#anyways it was really nice to talk to you these past weeks! and i really hope you have the best christmas ever and also when i got assigned

[gothicfied]

Kang No-eul / Guard 011 Headcanons

Pairing: Kang No-eul / Guard 011 x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking/alcohol, other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Working that shitty job as a costume performer at your local amusement park was hard enough, and the money problems that plagued your every thought were making the situation worse. Most of your co-workers would go out for dinner together after your shift, basically only to drink their problems away and forget about this hell for a night. The only one who'd also stay behind like you was No-eul. You didn't know much about her, as she'd be super secretive about her life, but you at least knew she was a nice person.

જ⁀➴ One time after work it was literally pouring outside, and since you didn't own a car or an umbrella apparently, she offered to take you home with her. You guys hurried over her car and got in as soon as possible and only then you noticed that it seemed like she was living in here. Looking at No-eul, you could tell that she was slightly embarrassed, so you didn't bother mention it or asking about it — Instead, you thanked her a thousand times and more for taking you home.

જ⁀➴ From then on, she'd drive you home one or two times a week so you wouldn't have to take public transportation. At one point, you invited No-eul in, offering to cook dinner as a thank you to her. After a few times it became a regular thing and she actually seemed like she was enjoying it, a smile replacing her usual stoic expression. You also never quite understood how she was so good at her job, entertaining the kids and all, when she was the complete opposite when taking the heavy costume off.

જ⁀➴ She'd help you out in the kitchen sometimes, often catching herself staring at some old childhood pictures of you that you hung up on the refrigerator.

"Oh, that one is cute." No-eul mumbled, pointing at a picture taken at one of your school's dance recitals when you were quite young. "Huh? Oh yeah," you turned around to the picture she was pointing at chuckling a bit, "I was like what? Maybe three? Four? It's one of my mom's favorite pictures, though." You didn't get a reponse back. When you turned around again, No-eul was still staring at it almost longingly.

જ⁀➴ Back at work, you were the only person she'd talk with during the breaks. Some of your co-workers would ask you how you gained her trust like that, since No-eul didn't even speak to them directly at all. You'd just shrug, not knowing how to answer them. Perhaps it was a bit strange how much she seemed to like you, but you certainly weren't complaining.

જ⁀➴ After some time, she'd open up to you about some of the things in her past and she explained her reason for living in her car with that she simply didn't have the money for an apartment. Apparently, she urgently needed it for something else, but she wouldn't tell you more about it. Just the fact No-eul was ready to share bits of her private life with you made your heart feel warm. You liked that she felt safe around you, and she did, too.

જ⁀➴ It got really late one night, so you offered her to sleep over at your place, since you probably owed her so much in gas money anyway. With a bit of hesitation, she'd accept, a genuine smile gracing her face. She was kind of forced to sleep in your bed as well, since your couch was just not big enough for one person to sleep on. No matter how much you apologized for that, No-eul would reassure you that this was more than fine and that she was really thankful you did this for her. She'd take your hand to squeeze it a couple of times to emphasize her words, even.

જ⁀➴ It felt like you two were teenage girls again, having a sleepover while you got ready for bed. No-eul showing you real emotions like happiness, excitement and gratefulness was so weird but also very appreciated by you. You never thought you'd come this close to her, shoulder on shoulder while laying together in your bed. Neither you or her minded it at all though and that was evident through the comfortable silence between you two. Not much had to be said in the moment for it to not be awkward.

જ⁀➴ When you woke up the morning after, No-eul was gone. You had figured that she'd probably be prone to do that, but you were still a bit baffled when finding the spot next to you cold and empty. She needed to get something done, that's at least what her text message said. This was typical No-eul, even if this was the first time this had happened.

જ⁀➴ No-eul wasn't able to get you out of her head. You were so irreducibly kind, soft spoken, pretty and just something that sge wasn't. Even back in the car she couldn't contain a smile when thinking about you, the conversations you had, your laugh, your face.. it wasn't like she didn't like it. She just wasn't used to this feeling at all ever since leaving her home years ago. But perhaps, just for you, she'd be ready to get used to it again.

[xmads-omensx]

Hi I'm new here so, Can a have something about Noah calming his girl down, when she has a anxiety crisis? Sorry if this is kind weird ou anyting, but sometimes a think about Noah to make me feel better about my anxiety. (Sorry for my english, it' mu secong language)

Word Count: 1,295

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, swearing, vague mentions of past trauma, comfort, crying

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @tosoundlessdarkistare @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request! It was actually quite therapeutic for me to write this since I have recently started struggling with panic attacks. I hope you enjoy!

Panic attacks were nothing new to me. In fact, it was quite rare for me to go any long length of time without having one.

Since meeting Noah, however, my anxiety had been somewhat better. I never really went out alone anymore, so I always had someone to distract me when my anxiety was getting bad. Panic attacks became a scarce occurrence which reduced more and more as our relationship progressed.

Granted, Noah had been taking a break from touring, so he was always just… there.

We hung out all of the time. In fact, it was odd if we weren’t together.

I loved that relationship that we had, but part of me felt guilty about it. Like I was depending on him.

Being near him made me feel at ease. Something that was taken away when he left for tour.

The first couple of days were manageable, but as time ticked by, my anxiety started to kick in again.

It wasn’t like I was having panic attacks left right and centre, but I felt more on edge. Going to supermarkets began to be the most stressful part of my week. I never interacted with people there anyway, so my anxiousness felt unnecessary.

 My stress levels increased the longer that Noah was away, and part of me felt guilty about it, which only made things worse.

I shouldn’t need to depend on Noah to keep my anxiety at bay,  I needed to learn how to deal with it on my own.

He called me every night and after every show to talk about our days and just  spend time together, which was the highlight of my day, but it was still hard being so far away from him. On top of that, our calls got shorter and shorter the more my anxiety took hold of me.

I became paranoid that he would leave me since the calls had been keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning, touring would be easier for him if he didn’t have a girlfriend waiting for him at home, and who would want to be with someone who can barely make it out of the house without freaking out.

In an attempt to break out of this crushing feeling, I invited Jesse out for lunch. We went to a beautiful café that was independently run by a lovely woman called Katie, who was hoping to add a small bookstore to the side of the café since many of her customers just came to the café to read.

Jesse’s ears perked up at the mention of this and he began to ask her questions about the books she liked, clearly flirting, but it was nice seeing him so enthusiastic about something like this. It put me at ease knowing that Jesse was the talkative one, therefore I wouldn’t have to do much other that sit and enjoy my iced tea and blueberry muffin, which were both absolutely divine.

I went to bed that night feeling peaceful, which was something that I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

Noah had called that night, but I was too tired to answer, so instead I sent him a simple text.

I’m too tired to call, but I can’t wait to hear from you tomorrow. I love you.

I awoke refreshed and well-rested which was a feeling that I welcomed with open arms.

My mind and body was freed from any stress or anxiety, which was a rare occurrence since Noah had been on tour.

Getting ready for the day felt even better. I took a long shower before doing my skincare, blow-drying my hair and putting on my makeup. I felt clean. I felt good. Fuck that, I felt amazing.

The only thing missing was a tall, tattooed man wrapping his arms around my waist as I went through the steps of my skincare routine and quizzing me on what each item did.

Shaking that thought from my head before it saddened me, I went about my day.

Jesse was sat on the sofa watching Star Wars whilst making awful lightsaber noises, making me laugh at him as I went to the kitchen to make myself a coffee.

“You got any plans today?” Jesse asked.

“Not really, I was thinking about going shopping. I need some new concealer so I was thinking about heading to Sephora.” I said with a shrug, sipping my warm coffee.

“Can I come?” He asked.

“Yeah of course.” I said with a smile.

Spending time with Jesse had really been my saving grace since Noah was away. He had rapidly become my partner in crime. So much so that we had made as many objects that we could in Noah and Jolly’s home studio upside down, simply because their reaction would be priceless.

“Yes!” Jesse exclaimed, making me laugh.

Once I had finished my coffee, the two of us set out to the shopping mall to spend way too much money, as we usually did.

Our little outing had gone excellently well until we were leaving Sephora.

A girl who looked about nineteen, bumped into me. Granted, it was completely my fault as I was so engrossed in conversation with Jesse that I didn’t see her coming at all.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.” She snarled.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry! It’s completely my fault, I wasn’t looking-“ I began to apologise.

“Save it. You’re Noah Sebastian’s girlfriend aren’t you?” She asked with a smirk.

Fuck.

The girl quickly took a photo of Jesse and I before walking away.

“Twitter is going to love it when I post this. Think of the cheating rumours!” She called over her shoulder with an evil smirk as she walked away.

My heart began to race.

Oh no.

Noah was away.

He would see the photos.

Oh shit he’s going to think I’ve actually cheated on him.

With his roommate and friend none the less.

Jesse didn’t say anything, but simply ushered me back to the car park and drove me home, completely ignoring the rest of the day that we had planned.

My body went into shut down.

My eyes stared in front of me.

My breathing quickened, making my chest hurt.

My heart raced.

Oh god.

I was having a panic attack.

I tried to calm myself down by playing Tetris on my phone. It usually helped take my mind off of it.

It didn’t work.

Before I knew it, I was curled up on Noah’s side of the bed with the lights off.

Jesse knew what to do if this happened since Noah had given him a brief crash course, but it wasn’t really helping.

I needed Noah.

Time flew by, or did it crawl by? I couldn’t tell.

Large hands stroked my hair. I could hear a heart beating.

Who was it?

The scent of Dior Sauvage began to fill my nostrils as I looked up and saw Noah’s angelic features looking down at me.

A lone tear escaped my eye as relief washed over me.

He was home.

“Don’t speak baby, just relax.” He whispered. “Jesse called and told me what happened. I was on my way home to see you anyway, so I don’t want you to worry about that. You’re safe. That girl’s post got deleted after Matt and Davis sassed her into deleting it.”

