#I love how there's no whole conversation of trying to convince the other it's just like

[salamispots]

watching nope again and I love how after oj tells his sister what he saw the next shot is immediately them going to get cameras

[cheapshrimpysheep]

What if They were Dads?

SUMMARY: Headcanons of what I think they would be like as fathers to your child. And what if his dormmates were like honorary uncles to the child?

CHARACTERS: OB Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia)

TAGS: Headcanon; Fem!Reader (AFAB) (I never really know what tags to use but I hope you know what I mean)

WORD COUNT: An average of 690 words per character.

COMMENTS: I would have liked to have made a headcanon about the relationship with the boys' parents and siblings, but since we don't know them that well or at all on the Eng Server like Vil's father, I think I'll leave that for a possible post that complements this one. If you want.

Since I didn't want each character to have a big chunk of text, I put them as paragraphs instead of bullet points.

I hope you enjoy 🩵

CONTEXT: This was written with a cisgender female reader in mind. Reader is Yuu. But if you want (and can) read it in any other way, feel free to.

By the way, this is one of those moments when I wish English had a second person plural, instead of the singular and plural being the same. Whenever I write “your child” I mean it in the plural (you, the reader, and his)

Riddle’s child(ren) call him: Father

Riddle has the same demands and standards for his child that he has for himself. But he doesn't want to make the same mistakes as his mother, so in comparison he can be more permissive. Because of this he will ALWAYS listen to you if you tell him he is being too harsh.

In terms of studies, etiquette and behaviour he is quite strict as you would expect. But when it comes to play he lets his child do almost anything they want.

He doesn't know how to play with his child, but he will always make an effort to learn how to and do it with them. He almost seems to regress to the childhood he never had and wants to give to his child. Whenever the child learns a new game, they will show it and teach it to Riddle and he will be delighted with it.

Although he is strict, he is also relatively protective, especially if your child is a girl. He tries not to be overly protective, but he can't help but worry about your child. If there was a right way to raise a child, is he doing his job well enough? You will have several conversations at first to reassure him that he is doing a good job.

He will study any and all parenting books that experts in child behaviour and education recommend. This kind of knowledge is never too much. Which often leads you to try to convince him to relax and just trust his instincts and what he feels is right. The child is his, not all those authors and experts. Sometimes there are things that a parent simply knows.

Lawful and calm Uncle Trey. They love uncle Trey's sweets! Sometimes Riddle asks him if he's not giving them too much sweets and Trey always assures him that it's okay because he knows how to make healthier sweets and the limit for a child to eat. If they weren't already Riddle's child, the whole thing about always brushing their teeth could be scary.

Chaotic Uncle Che'nya. The crazy and fun Uncle! Your child and Che'nya join forces (maybe even with you) to play pranks on Riddle. Never anything that could get the child into trouble with their father, just enough for everyone, Riddle included, to have fun.

Uncle Ace and Uncle Deuce are more from your side than Riddle's honestly. Ace is a bit like Che'nya in the case of being one of the chaotic pranksters uncles. But he is also the uncle of magic tricks who is always deceiving, but also entertaining your child with them.

Deuce is the rad uncle with a cool moto and/or even cooler blastcycle, who offers to take your child for a ride in it with him. Your child also finds it funny to see the two of them arguing amicably. But it’s even funnier to see them imitating their father trying to order them to stop arguing.

Uncle Cater doesn't show up very often, but they like him. He's not chaotic like Ace and Che'nya, but he's also fun. Your child enjoys receiving compliments from him and taking pictures with him.

Your child imitates their father scolding Grim too. Just like Riddle (and probably because they're still little) they have a very bad temper. Riddle gets embarrassed whenever you say that someone takes after their father.

Leona’s child(ren) call him: Dad

Leona still doesn't like kids... your child(ren) is/are just an exception.

Yes, Leona would treat a daughter slightly differently than he would treat a son. In the same way that he treats men and women a little differently. But the only difference is that he would be tougher on a son than a daughter, but will still be affectionate regardless.

No matter what gender his child is, he wants the same for them: be strong both physically and mentally. To outsiders like some servants or citizens who don't know him, they may get to the point of thinking Leona is a harsh father who doesn't deserve all that love from his child, and he will tell both you and your child not to mind that. But the truth is that he is just like he was with you at school: a tough guy who hides a caring heart.

Leona continues to show himself to be a person who doesn't want anyone to upset him and who would growl at anyone who bothers him. The only people who can get close to him even when he's angry and remain safe and sound are you and your child. He'll still growl at you and your child quietly, but there will be a volume that is the line, like if his growl is louder than that limit it's because he's getting really angry, until then it's just him being him.

Your child will already have the best private teachers and tutors (one of them being Kifaji/Neji if he’s still alive), but even so, Leona will want to make them study and learn more. But in that discreet way that he knows. He will not force them to study more, he will find a way to convince them to want to learn more on their own.

You end up being the most affectionate parent and the one they trust for emotional comfort. Leona is the tough love, you are the soft love (at least in comparison). Leona will always tease you, insinuating that you are too soft and only spoil your child. Although he enjoys when you spoil him too.

He is 100% the ‘Go ask your mom’ kind of dad.

He lets his child take naps with him. And you too.

If he has more than one child, he will police himself not to favor any of them. He may have a tendency to favor the younger ones because of what he went through as the youngest himself, but none of his children will be treated in any special/different way based on their birth order. Neither the youngest nor the oldest.

He will try to convince his child not to be too close (emotionally) to their uncle or cousin, but won't stop them from playing with Cheka. When your child is old enough not to tell others what is said in your home, Leona and them will talk badly about Falena and Cheka behind their backs.

Leona will prefer your child to play with Ruggie and/or his children. On the one hand, he wants to keep them away from his family, but on the other hand, he also wants his child to know what the real world is like, to see both wealth and poverty, to know royalty as they knows their people and only then create their own judgement.

They don't call anyone uncle or aunt other than Falena and his wife. In the same way, Leona also doesn't give cute titles to anyone without being sarcastically. Even when he calls you “love”, “darling”, “honey” or something like that, it's to tease you.

Whenever you go to Shaftlands, whether for democratic reasons or on holiday, you always try to find a way to meet with Jack. Leona pretends that he only helps you with this because you want to see your friend and he wants to get rid of his family. Both you and Jack know that he just doesn't want to admit that he wants to see him too. Jack is the cool parent's friend who taught your child how to snowboard. While they are little they like to hug his tail because it’s fluffy.

Despite everything, he doesn't want his child to have the same lack of hope that he has, and despite trying to hide it, he always feels extremely guilty and bad whenever your child says something like that. At these times he relies on you to be the ray hope in that house, they will both need you for that.

Both Leona and your child are afraid of you when you get really serious or angry.

Do you know that scene from The Lion King where Mufasa uses Zazu to give Simba an pouncing lesson? Leona often does something similar, but instead of the target being a blue bird, it's a magical creature called Grim.

Azul’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Azul is an extremely emotional father, despite trying to hide it. There's going to be a lot of moments like: “HE/SHE IS THE CUTEST LITTLE THING IN THE WHOLE- *clears throat* I mean, he/she is such a charming little child.” He will most likely cry at your baby's first words, steps, anything.

Azul is overprotective! If any living creature even thinks about harming your child, he will tortu- that is, find a completely legal way to ensure that it never happens again. Now, if you'll excuse him, he suddenly felt like talking to Jade and Floyd. (The same protectiveness applies to you.)

Although he is very (secretly) emotional and loves to spoil his child, he is also relatively strict about their studies. He likes to spoil them (and you) when it's deserved, but he will not raise a spoiled child! This ends up balancing things out a bit.

He will hide the whole mafia-like part of his life from his child. Dad is just doing business, boring adult stuff. Maybe when your child is older he will start to reveal a little of that side of his life, if they later want to join their father it will be their choice. But until then, let them be innocent children, they are cuter and happier that way, there is time for everything.

He will always hold back his emotional side so as not to be overly affectionate. Unless his child starts crying. At that point his mask falls completely and he becomes the most affectionate and comforting father there can be, that is his weakness.

And if one day the child realizes this and starts using crying to get what they want from him, he won't know whether to be angry that he is being emotionally manipulated by his own child, or proud that they learned so quickly.

You will be the only one immune to the fake crying.

From the beginning, Azul has been wary and suspicious of letting Jade and Floyd be like uncles to your child. However, you two ended up letting this happen, but Azul will always keep an eye open.

Both Jade and Floyd will definitely use the child to play pranks on Azul. Mostly Floyd, Jade prefers to watch and assist. Azul will always be upset with the twins, never with his child. And depending on the severity of the prank, he will turn on his overprotective side and threaten Jade and Floyd that if that happens again they will never see your child again. They never go beyond that limit.

Every now and then when Floyd plays with your child, he will do that joke where he playfully tells them he's going to catch them and bite them. Actually in his playful voice, he doesn't want to scare them. And they will run to Azul and hide behind his legs asking for help while laughing. Or tentacles if they are in their merfolk form.

You know those little plastic cashiers where kids pretend to have a little shop and try to sell things to people at home? Usually parents or sibling. Azul loves to play this with his child because it is a great and fun way to pass on his knowledge. Both about sales and about taking care of your money. Usually using the Grim as a guinea pig. Grim also likes to play because he always ends up with food in exchange for toy money.

If you ask them Jade is the scary uncle (only sometimes) but they themselves don't even know why. It's just his vibe or something. However, they are not afraid to ask any of them for something, it being to play or for help.

Jamil’s child(ren) call him: Dad (in informal moments) and Father (at formal events)

Jamil needed to learn to express himself more and better emotionally so as not to end up being a cold father without meaning to. He needs your help to teach your child when to hold back and when to know when they are in a safe space to let go.

The only thing that will follow Jamil forever is an inevitable feeling of guilt for your child having the same fate as him, simply for being his child: serving the Al-Asim family with no other choice. But you can be assured that if there is a way to stop this and give his child freedom of choice, whatever that method may be, he will not give up until he finds it and do it! Normally parents want to give their children what they always wanted and could never have, in Jamil's case it’s freedom.

There was something Jamil wanted to do, but he didn't have the courage to ask the Al-Asim for some kind of vacation. But you had! Using your great friendship with Kalim, you managed to get him to allow you to take a vacation long enough for you to travel as a family, as Jmail wanted. Jamil has always wanted to travel alone, but now with you and your child he would like to travel as a family and give his child the experiences he would have liked to have had himself.

He is quite demanding with his child's education and training. However, his attitude towards this is always calm and collected, and he is attentive to his child's limitations and needs. He is a great and responsible tutor, who knows how to distinguish between being a teacher and being a father.

He is usually quite serious, so you and your child are the ones who start messing with him to have fun and make him laugh. It's always nice when he reminds you two that he can also be a tease. Normal or biggest target of your joint teasing ends up being Grim at some point.

During his work as Kalim's servant, Jamil always had to cook a lot and he's not that big a fan of cooking, so so he can rest at home you're the one who cooks most of the time. He will teach you everything you want to learn and at first you will cook together a lot until you feel comfortable cooking alone. But even then he will continue to offer to help you. Your child will continue to say that Jamil's food is tastier, but yours is prettier. And the food you make together is the best because it’s tasty and pretty. Jamil will also encourage his child to cook with you two so that they can learn from a young age.

His child knows that there is only one thing in this world that can make their father scream in fear: Bugs! If your child is also afraid of insects, you're screwed, because you will be the insect killer in that house. However, if it is just the two of them, Jamil's protective instinct will be stronger and despite his fear he will protect his child. If your child is not afraid of insects, then Jamil will have two protectors. “Can you do dad a favor?”; “Where is it?”; “Living room, south wall last time I saw.”; “Does it fly?”; “...Yes.”

Kalim will treat your child almost like one of his own children, for loving you both so much. He got emotional when he found out you were pregnant, he wanted to help pay for your doctor's appointments if necessary (never was), and he got emotional again when your child was born. He loves buying toys for your child too and give them gifts. He would love for Jamil to let them call him Uncle Kalim. And he loves it when your kids play together.

Vil’s child(ren) call him: Father 

Vil wants to have a family that is at its best as he likes to be at his best himself. He wants you and your child to be as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside, just as he strives to be as well. However, he would treat a daughter slightly differently than a son because of the different pressures of societal beauty standards.

With a son he would be as strict with him as he is with himself. But with a daughter, he knows she's more likely to suffer from these kinds of things. So although he continues to be relatively strict and wants her to be the best she can be, he ends up being softer with criticism and stronger with praise and soft love than he would be with a son.

He would hire a specialist, like as a child psychologist or something like that, to always know the best ways to rise and protect your child. Children of famous people like him, especially in the digital and social media age, may need more protection from their parents in this regard, in addition to the toxic pressure of comparison that exists. However, because Vil cares so much about your child's personal development as their happiness, he may end up putting enormous pressure on himself to be a perfect parent too.

Both Vil and your child will need you to be the person who brings them both back to the real world and the life of a loving family with flaws like any human being. Vil will always listen to you if you feel he may be being too harsh and demanding with your child, or with himself in terms of parenting.

If you are the type of person who likes to tease Vil by letting yourself be sloppy from time to time, (always at home) then your child will also like to tease their father like that. “You have your mother’s cheekiness, I see.” Vil sighs but laughs. The teasing includes eating sweets and food that Vil would not approve of. You are the parent they ask for things from and who best comforts and pampers them. You two probably team up to make Vil relax and have fun with you.

His child will have the best teachers and tutors, go to the best schools and best establishments for any extracurricular activity they want to have. Vil will probably force them to have an extracurricular activity but they will be free to choose which one.

Rook is OBSESSED with your child! In a respectful way of course, he is just already a huge fan. The result of combining your DNA with Vil's? MERVEILLEUX! He won't hold back the tears when he sees the baby for the first time. He will LOVE playing with your child. He will babysit for free and will be happy to do so if you ever need. It will be a long time before he stops getting so emotional whenever your child calls him "Uncle Rook."

Uncle Epel is the rad uncle, when Vil is not around. He is that person who will help your child do cool activities that Vil may not allow. Like taking a blastcycle ride with him, eat grilled meats, playing with things that make the child very dirty or other things that Vil didn't like Epel to do when they were at NRC. But if at least one parent allows it (you), then there is no problem. Right? All this, of course, when Vil is not around.

When he is there, both Epel and your child behave like little angels. You and Epel have to be very careful that the child doesn't get careless and say something in Epel's dialect in front of Vil. They love Uncle Epel because it is fun to do cool things without their father knowing and with your help.

Your child likes to use Grim as a doll to dress up in cute clothes. The funny thing is that Grim likes it too because your child eventually realizes that if they tell him he looks cool instead of cute, he'll let them keep dressing him up.

Idia’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older)

Idia doesn't believe he can be a good father. A shut-it and antisocial otaku like him? Are you crazy? That's a disaster! He can't take care of himself, how is he going to help you raise a child? However, and especially with you, he also has that overly cocky side that believes that even being an antisocial nerd he would be 1000 times better than a lot of parents out there. So basically he has a tendency to oscillate between these two moods.

In comparison, you are the strict parent, he is the parent who spoils the child. They are both afraid of you when you get upset. He's a ‘Don't tell your mother’ type of dad. He can't say no to his child, but, oddly enough, he can't be emotionally manipulated either. He may even let his child do a lot of things, but even he has limits to what he knows is good or bad for them.

Because he's the permissive father, he's also the scariest when he gets serious. He can never get really mad at his child, but he can say a firm and assertive “No” if necessary. However, if they are still very young and start crying, he will panic and call you immediately. You will then have to comfort Idia and tell him that no, he did not make a decision that put him on the path to the traumatic and apocalyptic ending. What he probably did was the opposite.

If it depends on him, his child will be a nerd/otaku just like his father. However, he doesn't want them to be socially anxious like him and will always encourage them to go for walks with you outside even if it's without him. That doesn't mean there aren't times you drag him outside with you.

Besides occasionally questioning whether he is being a good father, there is something else that haunts him... He still carries and will probably always carry the feeling of guilt for what happened to Ortho, so he is absolutely TERRIFIED that something like that may happen again.

Idia has always tried to keep your child as far away as possible from all areas that are dangerous or even remotely similar to the hallway where that happened. But if your child ever happens to even enter an area that their father did not allow, they will get to know a side of Idia that sometimes you yourself don’t even remember exists: The overprotective, traumatized side that isn't afraid to scare his child if it means keeping them away from the danger. And probably the only way they'll see his red hair. But it will probably be after that, that the two of you will have an open heart conversation and Idia will apologize.

Now, about Uncle Ortho, they LOVE uncle Ortho! He's the one who goes for a walk with you and your child when you and he can't convince Idia to go too. He is a cheerful uncle who loves to play with your child. You three made up stories to explain why uncle Ortho was a humanoid. You always make up different and crazy stories to jest with them and make them change the subject. The day will come when they will be old enough to know the truth.

Idia may even talk badly about himself a lot of the times, but no matter what his child do, they are talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular and everything good. “Of course that's because they inherited it from you, not me.” He will say with a smile.

Both Idia and your child treat Grim like a pet cat and find it funny to see him getting grumpy.

Idia spoke to his child in that baby voice when they themselves were also babies. And maybe also when they are children to the point where they tell him to stop treating them like babies.

Malleus’s child(ren) call him: Daddy (when little) Dad (when older) Father (at formal events)

The day Malleus found out you were pregnant was already a happy day, but the day your child was born was the happiest day of his life! And every moment with them is the happiest moment of his day. And of course with you too. He totally and completely loves his family!

Anyone who dares to speak ill of the child of Malleus Draconia, especially about the fact that they are half-human, will suffer the consequences! Anyone who spoke openly about the child being something of a disgrace, shame or an abomination was either killed or imprisoned. (Depending on how opposed you really are to Malleus killing or ordering someone to be killed.) and of course, the same applies to talking bad about you.

The problem is that this is doing the same thing to your child that was done to him. He's scaring everyone and making them afraid to come near your child for fear of saying or doing something that might upset them or Malleus. He listens to you and agrees with you, showing concern and thoughtfulness about what should be done. He hates people being disrespectful to the ones he loves, but he also doesn't want his child to go through what he went through.

What ends up happening is that, on Malleus's part, he realizes that he has to start learning ways for people to respect his child without using fear, but to do that he also has to start letting certain insults slide. He doesn't like it, but if it's what's best for his child, he'll do the best he can. Although the same applies if they disrespect you. He hates it so much!

In the case of your child, you are helped by Lilia (if he’s still alive), Silver, Sebek and their families. Perhaps trying to spend more time among their people and with other fae, humans, and half-fae might be beneficial to a child's social development.

Lilia would treat the child as if they were his own grandchild. Even if Silver also has children, they are ALL Lilia's grandchildren! “There's no denying it any longer... I am... officially... an old man... For the best possible reasons!” Everyone will rescue your child from Lilia's food. “Never eat anything that Grandpa Lilia cooks, you hear?”

Silver is the calm uncle who, despite not being the most fun to play with, is the one they turn to when they want to rest and simply have a good chill time. Or take a nap. Probably who they turn to to run away and hide from Sebek when he's being annoying. He ends up being the adult (than is not their parents) that they trust most and feel most comfortable with. Silver is very happy when they ask him for help to get closer to an animal to see it better, and even more so if they and the animals end up interacting and playing with each other.

Now about Uncle Sebek... If there is anyone more protective and flattering of that child than Malleus, it is Sebek. He cried when the child was born, for sure. And cried even more when the child said his name, or whenever they at least tried to. The day they called him "Uncle Sebek" he was about to have a heart attack. The problem is that he ends up being one of those type of person who adores children (although in his case the only ones he likes would be Malleus's and his own children) to the point that the child finds them annoying and clingy. “But don't tell Uncle Sebek that, he'll be sad.”

Whenever the child throws a tantrum that ends up causing their powers to manifest in storms or uncontrolled magic, Malleus will take care of it while you stay away and safe. To him, any attack would be mere tickling, but he always made sure that your child knows that the same does not apply to you. They may end up thinking that you are very fragile while they are little, but it is better this way to ensure that they do not hurt you unintentionally.

This also means that whenever you need to say ‘No’ to your child, Malleus will do it if there is a possibility that they would start throwing tantrums. At least while they are young and cannot control their powers well.

Malleus also runs the risk of being a father who spoils his children.

