#BUT in my defense THAT SHIT DROPPED TODAY

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Did you post your sign you made?? I scrolled your page but didn’t see it anywhere 🙈👀 (sorry if you did post it and I’m just dumb and didn’t scroll back far enough or something lol)

Oh my gosh hi. No I did not let me add a photo now to this ask. I just talked to andy ( @puck-luck) and Sim (@stayg-0ld) because I very much was unsure if I was going to make one and then last night I said fuck it.

[illithiddies]

Hm. Having thoughts

[batboyblog]

I'm seeing a worrying amount of idiots on tumblr dot com push that "Kamala hates trans women" and I am losing my mind at how they are pushing it, constantly, saying she is a proven transmisogynist, despite it being a complete lie and her actively working behind the scenes to help trans women in prison. Is there like, sources that could help debunk this shit because I'm at my wits end as these people scream and cry and vomit trying to get biden to drop out but then are like "eghhhh still don't wanna vote for a transphobic cop..." when she's NEITHER-

Isn't the internet wonderful? first rule NEVER examine your priors! ALWAYS! hang onto whatever the first hot take you had on a subject to THE DEATH!

"Kamala is Transphobic!" over here in reality

past that trans and LGBT rights groups have been quick to endorse her like

Advocates for Trans Equality

Human Rights Campaign

just today 1,100 LGBT celebrities, lawmakers and leaders endorsed her

“The intersection on the issue of reproductive care and trans care, and the ability of families to be able to have care for their children and their families, is really, again, an intersection around attacks that are on an identity,” -Vice-President Harris, 2023

any ways the root of the idea she's transphobic comes from one case in 2015. Two inmates in the California State Prison system sued to get GRS, which as inmates would have been covered by the Prison system. It's worth noting here, both women got what they wanted, one was paroled and got the surgery covered by California Medicare while the other serving a life sentence was ultimately covered by the prison system.

Two things are important to bear in mind here, 1. Part of the job of California Attorneys General is to defend the state when it is sued, thats the job, 2. It seems early on in the case Harris was not personally aware of it, about 1,000 lawyers work in the Cali AG's office and so the AG cannot be personally aware of every case, and check this quote from the Lambda Legal lawyer handling the case:

“The California AG’s office shifted its handling of these cases significantly after now-Sen. Harris took over,” Renn said. “Initially there was language in briefing for the state that glaringly misunderstood the medical necessity of transition-related medical care and was patently offensive. But then, there was a dramatic change, which seems to have gone along with important policy shifts.”

Link

in 2019 Harris talked about the case and working after it was settled to change the policy of the California State Prison system

"When that case came up, I had clients, and one of them was the California Department of Corrections. It was their policy. When I learned about what they were doing, behind the scenes, I got them to change the policy," Harris said.

"I commit to you that always in these systems there are going to be these things that these agencies do. And I will commit myself, as I always have, to dealing with it," Harris said.

Any ways Harris can consistently spoken out for and supported Trans people, banned the hateful Trans panic defense when she was AG, in the Senate supported the Equality Act, during her 2020 campaign for President she drew attention to the hate crimes against black trans women while holding herself accountable for the 2015 case. As Vice-President she drew fire voicing support for Dylan Mulvaney during the hellish Bud Light backlash. Her Husband Doug was tapped to host the first ever White House Trans Day of Remembrance

basically you're looking at a great ally who clearly supports trans rights, who was involved in a case, which involved two people who got the surgeries they were looking for paid for by the State of California, close to 10 years ago now, there's evidence that both she moved the case in a better direction when she took over it and also that she changed the polices of the state to before more gender affirming.

[yeonzzzn]

You getting on alpha Jungwon nerves, making him trigger his rut and bend you over every surface of your house

broooooo😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I can imagine just being a complete brat and annoying the absolute shit outta won to his breaking point 😵‍💫

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

push my buttons: yang jungwon

pairing: jungwon x afab!reader word count: 2.2k

Acting like a brat to your boyfriend to purposely annoy him wasn’t anything new to your relationship. 

Pushing his buttons was in your nature and your favorite pastime. Seeing the way he would scrunch his nose and furrow his brows at you got you going every single time, only furthering your need to piss him off to see that annoyed look turn into a stern one. Jaw locked and fists clenching at his sides as he eyes you with a look of warning. You knew what your punishments would be if you kept pushing him anymore, but your brat behavior would always continue until his hands were on your body and you were bent over whatever surface was near you at that moment as he pounded into your cunt, “Going to fuck that pretty little brat behavior outta ya baby girl.” 

And tonight wasn’t any different than normal. Except for the fact Jungwon already came home pissed off to all hell, yelling into his phone on call with one of his best friends about the bullshit that happened at work earlier. 

It was the perfect time to press his buttons. You were feeling needy all day and wanted to get railed as soon as he got home and with the fact Jungwon was already mad, it would make your job easier. 

Jungwon stood in the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors closed, aggressively opening the fridge to grab a water bottle and then kicking it closed, chuckling over whatever it was his friend said over the phone before sitting down at the table and opening the bottle, tossing the cap into the trash can. 

You pressed your body against the wall by the table, folding your hands behind you as you stared down at him, waiting for your moment to strike. 

Jungwon took a few sips of the water, glancing up to finally notice you against the wall, his face brows furrowing and shaking his head and muting himself on the call, “I see those gears turning YN, don’t you fucking dare.” 

You held your hands up in defense, trying to plead your innocence. But Jungwon wasn’t stupid, he’s been dating you for years. He knows your games and how you play them. He loves you dearly, but today WASN’T a day to fuck with him. 

Did you care? Absolutely not. You did respect his warning for the time being while he was on the call, but once he removed the phone from his ear and ended the call you slipped into the chair beside him, pulling it as close as you could to him, getting all in his personal space. 

Jungwon ignored you at first, dropping his head into his hands and rolling his eyes, clenching his jaw to keep from snapping. 

You poked his cheek, pulled at his ear, tugged on his shirt, and even blew on his face yet got no reaction. Meaning you just had to try harder. 

You repeated the same actions, except now teasing him with words, “Awe, poor Wonnie, had a shitty day at work? That fucking sucks, just get over it.”

Jungwon clenched his jaw tighter, “I love her I love her I love her I love her,” he kept repeating in his head, using it as a reminder that you were just being bratty like normal. He just needed to ignore it until you gave up. 

“Just stop being a baby, Won. Grow up.” 

Well, now he couldn’t ignore it. 

He whipped his head up so fast, yelling, “Can you just shut the fuck up, YN? Jesus Christ I am NOT in the fucking mood to deal with you right now,” he gave you one last warning look, staring you down. 

But now you were pissed. Jungwon has never yelled at you like that before, yes he’s yelled when you’ve pushed his buttons too far before fucking your brains out, but it was never like this. 

You matched his glare, deciding it wasn’t worth it right now, that you would just come back and try again later after whatever pissed in his lunch earlier that got him so mad was gone. 

You stood, snapping out a “What the fuck ever Jungwon.” 

And now Jungwon is done. 

Right when your back was turned to him, he jumped from the chair, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you back, slamming your back to his chest before whipping you around and bending you over the kitchen table. The water bottle was now tipped over, the liquid spilling on the table and dripping down to the floor. 

You released a gasped moan, feeling his hard length against your ass, him pressing his crotch hard onto you. 

“Jungwon?” he chuckled, his voice dropping an octave, “What happened to Won? Or Wonnie or even babe?” 

Hearing you call him by his full name sent him over the edge. You never call him Jungwon. And hearing that name fall from your lips was his last straw with you. 

But you didn’t care, you were finally getting what you wanted. You slipped your lip between your teeth, backing your ass even harder onto his cock, rocking your hips slowly. 

Jungwon held your hips tightly, forcing you to stop moving, “Ahh now that you’re getting what you want after being such a fucking brat you think I’ll just give it to you?” 

You nodded, trying to move again, but he gripped you tighter, not letting you move. 

“You’ll get this dick when I say you can,” he growls, looping his fingers into your shorts and dropping them down to your ankles, “Understand?” 

You nod again, the cool air of the apartment tingling your throbbing heat from the pool of your slick that soaked your panties, sending chills up your back. 

Jungwon squeezed your ass cheeks, pulling them apart and hissing at how your panties pressed against your pussy, your panties being so wet he could see your fuck hole perfectly clear through the white fabric. 

“Does pissing me off turn you on, baby?” he slowly slides your panties down, gently tracing his nails against your skin, watching the goosebumps rise on your skin as he drops your panties with your shorts, “So fucking horny just from pressing my nerves.” 

You gasp when you feel his cold fingers cup your folds, his index and ring fingers slowly spreading your lips, the pad of his middle finger slowly rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Wonnie, please,” you begged, your cunt clenching around nothing, rolling your hips forward in a chance of getting his fingers to move right where you needed them the most, but he held his grip firm. 

“Oh, I am back to being Wonnie?” he cooed, sliding his middle finger down to your hole, tracing the outline of it, teasing you more, “Think it’s kinda too late to be obedient, ain’t it?” 

Your body tensed as his finger continued to tease you, shivering spreading across your body and knees buckling. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you begged again, tears threatening to form. 

“Awe,” he cooed again, “Fixing to cry? Stop being a baby, grow up,” he threw your words back at you, and oh god did it turn you on more, you cunt getting more wet, your slick now sliding down his hand. 

“Fuckkkk,” Jungwon groaned, seeing how your juices pooled into his palm, his free hand unbuttoning his pants, pushing his boxers down with his pants, his hard, red, and angry cock being set free. 

Using his other fingers to scoop your wet from his palm and sent it over to his cock, sliding his hand from his tip and down the shaft, “So fucking wet for me I can use your wet to cover my cock without even so much sliding into you.” 

You backed your ass into him again, once again begging, “Wonnie, do something please.” 

He smirked, sliding his middle finger into your soaking cunt. You moaned out with a smile on your face, finally feeling part of what you were craving. 

Jungwon fingered your pussy in the same motion of him fucking into his fist, small moans and gasping leaving both your lips. Your moans grow louder when he slips another finger inside you, pumping them in and out faster. 

“That's it, baby,” he gasps, “Being a good girl now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, you still don’t deserve this cock though.” 

You whimpered, the craving for his cock inside you growing more and more, “Please Wonnie, need you inside. I’ll be good, I promise.” 

He chuckled, pushing his fingers in faster, “No you won’t.” 

You smirked, lifting your head to look at him, clenching your cunt around his fingers at his fucked out face. His pupils are blown out, his mouth gaped open as his hand pumps himself and his eyes stare back at you. 

You bit your lip, keeping that eye contact with him as you now rocked your hips in sync with his fingers. 

The corners of his mouth curled, “Looking at me like that still won’t get you what you want, you’ll get this cock when I say so.” 

But you plead with him anyways, going back to being a brat, “Oh, come on Wonnie,” you bat your eyes at him, “You know you want to fuck this tight, wet cunt. Want to feel me wrapped around you.” 

He snarled at you, fingers now curling inside you, hitting at all the right spots, “Talking like that won’t get this dick inside you faster, princess.” 

You dropped your head back to the table, unable to keep it lifted as the knot in your stomach tightened, nearing the edge of your orgasm, you clenched tighter to his fingers. 

Jungwon quickly slid his fingers out, denying you the pleasure of the feeling of orgasm. Jungwon was also getting closer to his climax. And if he was going to cum it was going to be in that sopping wet cunt of yours. 

Before you could protest the missing of his fingers, his tip pushed into you, shutting you up real quick. Jungwon loved how fucking wet you were to allow him to slide in with such ease, his hips connecting to the fat of your ass, completely bottomed out. 

Your knees buckled as he slowly pulled out and then quickly pushed back in, fucking you hard against the table. He leaned over, laying on top of you, stretching his arms out above your head, pressing his palms hard against the wood to use as leverage to fuck into you harder, to help push him further into you, wanting to break any barrier that stopped him from actually prodding into your cervix. 

“Fuck, Wonnie,” you moaned, “F-feels so good.” 

“Yeah?” he bites the shell of your ear hard, a yelp gasping your mouth that sends your cunt clenching around him.

He released your ear, one hand coming to your head and turning it to face him more, his lips attaching to your mouth. Tongue pushing past your lips and down your throat, moaning into your mouth and you moaning into his. 

He finally pulled away to get a gasp of air, a string of spit connecting between your tongues before it broke and slapped onto each other's chins. 

You clenched tighter around him at the feeling of his dick twitching, his thrust now becoming sloppy, but never wavering. 

“Fuck, gonna cum soon,” he hisses, his hands now snaking underneath you, hands cupping your clothed tits as he lifts up, bringing you with him, spreading your legs further apart with his knees and fucking into you faster again, wanting to feel you cum around him as he releases inside you. 

With your orgasm fast approaching, you dropped your jaw, letting out loud wet moans.

“Yeah, baby, keep those moans loud, let the neighbors hear how much of a fucking slut you are for me, for my cock.” 

“Wonnieee,”

“Keep screaming my name, baby,” 

You let out another moan, your climax hitting its peak, your body going limp against your boyfriend as he fucked you through the high. 

He squeezed your tits tightly as he reached his own high, his hot white cum painting the walls of your cunt until it was leaking from your hole and slipping down your leg. 

Jungwon kissed your neck, his hot breath sending chills down your spine. 

He pulled out of you, turning you around, picking you up by your thighs, and dropping you onto the table, his fingers gripping your chin and pulling your face closer to his. 

“Want to keep acting like a fucking brat? Want to keep pissing me off?” he whispered in a look of warning, his face clearly showing he was still very mad. 

You smirked at him, “You’re still being a baby over whatever happened at work, dontcha think it’s actually time to get over it?” 

Jungwon clicked his tongue, smiling back at you. He only fucked out half of the anger he felt, still plenty more to rage out. 

He slid his fingers to the hem of your shirt, sliding it off your body and biting his lip at your now naked body as he took his shirt off and dropped it to the floor next to the rest of your clothes. 

He pushed you down aggressively against the table, his cock more red and angry than before, “Guess you still haven’t fucking learned to not fuck with me when I’m pissed.” 

You and him both knew you’d never learn.

[evie-sturns]

𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 - 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘚𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘰

summary: you've been pissing chris off all day, accidentally knocking his stuff over, purposely teasing him in public, to the point where he starts to get seriously mad at you to the point where he has to put you in your place.

warnings: smut, rough!chris, use of safe word, argument, swearing.

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I didn't know that what i was doing was affecting chris this much, I mean, today has just been like any other. I hung out with my boyfriend of 2 months, chris, the whole day with his brothers and friends.

he seem's to be extra on edge today, ever since i broke one of his cologne bottles.

(flashback)

hey chris, im just gonna head downstairs- SMASH

"oh fuck i'm so sorry i'll clean that up now-" i said, getting on my hands and knees and collecting the shards of black glass. "y/n just go downstairs, get out of my room please." chris spoke, glaring down at me. "i'm so sorry chris, i can buy you anothe-" i was cut off by him picking me up and placing me outside of his bedroom.

(present)

me, chris, nathan, nick and matt are sitting on the sturniolos couch as the sun sets through the window to our right, a dim light fills the living room as matt and nick have an argument, god knows what its about.

im cudding up to chris's side, my leg resting over his thigh as he scrolls on his phone aimlessly. ive been sitting here for about an hour, i think chris is still pissed about the cologne bottle incident. i hate to admit it, but chris when hes mad is the hottest version of him.

i move my leg from his thigh up to his lap, using my leg to rub him very softly through his sweatpants. he grabs my leg, pushing it off him "stop that." he whispers, shaking his head at me. "stop what?" i ask, a guilty smile tugging at the corners of my lips as i move my leg back to its original position, applying more pressure on his crotch.

right before he's about to grab my leg again nathan starts - "whos up for top golf!" he says, looking around the room with a smile on his face. "nate its late." matt speaks, leaning back against the couch.

"so you're boring?" nate tuts.

"fine, only if the others go though." nick says, standing up off the couch. "chris, y/n?" he says, looking at us.

im about to agree but chris answers for me "were staying here." he says, his tone angry.

i look at chris with a confused look, but hes back to scrolling on his phone. "well me, matt and nate are going, we'll be a few hours." nick says, grabbing his coat and phone.

matt and nathan follow nick out the door, giving me and chris a small wave before slamming the front door shut.

chris stands up, leaving me on the couch, he faces me "what the fuck is wrong with you!" he yells. "what?" i say defensively, moving back against the couch, my eyes widening from the sudden raise of his voice.

"what!!??" he mocks, before starting

"this whole day you've been on my last nerve, and I'm sick of it. You've ruined half the shit in my room then you start touching up on my dick in front of my brothers?"

my jaw is slack, in pure shock as he flames me, i can't help my attitude start to build up, i scoff "not my fault you've been sensitive and pissy all day, sorry that im clumsy today?" i bite back, rolling my eyes.

chris stares at me "you have no respect for any of my shit, youve gone and shattered my $450 cologne that nick got me and you expect me to be happy? pathetic." he yells.

a few tears drop from my eyes, i don't know why. his words aren't hurting me but he knows i can't deal with people yelling at me. my attitude keeps up though "if you're gonna be so sensitive go cry in your room christopher." i fold my arms.

chris storms out of the living room, slamming the door to the bathroom shut.

i wipe my eyes before standing up, running upstairs into chris's room. its already been decided that im staying the night here by nick, so i decide to get into my pyjamas.

i pull my shirt off over my head, revealing my white lacy bra which i especially wore for chris, i was expecting a different evening with us.

suddenly i hear the bedroom door open behind me, chris storms in before walking up to me, i swing my body around to look at him. he grabs me by my throat, i gasp loudly as he grabs me, throwing me down on the mattress.

i sink my teeth into my bottom lip as i look up at him, before pulling him down into an angry kiss. he pulls away, ripping off his shirt. "built up a bit of an attitude today haven't you?" he mumbles, yanking my shorts and panties off in one motion.

he reaches a hand under me onto my back, flipping me over onto my stomach.

he grabs my ankles, forcing me onto all fours. i whine, desperatly. "so needy aren't you." he says, yanking down his sweatpants. i look over my shoulder at him.