That made me laugh, which made Noah’s delicate smile widen.

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” He whispered.

No matter what happened in my life, Noah would always be my safe space. I felt calm in his arms. I felt at peace, which was becoming rare for me.

As long as I had Noah, I would be okay.

Because he had me.

No matter what.

[floral-hex]

woke up at 4am feeling the weight of my life crushing me, so I’ve been sitting out in my car for the last couple of hours because I just need. to. be. somewhere else.

[lilpuffyart]

*rubbing my hand evilly (?)* I got some really nice Godzilla and Mothra drawing and comic ideas and such with my au

[decembermoonskz]

update on flirty idiot that I may have a mini crush on bc I can

[darling-gemini]

I was momentarily considering stopping ghost au bc The Insecurities got me but then one of my regular commenters left a comment expressing excitement about reading this and last chapter and now I'm like. Well I can't deprive them of that!

[perilegs]

if someone has a crush on you how would you react? just as a hypothetical situation ha ha

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.

[exopelagic]

I am baking cake at midnight and it is going to kill me <3

[wonderthor]

your neighbor sukuna who lives in one of the apartments upstairs may be a rough and dangerous man, but he’s funny and nice to you, so you become friends anyway. you even develop a little crush on him, and when he calls you little pet names like sweetheart and doll, you start to think he might like you too. one night you decide to go out for drinks, and as he drinks more he lets out more about his past and you learn he is a little more dangerous than you thought. he talks about how he broke into people’s houses at night all the time to steal their things and when he finally did get caught and locked up, he had probably broke into over 200 people’s houses by then.

“that’s crazy, but you wouldn’t get that lucky with me though”

he sets his beer down, raising his eyebrow at you in question.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean that im a very light sleeper, always have been. and there’s no way you couldn’t break into my apartment without me knowing it.”

he picks his beer back up and takes a swig before looking back at you with a smirk.

“you sure about that?”

you confidentially smirk back at him.

“oh absolutely. i get woken up if the wind blows a little too hard against the window. i even woke up that one time i had a mouse in my apartment and i could hear it scurrying across the floor. i would definitely hear you open my door and walk around.”

sukuna taps his fingers against the bar counter with his head in his hands and his eyes still on you, thinking.

“how about we make a bet.”

“a bet? on what?”

“if i can get into your locked apartment and into your bedroom without waking you up, i win. if i do, you win.”

“and what do i get when i win?”

sukuna chuckles at that, almost like a villain’s laugh.

“i wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

you roll your eyes at him.

“oh please, you sound way to confident in your impossible chance at winning.”

he laughs at you again.

“i am. there’s a reason i was able to break in so many people’s houses while they were still in there without getting caught. it’s kind of my specialty.”

you take another sip of your drink and lean back.

“your specialty, huh? and you still haven’t mentioned what we get if we win.”

“what do you want?”

his tone caught you off guard for a second, getting deeper and more serious without you expecting it.

“u-um, i don’t know. you can pick.”

he smiles at you again, a devious smile this time as he leans in closer to you.

“if i win, i get to do whatever i want to you. if you win, you get to do whatever you want to me.”

time stops for a minute and you don’t realize that you’re just staring at him until after several seconds.

“what do you m-mean by that?”

he leans back to hold his beer and his playful demeanor is back.

“well according to you, you won’t have to worry about that, right?”

a couple of days went by and you were still on edge. you mentally slept with your eyes open and even kept your bedroom door cracked, just in case you really couldn’t hear him come in. even though you knew it was just a bet and a silly little game, you couldn’t stop your heart from pounding against your chest. maybe because you still didn’t really know what he said meant. and there was also the eerie feeling that you were essentially waiting for him to break into your apartment, like a real robber. like the robber he used to be. and even though you knew he wasn’t dangerous to you and wouldn’t hurt you, you were still admittedly a little scared. you truly didn’t know what to expect.

it had been a couple of weeks now and you were sure sukuna was fucking with you. whenever you saw him in passing, he was his normal playful and flirty self, and mentioning nothing of the bet. you were starting to think he was kidding, just making that up to scare you and mess with you. or you also thought he could have just forgotten, since he was drinking a little and couldn’t have forgotten all about it.

but little did you know that you were playing right into his hands. he was waiting on you to lose your edge, to slowly get comfortable enough again to slip into deep and dream-filled sleeps. that’s why you didn’t expect it, why you didn’t expect to lose.

when you woke up one night, you felt your heart fall out of your body and your eyes almost jump from their sockets. there he was, in your apartment, in your bedroom, on your bed, leaning over you on his hands and knees. when he saw that you were awake and too stunned to speak, he smirked and leaned in closer to you until his face was just inches from yours.

“guess i win, sweetheart.”

[plethorawrites]

Oh, I really, really like your recent blurb! Jason having a secret girlfriend/family is my favorite trope, but it is so hard to find!

Would you write about silly instances where Jason spots his family in public and tries to shuffle and guide you away without you noticing?

Ahh! I feel that validated in both my love of Jason and my love of the secret relationship trope! (This might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I hope you like it anyway!)

The first time it happened was a few weeks into your relationship, back When the two of you would meet for breakfast or brunch at the little cafe, a few blocks away from where you worked.

Jason Todd would always show up, yawning and exhausted from how tired he always was since he hadn't told you about his night job yet. But he was still on time, excited to see you even if he would go straight home and nap immediately afterwards.

The two of you would always spend more time talking getting to know one another than actually looking over the menu and ordering something to eat, but neither of you minded.

Then, one day, while he was looking away from you to hide the smile you had caused, he caught sight of Tim waiting in line to order a coffee.

Without really thinking about it, he grabbed both of your menus, propping them up and leaning over the table, trying to hide both your faces.

You frowned in confusion but leaned in too, until your faces were close together. "What are you doing?" You whispered.

"Nothing," he lied poorly, being his head over the top of a menu to see if his brother was still there and darting his head back down when Tim walked past the table. He let out a breath of relief, staring at you. "You look really pretty this close."

With an amused eye roll you leaned back in your chair, folding your arms and waiting for a better explanation. "You just wanted to talk really close for a moment?"

"Okay, fine," he sighed heavily. "I wanted to look at your freckles, alright? They're adorable. The ones on your nose are really cute."

It wasn't a lie, technically. He did love them. And you actually believed him, he thought. Or if you didn't, you didn't push the topic.

The next time you accidentally ran into somebody was at the mall, when you had dragged Jason along to help you look for a dress for a mystery date night he said nothing about, except for the fact that you had to wear something nice.

It was just his luck that you had picked the same store Stephanie happened to be shopping in as well. In most circumstances, she might not even notice him when they crossed paths in public, but in a woman's clothing store which was relatively empty, there was no way she wouldn't see him when she turned around.

Without warning, he tugged you away from rack you were looking at, pulling you into a cramped dressing room, locking it behind you.

"Wha-" You stared at him like he had lost his mind. "Why are we the dressing room?"

"How do women try stuff on when they can't turn around?" He countered, ignoring your question and planting his hand on the wall by your head to try to give himself more room in the tight space.

"It's typically not made for two people," you explained "Especially not 6'2 men."

He grinned a bit. "Do you like my height?" He asked, enjoying the proximity a bit more than he would admit.

Yes. Obviously. Who wouldn't? He towered over you. His arms could wrap around your entire body without even straining to cover more skin. Plus, he could reach the top shelf so you didn't have to climb on a chair.

But it was still too early in the relationship to tell him that.

"That's besides the point," you muttered. " Why are we in the dressing room?" You repeated.

"I just...always wanted to see a woman's dressing room," he told you, frowning at his own lie.

"Seriously?" You questioned. "You could have at least picked the big one at the end. And you didn't even let me pick anything to try on."

"Right, well..I figured we could try a different store," Jason explained, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "Nothing here would do you justice."

You huffed, finding it slightly amusing how foolish he was acting. But frankly, it wasn't terribly bad to be stuck in a tight space with him. So, you waited a moment longer before unlocking the stall.

You still had to find a dress.

Things were peaceful for a bit, you and Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more serious. Jason seemed to be growing stronger in your relationship and things began to get a little bit more intense.

He knew that eventually he'd have to tell his family about you, but the next time he saw one of his brothers in public, he couldn't help but shy away from the task of introducing you.

In his defense, Damian really wasn't the first sibling you would want to meet.

He'd taken you to a nature preserve, because you said you used to go all the time as a kid but stopped after getting older.

You were practically giddy, feeding the animals from your palm, scrunching your nose when their whiskers ticked you. Jason was enjoying it too, more so because of you than the animals.

But while he was mocking you for your squeals, he heard a familiar voice having a one sided conversation with a lemur.

He turned and there was Damian, having his biweekly visit to see the animals that Father wouldn't let him bring home.

Jason cursed internally, pulling you away from the animals, accidentally spilling the feed from your hand.

"Hey, I stillwanted to see the—"

"I'll bring you back, I promise," he said, cutting you off as he dragged you behind a tree.

You wiped off your hand on your jeans and tilted your head. "What is it?"

"I just think you've been giving the animals too much attention," Jason noted. "I feel left out."

"Oh, c'mon," you rolled your eyes.

"Really," he insisted. "You kissed a sloth and a goat but not me."

He pouted a bit and leaned back against the tree, still holding you arm, though loosening his grip before running his hand up and down your arm apologetically.

You sighed, glancing around briefly, not really taking notice of the small, angry child, yelling at some poor worker, before leaning up on your tip toes to kiss his lips very quickly. "Satisfied?"

He smiled softly. "No." He shook his head, pointing to the exit. "Can we leave?" He asked gently.

"Will you bring me back?"

Jason nodded immediately. "Whenever you want," he said.

You gave up and left with him.

Now, if you really thought about it, you could easily put two and two together, but really, the instances were so far apart that you didn't really question the strange behavior.

He had managed to be, for the most part, pretty subtle about pulling you away from his family whenever he encountered them, as few and far between as those moments were.

