#I think his room would be tidy and not used very much

[scrumdidiliyumyum]

Something special |||

Yan!Batfam x Neglected!Reader

Prologue - > Part 1 - > Part 2 - > Part 3

How could he have known that you were with your friends?

You sat there for a while, in the cold car with the sudden realization that that man you had quite literally just met knew something he shouldn't have. Were you overthinking it? Were you just to tired to really comprehend the actual situation, your mind instantly going to something more darker and blaming an innocent man?

Maybe you were paranoid, just maybe. He was a vigilante for goodness sakes. He helps people, saves them. He most likely just assumed that you were out and about, hanging out with buds. There wasn't any need to jump to such big conclusions- to make an innocent man the target of your paranoia.

As you sat there, you tried your best to control your breathing, feeling it go out of control every time the thought of him knowing more than he should've creeped back into your mind. Maybe you really were just going crazy for all you knew.

Your hand shakily reached up to the ignition with the key to start the far, you couldn't think about this right now. Not in the middle of who knows where, alone, in a car. You tried, keyword tried, to push it away, to shoo away the bad thoughts until you were in a safer environment to be allowed to do so.

You drove back to the manor, trying to keep your mind in a happy place. Thinking of things to distract yourself, not noticing the skillfully hidden figure watching your vehicle make its way onto the street.

You slowly made your way towards the manor doors, not wanting to go in. God, why didn't you ask to stay over at a friend's house? If anytime was good, now would be, when your head was working against you and you could've used a friend to help you with it all.

Ah.

Your mind went back to a few certain people as you thought that. As much as you would've loved to, staying at a friend's house when some people were, "keeping an eye out on you," Suddenly disappearing probably wouldn't be the smartest move on your part.

You let out a sigh as you slowly opened the doors, looking around for a minute before making the hike up the stairs and back to your room. You kept looking around, at all the little places you memorized from walking through these halls for years. Something you were hoping would change very soon.

You jumped out of your trance as you felt a hand tap on your shoulder, whipping around and coming face to face with Duke who still had a worried look on his face. You opened your mouth to speak, but closed it as he beat you to it.

"Are you alright? I was worried when you disappeared all of a sudden." You held back to urge to roll your eyes, "yeah I'm fine don't worry. Really, there's no reason to be worried." You stood there awkwardly for a second before slowly turning to make your way back to your room.

Duke suddenly put that to a halt as he said, "hey, you shouldn't stress yourself out so much. I know you wanna work hard, but maybe try to relax, yeah?" You looked back at him, trying to think of what to say.

You would've been mad if it was anyone else, should've been mad nonetheless, but you never really knew Duke. He was always nice, and you both were older, teens when you both had first met. Despite everything, he still treated you the kindest.

So you sighed, before fully turning to face him. You softly smiled at him before saying, "thanks Duke, I'll keep that in mind." You patted his arm before walking back to your room trying to ignore the face he made, just wanting to sleep and prepare yourself for whatever tomorrow intailed.

Man you wished that you were old enough to drink.

You adjusted your uniform, tidying up as best as you could. You were a tad bit nervous, more than usual as today was the day you decided to quit a club. You had to step out of your comfort zone, and maybe it wasn't a big deal to some, but for you it was a really big deal.

All the times you had walked through those halls, hoping for something more from the very people that lived there, it hurt more than everything. And it still didnt hurt any less, but you were gonna make it okay, because you did have people to rely on, people who would be there, who would gladly hang up your photos and take time out of their day to be with you.

You wanted more then everything to start doing stuff you liked, be with people you liked, so that's exactly what you were going to do.

You gathered up the rest of your stray items and set them into your bag. Nervous yes, but overall thrilled to be doing this, patting your self before making your way towards your door to get to school.

You looked at a picture from one of the many photo booths you had run into the night before, hung up on your wall of you, Aryan and Ethan, all smiling, happy and making weird faces.

For the first time in awhile going to school didn't seem to hard.

"I'm sorry, I'm what?"

Your debate teachers face scrunched up slightly as he started to explain, "well, you're out, that's it." He paused before continuing, "technically, isn't that what you wanted? So I don't see the problem." You felt nothing but absolute confusion as he said that, slowly processing his words.

You did amazing, was, were, one of the best debaters, you were always helpful, willing to offer a helping hand to those that needed one, inside and outside the class. So what was the problem? Why were you suddenly cut off the team?

Him sighing and gesturing for you to lean in brought back your attention, "look, kid, to be honest, your amazing. But, this other kid, don't really know his name, started with a D? I don't know, but he waltzed in here, saying how he wanted you off the team, and started going on about you and stuff, something like that."

He scratched his head, "usually, I would just shoo people like that off, but he had a signed paper and everything!" He waved his arms around to emphasize the paper, "look, I'm sorry kid, I figured you knew about it since... well, y'know."

You could feel a huge headache coming on, desperately needing a pill. You paused your thoughts as you took what he said to mind. You stumbled on your words, "I- I'm sorry, Damien?" He nodded his head, getting a grim look on his face, "don't get me wrong, I've dealt with some freaky kids, but that one was definitely pretty freakish."

You were about to make your way into another rant, when you decided to leave it as it is. As much as you wanted to fight him on it, you know it wasn't his fault. You took a breath and forced yourself to calm down and smiled at him politely before taking your stuff and storming off, making turns through the halls towards your car.

You were going to talk to him, yell, whatever. Yes, you were going to quit the club, or a club, but just because didn't mean he had the right to butt in. It was your choice to make, one that seemed to be a good one, one that make you excited until you got there only to find out Damien had gotten you kicked out in the first place.

You and Damien never had a close relationship, always having some sort of rift between the two of you no matter what you did to try and repair it. And for once, for once, you decided you were gonna move on, live your own life, and he decides he doesn't want that?

No.

You weren't gonna just let him decide this. This was for you to decide, and you weren't gonna let him make something that should've been a new chapter into something else as he had done one too many times. You really didn't want that to happen right now, especially when this particular thing was supposed to be a turning point for you.

Maybe you were being dramatic, but in all honesty you couldn't care less. Sure, maybe at the base of it all, what you were really mad at was not just this, but all the other times he was ruined things for you, turning stuff that made you happy into stuff that made you cry and sick everytime it entered your sight, the fact that you were always to weak to put a stop to it.

You just hoped that you would be strong enough to tell him this time.

You slowly made your way towards Damien, having searched for him for a good while. You were filled with anger earlier, but it slowly faded away and out of your body once you noticed Dick standing by him.

You didn't know how to confront him with Dick by your side, at most he wouldn't care, right? You hoped with every fiber in your body that they would push whatever you decided on saying to the deep depths of their minds. As you neared them, the moment they took notice of you, you almost had to double back and go throw up from how nervous you were.

But, you held your ground and continued walking until you were infront of them, trying to hide how harshly you were breathing and the mini panic attack you were having on the inside. "Damien, can I talk to you, somewhere private?" You said with as much confidence you could muster. He stared for a moment before responding, "why? We can talk right here."

The small bite in his tone reminded you exactly why you were in this situation in the first place. Taking a deep breath, "fine. Damien, why did you get me kicked out of my club? It's my club, and you shouldn't have to go behind my back to talk to my teacher." You waited, trying your best to ignore Dick just staring at you.

He rubbed his eyes, sighing, before giving you a fierce look, "look, whether you like it or not, you're my sister. What you do directly effects me and father. And I'd rather not have to deal with you passing out in public, with everyone as a witness."

You scoffed at what he said, " your sister? Well whether you like it or not, it's not for you to decide! What I decide to do with my life outside- actually, inside this manor as well, had absolutely nothing to do with you, or anyone else that lives here."

You breathed harshly out of your nose, trying to keep a cool head but failing miserably. You took in a deep breath before starting another rant, " and y'know what Damien? I passed out once why does everyone think I'm suddenly this super fragile person?" -You barely noticed the way he winced from the pure venom of which you spat his name- "I honestly hate-"

Suddenly Dick covered your mouth, pausing after doing so as if not even meaning to. His eyes jolted around for a bit before settling on whispering, "please don't say stuff like that, okay?" You stared at him, pushing his hand off your mouth. "Say what? That I hate your guts? Is that what the problem is?"

He almost looked surprised at the hatred in your voice, before letting out a sigh, "look, I'm sorry okay? You're probably tired, and just need to go lay down-"

You laughed incredulously, absolutely shocked at his words. Had he even been listening? You decided that you had had enough of his- no, enough of their bullshit. It wasn't your job to cater to their every whim.

You decided then and there to just leave. You rubbed hard at your face, as if to try and rid of the tension and unadulterated anger coursing through your body. Was this whole family crazy? You honestly couldn't care less, you were tired, hungry, and just wanted to be somewhere safe.

You suddenly looked at the two annoyed, "I'm gonna stay at a friend's house tonight. Bye!" Quickly turning around, you started to make your way back down where you had come from. You pushed anything they had said out of your head as you tried to mentally retrace your footsteps back.

Because you had already spaced out, you hadn't noticed Dick speading towards you, completely blocking your path. You jumped at him suddenly invading your view, giving him a questioning look. He looked back at Damien a few times before muttering a quick, 'I'm sorry' and snatching your phone out of your hand.

You looked at him incredulously, at this point really wondering if it was all a dream. Dick stood there, trying to convince you to go to your room. "Look, I'm sorry, can you please go back for now? I promise I'll give it back later I just-" He paused as he looked back at Damien, the both of them having a silent conversation.

Suddenly Damien sighed and spoke up, "go away, I need to talk to Dick." You could feel his stare bore into the back of your head. You scoffed and just left, figuring it wasn't worth the fight. Although you wanted to try and grab it, you tried to soothe yourself with the fact that you still had your computer to contact someone- anyone.

Running Walking away, you could faintly hear Damien start to talk to Dick, 'I thought we told you already-' but you quickly pushed it out of your head. All you could think of at the moment was how pissed you were with those two, what was their problem??

Frankly, any other day you wouldn't have left. It was your phone, and they couldn't just suddenly decide to team up and take it away. But, you didn't care anymore, you were done with having nothing to deal with, then now having to deal with everything.

You tried to soothe yourself with the fact that this time tomorrow you would be out of here.

You walked into your room and slammed the door, sliding down against it trying your best to calm down. For all you knew they could've broken it. You mentally beat yourself up for not just snatching the phone back. The thought of that made you remember something as you sprung up, making your way towards your desk.

Pulling multiple draws open before your eyes finally landed on what you were looking for, you quickly grabbed it out, pushing along the few trinkets that resided on top.

Your laptop.

You needed to message someone, maybe Aryan? Would she even answer? Or maybe Ethan, he might-

.

You paused before quickly turning back towards the desk, once again looking through the drawer that held your laptop. You looked through it multiple times, taking everything out before moving towards other drawers.

After moving everything out, looking once again through the mountain of items that sat om your floor, even going as far as any other desks, drawers, hell, your backpack. Yet no matter where you looked, you couldn't find it. Did someone steal it? Did Aryan- or no, even Miss Honey take it?

Where the hell was your camera?

The dim room was faintly lit up by the big computer screen, shining onto nearby objects and the young man who sat at the desk it resided on. He watched the video, taking in every detail of it. The small giggles that got let out every now and then, the way you threw flour at the other girl in the video, laughing and smiling brightly.

Tim looked over the video, and the many others that were on the sim card over and over again. It was so weird- he never really cared about you, still didn't really. Then what was that aching tug in his heart? but nonetheless, seeing you there, no longer the small kid that he could always sense trailing somewhere behind him, it was weird.

He remembers the first time he met you, you coming up to him with a smile, bandages on your knee, hair wild. It was amusing seeing someone so full of life and color in such a desolate and dark manor. With how sleep deprived he was, he genuinely thought for a second that he went to the wrong manor.

But you weren't little, you weren't the same joy filled kid that he ran into so few times. You were older, and because he didn't know you it was easier to just place you as a faceless nobody.

Well, until you were brought to his attention.

It was like a parasite, the way he slowly heard more and more people talking about you, worrying about you. It honestly didn't make sense. You really weren't special, you had a few quirks here and there, but that was about it. What was so different?

After he ransacked your room, looking through drawers and settling on stealing a camera, he connected it to his computer and looked through the contents. There was a mountain of pictures, ranging from sunsets, to photos with friends, to even the beautiful shimmering ocean.(when did you visit the ocean?)

As much as he hated to admit it, he understood where the rest were coming from. The fact that you hadn't ever touched the dark vigilante life- never having the get your hands dirty from another person's blood, it made you so much different than them.

You were human, something to be treasured, to be kept safe and sound. He couldn't help but think of how different you seemed as of late. In the few times he saw you, he saw a quiet wallflower. But now? Seeing you so of life almost made him... admire you in a way.

The humanity you had, having the ability to be happy and share your love with those around you so freely. He could tell from each picture and video he looked at, the way you talked, looked, it made it so clear that you were someone overflowing with love.

And he longed for you to share it with him as well.

Hey guys...long time no see....

(*´Д`)

I wanted to drop this chapter for christmasss!!! Sorry it isn't Christmas themed though (-。-;) Can you guys tell how readers slowly starting to get more pissed off?? I'm VERY excited to not write a breakdown wink wink Anywaysss I've said this a million times but MERRY CHRISTMAS Or HAPPY HOLIDAYS if you dont celebrate SENDING HUGS AND KISSES TAGLIST : @wizzerreblogs, @darktrashpoetry, @daddyissuesehe, @chericia, @iluvcatzz, @fightmebissh, @fionnalopez-blog, @otterluver05, @kitkatkitmeow, @caged-birdies-blog, @ocean-mochi, @tatsuri-zomushiki, @nickey-diano, @nickey-diano, @cloudserenity, @seleneprince, @degenerates-posts, @definitely-not-sammie, @pix-stuff, @nervousalpacalady, @mys0cksrwet, @kore-of-the-underworld, @lilyalone, @alliwantisadonut, @shadowytravlerlover, @dreamsarenicer, @dhanyasri, @blackbirdsblackberries Thank you for the support 💓 I'm going to bed now (´Д` )

[chellestrash]

Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: seeking comfort and company you end up at joel's door warnings: none. word count: 3.1k a/n: i think this is the first thing i wrote this year…so, the quality might not fully be there but i really needed to wite something with Joel. This is just a little one shot that maybe will help someone who needs it

“Hey”

You mumble quietly when the heavy, wooden door to Joel’s big farm house on the outskirts of Jackson opens in front of you. The man leans on the door frame, head slightly tilted to the side, eyebrows pulled together in a slightly confused expression as he looks you up and down quickly, attempting to guess the purpose of your unannounced visit.

“Hey”

His deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body as you stare at each other for another moment. He continues when you don't pick up the conversation like he expected you to do.

“Didn't know you were coming.”

You nod silently as a response.

“Yeah, I...wasn't planning to, just sorta…”

You shrug, not sure how to explain the extremely deep need for his company you feel at this very moment, to the same middle-aged man standing right in front of you.

“...happened.”

Joel nods this time, sniffling quickly as he looks around the front yard. The cool winter breeze hits you both, uncomfortably cutting through your already exhausted body so intently you'd swear you can feel it going through your bones.

“Come on.”

He nods toward the inside of the house, inviting you in before you can say anything else. Without hesitation, you step into the hallway and glance back as he shuts the front door closed behind you.

“So you just happened to be on the other side of Jackson in the middle of a night? In November. Winter.”

Joel stands behind you, arms crossed in front of his chest, his eyes not leaving you even for a moment as you take off your boots, scarf and the thick winter jacket he managed to find for you in one of his supply trips with Tommy a couple of years ago.

You sigh quietly, eyeing him up and down, once again going over how you could try to possibly explain the overwhelming anxiety in your head to Joel Miller.

“I don't know, Joel, I just… I needed to be here?”

That's the best you can do. The best way to put whatever the hell has been happening inside your body lately to him and maybe to yourself as well at this moment.

“Alright.”

He speaks quietly; it's almost a whisper, but loud enough so you can hear him. His body relaxes once he realizes it's not an emergency. No one is dead, no one lost a limb, there's not a hole in the wall somewhere for the runners to get through, everyone is safe, you are safe.

“You want to sit here for a bit?”

He continues, walking over to get your coat before he hangs it up above the heater. The warm air inside his house hugs your body like a thick blanket. Joel was used to rough conditions. He spent most of the years after the outbreak on his own or in smaller groups, sleeping in abandoned buildings, often outside the safe zones or somewhere out in nature. After all that, there was no way in hell he would refuse the luxury of a lit fireplace and a warm house, now that he has settled in Jackson.

“Don't really have much to offer you, though, coffee?”

You breathe out a quiet laugh, watching him quickly tidying up the space around you: kicking his shoes closer to the wall, picking up the one glove that fell on the floor probably hours earlier, or straightening up the coat on one of the hangers.

“Joel, it's almost ten now.”

He frowns, glancing at the big, wooden clock by the stairs before turning back to you.

“And?”

You shake your head, scoffing with a quiet chuckle, and he hums softly, amused with the results of his attempt to cheer you up slightly.

“Well, was gonna get myself a cup anyway.”

He gestures toward the kitchen, and you think over the offer again.

“Alright, but a small one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He nods again, a small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, before making his way over to the other room.

Being left alone now, you shut your eyes and attempt to take a deep breath in, doing your best to calm your body down. It is shallow and short, it won't help, and you know it. However, you still try to push this overwhelming feeling away. You try to focus on the things around you, redirecting your attention to something outside your panicked brain. It's just this heavy, tightening feeling in the center of your chest or deep down in your stomach. You can't shake it. You can't make it go away this time, no matter how hard you try. That's why you came here in the first place. That's why you walked almost the whole length of Jackson at his hour and on your own. That's why you sought him. That's why the only thought on your mind with every step you took was, “please be home.”