"hand behind your back." he demands, putting his hand out. i put my hands behind my back, chris grabs both of my wrists with one hand. holding them, forcing me to arch.

"chirs.." i groan, squirming slightly, his hand collides with my clit. "fuck!" i yelp, chris shushes me "why do you think you deserve my dick after giving me such an attitude today hm?"

he lines himself up with me, pulling my wrists closer to him, my chest and head are fully off the bed as my back arches more then i knew it ever could.

without warning her slams into me, i let out a loud cry from the sudden stretch. "dont. make. a noise." he says, slamming into me at a brutal pace. i let out pathetic whimpers as i'm held in place by him.

he reaches his spare hand round, shoving two fingers in my mouth.

chris has never been like this in bed, im in total shock as he fucks the attitude out of me.

without warning i clench around him, releasing the knot in my stomach. his thrusts don't slow, i wouldn't be wrong if i said they quickened.

im so sensitive, my vision blurry as he takes what he needs from me.

we've had a safe word established for a while, we made it while we were in a stupid mood, so it has a stupid name. 'dinosaur' , but ive never even thought about using it until now.

"chris.. chris chris." i groan, tears streaming down my face from the intensity. "fuck- d-dinosaur" i cry out, chris stops thrusting instantly, checking to see if he heard right.

"dinosaur.." i whisper.

chris pulls out instantly, he gently releases the painful grip on my wrists, as he collapses down next to me, sitting on the bed, pulling me onto his lap in a cradling me.

"hey hey.. don't cry sweetheart." he whispers into my hair, grabbing his shirt and pulling it onto me. "are you alright baby? too much?" he coos, rubbing my arms. "please speak to me gorgeous."

i nod into his chest, "im fine, just sensitive.." i stammer.

"oh okay i'm so sorry" he says, pure guilt in his voice as he stands up, holding me like a bride.

suddenly i let out a small laugh, he looks down, confusion painted across his face.

"wait.. whats funny?" he questions

"what were we thinking when we came up with that safeword." i laugh into his chest.

——-----------●∘◦❀◦∘●●∘◦❀◦∘●--------------———

this might be my last fic for a few days cause school is starting up tomorrow.

[solarmorrigan]

I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

-

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

[starringthesturniolos]

baby it's cold outside - chris sturniolo

summary: you are forced to share the air mattress with your long time enemy, chris, on a camping trip.

"Since you two wanted to argue the whole way up, you guys get to share a tent together. Yay!!", Matt says while jumping up and down in fake excitement.

On the way to the camp site, Chris and I did argue a lot. But in my defense, the idiot kept pushing my buttons! He kept turning my least favorite songs on and blasting them at full volume so I couldn't sleep. When we stopped at 7/11 he grabbed the last of my favorite drink and gulped it down in front of me. When we finally arrived, he dumped all my heavy bags on the ground and laughed at me struggling to pick them up. It was like he was asking to get yelled at, or like he wanted me to be mad at him.

"No, Matt please!" I grab onto his arm desperately. "I'm sorry but please don't make me stay with him!"

Matt rolls his eyes at me and folds his arms over his chest. "Would you rather sleep outside then?" I scoff and shoot a glare towards Chris who isn't standing too far behind Matt. "Yeah, sounds about right."

"Sleep outside then. That's fine by me, princess." Chris sneers responding to my comment while turning his back on me to set up his tent. I take three deep breathes and close my eyes. I am not going to let this idiot keep getting under my skin. I stomp away from Matt and Chris over to the log Nick was sitting on and he laughs at me.

"Well hello, Mrs. Grumpy"

"Oh shut up" you sigh.

I plop my bag down on the floor, my chest heaving from hauling ass. I had to carry my heavy bags all the way from where Chris dropped them earlier today to the tent. He was laying all comfortable in his set up of blankets and the sight alone pissed me off.

"Thought you were sleeping outside tonight. Is it because you're scared of the animals, princess?" he sneers out the nickname like I'm more of an ogre than a princess. Why is he always so fucking annoying.

"Leave me alone, and I leave you alone. I'm going to bed. I'm tired and I'm not here for the bullshit." I say as I reach into my bag for my sleeping bag. My sleeping bag. Holy shit.

"Shit, shit, shit" you dump out your bag and see no sleeping bag in sight. Its cold out and the thought of sleeping without any covering made a shiver crawl down your spine.

"What is it now??" Chris sits up and turns the flashlight on in an exasperated manner. You sigh deeply. "It's nothing, go to bed Chris." He shrugs and lies down again, turning his back to me. I didn't need to give him another reason to tease me tonight. I flop on the ground on the opposite side of the tent from him and curl up into a ball. I can feel myself shivering but I try to ignore it.

Thinking back on when I first met the triplets in 3rd grade, I remember how cute I thought Chris was. I met Nick and Matt on the bus ride home from school one day when Chris was sick. The next day, me, Matt, and Nick were playing tag at recess when Chris walked out with a doctors note in hand. He walked over to his brothers and my heart skipped a beat. Immediately, Nick and Matt went to introduce me. "Chris! This is-" before Nick could even finish his sentence, Chris was already talking. "Well, isn't she a looker" he chuckles sarcastically while looking down at me, clearly judging me. I also looked down at my two loose braids and hand me down clothes and sigh. "Am I really that ugly" I thought to myself. I knew I probably shouldn't have let a boy that I hardly knew opinion get to me, but the tears came nonetheless." I wanted him to like me" you thought to yourself, wallowing in self pity. I was cut out of my trance when Chris started to laugh sporadically. "What? What is it?" I mutter looking at Chris and then too Matt and Nick who look embarrassed by their brothers rude antics. "Nothing, nothing. Its just... You're even uglier when you cry!" he starts laughing even harder. I felt myself start to shake from embarrassment and anger. Who did he think he was. "Your mean!" I stomped my foot which only made him laugh harder. I couldn't take anymore harassment in one day, and turned on my heel and ran away with Nick and Matt right on my heels.

After all these years he still hasn't changed. "Y/N, HELLO!!" Chris yells bringing me back to the present. "What?".

"Where the fuck is your sleeping bag?" he asks. I sit up from where I was laying to face him. He was now laying down with his body faced in my direction.

"Oh my God, clearly not here or I'd be using it, dumbass." I roll my eyes and go to lay back down.

"Lose the attitude and come stay in the bed with me" he mutters before I can return to my balled up position. My mouth flys open. Since when did he care if I was cold or not. "Wait, what?" I say in shock.

"Get the fuck up and come here. Nick and Matt will punch me in the throat if you catch a cold." he says nonchalantly as if it's normal for people that hate each other to share a bed. I roll my eyes again. I'm not sharing a bed with an asshole, even if it causes me to freeze to death. "No thanks" I scoff, preparing to lay back down again.

He sighs exasperated and moves from his comfortable position in his blankets. He stands up and starts walking towards me. I feel my throat start to tense up. "What are you doing?" fear creeping into my tone. Once he reaches me, he grips underneath my thighs with one hand and tries to support my back with the other. Desperately, I try to wiggle out of his grasp but too no avail. I am in his arms in no time. It takes everything in me to not sink into his warm chest. I didn't realize how cold I was until this exact moment. Suddenly I start to panic again when he starts to walk because I have no idea where he's taking me. Then I think of the worst. "Are you seriously gonna throw me out the tent. Come on Chris, do you really hate me that much??"

He stops moving entirely and he looks down at me. God the way he looks looking down at me is enough to be in any girls dream. Too bad he's just a big dickhead. "You weren't listening to me. So now I'm forcing you to stay with me on the air mattress." he pauses before continuing, almost like he doesn't want to say what he's going to say next. He sighs and continues on, "You were shivering really bad while you were in La La land. I didn't want you too freeze anymore." He had a glimmer of concern in eyes when he said it and that's all it takes for me to believe him. I hate the way my cheeks warm up from the honest confession. It meant he cared, and it shouldn't matter to me but it does.

He starts to walk again, seeing I had no response and plops me down on the mattress. He flops down right beside me, and even though it's warmer with the blankets, it's not enough. Another shiver racks through me. "Y/n??" Chris doesn't even try to hide the concern in his voice. "Do you need me closer? Will that help?" he looks at me waiting for my call. The thought of Chris getting close to me is enough to make my head spin. And as much as I wish being in Chris' arms would repeal me, it doesn't. Instead I feel my heart skip a beat like they did all those years ago. Get it together Y/n.

"Yes" I whisper. Chris doesn't need to be told twice and he pulls me impossibly close to his body. He grabs my thigh and puts it around his waist and then pulls my head into his chest. All I can sense is him. Instead of it annoying me, I lean into his scent and his warmth. In my heart I know that even if it was the hottest night of all time, I'd still enjoy being wrapped in him like this. And I hated myself for it. I melt into his arms and feel myself getting lulled to sleep. Just as I'm about to fall asleep I feel his lips graze my hair. " I could never hate you, angel, not in a million years. I'm sorry". And with those words, I fall asleep in his arms.

Send in request, I could always use some more inspo

Love, Mya

[mari-the-bimbo]

Bus stops on dodgy roads

Sukuna x reader

A/N: Hey my lovelies! I know i been gone a while but he’s just a random thought I made into a fanfic! Enjoy! <33

Going to University in a rough area is definitely not for the weak.

Classes finishing at 7 in the evening, studying the notes in the library until 11 because your dorm doesn’t have a desk, meaning you’re waiting at the bus stop in the dead of the night with the local drug dealers, police sirens blaring in the back, but you try to tune it out with ‘like a tattoo by Sade’ blasting your your earphones.

But you just happen to be god’s strongest soldier.

Well.. at least you think you are.

Strangely enough, you do not feel threatened by the drug dealers who wait for the same bus, the silent agreement to mind your own business is mutual.

But more strangely, you notice the drug dealers aren’t here today, so you sit alone at the bus stop, the dry air hitting your face.

“Here all alone sweetheart?” Says a croaky voice in the silence, you turn your gaze to the ugly looking man who reeks of blood and alcohol. You don’t recognise him so you pretend you didn’t hear him, silently praying it’s not your blood splattered next.

You flitch as he snatches your earphones out your ear and throws it to the ground, shit, why did it have to be you?

“Don’t pretend you can’t hear me you stupid bitch, how much for a fuck before I make you do it for free”

You subtly reach for your pocket knife and you answer him defensively “I’m not a whore, go ask somebody else”, calling police would be useless, by the time they arrive you’ll already be roadkill.

You watch him seeth at your attitude as you gulp, realising a bit too late that was the wrong move.

You watch a black Bugatti pass, a car you knew probably belonged to an even dodgier person but you were desperate. You throw a rock at the car and scream “HELPPP!!”.

The man only gets angrier as he punches you for drawing attention, you fall to the ground with curses from your mouth but luckily the sleek car halts, before reversing slowly until it’s in front of you.

“g-get up you bitch” the man hurriedly orders, reaching out to pull you up but your new found confidence allows you to kick him before you hurriedly stand up yourself.

Before you can react again, you hear a deep voice boom through the abandoned road’ “Oi”

The black tinted windows of the Bugatti slides down to reveal a tatted man, a bit older than you but scarily handsome nonetheless. The creep’s eyes widens before speaking “Boss! I- I was just going to deal with this bitch becau-“

“Who asked?”

You stare quietly, taking in the interaction between the creep and his boss in the car.

“Did I not order you to report back to me once you were done with the job?” The boss asked. You didn’t even want to guess what the ‘job’ was.

“Sir this bitch got in my way so-“

“Shut up” the boss cut him off before his red eyes connected with yours, a shiver travels down your spine at the contact.

“Leave us alone” he says, you take a step backwards thinking he’s talking to you but realise you’re wrong when the creep walks away shakily.

Your own legs start to shake slightly in realisation of who this man could be.

“Hey pretty girl”

You gulp “Hi s-sir”

A chuckle erupts from the man at your immediate obedience compared to how animalistic you were with the other. “Why you calling me sir, you work for me too?” He asks. You struggle to find words so you simply shake your head.

He keeps eye contact with you as he puts out his cigarette that was hanging from his mouth. “Call me Sukuna”

The leg almost threatened to give in from the shake as he confirms your fears, he was the city’s drug lord Sukuna.

“Thanks Sukuna”

“No worries dear, why don’t you be a good girl and let me drop you home” he asks, you know it’s a command rather than an offer.

“T-thanks but my bus will be here any minute” you reply with a shaky smile.

His gaze is unnerving as he answers “your bus won’t be coming”

Your confused silence allows him to answer the question you were thinking.

He points in the direction that the creepy man left, “You see, I ordered him to kill some rats on that bus, the bus will be terminated in 3..2…”

“What” you whisper in disbelief.

“..1”

You look up at the digital bus stop timer.

“Zero”

‘Service currently unavailable. We apologise for this inconvenience’ the digital screen reads.

You stare back at him in disbelief. He was too good, devilishly good, and you were now putty in his tatted hands. All the questions left on the tip of your tongue disappears, Sukuna only offers an illegally beautiful smile to you.

“Well?” He says, “I really don’t like offering repeating myself dear”

Without missing a beat, you run to the passenger side door and enter the car.

To hell with morals and ethics, when you live in the ghetto, survival is your main priority.

You sit in the luxury leather seats with cowardly stature. Sukuna starts his engine and drives off.

“You know it’s breaks my heart to see a pretty girl like you wait in the cold like that dear” he teases gruffly, a new cigarette hanging from his lips. “Not your first time waiting there is it?”

“No” you reply but then you pause, wait how does he know that?

“How do you-“

“I know my city better than anyone, every corner and.. bus stop” he adds to lighten the mood, you can’t help the small giggle that escaped you, it’s hard not to when your saviour happens to be an big, attractive, clearly untouchable man who smells like oud and leather.

“Think I’m funny doll?” He says with a smile, red eyes still on the road.

“Only a little-” you reply before immediately closing your mouth in fear, you fix your posture when you suddenly remember this isn’t some friend of yours but rather the most powerful man in the city that could easily have your head.

He chuckles, “easy, easy doll. No need to humble me like that”

“Sorry” you say with a meek smile.

He looks at you and back on the road. There was no denying Sukuna found you adorable, you were amusing to him, and what kissable looking lips you had.

“You can joke around with me doll, consider me a friend hm?” He says as his hands move to the back of your neck, stroking it ever so gently, goosebumps quickly rise making the tatted man laugh as you look at him embarrassed.

He parks in the uni dorm car park. Before slowly turning his head towards you, you feel comfortable enough to look him face to face now, you offer him a smile “thank you dropping me off Sukuna… and also saving me back there.. I know he’s one of your man but still-“

Your sentence dies at the back of your throat when his rough hand strokes your cheek, “did it hurt?” He says, he’s serious now. “A bit..” you answer.

Your breath hitches as he leans forwards and presses his mouth to your ear “I’ll take care of him when I get back, you will never see him again, okay?” He says and you nod in understanding of what that entails.

“Such a smart girl” he coos gruffly as he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear.

“Thank you again Sukuna”

Another smile comes to his handsome face as he tilts his head “and how exactly do you wish to thank me dear?”

You gulp as you stare at the handsome devil, seducing you so easily, you feel embarrassed when he notices your thighs squeezed together, while Sukuna makes a mental note of the dirty things he’s going to do with those plush thighs next time.

He licks his lips, and you unintentionally imitate him. He shakes his head and bites his bottom teeth, he can’t hold back anymore, oh girl.. what have you started?

Suddenly his wet lips press against your own, moulding with the shapes of yours, his sloppy tongue makes sure you can taste the tobacco as you moan at the feeling, he chuckles into your mouth before pulling away.

You pull away with a gasp, he smiles, looking nowhere near as breathless as you, just admiring your beautiful face. He thumb plays with your bottom lip

“Well shit.. You’ve started something I gotta finish doll”

[puckinghischier]

Surprise…?

Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary: luke gets hurt during a game

notes: y’all i think i struggle writing luke for some reason. i just never seem to really like what i write when i write for him. wtf am i doing wrong 😩

request: can you do a post on luke Hughes getting badly injured the game at umich and both older brothers are there and get worried over him and major fluff

i strayed away a bit from the michigan aspect because i don’t feel comfy writing about college hockey players, so i changed it up a bit. i hope you still enjoy!! 🫶🏼

[3.3k]

~

There weren’t many times you regretted moving to Jersey, but right now was one of them. The constant traffic within the city wasn’t something that usually got under your skin, but today it was the absolute bane of your existence. Of course, you were in a hurry. A big one. You had approximately thirty minutes until puck drop, and you needed to get there before that puck hit that ice. No exceptions. You hadn’t told Luke what you were doing, so he probably already expected you to be there, wondering why you’re not in your usual seat for warm-ups.

As if he could hear your thoughts, your phone buzzed with a message from Luke, not being able to read what it said while trying to weave in and out of traffic.

“Quinn, can you see what Luke just sent. And then tell him I’m on my way. I don’t want him worrying that I’m not showing tonight,” you ask the Hughes brother currently in your passenger seat.

Quinn grabbed your phone from the cupholder, listening to you rattle off your passcode so he can open Luke’s message.

“He asked where you were, and if you were already there. Wanted to know why you weren’t in your seat for warm ups,” Quinn confirms your thoughts, looking to you for an answer.

“Tell him I’m just running late. Be there before puck drop. And tell him I love him and good luck.”

You hear the sound of Quinn typing your reply as you increase your speed, cursing the people who want to drive below the speed limit in the fast lane. This is what you get for trying to be a good girlfriend and surprise your boyfriend and his brother. You get stuck on the road with New Jersey’s worst drivers.

