#but so many lovely people have said lovely things about my fic i felt inspired

[chanranghaeys]

🎥 chemistry read

in which junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?) a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this. credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I���m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

[clurbclassics]

my interpretations of The Girls™ in my wip, with the help of some dodgy photoshop + pinterest ✨

charles (born charlotte, also known as charlie by some) leclerc, il predestinata, italian men would die for her, first female race winner in the turbo-hybrid era

lando (affectionately referred to as lands) norris, 'one of the boys', fiercely loyal (and equally stubborn), the next big thing™ at mclaren, e sports and dj-ing 4lyfe

george (born georgia, also called georgie but she hates it) russell, quintessentially british, continued the female f2 winner streak after charles, will fight for her beliefs, paris geller if she drove cars basically

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down.

Word count: less than 2K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: This fic was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts. Part II is already in the queue and will be posted on Friday, 10/11.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, Bucky the player, wild thoughts, kisses on the hand and the cheek. No sex!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

"Won't see it coming when it happens. But when it happens you're gonna feel it, let me tell you now."

Bucky always scoffed at Steve’s advice. He and Sam never understood his solitary bachelorhood and his one night stand lifestyle.

The truth was, he hadn’t met anyone who held his interest enough to warrant a second date, much less anything beyond one casual hookup. So, he never made promises that he couldn’t keep, and most women said they were down for that. 

Even if they were lying to themselves.

At 42, James Buchanan Barnes was too dedicated to his business, ostensibly as an art dealer, for a serious relationship. The truth was that he dealt in many things, and that was why his business needed so much attention. 

His life and everyone’s around him depended on it. 

Bucky Barnes wasn’t going to get caught slipping.

In love or in business.

—---

The first time you met James Buchanan Barnes, on what you thought would be a random Monday afternoon, he appraised you in a way that shook you to the core, those ocean blue eyes looking into your soul. You felt as if he were evaluating a piece of art as he gazed at you across his desk. 

You couldn’t know that he felt the exact same way. 

His eyes never strayed from your face as he shook your hand, but he’d noticed every bit of you as you entered his gallery, Rebirth. You were more stunning than any piece of art that he’d ever curated in the space.

While nothing like his normal type, you made Bucky feel as if he’d been so wrong about so much in his life the moment you entered his orbit. He had to get to know you to find what he’d been missing.

This afternoon you were a sight to behold and serving body. Although you were covered from neck to shin in an elegant sheath dress, the high, wrapped waist was giving all of your bounteous curves up to whoever glanced at you. And you had heads turning.

Steve, Sam, and even Natasha craned their necks to watch you as you entered Bucky’s office. And he could have sworn that Nat’s neck was at a 90 degree angle as she watched you leave her desk just outside his door.

You were fine as hell.

Bucky was entranced by dreams of handling your curves and making you smile at him forever.

As Bucky dreamed, you admired the man in front of you. Tall, dark, and handsome, Barnes wasn’t a young man, but the gray in his beard and the crinkles around his eyes made him that much more attractive. 

Even more attractive than in the paparazzi pics of him with various young models and actresses of the moment, waifs and ingénues with whom he was never photographed twice.

You just knew you were safe from any advances from him.

You thought.

“Enchanté, Ms. Y/LN. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Bucky lowered his head as he greeted you, a slight bow and extended his hand to his desk. You noticed the tattoo that started on his hand and seemed to go up his sleeve and went in the direction he pointed.

"You know, you are quite tenacious. I don’t take many meetings with potential buyers. But all of my people told me that I should.”

The silk of his voice, the unexpected tenor of it, and the way he took your hand made you shiver at the aura of experience that he gave off.

The word Daddy floated around in your mind for a moment until he invited you to sit.

You had to concentrate on the business at hand, that of negotiating for a piece of art for the Art and Culture Center in Brownsville, of which you were the director. The purchase was made possible by benefactors to commemorate a deceased Brownsville artist who became famous, then forgotten, during the Harlem Renaissance.

“You’ve made it past Ms. Romanoff, my gallerist, Mr. Wilson, my business manager, and Mr. Rogers, my gallery director, Ms. Y/LN. What makes you think that I’m going to give you a different answer? Letting that piece go for the price you’ve proposed is not a good business move.”

“You can’t afford to miss out on this opportunity, Mr. Barnes. Yes, you will be taking a loss on the artwork, but you will be on the ground floor of a major rediscovery. You will be known as one of the few who helped to resurrect the brilliance of the artist Howard Benson. You can be the Alice Walker to his Zora Neale Hurston.”

And that is when Bucky leaned back in his chair, astounded at your shrewd calculation.

“I love the way your mind works, Ms. Y/LN.”

You smiled and settled back into your chair, causing Bucky to shift in his chair. He wanted to be buried in you. He appraised and decided that he liked the pout that changed your lips almost as much as the smile that initially greeted him when he replied, “But that price is still unacceptable.”

