I bet I really was a nuisance, wasn’t I?”

“Everyone..Everyone always ends up leaving me..I thought you were different. But I can see that you aren’t any different from them” You stare at him and walk off

….

You didn’t know why you said all that

Why did you say it?

Those words aren’t even close to what you were thinking

Everything was so off. This wasn’t how you guys fought. You’ve always talked things out..But why did it end like that?

Why?

Whywhywhywhywhy

….

It’s been a few days since that fight you had with your now ex best friend

Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him around for a while now..

Oh well, it was none of your business. You probably just missed each other, the building is huge after all

On the other hand,

You’ve gotten a lot closer to Angel

Well, Angel isn’t his name but it’s what everyone calls him. A bit weird to call a guy that but it’s nice, he fits the description of an angel after all

Huh, you’ve never actually found out his real name now that you thought of it..He introduced himself as Angel when you guys met and guess you just never had the opportunity to ask him for his real name..

After a few days of still not seeing your ex best friend, you decided to pay his class a visit before classes start and hopefully make up

You’ve been friends for almost all your life. No matter what you try to think your heart just can’t let this friendship that lasted for a decade to end in that way

You peek through the open door and look around

One of the people there, notice you and come up

“Is there something you need?”

“Oh! Uh, no, not really. Just wondering if Kanata came to school today..We recently had a fight and I want to make things right again..Ahah..”

‘Someone end me..I DIDN’T MEAN TO BASICALLY VENT TO SOME RANDOM PERSON’

Upon hearing what you had to say, the girl looked almost hesitant to say what she’s about to say next

“I..I’m sorry, you mustn’t have heard but, Kanata’s dead”

“Sorry? What?”

“He’s dead. He was going through depression and well..You know, he..Couldn’t take it anymore. I’m very sorry for your loss”

“Oh..Yeah..Uhm..T-thank you for letting me know”

You had been on autopilot throughout the entire day

The bell rang, classes started and ended

And right now, you find yourself crying, hugging, and confiding in Angel, your new best friend

How did you end up in his house? You don’t remember. Everything is foggy, blurry, all you know is that his touch is comforting, his hand brushing through your hair, whispering comforting words

Promising that he won’t leave you like the others

He’s different

He promised not to leave you

“I won’t ever leave you alone”

You wake up from your sleep

“What an odd dream..”

It wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare

“I should probably get ready now lest I be late for that date!”

Wake up. Wake up to the real world

Ding dong~

“Oh? That must be him!”

You hurriedly rush to the front door and open it

Upon opening the door you immediately get engulfed in a hug

“Morning babe”

You chuckle, “Good morning! You’re here early, hold on. I just woke up, lemme get ready first then we can head out, yeah?”

“Yeah. Go ahead and get ready, I’ll be here”

Run

Wake up

This isn’t real

Kanata didn’t end himself

He was a happy man. He never had depression

“Angel”, or rather, Rei, killed him

You know this. Don’t delude yourself

WAKE UP

“I’m ready! Well?”

“You look absolutely amazing love, now then, shall we go?” He offers his hand

“Amazing just for you! And yes, we shall my good sir” You hold his hand and start to walk side by side

“Geez..That’s sweet but don’t say that ever again. That was cringe” He says in a lighthearted teasing tone

You giggle, “I know, I know, but you still love me despite me being cringe at times”

“Well, you’re right about that”

“How could I ever not love you? You’re the most wonderful person on earth”

Ah..

I see..

It’s too late..

His grasp is too strong

You’ll never break free

I’ll(we’ll) never break free

[ashersanity]

if there is stepbro whitney, there is pervert uncle wren, like you are so similar in age, he never felt your uncle, especially when taught you all about sex and took all your virginities

content warning! incest, step-cest, dub-con, whatever you call it, pc is adopted and big brother whitney is a bitch.

Y’know, this is pretty fucking funny to get considering I’ve been fixated on Whitney’s and Wren’s possible relationship in the game that I made the fuck up since they’ve never met before, never so much as shared a word. I’m still convinced they’re related.

There’s just way too many similarities about them and Vrel answered my question with a “I shan’t say” when asked. That basically confirms it for me. The blonde hair, the names both starting with a ‘W’ and the smuggling tendencies? I mean, where else did Whitney ever learn to pickpocket randoms on the streets? There’s gotta be something at least and I’m not backing down till they properly meet one way or another. Fucking laid back older sibling and bratty little sibling, I’ve got so much shit on Whitney and Wren, it’s crazy.

That’s not the main focus though, is it?

Unlike big brother Whitney who’s going to be all rough about it, demanding to take your virginity just for the mere satisfaction of having taken it to begin with, Wren will be a little more different. All smiles, that’s simply how it is with him. Wicked grin plastered on his face, soft brown eyed boy, something so very welcoming about him that makes you wanna listen to his comforting words, lightly ushered into your ears. The same ones where he’d reassure you over and over about how this is fine, slipping your hand lower over his throbbing erection insistently nudging against your palm, barely restrained by the constricting fabric of his trousers.

He’ll be gentle about it at first, brush it off as mere teasing and being playful with each other cuz that’s what family does, right? Don’t mind the lingering glances of his gaze over your barely buttoned shirt, where the collar hangs low to reveal your pretty, flushed skin beneath the loose fabric. Calls you shit like “doll” and “sunshine” as terms of endearment and affection, loving the way a faint blush dusts your cheeks at those words, telling him off. Obviously, it isn’t normal to be this chummy with your uncle, chummy enough that you’re comfortably sat on his lap, legs hooked over his hips and tongues down each others throats, uselessly grinding away.

First kiss went to him without even realizing it, planting his lips against the surface of your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips before firmly pressing his mouth to your own with a breathless sigh. Barely have a time to register what the fuck even happened before the smuggler is pulling away from you, as if none of it even happened in the first place. ‘Course, it escalates to more than short pecks and stiff lips, now willingly parting for his pink tongue demanding entry, seeking yours. Next thing you know, you’re now getting a taste of his cock, musky scent heavy against your face with your nose buried in his dark blonde patch, giving the length an experimental suck.

Alright, so you may or may not have given your first kiss to him and he’s given you the taste of cock, quickly grown addicted to it like a typical cockwhore would, like he trained you to be. Just the subtle spreading of the blonde’s legs as he chats over the table of fuck all with his buddies, the stretch of his jeans over his long legs has you flushing like a virgin. Well, technically you are one, that is, until he takes that away from you too.

Was the same thing as always, settled on his lap, legs dangling from your position with the two of you sloppily making out. Routine you picked up on, sit on uncle Wren’s lap and you’ll be left with each other’s frames needily pressed against one another, mouths refusing to part away. Offhandedly mentions about your virginity, practiced hands dragging lower, lower than usual as you stiffen up on the spot. It’s ok, he promises. It’s ok, uncle Wren is simply here to help you learn for later on, how to take a real cock. So, just let him do this just this once, hastily freeing his dick, springing up like a starved man that’s been eagerly waiting for this very moment, smacking against your bare backside.

Oh, he’s going to have fun ruining his cute little sunshine’s hole, alright.

Grip on your hips, tight and rhythmically squeezing the soft flesh between his fists, utterly enthralled. Watching on as you bounce down on his cock like a needy whore in heat, coming undone. Gotten the taste of real cock and now, you’re never going to live without it, not without your constant pawing at his belt from now on. Fuck, Wren loves it. There’s nothing prettier than that adorable expression you make once you finally sink down to the base, curved just right to fill you up and reach places you would’ve never thought so before. The hot sounds of your soft, squishy insides tightening around him, sucking him right in as though you’re begging not let go. You were made for this, fucking made to be taken like a slut on your own uncle’s lap, a now deflowered tulip.

Will Whitney be happy about this? Fuck no, bitch is probably seething in his seat thinking about it. The stutter of his hips, pausing over your now loosened hole that’s been fucked open by good ol’ uncle Wren. Cmon, don’t tell me that motherfucker wouldn’t have an inferiority complex over it, wanting to be better than the other and so he ruthlessly slams into you over and over again. Mind redirecting to the stuffing of his own fat cock in your slutty tight heat, taking big brother’s heated thrusts so well.

