#and then fell in love w his best friend who was helping him raise his kid

[nanaslutt]

The wrong place at the wrong time

snopsis: you walk in on a particularly interesting facetime between gojo and geto in which gojo tries to convince geto that the prostate is magical thing, but he needs your help in convincing him

contains: fem reader, sub!gojo, geto is on the phone while you and gojo fool around, dirty talk, prostate milking, anal fingering, hand job, masturbation, bisexual satosugu

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

..."You what?" You stopped in your tracks in the hallway in front of Gojo's bedroom, staring incredulously at the white-haired man lying on his back, one knee propped up, his arm outstretched above him, Geto's face filling up the phone screen. "Oh? Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?" Gojo asked, covering his mouth as he snickered behind his hand.

"Your door is wide open and you practically just screamed at the top of your lungs that you've fingered yourself before, was I not supposed to hear that?" You asked, your face scrunching at your own words as if you couldn't even believe what you were saying.

"I don't care if you hear~" Gojo cooed, his hand dropping back down to his chest. "Is it really that surprising?" Geto's voice chimed in through the speaker on Gojo's phone. "What's that mean?" Gojo chipped, turning his neck to pout at the dark-haired man, his soft hair falling graciously against the sheets around his head.

"I think he means you're shameless, Satoru." You said, crossing your arms over your chest, leaning against his doorframe. Gojo smirked, unable to deny your words. "You always have been one to talk brazenly about your endeavors in bed... like you were just doing." Geto agreed, his deep voice coming out smooth and sultry through the phone.

"Well, you asked if I had any ways to spice up your alone time... since you're too scared to go find a hookup~" Gojo outted the man, resulting in a tsk from the speaker. You shouldn't be standing in the doorway still, but this conversation was too intriguing to walk away from.

"I didn't mean fingering my ass, save that for the people who really love it. Like you, apparently." Geto deadpanned. Gojo sat up in his bed, his hand placed behind him as he held his phone out in front of him, pouting at his best friend. "It really does feel good, I'm telling you It'll change your life~" Gojo cooed, raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man.

"I bet my roomie can attest too, I hear you whimper through these thin walls late at night when you think I'm asleep," Gojo revealed, turning his head to look at you. Your jaw dropped, words failing to find your tongue as you stared at him dumbfounded. Yeah, you absolutely should've minded your business.

"W-what the fuck?" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat up at Gojo's unexpected words. You heard Geto laugh through the phone, followed by a quiet "Does she really~?"

"Since when was this conversation about me now?" You said, your face scrunching in displeasure as embarrassment flooded your body. How was all of the attention suddenly on you? "It's okay, everyone gets horny, so no need to feel all shy about it~ You sound really cute anyways, you have nothing to worry about."

A loud groan fell from your lips, your hands uncrossing to cover your face, your displeased noises becoming muffled from how hard you pressed your hands to your face. Geto's laughter became hysterical at your dismay. You felt a headache start to come on.

"Heh~ further proves my point though, fingering yourself feels good Suguru~ I don't want you to come crying to me when you're 80, complaining about how you wish you would've tried it when you were in your prime," Gojo said, raising his chin smugly.

"With your eating habits, you'll be lucky if you break 60." Geto quipped, "Anyways, I wouldn't even know where to start." He confessed, Geto's voice coming through softer, honest. A sinister smile formed on Gojo's face as Geto's words reached his ears, an idea popping into his head. His eyes falling on you made your body tense where you stood, wondering why he was looking at you again. You thought you had successfully escaped being the center of attention.

"Wanna help me show Geto how good your prostate can feel?"

The words fell from your roommate's lips as nonchalantly as he had just asked what you wanted for dinner. You kept your hands over your face, your fingers cracked over your eyes so you could see him. You felt a blossom spread in your tummy at his proposition, what did that even mean? How would you have any involvement in this? You didn't even have a prostate.

You felt your heart rate pick up, the organ beating faster in your chest as you stood underneath his awaiting gaze, trying to wrack your brain for the right words to say. Your eyes darted around the room as you tried to escape his eyes long enough to think of a reasonable reply.

You and Gojo have lived together for 2 years now. The two of you practically joined at the hip, courtesy of Gojo who had no concept of personal space and hated being alone. Gojo liked to refer to your personal space as 'our personal space' you had grown used to it.

The childish man could be obnoxious and crass sometimes, but he also had a strange sort of charm to him. He was very observant of your needs, and somehow always knew what you were thinking. Not to mention he was undoubtedly easy on the eyes, no matter how annoying he was--and you would be lying if you said a few of those nights you spent alone in your room with just your fingers to keep you company that Gojo had referred to; hadn't featured said man in your fantasies as you fucked yourself.

After going over these facts and losing yourself in your own mind as you did so, you decided on what you were going to say back to Gojo. Snapping back to reality by dropping your hands to your sides and making unsure eye contact with Gojo, you spoke. "H-how would I help?" You didn't realize that those very words had sealed your fate.

—

"D-deeper cmon~ touchin' me like you're scared I'm gonna break or something." Satoru teased, wiggling his ass back into you. You felt your face heat up at his words. Well sorry... I've never exactly fingered someone's ass before, excuse me if I'm a little tentative... you shot back in your head, opting to just bite your lip and take his jab in the world outside of your head.

Gejo had placed his phone on his five-foot tripod on the side of the bed, giving Geto a perfect view of Gojo who was laid face down ass up, with you sitting on your knees behind him, a bottle of lube by your thigh, the cap was still undone in case you needed more. Your finger was about halfway into Gojo's ass, slowly and shallowly pumping into him. He was right, you were afraid he was going to break, afraid that if you moved too suddenly, you would hurt him.

The camera was angled near the end of the bed so Geto could also see Gojo's hungry little hole swallow up your fingers, making him palm his large hand over his cock at the sight of it pulsing around you. "You listening Suguru?" Gojo breathed, his head lying against the sheets, and turned to the side so he could see Geto staring at him, and a little sliver of your blurry, shy face.

"Oh, I'm listening," Geto responded, squeezing his hand over his tip as he spoke. He didnt want Gojo to know how much this was affecting him; watching his best friend get fingered by his cute roomie; so he kept his camera on his face for now, keeping the minstrations on himself to himself.

"G-good... you better take it all in for when you try this later~" Gojo cooed, confident that Geto would actually try this. Geto nodded, jerking his hand over his clothed cock harder as he pretended to listen to his words. A choked moan from you brought the attention you detested so much to be centered on you once more. "You okay there?" Geto's voice chirped teasingly through the phone, his eyes taking in your flustered face.

"It's... It's in." You whispered, your words barely being loud enough to be heard through the phone. "Your finger?" Geto asked you, keeping his voice and face monotone as he slid his hand underneath the band of his sweats, his growing arousal needing more than over-the-clothes touching to be satiated.

You nodded, a deep blush spreading across your face as you relished the feeling. Gojo was so tight around you, even tighter than your cunt felt when you touched yourself. "Yeah, I can feel it too, so stop teasing me and move it already~" Gojo groaned, pushing his hips back against your finger, slick from the abundance of lube you used.

You swallowed hard watching Gojo fuck his hips back against you, the motion only resulting in your finger jolting around slightly, not enough to give him any real stimulation. "O-okay." You mumbled quietly, before you pulled your finger out, and screwed it back in. Gojo breathed out through his mouth, relieved you were finally moving.

"How's it feel?" Geto chimed in, his hand now tentatively stroking over his cock, his sweats and boxers alike pulled halfway down his thighs. Gojo grumbled, pouting dramatically against the sheets before he spoke, trying to angle his head to look at you the best he could from his current position. "Feels like I have a finger in my ass," Gojo replied with a short giggle.

Geto hummed in response, tilting his head at his companion through the phone. "Though you were gonna show me how good your prostate feels?" Geto teased, slowing his strokes over his cock as he waited for the real action to happen, not wanting to blow his load too soon. "I would if my cute roomie started listening to me~" Gojo cooed, disguising his jab at you in his teasing words.

You knew he was immediately referring to how gently you were being. Curse you for being curdious of his most sacred place in all of his body. "Fine, you want it harder? Don't come crying to me if you get hurt." You said with a sigh, shaking your head. You placed your free hand on his ass, giving yourself some leverage before you started fingering him properly.

"Yeahhh~ Cmon, give it to me~" Gojo cooed, that annoyingly cocky tone laced throughout his voice. His unaffectedness to having your finger in his asshole made you want to wipe that smirk off his face and replace it with a more desperate look. You tried to be nice, but clearly, that wasn't what he wanted.

Geto watched you carefully as you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, readjusting yourself on your knees closer to Gojo before you pulled your finger out of his hole and grabbed the lube, spreading it across two fingers this time. "Hey, I said give it to me not pull out complete- ahh!" Gojo's complaint was short-lived when you thrust both of your fingers in his ass to the hilt all at once.

Gojo gasped against the sheets like the wind had just been punched from his lungs, his eyes wide as he stared at the wall in shock. "You're so impatient Satoru." You shot back, starting up a decent pace on his ass, your fingers colliding against him causing the fat of his ass to ripple under your hand as you held him steady. Geto laughed at how fast Gojo's expression changed from cocky to desperate, the sight making his cock twitch in his hand.

"A-ah- ah-" Gojo softly whimpered, his hands curling around the pillow under his head for comfort as you fingered him. Your pace now felt words better than your sloppy, slow one just seconds prior, but something was still missing. He needed you deeper, lower. Your fingers just barely ghosting over his prostate was not nearly enough, he needed you to jab directly into it, to abuse it with no remorse.

"Deeper baby, a little deeper," Gojo instructed, the teasing in his voice long gone, now replaced with a carnal need. "Angle your fingers down, curl them down like you're trying to touch my stomach." You quickly took his words into action, wanting to see him crumple under your hand. "You know all the tricks, huh?" Geto chimed in, wishing so badly he was there right now.

What would be his role? Would he be the one fucking his fingers into Gojo's ass while you sucked him off? Maybe he would have you lean forward so he could eat your pretty pussy out while you fingered Gojo, both options sounded delicious. His hand sped up as he lost himself in his fantasies, his free hand curling into the sheets as his eyes stayed glued on the two of you.

You angled your fingers down, towards his tummy like he had instructed, and jabbed your fingers in, curling them when your fingers fucked into his ass to the hilt. The guttural moan Gojo released sent shivers down your spine. "Oh fuck- right there, do that again-" He begged, his arms tightening around his pillow as he shamelessly wiggled his hips back against you, trying to get your fingers to hit that spot inside him again.

Your face scrunched in pleasure as you repeated the motion, feeling a walnut-shaped ball under your fingers each time you curled them inside him. "Ohmyfuckinggod-" Gojo grits through his teeth, his teeth clicking together each time his jaw opens and closes in pleasure. "That looks like it feels good, Satoru," Gojo smirked, the only tell of his arousal being how a light blush spread across his face. Pretty impressive considering how much he was leaking on his fingers from how hot he felt watching the show the two of you were putting on.

Gojo tried to open his mouth to respond but you had gotten more confident with his unabashed moaning, your fingers pistoning in and out of his tight ass, drilling straight into his prostate. "Ah- ah- ah-" The white-haired man moaned so prettily, all the sounds coming from his body being music to your ears. "Does that feel good, Satoru?" You ask, your words coming out more timid than you would've liked.

Your roommate nodded profusely, an adorable red blush spread across his cheeks as his eyes rolled back in his head from how good he was feeling. "So f-fucking good- Ngh- feels so- intense! Nghhhh-" Gojo whined, his words coming out choppy and slurred from the whines being fucked from his body.

“Oh fuck baby- fuck- fuck my ass baby ohmygod- harderrrr-“ Gojo slurred, whimpering into the sheets like some slut. You pressed your thighs together, your clit throbbing at his desperate show of his need for pleasure.

Geto pressed his lips together as subtly as possible, trying to appear unaffected as he rapidly jerked his hand over his cock, matching your pace inside Gojo's tight hole. His camera was shaking slightly with his movements, but he was feeling too good to care. The both of you were quite preoccupied anyway, it's not like you would notice his camera shaking anyway.

"Grab his cock pretty girl," Geto instructed, his eyes falling lower with his arousal, a warm heat flooding over his body. You looked over to the camera, making eye contact with Geto, who kept his unwavering eyes on yours, his eyes slightly glossed over with his arousal.

"Yeah- y-yeah, m-my cock, touch my cock-" Gojo jumped in, a drunken smile plastered on his face as he tried to look at you over his shoulder, his pink face nodding profusely. You looked away from Geto to look down between the white-haired man's legs, your eyes finding their target--being his long, thick cock that dangled heavily between his legs, a steady drip of pre-cum dripping from the tip of his cock each time your fingers hit his prostate.

"Been watching his poor cock leak since you started this, the tip is so red," Geto added, his voice failing to sound as unaffected as he would've liked. If Gojo was in the right headspace, he would've teased Geto at the fact that he just admits to staring at his cock throughout this whole endeavor, but alas, he was too busy drooling and whimpering against his sheets to tease anyone right now.

Blushing, you abandoned your hand that was placed on Gojo's soft ass to drop it between his legs. The second your lithe fingers wrapped around his neglected cock, his whole body jerked harshly, almost like it was trying to escape your hand. "Fuck-" Gojo grit, wincing at how sensitive his cock was from being neglected for so long.

"Oh shit, bet it's sooo much right now, huh?" Geto asked his best friend. Gojo's eyes found Geto's through the phone screen, tears welling up in his pretty blue eyes as you immediately fell into a quick rhythm, your hand jerking over his length at a pace that matched the one inside him. Gojo could only nod pathetically, his face scrunching in pleasure as your hand focused on his tip, jerking over the sensitive red head quickly, causing cute squelches to echo throughout the room.

"You're so wet, Satoru." You whispered in awe, your mouth dropping into a small o as you milked his cock, the pool of pre-cum on his sheets between his legs making it look like he had already cum several times--you had no idea how he still had so much to give.

Gojo's body jerked around, the tears that had welled up in his eyes finally fell down his rosy cheeks, over the slope of his nose, and joined together on his pillow. "Fuck- please p-please- Nghhh- A-ah-" He didn't know what he was begging for. He was unsure if he wanted you to stop, or give him more. All he knew is that it was all so fucking overwhelming; having everyone's attention on him.

"Talk to us Satoru, how's it feel?" Geto asked, his words coming out more like begs as he felt himself steadily approach his orgasm, his hand focusing on his tip just like yours was doing on Satoru's. "I- I don't know I- fuck it's so much- too much-" Gojo answered, his eyes twitching and rolling back in his head.

You showed no mercy, jerking your hand faster over the entire length of his cock you stood on your knees and pistoned your fingers into his prostate more directly with the new leverage, resulting in Gojo's ankles crossing and kicking up at the intense pleasure. "I thought you wanted it rough? Do you take it back? Want me to stop?" You asked teasingly, knowing you weren't going to let up even if he begged you to stop.

"No! Nonono don't stop p-please don't stop-" Gojo cried, his head jerking against his satin pillowcase as he fought through the intense pleasure, his body jerking and spasming without his permission. "He's a fucking mess, look what you did~" Geto laughed, his dick twitching with interest at Gojo's teary, drooling face.

"Ahhh- ah- right there- keep f-fucking me right there-" Gojo gasped, his hands digging into his pillow as his eyes squeezed shut, his orgasm welling up in his tummy. "I think he's gonna cum pretty, is his cock twitching?" Geto asked, knowing very well what the telltale signs of a man's orgasm were.

You nodded, Gojo's cock was throbbing profusely in your hand, and his tight hole was squeezing more consistently around your fingers as well, almost like a heartbeat--it was so cute. "Oh yeah, you're gonna cum aren't you Satoru? Gonna cum from a few fingers in your ass? Hmm?" Geto teased, taking a sharp inhale in through his teeth as his own hand sped up, his cock twitching in his hold.

Satoru nodded, unable to voice his thoughts. Unable to scream from the top of his lungs, "Yes! Yes, I'm going to cum!" Instead, his jaw fell completely slack, drool pooling out of his mouth and onto the sheets as you worked him right up to his orgasm.

"Me too, look at me Satoru, look at me." Just moments before Satoru was pushed over the edge from your merciless fingers, he cracked his teary eyes open and was faced with Geto's long cock filling up the expanse of the phone screen, his massive hand jerking quickly over his length, making it almost look blurry from how fast he was going.

The visual of his best getting off to his ass being pummeled was all Gojo needed to be pushed off the edge. With a high-pitched cry of your name, his shaky hand shot back to grip your wrist as the first rope of his orgasm shot out of his cock, adding to the pool of his cum already between his legs, soaking into the sheets.

His hole squeezed tightly around your fingers, acting as if he was trying to snap them off, keeping them deep inside him. “Don’t stop- D-don’t stop” He begged pathetically, his wrist being dragged with you as you kept thrusting into him, working him through his high.

You moaned with him in awe as his body was wracked with tremors, threatening to collapse against the sheets. “I won’t, I got you Toru, I got you.” You consoled, paying special attention to his tip as you milked him for all he was worth.

Gojo’s thick cum made a mess of your fingers. Most of his hot cum landed on the bed sheets, but when someone cums as much as he does, it only makes sense that you got some on your fingers.

“Oh fuck- so pretty-“ Geto groaned, his jaw muscles clenching under the weight of his teeth as he came. You and Gojo both watched as white streaks of cum landed on Geto’s abs and thighs, the squelching on his own cock got louder as his cum acted as lube over his cock, increasing the already messy slick on his length.

“I didn’t realize you were getting off to this Geto.” You said, your chest heaving with your own arousal as your eyes flit back and forth between Gojo’s tight hole and Geto’s cock on the screen.

Through his groans, you heard him laugh as you watched him wring out his cock, making sure all of his cum had released from his cock. “How could I not? You guys are so fucking hot.” His gruff voice spoke, the camera flipping back to his handsome face.

You and Gojo both silently mourned the loss of the view of Geto’s cock. Although it was fairly hard to be disappointed when his pale face came into view his cheeks dusted in a deep pink, sweat beading on his forehead, his chest heaving as he tried to recover from his orgasm.

“H-hey-“ Gojo whined, his strength returning to his body as he gripped your wrist he had a hold of, signaling you stop moving inside him. You mumbled a quick ‘sorry’, you had gotten distracted watching Geto cum, forgetting you were pleasuring your handsome roommate underneath you.

You slowly pulled your fingers out of his ass, Gojo whined dramatically at the loss, his hole clenching around you in sensitivity. “You don’t wanna let me go, do you?” You giggled, your fingers finally slipping free of his tight hole.

“Fuck no~” Gojo giggled, the cloudiness slowly clearing from his brain, allowing his signature snarkiness to come back to him. Geto laughed as he set his phone down, you watched out of the corner of your eye as he wiped his softening cock clean with a towel.

“Suguru~” Gojo called in a singsong voice, his body collapsing on his side, his cock twitching limply against the sheets. Your hands rubbed along his thighs as he relaxed into the bed, noticing how a cute red flush was also dusting along his thighs and shoulders. Adorable.

“Were you paying attention? You have to admit that looked nice, right~?” Gojo asked teasingly, raising his eyebrows at the dark-haired man through the screen. Gojo’s ability to bounce back from even the most intense prostate orgasm was astonishing.

“I think it looks nice on you, sure.” Geto laughed, throwing the towel he used to clean his cock to the floor, grabbing his phone back in his hand as he laid back against his bed, throwing his arm behind his head.

Gojo pouted, rolling on his back to look at you for help with puppy eyes. “What are you looking at me for?” You asked, sitting back on your heels as you jerked your head back, looking around the room for anyone else Gojo could be looking at.

“I thought you were gonna help me convince himmm.” Gojo drawled, his arms pushing himself up to sit on his ass as he reached out for you. You blushed as you let him pull you into his arms, your hands falling on his chest with a surprised noise as you sat on his thighs, just under his cock.

“I could only do so much you know…” You said, avoiding his eyes as his hands made a home on your upper thighs, stroking the skin teasingly. “Maybe you should‘ve cried a little harder!” Geto chimed in, winking into the camera.

Gojo pouted, wiping his hands over his still-wet cheeks to rid the evidence of Geto’s teasing. “So all of that was for nothing then?” Gojo asked, looking between the two of you incredulously, his hand that had whipped at his cheek slapping back down onto the skin of your thigh.

“No, not nothing,” Geto said, looking smugly into the camera. You and Gojo looked to Geto confused, waiting for him to elaborate. “I discovered how bad I wanna fuck you both. That’s not nothing, right?” Geto revealed nonchalantly, making you and Gojo’s jaws drop in tandem.

You felt your face heat up at his confession. Maybe you hadn’t convinced Geto to play with his ass just yet, but you had unknowingly convinced him to play with something even better.

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Hi! I saw that your request box was open. Could I request a Alastor x fem!reader who is a mornigstar, charlie's older sister and she is engaged with Alastor. In episode 5, Dad beat Dad, I thought their relationship is kept secret and was revealed later on shocking lucifer and their friends

Dad beat Fiancé beat Dad

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Reader / Alastor x Morningstar!Reader Tags: hurt/comfort, (a little bit of) fluff, secret relationship/engagement, Alastor vs Lucifer, Morningstar!Reader, Fem!Reader Warnings: language/swearing, kiss, argument/bickering, reader is Charlie’s older sister, English is not my first language! Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and secretly engaged to Alastor. When your sister invites your father to the hotel to ask for his help with her rehabilitation program, you look forward to his arrival. However, things take a turn when tensions escalate between your father and your fiancé, leading to heated bickering. Overcome with frustration, you finally lash out and accidentally reveal your engagement to the King of Hell and the hotel's residents. Wordcount: 5.4k A/N: This one turned out so long! I really hope you like it and that the story meets your expectations! English is not my first language so I want to apologize for possible grammar and spelling mistakes. I really tried my best to make as few mistakes as possible!

“Well, I’m actually running a hotel to rehabilitate sinners. Maybe you saw our commercial,” you heard your younger sister speak into the telephone, releasing a nervous chuckle here and there. Then a sigh escaped her lips. “Listen, dad, I’ve got kind of a big ask…”   You stood a few feet away and stared at her, unsure what to think of this whole idea. Was it really that smart to ask your father to organize another meeting with heaven? The last one already didn’t end well. But what other choice was left for you? Still, it released a weird feeling inside your guts, now that you watched Charlie calling your dad, since your and your sister’s relationships with him were kind of… special. Your father tended to distance himself from the both of you for the most time, bathing in his own emotional dilemma and not even trying to do anything about it. Thus neglecting the both of you. Well, at least he called your sister five months ago regarding that meeting with Adam in heaven’s local embassy. But when it comes to you it’s been even longer since you’ve talked. Maybe a year? Or even longer. You didn’t actually know and also some part within you didn’t even want to. But what you knew is that you missed him. Although, in contradiction, you weren’t really fond of him at the moment. It’s not that you didn’t love him. He was your father, regardless, and you both shared a lot of wholesome and fun memories. But since your mother had left him seven years ago, things had turned out strange and you didn’t really approve of his weird-ass behavior towards you and your sister. Still, you hoped your father would agree to help you out. Maybe, just maybe, there was a probability that you saw him again. You had so much to tell him. Your life has changed a lot since you started supporting your sister in the hotel. And even before, when you met Alastor…

Lost in your thoughts you missed parts of the phone call and as your consciousness returned to reality, you saw your sister taking the phone down and ending the call. Curious about the outcome you cocked your head. “What did he say?”

   “Well,” Charlie stared at an empty space for a brief moment, “it seems that dad will be coming over.”

   Your mouth fell agape and your eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, really?” you asked her and a huge smile grew on your face. “That’s awesome! When?”

   Charlie proudly straightened her back and stemmed her hands into her hips. “We have an hour until he gets here.”

   You turned around to face the other residents who sat on the couch and raised your voice, “Okay people. Dad’s on his way, so we’re getting this place presentable and we are all going to make an amazing impression. Let’s go!”

   That’s when Vaggie spoke up, “That’s a great idea! Husker, Angel and I will go get some decorations for the lobby,” her eyes wandered down to Niffty, “Niffty, you and Sir Pentious will bake some cookies so we have something to eat when it’s time for coffee.”

   Nifty nodded exaggeratedly, almost vibrating from that force she put into her motion. She instantly grabbed Sir Pentious’s hand and dragged him down the hallway towards the kitchen. When Husker, Angel and Vaggie went to get the decorations from the storage room you and Charlie were left alone. 