In your defense, you were supposed to already be safely at the arena in your seats, but Quinn’s airline had different plans. His flight being delayed by three hours gave you barely enough time to run and grab him from the airport and make it back to the Rock before the hockey game started. The only thing saving your ass right now is the fact that if you can just get there, you can go through the player entrance and avoid the crowds trying to get in at the last minute.

“If you don’t calm down and drive like a sane person, we’re never going to get there. We’ll be squashed on the side of the road,” Quinn scolds you, grasping what your dad always called the ‘oh shit’ handles.

“If I can just get around these idiots in front of me we’ll be fine. We’re almost at our exit, then I just have to pull around back and we’re in,” you tell him, once again pressing the gas pedal a little harder.

Quinn stays silent the rest of the drive, closing his eyes once you start speeding around the other cars on the freeway, finally getting to the right exit and rushing to the underground parking that the players always park in. You pull your car into the spot next to Jack’s, barely even turning the car off before you’re jumping out and sprinting to the entrance.

“C’mon, Quinn! I know you can move faster than that! We only have a few minutes! Move it!” You yell over your shoulder, Quinn barely having gotten out of the car.

“Remind me to never let you drive ever again,” is all he says as he catches up to you, looking a little greener than before.

The two of you make it inside the arena with no issues, sprinting to your seats just as the national anthem finishes, both teams sending their starting lines out on the ice.

You had managed to snag Quinn a seat next to you, asking the team’s manager for a favor to help surprise their rookie defenseman. With no hesitation, he handed you a ticket and a locker room pass for Quinn, knowing how homesick Luke had been lately. You had thanked him a million times, asking him to keep it a secret from both Jack and Luke, not wanting either one of them to know until the day of. He gave you his word, and was also the reason you were given access to the player parking for the night, not wanting Quinn to be ambushed by fans going through the regular entrance.

You felt your heart rate start to slow once you were both situated in your seats, glad that you had made it in time. Neither Jack nor Luke had looked over and noticed you yet. You wondered if they were going to clock Quinn before they took their stances on the ice.

Your question was soon answered as Jack looked back and saw you, waving and turning to get Luke’s attention before he did a double take, noticing the brunette sitting to you left. Quinn gave a small wave, flashing his younger brother a smile as you watched Jack’s eyes widen, mouth curving into beaming smile. Luke had turned back, looking in your direction, a relieved smile on his face once he noticed you were finally in your spot, eyes too focused on your figure to notice Quinn’s next to you. It wasn’t until he looked over at Jack and followed his gaze that he finally noticed his oldest brother in the crowd, a Devil’s hat on his head.

Luke’s eyes flicked over to you once again, mouthing ‘what the fuck?’ to you, your only response a shrug of the shoulders and a smirk on your face.

The two brothers quickly focused their attention to the officials on the ice, lowered into their stances, waiting for the puck to drop onto the ice.

“You know they’re going to compete now, right?” Quinn says as he elbows you to get your attention.

“Why would they compete? They’re literally playing for the same team. It doesn’t matter who scores as long as the team wins,” you respond, confused at Quinn’s words.

“It matters now. They do the same thing when mom or dad come to watch them. They want the praise. They want to be able to out perform the other so they can brag about it to me after the game,” Quinn clarifies.

“I don’t know about that. Jack’s been good about trying to set Luke up for success all year, I think they’ll surprise you.”

Quinn gives you a skeptical look, not believing your words, but lets it go otherwise; his attention quickly stolen by the sound of the puck hitting the ice, followed by clashing sticks and skates scraping against the frozen floor.

Much to your surprise, Quinn proved to be right. All throughout the first period, the two brothers fought to get the puck, sometimes even fighting against one another. You noticed the odd looks from their teammates, Nico even skating over to Jack during a tv timeout to ask him what was up, not having seen the pair act like this before. You kept throwing glares at Luke, trying to tell him to knock it off, that they’re playing for the same team, but he wouldn’t look at you for more than a few seconds at a time.

As the second period started, the competition between Jack and Luke had nearly ceased to exist. You assumed they got their asses chewed in the locker room during the intermission, noting how their coach seemed to watch them like a hawk. Once the brothers started actually playing together instead of against one another, the Devil’s were scoring goals left and right, putting up four goals before the end of the second period, one Luke’s and two being Jack’s.

With only three minutes left in the second period, Luke was attempting to get possession of the puck from behind the net, fighting two of the opposing players for the black piece of rubber. He lost control of the puck, and in a moment of frustration, pushed one of the enemy players in the back, wanting out of the sandwich they had put him in. The player he pushed fell forward onto the ice, drawing a penalty on Luke. The official had blown the whistle, stopping gameplay, when Luke looked over at him, frustrated at the call.

What Luke didn’t see was the player who had gotten the puck come skating up behind him at full speed, pushing Luke so hard his skates came out from under him, causing him to land on the ice on his back. He was angled just enough, though, that his body slid at high speed straight into the bottom of the wall a few feet away, head bouncing off the boards along the ice.

You were on your feet immediately, hands flying to the glass in front of you, begging for him to get up. Quinn jumped to his feet next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, whether to comfort you or himself, you don’t know. Jack leaves his spot on the bench to skate over to his brother, falling to his knees on the ice, hovering above Luke.

Luke hadn’t moved yet. Not a foot twitch, a roll over in pain, or a thumbs up to let anyone know he’s okay. He’s laying lifeless on the ice, trainers calling his name, careful not to touch his head or neck. Your hand flies to cover your mouth, a sob making its way out of you when you noticed the stretcher being put on stand-by near the tunnel. Everything feels like it’s in slow motion, time stopped as Luke continues to lay, unmoving. Quinn tries to move you back from the glass, averting your attention from the scene in front of you, but your eyes are glued to Luke’s body.

You thought you imagined the twitch of his foot, thinking it was where the medics were tapping his leg, trying to coax him awake. When you finally see his body try to roll over, you let out the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding. Your relief was short-lived, however, when you hear the scream that makes its way out of Luke’s throat. You’re not sure which one hurt worse, him lying there not moving or the scream of agony that’s currently echoing through the arena.

Your knees start to give out, eyes blurring from the tears falling down your face. Quinn catches you as you slide down the glass, holding your sobbing figure in a crouched position.

“Quinn, gotta go. Gotta go, locker rooms,” you manage to say between sobs, trying to stand and make your way out of the stands.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go. Let’s get you out of here.”

The fans watch as Quinn guides you out of your seats and up the stairs. Most of them familiar with you, you and Luke not being super private with your relationship. A lot of them are still shouting obscenities at the player who went after Luke, demanding he be suspended. Some of them give you sad smiles as you pass, hoping your rookie is okay.

You finally reach the entrance to the training room, knowing this is where they’ll have taken him before they decide if he needs a hospital or not. You can hear them in there talking to him, unsure if you should enter yet or wait on someone to come out and get you. You stand at the doors, staring into space, when Quinn decides to speak up.

“He’s gonna be fine, Y/N. Probably a gnarly bruise, and likely a concussion, but it could’ve been worse. I know its scary, but I promise, he’s going to be okay. Might not even miss more than a game or two.”

All you can do is nod at the words, unable to do much else at the moment. You try to give a small smile, but you think it comes across as more of a grimace. You turn your head when you hear the door to the training room opens, revealing one of the team trainers.

“Oh, good, you’re already down here. He’s asking for you. Wants you to know he’s awake and okay. Nothing’s broken, just banged up and a mild concussion. Probably going to have him follow up with a doctor tomorrow, but for now he just needs rest. You can go ahead and go in. He won’t be playing the rest of the night,” the man in front of you finishes, stepping aside so you can walk through the open door.

You turn back to look at Quinn, seeing if he’s going to come with you.

“I’ll just give you two a minute first. Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” he tells you, wanting a minute to process his own emotions before seeing his baby brother.

You nod and turn to walk into the training room, following the trainer down a short hallway before turning the corner into a room with three different treatment tables, Luke’s long body taking up the farthest one. His head is laying back on a pillow, a large ice pack taped to his right shoulder. His gear is laying in a pile on the floor next to him, completely bare from the waist up. As you get closer, you can see the already purple skin forming in the exposed parts of his shoulder and upper arm. You gasp quietly at the bruised skin, causing Luke’s head to snap up at the sound.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he rasps out, voice raw from his screams earlier.

You stop on the side of the bed opposite to his injury, unable to say anything yet. Tears still streaming down your face, looking him over for any other signs of injury.

“Hey, no need to cry, angel. I’m okay, see. Just a little bruise. Nothing to be worried about. You should see the other guy,” he tries to joke, being told he left a dent in the wall where he hit.

You glare at him through your tears, unhappy with his weak attempt at joke.

“Okay, yeah, maybe not the time to joke just yet,” he brings the hand on his good arm up to rub the back of his neck, looking away from your tear-stained face.

“You were unconscious, Luke…you weren’t moving,” is all you managed, staring at his injured shoulder.

“I know, baby, I know. But I’m awake now, see?” he gestures towards his body with his good arm. “I’m just fine. Yapping ability unaffected,” he once again tries to bring a smile to your face, this time it almost works.

“God, Luke, if you could’ve heard the scream you let out,” you shudder at the memory. “It was the worst sound I’ve ever heard in my life. I thought my heart was going to rip in two right there on the spot. I don’t ever want to hear the sound again,” you finally look at his face, noting the small cut on his forehead, you assume from his helmet.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry you had to witness all of it. I can’t imagine how it must’ve looked,” his tone apologetic. “If the roles were reversed, I don’t think I would have been able to keep myself from trying to climb over the glass to get to you. But I promise, sweetheart, I’m fine. Told me as long as my head’s fine I should only have to miss two or three games to let the bruise run its course,” he grabs your hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“It was just so scary, Luke,” you sniffle, closing your eyes for a brief moment. You finally start to calm down now that his hand is in yours.

“I know. But now you get to play doctor and take care of me for a few days. Kiss all my boo boo’s better,” Luke wiggles his eyebrows at you, finally earning that laugh he’s been trying to get out of you since you walked in.

“That was probably one of the ickiest things you’ve ever said to me,” you laugh with Luke, fake gagging for dramatic effect.

Luke opens his mouth to say something else, but the the doors to the training room open, cutting him off. The familiar sound of skates against the floor making their way towards the two of you. Jack turns the corner, a frantic look in his eyes until he lands on Luke, awake and sitting up.

“I’m going to kill you for scaring me like that,” Jack points a finger, glaring at his younger brother. “I mean, why the fuck did you hit him, Luke! What were you thinking? You know how these guys are, they’re begging for any excuse to fight! They don’t care if you’re a 20 something rookie, they’re gonna hit back, dumbass!” Jack yells at Luke, throwing his arms around in frustration.

Luke winces at the volume of Jack’s voice, his ears sensitive to loud noises right now. Before you can get the words out to tell Jack to be quieter, Quinn enters the room and does it for you.

“Jack, be quiet for fuck’s sake. He has a concussion; you yelling at him is only going to make it worse. Yell at him later.”

“Well, it was stupid, Q. What he did was stupid,” Jack says in a normal tone of voice, still angry.  

“Don’t act like you’ve never done anything stupid on the ice before. Just because you never get caught when you hit people doesn’t mean you don’t do it,” Quinn walks over to stand beside Jack at the end of the table.

“You good, Moose? Looked pretty nasty out there from where I was sitting. Scared us, man,” Quinn asks Luke, tapping him on the foot. You note the redness of Quinn’s eyes, knowing how much he cares for both of his brothers. The whole situation shook him up, too, you were just too worried about Luke to notice at the time.

“Yeah, m’alright. Head hurts. Shoulder feels like it’s been run over by the ‘boni, but other than that I got off pretty clean. Nothing’s broken. Have to miss two games at least, more if my head ain’t right,” Luke answers Quinn, moving his hand so he can thread his fingers through yours.

“Your head’s never been right, Moose,” Jack says, causing Luke to roll his eyes.

Quinn leans over to bump his shoulder into Jack’s, shaking his head, unimpressed with his joke.

“Wait,” Luke starts, causing everyone to look up at him. “Are we just not going to address the fact that Quinn randomly showed up to the game tonight?”

“Yeah, how did you get here. Shouldn’t you be in Vancouver right now?” Jack adds, looking over at his older brother suspiciously.

Quinn looks over to you, causing the other two Hughes to shift their gaze your way.

“Surprise?” you say as a question, not knowing what to do with all the eyes in the room on you.

“You did this?” You look over at Luke, nearly eye level with him, even though he’s laying on the table beside you.

“Well, I know you’ve been struggling with adjusting to life here lately, and you were feeling pretty homesick, so I figured it would be nice for you to have both of your brothers in Jersey for a night or two,” you shrug your shoulders, not seeing the big deal with your actions.

“Tried to get your parents here, too, but they couldn’t leave work right now. They sent their love and apologies, though. Promised me they’d be at a game as soon as they could,” you added, wishing you could’ve had all the Hughes here tonight.

“I….I don’t know what to say,” Luke looks at you, so much affection in his eyes it makes you squirm.

“Well, a thank you would be a nice start,” you joke.

“Thank you. I love you. So much. If I could lean over to kiss you right now I would,” Luke brings your hand up to his mouth, placing a kiss on the back of your hand clasped in his.

“Please, for the love of god, don’t make me witness anything else painful tonight,” Jack interrupts the moment, earning a slap to the back of the head from Quinn.

“Don’t you have a game to go finish, jackass?”

“Oh, shit, yeah,” Jack jumps, forgetting about the last period that’s about to start. “See you at home, Moose, Q. You, too, Y/N. Assume you’re staying over to help take care of the patient, yeah?” He nods his head towards the injured one in the room.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Be safe, Jack. Good luck,” you wave as he turns to leave.

“I’ll go pull the car around, be back in a few to help you get this ole’ goon out of here,” Quinn announces before leaving you and Luke alone once more.

“So, you’re really going to stay over? Play nurse for me?” Luke asks, looking at you with puppy dog eyes, batting his eyelashes.

“Of course I’m staying over. I can’t trust Jack to make sure you’re not up and around doing something stupid when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“So, if you’re going to play nurse, does this mean we can stop on the way home and get you one of those sexy nurse outfits?” Luke asks, eyes hopeful.

“Maybe they should’ve just left you out there unconscious on the ice, you were less annoying that way,” you fire back, smiling at the laugh Luke let out, thanking your lucky stars your boy is okay.

[gogobootz1]

At War

Luke Castellan x Reader [fem!daughter of Apollo]

Summary: There's nothing like some friendly competition, but when planning rival parties, you and Luke are a little less than friendly.

Word count: 2k

Every year, there came a time for the retreats- a chance for children of the gods to bond and have some special fun. One big retreat seemed pointless, so camp faculty allowed two. The two retreats accidentally split the boys and girls, and naturally, they turned into an (unofficial) competition. As one of the oldest and most experienced campers- you’d been volunteering to champion a retreat for years. Traditionally, you’ve hosted a slumber party equipped with PJs, dancing, games, movies, braid trains, nail polish, and basically anything anyone could want. You also, of course, have the best food. Each year, it’s been a hit, and it’s only gotten better with time. 

The only problem is that you have tough competition. The day after the retreats, you always hear about what happened at the other one. Paintball, camping, fishing, mad romps through the wood, scary stories- barbecue. Everyone loved it. And every year, you’ve had to quietly conceal your anger and jealousy. It pains you to admit that Luke sure can throw a party (maybe even better than you can). But this year, you are more determined than ever to outdo him. 

The two of you have long been in competition, and things have only escalated. As hilarious as Mr. D found both your antics last year, Chiron was extremely unhappy about the fact the two of you had exceeded the budget by miles. He’d told you both to reign it in this year or no more retreats. When he felt that didn’t sufficiently move you, he threatened to let other people plan them. You both caved and vowed to stick to the budget this year. 

You’re always a little frantic the day of, and today is no different. To your chagrin, Luke is cool as a cucumber. It pisses you off to no end. 

“Nervous?” A smug voice voice asks from behind your back. You drop the spoon you were using to push mashed potatoes around your plate. 

You turn slowly on the bench, “Why should I be?"

“Usually, you’re pulling out your hair before the retreats,” he says skeptically, “perfectionism taking its toll.”

“Yeah? Well, my perfectionism makes my parties perfect,” you flaunt. The few sisters that can stand to be around you when you’re stressed roll their eyes. It’s clear to them this is escalating. 

“What about when Susie vomited in your bouncy house last year?” He taunts, and you glare at him. That girl should not have been jumping after four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and two Redbulls- it was hardly your fault. 

“How about when Aidan got a concussion after falling off the mechanical bull?” You snap back. 

You don’t notice Luke’s shadow until he pipes in, “Are these people okay?” 

“They signed waivers!” You say at the same time, and the new Poseidon kid takes a defensive step back. You send Luke a glare when you realize you spoke in sync. He huffs before smirking at you. 

“Good luck with your sleepover,” he mocks, “You’re gonna need it.” Before you can reply, he marches away, protégée in tow. 

“Eat shit!” You call out after him. 

“That was weak, girl,” one of your sisters says.  

“Shut up, I know,” you shake your head at her, “now come help me set up.” You drag her up by her elbow to make your sacrifices, then get to work. 

Five hours later, the main hall looks great. Your disco ball is glimmering, the mini photo booth is equipped with feather boas and pink cowboy hats, the food is all laid out, and the stage you bribed some Hephaestus kids to build looks great. 

“Perfect,” you whisper, pleased at your surroundings. 

“Fucking finally!” Your sister throws her hands up and walks away. You’ve very likely driven most of your half-siblings insane today. 

“Thanks for your help!” You call after her, and as she goes, you spot some prying eyes through the window. Percy, you think his name is, looks afraid now that you’ve caught him peering in through the window. In a few swift moves, you leave the room and block his exit from the patio. 

“Can I help you?” You ask suspiciously. 

“Just admiring your excellent disco theme,” he says, putting an ultra-sweet smile on his face. As charming as the boy is, you take your retreat very seriously and feel a deep-seated urge to protect it from potential sabotage. 