Honestly, it might as well end with both of you, in a compromising position, stuck between both blondes. Uncle Wren’s dick up your ass and Whitney’s own down your throat because of his shitty oral fixation. Both collectively groaning and cursing like whores, heads thrown back at the feel of your warm, wet hole and mouth welcomingly inviting their thick lengths inside.

Can this family get any sicker at this point?

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

Part 11/16

<<< previous part

Word count - 4.1k

warnings - minor injury. lots of social media posts. chapter starts off in first person!!

***

It’s a comfortably warm morning in Monaco, the café I’ve been asked to go to is quaint - tucked away in a narrow street off of the beaten path but you get a perfect view of anyone coming towards you. A waiting game to see which of the people who cross my path is going to be her. I can’t help but study every woman who steps onto the cobblestones, but as soon as I see none other than Charles Leclerc come around the corner, hand in hand with a woman - it all clicks into place.

Y/n y/l/n is Thirty.

Both of them greet me with a smile and a warm handshake as they step inside the cafe - bringing a cool breeze in as they open the door. Charles looks smart in a linen shirt, chain around his neck, and a watch more expensive than a regular person’s annual salary on his wrist. And y/n looks effortlessly beautiful in a sundress to complement the warm weather, before I can start digging into her being Thirty I have to ask about her perfume - her signature smell is to die for. She laughs, pulling out a travel size from her purse to offer it to me, swearing she has a full size at home.

As you can imagine, I have a lot of questions. But let’s just start at the beginning, how did the whole Faceless driver idea come about?

Y/n leans back in her seat a little, Charles’ tanned arm is draped lazily across the back and he uses his hand to squeeze her shoulder.

Ferrari were really interested in having me as part of the team but it was risky y’know? A woman, let alone an 18 year old woman in one of the top teams was unheard of.

She pauses as the waiter takes our order, Charles ordering for us all in Italian - I can’t help but notice the way y/n studies him, a soft sparkle in her eye. Their relationship seems easy and when she turns her attention back to me, she seems a little more sure of herself.

I was part of the Ferrari academy since I joined GP3, but that and then F2 just never felt truly challenging to me and I craved more. F1 was where I belonged, it was just about getting there. I believe it was Maurizio Arrivabene who ended up suggesting keeping my identity a secret. The press from that alone brought in more sponsors than the team had ever seen and as you know, Ferrari has never had much difficulty with that.

Her answers are rehearsed, not in a media trained way, but in a way of a woman who has had to keep her identity a secret for her whole career and is finally getting to speak the truth. I understand why she would want Charles here, her teammate and boyfriend is a calming presence - keeping quiet as he knows she deserves the spotlight after all these years.

You never won a championship in F2, how did you convince them that you were good enough for F1?

She takes a sip of her drink, taking a deep breath before softly shrugging her shoulders as if she’s not entirely sure herself.

I spent a lot of time in simulators and they could see what I could do on track from the races in F2 and GP3 that I did win. I like to think it was never a question of if I was talented enough for F1, not to be cocky, but I knew I was - it was whether or not it was worth risking me in Ferrari or if maybe I should start in a sister team. But in the end, it was for the best. I won them two championships after all, so I’d like to think that it was worth it.

Speaking of championships, not only are you the only woman to win the WDC but also the youngest overall, how did you feel?

A fond smile tugs at her lips and she reaches into her bag to pull out a small stack of photos. She slides one across the table to me - it’s of her in her driver’s room, helmet off but still in her full kit with her arms wrapped around the trophy that won her the title. I asked her who took it and she told me it was ‘Seb’ - Sebastian Vettel.

I was so overwhelmed. Everything I had ever dreamed of had come true but I couldn’t share it with anyone outside of Team Thirty and, of course, Seb. He brought a bottle of champagne up to my room and we drank the whole thing. It was one of the best days of my life, wouldn’t change it. If being faceless was what gave me the opportunity to accomplish my dream? Then I’m grateful for it.

And then you won your second in 2018, how was that?

Even better than the first time. Lewis and I had such an intense rivalry for those couple of years that it was such a strong feeling of victory. We raced so well against each other and really brought out the best in each other, I think. I’m not sure if he feels the same but I’m glad that we got to share that experience.

The couple both offer me another drink in unison when they notice I’ve finished mine, sharing a soft laugh when they realise. Charles leans over and presses a gentle kiss to her temple before taking our empty cups up to the counter to get us some more coffees. The two seemed so in sync as teammates, it’s no surprise that they work well as a couple too.

How was the transition when Charles joined the team? You’d been teammates with Sebastian for your entire career up until that point.

Honestly? It was a little scary at first. Seb was a mentor for me and when I had to meet Charles properly for the first time I was worried about how he would react. But, he’s been nothing but good to me. Before we started dating he’d always sneak into my driver’s room to keep me company and made sure that no matter how my race went - I had someone to talk to about it. He’s become my rock and I’m so lucky to have him.

He pushes me to be better, but has never let me be anything but myself.

When Charles returns to the table with a tray with fresh cups of coffee, he hands them out to us before sitting down - shuffling his chair closer to y/n so he can fully drape his arm across her shoulders. She relaxes in his hold, looking away from me for a moment to thank him for the drinks.

I know we’re interviewing y/n, but Charles, what was it like having to keep formula one’s biggest secret?

Difficult. He frowns a little. The amount of times I wanted to properly congratulate y/n or correct people when they said he was insane. I know I may get in trouble for this but I think keeping her hidden for so long was a mistake. Other women and girls should’ve been able to know that one of them was a formula 1 racer and a champion. She’s one of the greatest of our generation and she should’ve been celebrated properly.

I can see she’s touched by Charles’ words, despite - I’m sure - he’s said them to her before. This article is about learning about Thirty, yes, but I don’t think I can truly do that justice without talking about how the pair of them interact. I’m not sure whether it’s the years they’ve been teammates or the time they’ve been a couple but they just complement each other so easily.

So, you were teammates through 2020 and 2021, how did this relationship happen and why now?

The two of them share a look, one - as a journalist - I’m familiar with; whilst they do truly seem to care for each other, I have a suspicion there’s something they can’t tell me. But I don’t press.

I think during 2020 we were still just strangers, getting to know each other as people and as teammates. We didn’t spend a whole lot of time together outside of Team Thirty meetings or on the track y’know? And then 2021 I was in that title fight right up to the end so it just didn’t seem like the right time as I couldn’t really give him the attention he deserved.

We did begin to really become friends during 2021, he would make the extra effort to see me outside of meetings. And whilst Charles has since told me that he’s had these feelings for a long time, it took me a little longer. We’re definitely a case of he fell first, but I fell harder. I’m so smitten with this boy, you have no idea.

Charles was watching her as she spoke, the undeniable pink tinge of his cheeks was hard to miss. No matter what they were keeping to themselves, it was clear the two of them were very happy together. But it was time for more questions about the Thirty of it all.

So, why now? You’ve been faceless for nearly 6 years, what changed?

Well, after it leaked that I was a woman and I won the race in Imola - Team Thirty and I had a very big meeting about it. I’ve been ready to face the world for a while but with the team determined for another championship win this year, it was originally put on the back burner. But, I knew it was time. This year I could win my 3rd title and I wanted to do it with my face, my name not just a number.

I’ve also had so much support from both Charles and Sebastian with this. They helped me figure out just what to say to the team to convince them that now is the right time. I don’t know how long I’ve got left in this sport but I want to be here as y/n for at least some of it.

She excuses herself from the table to go to the restroom, that same fragrance from before following her as she walks past me. Charles sips at his coffee before leaning forward a little as if he’s got something juicy to share. I can’t help but be intrigued, leaning in also to listen.

She’s gonna do it, you know. The WDC is hers this year.