   “Are you as excited as I am?” You asked her with a moving voice and examined your sister expectantly. It was no secret that Charlie took that whole situation with your father a bit differently from you. While you almost imploded waiting to get a chance to meet him again, your sister was more reserved and kept herself a bit more distant from him. Even though she was the one your father seemed to favor when it came to dealing with the conflict with heaven. It didn’t matter that you were the older daughter… 

   “Ahm… I don’t know,” Charlie responded nervously stroking her neck, “I mean, yes, I am. But at the same time…” She hesitated and you put your hand on her shoulder.

   “Don’t worry, sis. I can understand,” you reassured her with a calm voice and smiled at her with genuine eyes. You could feel her shoulders relax under your supporting gesture.

   “Thank you,” she responded and returned your smile. “It’s just… You know, since he and mom split, I often don’t feel like his daughter anymore. Yet he sounded very excited to come over.”

   You took a deep breath and removed your hand from her shoulder. “We’ll see how things are going when he arrives.”

   Charlie chuckled. “Well, I think you should go and inform Alastor about our special guest,” she requested, raising her eyebrows in concern. Charlie was the only person at the hotel who knew about your secret relationship with him. When you decided to knock on the door to propose your support to your sister, you and Alastor were already dating. In fact, you were the one who dragged him here because – regardless of his fearful and sketchy reputation – you knew he’d make a great hotelier and protector for the residents during future exterminations. But you both didn’t introduce yourselves as a couple right away. Instead, you found common ground in letting your sister know but keeping it hidden from the other residents. There were several reasons you both had decided against making your relationship public: Alastor’s reputation as the Radio Demon, yours as Lucifer’s oldest daughter, the gossip, the media… These and many more were all things you didn’t want to deal with. Especially since Alastor was a very private person who despised showing affection outside his private space and you, as a person who had no desire to brag about your partner, were totally fine with it. What happened in private chambers stayed in private chambers. That was your agreement, and if you let your friends know about your relationship, there would be too much risk that it would eventually become public. The only other person next to Charlie, and outside the hotel, who knew about your and Alastor’s connection, was his decades-long friend Rosie.

Repeating your sister's request in your head you nodded in agreement. It was the best to prepare Alastor. Even though an hour alone wouldn’t be long enough for him to digest the fact that he was about to meet your father. “Oh, I think he’ll be excited about the news,” you responded with a sarcastic tone and couldn’t help but release a malicious laugh. Oh, how much he will hate this...

You heard Charlie laughing along and shaking her head in amusement. But as quickly as the amusement appeared, it disappeared as you continued to think about the fact that Alastor was actually going to meet your father. With a deep breath you dropped your smile and lowered your voice. “Do you think it would be a good idea to tell dad about Alastor and me?”

   “Ahm…” Charlie seemed to think about it more carefully before commenting, “I actually don’t know… I wish I could tell you but that’s something you and Alastor have to decide. First of all, I’d wait until after they had their first impressions of each other. Then… maybe… introduce him to the truth? I mean, if you and Alastor plan to stay together, what I hope – I mean… It’s obvious, why else would you date if it isn’t for staying together?” She chuckled at how much she was lost in her words and cleaned her throat. “I’m sorry. What I mean to say is that it would be beneficial for your shared future if you let dad know. At least at some point in the future.”

   You nodded in understanding and gifted her a slight smile. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll talk to him about this later. First of all, I need to prepare him for meeting his soon-to-be father in law.” You laughed and excused yourself before you left the lobby and went upstairs.

   When you arrived at Alastor’s radio station you knocked on the door.

   “You may come in!” you heard Alastor’s dulled voice through the door and opened it. When you entered the radio station you immediately saw him sitting at his desk, leaning over some papers and holding a pen in his hand. When you closed the door, he placed the pen to the side and turned to look at you.

   “Why hello, darling,” he greeted you, his signature smile on his face but his red eyes revealing a neutral expression. “What brings you here?”

   “Well...” You took a deep breath and strolled towards him with your hands folded behind your back and your lips pressed to your teeth. “I’ve got some news for you that you’ll probably hate.”

   “Oh?” he responded curiously and tilted his head to the side. His red hair swayed with the movement.

   You arrived at his desk and leaned against the tabletop, your front mostly faced towards him. You tilted your head in the same direction as he did and couldn’t manage to suppress an amused smile. “My dad will be here in less than an hour,” you said with a cocky voice and watched Alastors expression shift as his lips curled up around his smile and his eyes immediately twitched. An awkward silence fell over the room before he broke it with a snippy tone, “You’re right. I hate that news.” His neck returned to a straight and more natural position and you chuckled.

   “Vaggie’s the one to blame. She came up with the idea that Charlie should call him to ask for help because she could no longer bear seeing my sister ripping her hair out in despair over her missing rehabilitation success,” you explained and a growl escaped Alastor’s throat. He already didn't like Vaggie and now he probably liked her even less.

   “Splendid,” he said without enthusiasm and stood up from his chair, grabbing his microphone cane and leaning on it. Now taller than you, you had to tilt your head back to be able to look him in the eyes. “How about I excuse myself and disappear for another set of seven years?”

   “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no,” you responded, raised your index finger and waved it in front of him. “You will stand your ground and behave. It’s just my dad.”

   “He’s the king of hell, darling.”

   “And that's why you'll be going down there and prove to him that you're a worthy partner for his princess daughter.”

   He gritted his teeth and your smile widened as you nonchalantly brushed the wrinkles out of his coat.

   “Are you questioning my abilities, darling?” He asked, placing one of his hands on top of yours, thus stopping your movements and squeezing it.

   You felt your cheeks blush at his affectionate action and stepped closer to him, your body now close enough that it almost touched his. You could feel the warmth radiating off him and tilted your head slightly, your eyes still locked with his. “No, I’m not. And that’s exactly why I want you to do as I said.”

   “Oh, is her dear royal highness misusing her mightiness to give me an order?” he asked with a low and unusually soft voice and a shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you loved it when he became flirty. His charm was able to captivate you instantly, weakening your legs and waking those tingling butterflies in your stomach. He removed your hands from his coat and pulled you closer to him. Your body now touching his, you felt the urge to rest your head into the crook of his neck but resisted.

   “She indeed is. And you better behave, peasant,” you teased him back and Alastor narrowed his eyes at you degrading him like this.

   He let go of one of your hands and instead cupped your cheek before using his fingers to lift your chin up. “You seem to forget that I’m your finacé”, he purred, leaning in closer until only a few inches separated your noses from touching. His hot breath stroked your face and you could’ve sworn that his eyes had turned to a darker hue.

   Without further hesitation he pulled you into a tender kiss. His lips brushed over yours and you leaned in closer, succumbing yourself completely to him. Your free hand roamed up and slid through his hair, pressing his face closer to yours. After a few moments of togetherness both of you let go of each other.

   “We should return to the foyer. My dad can arrive any minute,” you said and stroked his cheek before heading towards the door. You could hear Alastor sigh behind you.

   “Just as a reminder: I can’t promise you things will go well.”

   You rolled your eyes as you left the radio station together. “At least try.”

   After you entered the foyer most preparations were already done and it didn’t take long until your father arrived. Your body was shaking from excitement as you and Charlie went up to the door and your sister opened it.

   "Charlie!,” your father shouted with joy. A huge grin sat on his face and his yellow eyes sparkled as his gaze fell on your sister who stood much closer to him. He held out his arms and approached her, pulling her into a hug. “It’s so good to see you!”

   “It’s good to see you too, dad,” Charlie pressed through the tight hug of her father, overwhelm and a little bit of uncomfort in her expression.

   When Lucifer let go of her his eyes fell on you. "Y/N! You’re here too?” his pupils dilated in surprise and you immediately found yourself wrapped in his arms as well.

   “Dad!” you greeted him as you placed your hands around his torso and squeezed, the soft fragrance of his cologne entering your nose. He smelled the same he always did, the scent taking you back to the past when your family was still together and healthy. It was wonderful to be this close to him after such a long time and you wished this moment could last longer. You looked to the side and saw Alastor standing near your sister. But what you didn’t see was one of his eyes twitching at your father’s gesture.

   You let go of each other and Charlie held out her hand, spinning and pointing at the lobby. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

   The other residents greeted him with waving hands from afar and your father smiled back at them, walking through the lobby and letting his gaze wander around. “Wow, this place looks, uh…” he twisted his mouth in an unpleasant manner and frowned, searching for the right words. He chuckled nervously and you and Charlie exchanged glances as he stammered around, turning to the side and surveying the establishment as if he was a property inspector. You could tell that nervousness spread across Charlie’s face as she probably hoped his words wouldn’t be too dismissive. You shrugged your shoulders at her to dismiss your father’s unsettling behavior and followed him.

   “What do you think, dad?” you dared to ask him in hopes he’d come up with a response a little faster if you pushed on him a little.

   “It’s got a lot of character,” he eventually said and winched with a squeak when he turned around and laid eyes on the bar. “What in the unholy hell is that?” he asked repulsively and pointed to the swampy-looking counter decorated with skulls and two full snake skeletons wrapped around the poles. The green wood paneling disrupted the noble red wallpaper of the looby, making it appear like an eyesore amidst the otherwise mostly luxurious decor.

   A dark shadow crawled around the floor and took the form of Alastor who appeared right next to him. “Just some of the renovations we had done! ” he explained, pointing his cane at the bar, his signature smile wide and confident before he turned towards Lucifer and leaned on his cane. “Adds a bit of color, don’t you think?”

   “And you are?” Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows, a skeptical tone in his voice.

   You, again, exchanged glances with Charlie and held your breath. The moment has come in which your father and your financé had their first contact and somehow you got the feeling that this won’t end well. Your sister seemed to be fearing the same and she stepped closer to you. Her presence calmed your tension at least a little. 

   “Alastor,” your finacé introduced himself, “Pleasure to be meeting you, sir. Quite a pleasure!” He shook your fathers hand and you could see the disapproval in both their eyes, before they let go. Your father grimaced while Alastor wiped his hands over his coat.

   This most definitely won’t end well. But before you and Charlie could say something, Alastor continued, “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life.”

   You breathed in sharply. Your father didn’t seem to take his comment well as his expression immediately turned to annoyance. You and Charlie both approached them, your sister standing next to your father while you kept closer to Alastor. You really hoped that he’d notice your disapproval over how things were going and slow down a bit. But you knew him well enough to be sure he wouldn’t notice the tension in the room and also wouldn't care if he did.

   “Who is this?” your father asked, his eyes fixated on the demon before him. “Who’s this now? Are you the bellhop?”

   Alastor laughed in response. “No! I’m the host of the hotel. You might’ve heard of me from my radio broadcast,” he explained.

   Your father pretended to ponder his words for a very short moment but then denied with a derogatory snort. “Nope! I guess that’s why Charlie called it the ‘Hazbin Hotel’?” He laughed at his pun, this time more maliciously. The tension grew stronger and you didn’t even realize that you held your breath and pressed your fists so tightly together that your nails painfully stung your palms. Your sister, on the other hand, nervously rubbed her hands.

   Hiding his offense, Alastor piled into your father’s laughter, “It was actually my idea.”

   “Well, it’s not very clever!” your father responded, increasing his laugh.

   Alastor did the same and leaned in closer, “Fuck you.”

   “Alastor!” you yelled at him in shock and disbelief over his rude words and took him by his arm, dragging him to the side while your sister shoved your father into the other direction.

   “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you scolded him with a lowered voice to keep your conversation as private as possible. He’d never been someone who cussed so why did he have to do this now of all times?

   “He started it,” Alastor explained, keeping his face turned in the other direction to avoid eye contact.

   You breathed in sharply, anger boiling within you as you hissed, “I don’t care about who did what. You were supposed to make a good impression!”

   “Excuse me, dear, but it seems that your father and I don’t get along. And this seems to be based on mutuality. I don’t know if you noticed this but he already looked at me disapprovingly before we even exchanged words.”

   Oh, you did notice this. But you didn’t care because in this moment it was important for both of them to at least pretend to tolerate each other. You couldn’t afford your father and your finacé to already disembowel each other during their first encounter. Important aspects of your shared future relied on their correlation. And… Was Alastor even listening to you?!

   You snatched his cane out of his hands and spinned it around.

   Alastor finally turned to look at you, his teeth gritted and his eyebrows pushed together. His gaze became softer as he eyed your expression but he still seemed tense.

   “You’ll put this right, Alastor. Or otherwise…” You don’t finish your sentence and instead poke the pointy end of his cane between his ribs.

   “Fine,” he growled and took his cane back.

   You both turned around and saw Charlie pushing your father in your direction, her arm resting on his shoulder while she talked to him insistently with a calm but worried voice, “Without Alastor, we wouldn’t have been able to pretty it up this much!”

   Alastor took a step closer, tapping his fingertips on his cane. “Charlie has a very unique vision,” he started and stood next to her, forcing himself to sound as honest and courteous as possible, “I am happy to fulfill her bizarre requests.”

   “Thank you, Alastor”, your sister responded, ignoring your frowning father who looked anything but amused.

   Alastor continued, “Quite an impressive young lady. We’re all very proud of her.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and Charlie gave him a genuine smile before he let go and turned towards you. “And her sister, Y/N, well…” He laid his red eyes on you with a genuine and almost loving smile and rested his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in an almost unnoticeable but reassuring manner. “She’s an extraordinary being. Introduced me to this very special place so we can give her sister all the support and assistance she needs.”

   You smiled at him, grateful that he followed your request to at least try to make things right.

   Your father growled and narrowed his eyes as he noticed the way Alastor looked at you, the demon’s hand on your shoulder triggering his already strained nerves. He snatched his head in the other direction to face your sister. “Charlie… Why don’t you introduce me to your other friends?”

   “Oh, yes, of course!” she called out and walked up to the other residents. “This is Vaggie. She’s my girlfriend!” She pulled Vaggie with her who shyly raised her hand in a reserved greeting gesture.

   Your father laughed and his mood immediately switched from annoyance to excitement. “Oh my golly! You like girls? So do I! We have so much in common!” He pulled Vaggie in a rushed embrace, letting her go as fast as he got close to her. “She’s beautiful!”

   You felt your heart sink in your chest at your father’s opposite reaction to your sister’s partner and a strike of anxiety hit you at the thought of telling him the truth about you and Alastor. It wasn’t only the fact you both were a couple that made you this insecure but the fact that you were even engaged to him.

   Alastor seemed to sense your inner tension and squeezed your shoulder again, now with more pressure and you were grateful for him that he hadn’t removed his hand yet. His closeness was exactly what you needed at this moment. You moved a bit closer to him, hoping that you both didn't appear too close in the other eyes, and breathed in his scent while your thoughts raced in your head. You reviewed the events again and realized that Alastor was right. You had little reason to be so angry (only) at him because your father didn’t really behave either from the first second. Hopefully you could somehow dismiss this conflict as a matter of miscommunication between them.

   You watched your sister introduce your father to the other residents which he seemed to get along with very well – contrary to your finacé who seemed to be the only one he immediately despised.

   You sighed and that’s when your father turned around to face the lobby. With a determined expression he raised his voice so everybody could hear him, “Well, it looks like I could give you some help. With a little bit of alakazam,” he wiggled his fingers, indicating a magic spell, “we could turn this place into something much more appealing! I mean, who needs a busboy now that you got the chef?” He faced Alastor with narrowed eyes and poked his elbow teasingly into Charlie’s side.

   You could feel Alastor’s grip on your shoulder tightening. His smile turned into a strained grin as he obviously thought about saying something. You begged that he kept his mouth shut to not reinforce their conflict… 

   “Well, Charlie…” your father continued before Alastor could even say something, “I’m not almighty but I could give you a lot. Almost anything, if you ask for it. You know, normally, I’d charge a lot for my help but since you’re my daughter and I love you with all my heart, it’s a matter of course I do it for free. Unlike that sketchy prick who probably has some devious intentions in his mind.” He raised his cane and pointed at Alastor.

   Charlie blinked a few times and pressed a nervous and drawled ‘Thank you…’ through her uncomfortable smile. It was obvious that she didn’t approve of your father’s comment but she also didn’t want to increase the drama by intervening.

   Alastor took his hand off your shoulder and leaned on his cane. “At least I’ve been here from the start,” he commented and eyed his claws with a hint of arrogance.

   You breathed in sharply but tried your best to keep your patience up as Alastor continued his monologue. “Let's not forget that I’ve always been faithful to you, Charlie. I support you, care for you and this hotel, and execute whatever you demand”, he exclaimed with such confidence that it was almost awkward listening to him.

   “That’s true,” your sister responded carefully with a grateful smile on her face and your father rolled his eyes. “You know, dad, Alastor does a lot for the hotel and its residents.”

   “No matter his capabilities, because sometimes, Charlie, there’s no substitute for pure angelic power, which – not to forget – also happens to be your blood!”

   “Dad…” Charlie sighed and you growled, the anger cooking inside of you.

   “Sadly, there are times a birth parent is a dud,” Alastor interfered again, his grin still as prominent as always but his eyes narrowed, darting invisible arrows at Lucifer. He straightens his back to appear even taller in comparison to your father, the arrogance undeniable in his expression. “Seems like the family you chose is better.”

   “You’re such a loser!” your dad spat out.

   “And yet here you are proving me right with every word you speak,” Alastor snatched back.

   “You know nothing, you prick!”

   “Well, unlike you, I don’t abandon my responsibilities!”

   “How do you dare question my commitment?”

   “At least I care for your daughters.”

   “Oh you tacky little piece of–!”

You jumped between them. “Shut the fuck up! Both of you!”

 you yelled as your anger burst through the walls you’ve tried to maintain hold of. Your voice cracked with the strain of suppressed fury and your appearance began to morph into a much more demonic form as pointy horns grew out of your head and your eyes turned a gleaming bloody red. “I’m sick of you bickering like children, you fucking attention whores! Is this how you get your kicks, by not being able to keep your mouths shut over such trivial nonsense? Do you even realize how goddamn irritating it is for the rest of us to be subjected to your constant squabbling? You know each other for ten minutes and already start pushing each other to the limits!”

   “Y/N–,” Alastor tried to interrupt you but you stretched out your arm, pushing him away from you.

   “No, Alastor, back the fuck off!” you scream, looking up in his red eyes and poking his chest angrily with your index finger. “Everytime I tell you to keep your shit together and make a good impression, you make things worse!”

   Your head snatches around and you now stare at your father with the same fury in your eyes. “And you, dad, stop your irresponsible nonsense and don’t taunt him as if he were a punching bag for your own insecurities!” Now you poke at your father’s chest, towering over him with floating hair and fire in your eyes. “Because Alastor’s right! Where have you been all the time? Instead of helping us and supporting Charlie in her project, you didn't even contact us! Especially not me! The last time I heard from you was over a year ago! And now you come here, finally ready to help your daughters, and the moment you arrive you start lashing out at my fiancé to deflect from your own mistakes because you can't stand the fact that he was there for us while you preferred to wallow yourself in your depression!”

   Silence fell over the room when you finished your rant, all eyes locked on you in shock and disbelief over your courage to attack the Radio Demon and the King of Hell himself in such a manner. Your heart raced, pumped your blood through your veins with such a pressure that you felt your whole body pulsating under your tension as relief washed over you.

   “Y–,” your dad tried to say, stuttering and completely overwhelmed by your confrontation and what you just revealed to him. “You–, Your… fiancé?” He ripped his eyes open, his mouth agape in disbelief.

   You breathed in heavily and closed your eyes for a brief moment, realizing what you just revealed, before you opened them again and responded to his question with a much calmer but also weak and tired voice, “Yes, dad. Alastor is my fiancé.”

   “What the fuck?” you could hear Angel exclaim in the background but ignored him.

   “Well…” your father hesitated. He struggled hard to find the right words and put his hand over his mouth, rubbing his skin like a stress ball. “Well, I’m… Wow…”

   Alastor approached you, his steps echoing from the high walls in the silent room and he put his hand on your shoulder. Feeling his touch through your blouse, caused a jolt of electricity to rush through your body. It erased the rest of your anger and your appearance returned to your normal form. Alastor’s presence calmed you down to an almost relaxed state. You felt the need to lean on him but resisted because everything that just happened was already enough – for you, for your father, your fiancé and all the other residents who were forced to witness this nerve-wrecking spectacle.

   You watched your father’s gaze roam over Alastor’s presence, from his head to his toes and from his toes back to his head.

   “I–, I don’t know what to say… Uh… I–... I’m speechless,” he stuttered, unable to look away from the man that stood next to you and encouraged you with a little but meaningful gesture and with who you wanted to spend the rest of eternity with. “I–, excuse me. I need some time to think.”

   Your father indicated to turn around and leave as your sister grabbed him by his arm, holding him back. “Would you like me to give you a tour around the hotel?” she asked him reassuringly in hope he would agree, what he then did.

   “Yes. Please.”

   Your sister gave you an encouraging look before she turned around and guided your father towards the stairs, Vaggie following right after to accompany them.

   Now, you and Alastor were alone with Angel Dust, Sir Pentious, Husk and Niffty. All of them stared at you, speechless. Especially Husk appeared a bit traumatized by your accidental announcement.

   “So… Mister fancy-talk-creepy-voice managed to slide into the royal family?” Angel asked you with interest but you raised your hand, interrupting him.

   “Stop it, Angel.”

   The spider demon pressed his lips together in a thin line and hummed.

   You turned towards Alastor. “Are you mad?” you asked him, afraid that you damaged his trust by revealing your biggest secret you had sworn to keep.

   Alastor leaned his head down sideways to look you in the eyes. His grin was replaced by a genuine smile as his red eyes surveyed your expression. “It’s alright, my dear.”

   He looked over to the other residents, walking a few steps closer to them and cocked his head in an unnatural and unnerving way. His antlers grew in size with pointy ends while his eyes changed to a black color with red, moving radio dials as irises. “If you dare say a single word about mine and Y/N’s relationship outside of the hotel, I will tear you apart and hang your guts as flags on the hotel roof so everybody will be able to see what happens if you dare gossip about the radio demon and his lady.”

*****

[leclsrc]

in so deep ✴︎ cl16

genre: friends to lovers, charles has a huge crush and is a lovesick bloke, smut, humor, Fluff 

word count: 13.1k  

It takes you many cities, a botched Halloween costume and a failed break-in to realize how much Charles likes you. It takes Charles several years to realize he doesn’t need to do much to have you like him back. title from this

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, praise central, size kink, unprotected sex

auds here… thank u for all ur love during my periods of being awol .... i wrote this over the course of a week and i hope u all like it!!! its very much a self indulgent thing... :P

The first time Charles realized he liked you, you were both posed for a picture.

It happened at a dinner party in London, in late autumn, thrown by you to celebrate your first year on the paddock as a reporter. Few friends had been invited but, with how noisy everyone was and with the ease of conversation, it felt like a houseful of people in your narrow dining area. Lando was in front of the mirror, tipsy, demonstrating his best rendition of an Irish accent to a genuinely interested Alex and Lily. 

Max was playing with your pet cat, Gene Kelly, and mentally plotting a heist to sneak him out with Pierre’s help. Your boyfriend, Liam, was making himself a cocktail. And Lewis had been roaming around with a glass of dry wine and his brand new film camera to document the night’s festivities—but the host was nowhere to be found. Unbeknownst to everyone, full off dinner and tipsy off cocktails, you’d ducked into the balcony to find where Charles had run off to for the night.

The music was muffled when you shut the door, leaving it ajar just a little bit. Lissie had played Cocteau Twins and was singing whatever gibberish lyrics played, fully drunk off a bottle of Tito’s. Still laughing over her predicament, you turned to Charles and refocused your attention on him. Is it boring?

What w… what is? He asked, turning to you. Briefly his eyes flitted to your hand, the bracelets clasped onto your wrist. He noticed you held matching bottles of beer but yours remained full, nail tapping idly on the semi-opaque glass.

My party, you responded wryly, cocking your head to the side. A loose tendril of hair fell over your eye and he itched to tuck it back in place, thumb over your ear. You continued, still pressing for an answer. You left to smoke but you didn’t come back. 

I like the view. A half-lie but truthful in some way. He squinted to try and make out blurry, faraway signage. I should move here. Monaco makes me sick. He tried to say it jokingly, but was betrayed by the raw tone of his voice. You hummed quietly, to signify you were listening.

So move. Who’s stopping you? You smiled slightly. Aside from your ludicrous career, of course. 

You had a natural disposition of—something. He didn’t quite know how to describe it, almost like the rest of him had yet to catch up with something only his heart was already decided on. You spoke and acted with some kind of smoothness that only the most popular kids in secondary school could have reins over, but you always claimed you weren’t very popular in your teenage years. He just knew he liked hearing you talk, watching you smile. He felt something—but he didn’t want to name it even if he knew exactly what it was. Instead he played into your joke. Yeah, I’ve been told I should move to Dubai instead, become a prince.