“Mhmmm,” you nod, “and you wouldn’t happen to be reporting back to anyone about what you’ve seen?” 

“Whaaaaaat?” Percy asks, awkwardly chuckling. 

Your shoulders drop, of course, Luke would stoop to employing spies. You dig into your pocket and pull out a ten-dollar bill, “I’ll give you this if you act as a double agent.” 

He eyes your money suspiciously, “Do you really think I can be bought?” 

You roll your eyes and pull out another bill, “How’s twenty?” 

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he grabs both bills from your hand and shakes it. Percy happily walks past you, shoving his new earnings into his pocket. 

You grin, “Make sure he hears all about how awesome my party is!”

“I’m on it, boss,” he calls over his shoulder. After a short walk, he’s back to the boathouse lounge where Luke has been waiting for his report. 

“Well?” The older boy asks him, jumping up from his spot on the couch. 

Percy shakes his head solemnly, “Bad news, boss.” 

“What?!” He asks, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me she went over budget. She didn't get another mariachi band, did she?” Percy shakes his head and files this new information away. With what he’s been hearing about the last few retreats, he’s almost sad to have missed them. 

“No, but it does look super cool,” he nods, and it really wasn’t a lie- he saw a chocolate fountain on that snack table. 

“Damn,” Luke’s face twitches in annoyance. 

“But your party will be great too, I’m sure,” he smiles, nodding reassuringly. 

“Of course, it will,” he says defensively, “make sure you check back in over there from time to time. I want to know how it’s progressing.” 

“Sure,” Percy nods, but his concern at the competitiveness underlying this event grows. He wonders just how bad this will get tonight. But check back in he does, and he won’t deny he enjoys himself at the sleepover. Every time he visits, you give him a new sparkly mocktail, and the Aphrodite girls give him a new feather boa. At one point, he’s wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and eating some cake. He was very impressed when M&Ms fell out of the middle as you cut it. Apparently, it’s also one of your newest sisters’ birthdays- he’s heard whisperings of some big special present for her yet to come. 

Each time Percy returns to the other retreat, he can see Luke get a little more tense. The fact that he’s exaggerating doesn’t help either. When he tells the older boy that you have an ice sculpture spitting Dr. Pepper, he thinks he sees steam pour from Luke’s ears. It’s not like people aren’t enjoying his party, but Percy can that Luke wants to one-up you and feels like he’s falling short. 

“And I’ve heard she has a special surprise in store for Sophie since it’s her birthday. Apparently, she’s the newest addition to their cabin, so she wants to do something special,” Percy nods at him, eating a taco he had brought back from your party. Luke cuts him off by grabbing the taco from his hand just as he’s about to take another bite. “Hey!” He protests when Luke puts it right in the trash. 

“When is this surprise?” He asks the twelve-year-old. 

“The Aphrodite girls told me I should be back in like twenty minutes so I wouldn’t miss it,” Percy tells him. 

“And when was that?” 

“Like twenty minutes ago,” he shrugs, and Luke just stares at him. “Ohhhhh,” he says when he realizes how long it’s been. 

“Come on,” Luke shakes his head and starts out the door, Percy in tow. They can hear the surprise before they see it, an ABBA song blasting out of the building. Only, they don’t realize who's performing it until they walk in. Along with two of your musically-inclined Apollo sisters, you’re dressed in bell bottoms and sleeves. And you look like you’re having the time of your life- until you spot them, that is. 

“Look, look, look, look,” you pull the microphone away to mutter to Tanya. Her shock is visible, but you both keep performing anyway. The crowd goes wild at the end, and Sophie runs up on stage to give you a big hug. You let Tanya take over host duties and make your way through the crowd to the party crasher. 

“That was,” Luke starts, but you are not keen to hear whatever he has to say about your outfit, or your performance, or your party. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” 

His expression instantly sours, “I wanted some Dr. Pepper from your ice sculpture, where is it?” 

“What are you talking about?” You’re highly confused until Percy gives you the cut-it-out motion from behind Luke’s back. “We put it back in the freezer,” you say, and Percy gives you the thumbs up. No matter what you think of him, Luke’s not an idiot. He turns around in time to spot Percy’s gestures. 

“Wait a second, are you two colluding?” He looks between the two of you in shock. 

“You were colluding with him first,” you shrug, crossing your arms. “You really earned that twenty dollars, by the way,” you compliment the kid, and he gives you a pleased nod. 

“Dude,” Luke turns toward Percy, betrayed. 

“She outbid you,” he shrugs. “Hey, what if you guys just went to each other’s parties?” 

You both eye the boy suspiciously, “Why would we do that?” You ask him, and Luke nods in agreement.

“Well, you’re both so desperate to know about the other’s party, so why don’t you just experience it for yourselves?” Percy asks, and when he feels you aren’t sufficiently moved by it, he tries again. “If you attend both parties, you can decide who wins.” 

“Good enough for me,” Luke wanders off into your party.

“Yeah, okay,” you head for the door. 

“Hopeless,” Percy mumbles, shaking his head. 

An hour later, you and Luke meet in the middle of your respective parties. You stare at each other for a minute before you admit in sync, “I had fun.” 

“We have to stop doing that,” you shake your head. 

“Agreed.” 

You’re both silent again for a minute. “The slip and slide was a good idea,” you say reluctantly, soap still in your hair, “low budget but lots of fun. Tubing was good too. And the campfire.” You had changed out of the disco attire and into shorts and a T-shirt over your swimsuit. 

“Did you try-“

“Chris can really grill,” you nod. After some hesitance, you finally choke out a confession, “I am very displeased to call you the winner.”

“No way,” he shakes his head. 

“What?”

“You totally won,” he shrugs, “the disco was killer.” You only now realize he changed into pajamas. 

“You actually embraced the sleepover?” 

He flicks some grass off your shoulder, “You gave my party a fair shot.” That’s true, and you nod, looking away for a second. “The chocolate fountain was a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And I was trying to tell you earlier, but your performance was really cool,” he admits. 

“Yeah?” A genuine grin grows on your face at this. Most everyone in the Apollo cabin loves music, but some of your half-siblings are more keen to perform than you. Hearing this, and from him especially, means a lot. 

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling now too. “You’re the winner here.” 

“Let’s call it a draw?” You offer, and he nods. 

“What if we just worked together and planned one party next year?” He asked, and you pretend to consider it for a moment. 

“That could be cool,” you nod, “imagine what we could do with the combined budget.” 

He grins and scrunches his nose, “How about we enjoy this year’s party until then?”

“We could do that,” you nod, “where to?”

He swiftly wraps an arm over your shoulder and starts guiding you back to your party, “Let’s boogie.” You laugh, and he thinks it’s a sound he could get used to. 

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

I've been awake for too long so idk if this is coherent but I had fun <3

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

DISTRACTION — CHAPTER 03

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n's guitar practicing is interrupted several times.

author's note slowly introducing more of the social media aus into these fics! you can view all of the characters’ twitter accounts here.

→ installment of this au read for context

The weather outside was beautiful. Kids were strewn out around camp, some were by the lake while others found shade in the armory or stables. You, however, were in your cabin all alone. You knew that this was one of the few times it would be empty, so you snuck away from archery to practice your other instrument– your guitar. 

You began strumming the first few notes to a song you had been working on. Quietly singing the lyrics to yourself, you were reminded of a time before camp.

It was back when you were still with him. You recall how your back leaned against his as he helped move your fingers to the correct strings, how he guided your hands to the right positions, he was always so patient with you. But that had all come crashing down when the monsters in your head became real, too real for him to deal with. 

Anyway, that was a long time ago now. You went back to strumming your guitar and tried to push the memory away, but you couldn’t. You hated that he still occupied your mind, no matter how hard you tried to move on. 

You thought that coming here would help, and it did for a while. Other boys became distractions and temporary fixes, but then there was Luke, who confused and terrified you.

When Annabeth and Clarisse brought him up at your sleepover the other night, you felt the need to hide. The bravest girl in camp, and you couldn’t face your own feelings. It made you feel weak, and you hated that.

Realizing that you got distracted once again, you resumed singing for a third time. 

It wasn’t long before you heard the sound of keys dropping followed by“shit.” You looked up from where you were sitting cross-legged in bed to see who it was.

“Hello?” you called out.

A bashful curly-haired boy peeked his head into your door. You frowned. 

“Hey Y/N, sorry for interrupting you,” Percy said, slowly. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be training right now?”

“Y-yes,” the boy stammered. “But Luke needed me to get something from Hermes cabin for him.”

“You do realize this is Ares, right?” 

“Right, I just-” 

“Just…?” You knew you were being a little rude to the boy, but it had been a while since you messed with the campers. You couldn’t have them thinking you went soft all of a sudden. 

“Sorry, I was just walking by and I heard someone singing and I figured it must be you, so I just stopped for a second to listen.”

“Okay, stalker.” 

“I wasn’t stalking, I swear!”

“Whatever, just get going before Luke gets mad at you too.” 

Not needing you to tell him twice, Percy rushed away. Sighing, you went back to your guitar for the umpteenth time. 

📥 INCOMING MESSAGE FROM: PERCY

You enjoyed about 30 more minutes of peace before you heard a soft knock on your door. Grumbling, you climbed out of bed, ready to scare the camper away. 

“I swear to god-” you started.

“Hey, hey, I come here in peace,” Luke put his hands up defensively. 

“Ironic because you’re actually disturbing my peace. What is it with everyone bothering me today?” 

“Look, I came here to apologize for Percy earlier.”

“You wasted your time because this could have been a text then,” you said. You were usually nicer to Luke than the rest of the campers, but you hadn’t been in a good mood recently, not since the sleepover and not since you started working on this song. 

He must have noticed your change in attitude toward him because he asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” you said quickly. “And even if it weren’t, I’m not going to bother you with my problems.” 

“You’re not a bother,” he responded sincerely. 

“Well, I’m glad you think that. But us Ares kids, we have to take care of ourselves. I’m used to it.” 

“Just because you’re used to something doesn’t mean it’s the way things should be.” 

“Oh, my bad, Castellan. I didn’t take you for a philosopher.” 

“Alright, whatever. I just came to apologize for Percy, I’ll leave you to your moping.” 

“Hey! I’m not moping!” you said, defensively. 

“It sure does look like it,” he said, scanning the room and landing on the mess of sheets on your bed and the snack bags you had discarded haphazardly on the floor. 

“I’ll have you know I’m actually working on a very special project, so. This is what the room of an artist looks like.” 

“Oh?” he chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mhm, I can show you.” 

“Alright, bet,” he found a spot next to you on your bed and watched as you set up your guitar. 

You strummed the first few verses of your song, hyper-aware of how close the boy next to you was right now. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, and closed your eyes as you slowly allowed yourself to lean into him, softly singing the lyrics. 

When you got to the chorus, you cleared your throat. “Uhm, here is where I’m getting stuck a bit, because everyone keeps barging in here.” 

“Is this the part where you ask me to leave then?”

You stared into his brown eyes. You wondered how anyone’s eyes could look so soft, could hold so much emotion. Did he look at everyone like this? 

“Y/N?” he said, after a moment.

Shit, how long were you staring at him for? And was your mouth open the entire time? 

“Sorry, I thought I saw something in your eye. Probably just a piece of dust,” you laughed nervously. “Uhm, yeah, I think I need another hour or something to finish this song, but I’ll see you at the campfire tonight, yeah?”

If Luke was disappointed, he didn’t look it. “Yeah, of course, I gotta head back to my counselor duties anyway.” 

He saluted you playfully as he turned around to leave, being sure to close the door after him.

[underdark-dreams]

It's finally here, all 7k words of it 👀 Thank you for everyone who read chapter 1, and waited so patiently!

[ch1]

Birds and Bees - Ch.2

Rolan isn't usually the type to accept help. In his defense, Tav is very persuasive—and he is very, very desperate.

Tags: Tailplay, Oral Sex, Biting, NSFW | Word Count: 7.7k [Read on AO3]

Rolan didn’t appear again for the rest of the day.

After their awkward exchange this morning, Tav felt she might be somewhat to blame. She tried to recall the bits of Tiefling etiquette she’d picked up from the Elturians; perhaps touching his tail had crossed some sort of line? Either way, the gesture seemed unthinkably forward to her now. 

Then again…Rolan was the one who’d coiled his tail across her desk like that, its tip nearly brushing her hand as she wrote. She’d never seen him do anything like it before. If she didn't know him so well, she’d have found the move almost flirtatious.

At shop’s close, Cal took charge of locking up the front. Tav caught sight of the large iron keyring he carried and realized that it must be Rolan’s. So his brother had checked in on him today, at least—that gave her a modicum of relief.

Lia pitched in to help wipe down all her equipment and carefully fill the many waiting bottles with her cooled elixir. Tav held her tongue from repeating any of the worries she’d made after Rolan during the day—but it seemed her silence was just as damning.

“Stop fussing,” Lia repeated firmly. “Rolan’s just overdue for a rest. I mean, you saw his face.”

“I did.” Rolan had never been the type to slow down or show weakness easily. To Tav, the fact that he’d willingly taken himself to bed worried her more than anything. “Just promise you won't let him turn down a healer if he needs one?”

“If it comes to that, which it won't,” Lia said down to her work. “I promise we’ll find someone, okay?”

Tav kept her tone teasing as she packed away the sealed bottles in their crate. “Hmm, yes…if only you already knew someone with some knowledge of healing.”

Lia let out a bark of laughter. “Trust me, you’re the last person Rolan wants to see right now.”

The sting of those words took Tav by surprise herself. Lia caught their edge too; she pulled up with a grimace, letting a few drops of antidote dribble onto the desk. “Shit, Tav, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It’s okay,” Tav replied, making a fuss of sealing up the filled crate. The thought made her feel rather less than okay, which she didn't want Lia to see. “I think—I don’t know. I feel like I did something rude today, anyway.”

“Oh?” Lia’s tone was light, but she allowed a conspicuous pause to stretch between them. Tav pushed through a twinge of embarrassment to turn to face her.

“Lia, what would you think if I touched your tail?”

Lia glanced up with an eyebrow cocked. “What, right now?”

“No, just—say I did by accident.”

Lia straightened to take a thoughtful inhale. “I mean…it depends on the context. You and I are friends, I wouldn’t think much of it. Unless you grabbed it up by my backside or something,” she added with a laugh. “It wouldn’t be a big deal. If I’m walking somewhere crowded, lots of people might brush against it unless I’m careful.”

Tav had moved around to reset the rest of her clean glassware as she listened, feeling marginally relieved by the explanation.

Then Lia paused her work again. “Are you saying you touched Rolan’s tail?

“You what now?”

With impeccable timing, Cal skidded to a stop at the edge of the conversation, a heavy lockbox under one arm.

Tav glanced between the two of them. “Yes?” The word came out as a question somehow; her mouth went dry as they stared at her. “Like you said, I didn't think it was a big deal. He laid it on my desk while I was working, so I just kind of—” She mimed a little picking-up motion with her hand.

The siblings exchanged a significant look with each other. 

“What?” Tav felt her face burning and knew the color must be noticeable to either of them. “How does it being Rolan’s tail make it different?”

Cal turned back to her with a frown. “What do you mean he laid it on your desk?”

“I don't know, damn—clearly I’m no expert!” She flailed her arms out a bit. “I just turned around and it was sitting there by my hand, all right?”

Another shared glance.

“That explains it,” Cal decided. It earned him a swift pinch on the arm from his sister. “Ow, hey—”

Tav looked between them again, trying to translate. “Explains what? Seriously, if I offended Rolan somehow, I want to kn—”

“You didn’t,” Lia cut in firmly. “This one here's just an idiot. It’s harder to control your tail when you're sick or tired, and Rolan’s been both, that’s all. I'm sure it was a mistake. And he shouldn't have minded you moving it,” she finished with a decisive nod.

With that, Lia snatched up the filled crate from her with one arm and grabbed her brother’s sleeve with the other. Cal stumbled slightly as she pulled him along, but he wisely held his tongue as they headed for the back stockroom. The hinges creaked shut behind them both.

Tav was left standing alone in the cavernous interior of Sorcerous Sundries, beside the desks that she and Rolan used to comfortably share—not sure if she should feel better or worse.

—

The next morning, Rolan was once again nowhere to be found.

He hadn’t even conjured his projection the way he usually did when occupied with research in the Tower. It was a shame; the shop was unusually busy by midday, and Cal and Lia worked without pause. When she could, Tav left her alchemy just to lend a hand with customers or make runs to the supply room.

She found herself worried to the point of irritation. Was Rolan really so stubborn that he wouldn’t take a potion? Or accept healing from someone he’d claimed was a trusted friend and colleague? She tried and failed not to be hurt by it.

Then again, Rolan had always been the type to shoulder his way through awful things alone while firmly turning down help—particularly from her. His apprenticeship, most recently. The memory made her radiantly angry on his behalf even now.

“Shit—” 

Tav jerked away from the flask and sucked on her freshly scalded thumb. She must have the ratios off again; this recipe wasn’t new to her, but the nuances had escaped her all morning. These sublimates shouldn’t get nearly so hot when mixed.

Might as well admit defeat and review the recipe before she wasted yet another bunch of black oleander. Surely there was a reference text somewhere in Rolan’s library?

Tav glanced around to the front of the shop. Cal was recording a sale at the front desk; Lia was chatting with a very large half-orc over near the conjurement runes. Things seemed well enough in hand. Tav damped the flame at her station and quietly took the stairs for the portal.

For lack of a better word: the library of Ramazith’s Tower was absolutely magical. 

Tav stood breathing in the quiet afternoon sunlight, taking an appreciative look up around her. The collection must be the best one this side of Candlekeep, with all sorts of books on spellcraft, Weave theory, alchemy, religion, the history of Toril—just to scratch the surface. She could think of no hands more deserving than the ones its ownership had fallen into.