“Hey.”

You shake your head, blinking a couple of times before it comes to you.

“Oh, shit sorry.”

Reaching out slowly, you wrap your fingers around the ear of the cup and smile softly as a thank you, the smile never reaching your tired eyes.

“Thank you.”

You mumble, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Yeah.”

He starts, his eyebrow raised slightly as he does his best to estimate the situation. He knows something's off, you're acting different, you're quiet, and your demeanor is different, almost as if...muffled for some reason.

The silence is long, longer than you would've liked, you know he can tell something's off, you know you're not doing the best job at holding it all together and as your brain continues to fight itself on the matter of whether you'd prefer to tell him everything or that he wouldn't know anything was wrong you do yourself a favor and open your mouth to the first thing that comes into your head.

“You ever get that new rifle?”

His eyes widen slightly at the question, like he wasn't expecting it; he wasn't. But it was the only thing you could think about that could save you from attempting to most likely over-explain whatever the hell was happening to your body and mind on this godforsaken day.

“The one from Jimmy?”

He gives in, and you sigh, relived.

“Yeah, the one you were supposed to carve the handle for?”

He shuts his eyes with a soft nod and a quiet hum.

“Mhm.”

You glance up the stairs, towards the bedroom where you saw he keeps his guns, and he turns to follow your gaze.

“Did you want to see it?”

“Sure.”

He gestures to the stairs, letting you pass by and walk in front of him. You don't say much more for a bit, somehow there's this silent understanding between both of you, he somehow understands the situation, without fully knowing it. That's why he's not asking, he's not drilling into you like some people would, he does not want to force the answers out of you. What he knows is that you needed to be here, and that is enough.

Stepping into the bedroom, you smile softly to yourself as your eyes scan the familiar space. It's comforting, it's safe, you know it. The half-made bed takes up almost half of the room, the grand painting of wild horses resting above the wooden headboard. He finally hung it up.

Joel walks past you, it feels natural now for you to occupy this space, it is almost as if he feels comfortable with you being there, more than when he's alone. After setting his cup down on the nightstand closer to you, Joel makes his way over to the big closet door.

“Didn't get the chance to clean it yet.”

He explains, reaching for the rifle through the hanging clothes as you sit at the edge of the bed, your back turned to him, waiting to see the weapon.

“Here.”

He holds the barrel towards himself and away from you as he hands you the rifle over your shoulder.

“Holy shit, Joel.”

You exclaim, setting down your cup next to him before taking the weapon in your hand. Your thumb runs over the detailed carving on the light wood. The mountain and trees with a deer bust chiseled carefully into the rings of the wood.

“She's beautiful.”

“Yeah, you think?”

The man asks, sitting down next to you with a loud grunt.

“Yeah, look at it, goddamn it, that must've taken weeks.”

“Eh,”

He shrugs, showing how much he disagrees with your statement.

“Took more patience than time.”

He explains as you drag your fingers over the handle, astonished by the details he managed to transfer into the rough material.

“Still needs some work, and care…she's in a rough shape.”

“Yeah…”

You listen to him explain the process to you and you let him talk. It's not like you haven't seen him working on different commissions before. But you want it, you need it, his voice so comforting, you wish it could be the background noise for your life as you go about your days.

After carefully resting the gun against the wall, you admire it for another moment. Your thoughts wander as you realize how aware your body has become of Joel’s presence so close to you. You can smell his scent so vividly now, you can feel the heat radiating off of his body, the touch you long for so strongly.

“Yeah…gotta clean the metal, you know, don't want it rustin. The wood needs some oil too, maybe some stain so it'll look properly and not like every other-”

He doesn't get to finish the sentence, cut off by your lips crashing against his the second you turn back in his direction. Your hands fly up to his face and you hold him right there, so close to you now. He lets you lead, his eyes shut, his lips following yours as he grunts loudly into the kiss. The soft scent of his body surrounds you when he leans forward and draws closer to you. Quickly raising his hand, he rests his palm against the back of your head, pulling you even deeper into the kiss.

You pull away after a moment, resting your forehead against his while you catch your breath and reach for the buttons of his old jeans.

Joel follows your gaze, wrapping his fingers around your wrist almost immediately. There are no words shared between you, but you look up into his eyes, panting after the prolonged kiss. You take a few short breaths before he lets go of your hand.

Not taking his eyes off of you, and without a single word, Joel takes the lead now. Leaning back against the wooden headboard of his massive bed, he guides you closer to him, pulling on your wrist gently to suggest you follow. And you do. Turing to face him before throwing your knee over his legs, you let him hold onto your hips. His big, working hands resting on both sides of your lower body now, his eyes scanning your face for any clue of what this whole thing meant. It's been a while since you two slept with each other. It was never anything exclusive, never really anything to make a big deal about; however, to be completely honest, it was never entirely casual either. Relationships got a bit complicated for some people after the outbreak. And for people like Joel? They always were.

“You sure you want-”

He starts, but you muffle the words, quickly pressing your hand to his lips.

“Don't.”

The whisper slips past your lips, and you drop your hand, now slowly leaning down and closer to him. There is not a single thought in your head beside that you need this, you need comfort, you need his touch; you need his body against yours. You need him. Joel watches as you move in closer and closer, his eyes glancing down at your lips occasionally, his hands passively resting at your sides. There is no push, no lead from him anymore, you have the floor, and he wants this to be how you want it or how you're convinced you want it.

Now more hesitant, you stop. Your lips almost brushing against his, your chest resting on top of him, your body rising and falling gently with his every breath.

Once again, the choice is yours. With your gaze dropping, you focus on his lips again.

Shutting your eyes quickly, you lean into him, searching for the comfort in the desperate act of intimacy. It feels different from before, when you used to see each other more regularly. Your body, despite the familiar setting, feels tense, as does his. The anxiety not leaving your chest even for a moment, despite how hard you try to get rid of the feeling. But you want this, you need this, the closure, the distraction, the company.

You tilt your head to the side, deepening the kiss, and his hand moves from the side of your hips to your lower back, his lips never following yours.

You know he can feel it too, you know you can't hide it, not from Joel, he knows you too well. There is no give in the kiss, his body does not respond to you, it is as if he wants you alone to realize what he already knows.

You move away, breaking the kiss as you pull back quickly. There's a moment of silence when you both stare at each other, not sure what the reaction will be for the other person, not sure what is meant to happen now. The stinging sensation behind your eyes grows stronger as you feel your chest tightening, your chin trembles, and your lips part. A shaky inhale gives away the current state of your mind and there's nothing you can do to try to hide it now.

He doesn't say a word—there's no question, no confronting, no confusion or frustration. Once the tears flow to your eyes, and you turn away, shutting them in a desperate attempt to stop this, he finally speaks.

“It's okay, you're okay.”

His quiet, gentle voice is enough for you to crumble this time.

You sob loudly, covering your face with the palms of your hands. You allow Joel to pull you down and onto his chest, where you bury your face into the fabric of his shirt. Curling up into a ball, you let your body tense up on top of him. You let yourself feel the anxiety within the tension, feel everything, for the first time in so long you can't remember it properly. With tears streaming down your face, you rest on top of Joel. Your head pulled into your shoulder, your legs pressed against his chest, his hand resting firmly on your back. He adds to the pressure, feeling your body shaking with the sobs. The overwhelming need to let all the built-up tension out doesn't allow you to really think through what you're doing. It just happens and you can't stop it, not this time.

Joel shuts his eyes at your shaky inhale, rubbing his big hand over your back in an attempt to comfort you slightly. He’s not really sure what to, he has never really been great at this. Vulnerability, or the desperation of the display of emotions, was never something he was in tune with. It was definitely better if the emotions on display weren't his, it helped that he didn't have to think about himself. Worrying about others is always easier than worrying about yourself. Still, he always felt inadequate to provide any sort of comfort.

With shaking shoulders, trembling chest and cheeks wet from the tears, you clutch onto the fabric of his dark navy blue shirt when the tension becomes too overbearing to handle. He wraps his arms tight around your body. Your chest and throat hurt as you unsuccessfully attempt to calm yourself down, choking on your own tears.

“Shh, shh, I have you. I have you, babygirl.”

His gentle words make you lose whatever composure was somehow left within your body, and as your tears drip onto the fabric of his shirt, Joel moves his hand from your back up to the back of your head. Pressing a gentle kiss against the side of your head, he holds onto you like this for a moment before brushing his palm over your hair. He continues the movement from that point on, the slow, repeating sensation bringing you the desperately needed comfort. It takes a while for the feelings that turned out too strong for you to handle to slowly wither away. A long moment somehow stretched out in this otherwise calm, ordinary night in the small city of Jackson. The lights illuminating the main streets dim behind the window of Joel's bedroom when you finally feel like no tears remain behind your eyes anymore. With a loud sniffle, you snuggle your face into his chest, still curled up into a ball but now, attempting some deep breaths to calm yourself down. The pounding of your heart slowly softens deep within your chest.

Joel rubs his fingers against your arm slowly, gently moving his hand up and down against your skin. Your body so exhausted now, finding comfort within the gentle touch of this, some people would say, violent man's hands.

No words are spoken as you reach up, wrapping your arms loosely around the back of his neck. Another quiet sniffle as you pull yourself up on his chest slightly. With your face hidden in the crook of his neck, hidden from the world, finally provided with the comfort you've longed for weeks now, you let out a deep sigh. Joel feels your body relax in his arms, feels the tension fleeing from your limbs, your chest, and lungs as you slack on top of his body.

Holding onto you, he adjusts his position slightly, his hands gently rubbing over the back of your neck and down your shoulders.

Shifting gently with the movements of his chest, you feel your eyelids growing heavier. Your body, your insides, your brain are all exhausted from the loss of control over yourself. Tilting your head up slightly, you glance up at Joel. There's a second when you both stare into each other's eyes before he looks away, leaning down as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some rest.”

He mumbles, the sound of the words rumbling in his chest. And with those words, hidden in his arms, with his heart beating gently against yours, for the first time in weeks you feel at peace, you feel safe, you feel at home.

[azelsdoormat]

Azel Radwan Main Story

► Chapter 1

This translation is fanmade and strictly for entertainment purposes only. All media and original content belong to Cybird. Do not use, claim as your own, repost or reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

I still don’t know what love is. 

But I want to someday fall in love and understand what it is. 

A passionate love like a rose set ablaze, and a fierce love that stays on for eternity like a woven tale. 

???: I see, I see…

???: How utterly laughable.

(... Who is that?) 

The usual dream I had every night changed the night before I set out on my trip to a foreign country.

It was set in a rose garden where the roses were still tightly closed buds. The space felt undeveloped and incomplete.

There stood an unfamiliar visitor, reading an unfinished tale from a book placed on an oak table.

His appearance was otherworldly, unlike that of any ordinary person.

His hair shimmered under the light of the massive moon hanging from the sky, and his eyes seemed to contain a starry sky within.

That divine, beautiful being who seemed to blend well with the dream’s space gave me a mocking grin as I approached.

Emma: What’s… laughable?

???: I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and thirsts for knowledge of what it is.

???: Love is not the grand blessing it is often proclaimed to be. 

???: Sometimes, it would serve you well to remain ignorant and pure for your entire life. You would find far greater happiness that way.

I didn't know what he read from that unfinished tale. 

But this “something”, who clearly wasn't human, directly and utterly rejected what laid at the very core of my heart. 

Emma: And how can you be so sure of that?

???: Because I am a god. 

(... God?) 

???: I have witnessed many examples of “love”. Not in fiction… but rather the raw, unvarnished love that exists in.

???: Far too often, people use “love” as a means to justify their otherwise unjustifiable actions.

???: It is truly tragic to see people driven mad by love.

???: Even the most rational people become unable to live without it.

???: Like a curse.

Emma: …

???: Judging from this dreamscape shrouded in thorns, you must be a lady from Rhodolite.

???: Rhodolite had such a tale too, did it not? About a king who turned into a beast after losing his beloved. 

Emma: … While the story of the late Belle and the king may have been a tragedy, that doesn't mean all love must end the same way. 

???: Fair enough. However, not all love will end as a comedy either. 

???: Why do you yearn for love? 

Words caught in my throat upon hearing the god’s question.

There was no special reason for my yearning. 

It was nothing more than mere admiration, I had never deeply thought about what love truly meant. 

For the first time, I realised that my yearning was but an empty shell.

???: At the very least, love is something I would very much rather do without.

???: — For I am a god incapable of loving people. 

…

(……ん……)

(... Mm…)

Awaken by gentle sunlight streaming through the window, I opened my eyes to see the familiar ceiling of my room in town.

The unbloomed roses and the god who denied love both vanished as though they were nothing more than an illusion.

As I woke up, memories of the dream began crumbling away and were gradually replaced by reality. 

But a fragment of that dream lingered in my heart, refusing to disappear.

(“Love is a curse”... huh.) 

???: Emma, you up? 

A knock on my door banished the remaining drowsiness from my mind.

(This voice… Rio?)

Emma: Sorry, just a minute!

???: Ah, no worries. I’m a gentleman, I’ll wait for as long as you need.

(... I think I just heard a voice that wasn't Rio’s…)

Feeling slightly uneasy, I hurriedly got dressed, washed my face, and tidied myself up before opening the door. 

…

Standing at my front door was my friend, who left his position as a butler to return to town with me, greeting me with his ever so radiant smile. 

Rio: Good morning! You’re absolutely adorable today, as always!

Emma: Yeah, yeah, thanks as usual.

Emma: … What brings you here this early in the morning?

Rio: I came to visit because I just had to see your face.

Rio: And I bought bread. Want to enjoy it together? 

Emma: Thanks, I’d love to. Mmm, smells good…

Rio: It’s from your favourite bakery. They launched a new “fortune bread” today.

Emma: Fortune bread? That’s interesting! 

Clavis: Wait, wait, Emma. We have some more important matters to focus on than bread right now, don't we?

A man forced himself between us and snatched the bag of bread.

(So I wasn't imagining things when I thought I heard another voice.)

I stopped avoiding reality as a means of self-defence and turned to face the country’s most notorious troublemaker— a certain prince with a shady smile. 

Emma: It’s been a while, Clavis. 

Clavis: You could've jumped straight into my arms right off the bat, you know?

Emma: Thank you for kind consideration. Why are you here?

Clavis: Hmm, what do you think?

???: Enough with the theatrics and just tell her already. 

(Huh…?) 

My eyes widened when I saw a tall figure sitting on a wooden crate some distance away.

Emma: Luke’s here too!?

Luke: Oops. My bad, I invited myself into the conversation too early.

Rio: I coincidentally ran into Clavis and Luke earlier on.

Rio: Though, they didn't tell me what they’re here for… 

(I was just thinking it was rare for Rio to come visit me so early in the morning… maybe he’s worried about me.)

Luke stood up from the wooden crate and raised the paper bag he had in his hand.

Luke: Mind if we join you for breakfast?

…

My modest home where I, a commoner, lived was now filled with two princes and my former butler friend…

Our surroundings were both physically and emotionally stuffy. 

Clavis: Emma, you’re heading to Tanzanite soon, right? 

Rio: Ugh… 

The freshly baked bread, along with the sweets Luke brought, bounced slightly when Rio hit his head against a corner of the table.

Clavis: What's the matter?

Rio: … I lose control of myself whenever I hear about that.

Rio: The thought of not being able to see my angel, my goddess, my beautiful fairy Emma… 

Luke: You’re such a drama queen.

(When I first told Rio about my trip, he was completely broken. I guess this counts as an improvement.) 

[ Flashback ] 

Rio: — Emma’s going to Tanzanite…

Emma: Rio, are you okay!? You hit your head on the bookshelf really hard…

Rio: I’m okay… but… why… 

Emma: I’ve heard many stories about foreign countries from the Owner, but I’m most interested in the god who can perform infallible divinations. 

Emma: If such a god really exists, I’d like to meet them even just once. 

Emma: Besides, Tanzanite’s a popular tourist destination. 

Emma: It’s a country in the dessert, but I think it's a good choice of destination for my first trip. 

[ Flashback End ]

(I feel bad for nearly causing Rio to pass out, but…)

(I’ve been really excited every day ever since deciding to travel to Tanzanite.)

Luke: I’m surprised you’re not going with her. 

Rio: The Owner told me to look after the bookstore while she’s away. 

Rio: I really do want to go with her!! What if something happens to her when I’m not there…!? 

Rio: But if staying behind will help Emma feel more at ease on her trip, then I… I’ll… 

Clavis: Haha, you can be rest assured about that. 

Clavis tore off a piece of the bread in his hand and ate it, savouring it in delight before swallowing. 

Clavis: Because we’ll be her bodyguards in your place.

Rio: Oh, is that true? Thank goodness, I feel relieved—

Rio: — Wait, that won’t do—! What is that supposed to mean!? 

(Seriously, what does he mean by that!?) 

I almost dropped my fortune bread but managed to catch it in a panic. 

Clavis: I mean exactly what I said. 

Luke: We’re going to Tanzanite too. 

Luke stuffed a whole honey-coated pastry in his mouth and licked his fingers.

Luke: I didn't wanna go at first because it’s too bothersome, but Chevalier ordered me to take care of some diplomatic matters.

(Going to Tanzanite during this period of time means…)

[ Flashback ] 

Akatsuki: Politics have been unstable lately.