You laughed aloud. You are terribly unfunny, you know that?

Am I? He asked. Just then, as the cotton of his tee brushed against your bare shoulder, Liam brashly tugged the balcony door open to find you. He had this drunk smile on his face, brushing his blond hair out of the way and raising a Leica to the two of you.

Hey, I got Lewis’ camera. Smile, Liam had said, eyes squinted behind it. You remained still, half-turned to the camera, and Charles gave a smile whereas you remained in a neutral, half-smiling pose. And right there, at that very moment, as a giggle escaped your lips from having to pose so quickly and even awkwardly, Charles realized with a damning force that he had a massive crush on you.

Liam had left shortly after to resume taking pictures, but would later confront you over your “weird, odd, fucking closeness with the Monegasque bloke” that you would vehemently deny despite a gut-churning feeling boiling low in your stomach. But that’s later. Your conversation continued calmly, along the passive whir of London and the streets below. You both people-watched as you thought of things to say—finally Charles said, Are you interviewing me next weekend?

I always try to get out of it when it’s with you. You rolled your eyes, feigning irritance, then smiled to break the illusion. I think so.

I’ll make sure I have good answers. You’re too smart. Hurts to be in the same room. 

Like you aren’t, you said back, but the rebuttal is shy in nature, like he struck you with a compliment so high you couldn’t bear to return it. He felt then like this was the kind of moment where you would start holding hands any minute, timid touches between clinks of bottles. He remembered Liam existed and screwed his eyes shut. He wished so hard to be able to kiss you. Abandon all sense and just kiss you.

—

“It’s 2023 and still London has the most rubbish ass, fucking cunt, stupid wanker stoplights,” Lissie huffs beside you, checking her watch. “Right then. We’re going to be late. You know how Lando is when people are late. Especially because this is his event.”

“We’re not people to Lando,” you reason, tapping the steering wheel. The ETA on your navigation app tells you you’re still twenty minutes away. “We’re his best friends. If he can’t forgive us, we should kick him out of the group chat.”

“Ooh, and add Alex,” Lily pipes up from the backseat, where she’s redoing her eyeshadow to pass the time. “I keep telling you guys he’s funnier than Lando.” Both you and Lissie make faint, vague sounds of dissent and she grunts again, deflating.

“No boyfriends in the group chat,” Lissie repeats an age-old rule that’s been around for as long as you three (four, including Lando) have been friends. “Or girlfriends, in Lando’s case, but we haven’t worried about that much, have we?”

You’re all en route to watch Lando crank out a brand-new deejay set, one he’s spent the summer break working on. It’s all house and inspired by beach music, and he’s very proud of it, so of course you’re all showing up to laud him. You’re not the only ones, though, apparently—whoever’s in the city is showing up to show their support, which includes a whole stretch of drivers.

“Oh, my God!” Lily says all of a sudden, eyes wide at something on her phone; you both gesture for her to show you and she does with speed. “Do you guys remember this? God, Instagram archives are a godsend.”

“Your dinner party in Chelsea!” Lissie coos, immediately sidling into a fond awwww! You tap at the story Lily had then posted: a video of everybody eating. You tap again to view the one she posted a few days later, which was a collage of Lewis’ camera scans he’d gotten developed overnight. There in the upper right corner, you almost immediately spot your photo with Charles.

“Oh, Christ, that picture.” Memories of your subsequent arguments with Liam flash past your head. Playfully, all you say is, “And I never had a boyfriend again.”

“Liam was an Irish arse, anyway.” Lissie scoffs. “Nobody liked him. Lewis joked about cleaning his camera after he used it that night. Plus, you actively avoid dating, so don’t complain.”

“Fair,” you say with a slight smile. Your mind lingers on the picture, the imprint of it burned fresh into your mind. 

“You—it’s also because you can’t take a hint, babe.” Lily says matter-of-factly. “Who knows how many guys have, you know… fancied, or, like, had crushes on you, and you just never knew?”

“Are you saying somebody fancies me?” You ask, voice whittling out playfully as your eyes count down the seconds to the green light.

Funnily, silence is all that answers. Beside you, Lily and Lissie exchange a look—one that communicates their years-long amusement over your cluelessness. You whirl back to them, eyebrows raised, and double down: “Wait. Does somebody fancy me?”

“No!” Lily ekes out; you don’t miss Lissie’s poorly-hidden laugh. “No. I’m just—it’s just—no.” 

Truth is, it truly seems like the only person in the entire paddock (team and Sky Sports staff included) who hasn’t caught on to a certain somebody’s boyish crush is the crush herself, oblivious as ever, even years and years later. One might think you’d have realized eventually, but perhaps owed to your type A personality and immersion with work, and Charles’ pathetic and total inability to express how much he likes you, the crush has always remained just that, despite your two friend groups’ best efforts to hint at it.

It wasn’t to say, though, that you didn’t sometimes entertain the idea of liking him, too. On that one rainy race weekend when he’d brought you a plastic cup of soup, and embarrassed, laughed sheepishly at Lissie’s joking request for one; then returned twenty minutes later with soup for everyone in the media pen. Or that time in Monaco where he’d pretended to be your boyfriend at a bar to ward off a creepo from hitting on you any further. Or another time, in Budapest, when he’d drank half his body weight in jello shots and slurred out a goofy, heavy I’m soooo sorry, baby while you helped him into the passenger seat of his car.

That one, singular time in Cancun you told your friends once and never again.

But those are isolated incidents, you suppose; plus, dating someone you work with has never seemed like a remotely good idea to you, and you don’t think it ever will.

For all your thinking on the topic, you fail to realize that you don’t know much at all—you don’t know the fact that Charles has liked you for years, after getting to know just how charming and funny you were as a friend. You don’t know that he still gets gut-churning butterflies when he sees you, hands shaky and face tinged pink. You miss the fact that he’s not had any long-term partners in the years of his liking you. You don’t know anything. 

“Don’t lie.” You narrow your eyes as you rev the car and continue the trip. 

“We’re not,” Lily says loudly and a touch too defensively, crossing her fingers. Quietly, she continues, “You should just pay more attention.”

Whatever she meant to say is lost on you as soon as you make a left and spot the club Lando’s at, already teeming with high-profile guests and their high-profile cars. Half an hour later you’re in—valet and being on the guest list effectively cuts your entrance time in half. You separate at the entrance—you, to find Lando; your two girls, to find your reserved table. You find him eventually, busy behind the booth churning out high-frequency tropical music; he pauses for half a beat to flash a huge grin and a thumbs-up before redirecting his attention to the knobs and sliders you can’t seem to guess the functions of.

These kinds of parties are affairs in and of themselves. They mimic the afterparties during the season—nothing if not shows of opulence and networking: champagne paid for by business magnates, yachts that barely make dents in anybody’s wallets, thick CVs, fruity cocktails spilled on pieces of clothing that cost upward of 3000 pounds. You make eye contact with at least seven skeevy businessmen before you spot your friends, but only because you hear them first—by them you mean Lissie, her loud voice raised even more to match the noise at this club.

“I said I didn’t fu—ugh—I don’t want ye fahkin’ champagne,” she slurs out to an old man in a pressed suit, eyebrows knitted angrily. “Got it?!” Behind her, Lily and Alex (who’s arrived now, apparently) watch, concerned and helpless to stop her but equally (perhaps more) entertained.

You step closer and make a move to calm down the exchange taking place, but somebody whispers a “hey” in your ear and startles you. You turn, and come face to face with Charles. His black tee accentuates the breadth of his shoulders, which you connect to his crossed arms; there’s a shy, boyish grin playing on his face. “Oh, Charles!” You smile. “Hey! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin, straining to raise his voice. “You look—you look well. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m—” You turn to your three friends nearby, and to Lissie’s argument heating up. “I actually have to go.” You raise your thumb, jabbing it toward them. “But hi again… again!” You both laugh, but he laughs much louder. “I’ll see you around.”

“I jus—” He says, and you stick around for a second to hear him say what he has to say.

“Yeah?”

He clears his throat and laughs stiffly, abandoning his previous statement in favor of a new one. “I just…. want… to have a great time.”

“Ohhhh,” you holler, nodding, clearly trying to mask your extreme confusion under a polite smile. “Okay, well… go ahead!”

You smooth down your dress and laugh again, evidently more forced but, unfortunately for Charles, not any less pretty.

You carry yourself in a very pretty, graceful way, loud and quiet at the same time, like your confident voice when you’re holding the mic and asking questions or making drivers laugh. He might sound creepy, though, a touch too observant, if he tells you so. He observes you instead, for a second, the low cut of your dress and the way the red overhead light shines on your exposed collarbones—and then you’re leaving. He watches you walk over to hug Lily, realizes how stupid he’s sounded, and smothers a hand over his face, humiliated. 

—

“I just want to have a great time?” Max’s jaw drops and he shakes his head, disappointed above all else. “Charles, what the actual. Like…. fuck?” They’re all camped out at the latter’s hotel room, around the dining table, in varying states of sober and doing different things to wear off the last hour of the night before they’re all due to train or debrief again in the morning. Charles had relayed the disaster of the night to everyone at some point, but Max is the last to hear of it; this, unfortunately, does not inoculate him from the shock and secondhand embarrassment.

“Pierre told me to—” Charles starts, forlorn.

“Oi, no. I told you to say something like I just wish… I’d seen you sooner,” interjects the Frenchman with a tut. “You know, flirting? Not… whatever the fuck you said.”

“I didn’t—I was—I lost my mind,” he groans, burying his head in his hands. It couldn’t possibly be entirely his fault when you looked so pretty tonight, hair down and a wash of glitter on your eyelids. Just subtle little flecks of them. They brought out your eyes, too. And your blush, the pink flush of it that sat high on your cheekbones.

“…llo? Charles.” He blinks and sees Carlos’ deep eyes, wide and staring right at him, so pointedly he’s genuinely startled.

“Jeeesus fucking Christ. What?” He places a melodramatic hand over his chest. “Yeah?”

“What do you mean with the”—Carlos mimics his confused expression—“I asked you a question, tonto.” 

“Don’t bother with him,” chimes in Pierre, half-distracted by his phone. He looks up with a devious smile and continues. “He’s still thinking of Miss Reporter of the Year.” A round of loud, jovial laughter makes its way across the table, a few teasing quips being chimed in here and there.

“I just,” mocks Pierre from across the table, adopting a sing-songy tone as he bumps his shoulder to Carlos’ with a mocking laugh. “Wanna have a great time.” His voice is much higher and more mocking, which is enough to send Charles into a fit of petulant embarrassment.

“This isn’t sixth year,” he grits out quietly, but the blush on his face could just as well be plastered on the cheeks of a twelve-year-old. “Give it a rest.” 

“Mate.” Pierre’s voice mellows into something more austere. “You do know she’s leaving the reporters’ job at the end of the season? She’s going to London full-time. No more seeing her all year round. You know this. And I keep telling you. If you are really, and I mean really, interested, I say go for it. C’est la fucking vie, yeah?”

“Plus, if she says no, you can go for pretty much anyone else, anyway,” concludes Max with a convinced smile.

“It’s not the same,” he admits helplessly, smothering his hands over his face in bleak frustration. Behind his eyelids he sees you still, beautiful and smiling and funny—he seriously needs to institutionalise himself before he goes even more mad with the years-long malady he’s called a crush. And seriously, for a twenty-something to have something he calls a crush is despicable in itself. He feels juvenile.

“I can’t tell her. She’s always told people that dating coworkers is a bad idea.”

“You’re not coworkers.”

“We’re—well, we still work closely together. It is the same.” He groans. “It’s just… I’ve said it before. If I admit I like her, things will become awkward. I’d rather we remain friends.”

“Well… see, nobody said you needed to tell her,” begins Pierre schemingly, eyebrows raising. Around them, everybody groans at the birth of another Pierre-brained scheme that will, no doubt, need the enlistment of everyone’s help and will likely end in disaster. “What?! I’m just offering… I’m just saying, mate—you’ve liked her since forever. Why not make a move?”

“—I can’t—”

“Without telling her?” 

“Pierre,” groans Carlos, ever the voice of reason, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t—whatever this is you’re planning, it’s going to go to shit. I swear.”

“You are acting like I plan to take somebody hostage.” Pierre shrugs. “You know, girls like when you don’t tell them straight up. You have to show you like them. You know, be interested in the things they’re interested in, compliment them, make them laugh. And then they think, oh, how thoughtful, oh, how adorable, and before you know it, they like you. And you’ve got yourself a girlfriend.”

“Mmm. Uh-uh. Untrue.” Max says decisively, shaking his head. “I told Kelly I liked her.”

“Yeah, sí. I told Isa I liked her, too.”

“Will you two—just—” Pierre gesticulates and makes a funny noise that insinuates just go with it. “Okay?” he points out to the latter, rolling his eyes. He turns back to Charles with a ready, dazzling, so-French-it’s-scary grin and continues. “I suggest you let us be your wingmen and help you charm her.”

“Whoa, whoa, wh—us? You’re on your own here,” Max quips with a laugh. “It’s your stupid idea.”

“It’s not stupid, and it’s going to work. She probably likes you already.” His confidence carries the lie with gusto. “We just need—you just need to show her instead of saying the dumbest shit to her face.” Pierre leans back into his chair and shrugs matter-of-factly. “Max and I will be regular wingmen, but we have a secret weapon.”

“Don’t—” Carlos starts with a sigh.

“Yes. Lando, Lily, and Lissie are all close to her, eh? Well, perfect—Carlos will get information from Lando about things she likes, you gift her those things or talk to her about them, bam she’s in love. It’s literally a perfect plan.”

Maybe it’s worth it. Maybe—

“No.” Charles shakes his head firmly, setting the record straight. “This will not work. Who’s to say she even needs a boyfriend?”

—

Despite what his best and closest friends—on and off the paddock—might have you believe, Charles hasn’t always been so hopeless when it came to trying to catch your heart. His closest call came in Cancun, after a long weekend of racing and a flight to the area, early into the night where he thought he was the only one who decided to opt out of partying.

Your skin’s peeling. You turned from where you sat on a barstool observing the shore, startled, immediately relaxing when you found him standing there eyeing you. Your hair was still damp, crunchy with saltwater, and your skin had tanned considerably, a sunburn sitting on the bridge of your nose. You stuck your tongue out.

I spent the whole day swimming. He observed your bikini, yellow and green contrasting the colour of your skin. He blinked slowly, ordering himself a drink to hopefully pass the thoughts away. His eyes couldn’t stop, though, wandering, the translucent material of the scarf you’d tied loosely around your hips, the tinge of heat on your shoulders and nose. I’m burnt everywhere.

There are remedies for that. He smiled around his glass.

I’m aware, you said lightly, crossing your legs and sliding your finger along the salt rim of yours. But just in case I forgot, maybe you could refresh my memory.

Your voice was so sweet, so low, so tempting. Already he knew he was wrapped around your finger, the same finger picking up grains of salt to press on your tongue peeking between your smiling lips. You brought your glass to your lips. It had been some time since the dinner in London so he pressed, his voice deep and a little rough, Liam can do that for you, I’m sure.

Pity, you said meekly as you set your glass down and looked back at him. He’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Out of eyeline, the bartender’s eyes widened at the exchange he was overhearing. 

Is it a pity? He asked, leaning backwards and cocking his head to the side. It’s easy, an easy glide of conversation, flirt, something he’s wanted for a while now. To have you playing into him, and have himself playing into you, just like this. It was naturally easy in a foreign city where nobody knew who either of you were, where you were just two strangers flirting at a beachside bar.

Two strangers laughing while they dug their toes into the sand. Two strangers basking in the water, tinted orange by the sun dipping below the horizon, scarf untied in favor of one last swim before night fell. There was nothing keeping either of you from doing whatever you wanted. Nothing keeping Charles from finally acting on the attraction that honest to God crushed him.

You ended up leaning on the door of your hotel room, keycard fiddled in-between your sandy fingers. You combed a hand through your hair and offered a shy smile. So. 

So, he replied, leaning closer. So.

Sooo. You were laughing and your breath smelled like a mint leaf and vodka. You looked up at him, blinking slowly. I have a rule.

What rule is that?

I don’t date coworkers. He wanted to dip down, place a hand on the dip of your waist, and kiss you.

Pity, he said gruffly instead, a smile forming on his face.

Is it a pity? You chewed on your lip and looked at his barely parted ones, pink and pretty. When I’m about to break it? He was about to help you do just that—eyes fluttered shut already—when a crash resounded from down the hall and you both turned to find the culprit. You broke apart and with your separation, whatever atmosphere of tension you’d built up popped, too, leaving you awkwardly standing beside each other.

Oh m… Lissie? You asked, leaning closer as you recognized your friend more and more. You narrowed your eyes, watching the girl crawl her way through the carpeted floor. Oh, Jesus—let’s—get you—

You both hauled her up and wrapped either arm around your shoulders, unlocking her hotel room with great effort and tossing her onto the bed. You stood back and sighed at her half-blacked out state, slightly amused but ultimately relieved she ended her night unscathed.

She pried one eye open and sleepily, she groaned out, what were… you two… doing together outside your room?

Nothing, you said quickly, face warm and eyes wide.

Because you—Lissie raised a lazy finger in your direction—don’t date coworkers. 

I wasn’t—it wasn’t—goodnight, you spluttered, eyes refusing to meet Charles’ even as you both exited the room, paying him quiet thanks as he pulled the door back closed.

Sorry, you said, pretty as ever. The light shone on the red splotch on your nose. Goodnight.

And so he went to his room that night, bummed out and still high off your scent.

—

“You’re staring again.”

“I’m not,” he lies through his teeth, averting his eyes away from your figure by the shore. Sue him if he was staring (which he wasn’t… but most definitely was) but he finds you much too pretty. After the disaster that was the Mexican GP, he figures he could use some sort of stress reliever. Apparently he was not alone in thinking this, considering half the paddock hauled ass to Cancun and prompty partied.

Across Charles, Joris and Pierre share a knowing look that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“I said I’m not!”

“So you are not staring at her blue swimsuit then?” Joris tests, mouth twisted into a devious smirk. “It’s black,” Charles says matter-of-factly before catching sight of his friends’ smug expressions and realizing he’s implicated himself. He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, petulantly almost. “And I wasn’t. Can you fucking—fuck off?”

“Just ask her out already,” Pierre groans, nodding when Joris chimes in with agreement of his own. “I seriously can-not handle another bar of this shit. It’s been years.”

“I don’t know how to,” he laments. “It’s going to be awkward if I do it all formal, and she’s going—she’ll laugh at me, and it’s…” He blows a raspberry. “Non. Pointless.”

“Just kiss her at the party,” reasons Joris with an easy attitude, shrugging. 

“Joris! Charles didn’t know about that,” Pierre says, trying to lower his volume, but it’s pointless since they’re barely a metre apart. “Fucking tattletale.”

“Party?!” Charles repeats, eyes wide. “Why don’t I know about a party?!”

“It’s a Halloween party,” Joris says, a wacky grin on his face. “And you said it yourself, didn’t ‘cha? You told us not to tell you if any functions were happening because you’re too tired to go to any. Too… too wrapped up racing.” He laughs. “Or something of the sort.”

“Well the season’s ending,” he huffs, wringing firm fingers over his face, his shut eyes, “and I still fucking haven’t… so I think I’m afforded a party.”

“Alright, then come to the party! Dress code, Halloween. Sexy Halloween.” Pierre wiggles his eyebrows. “You know, speaking of our plan, Carlos overheard Lissie and Lily talking about what your girl’s costume is going to be.” He leans in closer and laces his fingers together. “She’s going as a… Christina.”

“Christina?” The other two echo, confused. 

“Christina. I did some digging, and I think it’s this.” Pierre scrolls and dicks around on his phone for a minute before turning it back around to Joris and Charles, who peek with great interest. They seem to be looking at an outdated movie poster of—

“Cas-per the friendly ghost,” Charles reads aloud, trying to get his accent to dissipate. “Huh. What the fuck is that?”

“It’s a movie, idiot.” Pierre shuts his phone off. “Starring who? Christina Ricci.”

“Vraiment? You think his crush is going to show up wearing… a white gown?” Joris asks, his mind stuck on the outfit he’d seen just seconds ago. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“Well Carlos and I agreed, so. Two to two. And Carlos says she and her friends always wear silly costumes like these. So if she shows up as Christina, what better way to start conversation than to dress up as Casper?”

Charles’ eyes widen with comical horror. “No. No, no, no. Did the ghost and the kid fuck?”

“No!” The two men across him yell in unison.

“Right!” He gesticulates. “So it’s not a couples’ costume!”

“But it’s still—” Pierre pauses. “It still matches. Trust me on this one, mate.” He smiles. “We even brought the supplies.”

—

The party is a hit as soon as Charles and his group enter. The former finds refuge at the table, unwilling to socialize. Pierre roams for a bit and ends up finding you almost immediately—you’re wearing low-waisted pants, a strappy top, and you sport alternating streaks of blond and black in your hair.

“Hey!” He calls, jogging up to you. “I heard you were coming as a Christina. Guess who I am?”

You rake a hand through the streaks in your hair and smile. “Not just any Christina. The artist. Xtina? You know?” You twirl a bit, the dark material of your strappy pants swishing as you go, as if the movement will help Pierre deduce the costume’s identity. “Whatever. You’ll get it. Lando is—we’re matching tonight, but I g—it wouldn’t make any more sense if you don’t understand it.” You sigh a bit and gesture vaguely to the crowd behind you, referring to the Eminem-dressed Lando, who you guess is currently caught in the thick of.

“Xtina?” Iks-tina, he repeats, clearly confused. “I remember hearing… somebody saying you were going as a… a Christina.”

“Chris-tina, Xtina, yeah. Christina Aguilera.” You smile, fingers pinching at the material of your belt. “Anyway—where is everyone? I’ve only seen Daniel’s costume and then yours.” The recent memory of Danny’s neon orange traffic cone costume bumping into everybody flashes in your mind.

“Save yourself,” he huffs, smoothing calloused hands over the denim of his jeans. “Zhou and Esteban came as Bella and Jacob, Max as a Tifosi. Anyway”—he points to his ensemble—“guess yet?”

Your mental images of each cited costume are cut short. “Aha! You’re, um. Yes! You’re Ken from the Barbie movie,” you crack finally, remembering the revealing denim vest and jeans combo from the film you’d watched four times over in theaters a few months ago. “Wow, even your briefs say Ken. Very accurate. Minus the non-bleached hair.”

He tuts and shrugs. “I’m no Alex. What’d he come as?”

“He and Lily matched—Sonny and Cher.”

“Let me guess,” Pierre starts, and already you’re nodding because you can tell he’s going to predict exactly how the night has turned out, “Alex is Cher?”

“Wig and sequined dress and all.” You nod, laughing and squinting; Alex’s tall figure, head clad in a long, fringey, black wig, stands out above the rest. “Oh, I did see Carlos at the bar. Ricky Martin?”

Pierre really laughs at that, a loud, distinctly French guffaw involuntarily forced past his lip glossed mouth. “What the fuck, mate! Ricky Martin?! He’s El Profesor from La Casa de Papel. You know, Money Heist? Bella ciao? Oh, my God, he’s going to fucking freak if he hears—heard you said that.”

“He seriously gave off Ricky Martin vibes,” you defend in-between laughs of your own. “So that’s everyone? Oh—oh. Charles! What did… I never saw him! He kept telling me how excited he was for his costume, too…” Just a few hours ago, at that—a boisterous voice honing into the your voicemail inbox, boasting about a costume while you prepped for the party with Lissie and Lily. Your eyes peruse the room, but the lighting is too dark and vague for you to make out anything you haven’t already seen.

“Oh. Charles?” Pierre’s voice lilts higher. “Um. Yeaaah. Um.”

You, however, are sufficiently distracted by your own search for him, and you fail to notice Pierre’s clear scrambling attempt to stall you. He takes a long swig of beer and clears his throat. “He’s just, well, around. I should actually—excuse me, I need to actually go look for him. I owe him a drink.”

“Oh? Oh, okay. Well—be careful?”

You’re a bit surprised by his sudden, jolted departure, but bid him a rushed goodbye anyway. He waves back vaguely, his eyebrows furrowed into an expression of worry as he shoves his way back into the crowd and toward the area littered with tables. It’s only then that Lissie surfaces from the crowd, scratching absently at her nose as she crashes into you with a floaty giggle.