What about you? I ask. Shocked that he’d admit it about his teammate, he’s the Tifosi’s golden boy and is ahead of her in terms of points. He simply smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

I think now she’s got this out in the open, there’s truly nothing holding her back. She’s going to be unstoppable behind the wheel- this weight of her secret won’t weigh her down anymore. Yes, I want to be world champion, and you bet I’m going to fight for it until the very end… but I would be lying if I didn’t think she deserved it.

He straightens up in his seat as she returns, smiling as she leans down to kiss him before taking her seat - asking if she missed anything important. I know she’ll read what Charles said when the article is released but for now I keep it to myself, simply shaking my head.

Okay, let’s mix it up, get to know y/n a little more. What is your favourite track and why?

I think Bahrain is always going to hold a special place in my heart, I got my first win there. But, if I had to choose an all time favourite…I think it has to be a tie between Imola and Monza. Being surrounded by the Tifosi in such hoards really makes you want to do your best. Seeing oceans of red as you drive around is inspiring knowing all these people are in your corner. Now, I know in recent years, they’ve taken a particular liking to a certain Monaco native but they always showed me nothing but support and I hope they continue to do so now they know who I am.

Speaking of the Tifosi, do you have anything you want to say to them?

I mostly want to thank them for being my biggest supporters despite not knowing who was beneath the helmet. Thank you a million over Tifosi, I love you guys more than you’ll ever know.

Who was your racing hero growing up?

Oh there’s so many drivers out there I love but Susie Wolff for sure - she’s such an inspiration to women everywhere. And I know it’s probably silly but Lella Lombardi too, I know she only got half a point in her career but she made it into formula one when everything was against her and other women. But as a kid, it had to be Michael Schumacher. I met him a couple of times and he was nothing but kind to me. He was always honest with me that it was going to be tougher being a girl but he always believed in me and that… that was everything.

We’ve also heard through the grapevine that you’ve been approached by several other teams for next season, anything we should know there?

She smiles softly before shaking her head. Ferrari have actually matched the best offer I received, but at the end of the day they’re the team I want to race with so we’ve extended my contract for at least one more season - hopefully more. Besides, I’ve got the best teammate a girl could ask for.

Charles chuckled softly. Back at you, mon amour.

I think that’s all I really have to ask for now, thank you both so much for meeting with me. I’m not sure what I expected but you exceeded my expectations.

Oh wow, thank you so much. Thank you for being so kind… If I ever need to do another interview, you’ll be the first person I call. That’s for sure.

So there you have it, y/n y/ln is our mystery driver. I don’t know about you but I cannot wait to see what she does now that she’s been unmasked. This season has just got very interesting.

***

***

You weren’t a fool, you knew there was going to be a little push-back to your reveal - but there was a very loud minority who made it abundantly clear just how much they hated you, that they just didn’t believe you could possibly be the driver they had been supporting all these years. Within an hour of GQ releasing the article, #NotMyThirty was trending within the F1 community. They’d called you every insult under the sun and it was hard to focus on the praise when they were so loud and the press focused so much on the criticism. It didn’t help that once you’d been revealed, a certain Redbull team principal decided you weren’t worth the offer they made and he very publicly retracted it.

“Y/n, cherie.” You felt the mattress sink next to you as Charles sat beside you on the bed - the duvet pulled over your head. “We need to go soon, have a plane to catch.”

“...why don’t they just get Jenson to do it. Or better yet, get Michael up and on his feet so he can get in the car when I couldn’t possibly be a two time world champion.” You grumbled. “I’m just a stupid paddock-bunny.”

Charles frowned softly. “Hey. Those idiots have no idea what they’re talking about. You’re one of the greatest talents of our generation, they’re just jealous fools who couldn’t get into the sport if they tried.”

The Monegasque smiled softly as you peeked over the top of the duvet. It was hard for you to believe him but you knew he was going to sit there until he got you out of bed - so you put on your best fake smile. “You always know just what to say, huh?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, pulling a gentle hum from you. “Mhmm hmm, I’ve got a talent for it. Now seriously, get your beautiful butt out of bed… we’ve got a flight to catch.”

You weren’t sure what to expect when you arrived in Miami, Charles’ hand wrapped around yours as you both stepped into the paddock. The cameras and press were on you in a literal flash, you simply smiled and waved a little. “Hey, y/n, look.”

When you followed the direction of Charles’ finger, your heart skipped a beat when you saw fans at the barrier with signs for you. The loud minority who despised you were currently nowhere to be seen - people shouting and cheering. Your boyfriend was positively beaming as he tugged you over to them, you couldn’t believe people actually wanted your autograph and pictures with you.

You could feel tears prickling in your eyes when a young girl told you just how much it meant to her that she had a female idol in the sport. It was hard not wrap your arms around her and never let go so instead you took a photo with her. “I got you a present… made it as soon as I found out you were a girl like me, it’s a bit messy ‘cus I didn’t have a lot of time.”

As you held your hand out, she slipped a bracelet around your wrist - it was made out of chunky plastic beads; flowers, fake pearls and the word Thirty written out in pink. It was the girliest thing you had ever seen but you could tell just how much it meant to the girl - her little eyes sparkling as she waited for your response.

“I love it! Thank you so much!” You grinned. “Hey, I’ve got something for you as well.”

You took your cap off of your head and scribbled your signature on the brim before sitting it atop her head. “Think this suits you much better.”

Your heart felt full as she turned to her Dad and bounced with glee, showing off her brand new present. You smiled softly and as you turned to Charles, you were suddenly hit with a sharp pain in the side of the head, right by your eyebrow - making you wince and reach up, eyes widening when you pulled your hand back and you saw blood on your fingers. You only just saw a glimpse of security dragging a man shouting expletives away from the crowd. “Oh my god, y/n, are you okay?”

“Yeah uh… what..” You blinked a few times, feeling a little dizzy, eyes scanning the floor to see what he’d hit you with - eyes landing on a crumpled up can, as you pushed your toe against it, you could feel there was still some liquid in it. “I… I uh…I think I should probably go to the medical centre, just to be safe.”

“Of course, shit, yeah.” Charles looped an arm around your waist and helped you through the paddock. Before you left, you caught the eyes of the young girl again and the look on her face broke you - she looked terrified. She was the walking personification of how you felt in that moment.

You had to fight back the tears as the two of you walked through the paddock - the memory of meeting some of your fans for the first time, tainted forever by that one dickhead in a Redbull cap. You were expecting some hatred, but you weren’t expecting physical violence. As you stepped into the medical centre, you were immediately ushered into a room and patched up.

“I can’t believe he did that, cherie. I’m so sorry… I-I should’ve been paying better attention.”

Your brow furrowed as you got up from the exam table, the medic having left the two of you alone. Charles stood against the wall, head lowered as you crossed the room to join him.

“Hey, hey.” You took his face in your hands. “Don’t you dare, you couldn’t have known he was going to do that… I… I’m starting to think this was a mistake.”

“Y/n-”

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, I just… I knew there was going to be some backlash but, I’m not sure I’m cut out for this…”

“Cherie-”

“Can I just be alone for a little while, please? I’ll catch up with you later.”

Your teammate’s eyes flickered across you, you could tell he wanted to protest but instead he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before leaving you alone. The lights in the room hummed softly as you sat down in the empty chair beside the exam table, covering your face with your hands and letting out a soft sob.

Being unmasked was what you’ve wanted for as long as you could remember, but you hadn’t taken the time to really think about exactly what that meant. That your face, your name would be out there for everyone to pick apart. You wanted to put on a brave face and go out there, pretend it didn’t bother you but it did.

None of your achievements mattered - all that they cared about is that you were a woman, a fake, the drivers’ personal mattress. And your relationship with Charles was thrown right back in your face, the defending Ferrari was supposed to be doing didn’t seem to be helping at all. Any time the PR team spoke to the press, people always had some sort of comeback - another reason to add to the list of why you didn’t deserve any of it.

You rubbed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to shove all of the cruel accusations to the back of your head as you left the medical centre. As you turned towards the Ferrari motorhome, you saw Lewis leant against the wall - foot propped up against the wall as he scrolled on his phone, no one even batting an eye at him. He looked up at the sound of the door closing and gave you a gentle smile, pushing his phone into his pocket. “Hey, I just came to check if you’re okay. I heard what happened.”