Your child and Grim probably burn a lot of things around the castle because they play together and they both have fire powers.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

And if you would like to read this but with other characters you can write in the comments. If this post has a lot of notes (likes and reblogs) I might consider making a second part with other characters.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | the daughter of a rival team principal

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : the daughter of a team prinicipal finds love in another team ୨ৎ : requested : yes

୨ৎ : genre : romance ୨ৎ : tws : father-daughter arguing ୨ৎ : word count : 4799 (~685 words each)

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun to write i love it (charles was a personal favorite >.<)

ʚ・max verstappen

you’ve always known what was expected of you. as the daughter of mercedes f1’s team principal, your life has been one of luxury, pressure, and constant public scrutiny. your father’s legacy has always loomed large over you, and you’ve been trained your whole life to uphold it. but tonight, at a charity event during the off-season, something shifts.

you never expected to meet him. max verstappen—red bull’s star driver, known for his dry humor and sharp wit—has always been in the rival camp. you’ve heard about him, but when you finally talk to him, it’s different. his banter is sharp, but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart race. it’s not the usual flirtation you’ve experienced with other drivers; it’s deeper, more genuine.

a conversation turns into a quiet moment away from the crowd, and before you know it, you’re both caught in an unspoken connection. you try to convince yourself it’s just the heat of the moment, but the chemistry between you two is undeniable. as the night ends, the weight of your family’s rivalry presses on you. you can’t be with him. not him. not a red bull driver.

but the connection is too strong. as the weeks go by, you find yourself texting max in secret, sneaking around after races, and spending stolen hours together. you’re falling for him, and it terrifies you. you’re not just risking your own heart; you’re risking your family, your reputation, and the wrath of the media. but when max looks at you with those eyes—full of intensity and something more—you can’t stop yourself.

the pressure builds with every passing day. your family expects you to uphold mercedes’ honor, and you know your father would never approve. meanwhile, max—who’s used to constant scrutiny—becomes frustrated. he’s tired of hiding, tired of sneaking around, and you start to feel the weight of it all. the secrecy is suffocating, but you’re scared of what will happen if the world finds out.

then, during a crucial race weekend, everything explodes. mercedes and red bull are neck-and-neck, both fighting for the title. after the race, max wins, and mercedes is left picking up the pieces. that night, you and max decide it’s enough. you’re done hiding.

you sit across from your father and max’s team principal, the air thick with tension. your father’s face is a mixture of shock and fury as he demands to know why you would choose max. “he’s from red bull,” he says, as if that’s enough of a reason for you to walk away. max’s principal isn’t much better, questioning how this relationship could possibly work.

but max speaks up. “i’m not just a driver,” he says, his voice calm but unwavering. “i’m with her because i love her. i’m not hiding anymore.”

the room falls into a heavy silence. your father’s eyes narrow, a flicker of frustration crossing his features, but as he looks at you—really looks at you—he sees something he can’t ignore. the sincerity in your eyes, the depth of your feelings for max, is undeniable. this isn’t a passing phase or a rebellious act. it’s real.

“you really love my daughter?” your father’s voice is no longer harsh, but laced with something else—caution, perhaps even a hint of understanding.

max doesn’t hesitate. “i do. i love your daughter.”

your father exhales sharply, the weight of his words lingering in the air. “if you ever break her heart, i swear to god, i’ll make sure your engine never sees the finish line again.”

max, looking both relieved and earnest, nods. “i would never, sir. i’d never hurt her.”

over time, both families begin to soften. the media circus doesn’t go away, but the tension between your families does. slowly, the world starts to accept what you already knew: love doesn’t care about the rivalry between teams. it doesn’t care about the rules.

max wins another race. this time, you’re there, not hiding, not pretending. the cameras flash around you, and you stand by his side, proud. he looks at you with that same intensity, but now, it’s not a secret. your love is out in the open, stronger than ever.

and as you walk off the podium together, hand in hand, you realize that no matter what the future holds, you’ve already won. together.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you’ve always been part of the f1 world, living in the shadow of your father, the red bull team principal. but one night, everything changes when you're forced to attend a press conference with him. you’re trying to stay out of the spotlight, your eyes gliding over the room, until they land on him: lewis hamilton. despite the rivalry between red bull and mercedes, something shifts when your gazes meet—an undeniable connection, one that neither of you can ignore.

after the press conference ends, lewis, ever the charmer, approaches you with that trademark grin. “so, you're the red bull princess, huh?” he says, his voice playful, though there's something deeper in his eyes. you nod, taken aback by the intensity of the moment.

"you don’t look like the type to be stuck behind a desk," he adds with a smirk, his tone light but his gaze searching yours.

you laugh, trying to hide how your heart skips a beat. "guess i’m not."

the next few weeks are a blur of stolen glances and quiet exchanges. with every conversation, every private moment, you both feel the connection deepening, though the tension between your families grows. your father’s rivalry with mercedes runs deep, and the last thing you need is for the media to catch wind of anything. but as the whispers start, you can’t fight the pull between you and lewis any longer.

the secrecy wears on you both. the constant sneaking around, meeting in hidden corners, avoiding the constant press. it’s like living a double life, and eventually, it becomes too much. you feel suffocated by the pressure of hiding your love, and lewis, frustrated and restless, isn’t happy either.

then comes a pivotal race. both red bull and mercedes are facing setbacks, and the competition is fierce. the tension is at an all-time high. after the race, the world is still buzzing with the results, but you can't think about anything else. you need to see him.

as the race concludes, you rush through the paddock, your heart racing. cameras flash all around you, but you don’t care. you spot him—lewis, standing in the pit, grinning like he just won the world. without thinking, you run straight to him. the noise of the world fades as you leap into his arms, and he catches you effortlessly, spinning you around in a burst of joy. it’s a moment of pure freedom—a declaration that you’re done hiding.

the cameras capture everything: your arms around him, your laughter echoing through the chaos. the media goes wild. your father, watching the broadcast from his office, doesn’t know whether to laugh or shout. he stares at the screen, eyes widening in disbelief as you and lewis embrace on live tv.

"what the hell…?" he mutters under his breath. his fists clench, watching his daughter—his little girl—defy everything he’s worked for, the legacy of red bull and its rivalry with mercedes. for a moment, he’s stunned, unsure of what to think.

later, when you sit down with him, you brace for the confrontation. but instead of anger, he looks at you with a quiet understanding in his eyes. “you’re my little girl,” he starts, voice softer than you expect. “i’ve spent my life trying to protect you, to keep you away from this madness. but if this is who you love… then i’ll support you. even if it’s from a rival team.”

you feel the weight of his words settle in your chest. the rivalry still exists, but in that moment, you realize that family comes first. your father’s approval means more than anything, and his acceptance gives you the freedom to live your truth.

ʚ・george russell

it’s a late afternoon at the track, the sun casting long shadows over the paddock as the roar of engines fills the air. you’re standing near your father, the principal of red bull racing, watching the teams prepare for another race. it’s business as usual—except, today, something feels different.

as you glance around, your eyes land on him: george russell. mercedes’ promising young driver, always composed and focused. but today, it’s not the usual competitive edge you notice. instead, you spot a technical issue on his car, a minor glitch in the system that could cost him on track. without thinking, you stride forward, your pulse quickening with a mix of adrenaline and nerves.

“george,” you call, your voice cutting through the air.

he looks up, surprised to see you, but a flicker of recognition crosses his face. “y/n,” he says with a slight grin. “what’s going on?”

you point to his car. “there’s an issue with the engine cooling system. you need to recalibrate the sensors, or it’s going to overheat during the race.”

george raises an eyebrow. “and what would you know about that?”

you shrug, a playful smile on your lips. “i come with my dad to work almost everyday, i'd like to think i’ve picked up a few things.”

he laughs softly, shaking his head. “i guess i’ll trust you then. but i’m not sure if i should be worried about red bull’s tech advice.”

“don’t worry,” you reply, “i won’t sabotage you… too much.”

the banter flows easily between you, and there’s an undeniable chemistry that neither of you can ignore. but as you walk away, your mind starts to race. you’re intrigued by him—his dry wit, his easy smile—but you know better than to get too close. your father’s rivalry with mercedes runs deep, and you’ve been raised to see them as the enemy, not a potential partner.

over the next few weeks, you and george find yourselves crossing paths more often. each meeting is brief, a stolen moment outside the paddock or in the midst of chaos during a race weekend. you talk about cars, racing strategies, and even your shared interests beyond the track. there’s an easy connection, a bond that grows deeper with every conversation.

the secrecy of your meetings becomes a burden. you’re both constantly looking over your shoulders, afraid of getting caught. the fear of your families finding out and the potential consequences of your secret relationship weigh on you. yet, with every stolen kiss and quiet exchange, your feelings for george only grow stronger. the risk of it all feels worth it when he’s around.

however, the stress of hiding the relationship begins to strain you both. george’s success on the track only adds pressure. every victory for him is a reminder of the ever-present distance between you two. your father’s disapproval weighs heavily on your conscience, and it’s starting to affect your work.

during a pivotal race, both teams face challenges—red bull’s strategy falters, and mercedes struggles with tire issues. you and george exchange secret messages, working together to help each other’s teams without crossing the line.

as both teams fight to salvage their positions, your collaboration becomes more than technical support—it’s a defiant stand against the rivalry. the race ends with both teams barely staying afloat, but you and george share a quiet triumph, knowing you made a difference.

the media catches on, and the truth comes to light. both families are shocked, but as they see the depth of your love, your father’s anger softens. slowly, the walls between red bull and mercedes begin to crumble.

you and george publicly announce your relationship, standing together before the media, no longer hiding. the rivalry may still exist, but your love has bridged the gap, and together, you step into a new chapter where love, not competition, drives you forward.

later, your father calls you and george into his office, a wry smile on his face. after a moment of silence, he looks at you both, then shrugs. “i suppose if you’re really in love, i can’t stop you. just know… i can’t promise i won’t use my daughter to sabotage mercedes from time to time.”

you and george laugh, and your father chuckles, his eyes softening. "but seriously," he adds, "i trust you both. just don’t make me regret it."

with that, the tension breaks, and for the first time, the future of both families feels a little brighter.

ʚ・carlos sainz

the press room was buzzing with the usual chatter—drivers answering questions, team principals looking sharp, and the sound of cameras clicking at every moment. you were there as part of your father’s entourage, the daughter of mclaren’s team principal. you’d been to countless media events, but today, something felt different.

the crowd parted as a familiar face made his way through: carlos sainz, ferrari’s star driver. his warm smile met yours from across the room. you’d seen him race plenty of times, but there was something about his presence that stood out today—something that made your heart beat a little faster.

you’d heard stories of how intense the rivalry between mclaren and ferrari was. it was ingrained in you from a young age, something your father had hammered into your head. he was fierce about his loyalty to mclaren, and he expected nothing less from you. but despite that, the moment your eyes met carlos’s, you felt an undeniable pull.

he smiled at you, as if recognizing that spark too, and before long, the two of you found yourselves chatting during a brief lull in the press event. he was charming, his wit sharp, and his dry humor caught you off guard. you laughed more easily than you expected, feeling the weight of your father’s expectations and the animosity between your teams fade away in the warmth of his presence.

“you know,” carlos said with a grin, “i’ve always thought mclaren had some of the best engineers. too bad we’re always on opposite sides of the fight.”

you smirked. “guess it’s more fun that way, isn’t it? keeps things interesting.”

the chemistry between you was immediate, and in that brief conversation, you realized you wanted more. but you couldn’t—could you? your father would never approve. ferrari and mclaren had been bitter rivals for as long as anyone could remember. still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something real between you and carlos.

over the next few races, you both found ways to keep in touch, meeting up in secret whenever possible. the stolen moments became your escape, a brief reprieve from the weight of being the daughter of mclaren’s team principal and the strain of hiding your growing feelings for a ferrari driver. every touch, every glance was like a silent promise, and with each passing day, it became harder to keep things a secret.

but the pressure was mounting. the media was getting more curious about the subtle tension between you and carlos. you had to be careful. every word, every action had to be carefully measured.

then came the race that changed everything. the tension between mclaren and ferrari reached its peak. your team was struggling—strategy issues, tire troubles, nothing was going according to plan. and then there was carlos, pulling off a brilliant move and clinching the victory for ferrari. the crowd roared, but for you, the noise faded into the background. all you could focus on was the moment he crossed the finish line, knowing you couldn’t stay hidden anymore.

you rushed through the chaos, your heart pounding in your chest. the cameras were everywhere, but you didn’t care. you didn’t think. you just ran. when you reached him, you didn’t hesitate. you jumped into his arms, and in one swift motion, he spun you around, laughing in joy.

the world saw it all. it was a moment of defiance—no longer hiding your love for him, despite everything you’d been taught about team loyalty and rivalry. the media exploded, cameras flashing as they captured the intimate moment. the tension between mclaren and ferrari had never felt more real, and yet, in that moment, it didn’t matter. you were with carlos, and that was all that mattered.

back at the paddock, you could feel your father’s eyes on you from the distance. he hadn’t yet approached, but you knew the storm was coming. when he finally did, his expression was unreadable, his jaw clenched in frustration.

“what the hell is this?” he demanded, his voice low but sharp.

you took a deep breath, walking toward him. “dad, i… i’m in love with him.”

for a moment, the silence stretched between you. then, your father’s gaze softened, just a little. he let out a long sigh, glancing back at carlos, who was now waiting a few feet away, watching the exchange with uncertainty.

“you really love him?” your father asked, his voice unsteady for the first time.

you nodded, meeting his eyes. “i do. it’s not a fling, dad. i promise you.”

he stood there for a long moment, his gaze flicking back and forth between you and carlos. then, in a move that surprised you, he chuckled—a little bitterly, but still, a chuckle.

“well, if you’re serious about this, i guess i can’t stop you,” he said, the tension in his shoulders easing. “but don’t expect me to go easy on ferrari next season.”

you laughed, relief flooding through you. “deal.”

and just like that, the walls that had once seemed insurmountable between your world and carlos’s began to crumble. the rivalry between mclaren and ferrari wouldn’t disappear overnight, but maybe—just maybe—the future of racing didn’t have to be defined by the battles between teams.

as you stood there, hand in hand with carlos, you realized that love had bridged the gap. you weren’t just the daughter of mclaren’s team principal anymore. you were someone who had found something real, despite all the odds. and that was enough.

the road ahead would be challenging, but with carlos by your side, you were ready to face it all—together.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you’d spent your entire life draped in mclaren orange, fiercely loyal to your father’s team. everyone at the paddock knew you—not as just the team principal’s kid but as a sharp-tongued, quick-witted presence who had zero tolerance for nonsense. so, when charles leclerc, ferrari’s golden boy, casually strolled over during a media event and commented on your bold mclaren jacket, you didn’t miss a beat.

“bold choice for you to critique fashion,” you said, raising a brow. “didn’t you wear that same ferrari polo yesterday? or is it just your uniform now?”

charles blinked before breaking into a grin. “it’s called consistency, chérie. something mclaren might want to try with their cars.”

your jaw dropped, but his cheeky smirk made it impossible to stay annoyed. instead, you laughed. “touché, leclerc. but let’s see how consistent you are on track this weekend.”

it started with playful banter, but the more you ran into charles during race weekends, the more intrigued you became. beneath his smooth charm and the ferrari-red facade was a kind, passionate guy with dreams that matched yours. the chemistry was undeniable, and soon, stolen moments between press conferences turned into late-night conversations over text, and quiet dinners away from the spotlight.

every meeting felt like rebellion—not just against your father’s expectations but against the entire cutthroat nature of the sport. you’d grown up in this world of rivalries, but with charles, you started to see it differently. the sport didn’t have to divide people; it could bring them together.

still, you knew what you were risking. your father had built his career on the rivalry with ferrari, and your mother… well, she’d always been the level-headed one in the family.

the turning point came after a thrilling race in monaco. charles took p1 in a breathtaking finish, and as he climbed out of his car, the crowd roared. you stood at the edge of the podium celebrations, your heart racing—not for mclaren, but for him.

as he spotted you in the crowd, you didn’t care who was watching. you pushed past the cameras and ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him in front of everyone. the world faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

later, when the footage made its inevitable rounds, your father called you into his office. his expression was thunderous, but before he could launch into a tirade, your mother interjected.

“oh, please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “love is love. let her live her life.”

your father looked between you and your mother, his frustration melting into reluctant acceptance. “fine,” he said, sighing heavily. “but if this boy breaks your heart, i’ll have him banned from every paddock on earth. do you hear me?”

“loud and clear,” you said, grinning.

charles became more than just a rival driver; he became your partner. the road wasn’t easy—balancing the pressures of your families, the media, and the sport itself was a challenge—but together, you proved that love could transcend the boundaries of loyalty and rivalry.

in time, even your father warmed up to charles, admitting that maybe ferrari wasn’t entirely the enemy. your relationship became a symbol of change, inspiring others to see beyond the rivalries and focus on what truly mattered.

and as you stood with charles at the end of yet another race, hand in hand, you knew you’d crossed the finish line—not just for love but for a new chapter in both your lives.

ʚ・lando norris

you weren’t supposed to be here—not in the simulator room of a mclaren facility. as the daughter of ferrari’s team principal, you had absolutely no business wandering into enemy territory. but your father had dragged you to yet another pre-season media day, and curiosity (plus boredom) got the better of you.

what you didn’t expect was to find lando norris, slouched in the simulator seat, muttering under his breath as he reset for yet another lap.

“maybe if this sim wasn’t ancient, i wouldn’t be two-tenths off,” he grumbled, smacking the steering wheel in frustration.

you couldn’t help yourself. “ever thought about turning left for a change?”

lando’s head snapped up, startled, before his lips curved into a grin. “great. ferrari’s princess is here to give me driving tips. what’s next? you gonna show me how to do a pit stop?”

“someone has to,” you shot back, stepping into the room. “clearly, mclaren hasn’t figured it out yet.”

his laugh was genuine, softening the edges of his earlier frustration. “careful, or people will think you’re defecting.”

“oh, please,” you said with a smirk. “if i wanted to sabotage ferrari’s reputation, i’d just let you borrow one of our cars.”

what started as playful banter quickly spiraled into something more.

the teasing didn’t stop after that. you’d bump into him at races or media events, and without fail, lando always had something to say.

“so, which ferrari secret are you leaking today?” he’d whisper as you passed him in the paddock.

“wouldn’t you like to know?” you’d reply, raising an eyebrow.

but beneath the sarcasm, there was something else—an undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore. it wasn’t long before stolen moments turned into late-night chats, and teasing jabs softened into something deeper.

you started meeting in secret, far from the prying eyes of the paddock. sometimes it was at quiet restaurants in cities where races were held, other times it was just sitting on the tailgate of his rental car, talking about everything but racing.

“do you ever get tired of all the rivalry crap?” you asked one night, staring at the stars.

“all the time,” he admitted. “but i’ve got to say, it’s a lot more fun with you around. even if you’re technically the enemy.”

you rolled your eyes. “please. if i were the enemy, you wouldn’t still be here.”

the turning point came after a pivotal race. ferrari had a disastrous weekend—your father’s strategy calls backfired, and both cars finished far outside the points. meanwhile, lando claimed p1, his first win of the season.

you should’ve stayed in the ferrari garage, consoling your team and putting on a brave face. instead, your feet carried you to parc fermé, straight into lando’s arms.

“you’re not supposed to be here,” he teased, grinning as he pulled you into a hug.

“yeah, well, someone has to congratulate you properly,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest.

the cameras were everywhere, catching the moment as lando lifted you off the ground and spun you around. by the time your feet touched the ground, you knew there was no hiding anymore.

when your father saw the footage, his face turned a shade of red you didn’t think was physically possible. “you hugged him. on camera. at parc fermé,” he fumed, pacing the ferrari motorhome.

“yeah, dad, i did,” you said, arms crossed. “and i’m not sorry about it.”

your mother, sitting calmly in the corner, rolled her eyes. “oh, please, let them be. even if it’s… inconvenient.”

your father stopped pacing, glaring at her before turning to you. “fine. but if he breaks your heart, i swear i’ll sabotage his car myself.”

when you relayed the conversation to lando later, he laughed, pulling you close. “your dad’s terrifying, you know.”

“yeah, but he loves me,” you said with a grin. “and he’ll come around. eventually.”

lando kissed your forehead, his voice soft. “good, because i’m not going anywhere.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

the first time you met oscar piastri, it wasn’t under the most glamorous circumstances. as ferrari’s golden child, your father had sent you to oversee a joint project with mclaren, which was code for "keep an eye on the competition."

you were mid-yawn at the coffee machine in mclaren's hospitality area, waiting for the machine to finally churn out your much-needed cappuccino, when a voice interrupted you.

“some of us actually have work to do, you know.”

you turned, glaring at the culprit—none other than oscar piastri, standing there with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“well, some of us need caffeine to tolerate said work,” you shot back, not budging.

he smirked. “right, because ferrari's success clearly hinges on how long you hog the coffee machine.”

“it’s only fair since mclaren’s been stealing all the glory lately,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

his laugh was low and unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “touché. but seriously, i need my coffee.”

you rolled your eyes but stepped aside, gesturing dramatically. “be my guest, glory-stealer.”

what started as sharp-witted banter evolved into something… else. the project forced you into countless meetings, strategy sessions, and shared moments of quiet in the paddock.

late nights at the track turned into debates about racing philosophies—he’d argue for precision, and you’d counter with passion. more than once, you’d find yourself splitting snacks when the paddock catering failed you both.

“you’re really committed to this whole ‘traitor’ thing, aren’t you?” he teased one evening, munching on a shared bag of chips.

“it’s called strategic sabotage,” you deadpanned, stealing another chip. “someone has to keep mclaren humble.”

he grinned, leaning a little closer. “you’re terrible at hiding your motives, you know.”

“and you’re terrible at hiding how much you love this,” you said, gesturing between the two of you.

he didn’t deny it.

after a grueling race weekend, where mclaren edged out ferrari in the standings, you found yourself in the paddock sulking with a bottle of water.

oscar appeared out of nowhere, slipping a folded piece of paper into your hand.

“don’t open it now,” he murmured before walking off, his usual nonchalant demeanor intact.

curious, you waited until you were alone to unfold it.

"we make a good team."

the words were simple, scribbled in his messy handwriting, but they hit you harder than you expected.

your flushed face must’ve been a dead giveaway because your father cornered you that evening.

“do you want to explain why you look like a lovesick teenager?” he asked, arms crossed.

you froze, trying to come up with a convincing lie, but he sighed before you could. “it’s piastri, isn’t it? of all the drivers—him?”