Just as Lia mentioned the other day, Rolan had clearly been hard at work reorganizing the place. She ran her fingertips over the books’ spines as she walked around the perimeter of the main floor.

She imagined Rolan with his robe sleeves pushed to his elbows, enthusiastically at work in his book stacks, and bit back a grin. There was something so endearing about his passion for taming disorder. As she walked, she found her gaze drifting to the delicate staircase at the far end of the main floor. It spiraled upward invitingly. 

She’d never been to the upper floors of Ramazith’s Tower—nothing past the library. Certainly she hadn’t stepped foot in any of the private quarters of Rolan or his siblings. She wouldn’t even know which door led to whose.

But her mind wandered readily at the thought of Rolan’s bedroom. What it might look like…smell like. 

No doubt it was packed with shelves of books and scrolls, filled with the scent of fresh parchment and leather-bound volumes. That warm, bookish smell that seemed to be woven into his robes. The fresh hint of cedar from the way he kept his clothes meticulously cleaned and stored. And that other faint spice that she could never identify, but always picked up when he stood close to her.

The same scent that had filled her lungs with dizzy pleasure when he’d hovered close to her yesterday, chin brushing her shoulder and arm circled possessively around her waist— 

She bit her lip as heat pooled between her legs at the memory. She couldn't help it—how very fucking nice it had been to feel Rolan’s elegant hands on her, casually and effortlessly touching, as if he was accustomed to touching her much more often and much more intimately.

It would do no good to dwell on that moment. If anything, the uncharacteristic gesture was just proof of how out-of-sorts Rolan must be feeling. He was her friend, and by all accounts, he’d been too sick to leave his room for days. 

With a sudden burst of determination and a disregard for the consequences, she strode for the stairs.

Taking the curving ascent so rapidly left her dizzy. Tav planted her boots on the landing for a moment, holding onto the railing while she took in her surroundings.

This upper hall was also quietly sunlit, filled with fine carpeting and oak paneled walls; but the atmosphere was somehow less grand than the cavernous library below. More intimate. 

Two doors stood on both ends of the hall. Hazarding a guess, she stepped to the closest one on her left. Its heavy oak panels swung forward with the slightest touch.

Not a bedroom at all, but a bath—and a tremendously fine one at that. All the fixtures seemed to be wrought from polished gold. Underneath a towering stained glass window stood the deepest, widest clawfoot tub she’d ever seen.

As she gazed around, Tav caught sight of her reflection in a large glass above the sinks. Her hair was all frizzy flyaways from a day over her potion work. Indulging a bit of vanity, she paused to tame it with her fingers.

One of Rolan’s many endearing habits was his dedication to fastidiousness. Never a hair out of place, horns polished and shining, robes immaculately pressed—knowing him, with a bit of the Weave.

She must look like some sort of wild hedge witch by comparison. Tav had never minded life in the wilds as a wayward adventurer, even after the Elder Brain was felled to the Chionthar. It was part of what drew her to the career of a traveling alchemist. 

But there were moments…most of them in this Tower, with Rolan and his siblings. Sharing a meandering dinner at a real table with actual chairs. Sitting with Rolan out on the starlit balcony, discussing blood alchemy over a glass of wine as they watched the harbor.  

Tav forced her hands still and stared back at her reflection. 

“What do you want?” She muttered to herself. The Tav in the mirror had no answer. But in her mind, one softly bloomed.

Over the past months, her feelings had tumbled forward faster than she could keep up with them. Seeing Rolan, talking with him about anything and everything, working beside him in quiet moments—she found those were the moments she looked forward to most.

His offer to turn one of the Tower’s empty vaults into a greenhouse for her. Essentially giving her a permanent place in his home, if she wanted it. Was it stupid to hope that he wanted more, too?

As she stood frozen silent in the confines of her lavish surroundings, a muffled sound came from her right.

She hadn't noticed the second door past the bathtub; presumably connecting to one of the bedrooms. She realized it most likely led to Rolan’s.

She stepped toward the heavy oak paneling and raised a hand to knock. As she did, more muffled noises came from within. Tav hesitated, questioning whether she should—then leaned in to press one ear to the wood.

There were the sounds of labored breathing, as if from pain or exertion. She strained her ear harder. There was something almost…rhythmic in it.

And then—she could swear—she heard Rolan's voice groan her name aloud.

A shock of heat ran through her chest, prickling up her neck and diving between the cleft of her legs. The rapid, hot ache at her core made her gasp out in surprise, then clap a hand to her mouth lest he heard. She felt her cheeks burning with realization.

Whatever she had expected to find by wandering up here…this had never been on the list. All she saw in her mind’s eye was Rolan, sweating and panting and desperate. And that thought filled her with overwhelming want in response.

Tav pushed herself back from the door with a jolt. She turned and ran, not knowing or caring whether the ring of her footsteps on tile carried past the door. Her pulse pounded against her ears as she rushed out of the room and back for the staircase. 

Even before Tav’s foot hit the third stair, she knew she was headed for the Elfsong. And a very stiff fucking drink.

—

Day passed to night and back to day again in a feverish jumble. Like a vessel adrift in a vast ocean, Rolan was passed along wave after wave of searing impulse.

Had his ruts always been this overwhelming, and he’d just forgotten? Or was there something different about the drives this time around? 

Even the little dignities were stripped away, one by one. He began by conjuring mage hands at first, but his concentration faltered too many times at the cusp. He finally just settled for his own grip. Desperate sounds rose in his chest each time he neared his next finish, the likes of which he’d never utter voluntarily.

And he quickly gave up on clothes altogether. He lay naked and spread-eagle on his sheets and tried to sleep when he could, before his demanding cock inevitably twitched back to life again. The fever turned his dreams shockingly lewd whenever he did manage to drift off.

By sunset, another strong wave of need was pulsing through his core, demanding his attention. Rolan lay back against his pillows and groaned open-mouthed as he stroked himself.

Even slick with oil, the friction between his hand and the raw, overstimulated ridges of his cock bordered on painful. His finish danced out of reach to the back of his mind.

With an impatient growl, he flipped over to his knees and snatched up a feather pillow, folding it into a sleeve for his cock. A crude solution—but with his first few thrusts, the cool softness of the silk caused a moan of relief to rise in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut as he fucked his own pillow in a desperate chase for relief.

And behind his eyelids, there she was again.

Tav appeared there so easily now. He’d tried to fight it at first—ashamed to be using her like this, without her knowledge or consent—but he found that nothing satisfied his urges so well as when he pictured her on his cock.

So he closed his eyes and imagined Tav…pliant, eager, hungry. Legs spread and center dripping with desire for him. The shameful depth of his need faded away as he fantasized her own. How her eyes might shine as she panted and gasped under him, calling him by name and begging him to fuck her and fill her and mark her as his—

What would she sound like as he took her? He conjured the timbre of her voice, always warm and musical, now canting to a whine as the ridges at his base slammed against her with each thrust.

Pressure coiled rapid and hot at his loins. Rolan slid off the mattress with legs braced, the pillow cast aside, and tugged frantically at his stiff length again. His tail arched and flicked behind him.

Through clenched eyelids he saw Tav laid at the foot of his bed, hair splayed in a messy crown against his sheets as she cried out his name. Her legs crossed behind his flanks to hold him deep inside her tight wet heat—

‘Rolan—’ She moaned louder, her heels digging into his lower back as he took her. Tav gripped two handfuls of the bedding underneath as he thrust relentlessly, chasing more of her heat around his cock, more of the delicious scent at her throat and between her legs—

“Rolan!”

“Fuck—” With a strangled gasp, Rolan’s hips stuttered one last time as his come spilled in ropes to the floor. Panting and shaking, he caught hold of the bed post with one hand as he frantically worked out the rest of his finish with the other. His head spun with the force of it.

But as he opened his eyes and his vision cleared, so did that cottony feeling in his ears. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to his room.

“Rolan, we need to talk—” Even muffled by the heavy wood, Tav’s voice was unmistakable.

“Fuck,” Rolan hissed again, this time with enough wits about him to panic. How much of that last performance could she hear through the door? He snatched up the nearest towel to wipe himself, then tripped away toward the pile of clothes on the floor that had lain untouched since yesterday.

“Go away,” he called tersely, nevertheless yanking the trousers up over his hips. Thank hells that last round had left him soft enough he could do up the laces for now.

On the other side of the door, she was undeterred. “I’m not leaving till I’ve seen you.”

Rolan cursed as one of his horns snagged the ties at the neck of his shirt. Once the fabric dropped over his torso, he whirled around to take in the state of his room. 

Bedsheets pulled sideways from the mattress; pillows strewn across the floorboards; air thick with the smell of him. Absolute filthy shambles.

Using a rush of energy he couldn't afford, he cast a mass prestidigitation spell on the space. The improvement in the air was immediate. But the resulting light-headedness caused him to stumble forward; he caught himself with a hand braced on the door frame.

“I'm not joking,” Tav called loudly, unaware he was now much closer.

He could have yelled at her to wait outside for another week, then, if he wasn't so sure she was stubborn enough to actually do so. After all, this was the person who’d defeated an Elder Brain and taken on several gods in the process.

That…and he found he badly wanted to see Tav in the flesh. Hearing her voice from just beyond his bedroom door only increased that desire. Rolan’s tail lashed behind him in helpless frustration.

“What do you want?” He asked instead, lowering his voice. No use broadcasting any more of this conversation to the whole Tower.

There was a pause on the other side of the oak paneling. “I’ve barely seen you since I got here,” Tav’s voice replied, matching his volume.

“And?” 

“And I'm worried about you…obviously,” she added. “Cal and Lia said you’re sick. But I’d feel better if we could talk face to face.” Even through the barrier between them, he could hear a strain in her voice. She wasn't lying. 

Rolan rested his horns against his braced forearm with a sigh. “Tav, I swear I'm perfectly fine.”

“Then just open the door a moment. Please, Rolan?”

It was far too pleasant to hear her say his name outside of his own imaginings. Rolan glanced down at himself. Barefoot, shirt untucked, but technically presentable. And not pitching a tent for once in the past twenty-four hours. 

“If I do, will you leave?” 

There was another pause. “If you want me to,” came the reply. He unbolted the latch and drew it open to shoulder width.

The wave of Tav’s scent hit him almost before he registered her face in front of him. The sweetness of it overwhelmed his other senses for a moment. It tested all Rolan’s limited reserves of sanity not to grab her by the waist and pull her body against him.

Unaware of the silent struggle raging in his chest, Tav stood with face tilted up toward his. Her eyes had traveled over his figure immediately, checking him over with a worried little crease between her brows. Something at the side of his head caught her eye; Rolan realized his hair hung loose and rather sweaty, exposing the slender tips of his ears.

Her demeanor changed at the sight. Tav sighed, leaning her head against the flat of the door.

“You’re even handsome with a fever,” she told him softly.

Rolan blinked at her. Perhaps exhaustion and hormones were driving him to hallucinations. “What are you—”

Faster than he could react, her palms landed on either side of his face, and Tav pulled his mouth down to hers.

A burst of colors exploded behind his eyes; the sensation of her lips moving on his kindled the dormant heat in his body to wild blaze. She notched her hands upward as she kissed him, and her fingers slid up along the sensitive tapers of both his ears.

Rolan let out a hungry, animal sound against her mouth. Both hands landed on her back and crushed the line of her body forward into his, leaving no space between them. He could feel the soft hills of her breasts pressing against his chest through clothing. The warm scent rolling off her skin and hair surrounded him with dizzying force.

The higher part of his mind was screaming at him. Rolan desperately tried to focus on what it was saying; as he did, he caught the tang of wine on her lips. The discovery gave him just enough will to pull back from her.

And he did, with one jerking step back into his chambers. “You can’t be here.”

Tav stood panting through parted lips, eyes half-lidded as they traveled over him. Rolan felt flames lick his skin everywhere they moved.

“Why not?” She breathed. “I wanted to see you.”

“You’re drunk,” he told her. He rather felt that way himself, still reeling from the electricity of kissing her.

Tav pouted at that, and Rolan wished to bite that lower lip firmly between his teeth. “I’m not drunk,” she corrected. “I’ve had a drink. There’s a difference.”

“You wouldn’t be here if—”

“If what?” Tav watched him as she took a step closer. Rolan stepped back in tandem, reflexive. She was well over the threshold now. “If I knew what was really happening to you?”

Those words sounded much more knowing than he liked. Rolan stared at her, trying to read into her face. He swallowed against the dry lump of his tongue and went out on a limb. “Which one of them told you?”

Tav shook her head. “Cal and Lia have been nothing but discreet.” 

“Then how could you possibly understand?” He demanded. The very recent discovery of how soft Tav’s lips were was making it very difficult to maintain this conversation. He could still feel the way her body had pressed into him.

One corner of her mouth twitched. “Rolan, I’d like to think I’m not completely oblivious. There have been…signs. And I’ve had a lot of time to think about them. I’ve been at the Elfsong all afternoon, just—thinking.”

At that, Rolan felt his tail twitching nervously behind him. “I see,” he replied. Pivoting, like an idiot, trying to pretend this was a perfectly acceptable conversation to have with the woman who occupied most of his thoughts when he was pleasuring himself. “And you think that I—that my—”

Tav made a quick twisting motion to get around the door. She latched it and drew the bolt closed behind them, then turned back to him.

“A lot of humans have heard rumors about Tieflings,” she confessed. “Some stupid, but some credible. I’m saying this is maybe not the secret that you think it is.” As he watched, a much deeper blush spread over Tav’s cheeks. She glanced away to the side. 

“Rolan…I grew up in the Dales, remember? Around rabbits, and cattle, and oxen. Half my friends lived on farms.”

Her analogy couldn’t be clearer. To hear her lay it out so plainly—Rolan felt the last dregs of his pride shrivel up and die. He gripped two palms over his eyes and let out a groan of abject humiliation, turning away to the middle of the room. 

How early had she connected the dots? The moment she felt him brazenly place a hand around her? Had she known all along that he was locked up here, rutting into every one of his pillows?

“Look, Rolan, I’m sorry—I didn’t know how else to say it—” 

Completely overwhelmed by his embarrassment, he hadn’t heard her follow. When Rolan finally dropped his hands from his face, he turned to find Tav standing very close to his chest.

“And I’m sorry for kissing you before,” she blurted out. “I mean, I’m not sorry for it…I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, to be honest. But it wasn’t fair. I just…wanted to know how you’d react.”

Rolan watched as her chest rose and fell heavily where she stood. The look in her eyes made his blood pound through his veins. He felt an urge to reach out and smooth back her hair to bring her in for another kiss, one he resisted.

“I care about you,” Rolan told her, before he could lose his nerve. “Our friendship. I respect you, Tav, it’s not worth—muddying things with this.” 

He felt fingers lacing through the ones that hung at his side, and despite his words Rolan tightened his grip automatically. Her hand was so pleasantly cool against the heat of his skin.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Tav answered earnestly. “I care about you, too. If I can help, I want to. Please—”

She was so close to him; Rolan breathed shallowly, but the warm scent rolling off her skin and hair nevertheless swept past him with dizzying force.

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” he managed hoarsely.

She didn’t falter. “Then tell me what else you think I should know.”

His senses were growing clouded with her; the offer that had tumbled so easily from her rang in his ears. It made the thread of Rolan’s control stretch dangerously taut.

“I won’t be gentle,” he warned. 

His inadvertent shift in tone changed something in the air between them. There was a crackling energy that hadn't been there a second before.

Tav licked her lips as she watched him. “Good.”

Rolan thought he might melt from the heat that spread across his skin. His tail snapped against the mattress behind him. If she moved a step closer, she’d feel how hard he was in his pants.

“Mating bites,” he went on hoarsely. “I’ll mark you. Quite a lot. I’ll try not to draw blood, but…I can’t promise it.”

Tav nodded. “What else?” She asked, encouraging him to go on. 

Rolan swallowed against the embarrassment. But this was important for her to know. “This time for us, it’s all about…reproduction. We become quite virile.” He nearly choked, but there was simply no other way to put it. “For the urges to pass quicker, I need to come in you.”

Tav let out a throaty hum of approval. His cock twitched in his pants at the sound. “That’s fine, I take preventatives—it’s safe.”

They stood looking at each other for another moment. That shivery, electric feeling buzzed in the air around them. Rolan wondered if she could hear the way his heart drummed against his ribs.

Tav leaned in slightly. “Well…” She said, and her wet tongue passed nervously between her lips again.

That taut thread in his chest snapped in two. Rolan crushed her up against him with a whimper. Arms circling around her waist, he nudged a thigh between her legs and firmly ground their hips together.

Tav matched his eagerness. Their lips crashed together; at the back of his mind, he felt her grip cradling under each of his ears. Her fingertips licked like flame against his scalp.

Even through layers of clothing, he could feel the heat of her. Rolan jerked her hips forward harder against his thigh; the swelling length of his cock pressed against her soft, yielding center. Tav dipped her head back from the kiss, arching into him with a moan, and her fingertips laced at the nape of his neck. 

It offered an irresistible angle at the column of her throat. Rolan’s claws raked back in her hair, pulling it to a tight ponytail. Then he tugged firmly, holding her open as his mouth descended on her neck.

He kissed and sucked along the band of muscle from her ear to the curve of her shoulder, then parted his lips to bite down firmly on her soft flesh. 

“Yes,” Tav moaned in approval above him. Her hips rolled into his, grinding herself against the hard cock straining in his pants. Rolan felt her pulse skip against his mouth. Only when he tasted sweet copper did he pull away, laving his tongue over the crimson pin-pricks of his teeth into her skin.

He took only a moment to admire the trail of marks blooming along her neck. Tav was already pulling him in for another kiss. Their lips crashed together with bruising force; her tongue explored, tasting, searching for proof of her blood against his tongue and moaning against him when she found it.