“Said it was gonna come up as a bit of a black-eye but I’ll be alright.” You shrugged.

“I’m more worried about how you’re feeling, y/n. I know no one knows what you’re going through right now but I’ve been through similar enough crap to know that it’s not fun being singled out for something you can’t help.” His voice was soft as he stepped closer. “And I know it’s easier said than done but you just gotta try and ignore it.”

“...I don’t know if I can.” Your voice cracked. “Th-They’re attacking insecurities I didn’t even know I had. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this, Lewis.”

He looked around the paddock before checking his watch. “We’ve got some time, come with me.”

You lowered your head and followed your fellow driver into the Mercedes motorhome through a back entrance and up to his room - his dark eyes flickering back to you to make sure you were following close behind him. With a hand on the small of your back he ushered you into his room, closing the door behind. “You should probably text Charles, let him know you’re here.”

“Uh yeah… Yeah, good idea.”After texting your boyfriend, you sat beside your rival on the sofa, his arm draped across the back. “They’re going to crucify me if I have any bad races. Any mistake, any slip up… they’re going to drag me to hell and back. I just… I know I should ignore it, I do, but it’s hard to ignore when it’s smacking me in the side of the face.”

“”I know, I get it. I’ve been there… you just need to try and remember you’re not alone. I’ve got your back, so do Charles, Max and Sebastian. Don’t disappear into yourself, okay?” His voice was gentle but firm, but it just felt so quiet compared to the throbbing pain you felt in your temple.

You nodded. “Yeah, I know. Thank you… I should get going.”

You were taken a little aback when you were pulled into a hug as you stood, his strong arms would’ve made you feel safe in any other circumstance you were sure - but you just felt so defeated by it all. You gave him a gentle squeeze before heading towards your own garage, Charles throwing you a worried look from his side - still unsure how you’d ended up with Lewis. You simply nodded at him before popping into a side room to get into your racegear, ready to get into the car for the first time without your mask on.

“Hey, how’s the suit fit?” Your trainer approached you, a gentle smile on his face. “Must feel good that it’s finally got your name on it, right?”

“Uh yeah, it fits good.” To the untrained eye, the smile on your face was simply of a distracted person - getting ready to race, but Charles could read you like a book and he just knew something was wrong. Something more than a slight headache and the bruise blossoming around your eye was weighing you down and getting into the car in the mental headspace you were in was trouble waiting to happen.

But before he could cross over to you, try and clear your head just a little bit, he was summoned for first practice - one of his mechanics ushering him over to his car, allowing the driver to get one final glance at you as you pulled your helmet over your head.

All he could do now was hope that you wouldn’t get in your own way - as having a bad weekend would just sink you deeper into the feeling you weren’t good enough. You were a champion for a reason. But the minority who despised you were tearing you down, blocking your view from who you truly were and he hated that.

You took a deep breath from inside the cockpit, trying your best to block out the voices bouncing around your head as your engineer went over the programmes you would be running during the session. You just had to do well this weekend, no, not just well… you had to win. Everything was resting on your shoulders, they expected results now you were unmasked.

And you were terrified of what they’d do if you didn't.

***

************************

Next part >>>

Really hope you guys enjoyed this one!! There will be no chapter next weekend because I’m going to Silverstone 🏎️

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[its-time-to-write]

i think we could do it if we tried

So I misread a prompt, and didn’t realize until halfway through the fic. This was the result and it ended up being weirdly personal? If you hate it or think it’s unrealistic, I know, it’s just wishful thinking, ok?😭

i think we could do it if we tried

You’re sure Jamie’s expression will be burned into your mind forever. After all, you’re the one who put it there. 

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” you say, tears streaming down your face, “I’m the one who’s breaking up with you.”

Jamie just laughs wetly. “Not your fault, though, is it?”

That just makes you cry harder. 

You and Jamie had been friends for a long time, and he’d been in love with you forever. You didn’t return the feeling until you turned eighteen. It was on your birthday, actually. He had insisted on wearing a birthday hat all day, despite that fact that he was at training and you were at home, so you didn’t see each other until the end of the day. Something about seeing the sparkly cone on his head did something to your heart, and there it was; you loved him. 

You suppose the love was always there, lying dormant, but now it had arisen. It took you a week to muster up the courage to tell him, but you did and now it felt like the world made sense. 

Now, a month later, you’re breaking up with him. 

Jamie had been playing football for a while now, and he was really, really good. You were beginning your studies as an undergrad and had your life mapped out until grad school. He was moving away soon and you were leaving tomorrow, but that wasn’t the reason you were breaking up. 

It’s because your parents didn’t approve. 

“I can’t make them understand,” you tell Jamie, willing yourself not to cry. “And… I know I’m eighteen, but they’re paying for university. They said they’d pay all the way through grad school, and I can’t afford it on my own.”

Jamie nods and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“God, it’s fuckin’ shitty, ain’t it?” he says. “Me ‘n you, finally figuring it out too late.”

You can only nod and sniff. Your parents told you that Jamie was a good friend, but nothing more. 

“You’re only projecting feelings onto him because you know he likes you,” your mum had said. “And besides, he plays football. Can’t support a family on that, can you?”

Any protests you made fell on deaf ears. Your parents never explicitly said they’d pull their financial support, but it was hinted. It hung in the air, poisoning the atmosphere in the house. Your mother’s displeasure saturated the building, affecting everyone inside. 

So here you are, standing in the dim light of Jamie’s mum’s porch, breaking up with him at 10pm. 

He knew it was coming, too. 

“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, yeah?” he’d said two days earlier. 

You just nodded.

“I’ve been thinking about quitting football,” he continued, “Get a real job, stay closer.”

You had protested vehemently. He loved football, and he was good, like really good, and how could you ask him to give it up?

So yeah, it wasn’t a total blindside. 

Still hurt, though. 

You stood there, a long time, without speaking. You were memorizing each other’s faces and the way it felt being together for the last time. 

There’s a light on in Georgie’s room, and you wonder if she’ll still love you despite the fact you broke her baby’s heart. 

Jamie finally breaks the silence. “You should go,” he says, “before your parents figure out you’re gone.”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you just reach out and squeeze his hand. He pulls you in for a hug, the tightest one you’ve ever received, and you never want to let go. But you do. 

You fight the urge to say I’ll wait for you. I’ll find you when I’m done with school. We’ll make it work. But you don’t want to give him false hope. You don’t want to hurt him more than you already have. 

So instead, you whisper “I love you, Jamie Tartt,” and force yourself to walk away. 

— 

That was six years ago. You pushed yourself through school, got out with your BA in three and a half years, and scraped through your MA in two. There were times it felt a little like hell, but you persevered. 

You’re pretty sure the worst moment was during your third year, when your roommate, a football aficionado, started talking about Man City’s hotshot new player.  

“Oh my god, he’s like, so fucking sexy. The things he does on the pitch… he’s like, revolutionized the game.”

“Hm,” you say noncommittally, lost in a textbook. 

“Yeah, heard he’s a bit of a prick though. Grew up in Manchester, and he’s about our age. D’you reckon you knew him?”

“What?” you say, finally lifting your eyes from the page. “I didn’t grow up in Manchester, just lived there when I was a teenager.”

Your roommate shrugs. “Did you know a ‘Jamie Tartt?’ Dating Keeley Jones?”

And there it was. The worst moment of your whole university career. 

You turn back to your book in order to hide your face. “Doesn’t sound familiar,” you say, and your roommate doesn’t push it. She’s too busy telling you how Jamie and Keeley are the hottest, most perfect couple she’s ever seen. 

You’re past that now. It still feels like a stabbing pain every time you hear his name or see his face on a screen, but for the most part, you’ve shut down that part of your brain. 

You might have shut it down a little too successfully. 

In the last six years, you’ve been in exactly two relationships. Both short-lived, both leaving you with a sense of apathy. 