“it’s not—” you stopped yourself. lying wouldn’t work. “okay, yes, it’s him. and he makes me happy, dad.”

your father stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. finally, he muttered, “fine. but if he so much as breathes in the wrong direction, i'll send a hit out for him.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding you.

when you saw oscar later that night, you couldn’t resist telling him about your father’s “conditions.”

oscar grinned as he wrapped an arm around you. “i think i can live with that.”

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader

ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo

requests are open!

852 words.

it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.

"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.

"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.

lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.

"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".

"well, i guess the most important one is-"

"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.

"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.

lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.

"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."

your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.

"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."

his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

lando wasn't to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.

lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.

"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.

"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.

as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.

all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.

that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.

[rin-may-1103]

Just a Bite.

Master Post | Next

Danny stared out at the busy street from behind his dumpster.

or well, not his dumpster, but it might as well be his considering how many nights he's spent sitting behind it like some rabid raccoon.

Two months ago, he would have been sleeping in his own bed. His glow-in-the-dark stars vaguely lighting up his room in soft luminescent colors. The sound of Jazz snoring in her sleep just a room over, his parents still milling around in the basement.

he would have just finished fighting the box ghost and collapsed onto his bed, the sound of his home lulling him to sleep.

Oh, how things can change in a blink of an eye.

No, instead of sleeping on his bed with his cartoon ghost sheets and NASA poster covered room, he's out here in some random dirty city, sleeping behind dumpsters.

dirty, grimy, rusty dumpsters.

"did you hear?" some lady dressed in a light blue summer dress asked, turning to look at her friend as they started to walk past. "Mr. Wayne donated another lump sum to that charity." she huffed, shaking her head like she had just said the most ridiculous thing she'd ever heard.

her friend stopped in the middle of the alley opening, her graying hair splaying in an ark as she twisted to face the other women. "my word! again? what the hell is that man thinking?"

the woman huffed, then smirked in amusement. "it's like he's shouting for the world to hear how desperate he is for attention. he thinks if he donates enough money to those scoudrails they'll love him or something. With how he's acting lately, it's like he wants all the street rats to barge into his home asking for money, food, and clothes."

her friend clicked her tongue in disgust, "I'd believe it. he has so many kids now, it's like he's running an orphanage. someone, anyone really, with black hair and some tragic story could walk right in and not even be noticed. they'd blend right in with the others."

"I heard it's genetic, his father was the same way before he met Martha. Bruce's blood son, Damian I believe, acts just like his father. the boy's been spotted taking stray cats and dogs inside. It wouldn't surprise me if the paper posted about him convincing his father for another sibling at some point."

the women then turned and started to walk away, their conversation slowly bleeding into the surrounding city ruckus.

Danny leaned back, resting his head against the crumbling brick behind him.

walk right in and not be noticed? wouldn't that be grand. He had heard of Mr. wayne and his gaggle of black-haired children. What were their names again? he could have sworn Sam told him before, in one of her rants about rich society.

Richard Grayson was the first, Danny remembered because Tucker had been making none stop dick jokes for a few hours. Danny didn't understand why the man would willingly go by Dick, but then again, who was he to question someone's name when he fights ghosts like Skulker and Technis on a daily basis?

Next was... Jason? Sam had mentioned there was a whole conspiracy theory of how his death was a cover-up. how all the unsolved crime community swore it was Bruce who killed the kid, that or the kid had some terminal illness that Bruce didn't want the media to know about.

thennnnnn-

Danny glanced around, trying to dig through his memories of Sam's rant. Dick: the orphaned circus act taken in the night his parents died. he's romanie? maybe, Danny wasn't too sure on that one. Jason: taken off the streets, one of his parents was out of the picture and the other one died of a drug overdose.

and then there was..... Tim! Right, Tim, the one who was Mr. Wayne's neighbor before his mother died and his dad went into a coma, then died later on. right, right. he was the known tech genius, the one who took over the company while Mr. Wayne stepped back for a while.

there were others? like, four others? Damian, the lady said he was the blood son sooo, that would imply he was the only bio kid.

who else was there? hmmmm.

well, either way, Danny's tired brain agreed with the women. someone, anyone, who looked vaguely like the other kids could walk right into the house and no one would notice.

it was a bad idea. a terrible one really. but. Danny was hungry.

he's been sleeping behind dumpsters for a few weeks now, he hadn't had anything good to eat in forever, and he was tired. (not as exhausted as he was back home, but still tired. who would have guessed he'd sleep more while homeless?)

he wasn't going to steal from people, his core wouldn't allow him to. and well, he's pretty sure Dan would have stolen already, so there was no way Danny was going to. not unless his life was at risk, and well? it wasn't right now, so no stealing.

but this? walking right into a house and blatantly taking food? right in front of them?

it wouldn't be stealing if he just flat-out didn't try to hide it. they'd be able to stop him and send him away. heck, he doubted he'd even make it past the front gate before they turned him away.

...

was he really going to do this?

...

yes, yes he was.

standing up, Danny started making his way out of the alleyway and over to the tall building with Wayne's name on it. It was a good place to start, maybe he could even find one of the kids and walk with them. or, even better, he could find Mr. Wayne and walk with him. he liked that better than following some kid around.

suddenly, a car honked right next to him, the window rolling down to reveal a tired and disheveled man behind the wheel. glancing up, Danny made eye contact with the taxi driver.

the man yawned and gestured for him to get in, already speaking before Danny could decline. "Mr. Wayne! Your father," yawn, "Father already paid for me to take you home. just hop in."

Danny blinked then glanced around, looking to see if the Wayne the man was talking about was around. nope. turning back, Danny spotted a green sticky note on the back seat.

well, alright then. guess he was getting into the taxi and doing this after all. Clockwork obviously approved if he messed with the timing of things.

Next

[shy-writer-999]

How many dreams to say "I love you"?

Summary: Zoro overhears a private conversation and starts having disturbingly vivid dreams. He can’t figure out why, but as thoughts of you start to take over both his sleeping and waking hours, he realizes that something else must be happening.

Part 1 out of 3 (or 4). ~5k words. CW: Mostly plot. Some explicit/NSFW content, though; minors don't interact. Afab reader w/some gendered language (she/her pronouns). Kissing, fingering, masturbation.

Part 1: A lesson—don't eavesdrop.

Zoro did not think he was capable of romantic love. He’d never desired it, never felt empty about it, in fact, he saw it as an unfortunate distraction from his goals. On top of that, there were some things in his life that he could not and would never compromise on, and he had a feeling that this mindset was simply incompatible with relationships in general.

Sometimes, when he saw couples hang all over each other or make out in public, he cringed. He would roll his eyes when he saw couples holding hands, when he saw them saying “I love you” to each other, and when he saw Sanji act like a love-sick dog.

Zoro would cringe doubly hard when he heard people say, “making love,” he balked at the idea of holding hands or PDA, and felt off put by the whole concept of marriage. Like he could or would tie himself down like that forever. As if.

He never questioned his reaction to (or stances on) these things. He just shrugged it off—to him, PDA was an eyesore, and romantic love was a futile waste of time.

But the underlying reason, the reason he would never admit, was that he felt like it was forever out of reach for him. He felt like he shouldn’t even try, and he convinced himself for years that it would add nothing to his life. Nor had Zoro ever met someone who made him feel like he wanted to access the part of him where his capacity for romantic love was buried (if it existed, that is).

The few times he strained himself to imagine what it would be like to have a partner, what it would feel like to share himself with someone completely, he felt like there was a brick inside of him, literally and physically. There was some weight inside, some opaque block that he couldn’t see past. He knew that he had never experienced romantic love and he felt that at his age, if he hadn’t felt anything like that before, it’d never happen.

There was a lock inside of him and the key did not exist.

It's not like Zoro was insecure or lacked confidence. He was Roronoa Zoro, after all. He knew who he was, and he had no issue with that. It’s not that he didn’t love himself enough, but rather that he didn’t think he was capable of loving someone else.

Romantic love felt completely inaccessible for him. Maybe his insides had curdled at one point. Maybe he had too much pain to plant seeds of love inside of himself and watch them bloom. If the block was already built, he had no intentions of breaking it down. If the lock without a key was there, guarding something, he knew that it would never be opened.

He wasn’t too pressed about it, or so he thought.

One night, you and Nami were having drinks on deck. Zoro was finishing up an extra round of exercises on the upper deck, a little way away. When he was doing his exercises, he couldn’t hear anything. He was in the zone, meditating, heaving air, locked in. But when he finished working out and started stretching, he heard your conversation with Nami clearly.

He just caught the end of the conversation. He was technically eavesdropping—he wasn’t sure either of you realized he was up there, or else you wouldn’t have been so candid, but he couldn’t turn his ears off. When Zoro heard what you were saying he was intrigued. He knew he shouldn’t, but he held still and listened, against his better judgment.

“What do you mean?” He heard Nami ask you. It was the sort of conversation that you could only share with your best friend. It seemed like you were telling her everything on your mind, baring your soul, not holding back.

“Well, you know…” you answered softly, after a pause. “The type of love where you take showers together and shampoo each other’s hair. And when you’re together in public together it feels like no one else is around…”

Nami hummed in agreement, prompting you to continue.

“The type of love where you come home to them after the worst day and one look at them makes it all feel better. Forehead kisses sort of love. When you give them every part of you, and they do the same. I want a love like that. Do you know what I mean?” You asked.

You were getting bashful. Zoro could hear it in your voice. He had become very familiar with you the past few months. You were good friends, and he paid special attention to you. He watched your every move. Even so, he didn’t think anything of it—so what, he wanted to know you were safe all the time and spent hours studying your face. So what, he remembered every word you’d ever said to him. What’s the big deal? You were friends.

Zoro knew you were pretty, there was no question. If he was honest with himself, he was attracted to you. But being attracted to someone and being in love with someone aren’t the same—and no matter how much he thought you were pretty, it didn’t (and wouldn’t) go farther than that, nor would he be able to.

He thought he just didn’t have the range for a relationship, he could never see himself like that, had never felt those emotions before. Zoro had a fondness for you and told himself that this was normal between friends. Your pretty face and smile were irrelevant to the closeness and strength of your friendship, and he reprimanded himself any time he caught himself staring at your lips or musing on how pretty your fingers were.

But… Zoro would roll his eyes sardonically at Sanji anytime he got a ‘nosebleed’ over you and passed out. Zoro would call him a “fucking idiot.” If Sanji touched you or said something over the line, he’d chew him out. And if someone made one wrong step in your direction, Zoro got protective.

He wouldn’t mince words and would pull his swords out with no hesitation. He saw red one time a guy got handsy with you at a bar without your permission; Zoro caused a scene and thought about it for weeks afterwards. Any time you were injured, he felt worried sick. He told himself that all of this was the case because you were close friends.

The thought never crossed his mind that he didn’t do these things for the other people he called friends.

As he was listening, Nami responded to you. “Have you ever had a love like that?”

There was a moment of silence. Zoro figured you were shaking your head yes or no. He wondered which it was. Had you felt a love like that?

“That’s really sweet.” Nami continued. “I understand. It explains why you’ve been feeling that way recently…”  Her pensive voice trailed off.

Zoro heard your voice crack after moment, your breath hitching quietly. It sounded like you were crying. “I know I’ll be fine, but it’s just hard being so lonely when you’re around someone who… who… well, you know. I just feel so empty inside. It’s been hurting really bad recently, Nami. I don’t know what to do.” You sniffled and he could tell that you were frowning.

There was a pause for many seconds. The only thing audible was quiet sobs. He wondered if tears were getting caught in your eyelashes, rolling down your cheeks. He had never seen you cry before.

“Awh, I get it.” Nami answered. She was being kinder than Zoro thought she was capable of. “I’m sure you won’t feel like this for long though, I think he’ll come around eventually. We can all see it. I’m always here for you and will always listen to you. So, don’t get yourself down, okay? Do you want a hug?”

You squeaked out an “mhm” between sniffles. Some quiet moments passed and some shuffling. Nami must have been giving you a hug.

“Let’s wipe those tears away and get you feeling better. How about we get another bottle to distract us, and then maybe we can get Sanji to make us something yummy. I’m sure Usopp and Chopper are doing something silly, too. Does that sound like a good idea?”

He heard you answer her with another sniffle, but it sounded like you were smiling now. “Thanks for listening to me Nami, you’re the best. Yeah, let’s go get another.” Your voices and footsteps retreated inside.

Zoro was stumped for a second. He paused to let his gears turn. He was creating a mental map that looked something like this:

You were talking to Nami about what type of love you wanted.

Nami asked you if you had experienced that before… met with silence.

You were crying—you said it was hard being around someone, and you felt empty inside.

 Nami made a comment, “we can all see it.” The ‘all’ in question would presumably be the crewmates… right? What did they see, and why wasn’t he aware of this?

As Zoro pondered this mental map, he was caught up on two things. First, he was surprised to hear that you were lonely. Any time you were around him, you seemed fine. You smiled and laughed every day and had great conversations, so to hear that you were lonely was surprising for him. He wouldn’t have guessed it.

Second, when you described what sort of love you wanted, he felt something. Something shifted inside of him, or maybe it twisted. If Zoro didn’t know any better, he would have said he had butterflies, but that never happened before, and it was never going to happen. Besides, he had no clue what that felt like. So maybe he had like… indigestion or something?

He shrugged that off but was then struck again by the idea that you were lonely. You were so lonely that you started crying about it. He’d never seen that side of you before, and he was rattled. It didn’t feel good to hear you cry. Also, you were such close friends, why hadn’t you talked to him about it? Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell him? He wondered if he hurt your feelings recently or if he did anything wrong to prompt your silence on the matter.

He was starting to worry. But a voice of reason came into his mind—that was a private conversation, he told himself, you had no business listening. So keep your trap shut and mind your business.

That would prove more difficult than he imagined.

DREAMS 1 & 2: A weird coincidence

Falling asleep that night took Zoro longer than usual. Your words played in his head like a song on repeat and it was starting to drive him crazy. He remembered that you said, among other things, that you wanted to take a shower with the person you loved and shampoo each other’s hair. He was cursing himself for being so fixated on your words and he tried to force himself to sleep.

He questioned himself—why was he interested in this? What did he think about it? He was borderline pissed off at himself, telling himself to stop being weird about it, and consoled himself with the idea that he could just tell you he overheard the conversation and ask you why you were lonely.

As Zoro drifted in and out of consciousness, finally starting to dream, he found himself in a hot shower. There was someone in the shower with him, but he couldn’t tell who it was because his back was facing them. The shower was so steamy it was hard to see. He realized that the person behind him had their fingers running through his hair, scrubbing—they were washing his hair. It felt like bliss, the soap smelled lovely, and the hot water felt great.

He turned around to see who it was, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew who it was already.

You were standing behind him, suds on your hands from shampoo. Your hair was soaked, and your naked body was glistening wet. You smiled at him, and he could feel his arm reaching out to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

When your bodies touched, warm and wet, his hands slid up to squeeze one of your breasts just briefly. You pulled him into a kiss and your fingers crept into his wet and soapy hair. You hummed into his mouth, and his fingers trailed downwards, grabbing handfuls of your skin… It quickly turned into a sex dream.  

He felt himself grind his erection onto your wet stomach and thighs, heard you whine into his mouth and smash your lips on his. His hand crept downwards, reaching into that valley where your thighs met. He slipped a finger between your folds, already oozing arousal. His finger explored, reached further, started to slip into you…

Zoro’s heart was pounding so fast it woke him up. He was painfully hard, disoriented, and panting. The dream was so vivid it felt like it just happened in real life. It was like he knew what your skin felt like, and your lips tasted like, as if his fingers actually felt between your thighs and rubbed on your sensitive spots. He felt every moment of it, he had seen you so clearly… 

Zoro never had a sex dream with you before this. He didn’t get those dreams a lot, to be fair, and he didn’t know how to feel other than flustered and confused, considering the fact that you were his “friend”. He palmed his cock and grinded his hand over it through the fabric of his underwear briefly before sleep swept him away again. He was out like a light.

Later that night, Zoro dreamed of you again. This time, he was walking down a busy street through an open-air market. It was loud and crowded; music was playing, and it smelled like spices, baking bread, and roasted meat. Zoro was completely lost in the crowd, but he felt like the scene was missing something. His eyes shifted through the sea of faces and pinpointed you looking at him from the other side of the market, eyes riveted on his. You stood out in the crowd, radiant, smiling softly.

As he made his way through the throngs of people, you caught his eye again and waved at him. He was breathless. When Zoro reached you, you slowly slipped your hand into his and entwined your fingers together. Saying nothing, you brought his hand up to your mouth and gave it a kiss, looking right into his eyes. His heart twisted—it was that same feeling from before, one he wasn’t used to.

In this dream it was like he had tunnel vision. There were hundreds of people around him, but the only thing Zoro could see or pay attention to was you. The world melted away; you were the only thing left. He could feel himself place a hand on your waist and pull you closer. He leaned in to kiss you and you dodged, bringing your lips to his ear instead.

“I love you.” You whispered, your voice hushed, and he could feel your breath on his ear so clearly that it gave him goosebumps. Everything about it felt real. He could feel warmth seep into his core; it was like something bloomed inside of him, flowers letting out tendrils of precious petals and buds, enveloping the pair of you. He was intoxicatingly close to you; it was so real.

Zoro could feel himself about to whisper three words back to you before he started to fall—he woke up with a start. It was like one of those dreams where you’re rocketing towards the ground in a free fall, and right before you slam into the ground you wake up, terrified. But instead of scared, he felt distressed and weird.

Why had he dreamed of you for the first time after hearing your conversation with Nami?

Zoro recognized a possible connection immediately. Was it just a coincidence that he had dreamed about the same scenarios you discussed with Nami? Namely, that you wanted the sort of love where you could shower together, or be with them in public and the whole world melts away?

He was disturbed, to say the least. He was quite perplexed by the coincidence, by seeing you naked (at least, it felt like he had seen you), and by that weird twisting feeling in his chest.

More than that, he was distraught at the idea that he felt himself in his dream about to whisper something to you too, too, something which was blatantly and patently false. Why was he going to whisper those words back to you? It was just a dream, right? It was just a dream.

Thoughts nagged in his head—he was thinking about how fucking gorgeous you were, how serene he felt, and how close you had been. In both dreams he felt like you were staring into him, peering through his irises and seeing his soul for what it was. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on in his head.

Zoro usually wasn’t one to dwell, and so he tried to go with that strategy here, too. Just don’t think about it, he told himself. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.

When the swordsman saw you on deck that morning, his heart did a thumping thing and his body tensed up. He had the irrational fear that you’d go up to him and say, “I know what you dreamed about last night, you perv.” Or something like that. He also had no clue how to interact with you after he had eavesdropped on you and then had two very intimate dreams about you, but he tried to pretend like nothing happened. After all, he couldn’t control what he dreamed about, and you were a friend.

When you walked over to him on deck and smiled at him, he didn’t know what to say to you. “Good morning, Zoro!” There was that charming smile of yours, again. He had seen a lot of it last night.

He responded with a gruff “morning” and waved a hand as he walked upstairs to do some lifts on the upper deck.

A few hours later, you and Nami came out on the lower deck in your swimsuits and started sunbathing. You were lying on two foldy lounge chairs and you had a colorful umbrella over your heads. Sanji whipped up two fruity drinks with maraschino cherries and mini (matching) umbrellas, and it looked like you were having a fun time. There was nothing objectively unusual about this scene, in fact, it must have happened plenty of times before.

Zoro was doing his thing and working out like he usually did. Whenever he did his afternoon routine, sometimes he saw you and sometimes he didn’t. He would smile and wave sometimes when you caught each other’s eyes.

But today, he was preoccupied. He was trying his hardest not to snoop again. He couldn’t hear you at all, other than your giggles and laughs, so that made it easier to ignore you. Your laugh was clear over the crash of waves and his own heavy breaths from exercising. He really liked the way you laughed; it was one of those infectious laughs that bring a smile to other peoples’ faces. He had noticed before that when you laughed, your nose scrunched up a little bit—he thought it was cute.

After hearing bursts of raucous laughter from the pair of you, he snuck a couple glances. This was a bad idea. The view confirmed two things. First, he had a rather superficial reflection—the you from his shower dream and the you in your bathing suit looked very similar. That is to say, he saw your body in a quick glance and had to tell himself to fuck off in his own mind.

The second thing his quick glances confirmed was that something about the conversation he overheard last night changed how he felt about you (hopefully temporarily). He couldn’t put his finger on it… But he spent all day so far thinking about that conversation, trying to break it down and put the pieces back together in a way that made sense.

Why were you lonely? Why did you cry? And who were you referring to when you said it was hard to be lonely around someone? Why didn’t you ever talk about this stuff with him?

You shared so much with him. He knew where you were from, what your family was like, your favorite color, your favorite food, your favorite animal, favorite song, the list went on. But you were lonely? And that’s something you didn’t tell him?

It’s not like you had to tell him every little thing. But this felt like a big thing. And he was mulling over the type of love you wanted. The type of love you told Nami about and the scenarios you listed off were sweet and thoughtful, just like you. Hearing you talk about what sort of love you wanted didn’t make him cringe like he thought it would, given that it was lovey-dovey fluffy stuff.

Zoro couldn’t recall a time when you had a conversation about that sort of thing. Maybe once or twice, drunkenly, but those memories were foggy. Why the fuck couldn’t he get you out of his head? Why did he care so much? He was miffed and puzzled.