Emma: Is it because of… the Three-Nation  Alliance?

Akatsuki: Yeah. None of the countries have made any moves at the moment, but this feels like the calm before a storm. 

[ Flashback End ]

(... I’m an outsider now, so it’s best for me to refrain from getting involved.) 

Clavis: Since we’re all leaving for Tanzanite at around the same time, why don't you come with us?

Clavis: We plan to take the route that passes through Benitoite. If you ride on the royal ship, your transportation is basically free. 

Clavis: I can already picture you crying tears of joy. Ah, you don't even have to say it, I already know.

Clavis: You’re so lucky to have the privilege of travelling to a foreign country with your beloved Clavis— 

Rio: OBJECTION! 

Rio shot up from his seat with a start in the cramped room and pointed a finger at Clavis.

Rio: People always say that there's nothing scarier than something that comes free. What's your real motive? Out with it. 

(As expected of Rio. That’s what I want to know too.)

Clavis took a deliberate sip of the tea I brewed and paused as though to savour it…

His wet lips then curled into a meaningful and bold smile.

Clavis: What do you think?

Luke: Don't say such things that mess with people. There's no deeper meaning at all. 

Clavis: Read the room, Luke. 

Luke: You read the room. 

Luke: This guy ordered every official to report anything interesting about Emma to him. 

Emma: So you were made aware of my trip to Tanzanite because…

Luke: The official who issued your travel permit ratted you out. 

Emma: Is that not abuse of power!? 

Clavis: What are you talking about? It’s for work.

Luke: This guy found out about your first ever trip and got all “amused” by it. 

Luke: He even volunteered to personally make a trip to Tanzanite, and I got stuck with the job of babysitting him thanks to Nokto. 

Luke: He said “I feel bad for Emma, so I’ll send at least one sensible person to go along”. 

(Thanks, Nokto!) 

Luke: But if you’d rather not deal with his crap, I’ll take personal responsibility to bury Clavis in the woods for you. 

Clavis: No need to worry about that. Emma is shaking with excitement, isn't she?

Luke: … You should get your eyes checked out before we leave the country.

Rio … I’m worried. I’m very worried.

(Since I’m not travelling alone, I should probably discuss this with the Owner…) 

(But with both Clavis and Luke accompanying me, having familiar faces in an unfamiliar land does make me feel more assured.)

After mulling it over, I furrowed my brows and tore the fortune bread in half.

Emma: Oh?

(Something fell out from inside.)

It was a small porcelain figurine that resembled a horse with a horn, standing proudly in my palm. 

Rio: As expected of Emma! You hit the jackpot.

Clavis: Hm… the unicorn is indeed currently considered the continent-wide ultimate symbol of “good luck”. 

Emma: Is that so?

Clavis: Yeah. You should keep it as a good luck charm. What a great start to your journey. 

Clavis: After all, unicorns hold a special symbolism in a country in the desert. 

(I don't exactly associate unicorns with deserts, though…) 

Emma: If that’s the case, it does seem like it’ll bring me blessings.

Luke: You’re always a good person, anyway. Even without a unicorn, I bet lots of positive things will happen to you. 

I gently cupped the unicorn figurine in my hand. 

The unexpected stroke of luck felt encouraging, like it was telling me that my current most honest feelings were right. 

Clavis: So, Emma, you’re travelling together with us, right…? 

…

The gateway to Tanzanite, the country of deserts, divinations and illusions was a bustling port thriving with merchants, much like Benitoite. 

…

Emma: We’re in Tanzanite! 

(Although… I expected more sandstorms because I was told that it’s in a desert.) 

The lively streets looked nothing like a desert.

However, the animals roaming the streets and the people’s clothing were clearly distinct from those in Rhodolite or Benitoite. 

Along with the scent of spices wafting through the air, it was undeniable that we were now on foreign land. 

(We’ve really come a long way.)

Akatsuki: Our destination is still far from here. It’s too early to get excited. 

The Owner, carrying loads of goods for trading, came to stand next to me. 

I was carrying a bag filled with books myself, but it was nothing compared to his load. 

Emma: Should I help carry some of that?

Akatsuki: No need. I usually carry it all by myself.

(That's easily 100 books over there… I can't believe he carries them alone.) 

Clavis: We offered to help too, but Akatsuki sure is hardworking.

Luke: I told Emma I’d help carry her stuff too. 

Clavis and Luke whom we travelled on the same ship with packed lightly as compared to us. 

Emma: Thanks. But since this is my first time sourcing for goods, I want to carry my own baggage. 

Emma: Selling books in a foreign country and purchasing new ones…

Emma: I’m so excited to see how greatly my bag’s contents will change on the way back to Rhodolite.

Luke: Someone’s being really energetic.

Clavis: Akatsuki is lucky to have such a good assistant too.

Clavis: By the way, where are you two headed to after this?

Akatsuki: We’re meeting someone.

Emma: … We are? 

I followed the Owner’s gaze that shifted unnaturally and saw a strikingly beautiful woman standing there. 

(Wow…) 

She wore vibrant ruby red clothing and was adorned in glamorous accessories that rivaled the Owner’s outfit. 

Standing next to her was a bespectacled man with a gentle appearance. He smiled when he noticed us and approached.

Bespectacled Man: We’ve been expecting you, Akatsuki. And this is…?

Emma: I’m Emma, I came as the Owner’s assistant. 

Basil: Ah, I read about you in the letter. A pleasure to meet you, please call me Basil. 

Basil: And this lady over here is Kamal.

Kamal: …

Kamal smiled seductively and pulled out a stack of papers from which she showed me a piece with the words “it’s nice to meet you” written on it. 

Basil: As you can see, Kamal can’t speak. Please communicate with her through writing. 

(I see…)

Emma: Understood. I look forward to working with you both.

Clavis: … Hm.

As we exchanged pleasantries, Clavis stood nearby rubbing his chin. 

Clavis: You must be emissaries of the living god, correct? 

(... Huh?)

Basil: Well done! You noticed right away. 

Clavis: The symbols of faith you wear make it easy to figure out. 

Clavis pointed at his own chest.

Basil and Kamal gestured to their chests too, where the clasps of their cloaks were fastened. 

(... Now that I took a proper look at them, the clasps have unicorns on them.)

(Are those the “symbols of faith”?) 

Clavis: I was told in the past that the unicorn ornaments are worn by those who are close to god. 

Clavis: And a few years ago, I recall hearing about a book merchant Azel especially favoured. 

Clavis: I had my suspicions, but it seems that Akatsuki has some rather prominent clients. 

Emma: Is god… one of your clients? 

Akatsuki: Regardless of whether they’re god or royalty, a client is a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

(He never mentioned this to me!)

The Owner whose facial expression remained unchanged suddenly appeared far more impressive than I had initially thought of him to be. 

Basil: We have always been the ones to guide Akatsuki during his visits to Tanzanite. 

Basil: Prince Clavis, Prince Luke, please proceed in that direction. Emissaries from the Royal Court are waiting for you. 

Clavis: Haha, not only for me but for Luke the newcomer too? How insightful indeed. 

Clavis: Rhodolite didn’t send any prior notice about who would be coming. Is this another prophecy from the living god? 

(...!) 

Basil: That’s correct. Lord Azel is truly impressive. Is this a good time to talk about it? It is, right?

(He suddenly started speaking really fast…) 

Kamal mercilessly smacked Basil on the head as he adjusted his glasses. 

She then took out her stack of papers again and showed us the one that said “let’s go”. 

(... That sounded like she hit hard enough to crack his skull. Is he okay?) 

Luke: Then I guess this is where we go our own ways.

Clavis: I’ll personally come to meet you again, Emma. Before you start crying from loneliness. 

Emma: I don't think I will, but until next time. 

(So… we’re going straight to meet the god now, right?)

(I’m starting to get nervous.)

(I wonder what kind of person a living god is like.)

…

Azel: Thank you for taking the trouble to come all the way out to such a remote location.

Emma: Oh!

[i9messi]

can you do an ollie bearman comfort fic?? Maybe reader is stressed and overwhelmed by uni or smth else you do whatever you want with that

Peace — Ollie Bearman

Focusing too much on your finals had made you feel anxious, so your boyfriend Ollie comes to your bedroom to help.

Word count — 1,3k

note: ollie calling baby to reader makes me feel things. feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

MASTERLIST

The smell of candles made the room smell incredibly good, but nothing was useful to calm your own destructive thoughts. You were very close to a final exam and the anxiety made you feel like the worst. You could hardly sleep well and rest as you deserved.

You had cancelled your dates with your boyfriend and your meetings with your friends. Your final was important and you were too focused on it. Who cared if you were nice, if you failed your finals?

You didn’t totally believe in fate or good vibes. Yes, you could trust that fate would be on your side and manifesting a passing grade might be important, but it was also important to study until your eyes were tired and you fell asleep with pure tiredness. As extreme as it sounds.

Your phone started ringing and that made you lose focus from the screen. You read the name on your cell phone, it was your boyfriend, Ollie. Knowing it was perhaps important, you answered the call before it rang a second time.

“Ollie? Something happened?”

“Hi, baby. I just missed hearing your voice.”

You smiled. Lately you were being a little mean with him, canceling your plans and dates with him. His voice brought a moment of peace when you needed it most. Ollie gave you peace.

“I also missed hearing your voice but I’m studying, I have a final.”

“Stress about Uni won’t do you any good, baby.”

You knew it, you also knew your boyfriend wanted the best for you.

“Ollie, I have to keep studying. Can we talk later?”

“When will I see you again? I miss you badly.”

“I don’t know. I miss you too."

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

When the call ended, you continued studying. Time passed, that same night you fell asleep on your desk and woke up with an incredible neck pain. Sometimes it was most useful for you to study at night, so it was barely seven pm when you locked yourself back in your room to study. Your roomie was in her room getting ready to party.

You heard the bell ring. You assumed it was a visit for your roommate. A couple of seconds later, you heard footsteps and a noise in the door. You got up and came to see who it was.

Right there was Ollie, with a teddy bear in his arms.

“Ollie, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, Ollie, I'm so happy to see you.” He joked, a little sarcastically.

“I love seeing you, really. I just didn’t know you were coming. Come on in.”

He came into your room and you realized it was a mess. The only thing that was tidy was your bed, since you had not spent the night sleeping peacefully on the mattress. Your desk was a combination of Red Bulls, empty coffee cups and snacks that was useful to you to keep you awake. The rest were books, notes and sheets of paper with the content you had to study for the exam.

“You need to take this easy.”

“I know, but you know me and you know I become a little too obsessive when I'm studying.”

He grabbed your hand and led you to bed, where he sat you on his lap.

“Listen to me, baby.”

“I listen, Ollie.”

“I know you’re a good student and you will get a good grade, but you have to remember that it’s just an exam. You are much more than a number on a piece of paper, you are more than what your professor thinks you are worth. I know how hard you work for your goals and how brave you are. So, please, at least for a few hours forget about your final and stay with me.”

“Ollie…”

“I brought you a bear.”

He offered the teddy bear to you. You grabbed it, it was brown and adorable. It wasn't the first bear your boyfriend gave you, nor would it be the last. Ollie loved to give you bears of all colors available and types, in your room you had a lot of them.

“Thank you, it's so cute. Cute like you.”

Ollie smiled and you grabbed the bear, it smelled like your boyfriend.

“Can we just lie down in your bed and cuddle?”

His brown eyes looked at you. You couldn’t say no, not when your body was so tired and you had missed him so much during those days when you barely talked.

“You don't need to ask, yes.”

And you did, you laid on bed and he hugged you from behind. You also hugged the teddy bear.

“Tell me what’s bothering you.” He muttered in your ear.

“I guess I’m just scared to forget some important information and go blank.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“What if it happens?”

“I don’t think your professor is a ruthless being who feeds on the blood of the innocent.”

You laughed.

“You should see how he gets when someone says a wrong answer, sometimes he scares me. I swear he gets more and more bold every class, all because of his poor nerves.”

“You will pass your final, silly.”

You turned, getting face to face with your boyfriend. You saw him so close and you came closer up to his mouth and left a sweet kiss on his lips. Ollie smiled in the middle of the kiss.

“We could watch an episode of Glee. I know you're watching it.”

“Uhmm, interesting proposal. I accept.”

With a smile on your face, you took your laptop and searched until you chose the episode you wanted. You put the computer in a comfortable place, where you and Ollie could see it quietly.

“Baby?”

“Yes?”

“I love you and I don’t want you to think for a second that you’re alone in this. I’ll be here whenever you need me. If you need someone to talk with, someone to watch tv shows or even someone to cuddle after studying. I'm here, always.”

You couldn’t stop yourself and kissed his lips. Ollie put a hand on your cheek.

“I love you so much.”

The episode of the show continued, you were so excited to be with your boyfriend that you forgot for a second the pressure of the exam. With Ollie by your side, caressing your hair and leaving kisses on your forehead was enough to be at peace.

“Go bathe and I’ll bring you food.” he suggested, once the episode was over.

“Are you saying I smell?”

Ollie just laughed.

“I’m not implying anything.”

“Fine, I’m gonna go take a bath.”

You went to your bathroom, while your boyfriend left the bedroom to cook something fast. The shower served to relax you, the pressure that you had on your shoulders felt much lighter. You put on your favorite pajamas and left the bathroom, where you found Ollie in the kitchen finishing up his food.

“Your roomie has already left, she said please don’t forget to water the plants.”

“Okay, alright.”

He brought the food onto the table, “I made pasta.”

“Smells incredible.”

Both ate in silence, something you liked about your boyfriend was that he respected the moments when you didn’t want to talk too much. Now that you were in a period full of exams, your mind was too busy to want to talk a lot. With the right words, you and Ollie dined in peace.

When you finished eating, Ollie stood up and put everything in place. Your eyes suddenly closed with exhaustion.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

You walked to your bedroom and you went to bed, repeating the same sequence of before. Ollie hugged you from behind and you hugged the teddy bear he gave you.

“Get some rest, you deserve it.”

“I feel like my mind is going to keep solving exercises while sleeping.”

“We can study tomorrow morning, I’ll help you.”

Knowing him, you knew he would keep his promise.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ollie. I was so stressed— I love you.”

“And I love you, baby. You're not alone in anything.”

[glazedcroissant]

Meta knight's abode

[chaussetteblanche]

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

[beloveds-embrace]

More roomate!au thoughts because, again, my brain never stops. When you move in with them, dont expect to be able to do anything by yourself ever again (unless its housework and their away), your car needs fuel? Dont worry Simon will go with you and fill it up for you and dont even think about trying to pay for it yourself, you tried once and Simon just glared at you so you tucked your card back into your purse. You need to go get a few supplies for college, Price and Gaz are joining you and giving their opinions about the best laptop to get or the best stationary (they fill out enough paperwork that they know the best ones). You're cooking them dinner, Johnnys right by your side following your every order and helping to wash up while you go relax on the sofa waiting for whatevers in the oven. And you will want for nothing, you see a pair of shoes you want while out shopping but their outside of your price range, they arrive at your door a week later just after the boys deploy, you see a pretty necklace on TV and comment on it, Johnnys there behind you fastening it just before your next night out. You lament that your mattess and bed are uncomfortable, a new one arrives the next and it just so happens to be big enough to fit all 5 of you on it.

Yeah, the boys would 1000% give you princess treatment

My mind is still on that drabble so i absolutely love this so so so very much god yes….

Original post

It doesn’t end there, of course. God, they do so, so much for you.

It’s Simon who stands right outside the bathroom door when you get sick late at night, trying to be quiet and not bother anyone yet when you tell him he should go to sleep, you’ll be fine, he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“Don’t need sleep,” he grunts, pulling you against his body. Despite your protests, his warmth alone makes you melt. “Jus’ tell me what you need.”

It’s Gaz who gifts you with a surprise spa day kit after he notices how exhausted you look during your exams, gently pushing aside your laptop. “You look knackered, lovie,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you, alright? You always spoil us when we return anyways, this the least we can do.”

It’s Johnny who immediately knows your day has been shit just from listening the way you shuffle in, shoulders slumped and head downcast.

“Someone steal yer sunshine, hen?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, Johnny,” you mumble tiredly, yet you have no energy to refuse when he leads you to the couch. “Bad day. I’ll just go to my room-“

“Nah, none o’ that,” he shakes his head, taking your bag. “Sit down, aye? I’ll fix you up something warm.” Though he makes sure to drap a blanket over yours shoulders before he goes into the kitchen, muttering about food.

It’s Price who goes hand in hand with your safety. All of them do make you feel safe but John is just- a bit different.

Once, you were being followed after you finished shopping and like an idiot, you’d forgotten your usual pepper spray you carried. You knew you were being followed because you could feel the eyes constantly on you and you circled the same area several times. Your hands are shaking when you text him, praying to every god-

- john

- Yes, love?

You are too afraid to even crack a smile at his serious punctuation.

- someones following me idk what to d

You don’t wait for him to reply. Just nervously, with too many typos, you tell him where you are and if please can he come or any of the men-

When John appears by your side in no less than five minutes, he just pulls you close to his side.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He ushers you along. “Bloke’s been dealt with. Give me your backs, yeah? Next time tell me or any of the muppets to join you.”

Too late you notice the blood splatters on his knuckles.

Also, remember when I said the original ad had been because they wanted someone to keep the place tidy when they are away? That doesn’t apply when they are home. If they see you cleaning or cooking, they are helping- nu uh, no complaints allowed, they are not about to let you slave away when you have four very capable men at your beck and call.