But, your parents approved of both of them. Didn’t matter that they were shallow, self-absorbed dickheads; “He’s cute and has a good job!” your mum had said, oblivious to the fact that she was replaying the exact same pitch to you from before. 

You had felt a rush of relief when the news hit that Jamie and Keeley had broken up. You hated hearing about all his escapades, and how much he hurt her. It made your heart ache, knowing he was burying himself in his prickish attitude the same way you were burying yourself in yours. 

Well, maybe that’s too harsh. You aren’t a prick per se, you’re just… cold. Emotionless. You felt very little this days, because every time you felt the tiniest bit of anything, everything threatened to overwhelm you. 

After school, you just… kept moving. No sense in going home, you loved your family but they made you feel like you were drowning. And you couldn’t make yourself go back to Manchester. 

Georgie called you from time to time, checking up on you. Turns out she didn’t hate you. She was actually rather worried. She never, ever mentioned Jamie. 

“You can’t just stop living life, love,” she had said one time. “That’s all it is: love and loss. You just keep moving forward.”

You took her advice literally, securing a good job that allowed you to work remotely. You moved to the east side of London, West Ham, but were never at your flat longer than a week. After all, you were hot and had a good job. Why not travel? You had no strings keeping you anywhere. 

Now you’re back in West Ham for two weeks, getting ready to go to Barcelona. A friend has a timeshare that she can’t make it to, so you volunteered to go. After all, it’s better to be apathetic in Barcelona than it is in West Ham, right?

Whatever the case, you’re here for much longer than you’d like to be, but you’re going to make the best of it. You have a friend from uni who lives near you, so you’re going out tonight. She wants to go to some upscale restaurant a couple minutes from your flat with a few other girls, and you decide that you’d rather not be alone tonight.

You don’t mention that it’s your birthday. You stopped celebrating them at nineteen.

Your hair and makeup are done, you’ve put together an appropriate fancy-dinner outfit, and you’d say you’re looking classy. You grab your bag and head out the door.

It’s only a ten-minute walk, and there are all kinds of people out. You wonder why, then remember it’s Saturday. That explains it. 

There’s an especially rowdy bunch of guys up ahead, seemingly corralled by a middle-aged man with a mustache. As you draw closer, you hear his accent. American, specifically mid-Western. You breeze by them, catching snatches of their conversations and a mix of accents.

Your ear tunes into someone saying, “…not what really happened,” with an accent that reminds you so much of Jamie’s, you find yourself rooted to your spot in the sidewalk, turning around to confirm that it is not, in fact, him.

You make eye contact with the middle-aged mustached man, who smiles at you and shrugs. “Footballers. What a rowdy bunch,” he says, “Wonder where their coach’s at?”

You surmise by his jocular tone that he’s their coach.

You give him a small smile and he comes over to you. Your feet still won’t move, because you haven’t confirmed that the voice was not Jamie. Or maybe because this man is a gaffer, and you want him to say something, anything about possibly knowing Jamie Tartt.

“I’m Ted,” he says, sticking out his hand.

You shake it and give him your name. At this point, his team have noticed that their coach is talking to someone new, and they descend like a flock of curious children.

There’s a chorus of hellos and one hola, but it’s all a little lost because all you can hear is one soft, “hey.”

“Hi,” you breathe. 

One look into Jamie Tartt’s blue eyes and you’re a goner, even after six years.

Ted looks from you to Jamie. “Oh, do y’all know each other? Jamie, why didn’t you say something?”

“Dunno,” Jamie says, keeping his eyes on you.

Ted, great man that he is, assesses the situation with alarming perception.

“Alright boys, why don’t we let Jamie catch up with his lady-friend, and we’ll just text him where we end up, sound good?” 

It does not sound good to them, because they can tell something interesting is about to happen, but Ted and another bearded American herd them away and down the street, leaving you and Jamie alone on the sidewalk.

“How you been?” he asks, looking awkward as you feel.

“I’ve been…” what word is there to describe how you’ve been? You settle for a shrug.

He nods and huffs out a single chuckle. “Yeah, that about sums it up, don’t it?”

“What about you?” you ask, reaching out to lightly tap his arm. “Heard you were some hotshot footballer.”

Jamie imitates your shrug. “Heard you were some hotshot something or the other.”

You crack a small smile at that. “Georgie tell you?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says, “Felt the need to keep me updated. Don’t fuckin’ know why though.”

That hurts a little bit. This is a mistake, you think. You begin to realize, perhaps for the first time, that your pining after him was pointless. And one-sided.

That is, until Jamie says so softly you almost miss it, “Happy birthday, by the way.”

There it is. 

You open your mouth to say, I love you, but what comes out instead is, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jamie asks in surprise.

“I’m just… sorry. For everything. For walking away. I don’t know, I feel like I should have fought it or something… I think about you all the time. I wish that I would’ve done something different, I guess. I know I can’t change it, but…” you shrug helplessly. 

Jamie just looks at you, head tilted. 

You huff out an awkward laugh. “Anyway. I should probably go. Meeting a bunch of girls for drinks and dinner.”

“You hate that shit,” Jamie says, and it comes out the exact same way he would have said it six years ago. Like he’s comfortable with you, like he knows every single tick in your brain.

“I do,” you agree ruefully. “Just couldn’t get out of it, I guess. Didn’t have a good excuse.”

“Go out with me,” Jamie suggests, impulsively. But then, he was never one for forethought. 

Your mouth opens to decline, then shuts.

“You’re done with school, yeah?” Jamie continues, “Mum said you haven’t been home in ages. Said she knows more about you than your parents. What if… what if we gave it another go? We’re fuckin’ adults, ain’t we? Let’s just fucking try.”

He’s looking at you, so full of anxious hope that it makes you want to cry. You can feel a few tears fighting their way forward.

“Jamie,” you say, “Jamie I don’t know. I mean- I hurt you. I knew what I was doing would hurt you and I did it anyway. I could hurt you again.”

Jamie replies, “Weren’t your fault though, was it?” and you’re taken back so vividly to that front porch.

You look at him, really look at him for the first time in six years. He’s older, you realize, and you think that he must think something similar about you. He’s calmer, almost- gentler? Still the same Jamie though, with the blonde highlights and the slit in his eyebrow. Outrageous sense of fashion, one that is no longer dulled by the ominous presence of his father. He’s more sure of himself, you think, and you realize you’re more sure too.

There isn’t anything hanging over your head threatening to take your livelihood away.

It’s poetic, really. You, him, in the dim streetlight. Deciding to begin again exactly six years after it ended.

“Jamie,” you say again, because you love the way his name feels on your lips, “I didn’t ever stop loving you. I don’t ever want to stop loving you.”

He’s taken a step closer, and there’s mere centimeters between you. 

“Y’know I’d never want you to put your life on hold for me, right?” you whisper, “Been thinking about stopping traveling. Maybe settle down closer, focus on my job more.”

Jamie smiles. “Go out with me,” he says. “Skip your dinner. You’d have a shit time, anyway.”

You smile back and reach out for his hand. It still fits perfectly in yours. Maybe even better.

“I would love to.”

[flufffilleddonut]

Family Bonding

Summary - While Lucifer is now helping Charlie with the Hazbin Hotel, he still feels remorseful for not offering his services sooner. Luckily, with some help from Vaggie, Charlie knows just how to make him feel better.

Word Count - 1080

-

Lucifer was at the Hazbin Hotel, hovering in one of the hallways filled with doors to the residents’ rooms. He was by one of the ceiling lights, attempting to fix it, as it would not light up.

Charlie was walking down the hallway to check in on her father’s progress, with Vaggie accompanying her. As the couple rounded a corner, Charlie spotted her father up by the light. He had a look of sorrow on his face, as his hands fiddled with the light fixture.

“Dad? Is everything okay?” Charlie called out.

Lucifer turned and looked at his daughter before abandoning the light and flying down to the pair.

“Charlie, I…” He started, pausing for a moment. “I’m sorry that I’ve failed you so much.”