Dinner that evening went on as usual. You sat with Nami and Robin, giggling and smiling. Zoro tried to listen to your conversation from the other side of the table (he was being self-indulgent, and he knew he shouldn’t have).

He heard Robin speak about her newest archaeological research, Nami spilled the tea about some recent designer shopping scandal, and when the conversation turned to you, there was a moment of silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see you three exchange some glances, a cocked eyebrow from Nami, a set of flashing eyes from Robin, and a bashful look splayed across your cheeks. He wondered what that was about. Zoro tried to keep inconspicuously observing, but Luffy started shouting about something and Usopp spilled his drink all over the very distracted swordsman.

Sometimes after dinner you helped Sanji do the washing up. Usually everyone would wash their own plates but sometimes no one felt like it, so you gave Sanji a hand. You’d go around and collect the empty plates at the table—and this night, Zoro was still sitting at the table with his empty plate. Chopper was across from him going on and on about some medical incident he witnessed years ago, and Zoro was humoring him. They had the cutest dynamic. Zoro was nodding “uh-huh” and Chopper was enthusiastically gesturing and dramatizing. When you went to collect the dishes, you walked over to them.

“Hi guys, may I take your plates?”

Zoro’s heart did that thing again, that flipping twisting thing. Was he developing a heart arrhythmia? What was up with that? He wondered, troubled.

You scooped up both of their plates. When you got Zoro’s plate, you took a moment and smiled at him particularly sweet. He mumbled out a thank you and returned the smile, but it looked more like a grimace. He was having crazy cognitive dissonance—he was feeling weird, his heart was beating funky, and he felt laser focused on you, more so than usual. He told himself that he didn’t care about the conversation last night and that it was no biggie, but his body felt the exact opposite.

Zoro’s eyes followed your frame as you went to wash up the plates next to Sanji. He noted your pretty hands and the way you cleaned the plates, delicately but thoroughly. He saw the way that Sanji slid over to you and put his hand on the small of your back to lean in and whisper a compliment to you. You shied away but smiled all the same. Zoro felt a twinge of annoyance at Sanji. He’d have to chew him out later for touching you like that. Fucking creep.

Later that night, Zoro was getting ready for bed. He was shirtless, in sweatpants, lying on the bed in his cabin with his hands behind his head. Staring at the ceiling, he contemplated the last 24 hours, trying to process why and in what ways he felt different.

The familiar sounds of your footsteps padded past his open door and he didn’t turn his head to look at you. He had enough for one day, didn’t feel like scrambling his brain anymore. He was ready to go to sleep and forget about the confusion, hopefully it’d all be gone tomorrow. Zoro had just closed his eyes when you backtracked, and he heard a wooden creak as you leaned your body against the doorframe.

“Hi Zoro, how was your day?” You asked, as charming as ever.

His tone was curt, but you could recognize a note of kindness in it, one with which you had become acquainted with in the past few months. You had a short conversation about each other’s days. Before you turned to go back to your room, you wished him “sweet dreams, and good night!”

He scoffed at himself. Sweet dreams, huh? Sure thing. Underneath that urge to push away the confusion, Zoro was tickled that you had come to check up on him. He couldn’t help but notice your pajamas, how cute you looked in them, how beautiful your face was, freshly washed and all ready for bed.

As he fell asleep, he tried to fight off the relentless stream of thoughts that his mind obsessively thew at him. More than anything, he was stuck on this idea that you were lonely, and that it was hard for you to be lonely around someone. Much to his chagrin, he couldn’t help but wonder if that someone was him.

DREAMS 3 & 4: A long day at work

Zoro fell asleep eventually and his extreme agitation, he dreamed about you again.

First, Zoro found himself walking through the doorway of a house. He didn’t see much; all he knew was that this was his house. He felt like shit; he was tired, grumpy, and burnt out. As he opened the door, he heard your voice, loud, clear, and light. “Welcome home, handsome.”

You were standing in the foyer, presumably waiting for him. He threw his work briefcase on the ground (apparently he just came home from work?), and you advanced, putting your arms around his waist and pulling him into a tight hug with your head nestled on his chest. When he wrapped his arms around you, he leaned his head on yours and noticed how soft your hair was.

“I missed you.” You spoke into the crook of neck.

Again, the feeling of something blooming inside of him radiated from his core. Every muscle of his could feel you. He could hear your heartbeat, he noticed when you pulled him closer. When you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss, the negative feelings from his day at “work” melted away.

The whole day was worth it just for this moment. Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, you ran a thumb over his stubble, caressing his face... Zoro kept feeling that twisting, thumping, skipping sensation in his core. He felt it when he thought about you.

Lucid thoughts cut through the dreamscape—would you still feel lonely if he embraced you like this? If he pulled you into his arms and held you tight, would that make you feel better? What was this feeling when he thought about you? If he gave his all to you, would you feel better then? Would you stop feeling lonely if he gave everything to you, even his heart?

The dream faded into thoughts of other things. Swords, battles, weights, stress, more Zoro thoughts, etc. But hours later, in the early morning, another dreamscape with you in it materialized.

It was sickeningly real and strikingly intelligible. This dream was not within the list of scenarios that you described to Nami about the type of love you wanted—Zoro’s brain must have concocted it on its own.

Zoro was in a bed, his bed, and pale morning light trickled through half-shut blinders. He heard a door creak open and shut somewhere in the distance. His eyes were almost completely closed, just the tiniest peek of the bedroom and the muted blue-gray it was bathed in. Soft footsteps treaded over to the bed. A blurry figure crouched down, eye level with him. The dream came into focus more—you were inspecting his face while he was half asleep.

“Good morning baby,” you whispered, barely audible. You brought a hand up to pet his hair. He grumbled something in response, an acknowledgement. After a moment, you leaned in and started to adorn and sprinkle his face with kisses, as soft as possible. You brushed and pressed your lips around his cheeks, forehead, eyelids and chin gingerly. Your lips met his again, briefly, the same moment that Zoro drifted out of sleep.

He was awake now, actually awake. The light in his cabin was the same blue-gray that the room in his dream was shrouded in moments ago. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep but he was unsuccessful. He wondered what it would be like to wake up to you kissing his face like that and petting his head. Would it be the same?

Why did he keep dreaming about you? Surely all this fuss couldn’t be because he just overheard your conversation with Nami.

He felt tortured. If listening to the conversation was the prompt to you appearing in his dreams, then he just shouldn’t have listened to it. Lesson learned.

< masterlist | part two >

a/n: thank you so much for reading! this is very much a labor of love and has been in the works since september. i hope you like it! <3

[yoongelectric]

Drunk in love — LN4

~ believe when i say that you’ll know once you taste it

• part 2: blame it on the vodka

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

summary: the night where you and lando just wanted to forget about each other but ended up getting closer than ever

genre: smut, angst, fluff, friends to lovers

warnings: curse words, jealousy, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex, breeding kink

notes: english isn’t my first language so i’m sorry ig there’s any mistakes. i might have gotten a little excited with the lenght of this fic, part 2 will be shorter

The music plays loudly within the walls of your room as you and your best friend get ready for the night. After hours and hours of trying to convince you, Olivia had finally made it, not that you weren't a party girl, in fact you adored it, the feeling of being drunk, the people, the dancing, the music, flirting with strangers, you used to spend the whole week looking forward to go to your favorite club but for months now all those good times have lost all meaning when all you can see is your best friend going from girl to girl every weekend without any type of remorse. And for months you’ve been trying to do the same thing to stop thinking about him, only achieving the opposite.

You can’t blame those girls, in fact, you understand them perfectly, not just because Lando is rich and famous, that's the least important thing really, but in any crowd he's always the first man you see, he's handsome, attractive, even magnetic, the kind of man no girl would ever say no to, and you were painfully aware of that, because of course, you were one of those girls who could never say no to him.

That's what bothers you the most, because no matter how many dates you go on, how many strangers you flirt or sleep with, how much time you go without seeing him or speaking to him, you always notice how they are not him, how they don't have his laugh, his eyes, his charisma, his charm, his way of hugging you, his way of making you forget everything and everyone, no matter how good they are in bed, none of them can make you feel the warmth that you feel when he simply holds your hand or rests his hand on your waist to help you walk through a room full of people, and it's already getting tiring to hope that at some point that's going to change.

While you finish applying the sluttiest red lipstick you have, and check that you are not missing anything in your purse, you look at your outfit in the mirror, a little black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, actually, if you are not careful you can flash anyone at any moment, you feel attractive, you know you look pretty, but you also know that neither this dress, nor the makeup you spent so much time on, nor your perfect hair will be enough for Lando to look at you the way you want.

Olivia seems to notice the sad expression on your face, "y/n don't make that face, if Lando is stupid enough to not make a move on you then he doesn't deserve you to spend another second thinking about him" she says handing me a shot of vodka that I swallow without hesitation

“Do you think I'm in love with him because I want to, Olivia? If it was up to me I would only see him as the friend he sees in me, that's what he wants, but it seems I can't.”

“if you want to believe that he sees you only as a friend then go on, i think he’s just a pussy” Olivia shouts from the door as I grab my keys and follow her.

-

Lando stared at his glass of whiskey, lost in thought, looking at the time on his watch from time to time thinking about when you would arrive, he was dying to see you, he didn't know if he was imagining it but he had this feeling that you’d been avoiding him all week, you didn't answer his messages, and if he called you, you quickly ended the conversation saying that you were busy, you had always been very bad at lying, who can be busy on a Saturday morning? He knew that his doubts would be solved at any moment and oh how he wished it was just his head fucking with him.

In the distance he saw a girl who he could have sworn was you, but after looking at her for a few seconds he slapped himself internally for having mistaken you for someone else, how could you be that girl? She doesn't have your grace, nor the light that seems to follow you everywhere making you look untouchable, the people around her don't turn around automatically and he doesn't feel that comfort in his heart when looking at her, but what's the point anyway? None of them make him feel anything like that, none of them are like you and he knows it.

He knows that you are the girl for him, he has known it since he won his first race and as soon as he crossed the finish line the first thing he thought was if you would be proud of him. He knows that he will probably love you all his life and that without you his destiny is to wait for someone to entertain him enough to not think about you all the time. He knows how sad that is and he's not sure if he can continue like this for much more, but he can't condemn you to what a relationship with him means, he barely has time for himself and how could he try to have a relationship with you if he can't give you all the time you deserve? How can he try to be with you if it means you have to be moving from one side of the world to the other all the time or not see him as often as he would like?

If everything was different he would have jumped right into your arms months ago, but you deserve much more than what he can give you.

Max's voice brings him out of his thoughts telling him something painfully true "so you’re already looking for a girl who looks like Y/N to spend the night?" How much more time can he spend trying to find you in another person? probably a lot less than he thinks.

-

He was hypnotized, watching you dance with your friends, running your hands over your body, laughing and looking so sexy, since you arrived he couldn't stop looking at you, a feeling between how bothered he was by that sinful dress that hugged your body in all the right places and the concern for the cold greeting he had received, he was gripping his glass tightly and using all his will not to grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he wanted to ask you the reason behind your actions, how were you able to stay away from him, when it felt impossible for him to do that.

It was then that he saw him, tall, with a bright smile, just the type of boy you've always liked, he approached you and spoke to you so carefree, calm, without the all the nerves Lando felt every time he had to get too close to you. He doesn't know what the boy said to you that made your laugh echo throughout all the VIP area but he was sure as hell it couldn't be that funny, how could your eyes shine like that looking at someone that two seconds ago you didn't know existed? how could you look at a stranger the way Lando had always wanted for you to look at him? oh how oblivious he was

As soon as he tried to get up to stop the situation, he felt the hand of the same girl he had seen earlier on his shoulder and as some type of divine signal it was then that he came to his senses. If he really loved you, he should let you live your own life.

Back to where you were, the nameless boy grinded against you while grabbing your hip and the two of you danced to the rhythm of the music, he was cute, sure, he was nice and funny, but in your drunken state your head seemed to betray you making you think about Lando over and over again, each song seemed to be talking about him, about you, about the two of you, and just when you were trying to get away from the boy it occurred to you to look at him, At this point you should be used to it, glass in hand, a girl on his lap, kissing so passionately it made you want to cry.

You were fucking sick of it, sick of the looks of pity from all your friends, of not being able to get mad at the girl, or Lando, you could only be mad at yourself for having these stupid feelings and not being able to settle for his friendship that at the end of the day was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you really don't know how or when but you were glued to a wall kissing the guy, he was grabbing your ass tightly and biting your lip while you were pulling his hair trying to understand the situation you found yourself in, with far too many drinks on you, the jealousy, shame and unreciprocated feelings you felt for your best friend, you decided to lose yourself in the touch of the boy you had just met.

When the girl moved away from him to take a breath he saw you, your hair messy, your dress rolled up and that son of a bitch's hands grabbing you just like he would like to do, he didn't even have the decency to take you somewhere more private, but again, who was he to get involved in what you were doing if he knew that he couldn't give you what you deserved anyway, so he grabbed the girl's face and continued kissing her, but he couldn't stop thinking about you, the weight of the girl on his lap made him wish it was you, Lando wanted you to grab his hair just like you did with the boy you were kissing, he knew he could make you feel much better than him, he would take you somewhere empty because only he should be the only one to see you this way, he would grab you by the waist and pull you against him, he would kiss you with so much feelings that you wouldn't doubt his love for you, the erection that grew underneath his pants made him imagine how good you would feel rubbing yourself on him and he was sure it would feel like heaven listening to you moaning his name when he went down to kiss your neck.

“fuck, y/n just like that, baby” he didn't expect that it was going to be your name the one that escaped his lips.

The look of confusion and shock from the girl who was sitting on his lap brought him back to reality, and he doesn't know if he was suddenly sober or if all the alcohol that was in his system hit him at once but his body, his mind and all his senses told him to look for y/n, so apologizing to the girl and getting her off of him, he began to look for his love.

He looked around but there was no sign of her, her friends were still dancing in the same place but she and the boy he had seen her with earlier had disappeared, he asked Max but he told him that he had lost sight of them ago. For a while, when he saw Olivia, he realized that if anyone could help him, it was her.

he got into the crowd of dancing girls trying to get her friend's attention, "Olivia, hey, where did y/n go?" He said when the girl finally saw him

"Lando, I think you should leave her alone, she's busy" your friend knew that today you just needed to forget about him.

"Did she leave with him? Just tell me if she's still here, please" Lando was desperate, he feared that if he didn't find you now he would never have the courage to confess his feelings to you again

Olivia finally gave up "she just told me she was going to his house, I don't think they're gone yet" she took a deep breath and added "she's trying to forget you, I know deep down you know that, don't do anything if you know you're gonna hurt her, Lando."

"Thank you, i promise i will not" he said before running to the club’s door

You don't know why you agreed to this, but you found yourself walking towards the car of the boy you just met today, do you really want this? you don't know, in your head you just think that maybe this is it, maybe he can make you forget about Lando, in fact, you should be happy, he is cute, hot, funny, attentive and respectful, why aren't you happy? And why do you feel so relieved when you feel a hand on your shoulder stopping you?

"y/n, please don't go with him" you turn around when you hear the familiar voice and you feel your stomach do a thousand flips when you see the person you've been thinking about all night.

You pause to look at him before speaking, he looks agitated, in a hurry even, as if he was going to run out of time, but even in that state he is the most attractive man you have ever seen, some buttons on his shirt are undone showing his chest, as if the slightly see-through fabric wasn't enough, his tanned skin glowing under the night lights and you don't understand why he has to come out of nowhere now to ruin anyone else for you.

"Lando, is everything okay?" Your voice denotes concern and Lando just wants to have you in his arms.

"lov- sorry, y/n" he corrected himself "don't go with him, I need to talk to you, please, I need you to give me a chance"

"what are you talking about?" Your words came out like a whisper, you had to be misunderstanding him, or not?

"Sorry mate, this isn't your fault, but I love her, she's the love of my life, I can't let her go."

Suddenly you remembered the boy who was there with you, you looked over your shoulder, you only saw confusion in his gaze and you felt sorry for how he had ended up in this situation just because of bad luck, you shared a look and the boy understood that he had to leave.

"Lando, if this is some kind of joke or you're just doing it because that girl rejected you, I want you to know that it's not funny."

Lando felt a pang of pain in his chest, what had he been doing wrong all this time for you to believe him capable of playing with you like that?

"this isn’t a joke, y/n, I'm tired of pretending that I don't just love you, baby." he said taking a few steps until he was right in front of you "I don't know what I did for you to not want to see me or talk to me, but let me fix it, even if you don't feel the same way, I need you to treat me like before, I miss you love"

"I was just trying to forget you, Lando" the tears began to fall down your face and you didn't know if you felt shame, joy, anger or relief, if he felt the same, why had he made you see him with all those girls before? Why hadn't he spoken sooner? Why hadn't you spoken sooner?

you felt his lips on yours, and for the second time that night you were kissing someone, but this time everything made sense, you could only think about lando, you were right where you wanted to be, you were aware of his touch in every place where his body made contact with yours and time seemed to have stopped, you were addicted to the feeling of finally having him all to yourself and you didn't want to stop even to take a breath or move to another place.

He felt the same way and with all his strength he moved away just enough to mumble "let's get out of here."

-

The car ride to your house felt like a fever dream, you wanted to talk to each other but you had so many ideas in your head that you didn't know what to say first, you wanted to touch each other but you didn't want to spend another minute without being in a place just for the you two, so all you did was share looks of love and happy giggles

You two were finally home and it seemed like you were glued to each other, the heat in the room was becoming more and more unbearable as you kissed, grabbed and caressed each other, thanks to muscle memory you managed to get to your room and Lando just pushed you to the bed before climbing into it straddling you

"So pretty, baby, I can't believe I finally have you" he said kissing your neck and lifting your dress asking permission to take it off.

You nodded silently and Lando wasted no time in removing the garment that covered your body. He began to run kisses and licks over your shoulders, collarbones, arms and stomach until he left you desperate and trembling beneath him. You knew he was enjoying it but you had waited so long for this that you couldn't stand him not touching you right where you wanted, losing your patience you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra.

“nuh huh, that's my job, precious, let me enjoy you just the way I want” He said kissing, sucking and biting your neck, his words sending shivers to the wet areas of your skin.

"Lando, please, you're going to have plenty of time to enjoy me in every way you want, just fuck me already, I can't wait." As you spoke you couldn't help but arch your back when lando gently bit your collarbone making a moan escape your mouth.

you heard him laugh cockily "plenty of time? does that mean we're going on a second date?" and just when you thought about slapping him for his bad joke you felt him cup your pussy relieving half of the tension you felt.

He lived to please you and if you wanted to get to the point that's what he would do, he quickly got rid of your bra attacking one of your nipples with his tongue, circling the muscle over it before taking it all in his mouth, moaning softly into it, after a while he moved to your other nipple, repeating his actions, but paying attention to the previous one with his big, rough, veiny hands, you were a moaning mess, and every once in a while you had to remind yourself that this was really happening and it wasn't a product of your imagination.

"mmh Lando that feels so good, please don't stop" you said trying to reach his member to touch it over his clothes, but you instantly felt him pin your arms over your head

"not yet, y/n tonight is all about you, let me make you feel good" he said moving down to your hips leaving kisses right on the waistline of your panties

He stopped to look at the lace panties you were wearing, black and all see-through, they were sexy but at the same time elegant and Lando felt like he would faint right there.

"these are so pretty, it's a shame i have to take them off," he said, taking your underwear on each side and removing it in one go.

It was at that moment that he saw you naked for the first time, you looked so hot but also innocent, the look of desire and at the same time love in your eyes could not be compared to anything that Lando had seen before, and he couldn't believe he had been missing on this for so long.

He ran a hand over your wet center and hissed at the sensation.

"baby, please do something, I'm going crazy" you begged, pushing your hips against his hand, trying to get more friction.

"well, since you're in such a hurry, god, we have to work on your patience, love." Without warning, Lando put a finger inside your hole and at the same time went down to lick your clit, while leaving his finger still inside you, he licked your bundle of nerves from side to side, up and down and circling his tongue against you, the euphoria you felt at that moment didn’t allow you to speak, the only thing that came out of your mouth were desperate breaths and moans of his name repeatedly. Every time you dared to look between your legs and saw your friend's piercing eyes you felt yourself embarrassingly quick getting closer to the edge.

"Lando, I need more, please, I want to cum."

so you felt a second finger inside you, he began to move them at a soft and strong pace, curving them inside you in the most delicious way, it didn't take long for you to finish all over his mouth and fingers, with a scream of his name and pulling him against you by his hair, he continued sucking your clit until you pushed his head due to overstimulation.

“You taste so good, my love, please let me do it again” he said kissing your inner thighs trying to open your legs again.

"another time, babe, I want you to fuck me, I need to feel you" you said pulling him from his shirt, you were feeling a little self conscious as you noticed how he was fully dressed and you were naked in front of him, so you unbuttoned his pants begging him to take them off, he, always willing to please you, pulled them down at the same time with his boxers, letting his dick come out freely in front of your face.

None of all the dirty nights you spent thinking about him could prepare you for what was in front of your eyes, his member, the perfect length, thick and veiny, with his tip all wet, seemed to beg you to put it in your mouth.

And that’s what you did, kneeling on the bed in front of him, licking the tip vaguely and without wasting much time you started sucking on it. Lando grabbed your hair in a ponytail and allowed himself to enjoy the heat of your mouth.