Hell, once it was Johnny who saw you scrubbing the kitchen floors and he just picked you up and placed you on the counter, tsking at you.

In a few hours, John returned to find all of them cleaning the kitchen; Soap was now dusting, Gaz vaccuming, and Simon wiping the counters.

And you were bundled in the couch corner, cozy and cute.

“What’s all this?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and you shrug.

“She was tryin’ to clean.” Johnny grumbled from the corner.

“And you didn’t stop her sooner?”

“Bloody stubborn bird,” Ghost was the one who replied this time, not even looking up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look John fixed you with made you shut your mouth with a click.

“Good girl.”

The warmth on your cheeks was definitely not from overworking, at least.

You mention needing new clothes? You wake up to Simon’s credit card on your nightstand with a note ordering you to use it. “Strangely”, you can’t find neither your own card nor your wallet.

You also can’t find him, but Kyle’s there and oh wow! He has nothing to do so he will in fact be joining you (and making you model the dresses and outfits and send pictures to the others so you can be drowned in compliments)!

Also i like to hc that john(s) are both huge coffee lovers and they do in fact have those huge, fancy coffee machines yk? They are insulted when they see you drink the cheap, shitty, tasteless instant coffee you are surviving on and from then on, you will wake up every day to warm, fresh coffee made for you <33

Anyways gods i love them sm can you tell 😩😩

[yeosin-n]

unhinged swap on my mind lately hehe o)-( !!!

I wrote out a bit of headcanons for cadet a while back that I’ll just,,,

Likes to play baseball

Likes tacos (not the crunchy kind) with lots of lime

Swapped but .. is still judge…??

He acts like hes not strong and fails at becoming part of royal guard to keep up a facade

Sometimes his mask slips but it’s ok bc no one will believe you <3

Very tolerant most times bc he has his own way to vent…?

Sans doesn't work on machine maybe?

Hands too full so pap does all the nerd stuff instead

Sans goes around helping ppl with chores or whatever, talking to them

Helps keep their hopes up

Hes cheerful outside but once hes home, he deflates

He has to keep other people happy but theres no one to help make him happy ):

Pretends he cant cook

A lot of things about him is a facade

Maybe he likes that ppl try so hard to pretend to like his cooking? He thinks its funny

Makes him a little happier, sees it as a little harmless payment for making everybody else happy all the time

Observant

Doesn't know too much about timelines and resets but pap would talk to him about it ?

Snowdin fight would be with sans if pacifist/neutral (fake fight, for the facade) and with pap if geno (pap asking you to stop)

You still go on date with pap

Doesn't actually want to meet or catch a human

Lets them get away on purpose and is kind of pushing them onto pap.

Sans is tired.

Sometimes he disappears to nap

Needs to recharge after being so extroverted all the time

Sans would often scold pap for not going outside enough

Like he would also want to stay inside all day but that’s not good for your health

Drags pap along so he gets some air from time to time

Sans’ room is tidy enough

Bed and exercise equipment

No need to have a facade at home

Uses pap as an excuse to not have ppl over

[cherriesformatt]

sick || matt sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: reader is taking care of sick Matt

warnings: pure fluff

word count: 1k

a/n: how can you be sick and still looking like matt did? I think its only him...

I was excited to see Matt but in the same time I knew something was off when he texted me this morning to come over but than he did not answer anymore. Him and his brothers were doing this challenge that they are separated for a week for the first time and today Nick left for Japan with Madison and Matt was left alone. I was off work now so I decided to drive to his house. I walked in using my finger print on their lock and locked the door back behind me.

“Matt?” I called but no one answered me.

I frowned and walked up the stairs and when I did not see him on the couch or in the kitchen I went to his room. It was all dark so I left the doors open to see.

“Matt?” I asked and I looked at him. He was in the bed wrapped in his comforter.

I came closer and sat down next to him. He was sleeping. His cheeks were flushed and his hair were sticking to his sweaty forehead. I saw an empty bottle of water and termometr on this night stand.

“Oh my poor baby” I whispered.

I didn’t see him for some time now and all I wanted to do now was to snuggle with him and take care of him. I was so sad he got sick on the week he was off work and stuff. It’s like his body knew it could let go.

I took my attention back to him as he started to cough and he quickly sat down and sneezed.

“Hi baby” I sad smiling sadly and have him a tissue from the night stand.

“Y/n what are you doing here? What time is it?” He asked with his very raspy voice.

“It’s past 5, you are sick. Why didn’t you text me? I would bring you stuff” I said.

He looked at me as he cleaned his nose and he put away the used napkin.

“I’m sorry baby, I practically slept the whole day I knew I was going to text you but my phone was too far away. I feel like shit” he said.

“I can’t believe ve I got sick and can’t kiss you right now. I missed you so much” he said with a very sad tone and his eyes dropped.

“Shhh… it’s okay” I came closer and I wrapped my arms around him. He didn’t protest and rested his head on my shoulder.

“Did you take anything for the fever?” I asked and when he shook his head I rolled my eyes.

“Okay. Do you guys even have any medicine at home?” I asked again and he shook his head again.

“Dear God Matt what was your plan? Die from fever and dehydration? “ I rubbed his back.

“You’re all sweaty… you should shower to feel a bit better and I’ll change your sheets and will DoorDash everything we need to make you feel better” I say moving away a bit.

He looked at me and nod. He rested his back in the bed and looked around and grabbed his phone from under all the pillows and he handed it to me.

“Use my DoorDash with my card please” he said and I didn’t want to argue with him looking like that.

I stand up and I offer him my arm to help him get up and when he does he instantly shivers.

“Okay… sit down I’ll go and turn water on so the bathroom will be warm for you” I said and quickly went to do that and than when we was in the shower I got him fresh pj’s and put it in the bathroom for him as well as I change his sheets and order things. I ordered medicine, stuff for making soup and pasta, electrolytes and his favorite drinks and snacks.

I went around living room and kitchen to tidy a bit and put a blanket on the couch.

“You are the best…” he said as he stepped into the living room.

“Go seat on the couch the stuff will be there soon. I’ll make soup and homemade pasta. It will take some time but I know how much you like” I say and he comes closer to me and brings me back to his chest.

“I’m sorry I’m sick….” He whispered.

“Don’t be sorry it’s not like you could control it. It’s all good I want you to rest and let me take care of you without worrying” I kissed his cheek.

“I wish I could kiss you but I don’t want you to get sick” he said moving away.

“ I know….” I smiled and send him on the couch again.

When the stuff got here, he took the meds and I started cooking. He needed to vlog so he did w bit.

“Matt for the love of good put this hoodie back on. How can you have 101 fever and look this good? Also never mind get under the fucking blankets or no soup for you” I said I noticed him shirtless.

“But it’s so hot, this meds broke me. What if I’m dying?” He asked looking at me from the couch.

“You’re not, you are just a man with a cold right now. I know it might seems like dying but you’re not” I said very seriously.

He rolled his eyes on me and got under the blanket. When food was ready we were eating it on the couch and talking a bit about Nick and Chris and his time in Boston when I was telling him about work and what I was doing when he wasn’t here when I’d we talked almost every day.

“Thank you for the food it was so good. I feel so much better now” he said and he lay down with his head in my lap.

“You know what always makes me feel better when I’m sick?” I asked with w smile and started to play with his hair.

“I know, I know. We can watch Harry Potter movies together “ he said.

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iv

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader summary: Art comes out of retirement to test out his coaching skills. Your relationship with him continues to spiral. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, divorce, rough sex, piv, marijuana use, slight angst, hastily proofread word count: 7.7K divider by @cafekitsune <3 prev part | next part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Kaleb decides he wants to play tennis. Or that he wants to “get serious” about it. He’d done tennis camp every summer along with soccer camp, and he’d enjoyed it enough. But for some reason, he’s determined to be a tennis player now. You blame it on how much time he’s been spending around the Donaldson’s. Between the various play dates and carpooling, he and Lily have been attached at the hip.

The two of you are enjoying a quiet evening  on a weeknight when he brings it up. 

“Lily doesn’t really like tennis,” he tells you in between bites of mashed potatoes. 

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes our friends end up having different hobbies,” you say.

“Hm,” he puts his finger to his chin, “kinda like you and Mr. Art?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he’s like the greatest tennis player ever,” he says, spreading his arms out wide. “But you’re terrible at tennis. And you guys are friends right?”

His assertion has you placing your fork down. “Okay, first of all, I’m not terrible at tennis. Secondly, it’s really not fair to compare me to a professional tennis player, K, he’s had years of practice.” Then, you reluctantly think of the last thing he said. About the two of you being friends. 

Images of Art kneeling above you in bed dance through your mind. You think of the last time you were with him. How he’d laid his cheek on your thigh while you threaded your fingers through his tufts of blonde hair. His gaze searing as he watched you in all your post-orgasmic bliss. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to recover.  

You clear your throat. 

“Yeah, um, I guess we are friends.” You avoid eye contact with Kaleb and pray he changes the subject. You don’t want to think about Art. 

Unfortunately, your son is too young to properly read the room. If he was, he’d see the way you’re clenching your fork in your fist. Or he would’ve realized by now that his mom is a harlot. Instead of calling you out on your immorality, he turns to you with express earnestness. “I wanna play tennis like Mr. Art,” he says definitively.

He then furrows his little eyebrows and asks you, “you think I can be as good as him one day?”

You smile, reach over to smooth your palm over his curls, and tug his ear. You say what every parent would. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, my little monkey.” 

He grins at you, dimple poking out.

After all, you’re almost certain this is just an eager phase prompted by Lily bringing Tashi to school for career day. Tashi mentioned to you that Kaleb was very eager to ask questions about her job. Apparently, he thought it was super cool that she “got to coach the best tennis players in the world.” You’re worried that before dinner is over he might ask you to put in a word with her about coaching him. 

Once you’ve finished eating, tucked Kaleb in, and tidied up the kitchen, you finally get to relax with a cup of lavender chamomile tea.

Before you settle into the refuge of your bed, you make a note to sign Kaleb up for club tennis. 

ᯓ

You’re at a gas station near Kaleb’s school when you realize your dumb credit card has a faulty chip. You grab your purse and lock the doors to your car, having been forced to go inside the store and pay for your gas the old fashioned way. 

The door shuts behind you with a ring of a bell. The unmistakable smell of fuel fills your nostrils as it mixes with stale coffee and the emblematic stench of small convenience stores. You grumble when you see there’s a short line. 

With a sigh, you take a detour down one of the narrow aisles to grab a pack of gum. You pick out a random pack of spearmint, but your inner child lingers on the yellow packaging of juicy fruit bubble gum sitting beside it. When you were little, your mom would’ve made you pick one or the other. Without a second thought, you pluck the yellow pack out from the shelf and head back towards the front. 

On your walk back, you glance out the windows, checking to make sure the pump you’re parked at is still number 5. 

The line is shorter now. There’s only two people. You think you recognize the dark head of the person standing at the counter. They’re digging through the back pocket of their jeans and pulling out a leather wallet when your cellphone dings. It’s an email notification from your boss. You read the subject header before dropping the phone back into your purse, hoping to avoid whatever stressor awaits you there for a couple more hours or so. When you look back up, you’re met with the face of the dark haired stranger. 

His eyes meet yours. Patrick Zweig sends you a mischievous smile of recognition as he saunters toward you. He snaps his fingers. “I know you.”

“Hi, Patrick,” you say through your tight smile. The last time you’d seen him, he tried to blackmail you into going out with him. If he wasn’t so attractive, you’d probably be repulsed by him. 

“Long time no see.” He pockets his package of Marlboros. “How you been?”

“Um just busy you know,” you hum. “You?” 

He nods. “Same, same.” He looks you over, smile growing wider when he meets your eyes after lingering on your cleavage. He doesn’t even attempt to be discreet. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the side.

Thankfully, the bald guy in front of you finishes up his transaction so you have an excuse to say “excuse me” to Patrick as you approach the register. You glance back when you hand your money to the bored cashier, catching one last glimpse of Patrick as he exits through the door. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the tiniest hint of disappointment. 

You accept your change and two packs of gum and make your way back to your car. Not wanting to waste any more time at this point, you toss the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurry to pump your gas.  

You’re leaning against the trunk while the fuel fills your tank when you hear a small “hey.” 

You’re startled as Patrick approaches you again. You look around suspiciously. “Um are you stalking me?” 

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was standing over there taking a smoke.” He points towards his beat up suv. You wonder why he doesn’t have a better car. You thought tennis players made money. “And I saw you. Didn’t get to say goodbye earlier.” 

You click your tongue. “Well, bye.” 

“Wait—I hope I didn’t rub you the wrong way last time.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “I kind of have a fucked up sense of humor.” 

“It wasn’t the joke,” you supply. “It was more so you trying to blackmail me into going on a date with you.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know why that didn’t work.” The grin he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. 

This time, you smirk, your gaze tracing the length of his body, from his Nikes to the curly wisps of hair flying in the wind. The gas pump clicks, signifying that your tank is full. You don’t remove it right away because you’re busy letting Patrick type his number into your phone. You wish you could say you played hard to get, but that would be a lie of monumental magnitude. 

You don’t actually intend to call him, content to let his number go forgotten in your phone. After all, what type of woman would get involved with the best friend of the man she’s having an affair with? 

Later on, when you’re having a glass of wine, mommy duties complete for the night, you pause on his number as you tap through your phone. You inhale, take a sip from your glass, and quickly save his contact before swiping out of the app. You can blame it on your being slightly tipsy when you notice that he’s saved as “for a rainy day.” 

ᯓ

It turns out that the tennis thing isn’t just a phase. You don’t mind of course. You’d always support your kid in whatever he pursued. The only issue is that Art fucking Donaldson thought it would be a good idea to train little Kaleb. As if you needed more reasons to be around the man. 

You’d told him that you didn’t think it was necessary because your son was only eight years old. Surely, he wouldn’t need a retired professional tennis player to train him. His tennis lessons at the local club would certainly suffice. Plus, you imagined he had more important things to attend to than give private lessons to a third grader. 

On a random weeknight, you’d gone to pick Kaleb up from a play date with Lily, hoping to grab him and get back home before the rain got any worse. Art had greeted you at the door, placing a hand on the small of your back. 

He decided to bring up the topic again. Even Tashi, who was usually busy with training of her own, chimed in, claiming it would be a good opportunity for Art to find real meaning in tennis again. Whatever that meant. Patrick, who you had been avoiding thinking about, once again inserted himself into a conversation, pointing out how young he and Art were when they first started playing tennis. According to him, it was never too early to learn how to properly hit a ball with a racket. 

ᯓ

The thought of Art spending time with Kaleb through tennis is an endearing one if you’re being honest with yourself. But you know you would have an intense fight on your hands should Chris find out. 

Ever since Art had stepped in with your ex at the fall festival, he’d harbored an attitude toward him. He’d gone as far as complaining about all the time Kaleb spent at his house, accusing you of trying to turn your son against him. If it weren’t for the court mandated visits, you’d have simply told Chris to go to hell. But in an attempt to maintain peace for your son’s sake, you reassured him that Kaleb only spent so much time around Art because Lily was his best friend. 

You asked him if it was worth destroying his son’s friendship. He conceded for the time being, but you’re sure if he found out about any extra tennis lessons, he’d blow a gasket. 

Ironically, you had never been offered the freedom to express such possessiveness. You had to be content each and every time your son stayed at his father’s new house with his new fiancée that you barely knew anything about. You handle some occasions better than others. 

This time, though, when you watch Kaleb go through the front door of their luxurious home, Spider-Man backpack affixed on his back, your stomach churns. Chris’ fiancée smiles and waves to you with her left hand. Bitterly, you think it’s a miracle she can even lift it with the large diamond wrapped around her finger. She places her hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into their home, as if she wasn’t the one that helped wreck yours. 

Maybe it’s the fact that this past week would’ve been your anniversary, but your shoulders shake with sobs throughout the entire drive home. You sniffle as you think about Kaleb building a life with his soon to be step-mom. You hope she treats him right, but, ultimately, you wish he didn’t have to know her at all. 

It doesn’t help that you aren’t able to bury your sorrows in Art’s chest or on his dick. He’d already told you about the gala he’d be attending that weekend for the Donaldson Foundation. You haven’t seen him since last weekend, and you ache to call him, but the thought makes you feel nauseous when you think about the wretched irony of seeking comfort in a married man. In a decision that’s almost homogeneously pathetic, you sit in your lonely driveway and send a “hey” to ‘for a rainy day.’

ᯓ

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to offer to come over. You send him your location as you pop open a bottle of wine. 

You reach for a glass, your eagerness causing you to apply too much force as you slam the glass down. It breaks under the pressure of your haste, immediately cracking at the stem. The inconvenience is too much for you. You curse before bringing the entire bottle up to your mouth. You take a swig, red liquid spilling out of the corner of your mouth. With a gasp, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Pitifully, your vision starts to blur again as your eyes swell up with hot tears. You resort to sitting on the kitchen floor, taking the occasional drink, and wallowing in your despair. 

You’re propped against the cabinet, knees to your chest as you cradle the green tinted bottle of red wine like a toddler holding a stuffed animal, when you hear your doorbell ring. You stumble to your feet, dragging them as you move toward the door. When you swing the door open, Patrick is standing there with his hands in his pockets. He looks you over once, mumbling that you “look like shit” before stepping into your home as if he’d been there a thousand times. 