Her scent filled his mind. Without breaking from her mouth, he plucked open the laces of her pants. Rolan slipped his hand under the waistband, beneath her smalls, and slid two fingers to dip down between her legs. Her folds were shining-slick; as he nudged her in circles, a trickle of her arousal rolled down his fingers. She shivered prettily under his touch.

“You’re soaked,” Rolan groaned against her neck. 

“All because of you,” she breathed without hesitation. “Been wanting this, gods, wanting you for months. Your hands on me—cock in me—”

At the words he withdrew his fingers from her impatiently, then sucked them clean. Her sweet taste on his tongue made his cock ache. She scarcely had time to curse at the sight before Rolan gripped both arms around her waist to lift her into him.

With one quick pivot, he landed her down on the bed with his frame pressed into her. Her legs hung off the edge from the hip down, and he used the position to grind the stiff length in his pants against her cleft.

Even fully clothed, it was maddening. He could feel the wet patch between her legs, and when she arched further into him, a primal growl rumbled in his chest. 

Tav’s fingers were brushing at his sides, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Off,” she panted impatiently.

Rolan tilted back to rip the garment up over his horns, immediately reaching for her own once his was free. He stripped her frantically, ripping her smallclothes in two before he could work them down her thighs.

When she lay bare beneath him, moaning and arching into everywhere he touched, he was overcome with hunger for more of her taste. 

Rolan gripped her hips, dragging her with a jerk to the edge of the bed. With her glistening folds displayed before him, all he could do was drop to his knees and bury his tongue between them.

The sounds she made were like sweet music as he explored her. He sucked and massaged her slit with his tongue, then plunged it as deep within her walls as he could. His eyes rolled back in his head. Her taste surrounded him; his nose brushed her clit as he ate her, further overwhelming his senses with the scent of her arousal.

“Gods, yes, Rolan—” Tav moaned above him as her hands flew to grip each of his horns. She alternately tugged them and arched into his mouth, grinding her clit against his face.

He wanted to hear her say his name like that another thousand times. Rolan curled his tongue against her walls, determined to taste her even deeper, but to no avail. Without his sharp nails, he would have sunk two fingers into her.

Instead, as his mouth left her, the ridged end of his tail looped around to brush over her slit.

“Ah—” Tav gasped from the bed. One of her hands left him to prop up on an elbow to look. 

He watched her face in adoration as his tail slid between her soaked lips, coating itself in a mixture of her arousal and his saliva. Once it was thoroughly wet, he let the heart-shaped tip push experimentally into her.

Whatever hesitation he had evaporated at the way she arched and keened. He pushed in further, inch by inch, hissing in breath at how tight and wet her walls squeezed around him. Rolan felt his cock leaking between his legs at the sight of his tail disappearing into her plush cunt.

“Taking my tail so well,” Rolan praised without thinking, then groaned. “Fuck, Tav, you’re so tight—”

“Don’t stop,” she demanded, breathless.

When he felt the tip brush the limits of her insides, he held it steady as she panted down at him. Her mouth hung open in anticipation as she watched him lean in again for her center.

But instead of landing on her clit, his mouth met with the soft skin of her inner thigh and sucked it firmly between his teeth.

Tav gave a little yelp of pain, but her walls constricted around his tail so hard he moaned against her flesh. He left two more lovely red marks against her thigh before withdrawing his tail from her, leaving only the tip inside her silk.

Then he thrust back into her and took up a forceful rhythm of stretching her open on his tail.

“Fucking gods,” she gasped, gripping both his horns again. He felt her use them as leverage as she bounced her hips down to meet him. 

“Like this, don’t you?” Rolan urged her on, drunk off her desire. “Fucking yourself on my tail—” He leaned down to take another taste of her clit, swirling and sucking as the ridges on his tail dragged more wetness out of her with each thrust.

“Yes,” Tav moaned, shaking under him as his tongue worked over her clit. “Feels so perfect in me, so—ngh—!”

When he flicked the tip of it up inside her, Tav’s words stuttered to incoherence. He felt her inner walls clench and flutter, and repeated the motion over and over with each thrust.

“I’m—oh, oh ohohoh—”

She dissolved into soft cries. The muscles at her core tensed and shuddered as she climaxed against his tongue. Rolan withdrew his tail from her with a slick release, instead clasping his mouth over her to lap down the sweet taste that poured from her. His pants were so wet he was nearly convinced he’d already come, but he felt his cock straining against the fabric just as firmly.

When her thighs collapsed limp to either side, Rolan pushed himself to his feet for a look at her. Tav’s eyes were bright, cheeks flushed with arousal, her hair coiled out in wild tendrils that framed her like a crown. Their eyes met; with both hands on his arms, she pulled him down for a kiss.

Rolan landed braced on his forearms. Their tongues slid and pushed together, trading the taste of her release. When he felt her reaching between them to undo his laces, he pulled away to loose them and strip off the rest of his clothes. 

Tav reached for his erection, and before he’d steadied himself, she gripped his length to drag the generous droplets of precum around his tip with her thumb. His hips bucked into her.

“Eager, aren’t you?” She teased softly.

“Yes,” Rolan groaned. Tav’s soft hand was around his cock for the first time; it was all he could do to locate words. He knew his face was flushed and tense with arousal, but Tav only looked up at him with appreciation from where she lay back on his bed. 

When she guided his length across the wet of her core, he rocked his hips to drag his ridges across her. She shivered slightly, still sensitive, but rolled into him.

“Need you,” Rolan panted, not sure whether he was asking her or begging. “Tav—please—”

Tav’s hand lined him up with her entrance. When his leaking tip nudged inside her, Rolan pushed forward with one slow, determined cant of his hips.

The cool slick of her walls clutched each inch of him so perfectly. A low groan rose in Rolan’s throat—this was the closest thing to real satisfaction that he’d gotten in days, and he hadn't even started moving yet.

“So good,” Tav said under him, voice sweet and husky. “Keep going—”

Rolan braced his hands against her hips. He pulled out slowly, legs shaking beneath him, then pushed back into the tight plush of her. 

His hips took up a firm pace, and Rolan couldn't bite back his whines as he plunged his cock inside her. Whatever his fevered imagination had conjured, it was nothing compared to this—he fell over her again, fangs skating against her breast as her body rocked under him with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, fuck—” Tav was just as breathless as her fingers gripped the infernal ridges on his shoulder blades. She tugged, egging him on.

Rolan took the invitation with enthusiasm. He nipped and sucked around the swell of her breast, breathing in lungfuls of the sweetness rolling off her skin.

“Harder,” Tav begged, the words vibrating against his lips. The hunger inside him surged in agreement.

Rolan’s lips fastened over one nipple. He sucked, hard, letting his tongue roll her against his teeth. Tav let out a whimper, but he felt her legs crossing around his hips as he continued to bury himself in her.

Rolan pulled away to look at her face. A mist of sweat dusted her brow; Tav’s lips were parted and twitching with silent words. 

“Look at me,” Rolan ordered, still filling her with his cock in a steady rhythm.

Tav obeyed, her eyes shining and pupils blown wide. He straightened away from her, never breaking, and laid a hand each on her calves. Then he pushed up, folding her legs to her chest and opening up her cunt even deeper for him.

“You look so beautiful like this, Tav,” he told her, thighs trembling with the effort of keeping his pace slow and steady. “Folded in half in my bed. Stretched around my cock so perfectly.”

In response, Tav’s hands grabbed her knees, pulling herself open even further to each side. “Is this how you imagined it?” She asked wickedly. “All alone—wishing it was me and not your own hand—”

Heat prickled across his neck and shoulders, but Rolan was too far gone to feel shame. He couldn't resist breaking eye contact, however, watching the way his cock stretched open her dripping cunt.

“Just like this,” he panted in answer. She took in breath to respond, but he was already slamming back into her at a reckless pace.

The lewd, wet sounds of his thrusts filled the room, layered with their chorus of whines and moans. Rolan shuddered at how slick and tight she was around him, perfectly gripping each inch of his needy length. His cock throbbed in anticipation of a satisfying release, finally, after all these times of not quite enough—

“I’m close,” he panted, gripping her hips to pull her down deeper onto his cock. The tip of him nudged against the limits of her walls. “Where should—”

“Inside,” Tav insisted, still holding herself wide for him. “Only inside, Rolan, want you to fill me up—fuck—”

The imagery pushed him over the edge, and he did just that. With a throb of release, he felt his cock pulsing and filling her deepest walls with his seed. His hips stuttered into her as he pushed his spend as far into her as he could reach.

Tav clutched his shoulders as he came, humming and moaning out praises for him. Their hips rocked together, nudging his coated length back against her deep center. 

Tav went tense under him. He forced his eyes open and saw her lips parted in surprise.

“I’m—oh—!” 

She gasped in shock as her own climax gripped her. Rolan hissed in breath at the way she clenched and fluttered so suddenly around him. His length was still hard, and his ridges pulsed against her.

As she drifted back down, Tav’s eyes finally lit on him in a daze. “What…what was that?”

Rolan was abruptly reminded of how many ruts he’d spent without a partner. “I'm sorry, I should've warned you,” he confessed. It was hard to form his thoughts while still inside her. “During the cycle…infernal traits get stronger. Like incubi. Helps attract a partner.” Somehow this explanation was more embarrassing than any of the other filth he’d just spoken to her.

Tav stared up at him. “You're saying your come is going to make me come?”

“Essentially.” Rolan shifted inside her slightly, still not confident he was done. “I apologize—I didn't think to tell you. Is that a problem?”

“Rolan—” Tav let out a breathless laugh, and the sound went straight to his chest. “This is the exact opposite of a problem. Just a bit of a shock, that's all.”

The lovely sight of her happy and satisfied under him was too much to resist. Rolan leaned forward on his arms to kiss her, trapping her legs between their chests.

As her hand stroked softly under his jaw, Rolan felt a second ache settling in his loins. He released her lips for just long enough to push her legs out over his hips, then ducked back down for her mouth.

He rolled his hips into her slower this time, but it was somehow more intense. Their lips stayed connected as he drove into her deep. Her walls were slippery with arousal and his own seed, and they gripped like pure silk around his cock. Her opening slid over the sensitive ridges at his base with each thrust.

When he dipped a thumb between their bodies to rub circles over her clit, Tav broke away with a little gasp.

“I can’t again,” she said, panting.

“You can,” he told her simply. “Hold on to me—” 

She did, wrapping both arms and legs firmly around him as if he was her anchor. Rolan dipped his head to her neck as he doubled his pace, their hips slotting together with each brisk slide into her. He breathed deep against the curve of her shoulder.

Still so hungry for release, it wasn't long before he came again hard. This time he just barely pumped his spend into her before he pulled out to look down.

Sticky white seed dribbled out of her slit, running down toward her hole. He dipped the thumb circling her clit down to swipe it back up across her cunt, painting his come across the bundle of nerves at her peak.

Tav’s thighs twitched under him, and she gripped his arm tight with one hand. She swore as he continued flicking across her clit with the wet pad of his thumb, then whined out his name.

While her next orgasm nearly doubled her in half, Rolan tilted his head to watch the sight between her legs. She was soaked, twitching, utterly intoxicating. Her contracting walls pushed more of his spend out of her; it flowed generously from her slit and soaked down into the bedding below.

Finding himself now utterly spent, Rolan collapsed on his back next to her. As he did, he realized his legs had grown fatigued to the point of buckling from the exertions. He let his body sink heavy into the mattress. 

“I made a mess on your sheets,” Tav panted from beside him. 

Rolan groaned at her descriptive language. The fact that his length continued softening was a sign his urges were finally giving him a reprieve, however. “It was mostly my fault.”

She only let out a weak breath of laughter.

Too tired to trust his shaking legs, he reached an arm blind over the side of the bed and snatched up the first fabric it touched. His discarded shirt.

Pushing himself seated, he gently reached to dry between Tav’s legs. One of her hands traced the ridges on his back as he quietly tended to her.

“How long before the next?” She asked him.

“An hour or two.” Rolan didn't look at her. “Tav, you've done more than enough for m—”

The mattress shifted as she sat up and turned his face into a waiting kiss. It was soft, just a chorus of little presses across his lips.

When Tav pulled away, she tucked the damp curtain of his hair behind one ear. “Rolan, unless you want me to go, I'm staying until it’s over.”

Rolan cast a glance over her. Despite the fact that she was naked in his bed and covered in blooming bruises from his mouth, she was very much the same Tav as ever. “Thank you,” he told her quietly.

She pushed him onto his back with a sudden laugh, landing with her chest pressed to his. “What an utterly Rolan thing to say,” she mused. “Need I remind you I just came three times?”

Tav was teasing him, and was of a mind to put her in her place—only he found that none of his limbs wanted to move at the moment. Instead, his only response was a deep hum as his eyelids drooped shut.

He felt the mattress shift as she rose and wished he could reach out to stop her. But a moment later she curled up next to him again, dragging a soft quilt over their bodies. 

Rolan turned inward to rest his head on Tav’s chest—and fell into his first real slumber in days.

[everythingne]

christmas in monaco - cl16 [2]

Trying to even bring up boys with Max ends up in a fight. You and Charles have a heart-to-heart. Daniel and Carlos help you devise a plan.

warnings/notes: comparing Max to Jos during the fight, mentions of shit parents, one (1) jab at Kelly, the chapter is serious and then Daniel shows up and that goes to shit, the last bit of set up before i go full scooby-do search party through the doors on you guys

verstappen!reader x charles leclerc, secret dating/brothers best friend

prev | next

-

You know you're in for it when you open the door to Max's apartment, groceries tucked lazily in one arm and coffees in the other and he's staring at you.

"What?" You ask as if you have no idea what he wants. You can see Penelope laying on the floor, coloring while some cartoon you've never heard of plays, and thus immediately switch to Dutch.

"[Why do you look like you're mad at me?]" You say, walking over to where he sits on the kitchen island, plopping down the groceries, and handing him the coffee you'd bought. Kelly's off doing god knows what today, leaving the two of you to watch Penelope before you return to your apartment next door.

"[Who is he?]" Max asks, taking the coffee with a nod of a thank you as he helps you organize the groceries. You knew posting that picture would cause this conversation, you and Charles had spoken about easing Max into the fact you were dating at all, and maybe it wasn't the best idea. Max had been fiercely protective over you since you were kids, you don't know why you assumed he'd stop now that you were adults.

"[I haven't told anyone yet. We're keeping it hush.] Okay?" You speak softly, setting down some things for dinner. Simple pasta, since Penelope had picked that over pizza--as long as you made her meatballs as well. You pluck the ingredients from the mess of other groceries, making sure you have everything as Max leans back in his seat.

"[Oh, so I'm just anyone now?]" Max lifts his hands in agitation, the same accusatory tone of your father's ringing in Max's voice. You swallow your vitriol, crossing your arms taught over Charles' hoodie you wear as you cross the room, then you tug up the red sleeves of the hoodie as you set down the ingredients for dinner by the stove.

"[Max, come on.]" You urge, hoping he'll drop it. But he's as stubborn as your father and as impatient as him too.

"[No, I feel like I have a right to be upset over this, how long have you two been seeing each other?]" His pointed glare at you as you whisk out a pan from under the stove makes your skin burn hot. You pause, mouth opening and closing as you slowly slide the pot onto the stove. If you say two years, does that link you to Charles too quickly? But if you lie, will Max see right through you? And you can't dodge the question, not here, not now.

"A couple months." You say. Yeah, twenty-four of them, then you scoff when Max makes a face, "[Stop acting like a child.]"

"[And how come Danny knows?]"

"[He found out on accident, and honestly I remember now why I didn't wanna tell you.]" You huff, filling the pot with water and clicking the burner on. You tie your hair up lazily, looking over at Max as your crack-open fridge next to the stove and then turn to grab the ingredients to make the sauce, "[you're treating me like a toddler.]"

"[You're my baby sister, I feel like I am kinda... obligated, to be concerned?]" Max's voice is sharp as you start to whip up the same sauce you've been making since you were fourteen. Max stands up and crosses the room to stand next to you, "[And I'm not treating you like a toddler. It's my job to protect you as your brother.]"

"[I'm a year younger than you! I'm not a baby, you just don't trust me, which is fucking stupid because I'm not the one dating a woman almost a decade older than me!]" You huff as you turn to Max, who tries to stammer some defense to his situation but you don't give him a chance to, "[and I don't know why you think I can't date drivers, by the way, you trust those guys with your life but not my heart?]"

"[Those guys are cheaters, I don't want you hurt.]" Max runs a hand through his hair, watching as you continue making the sauce. You can tell, just by his eyes, that he's thinking of the times you used to make him pasta after races growing up. You try to not think about the past.

"Who?" You ask, looking at the sauce and burning the red color into your retinas, mentally praying that he's not catching onto you.

"Lando, probably." Max huffs, stepping back, "Charles."

"Charles?" You hum, hating that you come to his defense immediately and not Lando's, "[The guy who just announced the girl he's been dating for two years?]"

"[He's done some interesting things.]" Max says in his defense and you can't help but laugh. You knew before Charles met you he had been a bit of a womanizer, or 'man-whore' as your friends so kindly said. But with you, it was like Charles was a brand new person.

"[You're so overdramatic.]" You deadpan, turning to add the noodles to the sauce and Max scoffs.

"[I'm trying to protect you so you don't end up with someone like Dad!]"

"[You haven't even met my boyfriend yet and you're assuming the worst! Why are you being such a dick, Max!?]" You slam the spoon down and then flinch, remembering Penelope is in the other room the second you do it. It takes a few seconds, and then her little head peeks around the doorway.

"Are you fighting?" She asks sweetly and you shake your head.

"No, Penny, it's fine." You try to smile at her, but Max seems to have taken another level of offense to everything.