You wanted to make him feel good, it was the only thing you could think at that moment, and when you looked up and saw his face contorted with pleasure, his head thrown back and tasted his salty precum you could only moan in satisfaction, the entire moment made you so wet again and your hole clenched around nothing.

Against all his desire and will, Lando removed his dick from your mouth, it felt so good, but he needed to fuck you, he needed to feel your wet walls around him, so once again he pushed you on the bed and put your legs on his shoulders.

"Are you ready?" The question felt like a joke, you had been ready for months.

"yes, so ready, please fuck me"

You felt his member press against your pussy and the wetness made it so easy for him to slide in all at once.

Both of you moaned in unison as you felt that you were finally where you belong, Lando stayed still for a moment to let you get used to the size and to take a breathe so he wouldn’t cum on the spot.

When he saw your desperate face and felt how you pushed your hips against him, Lando began to fuck you without mercy, hand on your neck choking you just the way you like it, grunts and moans escaping from his mouth, turning you on more and more.

"baby, please, I'm so close, you fuck me so so good, I love your dick so much, please" you didn't know what you were saying, you just knew that you didn't want anyone but him.

Lando couldn't help but laugh at your state, but he wasn't much better than you, feeling his orgasm getting closer, he removed his hand from your neck and began to draw circles on your clit, his thrusts were erratic and the trembling in his legs let you know that he wasn't going to last much longer.

"land-o, baby, cum inside, I need you to fill me" and with those simple words the two of you climaxed at the same time, white dots filled your vision and you could swear it was the longest orgasm you’ve ever had, when you came back to your senses, your friend removed his member from your hole and turned your positions so that you were on top of him.

"We should clean up" you said, ignoring your tiredness, trying to be responsible.

"Let's stay like this for a while, I need to hug you, hold you close" despite his tired tone you could hear him talking to you with a smile.

A few minutes passed and just when Lando was about to fall asleep, your words brought him out of his state.

"You know we'll have to talk about this tomorrow, right?"

And just like that, he remembered each and every reason why he hadn't done this before.

[dollesung]

SWEET VENOM .ᐟ

PAIRING. jake x fem reader. GENRE. nsfw. REQUESTED? no. WORD COUNT. 3.9k. SYNOPSIS. your inexperienced virgin of a best friend, jake, tries to ask you for sex advice. WARNINGS. sub!jake, dom!reader, mentions of sex, alcohol & drugs, a little dialogue heavy, inexperienced jake, reader is the same age as jake, handjob, corruption kink, kind of dubcon (but not really). minors do not interact.

NOTE. this is my first sub!enha work. english is not my first language. please bear with me. send requests thru my asks please.

Jake knew he wasn’t really that much of an experienced guy when it came to sex.

Although he was smart, maybe only academically, he really did pride himself on being more on the intelligent spectrum. Top of his class, graduated valedictorian, and was voted most likely to become the president someday, Jake was an absolute unit.

But when it came to sex? He was a clueless virgin.

He was already twenty-two, almost a college graduate, and yet here he was, with absolutely little to no knowledge of how to "do the deed," as one might say.

In his defense, sex was never really a priority.

He spent most of his teenage years studying, being a high school scholar, and all. In the off chance that he wasn't, Jake was usually doing extracurricular activities or helping his folks out at home. He did have a social life, but most of the people he hung out with were co-academics, people who focused more on being a good student, the kind your parents would love for you to hang out with.

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

Enter you, his best friend.

The two of you really personify the phrase "opposites attract" as you and Jake could be no more different from one another. The two of you were friends since childhood, as your families were next-door neighbors for years.

If Jake was academically inclined, let's just say you weren't.

You were a bit of a rebel. From a young age, you'd learned how to sneak out of your house to attend a party you weren't allowed to attend. You spent your entire high school life defying your parents and hanging out with the wrong people. Most of your friends were delinquents just like you, and you spent most days skipping classes and drinking alcohol you bought from convenience stores using a fake ID.

Of course, Jake was the only proper friend you had.

Despite attending two different universities in college, the two of you would always make an effort to catch up whenever you were both home, mostly during summer breaks or the holidays.

Like now, for example.

It was summer break for the two of you, one of your last ones, since both of you were graduating in a couple of months. You invited Jake over, with the promise of some cheap beer you smuggled from your dad’s stash in the kitchen, and a whole semester’s worth of stories to share.

“—so, we were in the sidewalk, and a fuckin’ police car comes around the corner,” you were in the middle of telling Jake the story of how you almost got arrested for the nth time. He’s sitting on your bed with a bottle in hand, quietly listening to you yap.

You’re sat on a chair by the bed, facing Jake. You’ve also got a bottle in your hand, but unlike Jake, this one isn’t your first beer of the night.

You continue your story. “I start running away, and Yujin and the others start running away, but Mark was still pissing at the side of the road so we had to fuckin’ drag the fucker while he was peeing, seriously I couldn’t stop laughing.”

Jake laughs at your story with you, taking sips of his beer as you talked. You remember the day you taught him how to drink. He was a month away from turning 18, and yet you managed to convince him to try alcohol for the first time. You were proud of yourself that day.

The conversation ends and a moment of silence passes. You place your now empty bottle on your desk table, before crossing your legs and facing Jake once more.

“Sooo,” you began, dragging the last syllable. “How about you? What’s new in your life?”

This was the routine for you two. You’d talk about your lives, what you guys did during the times you weren’t together. Most of the time, Jake's stories would be about how he aced his recent exams or how fun their university's events were. Sometimes he'd tell weird ones, like the story of how mold grew in their communal kitchen, or when a professor got food poisoning and nearly shat himself mid-lecture.

Meanwhile, you're almost always telling him stories of your adventures, about the times when you nearly got arrested or even hospitalized. Jake would lecture you often, of course, but he never attempted to genuinely stop you. In a way, you knew he lived vicariously through you.

"Nothing much," Jake shrugs. "Just the usual shit."

You scowl, "You're no fun." You grab a pillow from the bed and playfully attempt to hit him.

"Whaaat?" He laughs, avoiding your blow.

"You never tell me anything!" You complain.

As much as you knew how much of a nerd Jake was, a part of you knew he wasn't that boring. You remember one summer, a few years back when Jake told you the story of how he nearly got into a fight with a senior from his university.

"There's nothing to tell!" Jake defends himself. Then, a pause, before his face contorts. “Okay, maybe there is something…”

“I knew it!” You yelp, climbing from your chair to the mattress. “Tell me.”

Jake, scratches his nape, looking visibly awkward. The boy barely gets embarrassed, at least with you, but right now his face looks the lightest bit of rosy, which intrigues you more.

“Okay, fine,” Jake submits. It takes him another moment to respond. “There’s this girl…”

“Oh my god,” you exaggerate. “Finally!”

“The hell you mean, finally?!” Jake exasperatedly complains.

“You never talk about girls with me,” you huff. “I was starting to think you weren’t interested in women.”

“I am interested, I just don’t talk about it,” with a roll of his eyes, he places the beer bottle on your nightstand. “And it’s really nothing!”

“Just tell me,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“Okay, fine,” Jake clears his throat, licking his lips in preparation. “She’s from the cheering squad—“

“Ooh, a cheerleader, you bad boy!” You taunt, playfully hitting him on the knee.

“Are you gonna let me tell the story?” He raises his brow, tired of your teasing.

“Okay, sorry, sorry. Continue.”

“I’ve kinda liked her since junior year? I don’t usually see her ‘cause she’s from a different program but last semester she was in my politics class,” Jake continues after a pause, “We sat next to each other, and we started to just talk, and she’s really cool…”

“Did you guys fuck?” You asked brazenly.

“No! Not yet—“

“Yet?!” You gasp. “So you have a plan?”

“I don’t know!” Jake was absolutely flushed by now, his face red as he buries it in his hands in embarrassment.

You try not to laugh at how adorable he was. Your other friends were usually as, if not more, shameless as you. Talking about sex, alcohol and even drugs weren’t a rare occurrence. But with Jake, it’s like everything you talk about flustered him.

“Do you want to?” You ask him after a moment. “To fuck her. I mean.”

Jake takes his face out of his hands, but keeps his head hung low. He starts fiddling with the fabric of his trousers. He once again gives you a shrug. “Maybe, I-I don’t know…”

You tsk. “There’s nothing wrong if you want to! What if this girl wants to get into your pants, too?”

Jake’s entire face grows even redder, if that were even humanly possible. He grabs a pillow from your mattress and buries his face in it, grumbling about something you couldn’t understand.

You gently pry the pillow away from his face. “Seriously, Jake. What’s wrong in trying to get yourself laid?”

“I dunno,” he huffs. “I never thought I’d ever want to.”

“All guys want to get laid at one point, even you,” you argue.

“I don’t even know how,” Jake complains. “Like… how to approach her, how to kiss her or what, it’d be so embarrassing!”

“Well, what do you wanna know?” You ask him. “You can always ask me.”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow. “Wouldn’t that be…”

“Embarrassing?” You fill for him. “I’ve known you since we were in diapers. Is there anything left to be embarrassed about?

“I guess not,” Jake pauses for a bit, as if he’s giving it some thought. “Okay, fine.”

Evening flies by, you and Jake have been in the same position for over an hour. He spent the entire time asking you (what in your opinion are,) basic sex questions. He started of by asking how to approach a woman, before leading more raunchier questions, like how to make out with a girl, and what to do when receiving a blowjob.

“You need to hold her hair up in a ponytail, like this,” you exhibit by taking all of your hair in your hands. “You try it.”

“What, on you?” Jake asks.

“It’s just hair, Jake,” you roll your eyes. “Go on.”

Reluctantly, Jake reaches out to take over, holding all of your hair in one hand. He’s gentle, trying not to tug too much in fear of hurting you.

“Good job,” you offer as praise. “You need to keep that grip while she’s sucking you off. Makes it easier for her to get her hair out of the way.”

“Okay,” Jake supplies. He’s taking all of this pretty well, despite being a little conscious. You’re not all that surprised, seeing as this is Jake. You give this man any type of instructions and he’ll follow through with no issue.

He drops your hair as you pull away. Both of you are still sat on your bed, facing each other.

“Anything else you want to ask?” You pry.

“Um,” You can see Jake swallow, probably hyping himself up to ask you a specific question. “About the, um… the actual,, thing…”

“What about it?” You ask.

Jake takes a deep breath. “You’ve just been teaching me about like, other stuff, what about the actual sex part?”

Granted, you’ve just been teaching him about the basics, kissing, foreplay, blowjobs, but you never really thought you had to teach him about sex.

Jake really was that innocent.

You let out a puff of air. “I don’t know what to tell you, Jake. You just kinda.. y’know, put it in.”

Jake’s face scrunches in distaste. “Won’t it hurt?”

“For her, yeah maybe. ‘specially if you’re packing. Haven’t you like.. watched porn before?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Jake shakes his head. “No. I told you, I never thought I’d be interested in this.”

Poor Jake. You sigh, trying to think of something that can provide Jake any assistance. You can make him watch porn now, but knowing how inaccurate those are, it’d probably be more of a disaster to make Jake watch. A quick Google search could help, but written instructions for something so… complicated would probably also provide little to no help.

Just then, you get an idea.

“You know what,” you begin. “Why don’t I just show you?”

Jake blinks. “Huh.”

“Let me show you how to have sex. It’s easier that way, and you can pretend it’s just practice.” You say.

If there was a world record for how fast a person can turn red in a blink of an eye, Jake would have won it by now. It takes a moment for the cogs in his brain to load, and for the words to make it past his mouth. “I-I… are you serious?”

You nod. “Absolutely serious.”

Jake, absolutely gobsmacked by your suggestion, just stares at your face. “Won’t it be…”

“Embarrassing?” You repeat your earlier response with a smirk. “I told you already, there’s no need to be embarrassed with me.”

After a few seconds of thought, Jake nods his head.

Moments pass. You’ve taken the liberty to tidy up the bed a little before your… endevours with Jake begin. He’s now sat on your chair, nervously fiddling with his fingers.

You finish gathering all of the empty beer bottles in a corner by your door. You stack the pillows neatly by the headboard, before sitting in the middle of your king-sized bed, facing Jake.

His head is still hung low, but every once in a while he glances at you. When you’re finished tidying, he gives you an awkward look.

You pat the space in front of you. “Come sit.”

He follows, climbing on the bed and sitting adjacent to you. He’s still awkward, but you can tell from his face alone that he really wants to learn.

“You sure you want to do this?” You ask.

Jake nods, and you see him anxiously fiddling with his fingers again. “I do.”

“If you want to stop, you just tell me, okay?” You expressed. Jake nods again.

You scooch forward until both of your knees touch, before leaning in close to grab Jake by the neck, pulling him into a kiss. You can feel the heat from his skin through your fingers, and yet his lips feel soft against yours.

He’s gentle with it, but it takes a minute for him to relax and sink into the kiss. Soon enough you feel him slouch against you, his hands ever so lightly gripping your shoulders.

You knew you weren’t his first kiss, but he still lacks the experience to take the lead, so you run your tongue against his bottom lip, before slipping it in his open mouth.

He freezes, unsure of what to do, and before any of you can act, Jake accidentally bites down on your tongue.

“Ah, shit,” you hiss, pulling away in pain.

“S-Sorry—!” Jake tries to apologize.

“It’s fine,” you laugh. “But remember to be ready next time.”

Jake nods, and you lean towards him again. Jake expects another kiss but you go for his neck, lightly kissing the expanse of his skin.

“Always start slow,” you teach between kisses, “Don’t rush into it.”

Jake gives a small nod, letting you kiss your way back to his lips. This time, he’s much more relaxed, and he doesn’t bite when you slip your tongue in. He hums through the kiss, unconsciously leaning in for more.

When you pull away for air, you begin repositioning yourself on the bed. “You can sit in front of each other just like this, or…” you trail off, hopping off of the mattress and into Jake’s lap, “you can sit her on your lap.”

In this position, you’re looking down on Jake, and he’s looking right back up. His neck is craned, probably uncomfortably, but he’s looking at you with doe eyes, absorbing everything you’re doing and saying. His hands are on your waist, and you can feel the warmth of his body due to your proximity.

You find yourself clearing your throat, feeling your mouth dry a little. You try not to think too hard as you press your lips against Jake’s one more time.

This kiss is shorter this time, as you pull away to trail open-mouthed kisses from his jaw to his neck, your lips find their way below Jake’s ear, and you feel him shudder.

“You can give her a hickey, if she’s okay with that,” you whisper.

“H-How?” Jake mutters.

“Like this,” you hum before sucking the skin right below Jake’s ear, hard enough to leave a mark.

“A-Ah—!” Taken by surprise, Jake reacts. His hand finds its way to your hair, but he’s not quite sure if he should pull you off to make you stop, or push you further to let you continue.

You run your tongue at the spot, pressing a chaste kiss. Seeing the reddish mark, you smirk in pride.

You continue kissing his neck as your hands trail downwards, gripping the hem of his shirt. You pull away to tug it off of him, throwing it somewhere on the floor. Your hands continue down to his trousers, as you unbutton and zip them while you mark another lovebite by his clavicle.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, Jake makes a move to hide himself in his hands, but not without you pulling them away. Instead, you push him forward, letting his back hit the mattress.

“Don’t cover yourself,” you mumble. “You’re gorgeous.”

Now even more embarrassed, Jake whines once he feels your hands running all over him, over his neck, his chest, his thighs. You toy with the edge of his boxers, aware of the bulge of his cock printing through the fabric.

Unable to help yourself, you take the palm of your hand and press it against his hard-on, humming in satisfaction as he jolts up.

“Oh—!” Jake yelps.

“Feels good?” You ask.

Jake nods fervently. You take the time to take off his boxers, watching his half hard cock spring from its confinement. You give yourself a minute to stare, watching as your best friend, flushed from head to toe, stares at you with such a debauched expression.

“I know I’m supposed to be teaching you,” you begin, wrapping a hand around his cock as you speak. “But I can’t stop myself.”

“S-Stop yourself?” He repeats. “F-From what?”

You never responded, instead you began moving your hand up and down Jake’s cock in high speed, watching as the boy begins shaking, eyes widening and mouth open in a silent cry.

“Wait— fuck!” Jake shouts, his hand reaching out for your wrist but not pulling or pushing you away. His thighs try to close themselves around you, but your other hand is quick to spread them open again. “Please, w-wait!”

You feel a little evil, but you can’t stop, not when Jake continues to make the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. The pace of your strokes don’t slow, and you begin to twist your palm at the base of his cock, watching as precum accumulates on the tip.

“Ngh, fu-uhck—!” Jake moans, back arching from the bed. His hands are gripping the sheets below him, eyes shut as the pleasure shoots through his spine. “Oh, [name], puh, please—!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Please wait, Jake?”

You half expect him to tell you to stop or at least slow down, but he doesn’t respond. His legs give out and you can see his eyes roll to the back of his head. A hand on his thigh alerts you that he’s still shaking, his face contorting in pleasure.

So, instead of being merciful, you continue teasing him instead, “Feels good, Jakey?”

He nods his head so fast you’re afraid he might get neck pain. Your hand continues to stroke his cock at a brisk pace. His precum is leaking everywhere, allowing for extra lubrication as you continue.

“S-So good—!” Jake replies, “Please—“

You’re not even sure what Jake’s begging for, and you doubt Jake does either. You continue stroking for another minute, before your pace slows to a halt.

“N-No, please—“ Jake whines, “W-Why stop…?”

“You’re here to learn how to fuck, aren’t you?” You tease as you begin ridding yourself of your clothes.

Jake, both unsure of what to do with himself, but also at a trance, finds himself staring at your form. He can’t help but to stare at your breasts as you chuck your bra and the rest of your clothes to the floor.

“Like what you see?” You joke, positioning yourself back on his lap. Jake nods, breathlessly staring up at you.

You take some time to lean by your nightstand, blindly rummaging through your drawer for a condom. Once you finally found one, you tear the packet and grab the piece of latex, sliding the rubber down Jake’s cock.

“Usually, I don’t let guys fuck me without fingering me first,” you say as you position yourself. “But let’s say you’re an exception.”

You begin to sink down on Jake’s cock, eyeing the man’s face as it once again contorts in pleasure. You hiss a little at the intrusion, given that you weren’t stretched, but you were so unbelivably wet that Jake’s cock slipped in the rest of the way with no problem.

The two of you gasp once you sat with your ass flush against Jake’s thighs, feeling him fill you up in all the right places. Though he wasn’t the biggest you’ve had, his girth still had your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Fuck,” you curse.

Jake couldn’t agree more. His hands shakily grip the sides of your hips as he tries to stabilize himself. The feeling of your pussy gripping down his cock was probably one of the most intense feelings he’s ever had.

You take Jake’s face in your hands and press your lips together in a messy kiss. Jake tried to reciprocate as best as he could, but feeling your cunt clench down on his cock had him feeling dizzy.

After a while, you pull away, “‘m gonna start moving.”

You don’t wait for a reply before you began moving your hips, grinding against Jake’s lap, throwing your head back at the feeling of Jake’s cock.

“O-Oh my god,” Jake has his eyes shut, his back against the headboard as he gripped your hips for dear life. “[name]—“

“Yeah?” You hummed, starting to pick up the pace as you bounced on his cock. “‘s good, hm?”

Jake nods, “S-So fuckin’ good.”

You continued to bounce on his lap, your hands gripping his shoulders as you do so. The feeling of Jake’s cock pushing in and out of you was so goddamn addicting, you’ve never had anything like it.

The coil in your gut was tightening with every thrust, like it would burst at any moment. You took a moment to look at Jake, who was now staring at your every move, mouth open as he kept making those delicious noises.

“F-Feels so good, oh god,” Jake groans.

“Yeah, Jakey?” You can’t help but moan, “You’re so fucking cute—“

Jake tries to shake his head, but he can no longer respond. There’s a tightening in his abdomen that keeps growing by the minute, his entire body is shaking, and his moans are growing louder at every thrust.

“You gonna cum?” You ask, bracing your hands behind you as you quicken your pace. “Gonna cum in me, Jakey? Gonna cum in my pussy?”

Jake cries out at the thought, hands returning to your hips. “Fuck, please, c-can I?”

You smirk, feeling yourself growing closer. “Please what?”

“C-Cum, please,” Jake gasps, trying his hardest not to burst without permission. “C-Can I— fuuuuck, cum i-in you, p-please?”

You hum, wrapping your hands around Jake’s neck and pulling him close, “Cum, Jakey.”

Jake’s moans grow loud as he bursts, cumming into the condom inside of you. It takes only three more thrusts before you’re cumming alongside him, your entire body shaking as you hold on to the boy.

A minute passes, then two. You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath. You gently move off of Jake’s lap, his cock slipping out of your cunt as you do so. You slip off the used condom, tying it before chucking it into the trash beside your bed.

Jake is already lying down, face up against the ceiling. You collapse beside him, still trying to catch your breath from your orgasm.

“That was…” Jake tries to say, but you just shake your head.

“Save your post-sex comments for your cheerleader girlfriend,” you tease, trying to ease the tension.

Jake turns to the side to face you. “I don’t think I wanna talk to her anymore.”

You eye him from the side, with an eyebrow raised. “You sure ‘bout that?”

Jake merely grabs you by the waist, pulling you close before burying his face in your neck. “‘m sure.” He mumbles.

You’re not too opposed to it, either.

NOTE. ngl this one kinda sucks but i decided to post it anyway. please do send in requests! thanks.