You raised an adorable eyebrow at him and rose to the challenge that he lay at your feet ready to tangle with the inimitable James Barnes. The conversation stretched from early afternoon to dinner time, making you suspect that Barnes was drawing it out for some reason. You matched him, point for point, until it was dark. But he yielded no ground.

The conversation was intellectual foreplay: art history, sociology, american politics. And it was the most stimulated you’d been in a while. 

You could do this all night.

Your phone buzzed and you looked down. There were several text messages and emails lighting up your screen. You’d been in deep with Barnes for hours. It was after 6 pm. It seemed like only minutes. You noticed that it was only you and Bucky left in the gallery and rose to excuse yourself, albeit reluctantly.

“Oh! I’m sorry to keep you so long. I’m sure that you must have plans.”

You’d done your research and you knew that there was probably someone little more than half Barnes’ age waiting for him. When you searched social media, there was a sighting or spotted every month or so of Bucky and a young, beautiful woman.

You reached for your coat, but Bucky was behind you in seconds, taking it from you and helping you put it on. You shivered at his breath at your throat and his hands on your collarbone as he draped the lapels over your neck. His deep chuckle made your stomach flip. He saw right through you.

“No one is waiting for me but my cat, Alpine. How about you, Ms. YLN? Anyone waiting for you in Brownsville?”

“Not tonight. No.”

Why in the world were you doing the sultry whisper thing? This man didn’t want you. 

Did he?

You cleared your throat and you felt dizzy when you looked up and saw how close he was standing to you. Those eyes and the smile that graced his handsome face had you warm, but the way he licked his lips had you spiraling.

Bucky pushed down a mild sense of panic that someone might be expecting you some other night, but that was irrational. Competition never ever entered his mind when he talked to other women. 

What was happening here?

“Well I would consider myself extremely fortunate and would be honored if we could continue this conversation over dinner.”

—-

The way James Barnes turned your meeting into a dinner date had your head spinning, but the wonderful conversation and easy, light hearted banter eased your mind. As soon as the first course was served at your table at dinner at Bohemian, he agreed to your initial price.

From there, once the terms were settled, the conversation turned to more personal questions, each of you sharing the stories of your life in your town, his childhood in Romania, your childhood in Brooklyn, and lots of funny stories.

At one point early in the night, Bucky stopped you from calling him Mr. Barnes.

“Please. Call me James. Or you could call me Bucky. My Friends call me Bucky. For my middle name, Buchanan. Bucky is short for Buchanan.”

Bucky found himself rambling. He had not been this nervous in a while.

You looked at him quizzically. At that moment, he would give you anything you were about to ask of him.

“Do you have a lot of friends? I mean, do a lot of people call you Bucky?“

Godamn, the husk in your voice, those lips, those eyes. Everything about you was about to set him on fire.

“I have a few who are in my close circle. Natasha, Steve, Sam. They and a very few others call me Bucky. Most people I speak with call me Mr. Barnes...”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips, making Bucky feel it in his cock.

“Then I will call you James.”

He got your subtle meaning. You wanted to be different. 

And you were. So very different.

After almost five hours of the best conversation and laughter, he proposed another time for you two to meet before the week was up, on Friday. He had made it clear at dinner that now that business was concluded that he wanted to spend time with you.

Friday night would be a date, the second one at his insistence.

You debated that fact as his driver took you home, even up until he walked you to the door of your brownstone.

He leaned against your doorframe and checked you out as you retrieved your keys from your purse. When you turned and caught him looking, you gasped, causing him to straighten up and move toward you, eyes dilated.

“It will be our second date,” you conceded.

Bucky’s mouth curled into a smirk as he grabbed your hand and lifted it to his mouth. Your soul burned as he pressed his lips to your palm. It was like the hint of a drug in your veins and you wanted so much more.

“What made you change your mind?”

That voice. Did you have a voice kink? Good lord.

You flushed, both at the images that were racing through your mind, and at the arbitrary three date rule you’d made up a while ago. Why was that again?

You cleared your throat.

“Because of the way you are looking at me, James. And the fact that you just kissed me.”

“Is this a kiss?”

“Ummhmmmm.”

You hummed as Bucky raised his eyebrow and your hand again. This time, he brushed his lips against your wrist and inhaled the perfume lingering there. You were about to melt.

Bucky didn’t even know what he was doing. The next step in his mind was to open his mouth and consume you, but he opened his eyes and spied you looking at him in that way, and he knew he had to stop. He didn’t want this to be like all of his other conquests.

He straightened up, but didn’t let go of your hand, entangling your fingers together. 

“You are correct, Y/N. In my mind, this is a date. I am interested in you, for more than just your taste in art. I hope that this is the first date of many.”

You were bowled over at his straightforwardness. It was not what you were used to. This was a man, not a boy in mens clothing.

“I appreciate your honesty, James.”