He lifts his eyebrows when he sees the neglected pieces of glass on your counter. He looks back at the bottle in your fist before groaning. “Please don’t tell me you’re an alcoholic.” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m just having a pretty shitty day.” 

“No shit,” he snorts. 

You send him a glare. “I don’t even know why I called you,” you say and rub your temples. 

“Because I’m obviously easy and you know it.” He smirks. 

It makes you laugh, your red, puffy eyes squinting back at him. 

Patrick eventually convinces you to smoke the joint he’d brought with him. You haven’t gotten high in years, and you find yourself mindlessly rambling about your life as you pass the joint back and forth to him. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your eyes now red because of the weed. 

You and Patrick are lounging on the floor of your living room. You’re dragging your fingers through the shag rug underneath you and leaning your head back on the sofa when you hear him laugh. He sounds like he’s far away, down through a tunnel, but when you turn your head, his face is right beside you. 

“What’s funny?” You grunt. 

He shakes his head. “S’nothing.” 

You frown and shove his bicep. “Tell me,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I hate feeling left out.” 

His smile falters for a second like he’s remembering something, but when you blink he’s sporting a melancholic grin. “It’s just—you kind of remind me a lot of Art.” His head falls to the side to really look at you. “I mean not like completely, and not really how he is now, but when you’re upset—it reminds me of when we were teenagers.” 

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not,” you say. It comes out as a whisper. Your faces are so close that you don’t want to startle him. 

“Hm.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Not a good or bad thing. Just a thing.” 

“That’s why you like me?” You mumble teasingly. “Because I remind you of your boyfriend?” 

He smirks, lips so close to yours you feel his breath fan them. “Who said I liked you?” 

“You don’t have to.” You’re just the slightest movement away from kissing him. If you tilt your head just the tiniest bit—

He lets out an almost imperceptible moan when he finally presses his lips to yours. It’s so quiet, you think you might’ve imagined it. It all happens incredibly fast, but feels like slow motion. Your head is fuzzy and your body is tingling as Patrick grabs your waist, hoisting you onto his lap. It takes you a moment to build momentum, your sensory overload working against you.

When you’re finally able to match his energy, the kiss is searing. He’s sucking your lip into his mouth like you’re already his, hands roaming everywhere he can get them. When he bites your bottom lip, you suck in a breath, giving him room to thrust his tongue into your mouth. You mewl at the way your mouths seem to fit together like velcro. Your toes curl and you tighten your fists into his dark locks when you feel his hot tongue traveling down your throat, leaving white hot bites that feel like being branded. His teeth sting and your cunt throbs as you impulsively rut against his length. 

Patrick rubs his large palm over your ass before abruptly smacking it, making you release an embarrassingly airy moan. His teeth tug on your earlobe. “You like that?” 

You only nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Hmm?” He mumbles, continuing to lave over the skin behind your ear. His hand comes down on your ass again, harder this time. 

You let out a pathetic squeal and slam your hips down against him in search of some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. “Oh god—please fuck me—“

His mouth meets yours again. You can barely kiss him properly, panting about needing him to fuck you right now. 

He really is easy, you think, but it’s not like you have room to talk.

ᯓ

The first time Patrick Zweig sinks his cock into you, you’re on your knees, face pressed against your rug. The slam of his hips threaten to take your breath away as tears cling to your eyelashes. He’s rough, possessively grabbing your flesh with no regard for potential damage. When he experimentally grips your hair in his hand, tugging your head back gently, you see stars behind your clamped eyelids.

Patrick nearly whimpers at the way it makes you arch your back into his thrusts with increasing intensity. He groans something about you being a slut and fists your hair with less restraint. Your walls clench around him when he wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you to his chest. 

He grunts into your ear. “I knew you liked it rough, could tell from the first time I saw you.” 

The tears have started to spill now. Whether it’s from the humiliation or the utter ecstasy, you aren’t sure. All you know is that you almost sob when Patrick drags his tongue alongside your face, collecting the salty tears.

ᯓ

He buries himself inside you for a second time no more than twenty minutes after you’ve both cum. You gasp and claw at his back as his body presses you into your couch cushions.

You have to admit that Patrick knows how to fuck. Knows how to read your body, tapping into just the right frequency to get you off. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been craving this type of treatment from the way you’re responding to him. But you’re sure that he must have a sexual sixth sense because in the midst of fucking you wildly, he grabs your ankle that’s dangling by his ear, turns his head, and plants a sweet kiss to the bone. It makes you melt into the sofa. 

He leans down to shove his tongue into your open mouth. Softly pats your cheek, relishing in your cock drunk state. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” He murmurs into your neck.

You don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Huh?” He prods. 

You choke down a moan. “Better. He—“ You cry out when you feel him start rubbing harsh circles into your clit. “He fucks me better.” 

He huffs out a laugh through his smile, but his hips slam down harder as if he’s determined to change your answer. In less than a minute, you’re biting down on his shoulder when you feel another orgasm rack through your body. 

ᯓ

You take a longer break this time. Stopping to pour yourself a real glass of wine. One with its stem intact. Patrick lazily inhales from a cigarette as he watches you, with hooded eyes, attempt to hold a throw blanket over your bare torso. In contrast, he nonchalantly spreads his thighs over your couch, body on full display. 

His eyes leisurely meet yours. They shine prettily in the dim lighting of your home. His dark lashes flutter on each drag of his cig and it makes the corner of your mouth curve up when you take a sip. The lamps have cast a cozy shade of amber over the room. It blankets Patrick’s skin in a golden aura reminiscent of something being baked in an oven. 

Patrick reminds you of the gingerbread man, you think. It makes you press the tips of your fingers to your lips to stifle a giggle. 

He tilts his head at your odd behavior, but he assumes the weed must still be affecting you. 

Once you’ve placed your glass on the coffee table, and he’s put out his cigarette, Patrick is pulling you by the ankle, tossing your blanket to the side and kissing his way down your abdomen. 

You yelp when he captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth but let him press his hot kisses into your skin nonetheless. 

You end up cumming for the third time that night with his head buried between your legs. 

ᯓ

Patrick leaves while you’re asleep. 

When you wake up around 3am to an empty house, you think it’s for the best. You check your phone. You have a missed call from “a.d.” and a text from Patrick that says “had fun” with a winking emoji. You don’t respond to either, instead, opting to pad your bare feet to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower.

In the morning, you tidy up your home from the events of the night before, cringing at what took place on the terracotta colored sofa.

When the buzzing in your head doesn’t stop after cleaning your entire living room from top to bottom, you find yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. 

You’re frantically kneading dough when the doorbell rings. You frown, not expecting company, but clean your hands as best you can as you make your way to open the door. Sometimes, your talkative neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, likes to come knocking on your door early in the mornings. 

You’re surprised to find that Art is standing on the other side with a latte and a bag containing a chocolate croissant. You assume it’s for you. He places his things down on the table by the door, the one that holds your catch all tray, and scoops you up into a hug. 

He groans into it, making you smile. “Hi,” you mumble into his chest. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice comes out equally mumbled. “Missed you.” You can hear the grin in his tone. It makes your heart clench. 

You allow yourself to hold onto him, despite the ever present worry that you should be reining yourself in when it comes to him. He moves to let you go, grabbing your face in his palm and kissing the side of your head. You whine and lock your arms around his waist in protest. You inhale his scent, all warm and familiar. You’ve missed him. 

“Baby,” he laughs into your hair. You grunt, squeezing him tighter. “Okay, c’mere.” He pulls you into him, securely engulfing you in his arms. “I got you, I got you.” 

You eventually release him long enough to walk into your home. 

You’re relieved that you’d been overtaken by a cleaning spell this morning because you fear that Art might take one glance at your couch and figure out who had been here. That he’d smell him in the air. 

You’re afraid he might’ve detected it anyway when he freezes in the walkway separating your kitchen from the living room. You nibble on your lip as you try to search his body for any signs that he’s onto you. 

To your relief, Art is actually focused on the copious amounts of cookie dough you have on the counter of your kitchen island. He turns to you with the all knowing look of a father, his eyes creased with concern. “Oh no, what happened?” 

ᯓ

After a therapy session in which you decide to stop letting your ex influence your decisions from afar, you finally relent, allowing Art to begin practicing with Kaleb on their private tennis court. It seems like since you got involved with their family, that’s all you ever do, give in to everyone’s requests. In any other context, it would be disturbing, but the sight of Kaleb racing to the court with an oversized tennis bag fills you with joy. The bag threatens to pull him down, but his excitement keeps him upright as he makes a beeline for Art. 

You don’t know who’s more excited to see Art between the two of you. Your son’s tennis instructor waves at you from across the court. And you have to fight the rush that flows through you, threatening to cut off your oxygen, and give a simple wave in return. It makes you feel like a kid with a fervent crush. You could gag.

You remind yourself that you’re here for Kaleb. Not you.

You think that as long as you get to see him happy like that, you’d agree to anything. It’s a scary notion, but becoming a mom has made you aware of a lot of terrifying realities. 

ᯓ

It’s this maternal need to preserve your son’s happiness that leads you to another prolonged encounter with Tashi Duncan. She’d caught you when you were dropping him off for tennis lessons one day. Apparently, she had a free day. Lily was spending the day with her grandparents, and Patrick is, thankfully, nowhere to be found. You try to hide your relief when she tells you that. You don’t think you can face him right now. 

She insists you join her in their sunroom while the boys practice. You try to think of an excuse to turn her down, but you decide your karma from sleeping with her husband has built up too much to take the chance of tacking on more. So, when she offers to make you a cup of tea, you oblige and sink down into the fabric of a warm sofa.

When Tashi reappears, she sits down with a cup of steaming hot tea for the both of you. You thank her with a smile, letting your eyes trail over her figure. She looks ethereal. The sunlight pouring through the glass forms a halo of light around her, illuminating her like a Madonna painting. She has her hair pulled back into a low ponytail that causes her to have to tuck the loose strands behind her ear every now and then. The motion makes you take notice of her slim neck and the way her collarbones dip into her loose-fitted button down. Even dressed casually, she looks like a goddess. 

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster and reach to take a sip of your tea. You wonder how she knew that lavender chamomile was one of your favorites.

It’s only awkward for a moment because the two of you quickly fall into a conversation about what she’s missed now that Art has taken over attending the PTA meetings. That’s how you’d initially met her. She had actually been the one who you exchanged communication with about carpool and play dates. Art’s retirement allowed her to focus on tennis and other aspects of raising Lily that she preferred. You giggle when she admits that she never really liked those meetings anyway. You don’t tell her that you always had that inkling. 

When you mention that Cynthia is still advertising her knitting business at every single meeting, she sucks in a laugh before leaning toward you. She presses her lips together, holding in her giggle. “Guess what?”

You squint at her, your expression already anticipating a joke. “What?” You all but sputter out. 

“I’m probably responsible for like half the sales on her Etsy shop.” She says like she’s admitting to something top secret. It’s a lot like the expression Lily takes on when her and Kaleb are playing “secret agent.”

“Girl, what?” You didn’t think she’d be a fan of crocheted animal figures. 

“I ordered one for my mom for Mother’s Day,” she explains. “She fell in love with the thing I swear, thought it looked just like her little Yorkie, next thing you know she’s asking for the link to share with all her friends.” 

You’re snickering into your mug imagining Tashi unintentionally being Cynthia’s best saleswoman.

She smiles at you. “I’m serious. Apparently, amigurumi is the new thing. It’s gonna be flying off the shelves. That’s why I had to go ahead and put in my order.”

“Of course you know the official term.” You toss your head back. “What’s yours look like?” 

“It’s a little tabby cat,” she smiles wistfully. “Like the one I had growing up. Her name was Aphrodite.” 

It’s a fitting name.

You’re biting back a grin as you take a sip from your tea. You sigh at the taste. “How’d you know what type of tea I liked?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“Art mentioned it to me.” 

You freeze. “Art?” 

“Yeah he says you like to make it before bed. Now, he’s hooked on it.” 

All the blood in your body rushes to your head. You feel that unwelcome yet proverbial sinking in your gut. You think you might start projectile vomiting.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t respond. It’s hard to speak when you feel like you’re dangling upside down on a roller coaster.

“Wait… you didn’t think I knew did you?”

For some unintelligent reason, you decide to play stupid. Usually, in times of danger, humans resort to fight, flight, or freeze. You choose fucking idiot. “Knew what?”

“That you’re fucking my husband.” Tashi says quite unceremoniously.

“What—what do you mean?” You squeak out.

“Don’t.” She laughs. “I’ve known the whole time.” 

“How?” Your voice is shrinking smaller and smaller to your ears. The sound of Tashi’s voice, her pert laughter, drowning it out.

“Art tells me everything.”

“And you’re okay with it?” You attempt to ask though you can barely hear it.

You know your question reaches her ears because she shakes her head and tells you, “I suggested it.” 

Your eyes go wide. Her divulgence seems to propel you forward on your metaphorical roller coaster. In a snap, it brings you out of your stupor.

“I told Art that he should fuck you.” She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s as simple as telling him to pick up some carry out on the way home. 

You’re confused, and your head is starting to hurt from the whiplash, and you wish this ride would end already. “I’m—I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Okay, well, Art’s been attracted to you since the day he met you,” she says plainly. “But he’d never actually do anything about it because that’s just who he is. He needed that push—“

“That push?”

She nods. “He needed to know he could do it and everything would be fine. He’s still figuring out how to be open to stuff like this.” She explains, gestures vaguely in the air. “He’d never break up what seemed like a happy marriage, but when it was clear that your marriage was far from happy…well he started to warm up to the idea.”

“What do you mean far from happy?” The shock has you feeling unreasonably defensive.

“Clearly something was off. You never seemed happy with him. You’ve said it yourself that he was a dick.”

“Um—okay, well, I’d say something has to be off if you’re coaching your husband into sleeping with unsuspecting women.” You shoot back. Your gaze is sharp and accusatory.

She lets her eyes fall down to her lap, picking at little buds of lint being exposed by the sun’s glow. “You’re right, something was off between us,” she says like it’s something in the past. Like maybe they’re good now, but at one time they weren’t. “But Art knows how I feel about him.” Then, her gaze returns to you. “Something tells me your husband either didn’t know or didn’t care.”

Her comment strikes a nerve. Chris did know something was off, and she was right, he didn’t care. He made you feel like needing more from him made you selfish. As if the reminder of the vows he made to you was an affront to him. He knew you were unhappy. That you felt ignored. But he didn’t care. When you’d served him the divorce papers, you naively thought that he’d realize what he might lose, that he might beg for your forgiveness, promise to be better. Instead, you watched him sign the document in the same way he’d signed receipts for dinner before closing the tab and tucking the pen inside. 

You think you envy her. Because she has a husband that actually doesn’t want to leave her. 

“Hey.” She grabs your attention. Her voice softens when she sees your glassy eyes peering back at her. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to offer an explanation.” 

You work to swallow down the onslaught of emotions threatening to rise up like bile. You release a fractured noise from your throat, letting the revelation fully soak in. “So you really knew this whole time then? Or rather you orchestrated it?” 

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” she says. “When we found out you were getting divorced, I mentioned to Art that he should pursue you. That’s all.” She shrugs. “I never knew if he’d actually do it or when he’d do it. All I know is that the first night he came home smelling like you, he fucked me like he did when I first agreed to be his tennis coach.” 

“Then, he was constantly meeting up with you or staying to talk after PTA meetings,” her fingers curl to form quotations around the word, talk. “But I knew what was up.” She bites her lip. “It was honestly kind of hot.” 

You frown. The thought of him sleeping with her immediately after being with you has your stomach in knots. The worst part is that you can’t stop wondering if he’d showered first. If he’d cleaned himself up or if he’d went straight to her, buried himself inside her, cock still sticky with your fluids. In a way, it’s like you had also been inside her. If you think about it long enough, you can imagine what it must feel like. So, you don’t think about it. Instead, you fix your gaze on the golden pothos plant sitting on top a table to your right. The tapping of your nail against the ceramic mug fills the silence. 

She gives you a questioning look. 

Ignoring the implications of what she just told you, you settle for the anger you’re feeling instead of dwelling on any confusing arousal. “Do you not realize how fucked up this is, Tashi?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah! It’s fucked!” You throw your hands up. “I mean I’ve been running around feeling guilty, thinking I was a fucking homewrecker while the two of you get off on a cheating kink!”

She can tell you have more to say, so she leans back and lets you go on.

“I mean how could you do that? I was fucking depressed.”

She snorts. “Not so depressed that it ruined your libido. You two have been going at it like rabbits.” Her smirk makes your cheeks burn. 

You place your mug down onto the table. “Wow. You know what?” You’re on the edge of the couch now, body rigid. “You and Art can go fuck yourselves! This is seriously messed up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “As messed up as you fucking another woman’s husband?” 

Her words drip with mirth, and it pisses you off that the fiery look in her eyes is poking at a budding desire in your belly. “This is ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself. You’d rather focus all your energy on being outraged than interrogate why this is kind of turning you on. You’re about to stand up to leave when she places a hand on your arm.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” She asks you. 

An incredulous look takes over your face. “What do you think?” You spit out.

“Well, would you have preferred I not know?” She asks as if you’re the crazy one here.

“I—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, and try to gather your thoughts. “Obviously not, Tashi.” You glance up to the glass paned ceiling. “I just—it would’ve been nice to know what was really going on. I mean he never even told me that you knew.”

“Well, did you ask?” She asks simply. 

Did you? You think back to the past couple of months. The more you and Art hooked up, the more you avoided directly mentioning Tashi. He didn’t bring her up more than what was necessary, so you suspected he was actively trying to keep it from her. 