Like the time you were walking down the street while it was raining and he spotted Duke crossing the street towards your direction. Even though he knew you loved the rain and hated umbrellas, he still pulled his jacket off, covering your head.

"Jay, I told you, I'm fine," you assured him, trying to move it off of you.

"Yeah, but you'll catch a cold," he insisted, pulling even further over your head while blatantly stealing an umbrella from a small stand that was selling them.

He popped it open, covering his own face as you walked past Duke.

"I will not," you told him, finally tugging it off. You frowned, not feeling any rain on your skin. "Where the hell did the umbrella come from?"

"Uh- someone handed it to me," Jason muttered. "Nice man."

And even though he despised running into people he knew because it always put him on high alert, trying to figure out what to do or where to go to keep whoever they ran into from spotting them, sometimes, he actually rather enjoyed the chance to pull you away from the rest of the world.

For instance, when you insisted on going to a carnival, which he wasn't a big fan of at first, until you guys got there and he saw your eyes twinkling at all the lights.

Any thoughts of boredom were quickly drowned out by the sound of your screams on the scarier rides, when you'd reach for his hand. And he bought every single treat you so much as looked at— the funnel cakes, the fresh lemonade, the Carmel corn.

He was watching you pull fresh cotton candy from the stick it was spun around when out of the corner of his eye he caught his brother Dick, along with Wally walking across the fair grounds.

Jason was sure they wouldn't notice you with how far away they were, but he refused to take the chance. So, he interlocked your hands, tugging you into a nearby photo booth as you made a sound of confusion.

"Just thought we should grab a souvenir," he said, beating you to the punch before you could ask what he was doing.

"I'm still eating my cotton candy," You told him. "I should fix my hair too."

Jason got a devilish glint in his eye and ran his hand through your hair jostling it further as you screeched in disbelief. "I think it looks good like that," he admitted, staring at you now that it had a bit more volume.

You blew a loose strand from your face. "I can't believe you did that," you stated. "It's all disheveled."

He nodded, still thinking it looked beautiful. Sort of like how it was when you woke up next to him.

"C'mon," he urged, pulling you into his lap. "I like you this way." He threw a few quarters in the slot and before you knew it you had a strip of three pictures, none of which were appropriate to show to anyone.

A picture of him stealing your cotton candy, a picture of him nuzzling your neck while you scrunched your nose in the way that made his heart clench, and a picture of him tasting said cotton candy on your tongue.

So, maybe it was an over reaction to pull you away from the rest of his carnival when it was huge and chances were Dick never would have even seen you. But God, did he enjoy it.

Then, there were, of course, the far less subtle times which didn't end quite as well.

Like when you just so happened to be walking out of a movie at the same time Cassandra and Barbara were heading into one.

"I think the sequel might actually be better than the original," you told him, arms interlinked as you walked.

"Uh huh," he wasn't paying attention anymore after seeing his sister and Babs at the soda machine, filling up their drinks.

He couldn't exactly pull you into a different theater, especially since he didn't know which one they would be going into.

The next best option? Throwing the empty popcorn bucket over your head.

"Jay?!" You exclaimed.

"It's a discount thing," he muttered vaguely, grimacing at his own excuse. "Wear the bucket out and you get a free movie."

Okay, not the next best, probably. Maybe like...sixth best? Seventh at most.

He pulled you past them, keeping his hand on the top of the bucket to keep it in place while raising his hoodie and keeping on the 3D glasses from the movie until you were past them both.

Once you were, he pulled it off and you were...well, fuming. Rightfully so.

"What the hell was that?" You asked, a bit bitterly, not buying his excuse for a second. "I'm covered in popcorn butter.

He cleared his throat, kissing your greasy cheek and licking his lips tasting a salty popcorn and butter on your skin. "Tastes good, though," he mumbled.

You stormed out on him.

And then, when you chose to walk all the way back to your apartment in frustration, both with his actions and lies, he finally came clean.

"I just... don't want my family to mess anything up between us," he confessed, barely even looking at you.

Vulnerability wasn't his strongest asset, but he was trying. For you.

You washed your face off in the sink for the third time and still felt greasy. Even if you got it all off your face, you'd need a shower to get it out of your hair.

"Why couldn't you just tell me that?" You asked, still confused. It wasn't like you didn't already know who his family was.

"I just- I didn't want you to think I was hiding you," he muttered.

"Jason, you put a bowl of popcorn over my head so your sister wouldn't see me. That's hiding," you stated firmly.

"Yes but it's not hiding out of embarrassment!" He clarified. "My family can be a lot to handle and they might scare you off and they'd definitely mock me endlessly for being in love with you."

His eyes went wide. That...was an accident. He didn't mean to confess that.

You stared at him for a moment, blinking. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

"I uh- well that wasn't..." He cleared his throat. "Yeah," he finally agreed with a slight nod. "But you don't have to say it back or anything, I know I'm not the easiest person to love and it—"

You were already kissing him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. He was caught off guard, but it didn't take him long before he kissed you back, his hands finding your waist and steadying you both.

"You're stupidly easy to love," you told him, resting your forehead on his.

(+Bonus)

It was a quiet Friday night when the two of you were at a nice restaurant, celebrating a year of being together. The food was good, the music was soft and nice, and Jason was practically a drooling mess over you, like usual.

So much so, he didn't even notice when his father walked into the restaurant with a date of his own.

You did, though. And in keeping with the spirit of what had apparently been a pretty large part of your relationship, even without you knowing it, you slid out of the booth quickly grabbing his hand and pulling him from his chair.

"Hey, wait a second!" He exclaimed as you rushed him out of the restaurant before he got to finish his dessert. "We still have to pay."

"We'll come back tomorrow and pay," you assured him, pushing open the door, into the cold evening.

"What the hell was that about?" Jason asked once you were outside and seemingly slowed down.

You pointed towards the window. "Your dad," you muttered.

He could see Bruce sitting at a table across from Selina, his eyes scanning a menu while occasionally looking up, probably to compliment her or something.

He huffed. "Add that restaurant to the list of places we can't go," he mumbled, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. "It got cold outside," he simply said when you frowned in confusion.

You pulled on the nice jacket that matched his suit. "Thanks," you said, wrapping your arm around his, tugging him away from the restaurant. "C'mon, I'll buy some more dessert."

He hummed, and pressed a kiss against your head. "Alright," he agreed, letting you lead him away from the restaurant and down the street.

[sunrizef1]

Girl back home

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x wife!reader

Warnings: cursing (I think)

Authors note: this took forever, but now I can actually work on whiv now that I’ve finished this

Summary: Everyone keeps trying to set Logan up, but no one bothers to ask if he's already got a girl (surprise! he does!)

Word Count: 4.2k (jesus)

“What about her? she’s pretty,” Alex asks as he points at the five hundredth model to walk past the Williams garage that day.

If it hadn’t been his home race, Logan might have walked away an hour ago when Alex’s pointing started but instead, he stayed, choosing to endure Alex’s unrelenting matchmaking.

“No, Alex. I’ve already said no to about 50 other girls you’ve pointed out, what makes you think she’d be different,” Logan groans, his head leaning back to rest against the wall behind them.

Alex purses his lips, a frown on his face, “Why won’t you let me get you a girlfriend?”

Logan pauses to stare at the ceiling of the garage for a second before he turns his head to face the man next to him, “I don’t need a girlfriend.”

“Yeah sure man, I’ve seen you stare quietly at a wall by yourself more times than you’d probably admit. If that doesn’t scream “I need a girlfriend” then I don’t know what does,” Alex shrugs before turning back to face away from his friend, his hand coming back up to point at a pretty-faced blonde girl making her way past the garage, even smiling when she locks eyes with Logan, “Ooh what about her? She seems to like you!”

Logan just hums in response, his eyes closing as he leaves Alex to talk to himself.

In reality, Logan truly didn’t need a girlfriend. He had something even better, a wife. Who also happened to be you. You had met when you were kids and had been in love ever since. You liked to joke that it was love at first sight but every time you said it, Logan would wonder how much of a joke it really was.

You had been there for every step in his career, through the wins and the losses, through karting to Formula racing. So when he proposed after the end of the f3 season in 2020, no one close to you was really surprised.

You got married shortly after, neither one of you wanting a big, flashy wedding. Instead, the wedding was small but still nice, just some close friends and family in attendance. Even Oscar had been there and he made sure to reference the event to everyone who wouldn’t understand when around Logan. He loved to talk about the “party” Logan had in 2020 to the other drivers who, frankly, had no idea what he meant.

When he got his move to Formula One, you were over the moon for him. You didn’t worry about long-distance. You had made it work in the past and you both had total confidence in each other to make it work. You continued your degree in engineering and he continued his career in racing. You tried to make it to races when school would let you, which wasn’t often, and he was more than happy to fly you out when he could.

Logan genuinely loved you more than anything. With that being said, this meant that he did not have the time of day for anyone trying to set him up with the Instagram model of the week who had decided to visit a garage.

But at the same time, he also didn’t feel the pressure to share your marriage with anyone. He didn’t really know any of the other drivers very well and if they wanted to know more about him, they could ask. It’s just that no one ever did.

Except, it seems, when they wanted to set him up.

“Hey, Logan!” A British voice calls out to the American, whose head shoots up at the uncommon voice.

“What’s up, mate?” The blonde asks Lando, pocketing the phone where he had just been texting you to ask about your engineering final.

Lando grins and places a hand on the American's shoulder, raising his voice to be heard above the sounds of the paddock, “I was talking to Oscar and he mentioned something about your love life and something about you being lonely, I don’t really remember what he said but anyway, I’m talking to this girl and she has this friend who I think would be perfect for you.”

Logan’s face drops at the brunette's words, a frown replacing his smile, “I’m cool Lando, thanks though.”

Lando furrows his eyebrows, disbelief written on his features, “You sure, mate? She’s sooooo fine.”