You went on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering on the black and grey stubble so close to his lips. You turned around, giving him a view of your backside as you opened your door.

“And your ambition.”

You gave him that smile again with a wink, and your “Goodnight, James,” floated up to him on cloud nine.

——-

Let me know if you liked it!

Part II here.

[tkwrites]

Meet Me At The Mistletoe - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Video from @fallinallincurls

Title: Meet Me at the Mistletoe

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: Based on the song of the same name by Dave Barnes, Quinn and Sarah prepare for and host a team Christmas Party, including shopping on a very special but inconvenient day. 

Warnings: Grief. Talk of dead parents and honoring traditions. Some sex is alluded to, but nothing described. A tiny bit of praise kink stroking. 

Word Count: 8,000

Comments: I'm back with my first ever Christmas fic! I’ve been waiting to write a song based on Meet Me at the Mistletoe by Dave Barnes since I first heard it three or four years ago. It has such a great story and evokes a specific feeling I felt like Quinn and Sarah were especially suited for. When Cici from @thedevilrisen reached out to me about joining a Christmas fic event called Ho Ho Hockey, I knew this had to be the story I wrote for it. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. Sending all the love your way!

Meet Me at the Mistletoe 

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“Will you help me plan a Christmas party?” Quinn blurted, trying to catch his breath. 

“Hu?” Sarah asked, struggling to keep up with the abrupt change of subject.

 Upon getting home from work, she’d practically jumped him in the kitchen. They’d made it as far as the lucky couch before desire consumed them both. He’d been on a roadie for the past few days, and though he got back the evening before, she’d been asleep when he arrived, so they weren’t able to welcome each other home properly. 

Now, she lay beside him, wedged between the back of the couch - cushions had been tossed aside in their frenzy - and his body, feeling sated and satisfied as her head rested on his chest.

“I have to plan a Christmas party for the team,” he explained, knowing he couldn’t put it off anymore. Even though they still had a few months, he knew she would appreciate the advanced warning and that it would only make it easier if they started now.

“Why do you have to do it? I’d think that would be something the coaching staff would do.”

“It’s for players only. We have another one with coaches and staff. It's kind of tradition for the captain to plan it.”

Her lips pressed together, “I don’t know how much time I can dedicate to party planning in December. That’ll be right around finals.” She didn’t have as many traditional classes this semester, but there was still plenty to do. 

“That’s why I’m bringing it up now, and it doesn’t have to be huge,” he rushed to explain. “Last year, JT and Natalie just had people over for drinks, and we did a gift exchange.”

“You want to have it here?” 

“I thought it would be nice.” Now that Sarah was here, the apartment felt more homey and like the kind of place he wanted to show off. 

“So cocktails and gifts?” 

“Yeah, or whatever we want it to be. I think they had some food last year.”

“Okay,” she said. 

“So you can help me?” Quinn asked. 

“Yeah. I don’t know that I’ll have time to go to tastings or anything like that.”

“Tastings?” 

“For food?” 

He laughed, “I figured we’d just order from De Beppe and set up a cocktail bar.” 

“Oh,” it seemed like he didn’t even need her help. “That sounds nice and easy.”

His hand snuck down to cradle the curve of her bottom, “you know I don’t like to make things overly complicated.” 

“It’s just for adults?” she confirmed.

“It was last year,” he said. “Why? Do you want kids to come?”

She shrugged, “not necessarily. Just if they do, we’ll need to host it somewhere else. Our house isn’t really kid proofed.” 

When he didn’t respond, she glanced up to find him looking at her with a goofy smile on his face. 

“What?”

“You said our house.”

“Hu?” 

“You said our house,” he repeated. “Before you’ve always said your house,” he pointed to himself, “or the house.” 

“Oh.” 

Slipping his arms around her waist, he pulled her a little tighter against him, loving the feel of her soft curls as they crushed against his hip. “I’m just glad you’re feeling more at home.”

A pocket of calm silence enveloped them.

“We’ll need to decorate,” Sarah said after a few minutes. 

Quinn agreed. When he thought about hosting the party, the house was always decorated for Christmas, but he’d never thought about what it would take to get it into that state.

“We can figure that out later,” she murmured, laying her head back on his chest, allowing his steady heartbeat to lull her into the state of calm that always came over her when he was home.

They spent another hour there, snuggled up together, only moving when Quinn went fishing for a blanket and had to lean halfway off the couch to get it. 

They didn’t get up until Sarah’s stomach grumbled loudly. 

“Did you eat today?” Quinn asked, his tone accusing. 

“I had a smoothie for breakfast.”

“Sarah,” he admonished. She never ate as well when he wasn’t home. Not just in quality, in quantity.

“I know,” she said, looking down sheepishly. “I even had a salad in the fridge at work, I just got so caught up in stuff. I did eat a protein bar on my way home,” she remembered. 

Deciding he’d tackle the issue of her nutrition later, Quinn traced his fingers up the curve of her spine. “What should we have for dinner tonight?” he asked as he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable exit from their cozy cocoon.