© dollesung 2025

[casino-lights]

so. the thing about Illario and Lucanis.

I don't have the screenshots but somewhere in Lucanis' mind, you hear Illario's voice saying "If I was in charge, you wouldn't have to do this anymore." as far as I can tell, all the other lines in his memories are from the game, but this one is from The Wigmaker Job. the story that took place over a year (probably more) prior to the events of the game. it's referring to a scene where Lucanis comes back from their contract, injured, and Illario, worried about his cousin, says that Lucanis wouldn't have to do Caterina's bidding anymore if Illario was First Talon. so now we know Lucanis still thinks about that conversation, even though it happened so long ago.

two other things about The Wigmaker Job: 1) Illario is a lot different in it and in some ways he seems more competent than the Illario we get in veilguard; and 2) we see Zara Renata at the end, and she already has Lucanis in her sights. depending on how much time passed between that contract and Lucanis' kidnapping, she could've been setting this up for months to years.

in the concept art/storyboard frames that were recently released, Zara is hardcore giving siren in the first image and it almost looks like she's straight up controlling Illario via blood magic in the second (imo)

now imagine if Zara was looking into Lucanis, started with the people closest to him, found Illario, and said all the right things. imagine she said he should be First Talon, Caterina never loved him, Lucanis doesn't believe in him and is secretly just tolerating him, he can save Antiva from the Antaam (or whoever else), he can lead the Crows to their long-awaited unification and make them even stronger, he's the smartest prettiest most super special boy in the whole wide world, etc. (if you give this man an ounce of praise and he actually believes it, he will crumble, I know it.)

now imagine Zara, having successfully sunk her claws into Illario - Lucanis Dellamorte's cousin, the only person closer to the Demon of Vyrantium than the First Talon herself - manages to convince him to let her kill Lucanis. he doesn't have to do it himself so there's less guilt. there's no way Caterina would make him First Talon if Lucanis was alive. and then Illario would be in a position to protect his beloved Antiva because if there's one thing the Antivan Crows are, it's patriots. I think Zara played Illario like a fucking fiddle and the game was just really bad at showing us that. I think when her spirit says "he fooled us both," she means he fooled her by being less of a coward than she thought and straight up killing her.

and maybe this is the Illario apologist in me, but I also think he realized the whole thing was a doomed plan after he was defeated. I mean, he shows up to the final battle to help, at risk of his own life. maybe he's trying to atone, maybe not, but still - he is there, and he sounds more like the Illario we see in The Wigmaker Job than whatever we got through the rest of the game. with his quippy little "was that suitably self-important?" line, he's closer to himself than he was this whole time, and that makes me wonder if maybe he wasn't fully Illario. maybe that was grief and guilt and a shaky sense of self and Zara's manipulation and the feeling of losing his grip on the power he never quite had to begin with, all bundled up into a new, bitter, resentful man. I think he was used like a pawn in Zara's chess game, and that doesn't take away from his agency in this situation or lessen the blow of his betrayal, but it does make it easier for me to swallow the fact that the Obvious Traitor Illario I was immediately skeptical of in-game is not the Illario I immediately loved after one scene in Tevinter Nights where he shaves a single hair because it was uneven with the rest of his five o clock shadow.

I think ultimately, Illario realized Lucanis would forgive him anyway. I think it's because he realized he would forgive Lucanis too.

[lovebugism]

I love your writing <3 I saw “he so likes her” on the enemies to lovers but I so saw it pairing with the “me? I wouldn’t say I was flirting.” On the denial of feelings list. Eddie absolutely oblivious to the heart eyes he’s making as he pulls his hair in front of his face while chatting together

ty angel! hope you like it :D — eddie munson visits you at work every day, but not because he likes you (enemies to lovers-ish, fluff, 1.1k)

You hear Eddie before you see him. The clinking of his silver rings, the swishing of his leather jacket, the thudding of his worn sneakers. His musky cologne swaddles you in a cloud of his subtle scent before he’s even there. You’re smiling about it all before you mean to.

Crouched in the X-rated section of Family Video, you restock the vulgar printed tapes and glance up at the boy towering over you. Eddie’s smiling, too — perhaps bigger than he realizes.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to keep me company, Munson,” you tease with narrowed eyes.

“No,” the boy scoffs, a little less than convincing. He props his shoulder against the metal shelf and crosses his arms over his chest. “I have much better things to do with my Friday nights. Trust me.”

Your knees creak in protest when you rise to stand before him. You cross your arms to resemble his stance and try to be normal about your forearms brushing his. “Do you?” you lilt, obviously sarcastic.

“Yeah,” he nods with a crooked smile on his pretty pink mouth. “I could give you their names.”

“Spare me,” you scoff, rolling your eyes and spinning on your heel. Eddie follows you like a lost puppy to the front counter. “You know, if you’re gonna flirt with me, maybe try not to mention other girls. I think that’s, like, rule number one.”

Eddie’s face swirls at your words. The cartoonish look of confusion makes you smile as you round the checkout station. He forces a chuckle and props his elbows on the countertop, leaning over it in a desperate attempt to be closer to you.

“There are no—” he starts, then cuts himself off. There are no other girls, he’d say if he weren’t a total coward. But, for the sake of keeping his cards to his chest, he settles on, “—I’m not flirting with you.”

Your brow arches in a playful look of inquiry. “No?”

Eddie almost caves, then. It’s almost like you want him to say yes — to admit that he’s been flirting with you this whole time because he’s loved you since the moment he met you. It would be the truth, anyway. One that he’s spent over a year shying from.

“No,” he echoes and shakes his wild head, surprising himself with his own self-control. “No, I’m— We’re just— We’re having a conversation. ‘Cause, you know, we’re friends. I guess.”

His face scrunches like there’s something sour on his tongue. He doesn’t even like the taste of his own words. 

You squint. “Do all of your friendly conversations typically include making heart eyes at the other person?” you joke with a poorly held-back grin.

Eddie falters for a moment, knowing he’s long been found out. He decides to lie anyway. Dig the hole deeper, as it were. “Yeah, actually,” he nods. “You’ve seen the way I look at Steve, haven’t you?”

You laugh before you mean to. The sunshine sound sputters up your throat and out of your mouth before you can stop it. Eddie must not realize how he often looks at Steve The Hair Harrington — with softly squinted eyes and gently furrowed brows — like he can never quite understand what the fuck the boy is talking about. 

“Right,” you nod, still giggling.

Eddie smiles at the pretty sound. The spearmint breath of your laughter fans across his cheek at the close proximity — one which neither of you seems eager to part from. “Yeah, so… Don’t let it go to your head, alright? There’s no flirting here.”

So you drove twenty minutes across town in a half-broken-down van to have a serious conversation? you’d ask if you felt like going around in circles.

Instead, you just nod. “Noted...”

“Now, tell me,” he starts, tilting his pretty head until his curls bunch at his shoulder. “What should me and my number of escapades watch for the evening? You know, as the resident expert and all?”

You laugh at the absurdity of his question. “I don’t know. Just— choose something,” you murmur unenthusiastically.

“I want you to choose for me,” he pouts.

“Why?” you retort, leaning against the counter to lessen the cavernous distance. 

The sudden closeness has a very obvious effect on the boy across from you. His adam’s apple bobs as his tongue darts across his bottom lip. You’re close enough to kiss now. He can almost taste you.

“So you can play it as background noise and think of me while you and this very fictitious person make out on your couch?”

“Well… I’ll probably be thinking about you either way, so…” Eddie answers when his senses return to him, shrugging with a stupid, lopsided grin. “Whether you recommend something or not doesn’t really matter.”

The look he gives you makes your stomach whirl. His eyes, made of melted chocolate, get all squishy at the edges when he looks at you. Something warm and fond swims in his gaze, speckles along his flushed cheeks, and sparkles in his smile. It’s so stupidly sincere for a boy who can’t seem to take anything seriously. The notion all but stabs you in the chest.

“You’re doing it again, you know?” you tease.

His fluffy brows pinch together. “Doing what?”

“The heart eyes thing.”

“There is no thing!” he insists with a loud, boyish laugh. “I’m just— I’m just looking at you! Is that a crime?”

“Just sayin’,” you singsong with an absentminded shrug.

Your gaze glimmers with knowing and something close to adoration as it flits up and down his form. Eddie squirms beneath your prying eyes. His ringed hands rise to his hair, gathering the untamed curls and hiding his blushing face behind them. 

“Here,” he mumbles behind his palms and chestnut locks. “Is this better for you?”

You giggle at his antics, slightly grieving his pretty face. “Much,” you nod despite yourself.

Steve and Robin watch the strange encounter from afar. They peer over the Action/Adventure aisle they’re supposed to be restocking — equal parts distracted and nosey. The boy’s scruffy face twists as he watches Eddie try hopelessly to flirt with you. “This is disgusting,” he murmurs under his breath.

“Do you think he knows?” Robin laughs, deep and gritty, as she stands on the tips of her toes to see over the metal shelf.

“Knows what?”

“That he’s obsessed with her?”

“Hell no! Look at him—” Steve scoffs, jutting his chin to the wild-haired boy across the room. 

Eddie’s got his rings all tangled in his hair now. His cheeks glow red as you help unknot the silver jewelry from his curls. He’s visibly embarrassed, but he can’t stop beaming at you. It’s borderline gag-worthy.

“—He’s got no fucking clue.”

[moonstruckme]

bodyguard!james when you have a panic attack 🫣

Ty for requesting!

cw: panic attack

bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

James draws closer to you. The older, stern-looking woman you’re talking to glances at him. It’s James’ job to blend in with the wallpaper, but he’s shirking those duties now for one more important. 

You follow the woman’s gaze, noticing him behind you. “Oh, hi.” You smile at him. It’s convincing, a good attempt at hiding how you’re feeling, but James knows you well. “I’m sorry, this is James. James, Linda.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.” James gives Linda a smile of his own. He knows who she is of course, everyone here tonight was pre-vetted by his team and he’s memorized her face as one of the safe ones. He shakes her hand, settling the other lightly on your back. “Sorry to steal her away, but” —James looks to you— “could I talk to you for a minute?” 

You give Linda an anxious glance, and he presses his hand more firmly to your back. A cue.

“Of course.” Your smile blooms again, this one apologetic. They’re all lovely, but James prefers the genuine ones. You say to Linda, “I’ll find you later, okay?” 

“Yes, please.” Linda gives your shoulder a fond squeeze, departing the conversation politely as James starts to guide you away. 

There’s a smaller room not far from you, usually connected to this main one but curtained off for the event. No one notices you slip through the curtain. Your quickening breaths are ten times more obvious in the quieter space. 

“It’s okay.” James supports you the rest of the way to the couch on the other side of the room. You sink down onto it on shaky legs. “You’re fine, angel.” 

You don’t move once you’re sitting, so he maneuvers your body for you, turning you sideways and bringing your feet up onto the couch so you can hug your knees the way you like to. Taking care of you is James’ job, but he thinks he would do it either way. He can’t imagine a life in which he isn’t looking after you. He unzips the back of your dress and starts taking off your shoes. These straps always give him trouble; he doesn’t know how you manage them.

You make a low, pained sound. James feels it in the back of his throat. “James—" 

“I’m not undressing you for everyone to see,” he says lightly. “Only loosening things so you can breathe. It’s just us here, yeah?” 

You nod, closing your eyes. Your breaths sound like they hurt. James doesn’t know what set you off, but these attacks are something you’ve dealt with before. He has a sense of what you need. 

“Sweetheart.” James finally succeeds in getting your shoes off. He clasps his hands over yours firmly, all piled atop your knees. “Just take a breath. One good breath.” 

You try, he sees you trying. But it seems like the air won’t settle in your lungs. Your eyes dip just south of his chin, as though you can’t stand to look at him while they grow distant and shimmery. 

“Good,” James praises you anyway. “You’ve got it, lovely, you’re okay. I know it’s hard right now, but can you do something for me? Tell me five things you can see.” 

You don’t want to. You never do, it’s clearly a lot of work to focus in this state, but eventually James coaxes you into identifying five things in the room. One of them is the earpiece he uses to communicate with the rest of the security team, which makes him smile. 

“I don’t usually call it my spiral cord thing,” he jokes, “but good job. Let’s do four things you can hear, yeah?” 

You get to three before you start crying. James’ heart aches. He hates to see you cry, but sometimes it does help you. You’re going to be upset about your makeup after, though. You fold your face into your knees, and he reaches over you to rub your back. 

“I know.” Your skin is warm beneath his touch, the whole of you shaking. “I know it doesn’t feel like it’s getting better, but it is. You’re doing a great job.” 

“I can’t—“

“Hey, you can. You can, sweetheart. You’re doing it already, you just can’t tell yet. Here, I have something for you.” James changes tactics, fishing in his pocket. He holds a bottle of lavender oil near your face. “Smell this.” 

You pick your head up, looking at the bottle before sniffing tentatively. 

“More than that,” he encourages. “Breathe it in. It’ll help.” 

You take the best inhale you can. Your nose runs and sweat glistens at your hairline, but you try for him. James praises you amply, taking deep breaths for you to copy. He isn’t sure if you notice him doing it, but eventually yours start to match his, slowing and lengthening until you’re getting true lungfuls of the lavender scent. 

James keeps it by your nose. With his other hand, he rubs your calf. 

“You’re okay,” he sighs. “How do you feel now, lovely?” 

“Okay.” Your voice still shakes, but now more with aftershocks than true adrenaline. “Sorry, I don’t know why that happened.” 

“You don’t have to know.” James pinches your nose clean, something in his stomach tightening when you shy. “I’m sorry it happened, too, but it’s not your fault.” 

“I should…” You take a big breath. James frowns and rubs your calf again. “I should go back out.” 

He makes a soft, reprimanding sound. “Not yet. Give yourself a few minutes. You need a break. They’ll all be okay without you for a bit.” 

Your eyes go to the curtain separating you from the main room. You look at it as though you can see right through and every guest at this event is standing on the other side, tapping their feet and muttering about where you’ve gone. 

“Take a break,” James says again. “You thought you were dying a minute ago.” 

“I really did,” you admit. “I thought it wouldn’t feel so much like that after the first time.” 

James hates to see you upset. He presses a kiss to the center of your forehead and puts the oil away. Squeezes your knees in his hands. “Are you going to be okay if I go out there for a minute? I just need to grab a couple of things.” 

You nod but watch his hands ruefully as he stands and they fall away from you. “What do you need?”

“Napkins, mostly.” He gives you a sorry smile. “Obviously you look beautiful no matter what, but I think you’re going to want to clean your face up.” 

“Oh, god.” You touch your fingers underneath your eye, feeling the tackiness of smudged makeup. “Thank you.” 

“Stay right there,” James warns. “If you’re doing anything other than breathing when I get back here, we’re going straight home.” 

You roll your eyes good naturedly. James feels relieved you’re feeling well enough to do it. “You’re the boss.”  

“I’m in charge of your safety,” he says. “So, yeah, I am the boss right now. Stay right there.” 

You hold your palms up in a show of surrender. James is happy to report that as he goes out the curtain, there’s a smile teasing your lips.

[butchpeace]

My older brother is an autogynephilic TIM.

After a long time of trying to hide my real feelings and convince myself to be supportive, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t do that anymore.

I believe that a main motivation for his transition was jealousy towards me growing up. It’s become increasingly clear that he genuinely just wishes he were me.

He was misogynistic, controlling, talked down to me and treated me like I was stupid during our childhood. As a teenager, he got interested in pedophilic anime. The kind with the characters who look like little girls but are supposed to be high schoolers. He likely became interested in yuri manga at this time - pedophilic anime lesbian porn.

The way he treated me had a very negative effect on my self esteem and mental health as a young woman, and that was part of what led to my trans identification and eventual transition. I hated him. But he had also been part of what shaped my negative self image, and I had internalized it. The idea that I was stupid, not worth the same as he was, that my feelings didn’t matter, that I was a burden on the family. It wasn’t just him, but my childhood in general shaped me into a self-hating young woman who felt like she needed to escape and become something else.

A few years after I began transition, he “came out”. We were living under the same roof at the time, and I was truthfully very uncomfortable. I was on edge all the time, and didn’t feel at home in my own apartment. And I kept trying to push that feeling down because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I was being judgmental, that my instincts were wrong and I shouldn’t listen to them. That’s when I started peaking and started to consider detransition. I found a roommate and moved out. And even then I felt guilty, because he whined about not having anyone else to live with.

When he changed his name, he was pissed off that he hadn’t been born female, because he wanted my name. He said this in front of the whole family. That he doesn’t know what name he wants to go by, his only idea was what he would have been named if he were female, which is my name. He ended up choosing one of the most cliche TIM names you can choose. Another time, someone asked him his favorite colors. He told them his favorite colors were the ones I always said were my favorite as a kid. This isn’t a coincidence - It’s a specific list of colors.

These sound like just little things, and most people would brush it off, but they instantly made my brain go into red alert mode. Since then he’s become very outspoken about being a “lesbian”. He talks about wishing he could find a girlfriend, being a “lonely lesbian”, a “useless lesbian”, being “soooo gay”, whatever. He has the flags, he suddenly likes cats despite being allergic and never liking animals at all before. He watches anime and tv shows with lesbian characters and thirsts after characters like Vi from Arcane while talking about his “gender envy”.

He makes objectifying comments about women’s bodies, calls himself and my female family members “bitch”. Infantilizes himself and loves to talk about how “weak” he is. (At 5’11 with a clearly male frame) There are too many things to list honestly. All the ways in which it’s obvious that he has no idea what being a woman actually is. It’s just some concept he made up in his head, a male fantasy of what womanhood entails.

We’ve only seen each other a few times a year at most in the years since then, and I’ve just tried to avoid and ignore and not engage in conversations with him. All the while he acts nice, like he never treated me like shit growing up, as if being trans was his problem and “becoming a woman” fixed him. As if I’m the one being unreasonable for being distant and not having a close relationship.

I’m seeing more and more clearly how hollow it all is. How fake it all is. How probably perverted it all is. He was a harmful influence on my life. And now he acts like he’s a woman, and it’s hollow, and somehow he thinks that means it’s all erased and forgiven.

We’re both grown adults now, and he only physically hurt me once as a kid, but growing up seeing him fly into a rage every time I didn’t agree with him still makes me afraid of the threat of violence from him. That’s part of why it’s hard to speak up and why it’s still uncomfortable to be around him.

The crazy thing is that I know multiple detrans women who have TIM older brothers. I’ve heard from other women that there seems to be a trend of lesbians in general with TIM older brothers. There’s a pattern here, and it’s not a good one.

We need to be talking about this. Stop the silence 📣

[erwinsvow]

introducing... bitchy reader!

rafe never pays attention to sarah’s friends. new yet similar faces seem to make the rounds through tannyhill every week; the place was a revolving door. the occasional familiar girl would say hi to him, which would of course be ignored since he doesn’t care enough to say hi back.

so naturally, you become the exception to his little rule.

you and sarah are on opposite sides of the counter, flicking through magazines and taking sips from overpriced iced coffees, when he overhears a conversation that makes him stop and listen.

“-and he’s not like topper, like, at all. he’s really nice and actually talks to me instead of at me-”

“wow,” he hears you say, dragging out the syllables and sarcasm dripping from your voice. “such standards you have. no, really.”

“shut up. he’s totally sweet-” sarah says, but you interrupt her.

“he’s, like, totally a dirty pogue.” that catches his attention—not just the fact that there’s something going on between his sister and some pogue, but the way you say the sentence, how the words sound coming from your mouth. 

you nearly sound like rafe.

“that is so rude-”

“what? i’m just being honest. i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t tell you the truth.”

“what truth?” his sister questions.

“that you’re settling for some pogue boy because you’re bored of top. i get it. if i was dating him i’d be bored enough to fuck a pogue too.”

rafe cringes at the topic even though your word choice makes him laugh—topper is boring, though he doesn’t think he’s heard anyone else bring it up until now. he steps back into the doorway, watching the two of you. the crass words are coming from you, dressed in a sunny yellow dress and tapping pretty pink nails against the counter. 

“hey! i’m not bored-”

“you mean, you like hearing about his boat and golf every single day?”

“he has other hobbies! like-”

“like what?” you pause, watching sarah’s expression before giving her a pointed look—a look that says told you so. “who are you really trying to convince right now?” you flip through another magazine, finding something that must have caught your eye. you lift it to show sarah—some pinked striped pajamas and fuzzy slippers on the pages. “don’t i totally need this?”

“shut up.”

“that’s what someone says when they know the other person’s right,” you say with a mocking smile, setting down the magazine. he’s watching the whole thing—you’re funnier than he would have thought. “and if you change your mind just go to country club. top’s dime a dozen there.” the two of you start laughing. 

“i’m not gonna change my mind-”

“that’s what you said when you started dating topper,” you say it deadpan, and rafe holds back a laugh.

“-because he’s really nice. he’s a good guy.”

“ugh, sarah. making out with a dirty pogue at a bonfire is one thing. you’re talking like you’re in love. get a grip.”

“what? what’s so wrong with that?” sarah asks, taking a sip of her drink.

“because you can’t be in love with someone you have to hide your valuables around.” that’s when he decides to walk in—sarah sputtering on her drink while you roll your eyes.

“and what’re you girls talkin’ about?” rafe asks, and two sets of eyes turn to look at him. you look at him a little confused—in all the years you’ve known sarah and times you’ve been at tannyhill, rafe’s never once spoken to you.