“Lis, you’re all sticky.” You place two palms flat against her shoulders and push her off. “Are you high?” 

“Yes but not drunk.” She giggles again, eyes fluttering.

“Oh—that’s not. Whatever, I guess.” You exhale and cross your arms over your chest. “Who’ve you been with?” She listens, plays with the braid in her hair, matching her getup as Lara Croft. 

“Um, the deejay. I gave him my number, but he’s actually pretty fucking weird. Come on, I want to pee.” As always, her speech quickens to something inhuman, an effect elicited by alcohol; giving you essentially zero time to react, she loops a hand around yours and drags you with ferocity to the nearest restroom. She moves so aggressively through the thickly-packed crowd you barely have time to react or say hi to people you’re acquainted with en route.

You whiz by the door, and in the rush, you notice Pierre entering the one adjacent with a worried expression etched onto his face. Just minutes ago you’d been conversing—you wonder why he’s suddenly become privy to worries.

“So the deejay,” says Lissie, effectively distracting you for the time being. You hum to signify you’re listening, fixing bits of your outfit in the mirror as she kicks different stalls open to judge their cleanliness. “One, he was dressed up as James Bond. Which is just about the most fucking pretentious thing ever. Two, all he played was Chainsmokers. You’re telling me this pub—club—whatever—in Mexico could only afford to commission this guy? Three, he was”—she kicks the last door open and a gasp escapes her and morphs into a semi-shriek—“a ghost?!”

“Ghosted you? Already?” Your eyes, focused previously on re-lining your lips, flits to Lissie’s in the reflection. She’s distracted, staring at the contents of a stall with comically wide eyes. “What’s up? S’that a fucking glory hole or something?”

“No!” She yells when you approach, immediately lunging forward to pull it shut. “No. It’s—I saw a roach. Serves us for going to a fucking… pub. Don’t go in there, it’s…” She exhales a long breath. “It was a mama roach and… with eggs.”

“What are you talking about?” This isn’t even a pub, it’s a nightclub—one with a door fee that definitely did not warrant rogue cockroaches in the water closet. “Lis, you’re drunk-hallucinating.” You’re not even sure if that’s a thing, but you shove past her and push the stall door open again, ready to come face-to-face with, maybe, a sleeping Tinkerbell or a puking black cat. Worst case scenario, shit on the floor; worst-er case scenario, Lissie is right and you’ve stepped into a den of roaches.

Weirdest case scenario, though, if that’s an actual thing: Charles Leclerc seated on the closed toilet seat, face painted white, wearing an all-white ensemble of a large white shirt, shorts, high socks, and sneakers. He’s got two hands on either side of the wall, as if he’d been preparing to escape; how or to where, you’re clueless. Why he’s here, you’re even more stumped.

His entire face is a stark white, with black smudges of face paint on his forehead (eyebrows, you’re guessing); his hair’s been curled by the humid air at this club, and he looks like himself in all the ways he totally does not, eyes big and caught when yours click onto them. 

Despite confusion, you chalk it up, as one would rationally do at a party, to intoxication. You spend a few bated breaths staring at him staring at you, his face of pure shock and embarrassment enough to sober up a drunk for a few days. “Hi.” You can hear yourself say it, but you’re so caught off-guard and full of confusion it feels alien.

“Hey,” he says, wiping four fingers over his stubborn face paint with a smile. The smile and the paint barely fade. “I’m a ghost.”

“I see. Classic.” You pause. “I’m Chr… nevermind. Um—are you okay?”

“A bit, uh—a tad bit drunk. I seem to be in the ladies’ room.”

“Yeah, you seem to be,” you recite back to him, amusement quickly overtaking confusion. “I think Pierre was looking for you. Let me go get him. Lis, make sure he doesn’t…” You gesture a puking movement, and the pair watch and listen to your shoes click against the tile, before the door swings open and then shut again.

“Coast is clear.” Lissie’s voice has been lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “I reckon everyone you know is already looking for you?”

“This is a disaster.” He rubs frantically at the face paint, but it’s horribly futile. “You know, I didn’t even realize I was in the ladies’ room until you two came in. She cannot see me like this.”

“She already fucking has, mate.” Lissie sounds exasperated. “Whose idea was this? If you say Pierre I swe—”

“—Pierre—”

“—ar to Jesus fucking Christ, Charles—I can’t keep saving you from Pierre’s antics.” She grumbles out a sigh. “What are you supposed to be, even? Have you—did you see how hot she looks? This is like… you look like a… I can’t—” She lets herself taper off, so disbelievingly shocked at his odd costume.

“I’m Casper the Ghost!” Lissie mentally forms a crude picture of the kid ghost, which looks absolutely nothing like what’s in front of her. “Casper was opposite Christina Ricci. Pierre told me so.”

“That’s the dumbest analogy ever, holy Christ. You look like a poster child for some…” She regards him for a moment. “Anemia advert.”

“Take that back.”

“You don’t really have the upper hand here, Charles,” says Lissie with a grimace. “I’m texting Pierre. Are you—did you even get drunk?”

“No,” he woes. “I am totally sober. I had to lie. Pierre went to the table and told me that my—that the costume we planned—it was wrong, and I just—I ran to the bathroom.” Lissie can’t help but laugh at the story, raising her camera to record the incriminating evidence.

Mid-video, Charles’ white face droops and his painted lips part to ask: “You think she found me cute?”

—

Charles likes finding things about you. He supposes the first time he realized just how much he liked hearing you talk about yourself—which you rarely did—happened in São Paulo. He’d been stressing over a spiel to recite in front of a camera, rewriting over words for hours to make everything sound more natural.

Each margin had been hastily written on with pencil, run-on sentences with semicolons in the place of periods. The team scriptwriter didn’t do much to make his lines sound more natural and less like they’d just been spat out of an online translator. You peeked into the media pen and coughed. You don’t belong here, do you?

Tch, he clicked his tongue, turning to offer a smile. I’m working on a script for Sunday. Portugese stuff.

I can help, you responded, walking slowly over toward him. You smiled quietly, approaching slowly like you were waiting for him to greenlight your offer. He did so by pulling a chair out for you, and once you sat you traced a nail over each line, murmuring them under your breath.

You speak Portugese?

You looked up and gave a half-shrug, laughing like you were amused with yourself. Kind of. It’s not very good, but it’s enough. You resumed your editing and he felt content to stare, admire, watch every movement of your lips align with the syllables of the words. You asked for a pencil and began writing something much cleaner. He couldn’t help but let himself be in awe of your intelligence.

You read over the last few lines and turned to face him. Let me guess, you said. You want to make a pun on Ferrari before you say bye.

Ah, he laughs. Yeah.

See, I know you so well, you half-joked, scrawling idle edits on the margins of his script.

He was already looking at you when you turned back to him, seeking his response, agreement, anything. When your eyes met, something caught at your chest—it tugged, tugged, then tugged again, a dull feeling burrowed deep in you. Words failed to wrench themselves free, but once they did, all you could manage was a faint—What?

Nothing. He smiled and shook his head, like he was waiting for you to figure it out. You know… sometimes, I wish I met you sooner. He does. He wishes he knew you back then, when you first learned Portugese. Or when you were in high school, so you could see just how exponentially awkward he was in his own teenage years. He thinks sometimes that he’s lost too much time, met and liked you too late.

Hm, you breathed out, because you didn't know what else to. I know why—so you could always have me. As a proofreader. Right?

Hah. The tilt of his laugh was high and mocking, and he stuck his tongue out, as if to punctuate that. He looked away then, like he wasn’t ready to say certain things to your face just yet. Quietly he added, Always have you… something like that.

—

If you ask Charles what he’s doing hiding in a laundry basket of a luxury hotel in São Paulo, he wouldn’t be able to answer you, either. It’s been some time since the disaster that was Caspergate Cancun 2023, and if he’s perfectly honest, he doesn’t feel like facing you again for the rest of his life. Pierre, of course, has other plans. 

All he knows is last night, Pierre suggested he leave a huge vase of roses for you to arrive to in the living room of your hotel; as he planted it in said room, the door’s lock turned, and he sought a hiding place in the adjacent bedroom. Judging by the prevalent scent of Dior Sauvage, this is Lando Norris’ room.

Did u get to escape??? Pierre’s text irritates him. At the same time, the light flips on; Charles curls in on himself, remaining perfectly still. Lando’s voice trills through the room. “I didn’t leave those roses for either of you,” he’s saying to you and Lissie.

Charles hears you hum. “They’re so beautiful.” His heart swells. “I gotta run for a sec, pick up something from Will’s room.” A few seconds pass and the door opens and shuts, which means Charles is currently alone with Lando and Lissie. Which means he needs to plot his escape as soon as he can. Otherwise he’ll be caught in the crossfire and much too embarrassed to—

A foot meets his concealed body and he lets out an oof! as he’s sent flying out of the hamper, along with strewn-around clothes. He keeps his eyes screwed shut, scared shitless and in a fetal position; he only unfurls when a socked foot kicks at his ass. Above him are Lando and Lissie, both extremely confused. 

“How did you know I was…?!” He asks, aghast.

“My fucking laundry was breathing, mate, s’not that hard to leave alone,” Lando retorts sharply. “What are you doing?!”

“I left roses for her,” he explains fruitlessly, gesturing to the vase outside. “But you came in, and this was the closest hiding place. I was told this would be a great gesture.”

“Right. Where did you even get that advice?” Lando tries to suppress the critical tone in his voice, but judging by Charles’ embarrassed grimace, he’s failed. Beside him, Lissie makes a hm? noise, goading Charles to answer quicker.

“I got it from.” Charles pauses. “A friend,” he ekes out vaguely.

“No shit. Who?”

“Um—” Charles’ eyes are shut. “Pierre.”

In unison, Lissie and Lando both release incredulous gasps, throwing their hands up in the air. Lissie points at the mess of clothes in the corner of the room to emphasize her point and asks loudly, with comical cynicism: “This seemed like proper romantic advice to you?”

“Scratch that. Pierre’s words seemed like proper romantic advice to you? His girlfriend is—!” Lando places a flat palm a few inches off the floor and shakes it a few times to insinuate Kika’s age, his disbelieving expression growing funnier by the second. “Mate!” His voice cracks mid-syllable, though even this mishap seems to be the least crazy thing about tonight.

Charles, burning with humiliation, releases a shaky sigh. “I know! I know!”

“You don’t know!” They shout simultaneously in response, disappointed if anything. Just then the door opens again and your two best friends hurry to throw assorted pieces of laundry on the lying Charles, exiting to make sure you don’t suspect anything. 

“Hey,” you say slowly, because they’re both posed the exact same. “Am I… missing something?”

“A shower, girl,” Lando says, and you flip him off before retreating into your room.

Belatedly you ask, “Did you find out who sent those flowers?”

“Some loser, probably,” he calls right back. Charles emerges to poke him accusatorily, but Lando just shrugs. Charles definitely does not have the upper hand here, anyway. 

“Just get out,” Lissie says, completely done with Charles’ antics. “And stop. Listening. To Pierre.” 

He rinses the odor of laundry off him once he’s at his room, but thinks, despite himself, that you called the flowers beautiful.

—

Are you—

—no. I’m not. You wiped a hand over your face and caught mascara along with it. I’m fine, it’s fine.

What he said, it wasn’t…

I said, you turned to face him, eyes rimmed and mouth trembling. You didn’t finish your sentence, just tore the microphone off your lapel and buried your face in your hands. There was always going to be a first time. Your first time insulted on a live feed, after the Abu Dhabi weekend, was not any less shocking. You felt small. You felt humiliated.

You didn’t want to show Charles any of it. You moved around the green room, picking up shit to throw into your bag. Thank God the season was fucking over, you kept thinking. I feel so, you said, still failing to finish anything you started to say. You’d been called an annoying bitch by a fan of one of the drivers—to your face, as you exited the paddock.

He moved nearer. Charles, you said, a half-sob, and then you were allowing him to crash, allowing him to hug you. Your arms were weak when they wrapped back around him, linking softly in the small of his back. You sobbed hard into his chest until his grey tee was dark with tears. I want out, I just want out.

You’ll lord your career over that prick when you’ve made a million dollars doing this, he said. You do it too well to want out. You’re too smart. You’re too good. You cried harder, your face hurt and every word felt wrestled unintentionally, like it took too much work to say much at all. I’m sorry, you said. You should go. 

No, he said. He held you closer. Not until you feel better.

—

He cries after Abu Dhabi. Bad season, everyone’s said. You snap a few smiling pictures with Max, who wins, and Lily and Lissie and the lot of them, the people who made the year so great. You notice an absence in all the pictures and you find it in a room in the Ferrari motorhome.

You’ve found you both find solace in words. In reassurance. But you’ve also found that your connection enables you both to reassure without having to say anything at all. You sit beside him, lean your head on his shaky shoulder, and wait.

“I was waiting for you to come,” he admits brokenly. “I was just not feeling good.”

“I know,” you respond. “It was a bad race. Shit strat.”

He’s quiet. His breaths are ragged and wet and shaky. “Will you stay? Until I feel better?”

You don’t move. “I’ll stay for longer.”

—

In the kitchen Charles unscrews himself a beer. The sky outside is pink and the sun hides behind faraway mountains, gradually darkening the entire atmosphere, save for the few woolly clouds. He’s by the patio door so he can spot people in the wide yard: Pierre, exchanging a Frisbee with Lando. Max, Alex, and Lissie engaged in an intense match of Uno.

They’re all gathered here in Spain at Carlos’ behest to celebrate the dawn of winter, and the end of the season, Max’s third championship.

He’s yet to spot you—he’d been told earlier you’d be late—but it doesn’t matter. He’s been feeling uncharacteristically himself all day anyway. He wrote that on his notebook this morning, on the flight here, verbatim. Looked up the word to spell it right and everything. He remembers you saying it, that time in London where you and Lando took him around and annihilated Borough Market before lounging on the grassy knoll of a nearby park. I feel so uncharacteristically happy, you’d joked. The syllables were too stunted and too fast for Charles to nail it. But he feels it now. Uncharacteristic.

He tells everyone he’s fine, though, and does a good job of it. Three beers in and he’s beginning to trick himself into thinking he actually is doing fine. Nobody suspects he’s been feeling empty from such a bad finish to the season—the season that was already bad in itself. He hasn’t been feeling his usual drive, his usual appetite. He doesn’t know when it will return.

“Here you are.” Carlos has this goofy smile on his face when he bounds into the kitchen, depositing empty dishes at the sink. “Listen, I have to tell you something.”

Charles and Carlos have always shared an easy dynamic—they’ve both always wanted the same thing. Racing has always been at the forefront of their minds. It makes conversation passionate, easy, fun; it was what helped build their now-natural rapport in the first place. “Yeah?” He prods, leaning against the counter and tipping fizz into his mouth.

“I invited everyone here to announce… something important.” Carlos crosses his arms. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

“Me?” Charles knits his eyebrows and smiles. “Wow.” He gulps, cocks his head. “What is it, then? Are you switching teams?”

Carlos’ goofy smile grows. “Isa and I are engaged. I’m retiring next year.”

“You—you’re—” Charles laughs and shuts his eyes all at once. “Oh, my God, mate! Congratulations!” The overload of information isn’t lost on him, but he channels it all into a hug. “Are you really retiring, though? I mean. Wow, this is amazing news—but—”

“I was sure as soon as I asked,” Carlos says squarely, smiling as if he’s conjured an image of Isa’s smiling face (which is likely the case). “As soon as she said yes. As soon as I bought the ring!” He laughs aloud, so overwhelmed with happiness of recalling everything. “I’m so glad you were the first person I told.”

“Besides Lando,” Charles says, because he knows it’s true.

“Besides Lando.” Carlos smiles. “I’m… dios, I’m happy. I always knew I’d have something to look forward to after racing.” They hug again, and then he clambers past Charles and into the patio, where he resumes the façade of being unengaged and still a driver. Left behind, Charles thinks over it himself. What does he have to look forward to after racing? All his life, racing is all that ever existed to him. 

The announcement comes eventually—when it’s dark out, intermittent stars white and twinkly against the black above. Charles has once again turned into a blushy mess because you arrived a few hours prior, wearing a lovely dress and with your hair down in messy waves and you said hi to him earlier without him approaching first. They present a stupid, but very Carlos-and-Isa ring-shaped cake to announce it, and somebody queues up music and everyone’s cheering. Of course everyone’s cheering—it’d be impossible for this announcement to not come with bouts of yelling and cheering and goodbyes to Carlos, who accepts them with glee and—dare he say—excitement.

Charles remembers their first year as teammates, the jokes they’d made about needing to beat the other out. For both of them, he recalls, it’s only ever been the drive to race. He didn’t think Carlos would even entertain the idea of retiring yet. He wonders when he will. The thought of it alone is enough to send a well of anxiety run deep into him—which happens after he congratulates the couple, so he excuses himself to the empty outdoors area to get fresh air back into him.

He didn’t mean it, but he finds you already there. “Hi,” you say when he slides the door shut. “You okay?”

“Just… yeah, I’m fine.” You smell faintly like smoke. “It’s crazy, huh. Everyone’s… moving on.”

“So Carlos told everyone, then,” you say, pursing your lips and waiting for his response. He closes his eyes and lets a soft exhale escape him, warm air out and fresh air in, a welcome change from the heady atmosphere in the party. “I knew. I bought that God awful cake. I kept saying get a normal one but they both wanted it to be shaped like a ring.” You punctuate your sentence with a crisp laugh, a stunted exhale of air to break the tension.

You have a natural sway over words, graceful and beautiful and commanding, something he only wishes he could be. For so long he’d been told the feedback loop of one and the same thing: you’re good. You’re the best. You’re going to be the next big thing. And this season had just… aggravated every single insecurity he’s picked up in his years of racing. He wishes sometimes he’d been told something else: you suck. You’re normal. You’re irrelevant. Then at least he wouldn’t exist in some odd panopticon of feeling on top of the world and yet looking at it from the bottom of a pitch black abyss.

“Yeah,” he says instead, wringing his hands. He mimics the wrist movements he’s made to do during gym hours. “It’s wild how—I mean, not really wild, but. I just can’t… even picture my life after racing.”

“You’re young, that’s warranted,” you laugh. “You’re also… I mean, even if you drop out of racing tonight, it’s not like you’re going to become dirt poor or anything. You could become a bloody orthodontist and people will still love you.”

“Will they?”

He didn’t mean to say it aloud but out it comes, garbled and rushed and he’s a bit embarrassed for sounding like a child in front of somebody he finds so beautiful. The silence is suspended and dry, and for a minute all he hears and feels is the slow rise and fall of his chest. To somehow mend the vulnerability, he tries again. “It’s not—I just think I’ll be lonely if I decide to stop racing.”

The fact that Carlos can say with so much ease that he’s willing to drop his career to ensure his pending marriage lasts is almost terrifying, because Charles knows he wants that. He knows—he’s always known—that he wants that intimacy, that realness, but for it to come at the cost of something he’s known for so long is so scary it’s almost a dealbreaker.

“Lonely?” You echo, voice tinged with concern. “Charles—”

“Lonely.”

He says it with an edge to his voice, so final, so steadfast. Loneliness is what he’s always feared and he knows, with a deep drawling punch to his gut, that loneliness is what will come if he decides to stop racing. Even if he’s tired. Even if he’s so pent up with frustration and loss and anger. Racing is all he’s ever known, it’s all he is—when he’s not tied to it, who is he? “Like no one… like I’m just standing in front of what I’m supposed to be, and when people see me, that’s all they see—what’s behind me. Right through me.”

“Well, you’re off racing right now,” you respond, trodding carefully. “So, well. Do you feel that way?”

He knows what you mean: it’s winter break, so he’s not driving or doing some form of it every single day. And he knows in turn what to answer: no, not really, he doesn’t really feel detached from it because there’s a low anticipation in his belly that tells him he’ll be doing it all again soon. But he chooses to interpret it differently; differently, but not falsely.

“I th… I don’t feel lonely,” he says, “when I talk to you. You see me.” 

Your stomach drops and your heart begins to pulse a mile a minute, knuckles tightening where they’ve gripped onto the wooden post of the patio. You can feel the air in your lungs pass through every divot of your body as it escapes and arrives in long, shaky breaths. He’s looking at you, his eyebrows knitted like he wants—needs an answer, if you’d be kind enough to please give him one. 

“I…” You bite your lip, every thought in your head at odds with the other.

Time feels like rubber, like it’s been stretched and manipulated and Carlos is ducking out to announce that it’s time to blow out candles on the stupid ring-shaped cake and you’ve taken too long to respond and your body feels too heavy but your heart feels too light and your eyes are blinking, open and shut and open again, and you feel like the wind could honestly blow you away now because Charles has given you a neutral nod and left you alone again, to contemplate the weight of what he’s finally, finally admitted, tonight here under the sky of Spain.

You move a hand over your hair, watch him walk away. The words lodge themselves in your throat, but they’re there.

—

One minute after  you realized you liked Charles, you swallowed the feelings until they were barely decipherable.

In happened in Dublin, at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day, when you’d emerged fresh out of a breakup with the most arseholic Irishman you’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. And funnily enough, it happened without Charles’ presence. You’d spent the day at Liam’s, hours of fighting over so many things—the growth of your career and the decimation of his, where your relationship had soured, why you never came to visit him, Charles, the sodding bloke you like so much—until finally, you took your things and left.

Wise, because you might’ve honestly gone insane if you stayed a minute longer, attuning your ears to the deafening feedback loop of his voice. Also decidedly unwise, because you had a piece of luggage and barely any battery, in a full city of people you didn’t know at all.

There was no chance Liam would let you return, and no chance you wanted to, for that matter—the fact still stood, though, that you needed to kill the night before your flight to France left at 6AM. You entered the first pub you heard, deposited your bag at the coat check for an extra couple of euros, and accepted the first pint thrust into your hand and first leprechaun hat plopped atop your head.

In between watching people compare how they poured Guinness pints, Sinead O’Connor songs, and exchanging headdresses with a random stranger, you found yourself impressingly drunk. The Irish did it too well.

A university student stumbled past your stool, tears in her eyes; she stopped to steal a shot of whiskey lying unattended on the bar. You looped a hand around her wrist and stared at her menacingly. Manners?!

Fuck manners, she said wetly, wrenching every word out with great effort. Nobody paid either of you any attention. I just caught my best friend and boyfriend kissing. Her accent was unmistakably Irish and was stronger with the tears.

Oh, you said, loosening your threatening grip. Sorry.

Don’t be. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid, she said, aghast, before finally stalking outside the pub. Half an hour later, you wound up at a table of thirty-somethings, all belting along to a folky sounding song.

Drunkenly you slurred out, I thought it was a stereotype.

What was, love? One of them paused her singing, dipping down to listen to you properly. Your cheek was smushed against the varnished wood, moving with every syllable you eked out.

The songs. You sound like… you belong in the 19th century.

She laughed at that, surfacing and yelling something to the band onstage you couldn’t quite decipher. The song reached its peak, loud and getting the whole crowd singing along, before fading into a familiar opening. S’this better? She asked, her voice slightly raised above the guitar.

You looked up. I liked the other one too, to be fair. M’not a fucking anti-Irish.

Nobody said that, love. Come sing. She hauled you upward, exaggerating her arm swinging in the air so you’d follow suit, which you did. You hummed the opening, eyes fluttering open and closed. You imagined opening them again and finding Charles across the room, already looking, with the same charming, boyish smile on his face that came to you as comfort.

You thought back to the dinner in London, the feeling of his shirt against your shoulder, the way he’d gotten you so easy and laughing and babbly, something you never got with Liam. You squeezed your eyes shut and exhaled raggedly. Fuck.

Linger’ll do that to you, your companion mused. Around you, the entire pub sang along to the song that served as the backdrop to your all-encompassing romantic epiphany. Missing a lover, huh?

No, just… You opened your eyes, watched the band sing out the rest of the prechorus before they slid into the next verse. A new kind of air had crept over the pub, one that exemplified just how much this song could mean to anyone, no matter who. You shut them again and saw Charles. The green of his eyes, mossy on some days and bright on others. The moles on his face. The grooves of his hand, the way it wrapped around things like pens, mics, bottles, your fingers. His voice, how he curved around words. He always knew exactly what you meant even if it took you ages to get to the point, even if you felt like you didn’t know what you meant exactly. 