"Y/n. [Go fuck off to your mystery boy, why don't you?]" Max takes the spoon off the counter. His cold shoulder isn't something new, but it's the way he says it, sounding like the harsh whispers your father would pass at you in public, makes you swallow hard. You walk across the room, grabbing your purse and car keys off the table before kneeling down in front of Penelope and kissing her hairline.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay honey? Sorry if I scared you when I slammed the spoon down." You squeeze her in a tight hug, closing your eyes as you feel Max's eyes burn into the back of your head.

"Okay, Tante Y/n." She smiles, throwing her tiny arms around you, "And it's okay, I thought you dropped it."

You step back, kissing her hairline again, before getting up and leaving the apartment in a breeze, coffee forgotten. Your hands fumble with your phone, finding Charles' contact and sending him a quick message as you try and calm your anger.

--

You have a spare key, and as you jiggle your phone and keys in your hands to find it, the door swings open and two arms wrap around you. Laughing softly, you bury your face into the fabric of Charles' sweater and sigh heavily. He's warm, smelling of the usual cedar cologne you'd bought for him a while back. He also smells weakly like his hair products and if you try to search for it, your perfume lingers on his neck.

"Hi, amour." You murmur into the fabric and he bends at the knee enough to scoop you up to carry you the few inches inside before popping you back on your feet as he uses one hand to push the door shut.

"Hi." He says back, stepping back and squishing your cheeks in his hands and peppers soft kisses to your hairline, "Sorry about Max."

"It's fine. He's just being overprotective again." You kick off your shoes and follow Charles to the living room, flopping down on his couch and burying your head in your hands.

"You know if..." Charles sighs, hand coming through his hair and then pausing as he scratches at his neck, "If it's gonna be easier for you, I can try and talk to him?"

"No... I should tell him, he's my brother. I just don't think now is a good time?" You say as Charles pops down next to you on the couch and you shift so you can lay his head in your lap as you kick your feet onto the coffee table to rest, "he just seems so... agitated."

"Because you're dating?"

"He's afraid I'm gonna end up with someone like Dad. That's the problem. He doesn't trust anyone with me and gives them no chances. He thought Jolie was a drug dealer for like, six months!"

"She's a teacher?" Charles turns to you and you can't help but just laugh because that's Max.

"I know!" You huff.

Silence lulls for a while, and then Charles sits up and grabs you to unceremoniously pull you against his chest as he lays you both down on the couch. your face squishes against his hands as he peppers soft kisses to your hairline, the apples of your cheeks, and your nose, before pressing one long kiss to your lips. Pulling back just enough to murmur,

"I wanna spend Christmas with you, properly, this year." He says against your lips, your eyes fluttering before he presses his thumb to your pulse to draw you back enough to make eye contact, "I want to be able to post you, to talk about you with everyone because you're so fucking amazing, and I wanna meet your siblings and your mom and go on holidays with you guys and have our moms meet because Maman and Arthur both adore you and..."

Charles drawls off for a moment, hands coming up to cup your face as he thumbs along the warm, delicate skin of your cheeks, "I want, one day, to be able to get down on one knee and give you my whole heart."

Your pulse rams under his touch, cheeks dusted red, eyes wide but happily smiling as he leans in to lock in a long kiss, then he peppers some pecks on the corners of your mouth.

"The problem is, I can't do anything without Max knowing about us. Two years of us dating without telling him is already bad enough and he's been in my life since we were kids--even if we absolutely hated each other at first." Charles sighs, pressing a final quick kiss to your lips before letting you rest your head on his chest, "I feel terrible he doesn't know."

"But you know what he said." You sigh, closing your eyes against the warm fabric of his sweater--the grey one you'd bought for him a while back.

"I know, but we're either going to tell Max, or Max will find out." Charles sighs, "I prefer the first if I'm honest."

Even as you nod in agreement, you feel sick. The bubble of you and Charles had been safe for so long, that you weren't sure if you wanted to let Max in. But he was your brother, a year and fifteen days older, and you had told him everything up to this point. You'd be lying if you said you didn't also feel like shit for keeping Max out of the loop, but yet you feel like you have to.

"How'd Daniel find out?" Charles asks after a moment and he looks at you with those big eyes that make your heart thrum under your skin, love, and adoration seep from him and you don't understand at that moment how he could've ever been a womanizer when he looks at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him.

And then a small smirk peeks across his lips, "Because I know how Carlos did--"

"That one was your fault, Leclerc." You poke his chest, "Not locking the driver's room door was stupid."

"It was! But we're lucky it was Carlos."

"We're lucky we were only kissing."

"[We could've done more.]" He teases, making sure to really ramp up his accent as he speaks French so it's a bit harder for you to follow along, but you get the gist and whack his chest.

"Daniel saw me leaving, he was in the area doing media stuff." You explain, "I guess he saw me leaving."

"Oh, I thought it was because he moved in downstairs last week." Charles hums and you snap your eyes open and exclaim--

"What?!"

"Mhm. And Carlos lives in this building too." Charles looks over at you from where his eyes had been burning a hole in the ceiling, "Mon chéri, a lot of the drivers live in Monaco."

"I'm gonna lose it." You grumble, then pause, sitting up so you're hovering over Charles, one of his hands slides to support your waist immediately so you don't slide off.

"Carlos and Danny know." You say.

"Mhm."

"And... Carlos is your best friend--"

"--Arguably--"

"--and Danny is arguably Max's best friend, behind you."

"Uh-huh."

"...What if we ask them for help?"

"Absolutely not am I asking those two," Charles says and you huff.

"Come on! We clearly can't do it ourselves!" You exclaim, bouncing yourself on him with your arms, making him grunt as your body weight hits him.

"Daniel will tell us to do some sort of skit and Carlos will say for us to just say it!" Charles grips your waist and pulls you closer, "I don't need their shit advice."

"Maybe we need their guidance, and I promise it won't be bad! I promise! We can invite them over, have some wine and dinner, and voice our concerns--maybe they know something about Max we don't! Maybe they'll know he won't be mad or something."

"Y/n." He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

"Charles!" You whine, "Look, if they give us shit advice, we kick them out and go back to the drawing board."

"Fine. But I'm holding you to this."

--

"I'm going to kick Danny out in about five seconds." You hiss to Charles and he laughs.

"Dude!" Danny shouts from where he sits on the floor, "I'm just saying, Max likes Charles. We all see it!"

"Believe me." Carlos hums into his wine, "There's a reason that... what is it... Lestappen shit is so popular. He's not gonna be mad its Charles. If it was like... me? Probably. Charles and Daniel are probably the only two drives you could date."

"And Yuki." Charles hums, "I don't think Yuki could do wrong."

"He might stab someone with the chef's knives he got for Secret Santa." Daniel points out and you snort.

"But you seriously have nothing to worry about." Carlos nods, "Honestly, you both are so stressed about it, I don't think either of you can think clearly."

You huff, "I feel like I can be stressed though. Max will either be fine with it or hate me forever."

"No, not forever, étoile." Charles hums, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he draws you close.

"I don't think Max can physically hate you. I think he'd explode." Daniel hums, "Remember when you were sick and he thought you were ignoring him but you just literally couldn't hear out of one ear and he almost had a crisis?"

"You remember that?" You blink at Daniel. That had been only shortly after you'd met Daniel, the first race of that season. You were so delirious you couldn't remember most of the weekend, but you remember Christian and Daniel holding that over Max's head for weeks after.

"I do because he almost lost his mind for like four hours thinking you were mad at him and ignoring him. And then you rolled over and woke up from your nap." Daniel finishes the unceremonious story and Charles and Carlos burst into high-pitched laughter.

"He didn't think to like, shake her shoulder?" Carlos asks between laughter, finishing off his wine and grabbing a bottle from the little makeshift bowl cooler you put on the floor. He pours himself another glass and then tops everyone else off before putting the bottle back.

"He knew she was sick, and Y/n specifically told him not to touch her or go near her while she was sick." Daniel explains, thanking Carlos before taking a sip of the wine, "It was ridiculous. And then he made her promise that she wasn't actually mad."

"It was pretty funny." You grin and Carlos nods.

"So then Daniel is right, Max can't stand you being angry at him. So he can't be angry with you. If he is, he's a hypocrite, and fuck him, obviously." Carlos raises his glass in mock toast as sarcasm bleeds through his sentence halfway through, "But I can't say he won't be mad. He might be furious when he finds out, you have explained how protective Max can be, but I think he'll feel better knowing it's Charles."

"Charles is like his best friend," Daniel hums, "if you're dating someone he trusts I'm sure he'll feel better about it."

"Didn't we just make this point?" Carlos turns to Daniel who nods.

"Yeah, but it's a good one, so make it again."

"Max trusts Charles so it's fine," Carlos says and you laugh, waving your hands.

"Okay, so how the fuck do we do this?"

The plan is simple but effective. And it takes a few words to describe; be exactly the same, but a bit less secretive.

And the best way to start that is via social media. Once again.

-

y/nverstappen made a new post! ↴

liked by carlossainz, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 412k others..

y/nverstappen: he called me his star <3

joliejolie: CYOOTIE PATOOTIE WHHAAAT

user1: caption??? GUYS?? CAPTION??

maxverstappen: i still don't know who

charlesleclerc: thanks for using all my film

charlesleclerc made a new post! ↴

liked by ynverstappen, danielricciardo, landonorris, and 612k others...

charlesleclerc: never getting rid of this camera.

user2: get me someone who will do this for me.

danielricciardo: DUDE THERE ARE KIDS HERE.

⤷ landonorris: im covering oscar and logans eyes

⤷ logansargeant: yeah ok.

⤷ charlesleclerc: ill get worse

⤷ oscarpiastri: pls no

⤷ carlossainz: ill buy u wine if you do

⤷ danielricciardo: DONT ENCOURAGE THAT WE DONT NEED A FUCKING HOMICIDE ON OUR HANDS??? CARLOS???

⤷ ynverstappen: why is DANIEL on damage control??

user1: why is this the sweetest thing ever?

ynverstappen.jpg: make a jpg coward

⤷ charlesleclerc.jpg: who says i dont have one.

⤷ landonorris.jpg: its just priv.

⤷ danielricciardo: unpriv coward

⤷ charlesleclerc: ok ?

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: YEAAA SECRET CHARLES PHOTOS!!

charlesleclerc.jpg made a new post! ↴

charlesleclerc.jpg: in her own world.

arthurleclerc: vomiting. put clothes on.

y/nverstappen: TWO shirtless photos. BRO.

⤷ charlesleclerc: oops.

maxverstappen: so she takes after you with not wearing a shirt?

⤷ charlesleclerc: low blow

⤷ ynverstappen: accurate blow tbh

landonorris: where is ferrari's pr manager.

⤷ carlossainz: no one can help her.

ynverstappen.jpg made a new post! ↴

y/nverstappen.jpg: some fuckin gems in my camera roll recently

charlesleclerc: omg finally a feature

danielricciardo: WHEN WAS THAT TAKEN I DO NOT RECALL

⤷ carlossainz: shit talk night w her and charles

⤷ danielricciardo: after the advice?

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: yes and u still owe me a new shirt >:(

maxverstappen: can you ever post a nice photo of me on here?

⤷ y/nverstappen: nope <3!

charlesleclerc: the banana is so old why now

⤷ ynverstappen.jpg: comedy

-

And by god, it starts working.

You're walking with Charles, hands intertwined as you wiggle through the tiny stalls in the small market that's popped up for the holidays. You both find a small corner to hide, stealing a chaste kiss and then you pop a chocolate strawberry in his mouth.

"Oh, damn." He hums, "You are right, these are amazing."

"I told you!" You grin, peeking behind your shoulder to see if anyone is watching. You swear you make eye contact with Max, but the longer you look the less the guy looks like Max so you turn back around.

"You good?" Charles rests a hand on your waist and you nod, taking a strawberry into your mouth and sighing.

"Mhm. Just hate hiding." You lean into his touch, letting him wrap a firm arm around your waist as he peppers a few kisses to your hairline.

"Hey, think about it this way." Charles says, "Soon we won't have to."

As you step back and agree, Daniel pops up next to you with big wide eyes--and not the usual excited ones you're used to seeing.

"Hey, Max, on your six." He pokes your shoulder and you make a face, before Daniel waves his arms around in some sort of odd gesture and hisses out to you, "Clock direction!"

"Oh-!" You whip around as Charles' hand moves off your waist and walking towards you is none other than your brother. Offering a soft smile and wave.

"Hey! Didn't think you'd be here!" You call and he pokes your arm, crossing his arms over his chest as you, Charles, and Daniel kinda scramble to make it look like nothing was going on.

"Kelly wanted to grab some flowers for the kitchen," Max hums. The two of you hadn't really apologized for anything said during the argument. In your family, arguments were never really apologized for, you kinda of just moved on from everything. So even if there was still a bit of an awkward twinge, nothing was said.

"Oh! Somehow Charles and Daniel haven't had the strawberries so I brought them here to try them." You smile, and someone's hand comes to your jaw. You blink as Charles uses one of the napkins to poke your cheek.

"You got chocolate on your face, somehow." He murmurs and you laugh, grabbing his wrist and taking the napkin into your own hands.

"Thank you, Charlie." You blot where he says the chocolate is and you notice Max giving you a weird look. Looking over at your brother, you go to say something before Daniel pulls Max away to look at something, mouthing to you both,

"Be more discreet, maybe?"

And you can't help the giggles that leave your mouth as you lean into Charles and he wraps an arm around you, laughing out apologies.

Yeah, Max was gonna catch on.

-

and now you and Charles had to get real good at lying and dodging watchful eyes. Monaco was a small little country, and now that it would be filled with more people who knew you, it was about to become a real challenge to see if you could make it through the holidays without anyone knowing or noticing.

Oh, especially when your Christmas Eve dinner was now going to have the Leclerc's stopping by as well.

taglist. thank you!

@angelayse @iamahallucinationnn @ilove-tswizzle @supremebaddietrash

[venusindelusion]

Giving In (to the Love): Too Sweet

3rd chapter

SUMMARY: Being in charge of someone's education was heavier than you thought, but tonight doesn't have to be all about books and notes. PAIRING: Vi (Arcane) x Fem!Reader WK: 4K WARNINGS: bit of angst, mentions of alcohol, cursing A/N: slow slow slow burn Previous chapter

Next chapter

After that encounter in the cafeteria you're left feeling nervous and mad, how could she make fun of you so lightly? Didn't her sister told her you weren't the one giving her booze?

You decide to skip your next lesson and head straight home. Once you're inside the elevator, you look for your phone inside your bag and send a text to Caitlyn asking her what time is she coming over.

The elevator stops at your floor and while you're searching for your keys, you see Caitlyn standing in front of your apartment door, carrying some bags on one hand and the other one typing on her phone.

"I didn't know you were here." you say as you approach her, smiling and looking curiously at her bags.

"I wanted to surprise you but I forgot to bring the spare keys you gave me." she says as you turn the key around and open the door.

Once inside, Caitlyn leaves the bags on the table and takes out the fast food she had bought, preparing everything for both of you to eat lunch together. You get into the bathroom and wash your hands and face, then look into the mirror; you felt like shit, and you could feel your mind spinning a thousand miles a second— guilt was cursing through your veins and you couldn't help but wonder what it was about.

Except you did know.

You grab a towel and dry both your hands and face, feeling like cold water didn't do much to your anxiety so you get out of the bathroom and sit in front of your best friend at the table. Both of you start chatting about your day; she tells you that her boss, Marcus, had been driving her crazy all day long until she finally found those papers he was asking for and then let her off for the day. You told her about all the exams you had to grade and then mentioned that Violet's was in that pile too.

"So you took revenge, huh." she says jokingly and chuckles.

"In my defense, it was a mess anyway and," you feel your stomach tied up in a knot, thinking if it was really okay for you to tell her— no, to do it entirely, "now I have to tutor her, so the universe punished me for it already."

You can't decipher what her expression means while she's looking at you but she keeps chewing on her food and laughes lightly. The awkwardness doesn't leave your body and you start thinking you may be going insane, why did you think so much of it? It was just tutoring.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's smarter than she gives on."

What was supposed to make you feel relieved just had the opposite effect. You didn't know they were that close, Caitlyn never mentioned her before that night and now it felt like she was keeping more from you than she might be telling. She is supposed to be your best friend, why wouldn't she tell you she was seeing someone if they were that close?

Food already eaten, you get off your seat and clean the table, grabbing the remaining leftovers and putting them in the fridge for later. You felt a bit sad, and maybe jealous. There was a part of Caitlyn's life you weren't aware of and, for some reason, now you were afraid to ask.

Working after classes sucked, but what sucked even more was having to look for someone who could cover her at work; it couldn't be just anyone. She wouldn't care if the place belonged to someone else and her life didn't literally depend on it, but "The Last Drop" was hers to take care of now. Well, almost.

"Can't pick you up today, Powder." she says, holding her phone on her ear with one hand and organizing bottles on the shelf with the other. "Come straight home, okay? I don't want you messing around again."

Violet could hear her younger sister complaining on the phone about how controlling she was and what plans she already had that night with her friends. It was always the same argument so she let Powder vent about it while she was rearranging the expensive bottles' shelf, hoping that the old wood would resist the weight and not make her lose thousands of dollars. She needed to replace those shelves.

"Look, Pow-pow," holding her phone between her neck and shoulder, Vi kept on trying to convince her sister, "bring Ekko if you want, I could use his help anyway."

With her little sister convinced, Violet put down the phone on the bar and looked over the place; everything needed to be done and she was already feeling tired, both physically and mentally.

All day she had been going around, signing papers and then attending classes. The only time in the day she could actually relax— or unleash some stress, was in the ring; throwing punches, sweating, analyzing her opponent's movements just to finally bring them down. She felt capable, strong and even good at it.

But this? Going to college, watching over her sister, working and barely sleeping; that was hard. It felt impossible at times.

"You've got a good heart," she remembered her father saying, "don't ever lose it. No matter how the world tries to break you."

Those words were like fuel for her, that memory has kept her going for years and it still worked now. She had to bear, just a bit longer.