“i don’t think it’s any of your business-” his sister says, and then he rolls his eyes. you interrupt right away.

“sarah, it’s okay.” you turn to rafe, looking right at him and leaning in a little like you’re gonna tell in something. “it’s really not any of your business.”

blank face, trying to be annoyed but not actually feeling annoyed, he stares back at you. his sister laughs stupidly, heading into the living room. she leaves you alone with rafe in the kitchen, but as you grab your drink and try to follow sarah, rafe says something.

“y’know i heard that shit you were sayin’. you’re funny, kid.” you turn back to look at rafe.

“thanks. i wasn’t joking.”

“yeah. good. at least one of my sister’s friends has ‘er head screwed straight.” you laugh, but the look on your face says you didn’t think it was funny.

“are you trying to compliment me? by insulting all my other friends?” he wasn’t expected that retort.

“no. no, i-”

“maybe if your friend wasn’t such a shit boyfriend, sarah wouldn’t be talking to some pogue. but hey, what do i know?”

“hey, kid, i-”

“don’t call me that.” you roll your eyes, walking to the living room without even glancing back at rafe. he calls out after you again.

“so have you?” you pause, turning again.

“have i what?” “made out with some pogue at the bonfire.” he shrugs. “that’s what you said to sarah, isn’t it?”

“again, how is that any of your business?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t owe you an answer. but for the record, no, i haven’t. i actually have standards.” he doesn’t miss the remark and what it says about his sister.

“good,” rafe says, looking at you. his eyes rake over your body before he can stop it—your short hem, the jewelry dangling on your wrists and neck, the heels even though you hadn’t gone anywhere.

“shut up. weirdo.” you walk to the living room where sarah’s waiting for you.

rafe’s gonna have a hard time staying away from you.

[naughtyneganjdm]

Sneaking in a Quickie

Summary: Taking your niece to a haunted farm attraction turns out to be a fun night when you convince Joel to sneak off with you to enjoy one another.

Characters: Joel Miller & the reader (OC, second person)

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59500783

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Smut, public sex, rough sex, unprotected p in v, Halloween themed, no use of Y/N, female reader, little to no plot, mentions of Sarah, etc.

Notes: This is day 3 to go with this kinktober list. The prompt I chose was "public sex".

What you thought was going to be a boring night babysitting two kids was actually turning out to be a whole lot more interesting than you thought it would be. When your niece asked you to take her to a haunted farm with multiple attractions for Halloween, you happily accepted. You wanted to spend more time with her, but when you found out she just wanted you to go in order to be a guardian to watch over her and her friend because her parents didn’t want to take her, that’s when it seemed like it was going to be boring. It had been a long time since you had gone to a haunted house of any kind and you thought you were going to be a third wheel.

Instead, when you got to the place, you were pleasantly surprised that your niece’s friend, Sarah, had brought her father along with her. That way you wouldn’t be the only adult there. And it didn’t hurt that he was incredibly good looking.

Joel Miller was his name, and, at first, he was very shy. Soft spoken. Avoided eye contact. Before the event started, you were all sitting at a picnic table with the girls talking back and forth which left you trying to make conversation with him. It was hard, but eventually you got him talking. And once he did, you couldn’t get enough of his southern drawl. From his chocolate brown eyes to his dimples and dark messy hair, you found yourself swooning over this man.

If you were in other situations, you wouldn’t have had a hard time making a pass at him. Unfortunately you were in front of children and that wasn’t going to happen. So you could only flirt with him in the most innocent of ways.

Most of the haunted attractions didn’t start until sundown, so the four of you walked around a scare zone that they had for what appeared to be the younger children. There were mazes with paintings on the walls, a spinning tunnel, a corn maze and other odds and ends. Truthfully? You didn’t care what you were doing as long as you were close to Joel. You wanted to make a good impression on him and by the lack of a ring on his finger you knew that it’d be okay with you trying so hard.

Once the sun went down, you were enamored by how much he visibly loved his daughter, but also by his smartass attitude. When the girls asked you and Joel to go first into the haunted barn attraction that they had because they were scared, Joel reminded them that the actors often went after those in the back. And he was right. Multiple times the actors would work twice as hard to scare the girls and when they got out of line, Joel would make his presence known. So while the teens were happy to be there, they also had their bodyguard to keep them safe.

Together as a group, all of you had spent a lot of time together and the more time you spent with Joel, the hotter you were for him. And by the way he was looking at you toward the end of the night, you wondered if he felt the same.

Part of you was incredibly excited when a group of girls showed up that were friends with your niece and Sarah. They begged to go spend time with them since there was a mother with that group as well. Joel agreed but requested them to meet back at a certain time.

This was exactly what you wanted. Joel suggested the two of you take a walk through the corn maze which wasn’t incredibly busy. Walking side by side with Joel felt nice. It was a cold night and the warmth of his body radiated next to yours warming you right up.

“So…” you finally let the thing that you had been wondering all night escape you. “Are you dating anyone?”

“I don’t have time for that,” Joel admitted with a nervous breath, his brow line furrowing with him shoving his hands further into his jean pockets. “Between Sarah and work, not much time for anything else.”

“Oh,” you breathed out, giving him a small nod. You didn’t want to look too happy to hear that so you looked away. “So does that leave a lot of time for sex?”

“Wow,” Joel chuckled, stopping in his tracks to give you a once over. “You just jump right in, don’t you?”

“I’m curious,” you felt a warmth flooding into your cheeks wondering if you had overstepped with the question. “Someone who looks like you…”

“What do you mean?” Joel question, his eyebrow arching in amusement.

“I mean you’re gorgeous,” you were blunt with your response. How else could you put it? “Look at you Joel.”

“Thank you,” Joel chuckled under his breath, his dimples becoming more visible. You couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or charmed by your comment. It was also somewhat dark so it didn’t allow you to see the full emotion in Joel’s dark eyes. “As are you.”

Hearing that sent a rush through your veins.

“And to answer your question,” Joel began, pulling his right hand from his pocket to reach up to brush his fingers through his messy hair. “Not really.”

“Not really?” you repeated, confused what question he was referring to. You were still focused on the idea that he thought you were gorgeous.

“Sex. I don’t have much of it,” Joel admitted, biting at his bottom lip when his dark eyes locked with yours.

“That’s a shame,” you frowned realizing that you had reached the end of the corn maze leading you back out into the open area of the scare zone again. Most of the crowd was at the haunted hayride or the haunted barn. And anyone else was really sitting at the tables talking or hanging out. The area you were walking around was more for the younger kids and since it was nighttime, the area was rather empty. “How brave are you?”

“That depends on what you’re asking,” Joel asserted, turning to face you with a confused expression. “Why do you ask?”

“I would happily take you behind the building and give you a blowjob,” you offered in a whisper having Joel release a long exhale of air from his throat. His shoulders slouched forward, his brow line rising before he looked over his shoulder to see if you were alone. “I noticed that anyone that leaves that building goes out the side. No one goes behind it.”

“Wow,” Joel muttered and it made you panic. Yeah, that was forward, but you were jumping on what you could, hoping that you could get something from this moment. You were heavily attracted to this man and you had the time to try. Looking back toward the building that you were referring to, Joel seemed to actually be considering what you said. “You know…” Joel paused, looking back toward the large group of people again, “A blowjob sounds nice, but I’d much rather fuck you.”

Hooking his fingers firmly around your wrist, Joel led you through the field. Your heart was hammering inside of your chest with the excitement flooding your veins. As you rounded the corner of the building to the maze, you made sure that no one was watching when Joel firmly pushed you against the wall eliciting a surprise gasp from you.

“Can you be quiet?” Joel wondered waiting for your answer before he did anything else. Giving him a nod, you couldn’t form words. Or maybe you were just trying to prove already that you could be quiet. Smirking, Joel bobbed his head about and looked around you to check to make sure you were alone. Once he was certain that you were, he stepped forward trapping you between him and the building. Caressing in over your hips, his large palms squeezed at them with the warmth of his breath lingering over your mouth. “You are wild, y’know that?”

“Only in the best of ways,” you whispered, your hand pressing in over the center of his firm chest. It was then that Joel stole a kiss from your lips. It was actually pretty sweet for a first kiss in a moment like this. It lingered and it felt good. Tipping back, his eyes gazed over you and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. There was only a small amount of light that allowed you to see him from the flood lights the place had set up in the main area and the light from the moon. Palming up over his chest, you slid your fingers in underneath the jacket he was wearing to caress over his arms. Underneath you felt the firmness of his biceps and it took your breath away. “You are a fine specimen of a man Joel Miller.”

“Just you wait until you realize just how fine,” Joel growled, hammering his mouth down over yours. This time it was a very dominant, passionate kiss that had you tipping up on your toes to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Parting your lips allowed him to brush his tongue between your lips and you happily returned the gesture. Gasping out, you were surprised at Joel’s quickness when he turned you to face the wooden walls that someone had thrown up quickly in order to make this place. “We have to be quick, otherwise, I reckon I’d love to kiss you all night.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of air, your eyes slammed shut and you purred out at the feeling of Joel pressing in behind you. His hands caressed up over the sides of your body and then back again. Pushing his hips forward toward your bottom had your eyes coming to a tight close. God, you wanted this so bad. And it was super naughty considering you were in public, not far away from a large group of people.

Forcefully, Joel pushed up the material of your shirt and the light jacket that you were wearing. Finding the top of your pants, he hastily tugged the material getting it down to the bottom of your thighs along with your panties. The sudden coolness of the night air sent a shuddering chill throughout your body. What followed was the sound of Joel swiftly pulling open his belt and working his pants open.

“This is going to be hard and fast. We have to make it quick, but don’t make a sound or else we can get caught. D’you understand?” Joel grunted in your ear, pressing in closer to you and it took your breath away. “D’you?”

“Yes sir,” you panted, hissing out at the incredible amount of pressure that was put over your hips with Joel moving you where he wanted you. Bracing your hands against the wall of the building, you licked your lips and did your best to hold back the whine that you wanted to let out when you felt the tip of Joel’s cock tracing over the length of your sex. God, you wished you could have seen it, but all you could do was picture it when he teased it over your clit and back toward your entrance. A moment later, Joel’s hips bounced up toward yours filling you. “Fu…”

You had to bite down on your bottom lip to silence yourself, knowing the rules. The stretching feeling was immediate. Fuck he was big. Joel stepped forward, forcing you closer toward the building with your face pressing against the coolness of it. Once he got his footing, Joel’s thrusts were meticulous. They were hard and focused. Other than his breathing growing louder, Joel was doing a pretty good job at staying quiet.

You on the other hand were fighting to stay quiet. Every bounce forward of his hips had a smacking sound filling the air. Faint winces were falling from your lips and you started to eagerly bounce your hips back against Joel’s movements. You wanted to feel every part of him inside of you. It was an addictive feeling and you hadn’t even had it that long.

The smacking of his testicles against your clit with every forceful thrust forward was driving you crazy with desire. God, you wished this didn’t have to be a quickie, but still you were loving every second of it. Pressing his head further against the side of your neck, Joel’s breaths were more broken.

“You were a happy surprise,” Joel alerted you with a quiet voice, the warmth of his breath sending chills down your spine. Dropping your left hand down, you wrapped your arm around you to cup at Joel’s bottom. Beneath your fingertips, it flexed with every thrust forward he made. Soon with your urgings, he was pounding into you and you were having a hard time hiding the sounds. Curling his fingers around your mouth had you moaning out into his palm. An amused rumble fell from him with him angling his hips differently. “We have to keep you quiet now.”

Your legs felt like Jell-O. If he didn’t have you pressed up against the wall and he wasn’t keeping you up with his other arm wrapped around your waist, you were certain that you wouldn’t be able to stand on your own.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Joel slurred in your ear and it had your eyes closing shut tightly. The tip of Joel’s cock was hitting your g-spot with every forceful thrust that he made forward. Your thighs were tensing up with a fire building in the pit of your stomach. So badly you wanted to make a noise, but Joel’s hand was keeping you from doing so. With the way you were shaking, Joel must have picked up on it with his thrusts becoming more powerful. They slowed down, but the force of them had you bouncing up on your toes toward the building. And after a few more determined thrusts, it had Joel pulling his hips back and away from you when your body shuddered and a wet sound followed. With an amused rumble, Joel still kept his fingers wrapped around your lips with your body now slouched forward shaking. “I did not picture you squirting during this, but I like it…”

Joel’s free hand found it’s way between your legs to caress at your clitoris, his fingers having you bucking up toward his touch, “how do you want me to finish?”

Shakily dropping to your knees had Joel smiling when you turned to face him. Stepping forward, he allowed you to grab at his hips to pull him closer to you. Taking your time, you curled your fingers around Joel’s length, pumping his flesh in your grasp. And when he let out a shuddering breath, you took him into your mouth, working to bob your head over his cock at the same tempo you were caressing over the base of it with.

“That’s it,” Joel licked his lips, his fingers pressing in over the back of your head to help lead your movements over his erection. Wet sounds were falling from his parted lips with the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Thrusting toward your mouth, Joel was undoubtedly wanting to get that quick release so no one would catch the two of you. “Fuck…”

In that moment you felt Joel tensing up, his cock throbbing inside of your mouth. Bouncing his hips forward, Joel pressed you further down his length. The first line of his cum hit the back of your throat and you did your best to swallow it down. Continuing his release, Joel clung tightly to your head biting back the sounds that he wanted to make.

By the time he was done, he released you allowing you to pull back and away to rest on your knees. Joel’s cock twitched and you licked your lips, cherishing the taste of him that was still there. Reaching for his pants, Joel pulled them back over his hips. Working his softening cock back into his pants, Joel was quick to fix his clothes before helping you up.

“Come here,” Joel nuzzled his nose in against the side of your neck while he helped work your pants back up over your waist.

“So you’re a gentleman too?” you teased still feeling uneasy on your legs, thankful that Joel was holding onto you.

“Something like that,” Joel snorted, collecting your chin between his thumb and index finger. Gifting you with another kiss, Joel hummed against your flesh. You assumed he tasted himself against your flesh with him drawing his tongue out over his bottom lip. Looking to his watch, Joel huffed and shrugged his shoulders. “We need to get going.”

“That’s a shame,” you frowned hating how quickly something this amazing had to end.

“Nothing about tonight was a shame,” Joel corrected you, outstretching his hand to caress his thumb in over your bottom lip. “We’re just going to have to find a time where we can do this again and make it last all night.”  

[cherryxbooo]

Hey 😊 I love your writing sooo much !

Would you maybe write a Tim Bradford imagine where you're also a TO and you're having feelings for each other but you both try to ignore them, not to let them get in your way during the job. One time that changes as like in the episodes where Lucy gets kidnapped, it's you instead of her after a date gone wrong. Tim is on the edge the whole time till they find you. And when he sees you in that barrel, barely alive, his world crashes. Of course you can be saved and he stays at the hospital all the time. When you get home he also insists on taking care of you and there he also finds the courage to tell you his feelings properly, how much he loves you and that he'll always be there to protect you. I hope that's okay with you 💗🫶🏼

I’m not going anywhere

Summary: Tim and Y/N, both tough and dedicated TOs, struggle to suppress their growing feelings for each other. When Y/N is abducted after a date goes wrong, Tim refuses to back down, risking everything to find her.

Note: I'm so glad you enjoy my stories, love! 🫶 Thank you for this amazing request, I absolutely love the idea! I decided to give it my own spin to keep it unique and fresh instead of copying the entire episode. I hope you enjoy it! 🤍

Reader x Tim Bradford

Genre: fluff/angst

Being a Training Officer was never easy. You were expected to mold rookies into dependable cops, but it was also your job to keep them alive.

Every shift brought challenges that tested your patience and skills, especially when you worked alongside someone like Tim Bradford.

Tim was a force of nature. His bluntness could crush egos, his discipline was unmatched, and his loyalty ran deeper than any badge.

As a fellow TO, I admired him more than I cared to admit. But admiration had morphed into something more, something complicated.

I had feelings for him. And it was maddening.

Tim was infuriating. He challenged me at every turn, pushed me to my limits, and managed to crawl under my skin like no one else ever had.

But then there were the moments that made my heart ache:

the quiet glances when he thought no one was watching, the softness in his voice when he checked on me after a tough day, the way he never let anyone, rookie or otherwise, disrespect me.

We would also text each other back and forth to check in on one another.

It got to the point where if one of us didn’t respond within an hour, we assumed something was wrong.

That’s what normal colleagues do, right? Checking up on one another, or am I just fooling myself?

For months, I’d buried those feelings, telling myself that they were a distraction I couldn’t afford.

This job was dangerous enough without the added complication of being in love with my colleague.

Still, there were moments when I wondered if he felt the same.

I mean, someone like Tim Bradford wouldn’t just know my favorite coffee order for no reason, right?

The station was already filled with people when I arrived, the smell of burnt coffee and stale paperwork filling the air.

I was halfway to my desk when I heard Tim’s voice behind me.

“You look like you didn’t sleep,” he said, stepping beside me.

“Good morning to you too, Bradford,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“I’m serious,” he said, giving me a once-over and putting the coffee he got me down on my desk.

“Late night?”

“Something like that,” I muttered, collapsing into my chair.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Work-related?”

“No.”

He didn’t ask further, but the tension in his jaw told me he wanted to.

The truth was, I’d been on another date last night.

For weeks, I’d been trying to distract myself from my feelings for Tim by going out with guys I barely knew.

The dates were always the same, awkward conversations, forced laughter, and a growing sense that I was wasting my time.

But I kept trying, convinced that if I could just find someone else, I’d stop thinking about Tim every second of every day.

“How’s the rookie?” I asked, steering the conversation away from myself.

Tim sighed. “Still green, but they’ll get there.”

Before he could say more, Angela appeared, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, if it isn’t the dream team,” she teased, leaning against my desk.

“What do you want, Lopez?” Tim asked, crossing his arms.

“Nothing,” she said innocently.

“Just enjoying the sight of you two pretending you’re not completely into each other.”

I nearly choked on my coffee. “Excuse me?”

Angela smirked. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious to everyone but you two.”

Tim’s ears turned red, and he muttered something under his breath before walking off.

“You really need to do something about that tension,” Angela said, winking at me.

I glared at her. “There is no tension. Besides, I'm going on a date later tonight." I added to make her shut up.

“Sure, but we both know the real reason why you're going on that date,” she said, walking away with a laugh.

I glanced at Tim, who was now at the other end of the room, barking orders at a rookie.

For a moment, our eyes met, and my heart did that stupid fluttering thing I hated so much.

Angela might have been onto something.

That evening after my shift, I found myself sitting across from Eric, my date for the night.

He was tall, dark-haired, and charming in a way that felt almost too polished.

We’d met at a coffee shop a week ago, and while I hadn’t been particularly interested, I’d agreed to go out with him.

“So, what made you say yes?” Eric asked, flashing me a grin.

“Honestly? I don’t know,” I admitted, sipping my drink.

He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I nodded, but my mind wasn’t really on him. As he talked about his job in finance, I found myself comparing him to Tim.

Eric was nice, but he didn’t have Tim’s sharp wit or his quiet strength.

“You’re distracted,” Eric said suddenly, his voice breaking into my thoughts.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Long day.”

“Let’s fix that,” he said, signaling the bartender for another round. “How about we go somewhere quieter after this?”

I hesitated, knowing I shouldn't agree to go with a stranger but I wanted to forget about Tim.

His charm had a rehearsed quality, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something about Eric felt... off.

But I pushed the thought aside, chalking it up to my overactive imagination.

“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile

Eric’s apartment was in a run-down building on the outskirts of the city.

The moment I stepped inside, unease crept up my spine.

The place was sparse, too sparse, and smelled faintly of chemicals.

“Nice place,” I said, trying to keep my voice light.

“Thanks,” Eric replied, locking the door behind us.

When I turned to face him, his expression had changed. The easy smile was gone, replaced by something darker.

“You’re a cop, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice low and sharp.

I froze. Not understanding why that was important. “What?”

“I saw your badge the other night,” he said, stepping closer.

My heart raced. “Eric, I think you’re confused—”

Before I could finish, he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising.

“You cops think you’re so smart,” he snarled. “Always sticking your noses where they don’t belong.”

“Let go of me,” I said, trying to pull away.

He didn’t. Instead, he shoved me against the wall, his hand clamping over my mouth.

“You’re going to regret this,” he hissed.

Panic surged through me as he dragged me toward a side door. My mind raced, searching for an escape, but he was too strong.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the glint of a syringe in his hand.

When I woke up, my head throbbed, and my body felt heavy. I was in a dark, cold room, my hands bound and my mouth gagged.

Eric stood over me, a twisted smile on his face.

“Slept well, officer?” he taunted.

I glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“You thought you could mess with me?” he continued, pacing. “Well, now you’re going to see what happens when people cross me.”

He opened a barrel in the corner of the room, the metallic smell making my stomach churn.

“No one’s coming for you,” he said, lifting me effortlessly and shoving me inside.

As the lid closed, plunging me into darkness, I fought to stay calm. I couldn’t die here. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Tim paced through the station, his instincts churning. Something was wrong.

He couldn't explain it, but the nagging feeling in his gut had only grown stronger since Y/N hadn’t responded to his messages.

It wasn’t like her to leave him hanging, and she always checked in after her shifts or when she went out.

He tried to push the thought aside, she was a grown woman, capable and strong, but it wouldn’t leave him.

Tim knew her routines, and her habits, and something didn’t add up. He checked his phone again.

Nothing.