You opened your eyes. Suddenly fights with Liam didn’t matter. Whatever little sympathy you had left evaporated as you listened to the lyrics and realized, with a damning force, that you were thinking of Charles. And this was not weak, this was not vague, this was a strong thing that took you off your feet like a gust of wind, hurtling you out of the pub. You thought of every time your eyes met his, both of you already laughing at something else present. Every time he saw you at the end of a busy work day and asked if you were doing alright.

Just this guy, I suppose. His name’s… yeah. We’ve been friends for ages. He’s really very talented. Very kind. Your voice was drowned out by the music but you didn’t intend for anything to be heard, anyway. And he’s the smartest person I’ve ever met. He always knows what to say. He’s not in Dublin tonight, not even in Ireland, for God’s sake. 

He’s your boyfriend, then?

You closed them slowly. No. T’wouldn’t be very smart to date him.

Is he an arse?

No either. It’s just too late.

I’m sorry, love.

Don’t be, you mused, eyes still shut as Linger came to a close. I’m sorry I could ever be so stupid.

—

Charles should be in Monaco. You should be in London. But at four-thirty PM, leaning against the counter of a tiny café in Dublin, you cross paths for the first time in weeks, and everything tilts on its axis.

He notices you first, because he hears you thank the barista quietly. It’s not your reporter voice, not the one you put one when you’re interviewing him or his teammate or his fellow athletes. But it’s your real one, and it’s the one he thinks he could hear through a snowstorm.

A tuxedo-clad man exits and suddenly you’re there. You’re wearing a white top, low neck and thin straps covered by a cardigan. You’re sliding coins into the pocket of your jeans and he watches your hand freeze, drags his eyes back up to you, finds you’re already looking.

You look beautiful, he thinks. You put on a lot of makeup for the cameras, and you looked gorgeous, but seeing you like this—caught, almost, in a moment you didn’t expect to see him—you look unbelievably beautiful. He aches with it. 

“You look well,” he says first when he opens the café door for you. “What’s your business in Ireland?”

“Acquainting myself with my new coworker.” You wait for him to follow and squint when the sun hits your eye. “We’ve been here three weeks, fly back to London next Monday. You?”

“It does seem weird for me to be here,” he observes absently. “I needed a change of pace, I think. Gear up for the season.” He shakes his half-full cup of coffee. “Where are you staying?”

“Just up ahead.” A slow silence overcomes you both. “Come over. I have beer. I know you can’t be fucked to have coffee.” He laughs and nods, following you through the road and up into a flat—a BNB, if he’s guessing. There’s a tiny landing and then stairs to a wider living area, where you proceed to unwrap the croissant you’d gotten a few minutes earlier. You chuck it into the fridge and produce two bottles of beer in one go.

“Sit,” you gesture to the spot beside you, and he sits himself there. “We can talk. We should.”

You’ve shrugged your cardigan off, and he observes every detail of your exposed skin, the way your hair layers atop it. Right as he opens his mouth to respond, a blond girl enters, rings of mascara caking her eyes and a wine glass twiddled in-between thumbs. She’s talking her head off and only pauses when she spots Charles.

“Hhhh…iiii.”

“Salut.” 

“You’re Charles?” She notices how close the two of you are seated together.

“Yes,” he says. 

“Charles, this is Robyn—my coworker’s friend. And by extension my friend.” You pat her knee and point to Charles to get them properly introduced. “She leeches off the apartment.” 

“You love me,” she retorts, mockingly—but sweetly. “Anyway, sorry to intrude. I was just on the phone with my situationship.” She rolls her eyes. “Does he think I give two shits about goodnight texts? It feels impossible to be romantically satisfied these days.”

Charles grunts. “I hear that,” he says, just to make Robyn feel less excluded. You get up then, to fuck around at the kitchen sink—he suspects you’re not actually doing chores—but you come back with wet hands and you sit yourself across Charles, on the loveseat, instead of next to him. 

“The thing is, right,” she gulps wine, “there’s such a thing with dating now,” Robyn says, not missing a beat, her Geordie accent curving round the syllables with a distinctive twang. She stares at the opaque red liquid in her glass, like that will supplement her with more words. “Like a deal. A big deal. Everyone’s making this huge thing out of it, and it’s like, can’t we be in our twenties and fuck around occasionally?” She laughs, a high-pitched, tapered noise.

You shift from where you’re seated, buried into the material of the seat. It’s quiet and beginning to touch awkward, so you speak in a rough voice: “I dunno, I kind of… get it.”

“Oh do you, now,” she responds, voice saturated with wine. “No, it’s—I was joking. Of course you would, you’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, is all.”

Suddenly you feel all too seen and inclined to touch a fingertip to your cheek, feather light. You blink so you won’t feel tempted to meet Charles’ eyes, because you feel them on you. “It’s—thank you, I mean. It’s nothing to do with that. I just always feel it’s impossible to find someone who loves you. I feel like I’m not very lovable.”

“You? You’re bloody fucking likable!” Robyn’s laugh is so disbelieving you find yourself semi-convinced. “You’re a bit intimidating, yeah, but you’re lovable as fuck, babe.”

You double down anyway, voice thin. “Right. I don’t think I’m very good at being… affectionate.”

“Hah. Bull. You’re affectionate with… with Charles! I’ve heard you talk about him to Jane.”

She turns to Charles before you have the chance to defend yourself. To him she asks: “Is she affectionate with you?”

But it’s basically rhetorical. Everyone speculates, sees the way you two bend the line between friendship and romance, the care with which you treat Charles, the way you two understand each other in ways impossible for anyone else in your orbit. Fuck if it’s not overtly physical. Robyn’s known you three weeks and has never even met Charles until seven minutes ago and already she’s sensed the energy, the difference, even if she hasn’t seen you do so much as embrace.

“It’s—” You say and say too quickly. You wind up slowing your speech so you don’t sound too defiant and lean backwards, willing yourself to relax. “It’s… different with Charles.”

“Different?” She repeats, miming every dip and rise of your voice. “Why?”

“We’re close.” You refuse to meet his eyes. “Be—because we’re good friends. I feel… things are… just. They’re different. That’s all, really.” Barely satisfied with the answer you eked out, you cross your arms over your torso like it’ll help shield you from the interrogation going on. Briefly you let your eyes fall on Charles; he’s reclined, eyes all over the place, blinking in quick flashes.

“But you admit it, at least?” She smiles. “That you’re affectionate, I mean.”

“Only with…” you taper off, unwanting to dig yourself a deeper hole. “Right. Sure, yeah.”

“Well then,” she says, eyebrows raising as she dows the rest of her glass. She sets it down on the low wooden table with a clink. “I’ll get going. Don’t let me keep you two from shagging or whatever.”

“We don’t f—shag,” you interrupt, voice sharp. “And you’re not keeping us at all. Me, at all.”

Us sounds so exclusive, you realize as it leaves your lips. Us. It tastes like sour cherries on your tongue, bleeds all over. Robyn gives you a look. In response, you insist on seeing her out, leaving Charles at the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands toying with the neck of the beer bottle. He can make out faint words but he doesn’t try translating or deciphering them, just listens to your muffled voice peek through every few words. You sound amused, also accused, also endeared—a bit irritated. You end it with a laugh.

You clamber back in after a few minutes and find him at the top of the stairs.

“Sorry,��� you wave off, rolling your eyes to fend Robyn’s earlier interrogation efforts of. “She’s very strong-willed.” You climb the stairs, your striped linen shorts folding with every movement of your legs. Finally you make it to the top, on the second-to-the-last stair, staring up at him.

“You know,” he says, watching you ascend to the top finally, but you’re still staring upward. “You should know.”

“Should know what?”

“I missed you.”

You inhale and are grateful to find the air is all him. “I missed you, too.”

“In a different way.”

“Me, too,” you echo again, voice quiet. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve missed you all my life.”

He can hear your still, controlled breathing. “Thank you for seeing me. Even when, you know, it’s… hard. You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you say. “It’s never difficult, not…” With you.

He leans down and captures your mouth in his then, like it’s a thirst he’s always needed quenched. You allow it, kiss him back like you’ve needed this your entire life. His lips are chapped, but you don’t mind—Dublin’s cold. He kisses like he’s smiling, like he’s happy, and you think maybe that’s not far off. He moves downward, to your jaw; lower, along the column of your throat, around your collarbones, cornering you against the wall, letting you lean against it.

Charles’ kisses are light and soft, but also heavy, like he’s trying to waste as little time as possible. You sigh, feeling light, feeling ecstatic. He puts two hands on either side of your face, presses your foreheads together, and shuts his eyes. 

You feel the divots of his fingers on your hip, your waist, places he’s never touched before. “I’m sorry I left,” you breathe into him. “Back in Spain. In Madrid. I wanted to think about it. About what you said. About everything, about you.”

“I’m glad I found you here, then.”

You tiptoe to kiss him again, because now that you’ve had it once you’re terrified you won’t have it again. In-between kisses he picks you up, cages you fully against the wall, and you breathe shaky little exhales. It builds up quicker and harder; you feel his cock at your hip and shiver, eyelashes fluttering. “Upstairs,” you say breathlessly.

He likes knowing you want this, because he’ll give you whatever you want. He’d fuck you for hours. Have you shaking, eking out moans of his name. He’d whisper praise up and down your ear. He wants this just as much, if not more.

“I want you, so much,” you exhale when he lies you both down on your bed. “So much.”

He tugs your shorts off, then your panties. He doesn’t usually lack self-restraint, but he thinks he’s never felt this much temptation in his life. He’s so hard. He brings one hand to his thigh and squeezes his dick through his pants, but it doesn’t provide him with any kind of relief. You’re needy already, whimpering, mind dizzy. He slides a finger up your slit and watches you screw your eyes shut.

Slowly he sinks in, watches you accustom to the stretch. “Wanted this,” you breathe out.

He thrusts in further, feels your warm cunt stretch around him, feels your breaths get hotter and quicker against his lips. But he takes it nice and slow, so he can feel every little ridge inside of you as you take all of him. “You like it?”

You nod, too dumbed down to speak. “Good girl. Pretty, pretty girl.”

He’s wanted this for so long, fucking you deep and slow and desperate. He thrusts harder, watches you unravel and your hot breaths pick up in pace. He reaches down, smears wetness around your clit as your thighs begin to shake. Your pretty, flushed face is enough to send him into overdrive, your eyes rolling back as he goads you into orgasm.

You’re still cumming around him when he takes a shaky breath, pulls you tightly back against him, and lets the pleasure take over. He fucks you full, rides his orgasm out while you ride yours out—buries his dick all the way inside, so each spurt fills your contracting pussy up.

He pulls out and collapses beside you, pressing his lips to your shoulder before lying on his back. “I’ll clean you up in a minute.” It’s quiet for a second, just you two breathing.

Then: “I did, I did think about it,” you say, voice reedy. “I thought about you.”

“Yeah?” He watches you blink at the ceiling, lets you clasp your hands onto his.

“About me, too.” You open your eyes and stare into the green.

“D’you want this?”

“Believe me,” you say, threading your fingers into his tightly. Your hair’s fussed from the sex. “I do. But—”

His heart drops.

“I don’t want to… I want you to not…” You sigh. “You know, I like seeing you. I like being that. I like knowing I make you feel good. And I want you to know you… you make me feel amazing. Like you and I… we understand each other.” You pause. “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who understands every inch of me.”

“Ditto,” he says, and you smile.

“I look up to you, you know? I don’t want you to anchor yourself onto me. I want you to realize that on your own. You’re smart. You’re a great driver with a shitty fucking team I hated reporting on last season.” He laughs shakily. “You know I look up to you. You know… you know I love you.”

“I do. I love you.”

“I always have. It wasn’t… it didn’t always make itself clear, but I always have. And I know I always will.” You smile. “We’ll be in different cities, in separate timezones, but if we survived the years of not telling each other how bloody fucking much we liked each other, this is nothing. When we’ve sorted ourselves out, we’ll know the right time to finally call this what it is.”

He’s never thought of himself as a writer, but his notebooks might beg to differ. Many times you’ve told him yourself that he has an affinity for describing things, especially when he lets go of language as a limitation. He wonders what you’d say if you knew the amount of times he’s tried to write about you. Careful letters or typefaces, in an effort to form a coherent picture of you, the way he sees you, the way he loves you. But he’s so scared he tears the pages off before they get too intimate, too personal, crossing the border from having a crush on you to being in love with you.

For once he’s not. He nods. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a segue to a better ending. He moves a hand over your hair and holds you close.

“You could never be unlovable,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead because finally, he can. “I mean it.”

[merakiui]

SPEAKING OF DOGBOYS

Mera :)

You can’t just call him one and not deliver the goods

Give me sad wet dog man as a puppyboy!

I like to imagine he watched TNBC once with you and you were obligated to buy the pathetic little guy a plush of Jack Skeleington. (Which he refuses to sleep without just like you) and now he is obsessed with the holiday

Maybe you even adopted him in October and that adds another layer of why he loves halloween, cause you chose him during the magnificent season!

Sincerely,

Mer eggs anon.

👁 👁 puppyboy Skully........ puppyboy Skully who is so clingy and affectionate and loyal, his tail always wagging when he's around you, but he also has a bit of a humping problem... ;;; oh well!!!! <3 surely he's just getting out all of that extra energy when he ruts against you from behind, panting in your ear as he creams his pants once again. No other reason to it, right?

Omg and getting him a Jack Skellington plushie, which he cherishes so much (not only because it's Jack but because you bought it for him)!!! His first gift from you! WAAA he's so happy!!! >w< he is the most devoted ride or die!!! You were so kind and compassionate to choose him, the awkward, lonely stray kept in the corner cage at the pound. And you fell in love with his fluffy tail and ears, one of which flops over cutely. He has always spent his Halloweens alone, but after you adopted him he's never known loneliness again! And you just understand him so well... you really are his dear human and he's your puppyboy, forever and always!! What can he call this if not a fateful encounter?

Skully can be a bit territorial sometimes. ;;; he just really dislikes the smell of others on you. >:( especially those noisy humans who bring you to parties and you always come home tipsy, tinged in all kinds of new scents. Those friends of yours really are troublesome... or when you were seeing someone and they broke up with you... oh, it hurt his heart to see you crying. He licked your tears away with that wet, warm tongue of his and you'd tried to push him away, but he was persistent until eventually you were laughing. He loves it when you're happy. After all, your happiness is his happiness. :D

To return to his energy, though...... it really is boundless, so much so that sometimes he just has to make sure you're fast asleep (drugging your tea) before he slides his dick between your thighs or tugs your underwear to the side to rub the head of his dick against your hole. It's so romantic to do it in this position, with his arms wrapped around you, or when he flips you onto your back and props himself up above you. He can't help it. You just smell so good and you're so warm and you look so cute when you're sleeping... before he knows it, he's fucking you and practically howling because it feels so good and your body responds so wonderfully to this connection. It must mean you want this as much as he does, right!!! But he'll clean you up and felch all of the cum from out of your hole, so when you wake up in the morning you'll never know!

Skully very rarely loses his temper. He's a gentleman, so very polite and considerate (incredibly affectionate; he's addicted to kissing you). But sometimes he just gets so...frustrated. You never listen to him. Don't you realize your heart is going to break again if you pursue another worthless human mate?! Why can't you just listen to him!!! He's your fated one, isn't he? You're meant to be together with him. No one else! It's a scary sight when Skully loses his temper and raises his voice. ^^;; and he's just so tall and strong,,, maybe the only way to calm him is by agreeing to his whims and further spoiling him. It's for the best, isn't it?

[lunarnightt]

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 ⎯ Carl Grimes

WARNINGS! ⎯ there are none! Just pure fluff! SUMMARY ⎯ Your father, Daryl Dixon, always treated your mother like a queen before she died; now you want someone to do the same, and who better than your best friend, Carl Grimes. A/N ⎯ This is based on the song 'Like My Father' by Jax. I also want to thank everyone who LOVED my Carl Grimes x Gothic reader so much! I love you all!

For as long as you could remember; your father treated your mother like a goddess, like a queen.

Whatever she wanted, she got. whatever she asked for, she got. There were never any ifs or buts about it. Your dad worshipped the ground she walked and treasured her like any man should do a woman.

As you got older, you watched your father do everything he could for your mother. He would constantly have dinner dates with her, and take her on romantic walks in the middle of the night when they thought you were asleep. This never changed when your mom got cancer and started doing chemo.

Your father shaved his own head with her so she wouldn't be alone, held her hand during every treatment, and watched her throw up blood until her last dying breath.

Your mother died before the world went to shit so there you were, sitting at the query watching other kids play with their moms and dads, silently resenting them for having both. Your mother was dead and your dad was cold and couldn't care what you did anymore because he was still grieving the loss of his wife.

That was when that changed; a little boy walked up to you and practically forced you to play with him. You would learn that his name was Carl and he too lost his dad but of course, we all know how that went.

Eventually, you and Carl became best friends; going and growing through hell together. You both survived through so much and yet you helped him look on the brighter side of life.

Over time, as you two grew older, the two of you slowly fell in love with one another but never said a thing because one- you're either running from the dead, and two- neither one of you thought you liked each other back.

But one thing was for certain; you wanted a man who loves you like you're father loved your mom.

It was like any other day for you and Carl. You both sat in your bedroom reading comic books, the soft sound of Johnny Cash playing in the background filling your ears.

You looked over at the Grimes boy, looking over the handsome features you've grown to love over the last few years; to his long shaggy hair, his beat-up cowboy hat, and his missing eye something he was very insecure of but you thought was badass.

Before he could catch your gaze though, you looked down and the record stopped playing which made the both of you groan. "Great. Now one of us has to get up and flip it over." You whined, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at the record player in your room.

Carl sighed and pushed himself off the ground, walking over to the record playing and taking the record off. "What are you doing?" You asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Carl smiled and turned to you. "Putting on Abba. I thought Dancing Queen was your favorite and you want to listen to it?" He spoke and he wasn't entirely wrong.

"I do but I thought you wanted to listen to Johnny Cash?" You spoke softly and Carl just rolled his eye and turned to face you. "Does it matter what I want?" He spoke before turning to face the record player and placing the needle on the record, the song Dancing Queen filling the room as he made his way and sat back down next to you.

That day you knew that Carl was the type you wanted, the type you knew would love you like your father did to your mom.

So, you contemplated forever, debating on telling him how you felt but when you did; you wrote him a nice simple letter and left it on the inside of his hat. It took him a while but he finally found it, looking at it with confusion while the words "read me cowboy" jumped out at him in all capital letters.

He knew it was from you because only you called him cowboy and only you would do something like leaving a letter on the inside of his hat.

So, he read it as instructed and he became over the moon because not only did you tell him how you felt but you actually liked him back.

Carl rushed out of the house to look for you, going to all the places he knew you would be. He went to Rosita, to Maggie and Glenn's place because you loved playing with Herschal Jr before finally finding you training with Jesus.

"Looks like you're boyfriend is here" Jesus joked which made you roll your eyes and flip him off as you made your way over to Carl. "Hey cowboy" You spoke with a teasing smirk but your smirk was wiped clean off your face when he held up the letter.

"Are you telling the truth?" He asked, needing reassurance like he always did when he was unsure of something. You gave him a small smile and nodded your head. "Yes. Why would I lie to you of all people?" You asked and before you could say anything else, his lips were pressed against yours.

As the two of you kissed, your hand moved to the back of his neck while his hands moved to your waist. After a minute, the two of you pulled apart and he pressed his forehead against yours.

"You don't know how long I wanted to do that" He whispered against your lips and you giggled, moving to play with the soft locks of his hair. "It's about damn time, cowboy" You spoke back and he immediately pressed his lips against yours, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

Ever since then, he truly loved you like your father did your mom and maybe even more than he ever did.

[weneeya]

Another request 👉🏼👈🏼

Depressed geto × reader , Their first meeting and their attraction to each other, and how geto finally felt like he could breathe after he felt happy with her and fell in love with her.

saving his life w/ geto m.list | rules

note. thank you for your request!! I'll try my best then <3 requests are open :)

The last few days, or even weeks, were pretty hard for Geto Suguru. Since the incident with his best friend and their mission, Suguru hasn't been the same. He was clearly overthinking all the time, and getting out was a real difficulty for him. He was doing the bare minimum, when he was able to. Depression was hitting hard, even if he refused to admit it. 

He was outside today, as he had to do some groceries. Nothing too much, but it was a necessity. Long black hair running down his shoulders, and visible dark circles under his eyes ; no one would dare even approach him like this. No one except you. 

He was in front of a display, looking for something, when he heard someone clear his throat. You were right behind him, with this soft look on his face, all shy at the idea of talking to him. You looked away, playing nervously with the handle of your bag. 

“Excuse me, can you help me, please? I need this, up there, but I can’t reach it,” you said, pointing out the thing on the top shelf. He looked at it, before looking back at you. He stayed silent, before grabbing the said thing, and giving it to you. A smile appeared on your lips, before you let his gaze again. 

“Thank you!” You told him, before slightly waving at him. In those words, you left to go back to doing your own groceries. He stayed there for a few moments before a soft smile left his lips, going back to what he was doing. 

After this, you met each other a few times. It was like fate wanted you to meet again and again. It was in random situations, and soon or later he learned your name. He wasn’t really in the mood  to meet anyone, or even to let anyone come into his life ; but you were so sweet, all the time. 

You were like a ray of light in the dark hell of his mind. You were constantly the only positive thing that happened in his day every time he was meeting you. You were just here, with your bright smile and your soft voice. No matter how bad he felt, it was always better when you were here. 

He wasn’t so sure about how he felt about you. It was a bit messy in his head because he was so lost with himself and his own emotions. But after some time, he started to see you voluntarily. In fact, he was asking you out for dates, but he wouldn’t admit it. He wasn’t ready to even think about a relationship right now. 

But you were, and you knew that you started to like him. Suguru was a man who was getting killed slowly by his own mind, and you didn’t want to let him stay in this hell alone. You wanted to help him, and he was willing to let you do it, then you would. 

Day after day, you were growing closer to each other. And finally, Suguru started to realize how he felt towards you. You were a new breath in his life, and he knew that he couldn’t get out of this alone. He needed help, and letting you get into his life would probably be the first step for this. This is why he decided to speak to you about it. 

He called you, asking you to join him in his own apartment, which you did without hesitation. You were a bit worried about him, because he wasn’t really letting you in too frequently. Something inside of you was telling you that something happened. You were glad to see that you were wrong. 

Suguru offered to come sit on the couch with him, and you did without saying anything. Both of you stayed silent for a few moments, before he broke it. He sighed slowly, before massaging his temples. He looked at you, hesitating for some time. 

“I wanted to thank you. You’re helping me, probably more than you would think, and I needed to say thank you,” he started, and you were ready to answer when he stopped you by raising his hand a little. “Let me finish, please.” 

You nodded slowly, and he pursued his words. “I think I’m ready to get some help, for real I mean. But I can’t do this alone. And…” He sighed one more time, rubbing his cheek as he was searching for his words. “What I’m trying to say is that I would love to have you in my life. More than this, I mean.” 

You looked at him without saying anything, processing what he had just said. You weren’t so sure of what he meant, or at least you were scared that you understood it wrong. You were looking into his eyes, before you finally answered. “Are you… asking me out?” 

He looked away, and you could see a hint of a blush over his cheeks. You took it as a yes, and a soft smile appeared on your lips. You slowly grabbed his hands, making him look back at you. “I’d love that, Suguru.” 

This time, it was his turn to process your words. He hoped with everything that you would say yes, but a part of him was scared that he would make you run away. And as you were ready to say something, he simply took your face between his hands to kiss you like his life was depending on it. 

It was only the first step, but he knew that with you in his life, nothing could go wrong.

hope you liked it!! I've done my best, sorry if it's not perfect :(

[pensat-i-fet]

More Gavi (Pablo Gavi x Reader)

**Another cute request. It was fun writing this one and adding a bit of Spanish. I never want to put too much because some people might find it annoying but it obviously makes sense here. Let me know your thoughts about that. And enjoy reading ❤️**

Word count: 2328

Masterlist

Wattpad

"Hey".

"I need your help", he said, getting inside the house without looking back.

"Hello to you too, mister rude".

You walked to the living room right when Gavi turned to look at you, expression serious.

"What's going on?"

"I have to do an advert for Nike".

You couldn't help but hit his arm when he said that.

"Don't come into my house talking as if something horrible has happened and then say that, you idiot. You scared me!"

"I have to speak English!!", he said, raising his hands as if that explained everything.

"So?"

"I don't know how to. You do. So you need to help me".

“Alright then. First lesson. How do you say por favor in English? Easy one to warm up?”

But as much as you wanted to tease him, when you saw his worried face, you knew you would help him. Of course, you were going to. You’d do anything for him.