Charlie was slightly taken aback.

“Dad, it’s okay.” She reassured him. “It's just a light. We could always get it replaced.”

“No, it’s not the light. I just… I wish that I got involved in your project sooner. I wish that I was there for you, helping out since day one. I should’ve been, and there’s no excuse for why I wasn’t.” Lucifer said, looking down at the ground.

Charlie’s expression turned to one of empathy.

“We can’t change the past, Dad. If we could, I’m sure we all have things that we would do differently.” Charlie said, looking over at Vaggie, who smiled in response. Charlie turned back to her father, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s important is that you’re here now, trying your best to help out and make up for lost time.”

Lucifer looked up at Charlie, a slight smile on his face.

“Thanks, Charlie. That helps to hear. I suppose it’s just hard not to feel a bit sad remembering the bad things you’ve done in the past, y’know?” Lucifer said, his smile fading a bit.

Vaggie turned her head away. She could relate.

Charlie didn’t like seeing her father upset, and wished that there was a way she could make him feel better. She thought back to when she was a child, and how her father used to cheer her up when she was sad. Suddenly, she got an idea.

Charlie gave Lucifer a light shove, causing him to fall back onto the carpeted floor. She then planted herself on his waist, pinning him down.

“Vaggie! Come get his arms!” Charlie called out, beaming.

Vaggie was reluctant, but figured that Charlie had some sort of unorthodox plan to cheer up the King of Hell. She walked over and sat on her legs opposite Charlie, Lucifer’s hands being pinned beneath her knees.

“Uh, Ch-Charlie, dear, what are you doing?” Lucifer said, concern evident in his voice.

“Making you feel better the way you taught me!” Charlie chimed.

“And uh, how exactly might that b-'' Lucifer began, the sight of Charlie’s wiggling fingers inching towards him before being pulled back cutting him off.

Lucifer began to squirm, a nervous smile appearing on his face. He understood what Charlie meant, and knew that he could never bring himself to use his powers on his daughter or her girlfriend, leaving him helpless to their attack.

“Now, Charlie, I’m sure we can talk about this. No need to make any hasty decisions.” Lucifer pleaded, keeping his eyes trained on Charlie’s fluttering fingers.

Recognizing the situation, Vaggie spoke up.

“Tsk, tsk. You should have known better than to be upset around the hotel’s very own Tickle Monster. Now she has to tickle the sadness out of you. Trust me, I’ve experienced it before.” She said with a smirk.

Lucifer flushed, squirming more madly.

“Girls, please. We can work something else out, right?” He pleaded further.

“Hmm…” Charlie said, pretending to think. “Nope, too late! Tickles it is!”

With that, Charlie dug her wiggling fingers into Lucifer’s stomach, making him shriek before laughter started pouring out of his mouth.

“NAHAHA! CHAHAHAHARLIE!” Lucifer laughed out, his wings beginning to flap against the ground.

Vaggie giggled softly. 

“Wow Hon, I see where you get it from.” She teased.

“Vaaaagie!” Charlie whined, a slight blush appearing on her face. “You’re supposed to help tease my dad, not me!”

Vaggie chucked. 

“Sorry babe, couldn’t help myself.”

Lucifer continued laughing helplessly beneath the girls.

“NOHOHO! AHAHAHA! PLEHEHE-AHAHAHA!” He attempted to plead, Charlie’s fingers continuing to dance around his stomach.

Not wanting to break him so quickly, Charlie removed her hands and placed them behind herself, latching onto the underside of her father’s knees. She began gently scraping her nails against the area.

Lucifer flinched at the contact, becoming jumpy as Charlie attacked the sensitive spot. His legs started lightly kicking up and down, as his wings continued to flap.

“Ehehehe! Chahaharlie! Spahahare yohour old fahahather!” He giggled out.

“Not until I’m certain that you’re feeling better!” Charlie said playfully.

As Vaggie watched Lucifer’s wings flap against the ground, she got an idea.

“Hey, Charlie, check this out.” Vaggie said, reaching her hands over to Lucifer’s top set of wings.

“I aham feheheeling behetter, I prohom- eEE!” Lucifer began, a squeal arising as Vaggie wiggled her fingers into his wings.

“NAHAHA! STAHAHAP! AHAHAHA!” Lucifer laughed loudly.

“Woah! I didn’t know that wings could be ticklish!” Charlie said in amazement, as she switched to attacking Lucifer’s bottom set of wings.

“Oh, they are. Greatly so, in fact.” Vaggie said, remembering the times she and her fellow exorcists playfully fought one another.

“PLEHEHE-AHAHAHA! GIR-AHAHAHAHA! MEHEHERC-AHAHAHAHAHA!” Lucifer attempted to plead, finding that he was barely able to form words.

Worried that she might overdo things, Charlie slowed her hands to a stop and pulled them away from her father, with Vaggie following suit.

As Charlie and Vaggie got off of Lucifer, he curled in on himself, hiding away his wings and attempting to catch his breath.

“Well, I’d say that you have been sufficiently cheer- aH!” Charlie started, her statement cut off as her father yanked her to the ground, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Never change.” He said, keeping her in his hold.

“Aww! I won’t, Dad.” Charlie said, returning the embrace.

Charlie motioned for Vaggie to join them. When she walked within arm’s length, both Charlie and Lucifer pulled her down into the hug. Vaggie blushed slightly.

“We’re going to be here a while, aren’t we?” Vaggie questioned, although she felt that she already knew the answer.

“Yup.” Charlie and Lucifer said in unison.

Vaggie sighed defeatedly, despite the smile on her face.

Guess the light will have to wait.

-

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Ngl, I kinda forgot I was trying to do this in alternating POVs. That… kinda failed for a minute. Oops. But here’s Robin! And Wayne!

Part 1 | . . . | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37

“How could I have him and lose him in the same moment?” Steve asks, and he sounds so sad that Robin wants to wrap him in a hug and about four fuzzy blankets and give him hot cocoa and kill whoever made him sad. Except, she thinks, that would be Eddie, which would really just make Steve even more sad-

She stops her train of thought.

“Want me to go yell at him again? It worked the first time,” she says, just a hint of a grin in her voice, and it works because Steve sounds further from tears next time he speaks.

They joke a little more, until she feels comfortable leaving him, and when he drops her off at home she barely drops her things inside before bolting to grab her bike.

She pedals hard all the way to Forest Hills. She’s about to dump her bike before she sees Wayne on the front porch, smoking, so she carefully lays it down instead.

“Afternoon,” he says.

“Hi, Mr. Wayne,” she replies politely. “Is Eddie home?”

He tells her no, that he’s gone to apologize to Steve, and invites her in for tea and a talk. She thinks for a second before mentally shrugging and accepting.

He holds the door open for her and begins talking as he grabs a mug. She’s delighted to see that the inside reads, You’ve been poisoned! and says as much.

Wayne grins. “‘S become a habit of mine, collecting these mugs. My momma always said there ain’t much a cup of tea can’t fix, and I’ve found she’s right. Plus, havin’ a fun mug lifts your spirits.”

Robin chuckles. “That it does.”

“Now,” Wayne says, turning to face her. “I’m guessin’ you’re here to kick my nephew’s ass again.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir.” Wayne makes a face. “I’ve got a good name that none o’you younguns ever uses. Call me Wayne.”

Robin giggles. “Will do, Wayne.”

Wayne nods. “Good. Now, ‘bout Eddie. You let me say my piece, and I’ll let you decide whether or not he deserves another kick in the ass. Fair?”

“Fair,” Robin agrees.

“Alright then. My Eddie’s not a bad kid, though I’m guessing you know that.” He pauses to take a sip of his tea. “Sometimes he does things without thinking them through, just like everyone. Sometimes people scare him.” Her hackles raise, and Wayne raises placating hands. “I’m not saying any of this is your Steve’s fault. All I’m sayin’ is, people do stupid things when they’ve been hurt in the past.”

Robin cocks her head. “Eddie was hurt?”