Logan just nods his head in response, backing away from the McLaren driver slowly, “Yeah I’m sure Lando, you have fun thinking about your girlfriend’s friend though.”

Lando doesn’t seem to catch the diss as he just glances up and down at Logan before shaking his head and turning on his heel to head back to his garage. Logan sighs before taking his phone back out of his pocket to see another text from you. A grin breaks out on his face as he sees your name.

Logan hadn’t talked to very many of the drivers on the grid, often feeling on the outs of a lot of conversations. So he’s even more surprised to see Charles Leclerc making his way toward him at a club. A club he had only agreed to come to so he coule be Oscar's designated driver, by the way.

“Eyyy, it’s the American!” Charles says, the alcohol clearly present in his voice. The lights are too dimmed but if they were brighter, Logan would be able to see the lipstick smudges around his white collar.

“Hey, Charles,” Logan replies, scepticism laced in his voice. The Monegasque leans closer to him, the drink in his hand sloshing around in the cup.

“I have something to tell you,” Charles slurs a bit, leaning dangerously before a pretty brunette comes up and grabs him, based on her lipstick shade compared to Charles’ shirt, she had already been more than acquaintances with him before this conversation.

Logan glances at the pair before responding dryly, “Oh no.”

Charles grins before pointing back to where he had come from, a dark-haired girl sitting at the table, “That’s Natalie.”

“Navaeh,” the brunette pipes up to correct Charles as he nods in response.

“Yeah, Nivia. Anyway, she’s a friend of mine and she’s been eyeing you all night, thought you’d want her number.”

Logan rolls his eyes at the very clearly drunk couple in front of him, increasing his headache from the pounding EDM, “What an assumption there Charles. I’m actually good though.”

“What?” Charles asks, squinting to see the blonde under the club lights.

“No thanks,” Logan smiles tightly before moving to step around the couple and probably tell Oscar that either they were both leaving or Oscar was getting an Uber, “You guys have a good night though.”

The couple is already too busy sucking face to realize he’s left.

“I just don’t understand why they keep trying to set me up, I’m perfectly happy with you,” Logan complains to you over the phone a few nights later.

You were sat in your dorm, engineering work strewn across your desk and your roommate at a party somewhere. You were trying to get as much work done as possible before Logan came to Austin for the GP so you could spend the weekend with him.

“I mean, have you told them you’re married?” You ask, trying to stifle a yawn as your hand moves to write down the equation for the problem in front of you.

Logan shakes his head, the movement almost imperceptible through the small phone screen, “Nah, but it’s just that no one’s asked you know? I’m just waiting for someone to say “Hey Logan, you got a girl back home?” Before they try and set me up with some Instagram model they know.”

You smile softly as he talks, his hands moving to mess with his blond hair periodically. He eventually looks back to the screen once he’s done ranting and is met with your smiling face filling his phone screen, “What?”

“I love you,” you say warmly, your grin practically splitting your face.

Logan blushes before laughing and shaking his head to hide the redness on his face, “I love you too. I’ll see you next week yeah?”

You look down at the now-completed homework in front of you. Homework that could’ve taken about 2 fewer hours if you weren’t on call.

“Yeah I’m done with this. I’ll turn it into my professor tomorrow and after that I am free. When do you get in?” You ask, shuffling the papers together and sliding them into your bag before moving out of your chair and flopping onto your bunk, sleep clouding your eyes.

“Uhh,” Logan pauses, glancing at his suitcase. In reality, he was supposed to get in twenty two hours and six minutes from when he hung up the call, his flight leaving in three hours and arriving in Austin after a 16 hour flight and a 2 hour layover in DFW followed by an hour long flight to Austin. He would effectively be arriving about a week before any of the other drivers. Besides maybe Daniel. But he couldn’t say any of that. He wanted to surprise you, especially now that you had no work to do. So instead he just hums, “Next week I think.”

“That’s great, babe,” you yawn, a small smile on your lips at the idea of him being back with you again, “I can’t wait to see you.”

“Yeah?” Logan grins.

You hum, your eyes drifting closed slightly, “Yeah.”

Logan notices your less-than-awake state and finally decides to end the call, “Goodnight, I love you.”

You yawn again, your eyes fluttering shut, “Good morning Logan, I love you too.”

The call ends quickly after and Logan glances at the time, grinning when he sees the 8:24 am displayed on his phone screen. You’d both had to deal with the difference in time zones for so long, you probably had all the time zones memorized. Or at least you remembered enough to call out good morning instead of goodnight while he was in Qatar.

His flight touches down twenty-two hours later and the first thing he does is call you.

“Hey what's up?” It's about 10:30 in Austin and the only thing you were doing was picking up barbeque from this place on the edge of campus that your roommate had been raving about.

“Not much, just bored,” Logan replies, his eyes scanning the background of the face time call for where you could possibly be this late.

You glance down at your phone for a second to do the same, eyebrows furrowing, “Where are you? It looks dark.”

Logan glances around slightly before replying, “In a car,” he wasn't lying, he really was in a car. Just one that was ubering to your campus instead of one with his team in Qatar, “Where are you? It's like 10 pm over there.”

“Just picking up some food,” you reply, eyes looking over the moonlit sidewalk that threads through the well-kept grass that surrounds you.

“This late?”

You laugh, “I slept through dinner.”

Logan smiles before sliding forward slightly when the car stops, “Are you just going back to your dorm?”

You look around quickly, “Yeah it's like a quarter mile back though.” You tighten your grip on the bag in your hand, the plastic having started to slip. Maybe your Ugg slides hadn't been the best choice for this walk but you'd manage.

“Oh yeah I know where you are, I remember eating at that place last time I was there,” Logan pulls his suitcase out of the trunk and tips the driver, checking periodically to make sure you hadn't clocked him.

“Yeah yeah, really good stuff and the owner remembered me today, guess I've been there enough times,” You laugh, starting to move back in the direction of your dorm once again.

By the time you had stopped to readjust the bag of food and your shoes, Logan had already started to speedwalk in the direction of your dorm. As he walks he passes enough drunk college kids to fill the football stadium they had all visited so many times.

You're walking pretty slowly, enjoying the moonlight shining brightly on the campus. Your shoes definitely weren't making you any faster to be fair.

“You turn your assignment in?” Logan asks, hoping you don't notice his eyes darting around the campus in search of you.

You nod, reaching a hand up to rub at your sleepy eyes, “Yeah, he even gave me extra credit for turning it in so early.”

Logan nods absentmindedly and you raise an eyebrow as you watch him do it before his eyes lock on something and he abruptly ends the call, “I've got to go, love you!”

You stand staring at your phone with a confused look on your face for a moment, words dying on the tip of your tongue. Weird.

You shake your head before moving to walk again, Logan's weird actions at the forefront of your mind.

Before you can even take a step, someone calls out your name and you turn quickly to see Logan standing there with the biggest grin on his face.

You gasp and wrap him in a bone-crushing hug warmth spreading through you from his arms. You move to spread kisses all across his face and for a few minutes, you both just stand there, not having seen each other in a few months and taking the time to readjust.

“I missed you,” you mumble into his shoulder, unexpected tears starting to spring from your eyes.

He just sets you down before wrapping a hand around the side of your face, “I missed you too.”

You bring a sweater-clad hand up to wipe away a tear before grabbing the food in one hand and grabbing his hand in the other, starting to lead him back to your dorm.

He grabs his suitcase as you start moving, “Is your roommate here?”

“No, you know how she is. She'll be with her new boyfriend for a few weeks so we're fine,” you wave away his question as you walk toward the building a few hundred feet away.

He smiles in response, “Hope you got enough food for two.”

You just laugh joyously.

A week and a half later, you’re stood in the hotel room Logan’s team had provided him, the room much nicer than your cramped dorm room. You had spent the last 12 days exploring Austin with your husband, making up for the time spent away from each other.

You had accidentally slept through Logan’s departure for the morning, waking up to a text explaining that, with your busy class schedule, he wanted you to get as many days of sleeping in as possible but he had gotten you breakfast and it was currently sitting in the kitchen.

You smiled at the text, appreciating Logan’s thoughtfulness. In the kitchen was a coffee from your favourite coffee shop as well as a McGriddle from McDonalds, which, no doubt, hurt Logan to order considering he wasn’t allowed to eat them.

You quickly ate the food, texting Logan to thank him. He texts back surprisingly quickly, considering he was supposed to be in a meeting.

He filled you in on how his morning had gone before asking when you’d get to the paddock for the race. You replied that you’d be there soon, quickly sliding on a light jacket over your tank top and jean shorts, preparing for the Austin heat.

Considering you had never been in the COTA paddock before, you would rather be in any situation other than your current one. There were about three hours until the race and you had no idea where the Williams garage was. You had gotten in just fine but, for some reason, you couldn’t find the blue of the Williams employees anywhere.

Logan wasn’t answering his phone, which you expected considering he had already been reprimanded for being on his phone during a meeting once this morning. Now you were left by yourself, trying to navigate the busy paddock.

You were somehow in a sea of orange, eyebrows furrowed. You turn in a quick circle, eyes setting on a curly-haired man in an orange polo who you take a few quick steps towards, hoping he can help you with directions.

“Excuse me,” you call out to the man who turns around swiftly, eyes pulling across your figure before landing on your face.

“How can I help you, love?” The man replies, a British accent laced through his voice and a sharp grin on his rosy lips.

You glance around slightly, leaning away from the man’s hungry gaze, “Do you know where the Williams garage is?”

He nods his head but keeps his eyes locked on your face, his smirk unfaltering, “Yeah, yeah, it’s just down that way.”

He points to nowhere in particular, moving to lean against the wall you’re standing near, “What’s your name, darling?”

You have to hide the smirk that tries to escape you at the fact that this man clearly has no idea you were married and also clearly thought you’d be an easy girl to flirt with considering his unwavering confidence.