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “I don’t care. Just feed me.”

He laughed. “You got it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll scrounge up something for us to eat.” 

Are you free November 9th?

When Quinn sent this message, she didn’t think anything of it. They were both so busy that it was normal to schedule things three weeks in advance. 

Yep, what's up that day?

Just wanna take you on a date before the game.

The purposeful vagueness and his wanting to do something on a game day raised her eyebrows. Game days were usually reserved for napping and chill time at home before he had to go to the rink. 

Okay. It's in my calendar. 

He hearted the message, and Sarah went back to work. 

Pick you up at 11 out front, okay?

Though it was a Saturday, and she was off, Quinn knew Sarah would be working on her thesis and he needed to catch her before she got too absorbed by it, no longer concerned with looking at her phone.

For what?

We have a date, remember?

Oh, right. She’d mostly forgotten about the whole exchange, despite looking in her planner that morning and finding (heart) Date (heart) written in the sparkly blue ink she used to denote all things Quinn related.  

What should I wear?

Usually, when he called something a date, it meant dinner out, but this was the middle of the day, and she knew it wouldn’t last terribly long.

Whatever - jeans are fine.

Now, she was really intrigued. Okay. See you then. 

Wondering what on earth he had planned in the middle of the day on a Saturday, on a Saturday game day, no less, Sarah went back to her studies. It was hard to focus, though. Quinn was definitely up to something. They were even playing the Oilers that evening. Something fishy was definitely going on. 

All the same, at 10:30, she changed out of her pajamas, pulled half of her hair up, and put on some makeup before walking down to the lobby. 

Quinn was right on time, parked right in front of the front door. 

“Thanks, Reece,” she said as he held the door open for her. 

“Have a good day, Ms. Roberts,” he said with a nod. 

She slid into the seat of Quinn’s posh new car. She’d learned by now that most players leased a new car at the beginning of every season. Instead of the Jeep, Quinn now had a sleek and luxurious new Porsche SUV. Most of her hated that it was so expensive when there were perfectly good, reliable options that were half the price. Each time she got in it, though, she had to admit: it was extremely comfortable, and the features really were something else. She found a small measure of comfort that at least it wasn’t some ridiculous sports car. 

“So, where are we headed?” she asked as he pulled back into traffic. 

“You’ll see,” he said with a little smile as he reached across the console for her hand. 

Although he had a destination programmed into the car's GPS, she wasn’t entirely sure how the thing worked and didn’t want to accidentally get them off course by fiddling with it. 

They went out of the city, which surprised her. He was bothering to take her to Richmond when they had to get back in time for the game? Not that the 30 minute drive was outrageous, but it seemed a luxury to her when they didn’t have all that much time to begin with.

“We needed to come all the way out to Richmond to go to Costco?”

“It’s the second Saturday of the month,” he said quietly, “and this one's bigger than the one by home. I’m sorry we couldn’t go tonight.” 

“Oh,” her breath hitched as his intention settled on her. She’d stopped mentally marking second Saturdays about a year after her dad died, so she hadn’t even known.

The hiss of his seatbelt retracting brought Sarah out of her daze, and she reached for him before he could get out of the car. 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling both a swell of gratitude as well as a tightening in her chest. 

He beamed, glad he’d pulled it off. “I’ve been trying to get here, but you were so busy with the start of the semester, and then I was out of town…” he trailed off. 

“This is really sweet, Quinn.” Holding his chin, she leaned over the center console to press her lips to his.

He’d wanted to set up this date since she’d told him about her family’s monthly Costco adventures. “Ready?” he asked, nodding toward the store. 

She took a deep breath, letting it sigh out before nodding, “yeah.” 

When she rounded the car and he took her hand, she tried to blink the tears from her eyes. 

“I haven’t been back here,” she said quietly, wanting to explain, just in case she burst into tears. That hadn’t happened for a while, but she could never quite rule it out, especially now that the ache of doing this with him, but without her dad, was freshly torn open. That, mixed with the gratitude she felt at his want to do this for her, especially on a game day, brought up a swirl of so many emotions. Quinn was so incredibly thoughtful. 

He stopped in his tracks, “is this your first time back since your dad died?” he asked. 

“No, I went with mom whenever she or I was visiting, and we all go whenever I’m in town,” she said, “I just don’t think I’ve been without my siblings since she died.”

“Are you okay? We don’t have to go.” He was such an idiot. He should have asked her about it instead of just springing this on her. 

“No, I want to go,” she assured, giving his hand a squeeze. “It just makes me a little nostalgic, that’s all.” 

Before they got to the doors. She tugged him back, “this is really thoughtful, Q.” Why hadn’t she said it before? “Thank you. I feel really cared for.”

The big, genuine smile that took over his face made her heart swell.  

“So what are we looking for?” she asked, grabbing a cart and following him inside. 