Wayne hums around another sip. “The details ain’t mine to give, but yes. He was. Just about a year ago now. I almost had a stupid reaction to what he told me.”

“What stopped you?”

Wayne shrugs. “Experience, partially. But you helped too.”

Her eyes widen. “Me?”

“Yup. See, Eddie’s real observant. So when he came t’me a few months ago, talkin’ ‘bout how he thought you were the same as him, I had an idea of the kinda person you are. No tolerance for idiots, at least those who aren’t your friends. Loyal to those who are. And I thought, now why would she stick around him if he’s that kinda person? And I came to the conclusion that he’s not. Or he’s not intentionally. So. Pair that with the way Eddie’d been acting, and I had a pretty good idea of what was goin’ on.”

Robin nods. “Y’know what Steve said to him?”

Wayne hums. “Somethin’ bout how he’d never been with another guy?”

Robin nods again. “Exactly. And to have Eddie react like that…”

Wayne sighs and tips his head back until he’s looking at the ceiling. “Lord knows I love that boy,” he murmurs. “But he sure does know how to get himself into trouble.”

Robin grins. “And how to get himself out of trouble?”

Wayne snorts and looks at her. “Outta the frying pan, into the fire, more like.”

Robin giggles. “Yeah, I kinda got that impression.”

Just then the phone rings, and Wayne raises a brow at it, then sighs and stands to answer it, waving Robin down when she starts to stand as well,

“Munson residence, y’got Wayne.” He hums. “Wayne’s just fine, son, none‘a that Mr. Munson crap. She is, I’ll hand it over in just a second. My nephew apologize to you yet?” A grunt. “Good. Here she is.” He waves her over, and she hurriedly swallows a sip of tea before hopping over to the phone. “Steve?”

“Hey. The little shit found Dart.”

Robin breathes out a laugh. “Jesus. D’we gotta kill it and live with his sad face now?”

“That’s the thing, though, is it did help. He fuckin’ domesticated the thing.”

“Okay, so which one of us is gonna tell him?” She asks, in a tone that means it’s gonna be Steve.

He laughs, “well I’m not gonna tell him.”

“The fuck you’re not,” she argues, “you’re his second mom, dingus, it sure as shit ain’t gonna be me.”

He squawks, “I am not his-”

She hangs up on him with a satisfying click and a smug grin.

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[lunatiqez]

“DRUNKEN CONFESSIONS” — Simon Riley

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

GENRE: Romance

SUMMARY: Soap decides that a night out would be beneficial to his two best friends, Ghost and Y/N; however, Ghost has something he’s been hiding from Y/N

WARNINGS: Alcohol, drinking, flirting under the influence (??), mutual pining, sappy little babygirl ghost

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

A/N: Tysm to @lu-vin-it for proofreading my fic even though u don’t have a clue ab COD!! PART TWO

YOU’D NEVER KNOWN SIMON “GHOST”Riley very well. He was just another guy in the 141, and at most, one of Soap’s buddies. In all honesty, you were terrified of the man.

His big figure, his deep voice, his dark mannerisms— hell, the way he didn’t show his face to anyone even freaked you out. Despite this, you would often catch yourself admiring him from afar. Sneakily watching him in the training room, catching glances at him in the base late at night. Occasionally, he’d catch you, making you internally panic.

The strange thing is, he’d continue staring. It was as if he was a predator stalking his prey. He wouldn’t look away until something else caught his attention.

“I dunno, Soap. It’s just— ugh! I don’t know!” You groaned in frustration.

“Yeah, I hear ya.” He says, leaning against your room’s doorframe.

You sat up from your bed and looked him in the face.

“He’s- there’s somethin’ about him. He’s terrifying but weirdly charming.”

“Ah well, y’know. He’s not my type personally—“

“Shut the fuck up Johnny.” You snorted, to which he shrugged.

“I’ve seen him eyefucking you quite a bit, Chaos.”

“I told you to quit callin me th— wait what?” He snickered.

“Yeah, you heard me. And I know you see it too, every time you see him staring at you’s you go crazy.”

“Tell me you’re lying.” You said in awe.

“Have I ever been one to deceive?”

“No.” You huffed, embarrassed.

“Yeah, well, if ya need me to talk to the guy, let me know. I’m sure I can get you two set up.” He starts heading back to his room, only looking back to wink at you.

You stayed up all night, wondering if you were really that obvious.

‘This is stupid,’ you thought to yourself. Why were you staying up thinking about a boy like you were a middle schooler? Frankly, no one could waterboard this information out of you. You could feel the tips of your ears warming. You tossed and turned, the bed creaking with every shift in movement.

The next morning, you walked into the mess hall to be greeted by Ghost and Soap. The burly man, once again, catching eye contact with you. You looked away swiftly, a string of profanities escaping your mouth under your breath.

“Soap,” you greeted.

“Mornin’ Chaos. Sleep well?”

“Quit calling me that,” you grunted. You stepped between him and Ghost to start the coffee maker.

“Morning Ghost.” You said, praying to the lords that your nervousness couldn’t be heard in your voice.

He nodded in response. You smiled slightly at him, not bothering to see if he would smile back.

“Laswell wants us to all go on a run together.” Soap leaned against the counter. Both you and Ghost look at him, puzzled.

“I’m just as confused as the two of you’s.” He chuckles. You glared at him, knowing that Laswell did not put the three of you up for a “run.”

“Apparently, we’re just s’posed to scout around, look for anything that seems..uh..fishy.” Johnny elaborated.

“Alright. When?” Ghost asked gruffly. You startled a bit, it was as if you hadn't heard his voice in ages.

“Tonight.” You sighed. You were really hoping to get a night to focus on yourself.

“It won’t be that bad, Chaos. Just a little trip, ya know? You’ll be just fine.” He said in an attempt to console you.

“A drive around? That’s it, right?” Ghost asked, completely ignoring your presence. How could he go from staring into your soul to not even acknowledging your existence?

“Sounds like it.” Soap responded to him.

“I’ll be there.” Ghost said—as if he hadn’t been “there” for every mission ever. You gave him a quick glance, only to see him looking right back at you.

Finally, you stepped out from the middle of them.

“Where ya goin’?” Soap called to you.

“Gonna go enjoy my alone time while I still have it!” You said snarkily. You could hear him chuckle to Ghost as you walked off.

When you got to your room, you shut the door swiftly and sat on the bed. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ is what you thought to yourself. How could Soap do this to you? It wasn’t like Ghost actually took any interest in you— couldn’t Soap see that? He looked like he absolutely hated your guts.

A couple of hours later,, you got ready to go.

“We’ll be taking the Jeep. It’ll just be through Los Vaqueros. Nothin’ too dangerous,” Soap explained. “Oh yeah- I’ll be driving.”

You sighed. He knew you didn’t like when he drove— he was reckless.

“Okay, well I’m taking the passenger. That means Ghost’ll have to sit in the back.” You sighed.

“Alright. Let's go.” Ghost said as he was leaving the base.

The sun was setting, so you knew the three of you would be going around looking for shit that didn’t exist. Soaps smart enough to scout during the day.

“We’re gonna be meetin’ up with Alejandro Vargas.” You sighed to yourself.

“Oh come on. He’s not that bad’o company, is he?”

“Never said that,” you retorted.

“Stop your bickerin’ and let’s get a move on, yeah? Quicker we get it done the quicker we can come back.” Ghost groaned.

With that, the three of you hopped into the Jeep, Soap getting into the driver’s side, you in the passenger’s side, and Ghost in the back. You made little to no effort to make small talk, seeing as Alejandro would be the one to take that job as soon as he got into the vehicle.

After driving for a while, Soap slowed down to a brightly lit building. You could hear faint voices along with cheerful music. You looked at the man skeptically, and he responded to your expression with a warm smile.

You then turned to Ghost, who was making the same expression towards Soap—except he looked more annoyed than suspicious. The two of you looked at each other, and you swore his eyes softened at your sight. It must’ve been your eyes tricking you, right? There’s no way someone like Ghost could look at someone like you the way he just did.