You tell him your name and a grin breaks out on his face, “Pretty name, I’m Lando.”

Ah, so this was Lando. You had only ever seen him with his helmet on and from what you heard from Logan, his current behaviour made perfect sense. Logan hadn’t talked a lot about the Brit but he had mentioned him a few times considering he was Oscars teammate.

You hum, glancing around amusedly around the garage. You and Lando talk for a few more moments before a shorter figure clasps a hand on his shoulder. You lock eyes with the newcomer, grinning when you see a familiar boy standing behind Lando.

"Hey Osc," You smile at the Aussie. Oscar glances sideways at Lando, eyes shifting across his face before they turn to you. You just smile sweetly at the man who reciprocates the grin back at you.

"Hey," Lando glances confusedly between the two of you at Oscar's response. When Lando's confusion goes on a bit too long, Oscar turns and swings an arm around your shoulder, effectively moving the both of you away from the still-confused McLaren driver.

"I assume you're looking for Williams, then?" Oscar asks, running his free hand through his hair which had already begun to stick to his forehead from the Austin heat.

You hum in affirmation, sliding your sunglasses down your nose as the two of you step into the sun to make your way to your husband's garage.

Oscar makes conversation as he pulls you along, talking to you about how his season had gone and also asking a lot of questions about your engineering classes.

“I’d do a video for you, shock all your classmates,” Oscar says when you tell him you had to do a presentation explaining the engineering behind a piece of machinery and you had chosen a Formula 1 car.

You laugh, shaking your head as you do, “Yeah? I'd take you up on that, but I have a driver who'd be much easier to get a video from.”

Oscar snorts, smiling as you reach the Williams garage, “Lando?”

You roll your eyes as the name leaves his lips, hitting the back of his head with the small bag in your hands, “Don't get me started on Lando. You know he tried to set Logan up with one of his friends?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows, “What?”

“Yeah, Lando said you told him Logan’s love life was lonely or something like that,” You reply, glancing around passively in search of your husband.

Oscar somehow manages to furrow his eyebrows even deeper, mouth opening and closing in disbelief, “That’s not what I said at all.”

“Tell him that.”

You both walk into the garage after that, you move to make conversation with Benny who’s sat to the side, surprise crossing his face as he sees you.

Oscar, though, spots Logan and makes his way to him quickly. He clasps a hand on the blonde's back who turns to face him with a grin, “What’s up Osc?”

“Lando was flirting with your wife,” Oscar states flatly, trying to push down the grin on his face.

Logan blinks a few times in an attempt to understand what the Aussie just said, “What- why?”

“Don’t think he knew she was your wife, mate.”

Logan rolls his eyes before turning around slightly to resume his conversation with his engineer. He stops mid-turn and swings back around to Oscar quickly, eyes wide, “My wife’s here?”

Oscar laughs at the American's face, stepping out of his line of sight so he can see you conversing with Benny.

Logan grins, sliding past the other boy to step toward you as quick as he can, wrapping his arms around you from behind. Oscar can’t hear what you two say to each other but he can see the love painting your faces as Logan plants a kiss on the top of your head. Benny smiles at the two of you, walking away to let you two talk.

As Oscar leaves the Williams garage, he briefly debates telling Lando you were married, especially to Logan, but he eventually decides not to. He’d figure it out eventually. Also might help to have him learn the hard way.

You sat in the garage for the entire race. But when Logan ends the race in eight, you’re jumping up happily to follow the Williams employee guiding you to where he’ll be.

The moment he’s done being weighed, he runs over to you, pulling his helmet off and unzipping his suit to his hips.

He grasps the side of your face, pulling you to him as he kisses you softly. He pulls away slightly and rests his forehead against yours, lifting a hand to grab the one you have against the side of his face, fingers brushing over your wedding ring.

“Thank you for being here. I love you.”

You can’t help the lovely laugh that escapes you, throwing your head back a bit to escape the heat rising on your cheeks, “I love you too, dork. I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles before leaning to catch you in another kiss.

Lando had finished the race in 4th. Not bad considering who had finished in front of him. He’d already talked to his team so he was now just roaming around, looking for someone to talk to.

He locks eyes on you and takes a few steps toward you before someone comes running past him. He looks over to see Logan grasping your face in his hands before pulling you down into a kiss.

He can’t help but stand in shock for a few moments although he can sense a couple people walking up next to him. He glances beside him to see Charles and Alex, both also staring at Logan in disbelief.

“What the hell?” Lando asks, to no one in particular. Luckily, or unfortunately, for him, someone has an answer.

“Are you lot staring at Logan and his wife?” Lando doesn’t look over to catch the amused look on Oscar’s face as he asks the question. But Alex does, and he furrows his eyebrows at the younger man.

“Sorry?” Alex asks the Aussie who just smiles and turns back to the couple, still smiling in each other's embrace.

Charles is the first one to notice anything and he smacks the other two on the head when he does, “They’re both wearing wedding rings.”

Alex blinks for a second, caught in the strange reality that he hadn’t noticed his teammate wearing a wedding ring the whole season. He pulls out his phone to go through old photos and low-and-behold, Logan’s wearing a ring in every single one.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando mumbles, running a hand through his damp curls, “I flirted with her.”

“Yeah,” Oscar nods, hands on his hips, “I probably wouldn’t talk to Logan for a while if I were you. Unless you want to find out how they do it in Florida.”

Lando gulps at the boy's words, of course, having no idea how they “do it” in Florida but only assuming he’d end up with a black eye. Oscar has to stifle a laugh, knowing Logan would most likely just laugh it off if Lando genuinely apologized. Not that Lando would.

Oscar's eyes drift across the trio of confused drivers, most likely all going through their memories of the times they had tried to set Logan up.

“You told me he was lonely,” Lando finally whines out, turning back to Oscar who shakes his head.

“I told you he was lonely because his girlfriend couldn’t make it to any of the races. If you would listen, you would’ve heard that part.”

Lando has no defence to that and turns his head back again to watch as Logan laughs at something you said, fingers intertwined together.

When the news spread across the paddock the next day, Logan received a lot of incredulous texts from drivers and employees alike, all shocked that he was in a relationship, let alone married.

Logan didn’t read any of them, he was too busy hanging out with you.

Except, of course, the message from Oscar that included three specific drivers all with their eyes wide as they stared at him and you.

——————————————————

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[floral-hex]

Somehow one of my old high school notebooks ended up at goodwill and not only did someone buy it, but they found my phone number and texted me 😬😬😬 which is… not cool, but also they turned out to be nice, so whatever, I guess

[moonstruckme]

I don’t know if you currently accept requests but if you do could you write something with Spence where reader isn’t really a touchy kind of person and the team goes out for drinks, r gets drunk and is super touchy with Spencer and he is so flustered but secretly loves it?

If not don’t worry about it<3

Thank you for requesting angel <3

cw: alcohol

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 759 words

“Dave,” Prentiss says firmly, “I’ve got it.” 

“No, you got it last time.” Rossi’s trying to put his credit card down on the tab the waiter left, but Prentiss blocks him with a hand. “Let me take this one.” 

“I don’t care which of them gets it,” you say near Spencer’s ear. “Just glad it’s not me.” He laughs. 

Luckily, you’re not loud enough for anyone to hear but him. You’ve become surprisingly mumbly after a few drinks, imparting your observations and witticisms to Spencer alone, your cheek on his shoulder. Surprisingly tactile, too. 

“What are you doing?” he asks as you trace the creases spanning the insides of his fingers. He doesn’t think you’re doing anything really, drunk enough to be susceptible to whims and mindless fiddling, but Spencer likes to hear you talk. 

You make a muted humming sound. “Reading your finger lines.”

“You mean my palm lines?” 

“No, I mean your finger ones. I’m inventing a new science.” 

Spencer smiles. The tip of your nose is touching the knit of his cardigan, he wonders if it itches. You might not notice, though, with the way you’re so concentrated on his hand. Your lashes shadow your eyes like heavy clouds. 

“You know,” says Spencer, “there’s been some disagreement among biologists about palm lines. They’re called palmar flexion creases, and while it’s largely agreed upon that they form before birth to allow freedom of movement without stretching the skin on our hands, some also think that certain lines can indicate certain medical conditions.” 

“Huh.” You trace your finger down to his palm. “So, sort of like telling the future.” 

“Well, modern medical practitioners can usually identify those conditions early after birth anyway—but sure, if you want to think about it that way.” 

“That’s okay, I’m not that invested in palm line science anyway.” 

You say it placidly, even though you’re not moving away, like nothing is really all that important so long as you’re touching him. The dim, orange bulbs of the lamps in the bar cast shadows under your lashes and in the dip of your cupid’s bow.

Your finger keeps moving absently, past Spencer’s wrist until you’re nudging up his shirtsleeve. “You have really nice forearms,” you murmur. 

Spencer’s skin prickles with a blush. He takes your hand away in an effort to deter you, but you only go along with the deviation, linking your fingers through his. He glances at Garcia, relieved when she’s not looking. Just last week, she’d asked Spencer and Morgan if you secretly didn’t like her. 

I tried to give her a hug, she’d said, pouting confusedly, and she went as stiff as a board. It was the worst rejection I’ve had since high school.

Morgan had laughed. Not everyone is as warm and fuzzy as you are, babygirl. Don’t take it personal. She’s just not the touchy type.

You feel for Spencer’s other hand under the table, seeking to add it to your collection. He gives it over to avoid a fuss. 

On the other end of the table, Rossi seems to have successfully paid the bill. 

“Okay.” He gets up with a sigh, grabbing his coat. “I will see you kids tomorrow.” 

“Bright and early,” JJ agrees with joking weariness. 

As your team starts to get up, say goodbye, and (in Garcia’s case) hurriedly slurp up the remainders of their drinks, Spencer gives your fingers a tentative squeeze. 

“Time to go,” he tells you. 