“I’ll help you”, you said, rolling your eyes.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”

When he hugged you, you sighed. You didn’t need to ask him how to say that you were the stupid girl who fell in love with her best friend and that kept getting friend zoned because you knew that one already.

“What do you need to say?”

“I’ll show you the script they gave me”.

You cleared the table you had been using for work and picked up a notebook just in case you needed it at some point.

“Here”.

A quick look at the list made you frown. “That’s it?”

“Yes”.

“Pablo, it’s just a couple of words that are almost the same as in Spanish”.

“But I pronounce them weirdly!”, he complained again.

“Because you’re Spanish!”

“So are you and you can speak English well”.

“I’m the exception”, you joked, flipping your hair.

Gavi groaned and hit his head against the table, making you laugh. He was so extra.

“How do you say mi amiga es insoportable? (My friend is unbearable)”

“My friend is the most beautiful girl in the world”.

“Hilarious!”

While he still looked at you, pouting, you picked up the notebook and wrote the words down.

“Ok. So we got intensity, which is intensidad”.

“Yeah”.

“So repeat: in-ten-si-ty”.

“In…tensi…ty”.

“You sound like you are afraid of the word when it describes you perfectly”.

“I’m afraid of saying it. Did I do well?”

“Could have been worse. Let’s just say it again but a bit faster”.

You kept practising until he felt confident and you could move to saying the whole sentences in one go.

“Ok, precision now”.

“What?”

His confused face made you laugh. He was so adorable…and you needed to stop thinking about him being adorable.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“The way you said it was funny”.

“Also, the correct way. It’s almost like precisión. Come on…”.

“It’s nothing like precisión”.

“We’ll go slowly with this one then”.

You wrote the syllables down and pointed at each one so he could repeat after you.

“Pre”.

“Pre”.

“Ci”.

“Ci.”

“Sion”.

“Sion”.

“Precision”.

“I can’t!”

This time, instead of putting his head against the table, he put it on your shoulder. One of his hands went to the back of your chair, but the other was on your thigh. You knew he’d always been like this but ever since you were aware of your feelings for him being so strong, it became hard to deal with him touching you so much.

“You know what this reminds me of?”, you said, moving so he could go back to his chair and changing the subject to distract yourself.

“Of what?”

“That episode of Friends in which Phoebe is trying to teach Joey French and she talks slowly and he’s doing fine. But then he has to say the whole thing and says some gibberish. That was you, literally”.

“I’ve never watched Friends. I don’t know”.

You were shocked. How could you have known him for so long and not know this dark secret?

“We can’t be friends, then”.

“Why?”

“I love Friends!”

“We can watch it later. I’m not leaving until I know how to do this so get the guest room ready. Or maybe I’ll fall asleep in your bed again if I convince you to keep teaching me until you literally fall asleep”.

Yeah…that wasn’t going to happen. That was something that happened “before”. Not now.

“You’re doing really well. We’ll be done soon”.

“Really?”, his happy face always made you smile. “How do you say eso es porque tengo la mejor profesora?”

“That’s because I have the best teacher. And yes, that's exactly why".

You continued working on his pronunciation until it was time for dinner. Teaching was exhausting and Gavi run from training straight to your house so you were both starving.

“You don’t have to cook after all you’ve helped me. Let me order something”.

Before you had time to move, Gavi was right behind you, hugging you and putting his chin on your shoulder to look at what you were preparing.

“It’s just pre-made stuff. Move back so I can put it in the oven”.

The way you took his arms off you made him frown. You’ve never reacted like that to him hugging you.

“Are you ok?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”, you asked, putting the food in the oven and avoiding looking at him. Too afraid he’d noticed the reason why you didn’t want him to touch you. “Should I make a salad too?”

“Sure”.

Once the food was ready, you took your plates to the sofa and you found online the episode of Friends you were talking about before. “The one where Joey speaks French”.

You loved screening movies and shows for people. You would look at them whenever you knew something interesting was about to happen and most were annoyed by the spoiler, but Gavi never minded. Especially with horror movies. You saved him from being scared so many times.

“I’m cold”, he said suddenly, and you took your blanket and gave it to him.

He moved closer to you so it could cover both of you and you tried to just focus on the show. No longer interested in looking at him because he was too close and your heart was beating fast enough already.

“I’m still cold”.

“I’m not turning the heating on in March”.

“Cuddle me, then”.

It was too dark, thankfully, for him to see your face at that moment. “I can get you a hot water bottle if you want”.

“Or you could just cuddle me like we have done a million times”.

“My back hurts. I’m comfortable in this position, sorry”.

“Really? Is that why you pulled away from my hug earlier?”

Now you did turn to look at him. Not only had he noticed but he was worrying about it.

“Yeah”.

“Do you need some medicine? Or I could buy some pomade and help you apply it”.

Why was he coming up with the worst ideas?

“I’ll take some paracetamol later, don’t worry. It’s nothing”.

Even though he wasn’t convinced, he didn’t talk about it more. At least he had an answer now for your weird reaction when he hugged you. It had hurt him so much to feel rejected by you…by the best friend he was in love with.

                                    **

Having Fridays off was a blessing. You got to sleep in after a week of early mornings…except for when you got calls at 8.30 am.

“Who on Earth is calling me…”, but then you say the name on the screen and answered immediately.

“I need you!”

Oh God…

“And I need sleep, Gavi”.

“You have to come to film the advert with me, please. I’ve forgotten everything you taught me”.

“No, you haven’t. You’re nervous. And I’m sure they have people there who can help you”.

“But I don’t want them. I want you”.

How you wished he was saying that in another context.

“I’ll be there. But you owe me one. Well…another one”.

“I love you!”

“Yeah yeah yeah”.

Getting out of your warm bed was hard but knowing you were going to spend the morning with Gavi made it a little easier. Even if it was getting harder and harder to just be his friend.

By the time you got there, everyone was getting a bit impatient about having to wait for “a friend”.

“Sorry, traffic was bad”.

“Can we start now?”, said one of the guys with the cameras.

“Yes”, told him Gavi, side-eyeing him. “She has to come with me so she can help me read the lines”.

“As long as we can start working, I don’t care if she wants to be your foot stunt double for the shoots”.

The guy’s grumpy tone made you laugh.

“You don’t want me to kick the ball”.

“I know”, laughed Gavi, kissing your cheek and telling you to follow him.

It was hard, but you managed to resist the urge to touch the area where he had kissed you. You could still feel his lips there. He was making it so difficult…

Gavi was actually way more nervous about speaking those few English words than you expected. He was criticised so much for his on-the-pitch behaviour that he didn’t want this to be another reason for people to make fun of him. So you took this even more seriously than back at your place.

Finally, after some struggling, he was done. And you could tell the crew was so happy to be done with this advert. Something so simple had taken so long.

“More Gavi, yeah…just what the world needs”, you joked when he was going back to where you waited for him.

“It’s what you need, don’t lie. How do you say cuanto más Gavi, mejor?”

“The more Gavi, the better. But that’s a lie so don’t say it to people. Your mum taught you better than that”.

He laughed and put his arm around your shoulder, bringing you closer to his side. And even if you knew this wasn’t helping, at all, you let him. Putting your arm around his waist, you let him hold you because it felt so good to be that close to him. Better than it should.

“How do you say…”, he wasn’t going to stop now, “te como la cara?”

You snorted at that. “I wouldn’t recommend you telling people you want to eat their face. It sounds weird”.

“It doesn’t sound weird in Spanish”.

“That’s because we are weird. So one weird cancels the other”.

“I want to do it anyway”, he said, pretending he was going to bite your cheek and making you move away from him.

“Stop that!”

“But I’m hungry!”

And you kept bickering on the way to your car, not realising once again that the feelings were mutual. That you moved away from him to protect your feelings or that he wanted to be always as close to you as possible because there was no one else that made him feel the way you did.

                               **

Pablito ❤️: the ad is out. I posted on IG. Go see it!

You: compliment your teacher on my behalf. Brilliant job she did.

Pablito ❤️: I’m on my way.

You: I didn’t mean literally!

The doorbell alerted you that Gavi was already there. This boy…

“What is that?”

“Your favourite cupcakes as a thank you”.

“You still owe me but thank you for always enabling my sugar addiction”.

He stayed in the living room while you went to the kitchen to get some napkins and plates for the cupcakes.

“Ok, the one with all the fruit for you and the one with all the chocolate for me”.

“Can I have a bite of your one?”

“Sure”.

You watched the ad while you ate, laughing at all the moments you knew had to be redone more than 20 times.

“You really made that crew earn their salary that day, Pablito”.

“I don’t think they’ll ever want to work with me again”.

“Who could blame them?”

Seeing you laugh was always special for Gavi. It was while you were laughing at one of his jokes that he thought, for the first time, about how beautiful you really were. He always knew you were but…he fully noticed what that beauty meant to him. The sound you made when you laughed was music to his ears, but it was the way your face lit up that hypnotized him.

“What?”, you asked when you saw him staring at you. “I have chocolate on my face?”

But he couldn’t talk, so he just shook his head.

He was tired of hiding his feelings. Of pretending he wasn’t in love with you for fear of you turning him down. It could ruin your friendship and he knew that. He feared that could happen. But living in fear was painful too. He had to do this.

“Can we have another lesson?”

“Sure”.

You didn’t look very convinced because he was worrying you a bit.

“How do you say te quiero?”

You swallowed. He should know that. Why was he asking? “I love you”.

He nodded. “And how do you say te quiero pero no quiero quererte solo como un amigo?” (I love you but I don't want to just love you as a friend).

“Pablo…”.

“Or should I just say it in Spanish so nothing gets lost in translation?”

“Do you mean it?”, you asked, full of hope.

“I do”.

Seeing you’re reaction gave him the final push to get closer to you. He held your face with his hands and spoke quietly.

“You’re the best friend I could ask for. And a pretty good teacher too. But I want more. Do you want more?”

“More Gavi?”

You both laughed and then you kept leaning forward until your lips finally connected. Finally showing each other how much you really wanted this. And kisses had no language. Everyone could understand what they meant.

[ghxst-kun]

"Aww, man!"You hear bakugo hiss from the floor. "This always happens!" he cursed, standing up.

You try to breathe as quietly as possible but you knew it was useless.

Katsuki had great hearing.

He turned around at lightning speed looking right in front of your face.

"Y/n?" He asked.

"Shhh! Keep it down! I don't want the others to know I'm in here!" You whispered, putting your hands over his mouth.

When he nods, as u finally remove ur hands from his mouth and let them drop to ur sides

You did your best not to look down and admire his half naked body.

"Why are you in here?" he whispered. "Were you spying on us?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"NO! The girls wanted to pull a prank on you guys but I ended up getting stuck in here!" You explained desperately.

"Oh!" he sighed, smiling a little. His face soon dropped. "So...did you hear everything then?" he asked, looking down a little and blushing.

You were way too aware of the lack of room in the closet. You was an inch away from being pressed up against bakugo body and it was driving your mind a little wild. Your imagination was going crazy with the possibilities. You were finding it hard to concentrate.

"Not everything…" you said, wanting to tell the truth but not wanting to sound like you listened in on purpose. Even if you did.

"Fuck. I'm sorry, Y/n" he said, a little desperately.

You watch him, confused. What was he apologising for? He still looked down, away from you and he suddenly punched the wall beside him.

You flinched as a bunch of equipment fell off the shelf and landed behind u guys. He jumped forward to avoid u getting hit and ended up flush against You

"You're really close" You whispered, feeling his hot breath against the exposed skin on the top of your chest.

His head was still facing down and his lips were millimetres away from your cleavage. Your closed eyes, trying not to think bad thoughts. He was your best friend. You are not supposed to be in love with your best friend. He was probably in love with another girl.

Your heart was pounding and you could feel your skin getting slick with sweat.

"Y/n" he said, barely more than a whisper. You could feel his lips brush ur skin.

You couldn't help feeling like the room got hotter. You felt a fire spread through your body, rushing through your veins until it pooled at your lower belly.

His head rose until you were face to face. His eyes were hooded and his lips were close enough to kiss.

"Katsuki?" You asked, feeling the whisper of his lips against your own.

"What did you hear?" he asked, his voice deeper and raspier

"I heard you talking to Kirishima about a girl and then you guys all arguing...and the other stuff" you blushed, thinking about katsuki saying he was bigger than Kirishima . You swallowed, trying to dispel your bad thoughts.

“So you don’t know who I like?”he asked, squinting his eyes to assess you.

"No" you sighed, and paused before adding "I'm sure they’re wonderful though…"

You looked down, unable to meet his piercing gaze.

"Why d'ya say that?" he asked.

"Because any girl that you like has to be wonderful. Just like you" you said, sadness seeping through your voice.

"Yeah.. They’re pretty wonderful"

"Well I'm sure they feel the same way and you can get married and have kids. Have the perfect life. You wouldn't need me anymore..."

"Man, I think about havin' kids with them all the time" he said, moving his head so he whispered it in ur ear. You shivered. "But you're wrong. I'd still need you"

"W-Why?" You spluttered, feeling urself go red.

"'Cause they'd need their mum and I'd need my wife." he said cockily, drawing his face away from your ear so he could watch your reaction.

You immediately blushed more than before and spluttered.Your heart was running a mile a minute and you felt the familiar heat settle between your legs.

Before u could think about it any further, he kisses you.

It was a little hesitant at first, like he was worried you was going to push him away, but as soon as you responded, he pushed back with a renewed passion, as if his whole body was overwhelmed with the need to kiss you.

It was like he had caught on fire, he moved his lips against yours in a frenzied passion, not wasting any time as he pushed you against the wall behind you and let his hands wander, not caring about the equipment he knocked to the floor.

Katsuki was actually kissing you. Did that mean you was his crush? It must be, right? He practically told you they were going to get married and have kids. You was pretty sure if he asked then you would say 'yes' immediately to either suggestion.

U moaned, unable to keep it in when realised that having kids with katsuki would mean having katsuki.. seemed to take it as a good sign because he pushed further into you, pressing his body flush against urs so that u could feel his thick erection pressing into u.

U gasped as bakugo took the chance to push his tongue into you mouth, tasting and pressing his tongue against your own. He tasted like gunpowder. That was the best way you could describe it; warm and smokey just like his smell. It turned ur legs to jelly and, if katsuki had not grabbed roughly onto ur hips, u would have collapsed in a puddle in the ground.

The shuffling of feet outside only made katsuki pause for a minute, stilling his lips against urs, before he continued again. Obviously deciding that kissing her was more important than being found out. U couldn't disagree, and u found it flattering that he felt the same.

Luckily, no-one entered as Katsuki’s hands wandered from ur hips, pushing under ur shirt until they rested on the bare skin of ur side, his thumbs skimming the undersides of ur breasts.

Your heart was pounding against ur chest, your breath hitched when He pulled away to look at u with hooded eyes.

"Y/n," he moaned, before he ducked his head to kiss ur neck. U raise ur head to give him better access, shivering as u felt all of his burning kisses.

You weren’t exactly sure how they had gotten to that point but you was just about ready to rip ur shirt off when Katsuki started tugging at it. He only paused his hot kisses for a moment to throw the material away, taking a minute to groan at the sight of ur breasts only clad in a lacy bra, before he pressed his lips against u again, taking advantage of the newly revealed skin by kissing his way over the top of ur chest.

You grab tightly onto his back, so tight u swore u must have dug ur nails in, but neither of u noticed as Katsuki’s hands slowly made their way to the back of your bra.

"Shit wait Katsuki~!" You cooed, forgetting that they should probably be quiet considering their surroundings.

He deftly unhooked ur bra.

"Shit, y/n. You're even hotter than I imagined." He groans, watching ur chest intensely, as if he was trying to memorise it for a later date.

Before u could even reply - or question the fact that he had imagined u naked - he had dipped his head down to take one of ur nipples in his mouth, rolling his tongue around it experimentally until u gasped. He used a spare hand to play with ur free breast, pinching and moulding it until u were finding it hard to contain ur moans.

He pressed u further against the wall and grinded against u, swearing at the sweet friction it created. Just as he was about to buck against u again, u wrap ur legs around his waist to get closer together. It was so worth it when u felt his hard length rub u again.

"Ah! Katsu! So good!" You cried, hardly able to make fully formed sentences.

Head clouded with lust, you pulled one hand from his back and snaked it around his front, slipping it into his boxers to explore the one part of him u had never been able to touch before. He hissed as u wrap ur hand around him, moving his head away from ur breast to press ur foreheads together. His eyes were scrunched shut and he let a gasp out as u gently rubbed up and down his shaft.

Before u knew it, bakugo was pulling off ur shorts and diving a hand inside of ur panties. You gasped - unsure whether it was because of the shock or the pleasure - as his hot fingers found ur clit and started gently massaging it.

"So warm," he moaned, moving his face so he could give u a lingering kiss. "Fucking Wet," he said, as he slid his fingers along ur slit, trying to find ur opening.

You was desperately clutching onto both his back and his erection, moving ur hand faster so he could feel just as good as he was making you feel right now.

You bit back a cry as his finger finally slipped into ur entrance. It was new and strange but it felt so good and when he starting moving it in and out u had a hard time remembering what u were supposed to be doing.

"So good," you gasped as he let another finger slip inside you. "So, so good!"

He started moving his fingers fast, teasing ur clit with his thumb.

"Come on y/n." He demanding, curling his fingers until u let out a quiet scream, "Fuck. You need to come."

You weren’t sure if it was his demand or the way he kissed u - hard - after, but it u shattered instantly, Katsuki swallowing your whimpers as u came on his fingers.

U could still feel his hard, throbbing erection in ur hands and u knew u were far from done. You needed him. So bad

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | lX

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: A victory party commences and you're noticing some red flags but maybe your love for Eli is enough to oversee it.

Warnings: Hawk being Hawk, bullying, kissing, swearing

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Season 2 has begun! I can't wait to write out the upcoming chapters cause I really think there's so much drama (and your girl loves drama)! Also would love to hear some feedback about this story! Send in an ask or comment!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“So you might be wondering what a team does after they win the championship,” Aisha smiled into the camera. “The answer? Victor nachos!” She panned over the plate of nachos ordered for the table.

You cheered as you clinked your glasses together. 

“It was supposed to be a round of drinks but the waitress was not feeling Hawk’s fake ID,” Aisha said. 

Your eyes widened and you stifled a laugh at the look on Eli’s face. 

“Hey, don’t talk about that, my parents follow you,” he whispered. 

You chewed on your lip, suppressing a smile when Aisha apologized to his parents directly. 

“No mercy, bitches,” she closed off before joining the three of you.

Now that the weekend was here, you went for a victory dinner with your friends. Demitri tagged along as well. 

While you were still mad at Eli, you both haven’t spoken about the night of the tournament. You continued to text about anything else, but it was evident something was going on based on the space between the two of you and the fact that you hadn’t kissed since then.

“I gotta say, it’s kinda nice to be at a victory party,” Demitri grinned, pulling you from your thoughts, and grabbing a nacho from the plate. 

A smile appeared on your face. Demitri wasn’t a part of Cobra Kai, so you were glad he was able to share this moment with you, even if your boyfriend disagreed.

“Yeah, except you had nothing to do with the victory,” Eli smirked, taking the nacho right out of his best friend’s hand. 

“Well, I like to consider this a belated party for the coding competition we won at computer camp,” Demitri answered. “Remember?” 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of that. It was a lonely two weeks for you, not having anyone to hang out with or talk to, but the moment they arrived back, you were so excited to hear their stories. Especially their song, which Demitri happened to be singing at the moment.

Aisha burst out in laughter at the corniness and you joined in, only because of the way Demitri started dancing.

“Hey, cool it with the nerd shit, huh?” Eli whispered to Demitri. 

Your smile fell for a brief moment and you wondered what that was about. Sending a comforting glance at Demitri, you knew he was taken aback at the sudden outburst.

“Is Miguel around? His wings are getting cold,” you gestured to his food, deciding to focus on something else.

“He’s probably moping about Sam,” Aisha said. 

“We should probably go check on him,” your boyfriend said.

You slid out of the booth so Eli could leave, and when you sat back down, you were met with a knowing look from Demitri. 

“What’s going on with you?” He looked at you concerned.

“Is it that obvious?” You raised a brow, crossing your arms on the table. 

“Seeing as I’ve known you the majority of my life, I will say yeah,” he blew out a breath, passing you a lopsided grin. “I also know you well enough to know it has something to do with Hawk,” he mocked your boyfriend’s nickname and with how you were feeling, you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

It died down quickly when your attention was focused back on what happened.

“You saw what he did to Robby,” you began, playing with your fingers. “Sensei taught us not to show mercy, but,” you ended the thought and shook your head, brows furrowed. “What happened to Eli?”

He sighed before taking a deep breath. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” he shrugged.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love his confidence,” you said. “But this is borderline psycho,” you pointed out. “And when did your guys’ theme song become lame?!” You exclaimed. “He’s changing more each day,” your voice fell solemn. “And now I’m not sure if I like it.”

“I know, it sucks but,” he paused, licking his lips. “Just take a breath,” he reassured, patting your hand gently. “Talk to him, I think he’d still listen to you.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. You pressed your lips together and you both stayed there, holding hands in comfort. When your boyfriend came back, his brows creased as he stared at your held hands. You sighed as you pulled away.

“What the hell’s going on?”

You took in a breath as you glanced at Demitri, his look telling you it was okay. “We need to talk,” you said, standing up from the booth. 

His demeanor changed, worry filling him but he nodded, following you outside.

“What’s going on?” Eli asked, sitting next to you on the curb while you hugged yourself. He pulled you into his side.

You shut your eyes, welcoming it and finding comfort in his embrace.

“I don’t know,” you licked your lips. “You tell me,” you inhaled.

He sighed, maneuvering so you were facing the same way, his hand on your arm. “I’m not gonna apologize for what I did to Robby,” his voice was calm. 

“I’ll forget about it for this reason, but I’m still waiting on my apology for what you said,” you stared down at your interlocked hands, running your thumb against his knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean what you thought I meant, I wouldn’t hurt you, ever,” he brushed his lips over your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“What about Demitri?”

“What about him?”

“Binary Brothers,” you said.

“I don’t like that nerd shit anymore,” he scoffed. “It’s loser talk.”

“They’re memories, who cares if you went to computer camp?”

“I care,” he stated. 

“You don’t have to lose yourself completely,” you looked up at him. “You can still like computers and be badass.”

“You don’t understand,” he shook his head. “I can’t go back to that, to that life. Things are perfect right now and I can’t let anyone ruin it, not even Demitri,” he gulped. 

Your face fell when you realized it before you reached up to cup his cheek.

“I understand,” you pressed your forehead against his. “More than you know,” you leaned in to kiss him. “You can be nicer to Demitri though,” you pulled away. “He’s your best friend.”

He didn’t respond, only looking out onto the street. 

You followed his gaze and it went unspoken that things were good now.

~

You were talking to Aisha when the bell rang at the entrance. You smiled as you greeted your boyfriend, cupping the sides of his face and going in for a kiss. You were happy that things were okay, no more silent arguing or rough patches, and you could return to having a boyfriend.

“Hi, babe,” he greeted, hand on your waist.

“What the hell happened here?” Miguel asked, referring to the broken mirror and fire damage on the wall.

“Looks like Sensei threw a party,” Aisha shrugged.

You rested your hands on your belt as you listened.

“Must have been pretty sick if fire got involved,” Eli smirked, shrugging off his bag. 

You hiked your shoulders up before the four of you made your way onto the mat.

The new students gathered inside, wondering what happened as well, their mummers were loud but were cut short as Sensei appeared, kicking them out.

“Everyone, fall in!” He instructed the class once everyone left. He walked over to the front of the class. He didn’t seem pleased even compared to his normal state of being intense.

“Must’ve been a rager, Sensei,” Eli said, smirking.

You raised a brow in amusement as Miguel continued.

“Were you celebrating all weekend?” 

“Celebrating what? That my students are a bunch of pussies?” He asked, face filled with anger.

You furrowed your brows, unsure of what he meant.

“Diaz, Hawk, upfront,” he snapped his fingers.

The two boys glanced at each other, confusion written on their faces before they complied.

Sensei stalked behind them before he began. “Hawk. Did you attack your opponent when his back was turned?” He asked.

Eli raised a brow, glancing over his shoulder. Reluctance filled his features before he responded. “Yes, Sensei,” he said, swallowing down any hesitation and keeping a stern face on.

Sensei narrowed his gaze before moving to Miguel. “Diaz, did you purposely attack your opponent’s injury?” 