To be fair, he did mention a couple of times that he’d told Tashi you two were going to meet up for lunch, but you thought he must’ve been leaving out the activities that followed. And if she happened to call him while the two of you were together, he would casually tell her he was with you. You obviously assumed he was downplaying your friendship because there was no way Art would be so nonchalant about a mistress. But, apparently, the word mistress didn’t even apply to you. 

“I mean, I guess I didn’t.” You stammer. “But I feel like that was on him to bring it up to me.”

“Well that’s where you went wrong. Art can get in his own way sometimes.” A pensive expression works it’s way onto her face. “Or maybe part of him did kind of get off on feeling like he was sneaking around.” The thought seems to bring a small smile to her face. 

It still doesn’t make sense to you. You try to tamper down the sinking feeling that you’ve been nothing more than a pawn. “I just don’t understand why you two couldn’t proposition me like a normal couple looking for a third,” you say.

“Who said you were our third?” 

“Oh, so there’s other women you’ve sent Art to fuck?”

“No. I—I don’t just pimp out my husband, okay?”

You back down.

“We already have a…third I guess.”

You look at her with furrowed brows. 

“Patrick.” She answers.

“Patrick? Like Patrick Patrick?”

She nods.

You laugh cynically. You didn’t think this situation could get any worse.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know how it seems—”

“Was that part of the plan too?” You’re out of breath, chest heaving. 

She looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Me and Patrick,” you blurt. 

“Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with Patrick?” She’s scooting closer to you. 

You shake your head. “It just happened once.” You think of how he’d shoved your face into the rug, fucking into you as he grunted out various obscenities. “I was high. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She looks away for a moment, brows drawn together tightly. She’s piecing together what you’ve told her. 

“I—I didn’t know he was with you guys,” you try. 

She waves you off. “No, it’s not that.” She sits back. “I’m just not surprised that he wormed his way into your pants. He just couldn’t take that Art had something to himself.” She’s speaking to you, but her eyes are trained ahead. 

“So, you really didn’t set that up too?” You ask meekly. 

“God, no!” She says. “I had no idea.” 

You believe her. 

“Look I don’t care what type of weird shit you tennis players are into, if you guys have wild orgies or whatever. I just would’ve liked to have known that I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

You nod. “I mean I sit here and give my ex shit for cheating on me with that skinny ass whore from Modesto. Hell! That’s why I got so much fucking alimony.” You’re rambling now. “And, then, I go and let Art fucking Donaldson screw me and then send him back home to play loving father and husband like it’s nothing. God! And on top of it all, I also sleep with his best friend! I became the whore from Modesto.” 

Tashi’s watching you like you’re a kid experiencing big feelings.

“I felt like a home wrecker.” You sniff. “But apparently I’m actually not…because it was your idea, well only Art, not Patrick, and I—it’s all just fucking with my head.”

Tashi swallows. “I honestly thought you’d be relieved to find out.”

She looks at the frown on your face, takes in the way your plump bottom lip is jutting out. She reaches for your hand. “We’ve never really been the best at communicating. Me and Art. For the past year or so, we’ve gotten better at talking to each other, being honest about what we want, but we’re still working on doing that with other people I guess.” You let her thumb rub the back of your hand before you gently pull away. 

You grab your mug again. The handle is cold to the touch. 

“I promise we didn’t mean to fuck with you. Honestly, I think Art really likes you.” She offers you a small smile.

You look into your mug trying to still your reaction. You don’t care. 

Tashi’s gaze feels heavy on the side of your face as you feel her watching your expression. You start to fiddle with your watch. Checking for the time. Except your watch is too busy displaying your increased heart rate to offer the time. 

You sigh. 

She reaches out to you again, but this time she brings her hand up to your face, moving the curls falling down over your eyes. You let her nimble fingers caress your cheekbone before trailing down to your chin, guiding you to look at her. 

She gives you a steady, knowing smile. “You fell for him didn’t you?” 

Your cheeks go ablaze, and you try to look away from her. 

“Hey.” She grasps your chin in a firm, but gentle hold. “It’s okay.” She nods as if it’ll telepathically make you agree. 

You clear your throat. “I know you say that, but this is all new to me.” Your voice is slightly wobbly and you think you might cry. “I—I didn’t think it’d happen but it did. I thought I could get him out of my system but now,” you inhale and press two fingers against your neck, subconsciously trying to self-soothe. “Now, it’s like—it’s like I can’t stop.” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper. Like you’re afraid to admit the truth. 

And, really, you are afraid. You’re fucking terrified. 

You’re scared to fall in love with a man who already has one—two people in his life that he’s in love with. The last time you entrusted a man with your love, he was only meant to love you, and he couldn’t even give you that. 

What if you realize you’re absolutely enamored by Art Donaldson and he realizes the same thing Chris did? That there’s something about you that makes you unworthy of love. That the depth of you is as deep as your cunt goes and that’s it. 

What if he realizes that he already has what he needs in Tashi, even Patrick? What if they realize they actually aren’t willing to share?

You apparently voice the last bit aloud.

Tashi tilts her head, some of her strands have fallen loose again and she wears the prettiest pout on her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” 

You gulp when her hand presses into your thigh, and she brings her face impossibly close to yours, forcing you to hold her gaze. “You want me to prove that I’m okay with it?” Her eyes flit between each one of yours with a level of seriousness you’d expect from someone like her. 

Her expression demands an answer, and so, you give a faint nod, transfixed on the woman in front of you. 

You gasp when you feel her mouth on yours. 

You learn that Tashi tastes sweet when she has her tongue in your mouth. You think you can taste the tartness of the lemon she’d sucked on earlier. It’s good, and you realize you’re fucked because you really like kissing her. 

Her tongue twirling around yours has you panting quietly, and you keen when you feel her manicured nails press into the nape of your neck. You haven’t kissed a woman since your last girlfriend in college, and you find you miss it. Something about it feels like drinking sweet tea on a hot summer day. Climbing into cool sheets at night when you’re bone tired. Or the feeling you get when you discover the song that you’re going to replay for the next week. 

It also makes you feel absurdly wet. 

The two of you work up a rhythm of pulling away for a breath before coming back together like magnets, letting your foreheads gently press together as you breathe deeply, thumbs caressing skin, eyelids fluttering. 

Your tongue is sweeping across Tashi’s lip, on a path to enter her mouth again, when you hear someone clear their throat. 

There’s an audible smack as you yank yourself from Tashi, eyes flying to the doorway of their sunroom. 

Art is standing there staring at you, gaze shifting from your face to the hand you still have placed on his wife’s neck. His jaw is clenched, and his bulge is painfully evident in his pants. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I've been waiting for this since the first post. Let me know how you feel about the reveal <3 as always, my asks are open!

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (38/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Merry Christmas - *narrator voice* and there was only one bed.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: HE WON IN MONACO - HE WINS IN MONZA. CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX!!!

You purse your lips. “Bed - singular. Indeed.”

Charles and you stand in the doorway of his room. On the left wall next to a chest of drawers is a door that leads into a small bathroom, while on the right wall is a double bed, freshly made up. Several pillows are neatly arranged at the headboard, the bedside tables have been dusted and the room generally looks very tidy and well-kept. At the foot of the bed are your bags, which Pascale has just put there. Your bags - because you have to share the bed tonight.

“Yep,” replies Charles, who is standing behind you. 

You nod slightly before entering the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. “What makes your mom think we're sharing a bed?” 

Your roommate shrugs. “Do you remember the first morning in our apartment? When mom surprised us and invited us over for dinner?” He raises one of his arms, puts his hand on the upper door frame and leans against it. 

You nod. “I remember.”

“And do you also remember Maman saying that, as my new girlfriend, you get to choose what's for dinner?” When you look at him with wide eyes, he purses his lips into a thin line. "I'm afraid we never set the record straight. Not even when Arthur called you my girlfriend.”

He's right. There have been several opportunities to clear this up. Charles could have called his mother or spoken to her at dinner. And you could have cleared things up too - but neither of you actually did. 

You push the thought that you didn't clear it up because you inwardly wish that you were actually Charles' girlfriend to the back of your mind. 

“Shouldn't we tell her?” you ask hesitantly. “After all, we're lying to your family.”

Charles shrugs his shoulders. “We certainly should,” he replies, but he doesn't sound convincing. “But not today. Not at Christmas. Maman loves you so much that I don't want to do this to her at Christmas. If that's all right with you.”

Pretending you two are a happy couple is certainly the last thing you should do - after all, being affectionate in such close quarters isn't particularly conducive to keeping your feelings in check. But you have no choice - after all, you don't want to spoil Pascale's Christmas. 

“I'll sleep on the floor,” Charles snaps you out of your thoughts and points to the space between the foot of the bed and the dresser facing the bed. “I'll just take a few pillows off the bed and one of the thick blankets from the wardrobe and that should be enough for one night.”

You shake your head. “Absolutely not. You're going to training camp soon and you certainly can't go there with back pain,” you remind him, planning his days ahead. “I think Andrea would kill you if you didn't show up in top shape.”

The Monegasque sighs. “And how are we supposed to handle this?” 

The look on his face is the same as when you were standing opposite each other in the living room. When he said that he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around him. When he suggested you go back to being friends. 

You miss him so much that it hurts. You'd love to get up and wrap your arms around him and never let go, but that's where the problem lies. His “mon ami” draws a clear line between what you want and what he wants. And you have to accept that, even if it breaks your heart. 

But that doesn't mean he has to pull his back out just because he thinks his closeness makes you uncomfortable. 

“We could share the bed,” you suggest as nonchalantly as possible. When he gives you a puzzled look, you shrug. “It's only for one night. And the bed is big enough for both of us. Then nobody has to sleep on the floor and Andrea won't kill you because you're going to camp with back pain.”

Charles raises his eyebrows. “Are you sure?” He takes his hand off the doorframe and walks towards you to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. I really don't mind sleeping on the floor.”

You smile at him. “It's okay,” you reply, "we're adults. We can share a bed quite reasonably. And it's only for one night. We should be able to manage that.” You look down at your hands in your lap before looking your roommate in the eye again. “I would have rather expected that we'd still have to sleep in separate rooms, even though your mom thinks we're a couple.”

Charles leans backwards, propping himself up on the bed with his elbows. “Why is that?” 

“Well - some moms don't like their sons' girlfriends because they're afraid they'll take them away from them. Their little boy.” You can't suppress a grin. “And I don't think many would want their little boy to share a bed with their girlfriend either - even if they're all grown up.”

“That would imply that my maman can't stand you,” he replies and tilts his head back. As he swallows, his Adam's apple bounces up and down. “Besides, even if we were really together, I wouldn't have sex with you in my maman's house. I have that much decency - for now,” he grins and looks at you again. “And she knows that too. That's why she allows us to share a bed.”

As he talks about sex with you, heat shoots up your face and your hands get sweaty. Hopefully he doesn't notice you wiping them on your dress. “I like your mom,” you deflect from the topic. 

“She likes you too,” he replies and sits up straight again. “Then let's not keep her and the others waiting any longer. After all, Christmas is a family holiday." He slowly gets up from the bed and turns to face you as he stands in the doorway. “Let's go, mon ami. Otherwise we'll get into trouble because she'll think we're getting it on like two teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other."

Thank God he leaves the room so that you can wave your hand in your face. His words make your pulse quicken so that you can almost hear your heart beating in your ears. Images appear in your head of his hands gliding over your body and his lips kissing your neck. 

Before your thoughts take over, you jump up from the bed and smooth down your dress to follow your roommate back downstairs, where the rest of the family is already waiting for you. You enter the living room, where the youngest Leclerc puts his arm around your shoulder. 

“Listen, when we play Monopoly later, the others will insist that you take the bank,” Arthur whispers in your ear. “If you'd be kind enough to slip me more money than I'm entitled from time to time, then -”

“Arthur! Are you trying to bribe my girl?” Charles calls over to you from the kitchen. The 'my girl' makes your knees go weak. 

“I would never do that,” Arthur tries to defend himself and pulls you a little closer to him. “I'm just talking about how nice it is that your girlfriend is spending Christmas with us.”

“You're a bad liar,” Charles grins, leaning against the worktop. “Besides - do you really think she should help you cheat if I'm playing as well?”

“No one cheats at Monopoly here, otherwise I'll throw the game away and we'll never play it again,” Pascale interjects. “I don't want my sons to get nasty again just because they can't behave in a board game.” She joins her middle child in the kitchen to take two bottles of wine from the fridge and put them in his hand. 

“Hey!” Arthur lets his arm slide off your shoulder to embrace his mom. He rests his cheek against the top of her head. “You're acting like we're cavemen.”

Pascale rolls her eyes. “Then don't act like one just because you can't keep it together in a board game. Now set the table, dinner will be ready soon.”

Together, you place plates and cutlery on the dining table as Enzo and Charlotte join you. The young woman hugs you tightly, while the eldest of the Leclerc brothers waves hello.

“It's nice to see you again,” she smiles and hugs you tightly. “You'll be the bank later - and my partner in crime, yes?” she whispers, before letting you go again. 

Charles laughs out loud. “I heard that, Charlotte,” he warns her with a grin and stands next to you. “I think it's funny that you all think she'd associate with you when she's my girl.”

Charlotte winks at you. “It was worth a try.”

As you all sit together at the table and eat, you look around the room. There are Christmas decorations everywhere that weren't there a few days ago. There's even a Christmas tree in the living room, but there are no presents underneath it. When Pascale notices your gaze, she smiles at you and puts her hand on yours. 

“We don't give each other presents at Christmas anymore,” she says, looking around. “Since -” Charles clears his throat as she swallows hard. 

“After my father died, we decided that there would be no more presents at Christmas because family is the greatest gift you can get,” he explains, pursing his lips. “Dad always gave the best presents and when he was gone, it was different for us.”

You smile at him before squeezing Pascale's hand. “Thank you for letting me be here. It really means a lot to me.”

“You're always welcome here,” she replies. “I'm glad Charles met you. You can almost see how good you are for him and how much he loves you.”

“Maman.” Charles rolls his eyes and a blush shoots into his cheeks. “This is totally embarrassing.”

“I'm just telling it like it is,” she smiles, leaning over to whisper something in your ear while the others continue to talk. “But don't you dare help him with Monopoly later. After all, I invited you here and cooked the meal. I guess I deserve a few extra bucks,” she winks, before turning her attention back to the others' conversation. 

You look at Charles, who smiles at you expectantly. “Everything all right?” he asks you. His hand, which is resting on his leg, twitches as if he wants to reach for yours. 

You look around for a moment, watching the family members interacting lovingly and celebrating Christmas together, before turning back to him. “It couldn't be better.”

-

“You're taking the piss,” Arthur complains, jumping up from his chair with such a jerk that it tips backwards. “You'll never have enough money to buy the fourth station from Charlotte!”

You raise an eyebrow and hand Charlotte the banknotes as she slides the playing card over to you. "Do you really think I'd cheat on you guys? This is my first time playing with you!”

Pascale shakes her head. “Think about it, Arthur. She's simply done well. Look at how many streets - “ she starts to defend you, but falls silent before looking at you with her head tilted back. “Where did you get the money to afford so many streets?”

“Maman!” Charles interjects. “You can't just accuse my girlfriend of stealing money from the bank just because you're losing. That's not nice. Especially not at Christmas.”

Enzo rolls his eyes. “You're only saying that because she's your girlfriend. Love has made you blind, little brother.”

Charles smiles lovingly at you. “I guess it has. But that's okay. I don't mind losing to you.”

You return his smile sweetly. “That's good,” you reply and take a look at the pitch. “Because I've won.”

The Leclercs stare at the table, puzzled and amazed, as if you've shown them a magic trick. But really - there's no way they could beat you now. 

Charlotte laughs. “I didn't even know you could actually win Monopoly. I thought it was a myth.”

Enzo takes a sip of his wine and nods at her. “You usually stop the game after three hours because you either don't feel like playing anymore or someone knocks over the board.”

“And it's usually you,” laughs Pascale and gets up from the table. “Very well. I declare the evening over for me. I'll see you in the morning,” she smiles at you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I'm very glad you're here.”

“Me too,” you smile at her and look after her as she leaves the room. 

The five of you tidy up the room and put everything neatly away in the cupboards before you say goodbye to each other as well. In the bathroom of your room, Charles and you get ready for bed and change into your sleeping clothes before standing in front of the bed that you have to share. 

“Is it really okay for you if I sleep in the bed too?” Charles asks uncertainly as you sit down on the bed and slip under the covers. 

“I wouldn't have offered if it wasn't,” you smile, patting his side of the bed. “We're both adults. And as long as it's okay for you, it's okay for me.”

Charles nods and scratches the back of his neck. “I really wouldn't mind sleeping on the floor.”

“I do.”

He can't say anything in reply. He slowly walks around the bed and slips under the covers as well. He turns off the light and lies down on his back. 

The silence between you is strange and the physical distance doesn't make it any better. You can feel Charles' body heat through your shirt and shorts and it almost feels like the last few days haven't happened. You'd love to snuggle up to him and fall asleep by his side. 

“Be honest,” Charles breaks the silence. “Did you steal money from the bank in Monopoly?”

You giggle briefly. “I did.”

Your roommate's laughter booms through the room. “I knew it! Oh my God!” You feel him turn to his side. “Welcome to the family. You're a real Leclerc now!” he laughs, barely able to contain himself. 

“Psht!” you hiss at him. “Stop laughing! Otherwise you'll give me away and I'll lose my honorable Monopoly victory!”