You sigh heavily, warm breath permeating his cardigan. “Okay. I guess.” 

Spencer’s not entirely sure where your reluctance is coming from—if he were you, he’d be eager for his bed—but you stand without complaint, immediately looping your arm through Spencer’s and leaning comfortably against his side. 

Morgan raises his eyebrows. “Need some help there, pretty boy?” 

“That’s okay.” It’s out before Spencer can think it through, and heat comes to his face when Morgan’s lips lift with a knowing grin. 

Thankfully, Hotch spares him any elaboration. “I can take her home.” He’s watching you severely, the way a strict parent looks at their teenager before reluctantly getting them ibuprofen and a glass of water for the next morning. “She can’t drive.” 

“That’s okay,” Spencer says again. “I can drive her.” 

Hotch’s face is impassive, but Spencer can tell he’s not overly surprised. “Are you sure? I live closer than you do.” 

“I’m sure.” Again, his face heats at what he knows his answer is revealing. But Spencer looks down at you, contented and half asleep against his side, and it’s worth it. “I don’t mind.”

[atlabeth]

unadulterated loathing (pt 3, finale)

pt 1 / pt 2

pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader

summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don't go as you imagine.

a/n: the final part!! this was meant to be a really short one shot to show my appreciation for jb and then it ended up becoming. 15000 words. so you know sometimes things happen. anyways i hope you enjoy lol i had a lot of fun writing these two

wc: 4.7k

warning(s): none really? i guess some minor angst w/ allusions to cheating but this is the resolution it's pretty much all fluff

You’d never been this nervous on your way to the library. 

Maybe it was because you were just on the edge of helping Fiyero cheat on his girlfriend, and said girlfriend showed up in the midst of said almost cheating. 

Yeah. It was probably that. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you, honest. It was almost exactly two weeks ago that you were a perfectly sane individual, more interested in making sure Fiyero didn’t ruin your life, and more importantly your grades—and now you couldn’t stop thinking about him. 

You exhaled slowly as you stopped outside the door. You were going to finish the project tonight, and then everything would be back to normal. You would be back to only caring about your grades, and Fiyero would go back to Galinda. 

You ran your hands down your uniform to straighten your top, as well as try to straighten out your thoughts. At least you were early—you’d have some time to try and be a normal person while you waited for Fiyero to show up. 

That is, until you walked into the library and immediately heard someone call your name. 

Your eyes snapped in the direction of the voice, and your breath hitched despite yourself when you saw it was Fiyero. You cringed against the dirty looks from various students as you hurried over to him, where he sat at your usual table. 

“Good of you to finally show up,” he said in mock disdain. “You know, we are partners, so it would be nice for you to put in the same amount of effort.” 

You huffed as he threw your words back at you. “Clever. You’re still not meant to be loud in a library.” 

Fiyero shrugged. “I’m sure they don’t mind.” 

“They very much do,” you said, taking your seat across from him. “And why are you so early?”

“I wanted to make sure we got our usual spot,” he said. “Very popular real estate, this table.” 

“Right,” you nodded. “Thank you, then.” 

“Of course.” Fiyero looked at the stack of books in your arms—you’d been carrying them around for the past two weeks. “I wasn’t sure if you would remember to get the books after.” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” you said wryly. “I remember everything.” 

“Of course,” he repeated, his lips twitching. “I went by the library after to get them, but sure enough, you already had.” 

“You went to get them?” 

“You were soaked to the bone. I figured you had more important things to do.” 

“If you’ve been listening at all lately, you would know that school is the most important thing to me.”

“Right.” Fiyero chuckled, but there was a different edge to it. “I trust you were able to get back safely?” 

“It’s just to my dorm. I was fine. Oh, and—” you opened your bag and pulled out Fiyero’s jacket, perfectly folded— “thank you for this. I washed and dried it, so you don’t have to worry about any of it.”

He smiled as he took it, choosing to set it down next to him rather than slip it back on. Honestly, you were thankful. You… really liked this stripped down look. “I’m glad it was useful.” 

“It was,” you nodded. “How was your talk with Galinda?” 

He sighed and shook his head. “It was nothing.” 

“Fiyero, it was very obviously something,” you said. “What did she say to you?” 

“I brought coffee like you asked,” he said instead. He pushed both cups over to you. 

“Fiyero—” 

“I got you two,” he continued. “Figured you would need them more than I do.” 

You held your tongue as you stared at him, and he stared right back. It was clear you weren’t going to get anything out of him about this—at least, not yet. 

So you nodded and took one of the cups. “Thank you. You’re probably right.” 

Fiyero smiled and nodded. Then his eyes lit up, and he pointed at you. “You said you knew why Dillamond paired us together.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You chuckled a bit and shrugged. “I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out sooner. He was hoping we would both mellow each other out.” 

He frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“All I really care about is school. I have big dreams and only one shot at them, so I refuse to slow down—I don’t know how to not stress about everything in my life, and it’s kinda killing me. You, on the other hand, don’t stress about anything. You dance through life without care—for your grades, what other people think about you, even the future, but because of it, people don’t ever see you for who you really are.” You tapped on the table between you. “We’re opposite ends of the spectrum. Doctor Dillamond wanted this project to help us meet in the middle—to influence each other for the better.”

“...Huh.” Fiyero leaned back and laughed. “So this was really just some kind of experiment?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you said wryly. “I think he just saw an opportunity and took it.” You gave him a look. “He was probably tired of you failing every test.” 

“And he was probably tired of you trying to take over his job,” Fiyero said in turn. 

“Oh, whatever,” you admonished with a smile. 

“Do you think it worked?”

“...I think so, yeah.” You gestured at him. “I couldn’t stand you at the beginning of all this. Now, I’d say we’re something close to friends.” 

“Something close to friends?” he asked in mock pain. “Not even the full thing?” 

“Give it another month.” 

“I don’t know,” Fiyero said offhandedly. “Wanting to hang out for another month sounds like something friends would do.” 

“Are you done?” you asked. 

“Never,” he said. “But I’ll put a temporary pause on it. Where are we at? How much work do we have left?” 

“We’ve got the whole paper written and I’ve proofread all of it—we just need to go through and rewrite some parts to make them stronger, and maybe add a little more substance in the middle. The sixth page is the weakest one.” 

“Makes sense,” he said. “It is the sixth page.” 

You huffed a laugh as you opened the folder you’d been keeping everything in and slid it over to the middle of the table. “Have you read the whole thing yet?” 

He shook his head, and your eyebrows rose. “Really? 

“Just the pages I wrote,” he said. “I’m sure yours are much better than mine.” 

“Then you read the whole essay while I go through my additions,” you said. “I could use some fresh eyes on it all—I’ve been staring at those words forever.” 

Fiyero nodded and took the stapled papers out of the folder. He met your eyes as he flipped the top page over. “Very nice title page.” 

“Thank you,” you said. “I took inspiration from the cover of a book Ilara wrote on Winkie languages, actually.” 

His eyebrows shot up. “Really?” 

You shrugged, biting back your smile as you turned back to your pages. “I thought it would be a nice touch.” 

You could see Fiyero’s smile out of your peripherals, and it almost made you forget about the questions gnawing at your skull. 

But now clearly wasn’t the time. So you pushed them away and did what you did best—ignored everything else in your life in favor of getting your schoolwork done. 

The time passed quickly enough that way. It took Fiyero a decent amount of time to read the entire paper—it didn’t help that he got distracted about twenty-five times and bothered you with questions each time, but his questions were at least related to the paper half the time, so you humored them. 

Two hours, both coffees, what felt like a thousand questions, and one exploded fountain pen later (thankfully not yours, though Fiyero somehow made the ink splatter on his undershirt look good)—

“I… think we’re actually done.” 

“Oz, I hope so,” Fiyero muttered. “This is the longest I’ve ever been in the library.” 

“These are rookie numbers,” you said wryly. “But yes, we’re done. We’ve got a really solid paper here, Fiyero.” You smiled. “And you helped with a good amount of it.” 

He puffed out his chest. “And you thought I would just ride your coattails the entire time.” 

“You thought that too,” you said. 

“I did,” he amended. “But it’s kind of impossible going against you.” 

You grinned. “I can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.” 

You stood up from the table and took some time to stretch. Your wrists and fingers hurt from writing, and your eyes were strained from reading so much of your own writing (and Fiyero’s) for so long, but none of it really bothered you. You finished your midterm the day before it was due, and you were immensely proud of it. Considering you were at odds—admittedly one-sided odds—with Fiyero at the beginning, it should have been branded a miracle. 

“I know I’ve said it a lot, but I truly don’t know how you do this,” Fiyero said. “This is the most I’ve used my brain in a long time, but this is how you live. Truly exhausting.” 

You smiled. “Maybe you can try and get better grades now.” 

“Oh, darling,” Fiyero chided, “who do you think I am?” 

You chuckled and shook your head. “It was worth a shot.” 

You began to gather all the books scattered about the table—you were usually organized when you did work, but you’d ended up making quite the mess—and Fiyero helped. The two of you dropped them in the returns and you cracked your knuckles. 

“I’m so glad I don’t have to keep carrying all those back and forth,” you said.

“I’m surprised you haven’t thrown out your back yet,” he remarked. “But now you’re done with books for a while, at least.” 

“Oh, hardly,” you remarked. “In fact, there’s a chemistry book I need to check out to help with my assignment coming up.” 

Fiyero frowned as he started following your quick pace back to the aisles. “Have you got another paper?” 

“Not yet,” you said, paying him no mind as you checked book bindings to keep yourself on the right track. He could hardly keep up with you. “I just want to study up on the method we’re going to be using so I know how to do it.” 

“Isn’t the point of class to learn how to do it?” he asked. 

“I’m just wasting time if I don’t already know what I’m doing,” you said. You made a triumphant noise as you realized you were in the right aisle, and you started moving down, eyes rapidly scanning last names on book spines. 

“You truly make no sense,” Fiyero murmured. 