“I kind of thought…” he trailed off, lifting the cap off his head, trying to smooth his hair down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a mother turn her pointing little girl away.

“Hm?”

“I thought we could get some Christmas decorations. Like, obviously, we need a tree, but I didn’t know if you wanted a real one, or…” he trailed off. 

“Isn’t it a little early to be decorating for Christmas? I figured you were a strictly after Thanksgiving kinda guy.”

He laughed, “I mean, I am, but this was the only second Saturday I’m in town before January, so I figured we could shop and then decorate later.” 

A smile beamed over her face, and a sigh unknotted some of the anxiety coiling in his chest. They’d talked, well argued, a little about Christmas. He wanted her to come to Michigan with his family, but it was her siblings' year to be together, so she wanted them to go to Nevada. He was just about ready to fly everyone to Vancouver. It was their first Christmas together. He didn’t want to spend it apart, but he didn’t want either of them to miss out on time with their families. 

“I’ve never had a real tree,” she mused. 

“Really?” 

“My mom always said she hated the mess.” She paused for a moment, remembering, “well, I guess that’s not quite true. Trav and Trev had a real tree the year I lived with them, but it wasn't really my thing. I went back to Nevada in mid-December, so I didn’t help decorate or anything.”

“Okay, so we’ll get a real tree,” he agreed, glad to have that sorted. “You should get to experience it at least once.”

“Okay,” she agreed, a light coming into her face he usually associated with her while she was talking about her research.

The smile Quinn gave her in response - large and happy and indulgent - made her stomach flutter. 

“What do you think  the theme should be?” she asked.

“Hu?” 

“The theme,” she repeated, “like red, or blue or, like, snow?” 

“I don’t…know?”

“Is there anything you really like?” 

“I hate the flocking,” he said. 

“Not what I asked, but still helpful,” she said with a cheeky smile and a wink. 

Quinn felt himself blush. “I don’t know…I feel like I’m bad at this kind of stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff,” she asked, guiding them to the decor aisles. 

“Decorating and stuff.” 

She pshawed, waving her hand, “my mom always said if you like what you come up with, design is never bad. It might not be someone else's taste or style, but it’s not their house.” 

Right, her mom was an interior designer. 

“What do you like?” he asked, stopping to look at a display of dancing elves. They were sort of horrifyingly kitschy, but he couldn’t look away.

“I like classic things. Like red and green, or blue and white. Or, one year, my mom did this really pretty floral design. That doesn’t really match our vibe, though.”

“Did she design a new tree every year?” 

“Sometimes. It all depended on what set her off. She’d sometimes find something like a tartan ribbon, and she’d spin a whole design off of that. We had another little tree in our basement that all of our homemade ornaments went on. We always put presents under that one.” 

“Do you want two?” 

“Trees?” 

“Yeah, one upstairs and one downstairs.”

“Do you?”

He shrugged. “We could put one by the lucky couch.” 

The lucky couch being the suede couch. She’d jokingly called it that after their escapades when the Canucks clinched into the playoffs, “I feel like all I do on this couch is get lucky,” and the name had stuck.  

“Do you want that?” she asked now, looking at him seriously. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what that would be like. Ultimately, he shrugged, “wouldn’t hurt.” 

She laughed a little. “How about we sort the theme first?” 

He nodded, glad that she had some kind of a plan. 

“Why don’t we split up for a minute? We’ll each find a few things we like, and hopefully, a theme will come out of that.” It was something her mom often did when working with clients. It brought out shared styles. 

“Okay.” 

Sarah wandered off with the cart, heart so full she felt like it might just push into her mouth. 

After five minutes, when Quinn didn't come back, she went looking for him. She found him on one of the fringe aisles, locked in a conversation with a star struck fan. 

He glanced up when she rounded the corner. 

When it became obvious that the person currently holding his attention wouldn't let up anytime soon, he waited for them to finish their thought about the upcoming game and then started to excuse himself. “It was nice talking with you, but I need to be going.” 

“Oh,” the guy seemed to remember they were standing in Costco, “of course. Thanks for chatting, man.” 

They shook hands, and Quinn stepped around him to join up with Sarah. 

“Did you find anything, or did you immediately get bombarded?” 

The smile he sent her way was indulgent. “I got a bit of a look.” Taking the other end of the cart, he pulled her down one of the decor aisles and pointed out some different shaped gold glass ornaments. 

“I liked those, too, but I liked the silver better.” 

“We could get both,” Quinn suggested, lifting a box of each color into the cart. 

“You want to go metallic?”

One side of his mouth twisted. 

“So, no,” Sarah laughed. “What do you think instead?” 

“I don’t know. I just think only metallic is kind of weird.” 

“Okay,” Sarah turned to another section of baubles and started putting them between the silver and gold. 

They discussed the combinations but couldn’t agree on what colors looked better together. 

“Why don’t we just do two trees,” Quinn suggested after having the same circular conversation twice. 