“Where is she?” he muttered under his breath, frustration bubbling over.

Back at his desk, Tim pulled out his phone and shot her another text:

“You home safe?”

The minutes ticked by, and there was no response.

He told himself she was probably asleep or didn’t hear her phone. She always replied, though. Always.

Another text: “Y/N, call me when you get this.”

Tim stared at the screen, waiting, the worry clawing at him now. He scrolled through their recent messages, trying to reassure himself.

Her last text had been earlier in the evening: “Heading out now. Have fun working your long shift!”

It sounded normal. Casual. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He stepped out into the hallway and called her phone. It rang and rang before going to voicemail.

“Y/N, it’s me. Call me back when you get this, alright? Just… let me know you’re okay.”

He hung up, his chest tightening. Something was definitely wrong.

Tim called her again, then again, but there was no answer.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, pacing back and forth.

He decided to start with the basics. Heading to Grey’s office, Tim knocked and stepped in without waiting for an answer.

“Bradford, what can I do for you?” Grey asked, looking up from his paperwork.

“Have you seen Y/L/N? She didn’t come back to the station tonight, did she?” Tim asked, keeping his tone steady, though his mind was racing.

Grey shook his head. “No, she clocked out on time. Why?”

Tim hesitated. “No reason just hadn’t heard from her. Thought she might’ve stayed late.”

“Everything okay?” Grey’s perceptive gaze lingered.

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s fine.” Tim turned and left the office, though his gut told him otherwise.

Tim strode into the bullpen, where Angela Lopez and Nyla Harper were deep in conversation over their laptops.

“Have either of you heard from Y/N?” Tim asked abruptly.

Angela looked up, frowning. “Not since this morning. Didn’t she have a date tonight?”

The word date hit Tim like a punch. “Do you know where?”

Angela shook her head. “She didn’t say much, just that it was someone new she met online. Why?”

Tim’s jaw tightened. “She’s not answering her phone.”

Nyla set her coffee down, her sharp instincts immediately kicking in. “How long has it been?”

“Hours,” Tim admitted, his frustration evident. “She always checks in. This isn’t like her.”

Angela exchanged a glance with Nyla.

“Alright,” Nyla said, standing up.

“Let’s figure this out. You said she had a date, does she use any apps? Maybe tech can pull her messages.”

Angela nodded. “She mentioned using something, but I don’t remember the name. Let’s get tech on it.”

Angela grabbed her phone, calling tech support while Nyla placed a calming hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her, Bradford,” she said firmly. “You know Y/N, she’s tough. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.”

Tim didn’t respond, his jaw clenched tightly.

The bullpen was full of people and their voices, but to Tim, the noise was a distant hum.

His focus was razor-sharp, his jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ached.

He loomed behind the tech analyst’s desk, the tension radiating off him making the others keep their distance.

Angela and Nyla exchanged concerned glances nearby, but no one dared to interrupt him.

“Anything yet?” he barked, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.

The analyst flinched slightly but kept typing. “I’m pulling her dating app data now. It’s just taking a moment to decrypt the server.”

Tim’s fists clenched at his sides. Every second felt like a lifetime.

Y/N was out there, somewhere, and the thought of her being in danger gnawed at him like a vice around his chest.

Finally, the analyst straightened. “Got something!”

Tim surged forward, leaning over the desk as the analyst brought up a profile on the screen.

“She was messaging a guy named Eric Dawson,” the analyst explained, scrolling through the messages.

“They had arranged to meet at a bar in Eagle Rock.”

Tim’s heart pounded. “What bar?”

“Solana’s Tavern,” the analyst replied.

Nyla crossed her arms, her brow furrowed.

“That area’s rough. Not exactly where you take someone on a first date.”

Tim’s chest tightened further. “Pull traffic cams from outside the bar. I need to know if she made it there and if she left.”

The analyst nodded and got to work, typing furiously. The tension in the room was suffocating as everyone watched the screen in silence.

Tim paced behind the desk, every step heavy with barely restrained anxiety.

“Tim,” Angela said softly, approaching him.

“Maybe you should take a beat. Let us handle this.”

He spun around, his eyes blazing. “No. She’s counting on me. I’m not sitting this one out.”

Angela held up her hands in surrender, backing off.

“Got it!” the analyst said, breaking the silence.

Footage from a traffic camera outside the bar flickered onto the screen.

They watched as Y/N appeared, her expression hesitant as she walked into the bar.

“There she is,” Angela said, pointing at the screen.

Tim leaned closer, his eyes locked on the image of Y/N.

He barely noticed how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the desk.

The analyst fast-forwarded the footage, scanning for her exit. About an hour later, Y/N appeared again, walking out with a man.

The guy had his hand on her arm, his grip firm, his body language all wrong.

“She doesn’t look comfortable,” Nyla said, her voice low.

“He’s leading her. She’s not willingly going with him.”

Tim’s stomach churned. “Run his plates,” he snapped, his tone sharp.

The analyst zoomed in on the car the man guided Y/N towards, pulling up the plate number.

Seconds later, the vehicle’s registration information appeared.

“The car is registered to an address just outside the city,” the analyst said.

“A warehouse on the outskirts of town.”

“That’s it,” Tim said, already moving.

He grabbed his vest and radio. “Gear up. We’re heading there now.”

“Tim,” Grey’s voice called, cutting through the chaos.

Tim stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You need to stay focused,” Grey said firmly, stepping closer.

“I know how much this means to you, but if you’re too emotional, you’ll compromise the operation.”

Tim turned, his eyes hard. “With all due respect sir but again, I’m not sitting this one out.”

Grey studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But keep your head on straight. She’s counting on you, and I can't afford to lose one of my best officers.”

Tim nodded sharply, strapping on his vest.

“Let’s move,” he said to Angela and Nyla, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With the rest of the team following behind.

The warehouse loomed in the distance, a decrepit shell of concrete and rust that felt suffocating even from the outside.

Tim’s heart pounded in his chest as he and the team moved in silently, weapons drawn.

Every instinct screamed at him to hurry, but he forced himself to stay focused.

This wasn’t just another rescue mission. This was Y/N. His Y/N.

And he was barely holding it together.

They moved through the darkened halls, their flashlights sweeping over scattered debris and abandoned machinery.

The air was thick with the smell of oil and mildew, but there was something else, a faint metallic tang that Tim couldn’t quite place.

It turned his stomach.

“Clear,” Angela said, her voice steady as they swept one room after another.

Tim’s jaw clenched. Every second that passed felt like an eternity, and with each empty room, the knot in his chest tightened.

“Over here!” Nolan’s voice cut through the tense silence.

Tim turned, his flashlight catching the glint of something metallic in the corner of the room. A row of barrels.

“No...” he whispered, his legs moving before his brain could catch up.

The closer he got, the stronger the smell became, an acrid mix of chemicals and fear.

He dropped to his knees in front of the nearest barrel, his hands trembling as he pried the lid off.

Empty.

He moved to the next one, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Bradford,” Angela said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No!” he snapped, shaking her off. “I’m not stopping.”

The third barrel was heavier. He could feel it as he pulled at the lid, his muscles straining. And then it came loose.

Tim’s flashlight illuminated the inside, and his entire world shattered.

It was her.

Y/N was curled inside, her body limp, her skin pale and clammy. Her wrists were bound, the rope digging so deeply into her skin that blood had dried in angry, red streaks.

Her breathing was shallow, her chest rising and falling so faintly he almost missed it.

“Y/N!” he choked, dropping his flashlight and reaching in to pull her out.

“Get a medic!” Angela yelled, her voice distant as Tim focused solely on Y/N.

He cradled her against his chest, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. It was there, but weak.

“Come on, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Stay with me.”

Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. But then her lips parted, and a barely audible whisper escaped.

“Tim...”

Relief surged through him, hot and overwhelming.

“I’m here,” he said, brushing the hair from her face. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Her head lolled against his chest, and he tightened his grip, as if holding her closer could somehow shield her from everything she’d been through.

The paramedics arrived moments later, but to Tim, it felt like hours.

He reluctantly let them take her, his hands still hovering as if afraid she’d disappear if he didn’t keep touching her.

As they loaded her into the ambulance, Angela placed a hand on his shoulder again. This time, he didn’t shrug it off.

“You did good,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer. All he could think about was the sight of her in that barrel, the life nearly drained out of her.

And how he never wanted to feel that kind of fear again.

The first thing I felt was pain, dull, throbbing, and constant pain.

It was everywhere, but especially in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe deeply without it stabbing me from the inside.

My eyes fluttered open, and I was greeted by a blinding white light that made me squeeze them shut again.

I tried to move, but my body protested. My throat was dry, my lips cracked.

“Y/N?”

The voice was soft, deep, and familiar. I forced my eyes open again, squinting, and slowly turned my head toward the sound.

“Tim…” I croaked, barely above a whisper.

He was right there, leaning forward in the stiff hospital chair like he’d been glued to it for hours.

His hands were gripping mine tightly, and his face was a mixture of relief and worry.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice rough and unsteady.

His eyes softened as they roamed over my face like he couldn’t believe I was actually there.

“Where am I?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

“You’re in the hospital,” he said, sitting up straighter. “You’re safe now. We found you.”

The memories started flooding back. The date. The man. Everything.

My heart rate spiked, and the beeping from the monitor beside me quickened.

“The barrel…” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Tears stung my eyes as I remembered the cold, the suffocating darkness, and the terror that had gripped me when I thought I’d never get out.

Tim’s hand tightened around mine, grounding me.

“It’s over. He can’t hurt you anymore,” he said firmly, his voice laced with a quiet rage.

“I thought… I thought I was going to die,” I admitted, my voice trembling.

Tim’s jaw tightened, and he leaned closer. “You didn’t. You fought, Y/N. You held on long enough for us to get to you. And I swear, nothing like this will ever happen to you again. I won’t let it.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks as I looked at him.

His face etched with so much emotion that it was hard to believe this was the same Tim Bradford who kept his feelings so close to his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He shook his head, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Don’t thank me. Just… promise me you’ll be more careful. No more dates with guys like that.”

I let out a weak laugh that quickly turned into a wince. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

His lips curved into the faintest smile, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade.

The drive back to my place was quiet. Tim insisted on taking me home himself after I got discharged.

I didn’t have the energy to argue. My ribs ached with every bump in the road, and the painkillers they’d given me at the hospital were starting to wear off.

When we got to my place, I reached for the door handle, but Tim was faster.

He was already out of the car and opening my door before I could even unbuckle my seatbelt.

“You don’t have to hover, you know,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my voice.

“You’ve barely been out of the hospital for a day,” he shot back, ignoring my attempt to downplay things.

“I’m not taking any chances.”

I didn’t argue. Honestly, I didn’t want to be alone.

Inside, Tim helped me settle on the couch, propping me up with pillows and making sure I had everything within arm’s reach: water, my phone, and even the remote for the TV.

“Comfortable?” he asked, standing in front of me with his arms crossed.

“Yes, officer Bradford,” I teased, giving him a tired smile.

He smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, he disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the faint clatter of dishes.

A few minutes later, he returned with a cup of tea.

“Here,” he said, handing it to me carefully. “Drink. Doctor’s orders.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become so domestic?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down in the armchair across from me.

We sat in silence for a while, the tension between us thick and unspoken.

I sipped my tea, glancing at him occasionally, and each time I did, I caught him staring at me like he was afraid I might disappear.

“You know,” I said finally, breaking the silence, “you don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”

Tim frowned. “I’m not going anywhere. End of discussion.”

There was a finality in his tone that told me arguing would be pointless. Still, I couldn’t help but ask,

“Why?”

His jaw tightened, and he looked away, his fingers tapping restlessly on the armrest.

“Because I need to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly.

Something in his voice made my chest tighten. “Tim…”

“I thought I lost you,” he said, cutting me off.

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, all the walls he kept so carefully constructed were gone.

“Do you know what it felt like, finding you like that? You were barely breathing, Y/N. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things on this job, but nothing ever scared me like that.”

I set the cup down, my hands trembling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be,” he said firmly. “This wasn’t your fault. But I can’t—” He stopped, his voice breaking.

“I can’t go through that again.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at him, my heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice.

“I’m still here, Tim,” I said softly.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he nodded. “Yeah. You are.”

Later that evening,

The room was quiet, the soft hum of the TV filling the background.

I was cocooned in a blanket, my body still aching, but the dull pain was nothing compared to the storm of emotions swirling inside me.

Tim was sitting close, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, his presence steady and comforting.

Without thinking, I shifted closer, leaning my head against his shoulder.

It wasn’t intentional, or maybe it was, but it felt natural like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.

Tim didn’t move. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel him tense slightly under my touch.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the quiet.

I lifted my head, glancing at him in confusion. “For what?”

“For everything.” His eyes were fixed on the TV, but he wasn’t really watching it.

“For not seeing the signs. For not protecting you. For letting this happen to you.”

“Tim…” I reached out, placing my hand lightly on his arm.

“You couldn’t have known. It wasn’t your fault.”

He finally turned to look at me, his blue eyes swirling with guilt, and something deeper, something I couldn’t quite put into words.

“That’s not all I’m sorry for.”

A knot formed in my stomach. “What do you mean?”

Tim hesitated, his jaw tightening as if he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.

Then, he shifted, turning his body toward me fully. “I’ve been holding something back. Something I should’ve said a long time ago.”

My heart began to race. I swallowed hard. “Tim…”

He shook his head, cutting me off gently. “Just… let me finish.” He took a deep breath.

“When I saw you in that barrel, when I thought I might lose you, I realized how much I’ve been lying to myself. About you. About us.”

His words hit me like a freight train, and I struggled to find my voice. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” He paused, his voice soft but steady.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been in love with you for months. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it because I thought it would mess everything up. The job. Us. But after what happened…”

His voice cracked slightly, his vulnerability breaking through. “I can’t keep pretending anymore. I can’t lose you without you knowing how I feel.”

I stared at him, my heart pounding so hard it drowned out the noise of the TV, of the world.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I let out a shaky laugh.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that,” I whispered.

Tim’s brows furrowed slightly in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I took a deep breath, the words spilling out before I could overthink them.

“I’ve been going on those dates to forget about you.”

His eyes widened, shock flickering across his face. “What?”

“I thought…” My voice cracked, and I looked down at my hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“I thought you’d never feel the same way. I thought if I distracted myself and forced myself to move on, I could stop feeling this way about you. But it never worked. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Tim.”

Silence settled between us, heavy and charged. Then, Tim let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “You should’ve told me.”

“I was scared,” I admitted, finally looking up at him.

“Scared of ruining what we have. Scared of losing you.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly, his voice leaving no room for doubt.

He reached up, his hand gently cupping my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Not now. Not ever.”

I leaned into his touch, my heart swelling with relief, with joy, with everything I’d been holding back for so long.

“You mean that?”

“Every word,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

Slowly, he leaned in, and my breath caught in my throat.

He gave me every opportunity to pull away, to stop him, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to.

When his lips finally met mine, it was soft and tentative at first, as if we were both still testing the waters.

But then it deepened, carrying months of unspoken emotions, of longing, of everything we’d tried so hard to ignore.

When we finally pulled apart, I let out a breathless laugh, leaning my forehead against his.

“That was a long time coming.”

“You’re telling me,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

I pulled back slightly to look at him, my expression turning serious. “What happens now?”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm and filled with a rare tenderness.

“Now, we take it one day at a time. No rush. No pressure. But I promise you this: I’m not going anywhere.”

Tears stung my eyes again, but this time, they were tears of relief, of happiness.

I smiled, leaning into his embrace as his arms wrapped securely around me.

“I think I can live with that,” I murmured, my voice muffled against his chest.

And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I felt more at peace than I had in weeks.

Maybe even months. No matter what challenges lay ahead, I knew one thing for certain:

We’d face them together.

The end

[cottonlemonade]

Mr Steal Your Girl

word count: 1311 || avg. reading time: 6 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kenma x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, University

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: Kenma tries to ask you out but has awful timing

It was already hard enough to dress for a normal date but finding an outfit for a blind date you didn’t want to go to to begin with was impossible.

Your best friend was annoyed that she couldn’t take you and your chronically single self on any double dates and so decided to take matters into her own hands. At least once every few months she would close her eyes and pick a random guy walking around the campus cafeteria and ask if he was interested in a “cool, funny, smart girl that was just too shy to ask herself” and most of the time that was enough. The date was set, your friend dragged you along and you had a miserable two hours before being allowed to return to your natural habitat - your dorm room.

In her defense, most guys she selected were actually very nice. And except for the last one who had forgotten his wallet, then ate his weight in burgers, let you pay, and had since vanished without a trace or payback, they all knew how to behave. They kept the conversations going, complimented you, and usually asked for a second date, but you liked being alone and besides, dating was stressful. Who needed the whole hassle of getting dressed up and leaving the house? You wanted someone who liked to spend their time indoors, watch movies, play games, build a Lego set or two, snuggle, and snack.

Kenma was convinced that you were perfect for him. Witty, had excellent taste in games and music, and a figure that put every body pillow he ever received as a promo gift to shame. He spent the better part of any lecture twirling his pen in his long fingers and staring at the back of your head, then quickly snapping his eyes the other way, pretending to look intently at the monitor upfront if you happened to turn around during a stretch. He remembered overhearing one of his former classmates once saying that asking someone out was easy, but now that Kenma absently drew a heart with your initials on the side of his notes, he found he didn’t share that sentiment. Partly because he didn’t like to go out in the first place, so how would he convincingly invite someone to something he didn’t even want to go to either?

None of his friends knew about his crush on you and he wasn’t going to admit it to them. Not because he would be embarrassed if they knew, but because he didn’t want to be grouped together with your small and not-so-secret on-campus fan club - a bunch of desperate boys who all wanted a piece of the chubby queen of homebodies. So he denied any allegations that quickening his sluggish steps on the way to the lecture hall to sit in your vicinity, his sleep-deprived heart eyes and doodle-adorned notepads meant anything. Pondering, he tapped the tip of his pen onto the paper, trying to figure out a way to invite you to play games with him, romantically. He wasn‘t going to stoop as low as to ask Kuroo for help and instead took to the wild seas of the internet for advice.

As he scrolled through the many many forums, sifting through mostly bad ideas, he overheard one of your friends say, “It‘s just dinner and a movie. Give him a chance. He is the captain of the swim team after all.“

Kenma‘s heart sank - and then bounced back up immediately when you groaned.

“Look, it‘s sweet and … a little concerning how much you care about my love life, but I‘m not interested in him. Or anyone really. I just prefer to be alone.“

100% understanding and agreeing with you, Kenma chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking if it would come across as weird and creepy if he were to ask you to be alone together.

“But I worry about you.“, the friend pouted.

You laughed and gently put a hand on her shoulder, “Not everyone meets the love of their life at university.“

In truth, you just didn‘t want your friend to know about your ridiculous crush on Kodzuken. Your heart had almost jumped out of your chest when you first spotted the tell-tale half-dyed ponytail in your class and heard the all too familiar voice during a presentation project. It was silly, really, and you did well pushing your infatuation to the very back of your mind.

After all, whenever you tried to catch a glimpse of him he would look away immediately, making it all too clear that wasn‘t interested in a conversation.

It was no use either way. Your friend wouldn‘t stop pushing until you were social for an evening so you chose your usual - well fitted jeans and a thin, long sleeved sweater to keep the cold and any potential bodily contact to a minimum. Your friend waved when she recognized you getting off the bus. She was already waiting in the arms of her boyfriend with a tower of a guy right next to them, who, when seeing who his set-up was going to be, looked a little disappointed. Oh great.

Kenma felt more pathetic by the second. All day he had tried to work up the courage to catch you in a calm minute to ask you out before your date. If it went well with that guy, chances were he wouldn’t ever let you go (if he knew what was best for him), so this was basically his last opportunity ever. When he didn’t manage to ask during class, then neither during lunch, nor in the library he never went to before, and neither at the bus stop, he thought he might as well face the fact that it wasn’t meant to be. But he found himself a few hours later behind you in the queue at the movie theater, he heard you were planning to go to. He would have to ask now before he’d have to buy a ticket. As he politely waited for a lull in the conversation between you and the Iron Man your friend set you up with, Kenma tried to busy himself with a game on his phone to calm his nerves. But he became so engrossed in a level that he missed his chance and could only watch you walk away with your friends. He should just give up. This was ludicrous.

“One ticket to whatever movie they just went to.”, he said before he could stop himself.

Just turn around. Turn around and leave. Come on.

But his feet had other plans. With the overpriced movie stub in hand, he shuffled to the auditorium and searched in the crowd for you. Unfortunately, the first marker he found was the tall guy next to you, talking to your friend and boyfriend, leaving you to sit quietly and awkwardly to the side.

He walked up the steps and your eyes met. Your cheeks blushed, as did his, and with the confidence of a deflated balloon, he came to a halt next to you, hands in his pockets.

“Hey y/n, I’m Kenma. I’m in your business class.”

“I know.”, you said and he was already relieved. First hurdle down. Now, carefully…

“Do you wanna go to a gaming café together?”

“Wha- right now?”

“I mean, yeah, if you don’t have anything else going on.”, he looked past you to the guy who just stared at him in disbelief and added in appeasement of your date, “Nothing personal.”

You exchanged a look with your friend who was just as shocked as the others and she shrugged. You turned back to Kenma.

“Sure thing.”

He held out his hand, then felt silly doing so and was about to lower it when you grabbed it.

“Lead the way.”, you said brightly and he did.