“There it is!” you exclaimed. You took a particularly hefty book off the shelf and skimmed through the first couple of pages, nodding once you’d confirmed you had the right one. “Alright, now we can—”

“That’s one nasty bruise.” 

You looked up from the pages to see Fiyero much closer than before, his brows furrowed as he looked at your arm. 

Your attention fell to where he was focused on, and you shrugged. “I must’ve done it while I was getting out of the water. I’ve always bruised easily.” 

“Probably because you don’t take care of yourself,” he said wryly. He moved to take your arm, but he met your eyes first for permission. When you nodded, he placed one hand underneath to support it. “Does it hurt?” 

“Not anymore,” you said. “I told you, Fiyero—I’m fine.” 

“I know,” he sighed. “You always are; I’m beginning to realize that.” 

You shrugged, though you smiled inwardly. “It’s a virtue.” 

“I really am sorry that you fell into the water,” he said. “I feel like it’s my fault.” 

“It’s not your fault at all,” you said. If anything, it was your fault for going into complete panic mode at the slightest glimpse of Galinda. 

“Still, though,” he said. “I’m surprised you weren’t angrier.” 

“Well… All this time I’ve spent with you has made me realize I don’t need to take everything so seriously.” You gave him a sideways smile, trying to imitate that easy smile he always seemed to have in his back pocket. “Especially when I’ve already got everything worked out.” 

“I’m glad I could teach you something,” Fiyero said softly. “In return for all you taught me.” 

“I taught you how to write an essay, you taught me how to not be miserable all the time,” you said wryly. “Certainly equals.” 

“You came along with it,” he murmured. “That’s more valuable than anything.” 

Something hard pressed against your back, and you realized you’d backed up against the bookcases, Fiyero angled in a way that caged you in. You met his eyes, surprised to see he was already looking at you. 

His gaze drifted to your lips. He started to lean in, you doing the same without fully realizing it, as if the two of you were pulled by some invisible string. 

His eyes had already fluttered shut. You were inches from his lips—he was letting you take the first step at your own pace. 

And then you stopped. 

“You’re with Galinda,” you whispered. You couldn’t help it. 

Fiyero stopped, and he sighed before he opened his eyes. “Hardly.”

“You’re arm in arm everywhere you go,” you said. “She’s head over heels for you and everyone knows, most of all you. You saw how she reacted to the two of us down by the water today!”

“She thinks there’s so much more than there is,” he said. “I’ve been pulling away. If she hasn’t noticed—”

“Does she know that?” you asked. 

He stayed silent. 

“Fiyero, does she know that you think this little of your relationship?” 

“...No,” he admitted. “She’s not the best at taking hints.” 

“Then don’t make her take them. Tell her.” You shook your head, letting out a shaky sigh as you took a step back. “If— if you actually want this—want me—then you have to tell her. You have to end things with her.”

Fiyero reached out a hand as he said your name, and you shook your head once more. 

“Galinda doesn’t deserve to be strung along while you try to figure out how you feel,” you said. “And neither do I.”

“That’s not what this is,” he said. “I promise.”

“Promises mean nothing if they’re just words,” you said. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to get rid of the chill running down your spine. “You know what I want, Fiyero. If it’s not what you want, then—”

“What do you want?” he interrupted. 

“I—” the word stuck in your throat. Fiyero was so close you could feel his warmth, smell his scent—it threatened to overwhelm you in the most intoxicating way. 

“What?” Fiyero’s gaze didn’t waver. Oz, he wanted to kill you. He wanted to hear you say it.

“I want you,” you finally managed to get out. Something changed in his eyes, and you saw his throat bob. “But I need to know this is real.” 

Fiyero took your hand. “It is.” 

He pulled you closer to him, and it would have been the easiest thing in the world to fall into him and let him give you what you’d been fighting against. But you weren’t going to kiss him and make a fool of yourself just for him to go back to Galinda. 

“Then prove it,” you said. You took your hand back, and you pushed past him. Fiyero put up no resistance, and you still felt his eyes on you. 

“And when I do?” he spoke up. 

That stopped you in your tracks. You turned to meet his eyes, softer than you’d ever seen them. You looked down at the book in your hand, and you held it out to him. 

“Then meet in the library tomorrow to help me with my chemistry assignment.” 

Fiyero took the book and nodded. “I guess I’ve got even more to learn.”

-

You had a very rude awakening to your alarm clock the next morning. 

You hadn’t been able to sleep the whole night, your stupid, stupid words replaying in your head over and over again. Usually, when you couldn’t sleep you just worked on homework. But all of your homework was done, and you’d just finished your essay, so you had nothing to do but stare up at the ceiling. And stare up at the ceiling you did — you counted all the flowers and leaves on it at least fifteen times. 

It didn’t really help that Fiyero appeared in your dreams once you finally did manage to get some sleep, doing all sorts of lovely things to you. 

Cora was right. Against your better judgment, you liked Fiyero—just like everyone else liked Fiyero. 

All you had to hope was that he liked you too. 

It wasn’t absurd to think he did, was it? The man tugged at your strings constantly, but he stayed by your side the entire project despite your insults. He barely even glanced at Galinda when she confronted the two of you, and he offered his jacket in spite of all of it. 

He practically told you he liked you last night—Great Oz, he tried to kiss you. 

You overthought everything in your life, but you couldn’t overthink this. 

Could you?

God, men turned you into a disaster. There was a reason you avoided silly dalliances. 

You tried to push Fiyero out of your mind as much as possible as you got ready, but it wasn’t easy. You could, in fact, overthink this—and you very much were. 

You opened your door to go to the restrooms, but your door hit something. You frowned and crouched down, and you realized it was a book. Your chemistry book.

Your heart pounded as you picked it up. A strip of paper had been wedged in the middle, and when you pulled it out and smoothed the slip, you nearly dropped the book. 

You’re what I want. I just have to clear some things up. 

Meet me at Ozdust after dark. Wear your best. 

FT

Your heart fluttered despite yourself. 

Fiyero didn’t forget. You hadn’t scared him off with your declarations, with— with all your you. 

He didn’t forget. He chose you. 

He chose you. 

(You couldn’t overthink this.) 

((You were going to.))

Oh, Oz. 

How were you meant to go to your classes today?

-

You could have sworn you were shaking the entire way to Ozdust. 

This was just… not you. Sneaking off campus in the middle of the night, getting glitzed up to go dance, being with someone like Fiyero—it was so unfamiliar. You had to get Coralie to do your makeup and hair, and she squealed practically the entire time. For someone so smart, she really lost it when she was right. 

But you owed it to him to go through with it. After all, he wrote a ten page paper with you. You could do a little bit of dancing. 

You’d already started looking for him the moment you walked through the doors. You needed one thing to keep you afloat here. 

Thankfully, it didn’t take very long. You found Fiyero leaning up against a pillar, his arms crossed and gaze unfocused as his foot bounced up and down repeatedly. Warmth blossomed within your body just at the sight of him, which you were partly thankful for—your dress had you shivering. 

His head perked up as if he could sense your arrival, and it only took a few moments for him to find you in the crowd. The weight on his shoulders dissolved as he grinned and started to weave his way through the throngs of bodies to get to you. 

You couldn’t help but smile too when he reached you, something you’d never really seen before in his eyes as he met yours.

“You came,” Fiyero said.

“How could I not?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Very easily, I think. I saw about a hundred different scenarios where you didn’t show.” 

“Overthinking,” you said. “It looks like I’ve taught you a little too much.” 

Fiyero grinned and shook his head. “Never.” 

You lifted up the skirt of your dress, feeling your skin heat beneath his gaze. “What do you think?”

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “You always are— always have been. This just accentuates it.”

“You’re too kind.” You wrapped your arms around yourself on instinct, feeling awfully bare and insecure now that everything had settled a bit. “This… isn’t exactly my scene.” 

“That project wasn’t my scene and you got me through it well enough,” he responded. “This is my scene—so just trust me and let me take the lead.”

“Trust you?” you said with a sideways smile. “I’m not sure there are worse things.”

“Oh, believe me.” Fiyero held out his hand. “There are indeed.” 

Before you could doubt yourself, you took it. He walked you to the dance floor, and you cleared your throat. 

“Is this a bad time to say I don’t really dance?” 

“You’ll be fine,” Fiyero assured. “I’m an excellent lead.” 

He was indeed. You always thought that you had two left feet, but Fiyero made you feel like you actually knew what you were doing. Every time you thought you might step on his foot, he would take you into the next few steps and it would all be fine. Of course, his touch lit flames everywhere it went, but that was of no matter. He only made you weak in the knees. 

As you looked at Fiyero, your arms draped around his neck and his hands resting on your waist while you swayed together to a slower part of the song, you couldn’t help but ask. 

“How did you break it to her?” 

Fiyero sighed. “I was wondering when you were going to ask that.” 

“You can’t blame me,” you said. 

“No,” he agreed. He sighed again. “Very carefully. And I had to do it about three times, because she didn’t fully believe me the first two times.” 

You bit your lip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, don’t be. It was a long time coming. I care about her, but not in the way she does for me.” He gave you a wry smile. “That’s why I left the book at your door. I didn’t know how long it would take.” 

“And how long did it take?

“The better half of the day.”

You winced. “I hope she’s alright.”

“She will be,” he said. “Especially with someone like Elphaba by her side.”

“Good,” you said. “I… I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You didn’t,” Fiyero assured. “If anything, you kept her from further harm by bringing me to my senses.”

“I wasn’t sure if you had.” You let out a nervous laugh—all of this was such new territory that you felt like you were stumbling over every step. 

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to show,” Fiyero said in turn. “It’s the first time I’ve been nervous about a girl in a while.”

His smile was so genuine, with a touch of the anxiousness you felt over every little part of your life. It had to feel absurd for someone who never worried a day in their life. 

“Really?” you asked. “I make you nervous?”