Sarah agreed, glad he brought it up again.  

“Do you want two live ones?” 

“I think we should get one fake one. I’m already a little worried I’m going to forget to water the one.” 

“Do we have to water it?” 

“I’d imagine so. It’s a living plant, isn’t it?” 

He’d never thought about it. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Didn’t you have real trees growing up?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, before sheepishly adding on, “but my mom did all of that.”   

Just as he expected, Sarah snorted. “I can’t believe your dad made your mom take care of something for a holiday she doesn’t even celebrate.” 

“She celebrated Christmas,” Quinn argued. “It’s not like she was against it or something.” 

“It’s the principle of the thing.” 

He smiled indulgently at her. 

They spent another hour wandering around Costco, deciding what to buy. Sarah tried not to wince at the price when it totaled on the checking screen. It was their first year, after all. These things would always be basics they could use over and over again. 

After loading it in the back of his car and starting for home, Sarah spoke again. “Quinn?”

He glanced at her, worry etched onto his face. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again,” she assured, reaching for his hand. “This was so thoughtful and kind.”

A  smile spread over his face, “you don’t need to thank me, Sarah. “I like when I can do something special for you.” 

It wasn’t a strange thing to her anymore, to be with such a caring partner, who not only remembered things about her, but put them to use. Just the other day, he’d brought a set of playing cards home from Seattle after she mentioned wanting to use some different ones in her research with Walter. 

Quinn let her pull his hand into her lap, glad that he’d pulled this off and that she’d enjoyed it so much.   

When the day of the party arrived, Sarah was feeling remarkably calm. 

While they were planning, she felt the weight of hosting the team as the Captain’s girlfriend like a physical thing she had to uphold. Not only did she want everyone to have a good time, she felt it was partially her responsibility to represent Quinn well. Not that he couldn’t do that on his own. He could. It just felt like another mantle she had to uphold and worried she would somehow fail or let him down.

After sharing these fears with her therapist, she helped her to remember that while her fears were understandable, there wasn’t really any basis for them. She’d already spent time with the team with the title of the captain’s girlfriend. The only difference now, as Jenny pointed out, was that she and Quinn were living together. “Which,” Jenny told her, “really only solidifies your relationship. If the team had any issues with Quinn dating you, they would have brought them up a long time ago.” 

Now, as she got ready, hosting their first party together felt like a cementing step in their relationship. It felt a bit like something out of a fairy tale. 

Pulling at the skirt of her dress until it fell the way it was meant to, she smoothed her hands over her hips as she smiled. It’d been a ridiculously long process to find the right dress, but now that she was on the other side of it, the final result was well worth work.

After going shopping with Bella and Katelyn, she came home empty handed.  Everything they'd found was too…much. Too frilly, or too plain. Nothing fit correctly, or it didn’t cover what she wanted covered or didn’t flatter her body. She didn’t even have an image in her head of what she wanted to wear (she rarely did), but nothing they found felt right. 

She’d be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that dress hunting had, at least partially, been so hard because she felt more than a little frumpy and even a little bit fat standing next to both beautiful women. Not that either of them did anything to make her feel that way. They were kind and nice, and two of her best friends among the wives and girlfriends. Still, anytime she tried on a dress, on top of it not being right, when she stood next to them, her eyes were automatically drawn to her hips and stomach, which were so much rounder than either of theirs. 

Generally, body image didn’t bother her - she knew she was attractive and knew Quinn found her attractive. Even knowing that, she had a hard time turning off that comparison part of her brain when seeing herself reflected back next to the two thin women she was with. 

So, while both of them walked away with beautiful party dresses, Katelyn in a short, delicately sewn green frock, and Bella in a sparkly blue sweeping number, Sarah was forced to go hunting for the perfect dress online. Knowing she was running out of time, she bought fourteen, figuring she would return what she didn’t like.

Of course, it was the last one - which arrived only a week before the party - that finally sang to her. Even Quinn commented on it when he saw it hanging in the closet, telling her, “I like this one.”

“Yeah?” 

He’d nodded, offered her a cheeky smile as he said, “I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.”  

At the time, she’d laughed and shaken her head, but with the way he was looking at her now, she knew he hadn’t been lying. 

“Wow,” Quinn said, eyes scanning up and down her body when Sarah walked out of the walk-in closet.

The sparkly fabric cradled her curves as if it had been made for her. He especially liked the way it just barely cupped her ass before billowing down to the floor. He’d never seen her in something so fancy - they’d never had the occasion to dress up like this. 

Thoughts of past prom and formal dates skipped through his mind, and he decided she was the prettiest date he’d ever had. Especially with the way the dark red color turned her eyes a stormy blue.

She gave him a teasing, little smile, “you like it?” 