“Y/N?” Soap asked you, wrecking your train of thought.

“Yeah?” You snapped back into reality.

“C’mon mate.” He motioned you to get out of the car, as he and Ghost were already out.

“Yeah, sorry.” You responded. You hurried out of the vehicle and went to stand by him.

“Uh..what is this?” You asked him.

“What’s it look like? A party.”

“A party?” You turned to him.

“Yeah! Figured my best buds could use some time to unwind— just for the night, at least.” He grinned.

“This is stupid.” Ghost grumbled under his breath.

“Ah, you two’ll love it. Now let’s go! Can’t keep Alejandro waitin’ now, can we?”

“But I thought he was supposed to be showing us around?” You asked.

“Ah ah,” Johnny said. “I said we’d be meetin’ up with him.” He then rushed the two of you into the building.

When the door opened, you saw all sorts of people. They were all laughing and having fun— you tried to hide your relieved smile. Alejandro noticed you as you walked in, and he dashed over to the three of you.

“Hey, amigos! Glad you could make it,” he greeted Soap with a handshake, doing the same with Ghost.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Soap said.

Alejandro chuckled. “So I take it these two didn’t know what they were getting into, yeah? Based on this one’s face” he gestured towards you.

“I don’t make it that obvious, do I?” You gave him a friendly smile.

“Yeah, well, I would’ve said the same for Ghost over here if he didn’t have that mask on— como siempre.”

“Gotta stay anonymous.” Soap joked, and you could see Ghost roll his eyes in annoyance from the corner of your eye.

“We have drinks,” Alejandro remarked. “I can tell you three have been dying to get loose, yeah?”

“Definitely.” You said, relaxing a bit.

“Alright then, Rudy will show you guys what we have.”

Soap walked over to Rudy and tapped him on the shoulder, making him turn around.

“MacTavish!” He said, sounding a little tipsy. “And Ghost too!”

“How ya been, Rudy?” The Scottish man laughed.

“Never been better! Are you guys gonna get something to drink?”

He begins to make small talk with Rudy. Ghost slips past between the two of you and grabs a red solo cup, filling it with tequila. He then walks past you again and rounds a corner. You too grab a cup, except you only fill half of the cup.

You follow the direction Ghost went, finding him in the only dark part of the building. His back was leaned up against the wall and his mask was flipped up, revealing the tip of his nose and his scruffy chin. You debate going up to him, not wanting to step into his comfort zone by seeing this tip of his face. Finally, you decide to anyway.

“Ghost,” You greet him. He looks over at you and swiftly pulls his mask down. “Oh..sorry. I didn’t even notice your mask was—“

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off. You nod in understanding.

“What’d you think about this?” You ask him, leaning up against the wall in front of him.

“I dunno.” He says quietly.

“Mm,” you hum in agreement. Slowly, you see his hand moving up to bring his mask up again. He sips his drink. You sat in silence for a while.

“Didn’t take you for a drinker.” He comments quietly.

“Usually I don’t, but I think I need this.” You explained. He snorts at your reply.

“Speaking of which,” you started. He looks up at you curiously. “That’s a lot of alcohol. You sure you’ll be able to stomach that?”

“Please. I’m not a pussy. I can drink tequila as much as I want.” He scoffed.

“Damn, okay.” You said, surprised he answered you like that.

You drank in more semi-awkward, semi-comfortable silence. Suddenly, he got up off the wall and started walking away.

“Hey, where ya going?” You asked. You contemplated going after him, but you began to get dizzy.

“Getting another drink. I’ll be back.” He said, stumbling away. You huffed.

He came back not long after with another cup full of alcohol. Instead of standing across from you, he stood beside you. You could feel his body warmth from how close he was standing. He took a drink. Then another, then another. You finished your first cup and decided that you definitely didn’t want another. You already felt like shit.

He looked at you, holding eye contact directly— but he didn’t speak. You weren’t sure what to do.

He looked like he was about to lose his balance, so you grabbed his arm, making him slightly flinch.

“We should sit down, you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“‘M fiine.” He said, slurring his words slightly. You sat him down on the cold tile floor, and surprisingly, he didn’t hesitate. You sat together quietly, drowning out the laughter and conversations happening in the background. Ghost held eye contact with you once more, and you couldn’t help but giggle at him.”

“What’s so funny, huh?” He questioned.

“Nothing, it’s just— I told you that you wouldn’t be able to stomach all that tequila. Hell, I could barely drink mine.” He stared into your eyes, looking as if he was lost in them.

“Ghost?” You tried to get his attention.

“Hav—“ he belched. “Have I ever told you howw.. pretty your eyes…are?”

“Come again?” You asked, flustered.

“Your eyes. They look nice.”

“Ghost, you’re drunk.” You laughed nervously. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach going absolutely batshit crazy.

“Nononono-.” He stopped you. “I’ve always thhought that.” He said quietly. You sat in silence, not knowing how to react, but you were hoping he couldn’t tell you were dying on the inside.

“I..” you started, but then stopped yourself. Ghost looked at you with puppy dog eyes through his mask. Even if he was drunk, you could tell he meant every word. He leaned into you, and you could feel his hot breath against your face. His breath smelled of alcohol and mint, stinging your nose in the best way possible.

Then, he kissed you.

“Ghost…” you sighed.

“Simon.” He said— almost demanded.

“Simon. You’re really drunk right now. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Please, Y/N.” He pleaded. You were in utter shock. This was not the Simon Riley you knew. The Simon Riley you knew was cold, closed off, quiet. This one was… a breath of fresh air, in all honesty. He was soft, affectionate, loving.

He leaned in once more, giving you a gentle kiss. You were far too scared to reciprocate it. Too worried that he didn’t mean any of this.

“Y/N, I’m in love with you.” He sighs. Your eyes widen and your cheeks burn up.

“I…” you huffed nervously. “I think I like you too, Simon. But I think we need to talk about this when you’re not drunk.”

You can see his soft lips morph into a frown. He thinks you don’t believe him, but quite frankly, it’s hard to do that when you’ve only ever seen the reserved version of him.

“Let’s go back to the base, okay? You can get some rest and we’ll talk in the morning.” You smile softly at him. He nods, his lips slightly parted. You scoot over to him and pull his mask back over his face. Then you sit up and pull him up with all your might.

“Stay here, okay? I’m going to find Soap.” He nods again.

You round the corner back into the bright room, and see Soap immediately. He’s cheering loudly, surrounded by the partygoers and obviously extremely drunk. You yell his name and he jogs over to you.

“We need to go back, we’ve been here for too long.”

“Oh come on, mate. Already?” He complains.

“Johnny, don’t make this any harder, please.” He looks away, and then back at you, as if he’s thinking about what to do.

“Don’t even think of saying no. You’re too drunk to drive alone and so is Ghost. Let’s go.” You said forcefully. He groaned and went back to tell the others it was time for him to go.

You loaded the boys into the car and sat in the driver’s seat. This time, Ghost was in the passenger side and Soap was in the back. The whole ride back you could see him gazing at you in your peripheral vision.

When you got back, you led them to their rooms. Soap was first, and then Ghost.

When you brought Ghost to his room, he took his gear off and laid on the bed immediately. You were about to leave when you heard him whisper your name. You turned back to him.

“Don’t go.” He said, almost inaudibly.

“Gh— Simon, I can’t stay here all night.”

“Please..just lay with me.” He begged.

You thought for a moment, and then walked over to him. You sat on the edge of his bed and looked at him. The room was lit by the moonlight. He sighed contentedly, and then reached his hand out. You slid closer to him, when suddenly he grabbed your hand and pulled you on top of him.

“Simon-“ you yelped quietly. He hushed you and rubbed your back, you could feel him relax against your touch, so you relaxed against his too. Soon enough you felt his rhythmic breath entering and exiting his calmed body. He was asleep.

You sat up, careful not to disturb him. You stood over him for a second, thinking to yourself. Then, you leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Goodnight Simon. I love you.” you sighed, giving him one more kiss.

You really hoped he meant what he said tonight.