Fiyero shrugged—he actually looked bashful, and it was the cutest thing in the world. “You’ve got that effect on me. Effortlessly, I might add.” 

“Flatterer,” you remarked, but you were grinning all the while. “You know, you have the same effect on me. I stressed out even more trying to figure out if you liked me or not. Or if I liked you.”

“You know how much I adore that beautiful brain of yours,” Fiyero said, “but we made it. There’s nothing for you to overthink here.” 

“Oh, I think you underestimate me,” you said wryly. “Right now, I’m mainly stressing out about my dress and my makeup and accidentally stepping on your foot. I’m also a little stressed about the strength of these pillars, and I’m already thinking about my next assignment in chemistry now that I’ve got my book back.” 

Fiyero laughed as he spun you around. “Let me try to lay some of those to rest then,” he said when he had you back in his arms. “You look absolutely stunning in your dress, and your makeup is  perfect. You’re not going to step on my foot, and if you do, you can blame it on me because I’m leading you. If any of these pillars collapse, I’ll save you as any prince worth his salt would. As for your chemistry assignment, we’ll just work together on it.” 

You leaned your head against his chest as you swayed together. “And just how much do you know about chemistry?” 

“If you’re talking about whatever it is going on between the two of us, then I consider myself an expert.” 

“Fiyero.” You tried to be stern, but you couldn’t help your smile. He just brought out a different side in you. 

“Oh, you’ll be fine. I know you will.” When he twirled you back around, he wore the same easy smile from when the two of you got paired together. Funny how you wanted to punch it off him then, and you want to kiss it off him now. “You got me to write an essay without me complaining the entire time. You can do anything.” 

“Oh, I know I can,” you said with a smile. “I don’t do all this because I doubt that I’ll succeed.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” he mused. 

“Really?”

“I just want you to know how amazing you are,” Fiyero said. “I’ll tell you every day if that’s what it takes.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that,” you murmured.

A new song started up and Fiyero guided you into a new dance. He was so sure of every step that it almost made you feel like you knew what you were doing as well. 

“You say you’re prepared for anything.” Fiyero’s voice was a sultry whisper as he led you around the floor, and your entire body ignited with his every word and touch. “What would you do if I kissed you?”

For a moment, all you could do was meet his lidded gaze. It dropped to your lips, and suddenly it was all you could imagine.

“I—” your throat bobbed as you swallowed, your mouth dry beyond belief, “—I would kiss you back.”

“Oh, darling,” he breathed, the hand he had on your waist drawing you closer, “that was all you needed to say.”

Fiyero dipped you, strong arms supporting you all the while as he leaned down to meet your lips. It was everything that you’d imagined and more, his plush lips enveloping yours as his scent filled your nose.

He took over all your senses. His scent, his lips on yours, his strong arms supporting you with ease, your fingers tangling in his hair. Were his arms not around you, you would have surely collapsed. You always thought people were exaggerating when they said they got weak in the knees—you didn’t think that anymore. 

Fiyero only let up an inch when he pulled away, still close enough for your noses to brush even as he brought you back up out of the dip. You closed your eyes and touched your forehead to his, and you heard his breath hitch the slightest bit. The ballroom was full of people, and yet he made you feel as if you were the only two in all of Oz. 

“You’re incredible,” you murmured. You felt like you could melt. 

“As are you.” Fiyero let out a breathy sigh. “I can’t believe I waited so long.” 

“I hope it was worth the wait.” 

“You’re worth everything and more,” he said softly. 

He leaned in and brushed his lips against yours again; once, twice, three times before he pulled back. He was nothing less than intoxicating. 

“We make a pretty good team,” he said with a sideways smile. “Don’t you agree?”

This time, spurred on by his encouragement, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. Fiyero kept you close with his hands on your waist, and you only pulled away when air became a necessity. You couldn’t help your stupid smile—it had been a long time since you’d felt this happy, and it was all because of the man in front of you. 

You couldn’t believe you ever thought you loathed him. 

“I do,” you murmured. “I really, really do.”

[luveline]

kbd —Steve helps an emotional you downstairs to sate some late night cravings. pregnant!reader, 1.3k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Steve stirs at the top of the bed to the sound of pinging springs. He rubs his eye, feels sleep free itself from his lashes as he pushes onto an elbow. 

“Honey?” he asks. 

You turn to him with a frown. “Sorry.” 

Steve doesn’t want you to be sorry, he was just figuring out which of his best girls it was moving around. He forces himself to sit up and turn on the lamp, unveiling the sight of you at the end of the bed in your maternity pyjamas, flowy blue fabric with white polka dots you’d bought to match Beth’s. 

“You need help?” he asks. 

You sound like you’re having a hard time breathing. “I’m trying to put my socks on.” 

“Yeah? You wanna go downstairs?” 

You always put your socks on before you go downstairs at night or in the early morning. The floors get cold no matter what you and he try to do to prevent it. He promises one day you’ll have enough money for heated floors. He’s not sure where he thinks that money is coming from. 

“I’m gonna go have some ice cream.” 

Your night time cravings lately are unstoppable. Steve pushes the sheets back and round the bed to the end, giving your face a short touch, and then getting down on his knees in front of you with his hands held out for your socks. He’d offer to go get it for you, but you’ll say no, he’s too tired. The only loophole he’s found for this is coming with you. 

You give him your socks and a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. You know what I say.” 

“Can’t sleep without me.” 

He bunches your sock up and rolls it over your toes and up past your heel, your ankle. He does it gently like he’s rolling them onto one of the kids’ feet, he can’t really help himself. He likes being gentle with you. You can’t see your toes, so you might as well have him be kind to them. 

“Can’t sleep without you,” he agrees, again bunching up the fabric of your sock to roll over your toes and heel. 

He tugs it up straight on your calf and leaves his hand there for a selfish squeeze. “There, now you’re ready. Want your robe too?” 

You frown suddenly, a familiar twist of your mouth and nose, eyebrows pinching down as your eyes fill with tears. He shakes his head at you before you can talk, his hand moving to your knee for sympathetic rubbing. “Don’t cry.” 

“You’re so nice to me.” 

“I love you,” he says, pushing himself up to stand and hug you. “Please don’t cry, Y/N, it’s just socks. I love putting your socks on for you.” 

“You treat me like a princess,” you say with a sniff. 

“You deserve it,” he promises. He wraps his arms around your head and neck, kissing your forehead with a loving sigh. “You do. Please don’t cry.” 

Once you start you can’t stop. Steve doesn’t mind calming you down, it’s not like it isn’t exactly what he signed up for, but getting upset is never good for the baby or your extremely stressed body. “Please,” he murmurs, “let’s go downstairs, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, voice thick with tears. 

Steve wraps you in a blanket and ushers you through the master bedroom door. Your pregnancy hormones are as off the charts as they’ve ever been, though last month you’d been quite snappy. This week you’re crying multiple times a day every day. Steve keeps waiting to run out of patience, but he has a good few kids, and you’re not doing anything wrong anyways. So what if you’re crying all the time? He can’t imagine how stressful it is to be that tired and heavy like this, or how many hormones are pumping through you at the moment. He got you pregnant. It’s his job to mitigate the symptoms to the best of his ability. 

You sit down at the table, knowing without asking that he’s going to get your ice cream. He grabs it from the freezer with your favourite spoon (not so big, not so little), and passes you both with a smile. 

“There, honey.” 

Before he met you, Steve wasn’t used to pet names. He’d say baby and babe, he was a player, then heartbroken, and they’d come out weird because he didn’t really mean them, or he didn’t get what they meant in the first place. He calls you honey and he feels at once like the husband he is but it’s more than that. You’re his honey. You deserve to know how much you mean to him with every sentence he says, and there’s no easier way to do that than to pester you with pet names. 

You use them just as much as he does. “Thanks, handsome.” 

“Do you want anything else?” 

Again, your frown, tears in your eyes as you peel the lid off of pint and pick up your spoon. “I’m fine,” you say tearily. 

Steve scoots a chair as close to yours as is physically possible and sits, his hand falling to your knee. He’d squeeze your thigh if it wasn’t impeded by the round hill of your bump, the biggest it’s ever been. From the start of next week onward you can expect to go into labour. Within the month, you’ll have had the baby. 

Steve can’t wait for it, and he’ll bet you can’t wait to be done. He says your name softly, giving the side of your leg a great massage, “Y/N, it’s okay.” 

“I know, I just love you,” you say through a mouthful of ice cream, the spoon still on your lips. 

“I love you too, honey, don’t worry about it.” 

“Do you want some?” 

He knows saying no won’t help. It’s probably four in the morning and he can’t imagine anything less appetising at the late hour, but he says, “Yeah. Just a little bit. I’m watching my figure.” 

You laugh, still full of tears, and scoop up some ice cream to feed him. When he’s had it, he presses forward for a kiss, to your delight. Steve doesn’t mean to brag, but he knows you well. Cheering you up is easy. He steals a second kiss just for him and beams at the reaction it invokes, breathless laughter that doesn’t fade as you scoop up another spoonful of ice cream. 

“How come the baby never wants something we can keep in the bedroom?” Steve asks. 

“She’s like her sisters.” 

“Yes she is,” Steve says, moving in for another squeeze of your leg. “Can’t wait to meet her.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder, ice cream dripping from your spoon. “She can’t wait to meet you, Steve. She’s kicking every time she hears your voice. I think she knows how good you are to me.” You clear your throat. “She can tell you’re the nicest guy ever.” 

He shushes you tenderly. “Come on, honey, no more crying. I’ll have to start being mean to you instead, nobody wants that, I don’t want that.” 

“Please don’t be mean to me.” 

Your hurt voice startles him. “I’m just kidding.” He kisses your temple. “You think I’d do that? I can’t do that to you, babe, I don’t want to.” 

He spends twenty minutes convincing you he was just kidding while you weep into his shoulder. 

Poor girl, he thinks sorrily.