Scoffing, he gave up fighting the impulse to grasp her hips. The fabric was smooth and surprisingly soft under his palms. He’d expected the tinsel-y shine to be scratchy. Whoever made it knew what they were doing. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you all night,” he said as his eyes drank in her figure one more time. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she gave him a seductive smile and a wink, “lucky for you, I think we could arrange for you to take me home tonight.” 

“Really?” he teased, one hand sliding around to cradle that curve of her butt he’d been admiring earlier. 

“Play your cards right, and I think you just might.” 

“I might have to corner you under the mistletoe before then.”

“I thought you hated mistletoe,” she said, rolling her eyes. He'd been mildly horrified when he found she'd hung two sprigs of it in the apartment – one in the front hall and one in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“I don’t know that I’d hate it with you,” he said, voice soft as he caressed her hips again. “I hated when people would try to corral me under it with some girl they wanted me to date,” he explained. “If it means I get to kiss you, I’m going to take advantage every time I can.” 

Thinking of past Christmases and failed mistletoe attempts, Quinn was so struck by her. His life from a year ago had been turned totally upside down. All in good ways, but it was still startling to glance back at how lonely he was last Christmas in comparison to the joy, love, and contentment he felt this year. 

 “You’re going to be the prettiest girl here,” he said, unable to stop himself from looking her over again.

Though she smiled, she snorted and rolled her eyes. 

“You will be,” he insisted, pulling her against him. He couldn’t fight not touching her more. 

Deciding she was too tired to push back against his compliments, Sarah leaned in to press her lips to his. With her heels on, he was just an inch taller than she was. Kissing Quinn was never difficult, but she did enjoy the easier access their closer heights allowed for. 

He mumbled a noise, his other hand coming up to cup the back of her head to intensify the kiss. 

As she broke away, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “are you not wearing any underwear?”

Her eyes fluttered open. “What?” she asked, a laugh splitting her mouth into a natural, pretty smile. 

“I can’t feel anything,” he explained, running his palm over her bum again. 

“Strictly speaking? No.” 

His eyes grew round with shock. 

“But I have shape wear on, so it’s kind of worse. Harder to get off.”

An almost relieved smile crossed his face. 

“Why?” 

“I just…I was gonna have a real hard time tonight if you weren’t wearing anything under this dress,” he admitted as his palm slid up the curve of her body.

“I don’t think I could face a party with your teammates without any underwear on.”

“Too bad,” he tsked, “then I really wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.” 

“Be a good boy,” she admonished, moving his fingers from where they were sneaking under the straps.

Licking his lips, Quinn looked into her face, his expression eager. 

She held his gaze, letting the tension build between them. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, vibrating against her leg. He didn’t look away.

“That’ll be the food,” she said, breaking the spell. “You better go grab it.”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head gently, Quinn reminded himself they were heading into a party and now was not the time for him to start fantasizing. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Those pants still look super hot on you!” she called, following him. 

A few weeks before, she’d first told him she liked them by sending him a Canucks Instagram story that showed him walking through the arena parking garage, along with the message, got me drooling over your thighs in this suit. The gray fabric was cut close, making his legs look deliciously thick and muscled.

His laughter echoed off the windows as he jogged down the stairs. “I’m wearing them just for you!” he called back before the front door shut. 

Making her way down to the kitchen, Sarah surveyed the apartment on the way. They had decided to put the second tree next to the lucky couch, which only served to make the spot more romantic. Since it’d gone up, they’d spent at least one night a week curled up together reading by it’s light. It was decorated in silver and green, while the larger, fresh tree was decorated in classic red and gold, including some geometric diamonds her mom used in their last family tree. Sarah had asked her sister, Rachel, if she could send them to her. It was nice, having that little part of her mom in the house at a time they both loved so much, nice to see pieces of Quinn mixed in with everything. 

Other than the trees, there were no other holiday decorations besides a Christmas Village that had belonged to her dad, which was set up on the sideboard in the living room. 

An hour later, almost everyone was there, dressed in their holiday finery. 

Quinn had an incredibly soft, dark green cashmere sweater on over top of a white dress shirt. He’d almost worn the bomb cufflinks Sarah had given him, but at the last minute, he decided it would be more practical if he rolled his sleeves up.

The way Sarah’s eyes lingered on his forearms when he had told him he made the right choice. 

Sarah had insisted the men needed to wear slacks, “if the women are putting on dresses, it’s the least you can do. No dude gets to show up in jeans when women have to wear shape wear.” 

He said he saw her point and dropped the bad news on the boys the following day. 

“Oh my God!” Bella gushed, walking into the house. “It looks gorgeous in here!” 

“Thank you. It was really fun to decorate together for the first time.”

“Huggy helped with this?” Brock asked dubiously, walking up and slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. Sarah swore they both could wear head to toe hunting orange and still be the most beautiful couple she’d ever seen. Seeing them dressed for the season was like looking into a catalog, two perfect people in exactly the perfect clothes, matched to perfection. If they stood by the tree, she was pretty sure she could submit the picture to any department store in the world, and they’d put them in an ad without question. It was quite stunning, really. 