“Yes, Sensei,” he responded with more assurance, but still he held that look of confusion.

“You think that makes you badass?” Sensei circled them, facing them.

Neither could answer.

“Miss Robinson! Miss L/N!” Sensei shouted.

“Yes, Sensei,” you both responded.

“Two cobras in the jungle. One kills the strongest lion, the other kills an injured monkey. Which cobra do you wanna be?”

“The one that kills the lion, Sensei,” you responded in union.

“And why is that?”

“Because it killed a stronger animal,” you said.

“Correct!” He yelled, conviction in his tone. “Cobra Kai is about being badass. And the baddest badass is when he beats his opponent when he’s at his strongest!” His voice raised. “Not when his back is turned!” He screamed directly in Eli’s face. “Not when he’s injured!” He did the same to Miguel. “Is that understood?” He turned to the class. 

“Yes, Sensei!” You responded with the rest of the class, a crease between your brows as you looked at your boyfriend.

“That means no more cheating, no more fighting dirty, from here on out those are pussy moves and you don’t wanna be pussies.”

“No, Sensei!” 

“Good, that’s why I had you wear your white belts, we’re starting over,” he stood in the middle of class. “Hawk, Diaz, fifty push-ups on your knuckles. Miss Robinson, Miss L/N, warm them up,” he pointed at the two boys before directing them towards you two.

You let out a breath before you followed Aisha to the front of the class. You nodded before you spoke. “Fighting position. Jab punch. Ready? Hiya!” You shouted, following through with the movement.

Adrenaline coursed through you as you directed the class alongside Aisha. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Eli and Miguel do push-ups. You couldn’t say you felt bad, part of you felt better knowing your Sensei didn’t agree with what went down either.

Only, you knew your boyfriend would feel differently, it was only a matter of time until you saw you were right.

~

After class, you were sent off with a homework assignment—watch Over the Top. That’s how you ended up in Eli’s basement with the rest of the dojo, the movie playing on the TV. 

You were curled into Eli’s side, feet tucked under you as you both shared a bowl of popcorn. The movie was definitely unlike anyone you saw, but it was a good movie you guessed.

“Use a coaster, dipshit” Eli flicked a kernel at one of your friends.

You snickered, Eli smiled down at you before he settled.

The movie ended and Miguel was the last to leave. 

Once the basement was cleaned up, you were about to leave but Eli had another idea.

“Come on, stay,” he stopped you from texting your dad to pick you up, a smile on his face. “We could watch a movie or something.”

Your eyes widened. “Mean Girls,” you stated.

He chuckled before grabbing the remote to put it on.

A few minutes later, the movie was playing but you were not watching. Somehow, Eli had managed to turn your attention to him and since then, his lips never left yours. 

His hand was on the small of your back while you curled your hand around his neck, your other hand resting on his chest. 

Since the weekend, all you and Eli have been doing was kissing. While you enjoyed it, you missed the moments where you kept each other company or even talked. That’s why you pulled away. 

He chased after your lips but you stopped him.

“How about we watch the movie?” You asked, chewing on your lip. “We’ve been kissing non-stop and my lips need a break,” you chuckled. 

He inhaled before passing you a smile. “Sure.” 

You paid attention this time, watching as Cady met the Plastics. The movie went on, your arm thrown across Eli’s abdomen while your cheek rested in the crook of his shoulder. You glanced up at him momentarily to see if he was watching.

“Do you like this movie?” You asked.

“It’s interesting,” he shrugged. “The blonde chick’s pretty badass for the shit she does,” he answered. “But tell me how realistic it is,” he glanced down at you, an amused look plastered on his face.

“Wish I could tell you, but instead of playing Barbies with other girls I was stuck watching you and Demitri trade Pokémon cards,” you joked. 

“Don’t remind me,” he sighed.

You furrowed your brows up at him. “Hey, seeing you get excited over getting Charizard for the first time was the moment I realized I liked you,” you stated, voice lightening at the memory.

He blinked at the realization. “You’ve liked me since then?” He looked at you.

You were left mouth agape. “I-uh,” you gulped. “Yeah, since then,” you smiled. “The nerdiness was cute,” you added. 

Something flashed over him as his gaze dropped. “And now?” 

“Your confidence,” you shrugged. “Your strength. I feel safe when I’m around you,” you said truthfully.

He smirked, reaching down to cup your jaw. 

“I like you though, Eli, all of you. And you don’t have to be a certain way around me,” you stated, sitting up. “I love you,” you confessed.

His eyes lit up. “I love you too,” he said with conviction. 

You beamed, reaching down to kiss him. You couldn’t believe you said it. But you were glad you did.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hi hun, I was wondering could you write 🥺

Bucky Barnes w/ fem reader with the quote

“You love me?” || “I always have”

If it’s taken I can choose another 💜

hi missy!! i will absolutely write that for you, it's so cute &lt;;3

words: 766

summary: when you wake up after a mission, confessions are made.

Bedside Visitor

bucky barnes masterlist

The feeling of waking up in the medical wing of the Avengers Compound was not something you cherished, but it did happen more than you would have liked it to. This time however, was not because of a trip down the stairs or a bad cold, but an injury sustained in the field. There was nothing you could do about it now, but you’d prefer not to relive the memory of getting shot in the stomach again. 

Once your eyes had adjusted to harsh light of this room, you noticed that you weren’t alone, and you were in no way surprised about who was sitting on one of the uncomfortable chairs across from the foot of your bed. 

“Bucky,” you breathed in a voice no louder than a whisper, just glad to see that he was okay. You weren’t surprised that your best friend would be here, but you certainly hoped that he had taken care of himself before camping out here to watch over your sleeping body.

You didn’t want to wake him, but unfortunately you were not successful in that endeavor. Seconds later he was at your bedside, looking into your eyes with an expression of worry you had never seen before. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” you said, not wanting to worry him any more than he clearly was. 

“I watched you pass out,” he said, clearly not calmed down by your brushing off of the subject. “And there’s a hole in your abdomen.” 

“Okay, so maybe I’m not feeling super great right now,” his eyebrows raised as you spoke. “But I made it out, we’re back in the compound, everything is going to be fine, I promise.” 

“Y/N-” 

“Bucky-” 

“From where I’m standing, this is very much not fine,” he said seriously. “When I heard the gunshot, when you fell, I felt like my whole life flashed before my eyes.” 

“Wow,” you said. “Didn’t know I had such an effect on you, Bucko.” 

You could he was starting to get annoyed, but you weren’t completely sure why. Yes, you knew that you cared for you, you cared for him too. But this job wasn’t exactly all meetings and presentations, and you were not the first member of the team to land themselves in a situation that required medical care because of something that had happened out on a mission. 

“Can we please be serious for a moment?” he asked, and you nodded, not wanting to annoy him too much. “How are you feeling?” 

“Not too bad, considering what has happened to me in the last twenty four hours,” you said. “But that’s probably because of some kind of medication they have me on.” 

“Yeah, the doctors put something in the IV,” he said, nodding. “They told me that with some time and physical therapy you’ll make a full recovery, but I still can’t help being worried. I’ve never liked it when the people I love are in pain, and this is no exception.” 

Whatever you were originally going to say in response completely vacated your brain, and you were left to process the insane admittance that Bucky probably hadn’t even realized he had made. “You love me?” 

He stopped, as if just now putting the pieces together. You watched as his face changed, his brain clearly trying to figure out something to say in response before he let out a soft sigh and spoke. “I always have. But I was never sure how you felt about me, so I kept it to myself. I’d rather be your friend than lose you over something as stupid as this.” 

“Bucky,” you said, reaching out in search of his hand. As if he knew what you wanted, he extended it in your direction. “First of all, you could never lose me, and especially not over something as stupid as this. And second of all, I love you too.” 

He stopped, an expression of surprise crossing his face, then a smile. “Really?” 

You nodded. “Really. And I’d really like to kiss you, but I can’t really move my body right now.” 

He laughed before leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips, and as much as you would have liked to have your first kiss not severely injured, it was perfect in a way you could never truly put words to. 

But of course, there would be many chances for re-dos, and you never wanted to stop kissing him. And from the way he poured all his emotions into this kiss, you had an inkling that he probably felt the same way.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[cmdrfupa]

Happy Birthday, @courtneedsleep 🫐🫐 This is a Gojo certified fic so I'm hoping its to your liking. You're the best and I hope your day is filled with love!!

an: This is just straight up crack 😮‍💨

Satoru Gojo wasn’t used to struggling. He was the strongest and made sure that rang true with every move he made. But when it came to winning over Courtney, the talented pianist and math wizard, his usual charm wasn’t quite enough.

He first saw her during one of her piano performances in a quiet café, her fingers dancing over the keys with such grace that he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Like watching live art as her concentration on the melody made him swoon.

Gojo being Gojo, he figured his usual grin and confident attitude would do the trick. But Courtney? She didn’t bat an eyelash. She hooked arms with her friend and walked out of the cafe, completely focused on her agenda for the day.

That’s when Gojo realized he had a challenge on his hands. “Guess it’s time to consult the experts,” he said with a grin, determined as ever. ‘Something has to work.”

Step One: Seek Advice

Megumi

Gojo’s first stop was, naturally, Megumi Fushiguro. It was always fun to pester the kid, and Gojo was convinced that Megumi secretly knew more about romance than he let on.

“Megumi!” Gojo called, draping an arm over his protege's shoulder. Megumi didn’t even flinch, used to this kind of behavior by now. “I need some advice.”

Megumi’s brows knitted together in a frown as he looked up from his book. “If this is about how to avoid paperwork, I’m not helping.”

“No, no, it’s much more important than that.” Gojo grinned, stepping in front of Megumi and blocking his path. “I need to know how to impress Courtney.”

Megumi paused, looking mildly confused. “Why would you need to impress her? You’re Gojo Satoru. Isn’t that usually enough?”

“That’s the thing! My charm isn’t enough for someone so cool, so demuretsy,” Gojo said, waving his hands dramatically. “So, I need a plan—a real plan.”

Megumi closed his book with a sigh. “Why don’t you just ask her what she likes?”

Gojo’s face fell flat. “Ask her? Megumi, where’s the fun in that?”

“Maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the point. You’re trying to court her. You’re showing her that you are a gentleman.” Megumi muttered, moving to walk around Gojo. “Right now, it sounds like you’re over-complicating things. Again.”

“I am not over-complicating anything!” Gojo protested, trailing after him. “I’m making things better.”

“Uh-huh,” Megumi said dryly, clearly uninterested in Gojo’s theatrics. “Here’s a tip: don’t be strange.”

Gojo gasped. “I am not strange!” He then blinked as Megumi shot him a look. “Okay, maybe a little, but I’m endearing, right?”

Megumi didn’t respond, opting to bury himself in his book again. “She mentioned the chamber music society having a recital later this week. Maybe take her.” he repeated. “Or; Ask her what she likes.”

Gojo huffed, brushing off the lackluster advice. “Fine. I’ll just ask someone who knows what they’re talking about.”

Megumi didn’t even bother looking up. “Good luck with that.”

Shoko

Next, Gojo headed to the infirmary where Shoko was finishing up her rounds. If anyone could give him good advice on wooing someone smart, it had to be Shoko, right? She had brains, after all.

He burst through the door, all energy and smiles. “Shoko! You’ve gotta help me!”

Shoko looked up from her clipboard, raising an eyebrow. “Gojo, I’m busy. What is it this time?”

“It’s important!” Gojo exclaimed, running behind Shoko as if he were a puppy needing instruction. “I need advice on how to impress Courtney.”

Shoko exhaled slowly, setting her clipboard aside. “You want advice from me? Are you sure about that?”

“Absolutely! You’re smart, she’s smart, it’s a perfect match.” Gojo flashed a toothy grin.

“Uh-huh,” Shoko muttered, walking out to the courtyard as she took a drag from her cigarette. “And why exactly do you think I’d know how to help you court someone?”

“Because you’re a genius!” Gojo leaned forward, eyes sparkling with hope. “Come on, I need something good.”

Shoko studied him for a long moment, amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You could always impress her with math.”

Gojo blinked. “Math? Why math?”

“She’s good at it, right? And you’re essentially a walking TI-84 plus,” Shoko said dryly. “You might win her over with just how smart you can be.”

Gojo looked confused for a moment before brightening. “That’s genius! I’ll show off the mathematician-level math equations and blow her mind.”

Shoko couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Yeah, sure. Knock yourself out.”

As Gojo prepared to charge off on his new mission, Shoko called after him, “Oh, and Gojo?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Don’t mix up your math and your sorcery,” she smirked. “We don’t need you accidentally summoning something or blowing a hole through someone’s chest while trying to impress her.”

Gojo winked. “No promises.”

Nanamin

After his interesting conversation with Shoko, Gojo’s last stop was Nanami Kento. Convincing the ever-serious sorcerer to help with romance advice was going to be a challenge, but Gojo was never one to back down from a challenge.

“Nanamin!” Gojo sang as he appeared beside Nanami during his lunch break.

Nanami sighed, barely glancing at Gojo as he sat his sandwich down. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But Nanamin,” Gojo grinned, leaning against the wall, “I need your help. This is an emergency.”

“If it’s an emergency, it’s probably because of something you did,” Nanami muttered, not looking up from his newspaper.

Gojo waved him off. “No, no, this time it’s serious. I’m trying to impress Courtney.”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitched. “Why are you asking me for advice?”

“Because you’re reliable!” Gojo said, plopping into the chair across from him. “And Courtney likes smart, down-to-earth people. And I know you used to be pretty close, So, I figured you’d know what to do.”

Nanami set his newspaper down, staring at Gojo like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “If she likes smart people, I’m not sure why you’re involved.”

Gojo gasped dramatically. “Rude! I’m smart in my own way.”

Nanami adjusted his glasses and sighed. “Fine. If you want my advice, Courtney appreciates nature. She tends to go on walks for mental clarity and stimulation. Why don’t you take her somewhere peaceful? Somewhere quiet.”

Gojo’s eyes lit up. “A nature date! Perfect! Thanks, Nanamin, I knew I could count on you.”

Nanami raised a hand. “Don’t… call me that.”

But Gojo was already gone, darting out of the room with his newfound “brilliant” idea. Nanami pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting that he had offered any advice at all.

Step Two: Execute Plan… Poorly

After talking to Shoko, Gojo decided that math could be his way in—but not by showing off. No, this time, he’d pretend to be a bit clueless, all to get Courtney’s help. It was a foolproof plan.

Later that afternoon, Gojo found Courtney sitting in a secluded part of the library. A short stack of books on one side as she seemed to be mentally dissecting an equation. Her focus was intense, her brow furrowed as she tapped away at the numbers, slouched with no regard to anything outside of her studies.

“Hey, Courtney!” Gojo greeted, sliding into the chair beside her. “Whatcha doing?”

Courtney looked up, offering him a polite smile. “Just working through my study guide... Why?”

Gojo fidgeted for a moment, trying to appear just a little less confident than usual. “Funny you should mention math. I’ve been having a bit of trouble with…uh…differential equations.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You? Trouble with math? You’re like a calculator on legs.”

Gojo chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah, I know, hard to believe, right? But it’s true! This calculator is showing an error. I could really use some help. Could you explain it to me?”

Her expression softened, and she nodded, already reaching for her calculator. “Of course. What are you stuck on?”

Gojo slid a piece of paper toward her with a complex problem he’d scribbled down earlier—something he could solve in his sleep, but that wasn’t the point. The point was watching Courtney as she worked, seeing her in her element. She took the paper, her fingers tapping away at the calculator with practiced ease.

“So, let y= mx +c be the equation of all the straight lines touching the circle…” she began, her voice taking on that thoughtful, problem-solving tone Gojo found oddly captivating.

As Courtney leaned in to explain the math problem, Gojo found himself momentarily distracted—not by the numbers, but by her. Something was mesmerizing about the way she moved, the focus in her eyes when she was solving a problem. She had this quiet confidence, not the flashy kind like his, but the kind that came from truly knowing who she was.

She was so damn smart. Smarter than him, even—not that he’d ever admit that out loud. It was the way her mind worked, the way she saw the world, always curious, always asking the right questions. And, of course, she had this incredible talent with the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys as effortlessly as she worked through equations.

But it wasn’t just her intelligence or talent that made her amazing. It was her kindness. The way she was always so patient, even when she knew she was miles ahead of everyone else. She never made him feel stupid, even when he was faking it just to spend time with her. Instead, she made him want to be better—not because he had to, but because he wanted to deserve the way she looked at him.

She wasn’t afraid to call him out, either, her sense of humor sharp but never cruel. She could tease him, and roll her eyes at his antics, but there was always this warmth behind it, like she saw through all his nonsense and still liked him anyway.

He had been with plenty of people before—admired, even loved by many—but Courtney was different. There was no pretense with her. She didn’t care about his title or his power; she cared about the person beneath all of that. And that scared him a little, because, for the first time, it felt like someone saw him. Saw all of him.

And damn, he liked that. He liked her.

Gojo leaned in closer, feigning confusion. “Wait, wait. Can you go over that part again? I’m not sure I follow.”

Courtney glanced at him, her expression patient, though her lips quirked slightly in amusement. “Alright, Differentiating wrt x we gets you dy/dx – m = 0. Here, let me show you.” She tapped a few more buttons on the calculator and handed it over to him, the screen flashing the results.

Gojo stared at the numbers for a second, pretending to concentrate, though in reality, he was more interested in how focused and serious Courtney looked when explaining something. He handed the calculator back. “Wow, you’re really good at this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Courtney smiled, shaking her head. “You’re exaggerating. It’s not that hard once you get the hang of it.”

Gojo tilted his head, his grin softening. “Maybe, but it’s more fun when you explain it.”

Courtney paused, her eyes meeting his. “Are you really having trouble with this, or…?”

Gojo blinked innocently, placing a hand over his heart. “Me? Having trouble with math? Of course not! I just, uh, like spending time with you.”

Courtney stared at him for a moment, then let out a small laugh, realizing what he’d been up to. “So you tricked me into a math lesson just to hang out?”

Gojo leaned back, grinning widely. “Guilty as charged.”

Courtney shook her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Satoru.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” Gojo teased, his voice warm and playful.

Courtney smiled, unable to argue with that.

While Courtney doodled, Gojo pulled out a small portable keyboard from behind the bench, much to Courtney’s confusion. He set it up quickly, brushing invisible dust off the keys.

“I figured,” Gojo began confidently, “that we could have a little duet since you love music and need could use a little background noise with your drawing! You know, a Toru-Court jam session.”

Courtney tilted her head, both intrigued and concerned. “You… play piano?”

“Of course!” Gojo said, with all the confidence of someone who definitely didn’t know what he was doing. “I’ve got a natural talent for it.”

Courtney sat back, interested to see where this was going. Gojo hit a few keys with gusto, producing a jarring cacophony of sounds that could only be described as an assault on the ears. He attempted a scale, but it sounded more like he was mashing the keys randomly.

Courtney winced, but the look on Gojo’s face—so proud and unaware of how terrible he sounded—made it hard to be mad. He was trying.

“Satoru…” Courtney said, biting back a smile. “Maybe you should stick to your day job.”

Gojo looked up at her, confused for a moment, before laughing sheepishly. “Yeah, okay, fair enough. Music isn’t for everyone.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe it’s not for you.”

Gojo pouted but shrugged off the failure. “Alright, alright, I’ll admit defeat… for now, pretty.”

After failing at both math and music, Gojo was determined to make the nature date his big win. Nanami had suggested something peaceful and quiet, and while Gojo wasn’t sure how to do “quiet,” he figured being in nature would impress Courtney. She loved spending a bit of time outside to clear her mind so this should be perfect.

Gojo planned a late afternoon nature walk. He led her to a beautiful nature reserve just outside the city. The trees were ablaze with autumn colors, and the air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and earth. For the first time this week, Gojo felt like maybe—just maybe—this would go according to plan.

Courtney seemed genuinely relaxed as they strolled through the woods, her eyes scanning the treetops and the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Gojo, for once, managed to keep his mouth shut, enjoying the moment as Courtney spoke softly about the current Sonata she was sight reading for.

But, of course, it didn’t last long.

As they walked, Gojo’s attention was suddenly caught by a bird flitting from branch to branch overhead. His eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Hey, look at that!” he exclaimed, pointing at the bird. “I bet I can catch it.”

Courtney barely had time to process what he said before Gojo was off, leaping into the air as he displayed his athletic abilities, bounding from tree to tree in pursuit of the bird. Leaves fluttered to the ground as Gojo darted through the canopy, his laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet forest.

Courtney stood still, a mixture of confusion and amusement crossing her face. She watched as Gojo, in all his infinite energy, chased after the poor creature like a kid trying to catch fireflies.

Moments later, Gojo reappeared, not with the bird, but holding a very unimpressed-looking squirrel in his hands.

“I got something even better!” Gojo beamed, holding up the squirrel triumphantly as if it were a grand prize.

Courtney’s eyes widened in disbelief before she burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand. “Toru, put the squirrel down.”

Gojo blinked, looking at the squirrel, who glared back at him with the kind of judgment only a small, furry animal could manage. “Oh, right.” He set the squirrel gently on the ground, and it scurried off without a second glance.

“Why did you…?” Courtney started, still laughing.

Gojo scratched the back of his head, his grin sheepish. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Despite the silliness of it all, Courtney couldn’t help but smile. His efforts, while completely ridiculous, were oddly endearing.

Step Three: Courtship Achieved

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Gojo and Court found themselves lying in the grass by the peaceful riverside. The water reflected the warm glow of the sunset, and for once, Gojo wasn’t trying to show off or do anything outrageous. He just sat there, quietly watching the river flow by.

Courtney glanced at him, a soft smile on her lips. “You know,” she said after a moment, “you don’t have to try so hard.”

Gojo looked at her, genuinely confused. “Huh?”

Courtney laughed lightly. “I like spending time with you. You don’t need to impress me with math, music, or…” She trailed off, smirking. “Squirrels.”

Gojo’s face lit up in realization. “Really? So, you mean I don’t have to catch a deer or something next time?”

Courtney rolled her eyes playfully. “No, definitely not. Just… being here is enough.”

Gojo stared at her for a long moment, his usually carefree expression softening into something more sincere. “Well, that’s easy. I can do that.” He wiggled to lie his head in her lap, grabbing her hand and placing it in his hair. “If you don’t mind.”

For the first time in the entire day, Gojo felt content just being still. As they sat side by side, watching the sun dip below the horizon, he realized that maybe he didn’t need to be the strongest or the most impressive when it came to Courtney. He saw Courtney and Courtney saw him. The strongest and the smartest enjoying the smallest moments in the biggest moments.

“So for your birthday, I was thinking something small, intimate.”

“Wait, huh?”

“Wanna get ice cream later? I think there’s a new shop on the way back to mine. We could also look at an ice cream cake for your birthday!”

She looked down for a moment, “ Satoru, you’re going too go overboard.”

“No such thing.” Satoru yawned out-loud, stretching up to expose his midriff. “I’m Satoru Gojo and you’re Courtney. Overboard is simply the bare minimum when it comes to you.”

Dividers by @/thecutestgrotto!

[reminiscentreader]

TIG request: Grayson starts falling for y/n(or however you do that, OC, whatever) who happens to be Jamie’s best friend?

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞? - grayson x oc

-.- DAISY

Daisy had been friends with Jameson hawthorne for as long as she could remember, she had practically grown up around the hawthornes, except there was one specific hawthorne who had never bothered to be-friend her, Grayson davenport hawthorne, but in his defence, she had never seen him with any friends.

Grayson and Jameson along with her and avery were having what you could call a family vacation in london. It was almost christmas, so walking down oxford street to see the lights had become a nightly occurance for them, you see the problem was that while jameson and avery were being all lovey dovey she was stuck with Grayson, and it was safe to say that he was not a fan of talking. Most nights he just ignored her to take pictures of the lights, and on the rare occasion she attempted to make conversation, he gave her close ended answers and made it awkward for her to carry it on, so she mainly just walked around alone. Luckily, tonight, Avery and Jameson were on a date, so there was no need for them to go out, no need for her to wander around aimlessly, no need for unnecessary conversation. She practically screamed with happiness at the thought.

GRAYSON

Grayson had been stood outside daisy’s door for the better part of half an hour, debating whether to ask her if she wanted to go see the lights with him. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew that getting involved with her could ruin her and Jamesons friendship, and Grayson couldn’t let another girl come between them. It was selfish of him really, to ask her, but god he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help thinking about her beautiful smile, he horrendous attempts at making conversation that often consisted of asking him random questions, although he ingnored them, they still made him feel warm inside. god, nobody made him feel warm inside. Except for her.

the worst she can say is no right?