“Honorable?” he asks and continues to snort. “You cheated!”

“And your family asked me to take money out of the bank for them so they could win,” you grin. “They're the worst family when it comes to Monopoly!”

Charles slowly gets himself under control again. “But otherwise we're a nice family, aren't we? Otherwise you wouldn't have spent Christmas with us.”

You nod, even though he can't see you. “I love your family.”

“And they love you. Especially Maman.”

You turn on your side too, in his direction. Apparently you're closer together than you expected, because you can feel his breath on your face. 

“Is everything okay?” Charles asks quietly. “I mean - I don't want you to feel uncomfortable around me. I - I can still sleep on the floor if you want.”

“Charles,” you exhale, but before you can say anything, he continues speaking. 

“I meant what I said to you on the boat. I can't be without you anymore and I'll do everything I can to make sure you don't turn your back on me. Nothing in this world is as important to me as you.” He takes a deep breath and exhales. “I can't describe it. You're my best friend - but so much more.”

As he moves, you feel the blanket slip over your body. You want to reach for his hand, to reassure him that you will never turn your back on him, but the words stick in your throat. Not because they're not true, but because they don't cover the whole truth that's inside you. 

You love him. With every fiber of your being. 

“You're the person I think of first thing in the morning. The person I look forward to the most when I get home. When you're with me, it's - I don't know - like we're permanently out on the open sea and the sun is shining down on us,” he confesses, without even thinking about what that might do to you. 

“And I can't stop thinking about how you felt. How warm your skin is, how soft you feel under my hands. How the heat spreads through me when you touch me. It's like touching the sun and burning myself - but I can't stop thinking about how good it feels. You're my best friend,” he breathes out. “But fuck - if I said I didn't actually crave you, that would be an outright lie.”

You can feel the arousal gathering in your shorts, goosebumps spreading across your skin and heat rising in your face. When Charles suddenly moves and turns on the little light on the bedside table, you look at him. 

“I can't share the bed with you if - if you -” he stammers, before taking a deep breath to sort out his thoughts. The comforter that was covering you a moment ago has slipped so far down due to his movements that it's below his hips - revealing his shorts and the bulge underneath. 

“Charles,” you breathe, but you don't know how to answer him without telling him directly that you love him. You have to pull yourself together. 

“I can't just lie next to you because it's tearing me up inside that I can't touch you, because I make you feel so uncomfortable that you don't want to share a bed with me in our apartment anymore.” His voice trembles, as does his hand, which is resting on his thigh. 

You don't know what makes you do it, but apparently your brain goes blank and throws all doubts overboard as you lean over to him. His eyes are glued to you as you carefully place your hand on his and your fingertips touch the soft skin of his thigh. A lightning bolt twitches through your veins at the touch - nothing has ever felt as good as he does at this moment. “I never said I was uncomfortable, Charles.” You shake your head slightly. “Quite the opposite.”

Charles looks into your eyes, trying to see anything in them, hesitation or uncertainty, but the only thing he sees is warmth and a longing he knows all too well. 

He squeezes your hand twice, and when you return his squeeze and squeeze his hand twice too - he snaps.

[stariekis]

a room for two

🛋️ pairing : 엔하이픈 ot7 + gn!reader . genre : fluff . cw : kisses + skinship

— synopsis : visiting their room for the first time <3

— note : finally i had the inspiration to write smt 🙌🏻 sorry for being inactive lately babies but here you have more ot7 content ! hope you enjoy reading it, as always reposts and feedback are so welcome <3 sending the biggest kiss ^3^

heeseung :

we all know how big of a gamer he is so i know that he would have one of those professional gamer set ups in his room, the one that streamers usually have. and, as he has shown us, he collect figures too so a big shelf full of them is a must in his room. — 'this is were i spend most of my time' he said, sitting on his chair — 'now i know where you are when you don't answer my text am i right?' you answered, joking obviously. he rolled his eyes at your comment, taking you hand on his and making you sit on his lap, his hands now resting on you thighs. you admired his room, he didn't have a lot of decoration but it was so like him. — 'i think i like your room more than mine, i might come over more' you said turning to him. he giggled at your comment, you just made him the happiest boy ever. pecking your lips he answered — 'you are more than welcome doll' giving you another kiss, this one lasting more than the other one you both just shared.

jay :

i've always imagine him having the tidiest room ever. but, because it was the first time sleeping with you, he wanted his room to look ten times better. he cleaned everything up, light up candles and changed his sheets, it needs to be perfect. when you entered his room for the first time you were welcomed by the coziest room you've ever been, the aroma of vanilla flooded your nose —'you like it love?' jay said, standing on the door frame while looking at your curious figure eyeing up his room. — 'hope you do because you will spend a lot of time here from now on' he was now hugging your waist from behind. — 'i like that idea actually' you answer him, receiving a kiss on your neck from him.

jake :

his room was, to your surprise, very organized. you thought that his room would be kind of messy but everything was perfectly placed, not a single dust speck visible. — 'don't be fooled, his room is not always this tidy' you heard jay say as he passed in front of jake's room — 'WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT MAN' he shouted stepping out of his room, hearing jay laugh down the hallway right after. taking his arm and pulling him inside again you hold both of his hands — 'baby it's fine, i wouldn't mind at all' you pecked his pouty lips, he didn't want you to know (even though you would end up discovering it, but not know at least) — 'now that you know my secret i don't have to clean every time, is tiring you know?' grabbing you by the waist he lifted you off the ground and sat the both of you on his bed, spending the rest of the day in each other's embrace.

sunghoon :

he would have the most minimalist room out of them. lots of framed pics perfectly placed on his walls — 'you took all of them?' you said sitting on his desk chair, they were the first thing that caught your attention — 'each and every one of them yeah' a smile plastered on his face as he answered your question, feeling proud that you liked his pics that much. you turned around on his chair now facing him who was sitting in his bed with his camera on his hand — 'wait baby i want to take a picture of you stay there' you smile at the camera, the flash appearing right after —'why do you want a picture of me here hoon?' you asked him, getting up from his chair and making your way towards him, standing in between his open legs. he put his camera aside and grabbed your hips looking up at you — 'because i like to take pictures of pretty views and you are the prettiest one i've ever seen'.

sunoo :

i just know that sunoo would have tons of cute plushies on his bed ): so as soon as you opened the door you were welcomed by a pile of plushie on top of his bed — 'you put them away when you sleep right?' you said, he looked at you with a shocked expression — 'no i don't, how could you say something like that?' your expression changed into a shocked one — 'how are we going to fit in your bed then my love?' you said putting your hand on you hips while looking at his bed. — we will make it work don't worry' he concluded, smiling at you. the next morning you found all of his beloved "friends" on the floor, a reminder to put them aside the next time.

jungwon :

like sunoo i thing he might have tons of plushie on top of his bed, mostly fan gifts. when you entered his room and saw all the cat plushies you smiled turning towards him — 't-they are not mine they are from jay i'm just keeping them here... yeah' you laugh at his reaction, sitting on his bed and taking one on you hand you out it next to you boyfriend's face — 'they look like you thought' he took from your hands the plushie and looked at him with a smile adoring his face. sitting next to you in his bed he looked at you, sighing — 'you didn't believe it right?' you shook your head hearing him laugh as he lay on his bed, you followed right after. — 'but having that many plushie of yourself is a bit self-centered don't you think' you jokingly said, looking at his side profile. he pinched your side while mouthing a 'shut up', hearing you giggling right after.

ni-ki :

he would be a nervous wreck my baby </3 and i know for a fact that he would hide all his plushie in his closet so you won't see them, he thought that you might find it ridiculous. the idea was fine at first but his secret was soon to be discovered when you opened his wardrobe and a tiny duck plushie felt in front of you. he was laying on his bad looking at his phone so he didn't realize what just happened. you made your way towards him with the little duck on your hand — 'this is so cute why was him on your closet' he looked up from his phone but as soon as he made eye contact with the thing on your hands he rolled on his back and hid his face on his hands — 'you weren't supposed to see that babe' laughing at him you sat down on top of him putting the stuffed animal up in his face telling him how similar they were. a long night was ahead for the both of you.

[papaya-twinks]

just an assistant - l.n

Warnings: Angst, swearing, sexism, degradation (I’m in a silly mood), sex (not between y/n and lando)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - y’all are fucking feral Jesus 😍😍😍😍

Where to start, where to start?

Lando had a lavish house, but along with that, it was big, and had a lot of expensive furniture. “Y/N, don’t just stand there,” Lando rolled his eyes, sitting onto the sofa as he watched you look round nervously, your teeth nipping at your lower lip as you stood awkwardly in the centre of the living room. 

“Y/N, it’s a damn list,” Lando grumbled, flicking the piece of paper in your hand, “they work downstairs. Start with my room,”. His room. You’d be going to his room, a place that was usually kept for privacy, and he’d asked you to go there. 

Youd be lying if you said you didn’t find Lando attractive. Of course you did. He was heavenly, with his chocolate brown mass of curls, his emerald green eyes which sometimes changed to icy blue or deep brown, his slightly pouty pink lips and his rosy cheeks. But to you - he was just a celebrity crush.

Because to you, even though you knew Lando up close and personal, the chances of Lando falling for you were below even possible. But that was in your eyes. His bedroom was lavish, messy, but expensive and good anyways, his bed messy but tucked away with some signs of neatness.

You’d start on the bed. You tried to push the thoughts out your kind as you moved the hoodies and shirts off his bed, feeling oddly warm at holding Lando’s clothing. This was where he slept. Where’d he lay, and sleep, and who knows? He could sleep shirtless for all you knew, maybe even naked, and-

No!!

You couldn’t be having these thoughts about your boss. You weren’t like that. You tidied up the bed, fluffing the pillow (where he’d put his pretty curls), before collecting all the clothes, some dirty hoodies, which you placed in a wash basket to take downstairs. You’d always wondered how Lando managed to afford a new outfit for every race and just how much money he had for clothing.

So why miss out on the opportunity to take a little peek? Just to see a bit of it. And great. A walk in closet. You stepped inside, eyes wide at the masses of clothes, some thrown away, some untouched shirts and ironed items hung up neatly, ranges of shoes across little bars, from polished, clean black dress shoes, to dirty trainers which had originally been white at one point.

Surprisingly.

“Very productive, Y/N,” a voice said behind you, making you jump, turning round to see Lando standing behind you, your eyes wide as he stood there, arms crossed over his chest. “Seriously, I’m gonna need to think of some sort of punishment if you keep slacking off,”. Your eyes widened at his words, immediately shaking your head.

“No, I’m sorry, I just got distracted, and-,” you were cut off by Lando, his voice firm and stern. “You keep doing it, Y/N,” he said coldly, his eyes travelling up and down your body. “And seriously? Another minidress?” you watched as he rolled his eyes, scoffing at your outfit as you pushed your legs together, moving them together in embarrassment.

“Just…try and dress like an assistant and not some…stripper, god,” he muttered under your breath, the words not going unnoticed as you flushed. You thought you’d looked pretty. Not to look like…what Lando had said. The words hurt, use, but you brushed it off. Sometimes, Lando was a dick.

“And make fucking dinner whilst you’re at it,”. Suddenly, the wage he was paying you didn’t seem to be enough, and you’d have much rather had your shorter hours with McLaren. “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes on the floor as you walked out of the walk-in closet, eyes on the room round you, before moving to carry on cleaning.

Dinner would be made afterwards.

What you certainly did not expect to see, in your drawer, was the pack of condoms, or the lace panties on top of them. Right. Of course Lando had some girl over, you couldn’t blame him. And you certainly had no right to feel possessive, in any way. The rest of the night went by quietly, your mouth kept shut as you served Lando the dinner you made, eating your own an hour later after you finished cleaning up.

You heard the front door slam, some time during the night, around 10pm, when you were lying in bed. You didn’t make anything of it, Lando had probably gone to a party. Your eyes flickered open at shuffling around outside, a small ‘thump’, against your door making you jump. Maybe Lando had been drunk and walked into it.

A frustrated scowl crossed your face at the sound of a feminine giggle and Lando’s mumble of ‘shush, princess’. He just had to make out with his new little toy against your door, huh? Perfect. The sound of skin against skin echoed from the room opposite yours, the woman not even trying till quieten her lewd moans.

Surely he’s not that big, you thought, he can’t possibly be that good at sex to make her make those sounds. You tried to cover your ears, Lando’s groans spurring something inside of you, as you pushed it down inside of you, your hand on your ears, when suddenly, a single word made your eyes widen.

Well, not a word, a name. Your name. Y/N. That was your name. “Y/N, fuck,” Lando growled, an indignant shriek leaving the girls lips followed by a groan and a muffled snort. “Who the fuck is Y/N?” the girl shrieked, her voice annoyingly high. “Wait, please-,” Lando started, his voice muffled through the walls as you listened.

“You don’t even know my name!” the girl snapped. She was right. Lando didn’t know her name. He just needed someone to get off with, and she happened to be a little pretty. Lando groaned as the file stormed out, making no effort to stay quiet.

All Lando could do was hope the slam of the door hadn’t awoken you - let alone the moans, and you hadn’t heard your name on his lips as went to the bathroom to…deal with what had happened.

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm right here! (Oscar Piastri)

People seem to forget you're dating Oscar

Note: english is not my first language. Another Oscar piece 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: jealous themes

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Do you think this will translate as well on the track though?", Phil, the head of the engineering department, asked as you showed him the latest set of data.

"Even with the interval we've set for changes, these numbers show it could improve performance, especially in race pace", you pointed to the calculations on the side.

"We would only have it for Miami, though", he reasoned, "we don't have enough time to get this done for Shanghai and I don't think it would be wise to test this in a track we haven't raced in five years", Amelia argued as you nodded in agreement, "but it looks promising - good job, Y/N", she patted your back.

"Would you feel comfortable talking about it in the meeting with Zak, Andrea and the mechanics? You have been the one working the most with this, makes sense for you to be the one taking point. Lando and Oscar should join you as well - I think they're doing something on the Sim", William mused.

"Absolutely! Yes, Oscar said he was driving a new set up and strategy Tom also wants to discuss in the meeting", you offered with a smile.

"Having insider information makes this easier - I don't have to check every single e-mail and wonder about things, especially Oscar's schedule", Amelia chuckled, rubbing your shoulder before she got up.

As everyone gathered in the meeting room, you set your laptop up so the latest data would be seen by everyone as you spoke about the changes, "we don't think nor expect this will be ready for China, but we're hoping to have the new package in Miami already - gives us enough time to work on it and the track there is ideal for us to have an idea of how this could play out for the rest of the season", you concluded.

"I agree - I think China will be damage control racing and we're accepting it as it goes", Andrea stated.

"We just need to get going with these then and also get the guys to try it out on the- Oh! Speaking of the devil", Zak chuckled as Oscar and Lando stepped inside the meeting room.

"So that's that, I think - thank you for all your work and let's hope we can bring some points next weekend", the British driver said before everyone scattered out.

Closing your laptop and getting your tablet, you held them against your torso so you could go and set them back to your station before lunch. You didn't make it very far as Oscar stood just outside the room, his hand snaking up your back carefully as he didn't want to startle you.

"Good morning, love", he smiled, kissing your cheek and walking with you.

"Morning, Osc", you kissed his cheek back, "how was training?", you wondered.

"Same old - went for a run this time, though, it was nice enough outside", your boyfriend offered as you reached your desk, tidying it a little bit before leaving to get some lunch, walking hand in hand.

You didn't expect to fall for a driver, especially after the relationship you had with Lando. You behaved like siblings, often pranking eachother, and it had helped you grow more confident around him and the senior staff when you felt you were all but a small intern. Over the years, you grew more comfortable as your ideas and pitches would get considered and tested, finally feeling like your place was well earned and that at the right time, the development would come to bring McLaren to the top where it belonged.

When Oscar joined the team, however, you didn't expect to feel the way you felt about the Australian driver. He was handsome, very shy and very kind and thoughtful as he sat all through the meetings as you explained the changes. Jeopardising your career was something you didn't want to do, but after some not so careful touches and glances, the team assured you it wouldn't be an issue in case you and Oscar were to pursue a relationship together.

"Here's my favourite team-mate! And she brought Oscar with her!", Lando joked as you sat at the same table as him.

Swatting his neck playfully, you sat down next to him so you could face Oscar as he put his tray down, "I will revoke new updates package from you and you'll be stuck in the midfield", you taunted before you started eating.

"Do you want to spend the night at my place? I need to sort a few things out still this afternoon, but I'm hoping I can leave on time today", you squinted your eyes.

"What do you mean on time?", Lando quirked an eyebrow.

"Yesterday, she got so caught up in the calculations, I barely got a text out of her when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with me", Oscar chuckled as you held hands on top of the table, playing with his fingers, "what was it you texted me? 'I'm having a breakthrough' I think it was", your boyfriend offered.

"I did, though! Amelia checked it over and we might be onto something - I have to go to Race Base this afternoon so they can check them out", you shrugged your shoulders."We're spending the whole afternoon in the sim", Oscar checked with you, "when you get off, then we can leave together - how does that sound?".

Coming back to your place after you stopped by the supermarket, you set the bag on the counter and pulled out all of the ingredients you bought to make sure the dinner would be suitable and appropriate to Oscar's plan.

"I haven't had a proper cuddle today", Oscar pulled you to him, beggining to litter kisses on your forehead all the way to your cheeks and jaw, "I can't ever do this at the center", he mumbled against your neck, tickling you.