Violet grabbed her phone again and sent a text to Caitlyn, letting her know that she'd probably be busy the rest of the week because she needed to study. Hard. She got an instant reply, "We'll meet as soon as you can."

Feeling relieved, Vi sighed and continued cleaning and organizing everything at the bar. She was thankful for meeting Caitlyn, it was not long ago and she was already changing her entire life— is this how hope felt? It's been years since she had something to look forward to.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, The Last Drop was ready to be opened but still no one could cover for her. Hearing the keys from the backdoor alerted Violet that her sister was finally home, so she went to greet both Powder and her friend.

"I brought some donuts from work." said Powder, leaving the box on the table. "Although they're dry, that's why I got to bring them."

Violet grabbed one and muttered something about the donuts being dry indeed, but she shrugged it off and ate one anyway. She started her way back to the bar, Ekko following behind her and eating his own dry donut.

"Powder told me about your tutoring lessons," he said as he was chewing, "I can cover for you here, you know."

"I didn't ask."

"I'm offering." he replied as soon as he saw his friend's expression, she was clearly uncomfortable and unexperienced when it came to receiving some extra hands. "C'mon, Vi. I know how the business works and I can handle tough costumers."

Violet had to think about it for a bit; it's true that he knew how the bar worked and handling drunken men wouldn't be a problem for him— if anything, God help the idiot who dared to mess with him, but she had never left anyone to run the place without supervision, not even her sister. However, she didn't really have any other option, she couldn't afford to close for even one night. Those debts wouldn't pay themselves.

"Be puntual, no drinking while working and no letting Powder steal any booze, got it?"

"Got it."

She gave him a nod and finished her donut, then went to the back to let Powder know that she was going to be busy the rest of the night. After a short speech about being responsible, helping Ekko and making her swear that if anything came up she would call her immediately, Violet made her way upstairs and into the apartment.

It was strange having some free time on her hands, she was used to running around and work all night until late, but she figured it was a well deserved break; although she was worried about leaving Ekko and Powder in charge of the place.

"She's ready," Violet thought to herself, it was about time to give her sister more credit. She deserved it, after all; Powder was way smarter than most people, only lacking in concentration but that's normal for a teenager, and Vi wouldn't want her little sister feeling like she had to behave like an adult so soon.

Headed towards the bathroom, Violet decided she could use a hot shower and got inside the bathtub, filled it up with water and added her sister's bath salts into it. She had never tried them, but Powder was always telling her about how relaxed she would feel after if she tried them, so she did. And maybe it was because she was completely drained of energy, but it felt like they were working.

She could feel her body relaxing, her shoulders no longer tense and her eyes blinking heavily— these salts were like magic.

Once she finished cleaning and drying her body, she walked into her bedroom and chose some comfortable pants and a big sized T-shirt, then some bandages for her knuckles; today's training had been more intense than usual and she had forgotten to clean her wounds and covering them.

Back into the living room, Violet turned on the TV and laid down on the couch. This was the whole day off experience, now she just had to wait for her new tutor to text her so she could let her in.

Except, she didn't ask nor she gave her number, but there was no time to think about that as her eyes started closing on their own until she fell profoundly asleep.

The sun was already going down and Caitlyn had already left your place, wishing you good luck and telling you to let her know once you were back safe and sound. After taking a shower, you go to your room and decide what to wear; you weren't sure if you were supposed to dress comfortable or as if you were going out— it was a bar, after all. You remember Violet saying she would close the place so you could study at peace and decide to wear some casual but cute clothes, then grab your bag and turn off all the lights. Once you're out of your apartment, you grab your phone and attempt to send her a text, but she never gave you her number, and you didn't gave her yours. You shrug it off and think that she must surely remember you were going over and call the elevator.

You decide you would walk to the bar instead of calling a cab, it was a beautiful night and you were still going to arrive earlier than expected, hoping the walk would calm your nerves even a little. It was the first time you had to tutor someone, you were used to grading exams and doing other academic work but being in charge of someone's education felt heavier than that, specially when you were asked to do it by Viktor; he was more than a professor to you, you looked up to him and you wanted to be as smart and dedicated as he was. It was clear you didn't want to let him down, that's the only reason you accepted in the first place.

The Last Drop was near now and you could see all the lightning coming out from the inside, strong neon colorful lights illuminating even its surroundings outside, the big shiny sign spelling its name and announcing the beggining of your night with your new student. Sighing heavily, you open the door and let the loud music penetrate your ears, you could smell the scent of cigars and sweat, people sitting in different tables chatting and drinking. You were confused now, this seemed far from being closed and you couldn't see Violet anywhere. Walking over to the bar counter, you can see the barman working hard as he was preparing two drinks simultaneously while receiving more orders from group of girls who were clearly going to keep him busy.

"Excuse me—" you say lifting up your finger in an attempt to get his attention, but he doesn't even flinch. "Excuse me!" you yell a bit louder and he turns around to look at you.

"Hey, what are you having?" he asks now looking at you.

"I'm looking for Violet. She works here, right?"

"Oh, you must be her tutor." he says while smiling, you give him a small nod. "That door back there," you follow his finger pointing to an old wooden door, "go upstairs and knock on your left."

Thanking him, you walk over to the door he pointed and read its sign "Personal Only", feeling a bit odd about crossing a forbidden door, you twist the knob and walk upstairs; it was a small place, you could feel the humidity on your skin and the lightbulb over your head twinkling like begging to be retired, the stairs were squeaking under your steps until you were finally facing the left door the barman had mentioned. You knock on it twice and wait, although a few minutes pass by and no one answers, so you knock three times and yell Violet's name. Still no answer. You hear some steps coming from the stairs and turn your head around.

"No answer?" moving her blue haired braids behind her shoulders, she shoves her hand inside her pockets and takes out a key. You greet her as she opens the door and lets you in first, chuckling for no apparent reason to you and leaves her keys on the table. You leave your bag on the same spot, feeling a bit uncomfortable being at someone else's house, someone you don't know that didn't even open the door for you. Maybe she forgot you were coming. "Vi, wake up!" you heard Jinx yelling.

Peaking to where the yelling came from, you see Violet laying on the couch with one leg spreaded and her feet touching the floor. She shuffles while her sister keeps yelling at her and then opens her eyes, looks at Jinx and then at you. Her eyes open wide and she sits straight on the couch, rubbing her eyes and murmurring, "I fell asleep."

"Yeah, no shit." her sister answers while she opens the fridge and takes out a bottle. "I'll be downstairs, bye." she opens the door and leaves both of you alone.

"Sorry, I wasn't planning on sleeping," she says now looking at you.

"Well, we should begin." you sit down at the table and watch her sitting in front of you. She handles you a glass of water and you softly thank her, taking a sip and feeling your throat was more drier than you noticed, your hands were shaking as you grabbed everything you brought from your bag; some books, your own notes and her failed exam.

"Cait said you're good at this," she says, "so please enlighten me." the smirk she gives you makes you both furious and nervous, you couldn't figure if she was really taking this seriously.

You decide to be the bigger person and ignore all her snarky comments so the lesson could begin. To your surprise, she took in everything you told her and she was a quick learner as well; listening carefully to your explanations and even taking her own notes, asking questions about the book and what she lacked in the exam. You tell her she should focus more on certain chapters and the logical part of the subject because, even though Viktor appreciated debates on his classes, his exams put emphasis on the scientific part and not so much on the student's interpretations.

As you continue the lesson, you start to think Caitlyn was right— Violet was way smarter than you thought.

Both of you decide to take a little break from studying and she brings snacks, putting the books and notes aside, she asks, "So how do you know Cait?"

"We've been friends since highschool, " you answer, "she was running some sort of campaign so each class could vote for a delegate or something. She convinced me to sign and we're inseparable since then." Violet laughs at that and makes you smile.

"Sounds like her." Curiosity got the best out of you and you ask her the same question. "Well, we—" someone opens the door, it was the barman. He starts telling Violet he needed her help with a drunk costumer, saying he was getting violent and couldn't calm him down. "Be right back." she says and leaves with him.

You sit there eating chips and waiting for her to be back, but then half an hour passed and you were feeling like a soldier's wife. Worry grows in the back of your head, what if something happened to her? Violet looked strong but that drunk violent customer could be stronger, and she didn't seem like the type of girl to walk out of a fight.

Unable to deal with your own head, you get off your seat and walk to the door. Just when you were about to twist its knob, the door suddenly slides wide open, startling you. It was Violet, standing in front of you, a bit sweaty but generally unharmed; she was so close to you, the air leaving out of her mouth when she apologized for taking so long felt like a fresh breeze against your face and you couldn't stop starring at her little scar on her upper lip. You wonder how she got that one and if she had any other somewhere on her body.

Before you could shake that thought off, you realised she might have noticed your stare because she licked her lip, just where the scar was, and smirked. Blood rushing to your cheeks, you turn your gaze somewhere else and say, "It's okay, I was just worried..."

"Come." she says and starts walking downstairs. You follow her steps into the bar, still feeling embarrassed, and at the end of the stairs you notice the overwhelming silence compared to the loudness of music when you first arrived. The bar was now closed and empty, just the two of you there. She goes behind the counter and grabs a bottle of whisky, pouring it into two glasses while you walk around to take a better look at the place. Warm lighting was on now that the neon lights were off, beautifully illuminating the decorated walls; pictures with different people on it hanged on them, most had a very muscular and tough looking man smiling with someone— you couldn't recognize anyone, but you could tell they were close to each other and that moment was definitely worth immortalizing on a frame. There were also drawings clearly made by a child, full of colours and love and joy, and you see one with two girls in it; a pink haired one with boxing gloves on her hands, fighting some sort of wolf while the blue haired one was cheering on her, a little toy monkey by her side. It made you smile.

"Powder made them." Violet says behind you, scaring you off a bit. She approaches you and hands you a drink, standing beside you now.

"Is it Jinx or Powder?" you ask sipping a bit of your whisky, you can feel it burning your throat and your nose scrunches making Violet chuckle.

"Powder, but everyone calls her Jinx." she answers, "Stupid nickname."

You hummed and watched her going behind the bar counter again, so you decide to sit in one of those fancy tall seats in front of her. You put your glass down and she refills it then her own.

"What happened to the violent costumer?" you ask.

"Kicked his ass and sent him home." she sips her whisky like it's juice, meanwhile you're already feeling dizzy. Strong liquor shouldn't be near you but you couldn't refuse when she refilled your glass again. You had to admit, her presence was strong; she was someone you couldn't ignore if she walked into a room, it's like her confidence drawn you in, clouding your senses and making you want more. It didn't exactly help that she was hot as hell. Still, you couldn't get out of your head the fact that the night you met her, she had been locked up in the bathroom with your best friend.

Both of you keep drinking and chatting, your curiosity growing stronger as you ask her if she runs this place all on her own, feeling pity when she answers, "Yes, been on it since my dad died."

Doubting a little but feeling the booze cancelling your inhibitions, you ask her, "What happened to him?"

"He got sick, " her expression changes, her jaw clenches and she takes another long sip at her glass, you watch the liquor going down her throat and then she speaks again, "it was a few years ago, Powder was still a child."

"And you?" you could feel your stomach tied up in a knot.

"Someone had to take care of things." she says while looking to the wall filled with pictures and drawings, her face seemed calmed like she was already used to this kind of life but you couldn't stop the sadness. "When he was in bed, he used to do these animal-like groans because of the pain, " surprisingly she smiles at that, "Powder used to say he sounded like a wolf."

You couldn't take it anymore and started sobbing, Violet looked at you surprised and then laughed, which made you feel embarrassed.

"Don't laugh, I'm already drunk." you tell her, rubbing your eyes and looking at her with your eyes furrowed.

She walks out from behind the counter and keeps laughing, standing beside you and helping you off your seat, she says, "Can't take strong booze, cupcake?"

That dumb nickname made your face go on fire, it didn't help that she was grabbing your waist to help you keep your balance and you could smell her scent, a mix of whisky and perfume, the warmth of her body next to yours as she was guiding you upstairs again.

"You'd know that, " you tell her, trying so hard to put one feet in front of the other, "you took a pic of it."

Violet opens the door to her place and helps you inside, she walks you to her bedroom and watches you sitting down on her bed. She leaves you there and you take a look at the room, it was tidy and well organized; her night stand had a frame of Powder, herself and their father. She comes back with a cup of coffee and hands it to you, looking at you expectantly. You take a sip of the coffee and make a face of disgust.

"I don't drink coffee."

"Yeah, I can tell." you answer her, still drinking that disgusting liquid she dares to call coffee. You can feel her gaze burning on you, the concern in her eyes even if she was making fun of you, it made your heart soften.

"Stay here tonight, I'll sleep on the couch." she says and puts her hand on your shoulder.

You inhale heavily, trying to ignore the sensation of her touch, even something as small as a reassuring hand is clouding your senses now. It wasn't just the booze anymore.

"Can't you sleep in your sister's room?" you ask her, trying to put your mind somewhere else.

"That's a rat nest," she chuckles and crunches her nose, "sleeping outside is safer." You hand her the empty cup and lay down, covering your legs with the sheets, her scent was impregnated in the pillow. Violet was still looking at you, her face inexpressive.

"I never gave your sister booze, " you say and she looks at you confused, "the other night, at the party, it wasn't me."

"I know," she closes her eyes and sighs, "that's just Powder testing my patience."

"An apology would be good," you say jokingly and she chuckles.

"You know what?" she smirks and raises one eyebrow, "If your tutoring is that good and I pass my exams, I'll take it down." You laugh and tell her that you shouldn't be punished for her stupidity, so she pretends to be offended and punches you softly. She watches you blinking heavily and stands up, turning the lights off and stopping at the door frame, "Good night, cupcake."

Humming in response, you close your eyes and let sleep take over you, ignoring the vibrations coming from your phone.

TAGS: @pokiiks

[sandwhitches]

request: "can i have an orange and cherry popsicle (hurt/comfort) w suna where he accidentally snaps at reader ??? u can decide how it ends exactly but id like it to be fluffy :3"

𝐁𝐀𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 (𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨)

a/n: u already know i’m going the fluffy route :3 had to repost bc im stupid and forgot tags the first time whoopsies!! also i was like not gonna put a banner on all of these but i don’t think i can physically make a post without one they’re so cute eeughhhh

genre: angst w/ a fluffy ending (hurt/comfort)

warnings: language, gn. reader, teeny argument, mentions of accidentally missing a meal

wc: 779

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

In theory, bad days happen just as much as good days, but every once in a while there is a particularly bad day that will fall onto your lap when you least expect it. That’s what today was for Suna. Particularly bad. 

This morning he’d rolled out of bed thirty minutes late, nothing too out of the ordinary for him, which is why he’s well versed in rushing a shower and scarfing down enough sustenance to last him until the afternoon. Traffic on the way to early morning practice? Been there, done that. Hours worth of conditioning? A little bit annoying, but it's not the first time that’s happened. Losing track of time and forgetting to eat lunch? Kinda sucky. Walking to his car to find a terribly noticeable door ding on the passenger’s side? Really sucky. 

Suna happened to have compiled an impressive list of minor inconveniences to combine with the other stack of shit, and it all adds up to the very worst part, taking it out on you. 

It was just an innocent question on your behalf about the dent in his car, “And you’re gonna have to pay?” You frowned sympathetically, watching in confusion as his expression turned completely to a sour contortion of a scowl, “Obviously, I am, the other car was gone by the time I came out.” He huffed in agitation with a superfluous roll of his eyes to seal the deal. 

You sputtered, brow tensed, “You don’t have to get so defensive.” Rintaro had groaned in response, tilting his chin, “Well what kind of a stupid question is that when I already told you what happened?” His breath caught in his throat with instant regret as you set your jaw tight with frustration, there was no doubt you were holding back a return that would only escalate what’s already been blown out of proportion. You stormed off, leaving Suna with the feeling that he quite possibly might be the biggest idiot in the world. 

As of now, you’ve only had the chance to be alone for a few minutes, taking your anger out by completing your most aggressive attempt at folding laundry to date. Suna knocks on the doorframe of your bedroom to announce his presence, you turn around to find him nervously thumbing at the meat of his palm, a guilty expression. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking up at the shift in your expression to gauge whether or not he was about to have a t-shirt thrown in his face. Who was he kidding? You’re the most understanding person he knows and he was stupid enough to snap at you. Suna thinks, in that moment, that there will never be anything big enough for him to get mad at you for again. Nothing feels worse than being like this, not even waking up late, nor conditioning, nor missing lunch, and especially not getting door dinged. 

“I just-...” he blows out a breath that makes his cheeks puff up while he sorts through countless words, trying to find the right ones to fix things, “I had a really bad day, and I’m sorry it made me snap at you…I'm an idiot.”  

“…You kinda are, huh?” Suna looks up to find that the echo of a grin has replaced the deep frown you had before, making the knot in his chest begin to loosen gradually. Rintaro huffs out a quiet laugh, “Yeah…” 

For a moment, you thought there might still be something else in his mind with the way his eyes dropped, head swimming in thoughts. The question sitting on your lips was quickly replaced by a yelp as Suna steps forward, wrapping you in his big arms and collapsing onto the bed.

“I love you, you know that?” He declares loudly, taking every playful kick you really don’t mean as you giggle uncontrollably, “Get off of me, Rin!” 

Suna snickers, kissing the crown of your head, “I can’t let go of you! Not until I make things right!” Your stomach already hurts from laughing as you writhe against him, feeling the lovely placements of tender kisses peppered across your face. 

“Let go before I put another dent in your car!” You shout, earning a bout of laughter from your boyfriend, “Low blow! I’m still recovering!” Suna knows that today was supposed to be bad, and for the most part it really was. But right now he has you pressed up against him like this, he can feel the rise and fall of laughter in your ribs, he smells the powdery scent of your shampoo, and presses his face into yours as close as physically possible. Yeah, he thinks, bad days don’t really exist if they all end like this.