DAISY

A knock sounded at her door. Jameson, maybe? No him and Avery had just left an hour ago. Daisy walked towards the door and put her mouth to the crack. “Who is it?” She asked, “I-uh it’s me, Grayson.” She practically ripped open the door. “Grayson?” She asked, raising an eyebrow, “what are you doing here.” Grayson blushed. That’s right, Grayson Hawthorne blushed, “I- I came to ask you something.” She gestured for him to go on. “Do you want go see the lights with me?” She stared at him blankly. “I mean, you don’t have to- like at all, I was just wandering becau-“

“I’ll come with you.” Grayson looked taken aback, “you will?” She nodded at him, “just give me ten minutes to get ready.”

GRAYSON

half an hour later, they were walking the streets of London, admiring the lights together. Grayson was answering her questions, even asking her some of his own. This was by far the most fun he’d had in a long time. The gentle, powdery snow fell around them, crunching under their boots. After a few more minutes of walking up and down, Daisy suddenly grabbed Graysons hand, “GRAYSON!” She squeeled, naturally, Grayson went into panic mode, “is everything ok? Did something happen?” Daisy grabbed his hand, a huge smile on her face, “no- they’re selling flowers!” Grayson followed her pointing finger with his eyes, she was pointing at a flower stall, perched on the side of the rode.

“Can we go get some?” Grayson had never seen her smile so big, “I suppose so.”

DAISY

Daisy loved flowers, and this flower stall had so many different kinds, lillies of the valley, sunflowers, roses, babies breaths, tulips. This was her kind of heaven. She had honestly forgotten about Grayson until she felt him tap on her shoulder. When she spun around to face him, he was holding a bouquet of flowers.

More specifically, a bouquet of daisies. “Grayson?” She took a gentle step towards him, “are these- for me?” Grayson cleared his throat and looked down, “um, yes. If you want them of course.” She jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck, “of course I want them Grayson!” She couldn’t actually believe that Grayson had just bought her flowers. When she looked up. Grayson was smiling. At her, and god what a gorgeous smile it was.

“Grayson?”

“yes, daisy?” She looked up at him, “can I kiss you?” Graysons eyes widened, “ I mean if you wan-“ she cut him off by pressing her mouth to his.

when they pulled apart, daisy couldn’t stop laughing, “daisy, what are you laughing at?” Grayson looked confused, “it’s nothing, it’s just- I can’t believe Grayson Hawthorne, bought flowers for me.”

-.-

hope you like this anon who requested it! Sorry it took so long, it completely deleted so I had to restart ��

[gennyanydots]

'Cause you're the only one who's on my mind

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x f!reader

Written for @roosterforme ‘s Love is in the air tgm playlist challenge.

My song was “Untouched” by The Veronicas

Masterlist

Life isn’t fair. It really isn’t. The universe found the absolute perfect man for you, better than you could have ever dreamed. He’s hotter than hell especially when he takes his shirt off. One of the nicest people you’ve ever met. Willing to do just about anything for anyone. Attentive. Caring. Funny. Exactly everything you would want in a boyfriend. But there’s always a catch, isn’t there?

You met him in a place you swore you’d never be able to meet a guy worth dating at. A bar. Your best friend had met some hot guy that afternoon when she was out and he told her that they should meet up at some bar later. She told him she couldn’t since it was your monthly girls night out but he told her to bring all her friends and he would bring his. So your girls night out headed out to this random looking dive bar and changed the course of your life for the next few months.

The bar seemed to be crawling with men. Attractive men. Some women here and there but definitely not an even mix. Your friends had each already found a guy to flirt with, including the one your best friend met that afternoon, in the first ten minutes and left you at the bar alone. You were fine with that. You were still looking around and getting your bearings in the new bar. It definitely didn’t lack in things to look at. The walls were filled with different decorations. The mugs on the ceiling was an interesting design choice but you could get behind it.

While looking around, you just happened to glance towards the door and watched as the most beautiful man you had ever seen walk in the bar with a 70’s pornstache while wearing the most ridiculous Hawaiian shirt you had ever seen. Maybe you need to get your head checked. You must being going crazy. A pornstache and a Hawaiian shirt really seemed to be doing it for you and you’re really not sure why. Anyone else and you would have looked away by now but you continued to watch him as he looked around the bar, his eyes finally landing on you and he grinned noticing you looking straight at him. You quickly averted your gaze and felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Of course, he saddled up to the bar next to you taking the open bar stool to your left.

“Hey, do you have a bandaid?” He asked as he sat down with a grin on his handsome face.

“Uh yeah, I think so,” you said as you opened your bag and went to hand him one but he didn’t take it. He just sat with a grin on his face.

“I need one because I just scraped my knee falling for you.”

You raised an eyebrow and threw the bandaid back into your bag and zipped it closed, “That was terrible.”

“It can only get better from here then,” he said, still with that grin plastered on his face. “I’m Bradley, but you can call me yours if you want.” Then he winked at you.

You tried to resist him and his stupid pickup lines, of which he seemed to have an endless supply of, you really did. It was too hard. He was charming, even while wearing that ridiculous shirt of his. He was too funny to ignore. Too handsome. Too everything. You couldn’t help but give in to his advances. You ended up agreeing to one date with him. Just one. Then he convinced you to go on another. Then another. And another. Until you were spending as much time as possible with each other. It was the most fun you’d ever had with any one person. You found out just how many Hawaiian shirts one man could own. But then he had to leave. He had orders.

You both fell hard and fast for each other but then he was gone. Deployed. Somewhere. He couldn’t tell you and you didn’t ask. You had only known each other for a month. A MONTH! And yet as he kissed you goodbye and told you he’d see you when he came home, you watched him walk out your door, with tears streaming down your face, and you knew he was leaving with your entire heart in the palm of his hands.

Your friends thought you were crazy waiting around for someone you barely knew. That the month you spent together wasn’t long enough to base any sort of relationship off of. That you didn’t know him well enough to judge whether you wanted to be with him or not, especially in this tough of a relationship. Plus, it’s not like he made you any promises when he left so it was wrong for him to expect you to wait around.

But that was the thing. He didn’t ask you to wait. He didn’t say anything about that at all when he left. It was your choice to wait for him. You wanted to wait. You wanted to give this a chance. To you it made sense to wait. You knew there wasn’t anyone who was going to be able to compare to Bradley so why even try? You didn’t care what they say or what they think. Bradley was the only one who’s on your mind.

It’s not like you didn’t still go out with your friends. You did. You just turned down every person who came up to you, unless they were offering to buy you a drink because free drinks are free drinks after all.

Bradley’s been gone for close to 6 months now. The longest 6 months of your life. You’ve been able to talk to him twice while he’s been gone and both times not for very long. Just long enough to update each other on the goings on in your lives and to tell him how much you miss him. But anything is better than nothing.

You were kind of procrastinating at work today. You were ahead in some things and you didn’t really feel like pushing yourself today. It was rainy which made it worse. All you wanted to do was climb back in bed. Every once in a while you stared out the window watching the rain fall. It was something to do. You were really just clicking around on your computer to make it look like you were vaguely working. Your motivation was shot for the day but thankfully work was so close to being done.

It was a surprise to see Bradley’s name pop up on your phone and you hurried to answer it, excited to be able to talk to him.

“Bradley!”

“Hey honey! It’s so good to hear your voice.”

You smile, “It’s so good to hear yours too! How are things?”

“They’re good. What about you?”

“Just the normal stuff. Kinda a blah day at work today. It’s raining too so no fun.”

“Well, I hope I can make it better.”

“Getting to talk to you definitely makes it better.”

“I think I can do better than that.”

“Yeah? How are you going to do that?” You ask.

“Look outside.”

You furrow your brow then turn to the window and look, seeing a familiar blue Bronco sitting parallel to the sidewalk outside your office window.

“Wha…. What?” You stutter out.

“C’mon, time to go honey,” he says as he gestures for you to come out.

“K,” you quickly hang up and gather your things before telling to your boss that you had to go then you rush outside to see Bradley standing in the rain holding the car door open for you.

“Let’s go! Before you melt in the rain!” He calls to you with a laugh and you run towards him and jump into his arms. He catches you and holds you flush against him as your legs wrap around his waist and your lips meet his.

After a minute or so you pull away, “That was probably the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“Baby, you have set the bar so low for me. I can’t wait to blow your mind with how romantic I can be,” he says with a grin then with one hand behind your head pulls you down for another kiss.

[dwntwn-strnlo]

WONDERSTRUCK matt sturniolo

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎, dwntwn-strnlo.

↳ 𝐀/𝐍. final part of enchanted! make sure you go read parts 1 and 2!

thank you to the anon who came up w the names for chris' twins!

↳ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. matthew sturniolo x reader

↳ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. i was enchanted to meet you.

↳ 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃? yes! . . . Hey you don’t have to but maybe for your enchanted chapter you could make a pt.3 and do one where it’s years later and they are getting married and in their speeches or vows they could talk about how that time apart was hard for them. And maybe enchanted could be their first dance song. ( Tilly429 on wattpad )

↳ 𝐂𝐖! use of 'y/n', not proofread

"this night is sparkling, don't you let it go . . .

. . . i'm wonderstruck, blushing all the way home."

enchanted - taylor swift . . . speak now, tv. 2023

you knew one of you we’re going to break, but you definitely didn’t expect matt to already be tearing up by the time you and your father turned the corner. the second his eyes landed on you, you studied his face carefully. his eyes were watery, and he nervously chewed on his lower lip; hiding the smile you fell so deeply in love with.

as you started walking down the isle, you send him a gentle smile. he drops his head, shaking it. undeniably trying to hide his flustered expression.

following behind your future niece, chris’ daughter, chloe, whom threw lightly shaded rose petals in a hectic motion, you couldnt help but think about your own kid. though it’ll still be a few years time, you had to hide your giggly expression at the thought of raising your own baby with matt.

taking your eyes off the sweet little blonde girl, you look up to matt. nate and his three brothers stand behind him. nate persuaded his way past the other guys to be the best man, who now has his hand on matts shoulder; whispering something in his ear. matt brings his gaze back to you, his smile only growing more from whatever his best friend said. “see? i told you that you guys would make it eventually.” is what you later learn was muttered to matt, the words made you tear up for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

matt was last to get married. and he would never admit it, but he always hoped thats how it would be. his marriage being the one to seel everything off. the last one to hold onto the youth of his 20s.

even though you werent there for the wedding, chris was the first to get married, marrying his first love, and having twins, a boy and a girl. and then justin got married a few months later. you were lucky enough to be back in their lives when two years later, nick married the man of his dreams. getting to stand beside your best friend as he married the person he would never shut up about. and then a year and a half ago, nathan got married. and after you caught his wifes bouquet, matt sought it to be the perfect opportunity to prevent any more breakups, and proposed to you after the reception.

so of course he and his groomsman would be in tears, even if the other four were already with their forever persons. nobody really wanted to let go, their teenage years way to precious to just sweep away. but they knew it would happen eventually, and that eventually would be now.

reaching the altar, matt smiled down at you. swiping at his eyes with the back of his hand before whispering to you how beautiful you are.

though he’s said those simple words a thousand times over, you still felt as if you were a puddle, slowly seeping to the ground. you knitted your brows together, eyes washed with a joyous sadness, repeating the action and whispering back about how handsome he looks in a tux.

he too looked like the words would make him melt. the two of you couldve whispered to each other up there for hours if you could. lost in your words as you smiled and giggled like a couple of school kids.

“friends and family, thank you all for coming today to share in this wonderful occasion” you looked away to look at the officiant, but apparently it was just you who broke eye contact. “Today we are here together to unite y/n l/n and matthew sturniolo in marriage.”

you turn back to look at matt, feeling hot under his gaze as he admires you closely. the corners of his lips tugging slightly upwards, revealing a small, contempt smile.

his look of admiration causes you to accidentally drone away from the officiant’s words. the quick introduction a haze as you stare longingly into matts blue eyes that you’ve loved staring into for years. his thumb lightly grazing back and forth across the back of your palm. unspoken words sifting through his touch.

“y/n,” you turn to look at the officiant, ripped from your dopey daze. “you may now say your vows.”

taking a shaky breath, you look back to matt. “thank you, matt.” your cheeks get rosier the longer he holds your eyes in his, distracting you from your words. “thank you for ripping out the middle of the book, not letting the story read the end just quite yet, and completely restarting with me.” his expression immediately softens when the words leave your mouth. quickly catching on to the analogy that most of the guests wouldnt be able to catch too. “thank you for not letting the storyline end.”

you could tell how hard it is in this moment for matt not to reach out and wrap his arms around you, embracing you in a never ending hug.

noting that you've finished, the officiant turns to matt. "matthew, you may now say your vows."

he breathes in, before looking down at your entangled hands, and back up to your eyes. "i guess, i don't really have much to say." he laughs lightly.

"all of my love for you has melded so deeply into your brain, that you could probably trace every word i say right now back to something previous.

"i knew i left to soon, but i had no choice, really. but all i could do was pray and hope and pray again that that wasn't goodbye. i knew that i'd forever remember your name until we met again. and we did. and i am forever grateful-" he pauses, choking back on a sob. lifting a hand away to wipe at his eyes. "i am forever grateful to know that i am the one you love." he gives you his brightest grin, though flooded with tears, and whispers: "thank you, love."

you tried as hard as you could not to fall into his arms and wipe away his tears. you managed to keep yours hidden under your lashes, reminding yourself how long it took to do your makeup. lightly giggling to yourself about your stupid problem.

the officiant lets your vows resonate in the air for a second longer, before turning to matt.

"do you matthew sturniolo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?"

matt smiles, "i do."

turning to you, the officiant repeats what he said but about matt.

"i do," you smile. your cheeks undeniably hurt from how much you were smiling. you couldn't do anything to help your growing contentment.

the officiant explains the ring exchange, and then chris' son walks up cautiously with your wedding rings on a black velvety pillow. he comes up to you very slowly, doing his best not to lose a ring like he had probably seen in a movie, and was now worrying that it would happen to him.

leaning down, matt smiles before picking up your ring. "thank you jamie," he giggled.

"with this ring," matt smiles, gently lifting up your hand, "i thee wed and pledge you my love now, and forever." he lightly slides the ring onto your previously bare finger. sealing his love for you forever. he lightly grazes his thumb over the back of your hand, sending even more butterflies through your body.

you smile and pick up matts ring from the pillow. "thank you, buddy." jamie beams brightly up to you before skipping back to his seat. plopping down next to his sister, in between his parents.

turning back to matt, you pick up his hand. "with this ring, i thee wed and pledge you my love," you slide the ring onto his ring finger, "now, and forever."

"by the authority vested in me by the state of massachusetts," you turn to look to the officiant, who opens his arms wide, smiling at the both of you. "i now pronounce you, husband, and wife. you may now kiss the bride."

you barely have time to meet matts eyes before hes already leaning into you, kissing you gently.

you smile lightly into the kiss as you hear people clapping. and especially, the keys on the piano playing the intro to taylor swifts enchanted, per matts request.

pulling back, you smile brightly to matt. "i love you." you giggle.

"i love you, wife." he smirks.

you playfully roll your eyes before leaning back in and quickly pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "i love you, husband."

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @oneirophobic @20nugs @gracietaylorsversions @fenoy7 @mlimmm @prettysturniolo @ssturniolo @gabbylovesreading @oh-toseewithoutmy-eyes @matthewmurdockswife

[sirwow]

Oo you like reading oo.. in addition of posting wraiths call intro I give you all the current pikmin character summaries I have with it tehe

Alt text under the cut for those who dont wanna zoom in on the images

Olimar

A Father of 2 and a reserved average man. Grew up in a relatively uneventful life but with a constant want to escape to the stars and see the unknown. His parents, while passable, admittedly instilled early ideals of how a good family should be and often normalized their fighting that seemed a bit more then most families but nothing he couldn’t get through. Jumped jobs after failing to pass biology in college and ended up staying at hocotate freight for 15 years. Eventually quit when pushed to his limits of risking his life.

Louie

A young, quiet and usually estranged guy with dreams of being a cook. Growing up he was immediately dumped with his nana as his father had him by accident and neither him or his GF really wanted to raise a kid as they were busy enjoying the prime of their life after highschool. Nana didn’t mind raising another darling but admittedly had some of her own issues that lead to some strange or sometimes even cruel ways of raising Louie. If he didnt help with something or caused trouble, he’d be locked outside to let off steam but often ended up walking off into the hill side for sometimes days at end. He only saw his father when he came by for more money from his dad. Hocotate freight was his 6th job after dropping out of highschool and the only one he held for awhile till quiting when he actually really did need money and was getting stiffed.

Koppites

Alph

An engineer fresh out of college now working with his best friend to try and make tech to solve the food crisis n help his family. Alph was born the second youngest in his family and though never being close to his parents, was very close with his two eldest siblings and studying under his grandfather Drake w/ Yorke. Upon his recommendation from Yorke and Drake, the capital of Koppai’s top college accepted him to get his bachelors. After 2 years he meets Brittany in a Bioengineering class and become fast friends. He starts to drive her to college and they get each other drinks. After graduating together they’re selected to be the assistants to a possibly world saving mission.

Brittany

A botanist with a hope to solve the world’s food issue with her best friend but finding herself constantly stone walled by officials. Brittany once lived the high life in Koppai with her well off mother, safe from the world’s famine. Unfortunately her mother fell horribly ill when she began college and passed shortly after, leaving Brittany to move in with her Aunt Bea and cousin Nelle. She had to grow used to her new life in a much lower end of the city and deal with her grief, being relatively lonely for the next 2 years. This is until she met Alph in college and found his willingness to push on despite his situation inspiring and became friends with him. Often calling him late at night to vent or meeting up on the beach at 10 pm to hang out. Eventually after graduation she was selected to be a team botanist on an incredibly important adventure

Charlie

A lonesome ranger with lots of fame for his adventures but little to show in friendships or any kind of companionship past his pet duck. Growing up an orphan, Charlie always yearned for love and found it In his orphan mate Don. Growing up they were best friends and the local trouble makers but with time and joining a government program together they turned from friends to something more. Together they became known as an unstoppable duo across koppai and eventually did several odd job government missions with Yorke and Nelle as their crew. Upon their 5th anniversary though, Don proposed to Charlie and his nervousness about their dangerous job got the better of him, saying no. Afterwards he couldn’t bear the broken heart eyes of Don, ghosting him for 2 weeks straight. When Don finally did catch him they had a massive blow out and broke up. Charlie continued his job as a ranger but now was completely alone for most all his missions. This was until he was asked to go on a important mission to a relatively unknown planet to save the world and the government officials wanted him to get to know his crew that would be coming with him.

minor chars

Penelope

A stay at home mother and avid jewelry maker. Though her husband Olimar is always away she does her best to take care of their kids despite feeling a bit neglected herself. As such she usually finds her own solace in small time jewelry making whenever she’s alone at home with nothing else to do. Due to a past with a mother chastising her and saying she’d never get some things in life, Penelope can make very impulsive choices when she feels she has an opportunity. This helped her meet and marry Olimar but also making some much more horrible decisions when finding his hidden stash of money. Olimar raked her across the coals for this once he got home n now she gives all her money she makes from jewelry back to him to repay slowly. She still suffers from impulsive behavior but in a better light like buying their kids nice things or taking olimar out as much as she can.

Terry

The first child of Olimar and a lover of creatures and the unknown. Terry has always had a fascination with creatures since he was 7 (as long as he doesn’t have to touch them) and since his dad’s adventures to pnf-404 he’s been longing to see it for himself. When his dad switched jobs though, their family had to make a move from Hocotate to Giya meaning a new home and new school for Terry. Terry had a friend group on Hocotate but now he’s become the punching bag for his love of biology and science. Things only felt worse after his dad left again for his mission so in a fit of spite (and stupidity) he decides to just sneak out on a taxi to see PNF-404 and surprise his dad. This to say the least did not go to plan

Lebe

The 2nd child of Olimar and princess of the house hold. Lebe being young and quick to please has always being the more social of Olimar’s kids. She was quick to forgive their mother aswell but her need to be perfect still remains after. She never liked hocotate’s small town she grew up in and has been in love with Giya since she set foot on their new home. Lebe became a popular new girl in class in contrast to her bullied brother but she thought it was just a older boy thing. This was until Terry left for school one morning with Lebe and disappeared from school and home after dropping her off. Lebe did her best to act brave in the situation like her mother but she can’t help but be scared for her brother.

Bulbie

Once when Terry and Olimar were walking home from school on Hocotate, a soft whimpering sound caught Terrys attention and dragged his dad to the bushes. Inside was a small pup only a few weeks old who seemed like the runt of the litter. Terry easily convinced his dad (as a dog person) to take the dog home to take care of. Penelope was already tired from having another kid to handle so she was pretty resistant about having a dog to worry about aswell but it slowly grew on her until she agree with Olimar to adopt the dog. Olimar named him Bulbie after the Bulbs (Hocotate version of a mushroom) like pattern on his back n has been a loving part of the family since.

[cherries4yungi]

DRUNK CONFESSIONS - K.HONGJOONG

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

pairing ✩ caring!hongjoong x afab!reader

summary ✩ you and hongjoong are friends, but sometimes being drunk isn't helpful..

content ✩ fluff, angst

word count ✩ 676

warnings ✩ very very slight angst, mostly fluff, mullet!hongjoong (yes this is a warning)

tags ✩ alcohol, drunk confessions, kissing random guy

notes ✩ hello! this is my first time posting something like this so please enjoy!! i might make a part 2 if people like this!!

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

You and Hongjoong have always been friends, from college to now as an adult, Hongjoong is a music producer and like him you also have your own job. You get along, You don't know how you feel about him, you go out with him to parties and clubs and he always carries you back home drunk but today it was crossing the line.

You and him were in a club and you were kissing a guy you "met" today, without even knowing his name, you were there kissing him, but Hongjoong saw that you were drunk and pulled you towards him without warning, took you to the car and drove to his house and he seemed very angry.

"Tell me what you're doing on the other side… And tell, just tell me what you're doing with that other guy…" He said as he looked away and ran his hand through his orange hair as he sighed and placed his hands against the couch.

You looked at him confused.

"W-what..?" you hiccupped, you were so drunk you had no idea what was going on.

He looked at you as you hiccupped and chuckled slightly, at least you were still conscious because of the alcohol you had drunk, he was slightly relieved at that but annoyed.

"You are so drunk, how could you kiss some guy you didn't even know?.."

"Oh.. I thought it was you.." you hiccupped. "I wondered why he was so tall.."

He looked at you as he heard you hiccup while he raised an eyebrow and was surprised that you thought it was him, he frowned.

"I knew you were drunk but wow.. you are such an idiot when you're drunk."

"Is it really that bad I wanna kiss my best friend..?" You mumbled and groaned feeling a bit sick from the alcohol.

Upon hearing those words, his cheeks flushed completely red as he widened his eyes and had a surprised look on his face as he blushed and looked away.

"H-huh? Best friend? Wait wait wait wait! Don't tell me you're confessing to me? You idiot, why do you have to do it when you're drunk..!" he said as he sighed and shook his head in disbelief..

The worst part was you probably wouldn't even remember any of this in the morning...

Hongjoong sighed and looked at you as you were on the verge of falling asleep before carrying you bridal style into his bedroom and setting you on the bed.

He sat on the edge of the bed and ran a hand through his hair trying to process what you had said in his drunken state before his eyes widened and looked down at you with a frown.

"I can't believe you're telling me all of this while you're drunk.." He whispered to himself.

"Please don't tell Hongjoong.. I really do love him… and I don't wanna lose him.." You was so drunk you didn't even realize you were talking to Hongjoong.

He couldn't help but feel his heart racing as he blushed even more and widened his eyes when he heard what you said, his hands clutched the edge of the bed as he was trying to contain his feelings to not just kiss you as you slept.

"Y-Y/n? Oh come on…" he mumbled as he facepalmed himself and looked at you who was on the verge of passing out on his bed.

You passed out snoring softly in Hongjoong's bed mere seconds later.

Hongjoong watched as you instantly fell asleep and he sat there for a few seconds before he sighed in exasperation and covered his face with his hands.

He got up and went downstairs to grab some water and painkillers for you for the next morning when you wake up with a headache.

He was about to go back upstairs when suddenly he stopped and thought about what you had said, "Why did you have to say that when you're drunk…" he muttered to himself as he looked at his reflection in the mirror before shaking his head.