"We could, just where there are no other team members", you giggled before cupping his cheeks, "which happens to be nowhere most of the time", before you kissed his lips.

"I'm going to start working on the chicken", Oscar said after you stole a few kisses, "are you going to be in the Center for the race?".

"No, I'm travelling with the team", you smiled as you took the fresh pasta out of the bag, "which means we can spend more time together - and people will actually see us together", you mumbled the last part.

"People know we're together, love", he smiled, cutting up the last bit of garlic and tossing it in the pan.

"Sometimes it doesn't seem like it - they didn't see me in Jeddah and the rumours flew out of control", you wiped your hands on the kitchen towell before hugging Oscar's back, resting your cheek between his shoulder blades.

"You know how the media works - they see the smallest hint to something they want to see and then they're there", he offered, taking one of his hands to squeeze your hip, "you're the one here, aren't you?", he tsked.

.

"Where are you going?", Oscar asked as he saw you grab a tablet and push the chair back under the table, "I thought we could have some time together now".

"The stewards picked out eight cars at random to get checked over a few components - Mike and Barry are waiting for me", you offered, pecking his lips quickly, "hopefully they're just not messing around with our schedule because everything is supposed to be how it is!", you smiled before you started to walk out.

"I'll go with you, then", your boyfriend assured, "can't have you go to the wolves on your own when you can have company, beautiful".

Oscar walked up to the building with you, kissing your temple before you stepped inside, "I left some data from the sprint for you to look at, and tell Lando I also left a file for him with his tire deg - I told Will to do it, but he might forget!", you alerted before letting him go.

Knowing how long it would take, he went back to the McLaren garage, stopping whenever fans snapped a couple of pictures or autographs.

By the time you were back in the hotel room after the sprint and qualifying, Oscar went to the bathroom so he could have a shower, leaving you to lay on the bed and scroll through social media.

You looked at the photos the media team had posted, along with the stories where you could spot yourself in the background and spotted a few comments as you flicked through the carrousel of pictures, the comments under it weren't something you hadn't seen before.

Hear me out, Oscar and Elaine are the perfect match

I know, right? 😭 honestly, they need to get together! They would be so cute together

She's so polite and put together, but I get rhe vibe that she's really shy too, they would be perfect for eachother

Are we forgetting Y/N? aka Oscar's girlfriend

I still can't believe the people at the top have let their engineer date a driver

Y/N's way too out there, I call PR relationship

She couldn't even build a great car, I'm not sure why you would defend her

She was literally the reason the car and the turnaround last year and we started getting podiums?

These have been the best 12 months in terms of development, what are you on about? Just because she's with Oscar, you can't dig at her like that

The last few comments don't come up too often, but you had to admit it was nice when they did even if they did nothing to the way you felt.

The green eyed monster took over more times that you'd like. You work with numbers, probabilities and direct correlations, so it was hard to miss the reason behind how you were feeling.

"Why are you looking at your phone like that? You promised you wouldn't work once we got back to the room", Oscar warned, using the towell to dry his hair before he looked at you again.

"I'm not working", you mumbled, locking the phone and setting it on your stomach, pondering whether or not you should talk to Oscar about this.

"That long silence tells me that there is something bothering you", Oscar began, "I'm not saying you have to talk about it right now - I won't force you to -, but I'm here for you when you want to do it", he offered earnestly.

"I'm jealous of you and Elaine", you stated, earning a quirked eyebrow from your boyfriend.

"Me and Elaine? The communications' intern?", he looked for some clarification.

"Yes!", you answered loudly.

"We don't - I don't even spend that much time with her, what do you mean?", Oscar asked.

"I know you don't, but people online seem to think you should! First, it was that actress that McLaren invited for Abu Dhabi - the weekend where Natalie and Naomi kept approaching us because they wanted to chat and there was actual visual proof we were together after all the rumours -, now they're saying how you should go out with Elaine!", you admitted, "they're all saying you really should have someone and that she should be the one to go, that she has all the qualities you should look for and I-", you took a big breath in, "I'm literally over there, every single day of the races - in the garage, sometimes in the pitwall!", you stated, "I barely do any races from the Center anymore, so it's not like people forgot that I exist!".

"Love, I'd never do that to you - you're the only person I care about like that", Oscar replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone when our relationship is public - I'm there, I see them, they see me!", you let a tear fall down your cheek, "there's only so much I can do to make it obvious, Osc!".

Oscar sat down next to you on the bed, throwing the towell on the floor for the moment so he could pull you to face him.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much, I don't even notice all of that", your boyfriend craddled your face in his hands, thumbs wiping the tears that continued to fall and looking into your eyes.

"I never told you and I know you don't read all of the comments", you reasoned, "I just thought it would stop at some point! Everyone keeps saying that you should have someone and I want them to think I'm that someone - because I am!", you said bitterly.

"Is there something you'd like me to do? That would make you feel better about it?", Oscar combed your bangs away and behind your ears.

"What can we do anyway? Have you walk around with a t-shirt that says "I have a girlfriend - Y/N, the engineer"?", you scoffed.

"I will do that if you think it will help - throw in a headband with "Y/N's boyfriend" too if it helps!", he tried to pry a smile out of you.

"Don't be silly", you playfully shoved his chest before holding his hands in yours, "I honestly have no idea what to do, but I know I want it to stop without putting our jobs on the line", you pouted.

"Maybe an Instagram post from us then? Something chilled but serious enough so anyone can get the hint - and I wouldn't mind arriving into the paddock with you in the morning", your boyfriend suggested.

"Oscar, I have to be there way earlier than you need to", you argued.

"Then I'll be there earlier, I'll have breakfast there with you and we'll spend more time together in front of everyone - as much as you feel comfortable with", Oscar offered you an assuring smile, "I don't want anyone else the way I want you, I don't love anyone the way I love you, Y/N".

Smiling at the honesty and safety he was transmitting you, you kissed his lips, starting with small pecks before one last long kiss, letting your foreheads touch as you pulled away, "thank you, Osc, I love you".

The next morning, reporters were surprised when they saw the McLaren driver show up in the paddock so early, his hand laced in yours as they asked a couple of questions.

"My girlfriend had to come in earlier, so I thought I'd join her and see a little bit of the preparations", Oscar replied before you continued to walk to the McLaren hospitality.

"Is it bring your boyfriend to work day?", Anna asked after her usual morning greeting.

"He's always with me at work though", you squinted before giggling, "but I really need people to know he's mine and that I'm here!", you half joked.

[novvabee]

And They Were Roommates pt.5

Summary: you dress the boys up

“Hey Y/N love,” you hear James call from down the hall. “Would you come here for a second?”

You close your laptop, pausing what you were doing and made your way out into the hall. You noticed his door to his room is closed, meaning he must be calling from further down the hall, the bathroom. You see the door open and light on, steam wafting into the hall.

“Yeah?” You say, seeing James wrapped in a towel. This wasn’t necessarily an uncommon sight, James and You shared the bathroom so you would often catch a glimpse of him between showers. Not that you were looking! Not that you weren’t… not looking though. He was quite fit, attractive. He was practically flaunting it around, how could you not want to admire him.

Usually, he would be quite flirty, confident while in this state. But this time he looked slightly… nervous?

“Uh… y-you left something on uh the sink. And, is that… I mean I’m not judging or anything but… maybe you could just bring it back to your room?” He said, face visibly heating.

You looked at the sink, at the thing in question that would get him so uncomfortable. You saw your mascara sitting on the edge of the sink. You usually kept a quite tidy bathroom both of you, you didn’t realize leaving makeup out would be a problem, you were just in a rush and didn’t put it back into your makeup bag. But… looking at it now, it was quite phallically shaped. Wait.. did James think…

“Oh my god, no!” you started to laugh “James no. It’s just mascara, it’s makeup”

James, now very relieved, let out a breath. “Oh.. I mean, sorry it’s just.. The shape is… ya know” he stuttered. 

“I wouldn’t leave that in here” you said without thinking and instantly regretting it. “Um, I’m just gonna let you dry off. Sorry.” you said and rushed back to the comfort of your own room. That was a very uncomfortable and awkward encounter. You will have to apologize for that later.

Later came that evening when you heard a knock on your door. You expected it to be James. “Come in!” you called.

Low and behold it was Sirius who opened the door and stepped in instead. He was hearing an old Sex Pistols t-shirt and some joggers, hair half tied back.

“Oh hi Siri, what's up?” you asked 

“Just wanted to see what you were up to love,” he said with a smirk walking closer to your bed “How has your day been?”

“Oh fine! I just did some work stuff and laundry,” you looked up at him and smiled a bit. “Had a slightly awkward run in with James earlier.” you joked.

Sirius raised his eyebrows and smirked knowingly “Oh yeah,” he said, “James mentioned to us that you keep your sex toys out on the counter.” 

You felt mortified, reddening instantly. “No! That’s not-” you started but were cut off by a booming “SIRIUS” from downstairs followed by feet bounding up the stairs, most likely a just as embarrassed James.

“I’m joking, i’m joking” Sirius laughed “I know it was makeup- James calm down-”

“I told you that in confidence-”James started talking over Sirius, now standing in the doorway.

“-I know it was makeup and I was wondering if you had any nail polish.” Sirius finished.

Nail polish? Why would Sirius need nail polish? “Yeah, I have some… why?” you asked.

“I want you to paint my nails.” Sirius shrugged as if it were obvious. 

“Oh, ok yeah I can do that, come sit.” you patted the bed. You looked at James “you too?”

“Oh no.” he said, still standing in the doorway. “Can I just watch?”

“Course, come on over.” you made space for both the boys on your bed and found your nail polish box next to your bed, pulling it up and showing Sirius all the colors you had. He settled on black (of course) and gave you his hands. They were rougher than you’d imagined, and much bigger than your own.

From here you could really get a good look at all the tattoos on his hands and arms. The ones on a majority of the space of his hands, they looked like symbols, runes. It made his fingers look longer. It made him more mysterious and… hotter.

You delicately dipped the brush into the pot of polish, then dragged it over his nails precisely, trying not to shake or smear any on his skin. It was hard when he was so close to you, his face very near, trying to watch what you were doing closely. You felt his breath on you and you didn’t hate it, it just made you have to concentrate a lot harder.

You then took in the fact that James was also quite close, also trying to peek at what you were doing. They both seemed very intrigued, and you couldn’t complain, not when they were both this close to you.

Once you were done, Sirius pulled his hands back to examine your work, seeming quite happy indeed. “Careful not to smudge them now, Siri. it helps if you blow on them or wave them in the air to dry.” he nodded and started flapping his hands.

“Slumber party?” you heard from the doorway. It was Remus.

“We were painting Siri’s nails.” you smiled at him. He walked into your room lying halfway on your bed and propping his head on his hand. 

“Well let’s see,” He said to Sirius. Sirius smiled and proudly showed his freshly coated hands to Remus. “Ah, classic color.” He looked up at Sirius and smiled. “Nice work, love.” he turned to you.

“Thank you, Remmy.” You liked this, the closeness, the intimacy that the boys brought to your room. It felt quite nice to have them all on your bed, hanging out with you, doing nothing in particular. You decided that you wanted this moment, this feeling more often from here on out. “You know what goes well with painted nails?” you ask.

They all looked at you with intrigue.

“Pretty dresses.” you laugh.

“No. Absolutely not.” Sirius started, but James was already on his feet walking over to the closet, ready to pick out a dress. 

“Please… you owe me for teasing me earlier.” you say with a fake pout, batting your eyelashes.

“Really laying it on thick aren’t you,” Sirius sighed “Ok fine.”

You giggled and looked at Remus “You too Rem.”

“What? Why me?”

You shrugged your shoulders “Entertainment?” you replied

Remus thought it over for a moment, sighed, then stood. You cheered and jumped to your feet, rushing over to the closet.

You handed the boys dresses and sent them to their individual rooms to change, feeling giddy and happy that they were willing to be silly for you. 

“Ok you ready?” you heard James call.

“Ready!” you called back. You covered your eyes and waited for James to give you the all-clear.

“Ok” he said. You instantly started giggling.

He was definitely a sight to behold. He was much too muscular for your dress, looking slightly ridiculous. He did a little spin for you and you couldn’t help but laugh harder. He couldn’t even zip it up, and the dress that came to about your mid thigh, barely covered James' ass. You could clearly see his boxers. He turned back to face you and flexed his arms. “I think this is a good look.”

“ I think so too.” you laughed in reply, trying to settle yourself for the next boy. “Ok, ok, next boy please!” you called out.

Sirius burst through the door and strutted to the middle of the room. You gave him a longer, flowy dress, and he was definitely feeling it. The dress was a bit high-watered on him, but at least he could zip it up slightly. His chest tattoos were on clear display, being that the dress was quite low cut.

You and James whooped and wolf called him, only adding to his confidence. Once Sirius caught a glimpse at James he was cackling, clutching his stomach and doubled over.

“Ok,ok you two,” you said “ Next boy!” he said and clapped your hands twice, signaling the entrance of the final boy. 

But there was only a hesitant “uh…” on the other side of the door.

“Oh come on Remus we both did it!” James called.

“Yeah, you’ll look lovely Moons.” Sirius joined.

“No. I mean I have it on but… I’m afraid this is quite indecent.” he said.

The boys already could not contain their laughter. You just furrowed your brows. What could he mean? You walked yourself over to the door and opened it, about to ask what he meant… but then you saw.

Now, all the boys were much taller than you were, but Remus was much taller, and you forgot this when you handed him one of your more risque, short, tight dresses. The dress did not cover his lower half at all. His entire pair of boxers were on display. He covered up, just in case, and waddled in. If he were to wear this out in public, he would definitely get arrested.

You had no words, the other two were laughing so hard, James on his knee, looking like he was trying to catch his breath, and Sirius wiping tears from his eyes. Remus wasn’t upset at all, he was laughing too, looking at the other two ridiculous looking boys. 

This turned into a night that you would not soon forget, especially since Sirius got lovely polaroid pictures of all three of them separately and in a group shot… and his favorite of the night, one of all three of them kissing both your cheeks.

Taglist 💌: @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4 @giuli-in-earth @spicybearnaise

[cold-kitty]

Remember the Yandere Neuvillette fic? Well you know that one meme that goes like "I have two sides"? That's how I am with Neuvillette. On one hand, I like to think of him as the sweet goober that was in that fic. On the other hand? Well...

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Contains: NSFW (not with darling), murder (not darling), Neuvillette is quite literally insane, Neuvillette is slightly rough with darling (not sexually), abuse of power, mentions of kidnapping, stealing darlings things, Neuvillette has masochistic tendencies

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Yan!Neuvillette who hires you as an assistant. you tidy up a bit, bring him things he needs, just normal things.

Yan!Neuvillette who stares at you, stares. he only works half of the day, the rest of that time is spent staring at you.

Yan!Neuvillette who will invite you to lunch everyday, insisting that he pays even though you want to. oh don't worry, it's not like it's a date. even though it should be...

Yan!Neuvillette who will steal your used napkins, spoons/forks/chopsticks, leftovers, anything that you've touched or put your mouth on.

Yan!Neuvillette who takes those things home with him, swiping the saliva off of them and is immediately tugging down his pants.

Yan!Neuvillette who is definitely physical with you. hugs, patting your head, hooking your arm in his, standing a little too close to you, etc.. but he's very insistent with it, and he doesn't care if you turn down the offer, it only makes him squeeze you harder than usual (which is abnormally hard for someone who's supposed to be platonic with you).

Yan!Neuvillette definitely swipes some of your clothes, gaslighting you that you didn't wear it. gloves? no silly, you didn't wear any.

Yan!Neuvillette who also finds the cologne you use, spraying it on all over his room, especially his pillow.

Yan!Neuvillette is a pillow fucker 100%, his pillow is constantly nestled between his plush thighs as his hips move feverishly against it.

Yan!Neuvillette who talks to his pillow, pretending it's you. begging it, whining with it, holding it as if it were a person. p-please love- ngh... please please please i wanna cum, please- darling please l-let me- hah- cum...

Yan!Neuvillette who has fantasies of you randomly bending him over his desk, ripping his clothes apart and absolutely ravaging him.

Yan!Neuvillette who has a certain ache for pain with you. slap him, kick him, hit him, bite him, strangle him, he'd even let you cut him for Christ's sake. make him bleed and cry, bruise him and make him sore. anything that you do is ecstasy for him, and he would love you to have power over him like that.

Yan!Neuvillette who goes batshit feral when you're affectionate with someone. teeth gritted, body twitching, eyes wide with rage, but he would never ever do anything to hurt you, so he simply slits the persons throat.

Yan!Neuvillette who will quite literally tweak the law just so he can have an advantage, making loopholes so he can legally kidnap you. the government doesn't even need to know, he'll just change it whenever he wants.

Yan!Neuvillette who will stop at absolutely nothing to have you, he'll kidnap you, blackmail you, threaten people you love, anything.

Yan!Neuvillette who - if pushed to this point - will accuse you of a crime and label you guilty, sentencing you to 'behavior correction' with him for the next year.

Yan!Neuvillette who really, really doesn't like the look on your face when he takes you to his home, as much as he likes having power over you, it makes him feel sick. you're crying, begging him to understand that you haven't done anything wrong, that you were framed.

Yan!Neuvillette who won't hurt you unless you try to run away, and even then it's only a few smacks on the back with a wooden paddle. he hates your tears.

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There are only two Yandere Neuvillette's (in my opinion), the sweet baby from the first fic, and whatever rabies infested rat this is.

~🐈‍⬛