“He did,” Sarah said, beaming. “We decided on the theme together and got decorations, and we put up the trees before you guys left over Thanksgiving.” 

“Brock never helps with stuff like that,” Bella teased. 

“I offered!” Brock corrected. “She said she doesn't trust my taste,” he told Sarah conspiratorially before dropping a kiss to Bella’s cheek and announcing, “I’m going to get us drinks.” 

“Oh my god,” Bella exclaimed once he was gone, “where did you find this dress? It’s, like, perfect!” 

“Its from this Australian company called Blackmilk. It was the last one to arrive,” Sarah said with a roll of her eyes, “of course.” 

“Well, it was worth the wait. You look killer. Your ass looks insane.” 

Sarah laughed, “the spanx have a lot to do with that.”

Bella shook her head, “no. You have a great ass. I wish I had curves like yours.”

Glancing down at herself, then at Bella’s petite frame, Sarah wondered who it served for women to be pitted against each other this way. The beauty industry, probably. Whoever invented spanx. 

“That's sweet, thank you.” 

Bella hooked her arm through Sarah's and demanded a tour of the apartment with everything decorated. 

Watching from across the living room as Sarah opened the door, looking comfortable and every part the hostess, Quinn smiled, glad to see her feeling so at home. 

He was only a little surprised to see the Millers on the other side of the door. He’d invited them, but didn’t hear anything back.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” Sarah gushed, accepting the box of chocolates Natalie offered, before wrapping her in a hug.  

There had been some debate whether or not the Millers would be able to attend - it was their first team function in quite a while - but Sarah was extremely glad they were here. It wouldn’t feel like a team party without them. 

“Come in, come in. We have cocktails and mocktails and lots of food,” she said, turning to embrace JT.

He smiled, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Natalie stayed by Sarah’s side as he wandered into the party, getting progressively louder as he bro-hugged and took some ribbing from his teammates, jibing them in turn as if no time had passed.“Thank you for not making a big deal of this,” she said. 

Sarah shrugged, “I’m just glad you’re here.” 

The other woman gave her a watery smile, and Sarah took her arm to pull her into the house, “what can I get you to drink?” 

The one thing Quinn hadn’t counted on when planning this party was how much he’d be separated from her. When they attended parties in the past, they were often together, or at least not apart for long. Now, with the role of hosts, they had people to talk to and drinks to refresh, and it felt like everything was pulling them away from each other, rather than closer together. 

As the night went on, even though they were still separated, Quinn found he always seemed to know where Sarah was. Not just from her laugh, which he did hear in abundance, or from  glimpsing light glinting off her sparkly dress, which occasionally flashed in the corners of his vision. No, it was that same magnetic force that pulled him to her the first time he saw her, still in full effect.

He was talking with Conor when he felt that longing hook in his navel, nudging him in her direction. 

When he looked up, however, he couldn’t see her. It only took a moment for her to reappear, walking from the kitchen, smiling at something Meghan was showing her on her phone. Probably photos of Quint, he guessed. She had a new bottle of Perrier in one hand and a bowl of ice in the other. 

As if sensing his gaze, she glanced up. 

Once their eyes met, their connection followed suit, snapping into alignment as they held each other's gaze. He was on the other side of the apartment, in the living room, but for a brief moment, it seemed everyone else fell 6 they were alone in the house again. 

She winked, and a ridiculous, cheesy smile took over his whole face. 

They’d taken pictures in front of the Christmas tree at the beginning of the night as soon as Elias and Katelyn had arrived and could hold the camera. Sarah wanted to send them to her family. He’d smiled when the photo had popped up in the chat she had with his family. His mom had almost immediately hearted the photo and gushed over how beautiful Sarah looked in her dress. 

You look nice too, Quinn, Luke had quipped. 

That had been the last time he had his hands on her, and watching her chat with Meghan as she tipped fresh ice into the metal bucket, he was itching to touch her again. 

“So, what did you think of that video session today?” Conor asked. 

“Hu?” Quinn murmured, unable to tear his eyes from Sarah as she started to laugh. 

Conor followed his sightline. “Oh god, you’re hopeless,” he murmured. “Go get your fix, then come talk to me,” he said, tone only half joking as he pushed Quinn’s shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Can I borrow her for a minute?” Quinn asked, throwing a smile in Meghan's direction as he walked up to them. 

Not waiting for an answer, he took the bowl from Sarah's hand, setting it on the bar cart and leading her back in the direction of the kitchen by a loose grip on her upper arm. 

“Quinn, what's wrong?” she asked, glancing back to make sure Meghan didn't feel abandoned. Thankfully, Natalie had taken her place in the conversation.

“Nothing wrong,” he said, stopping to lean in the kitchen doorway. 

One of her eyebrows raised, “you just needed to come hang out in the kitchen?” 

A snort of laughter escaped his mouth before he pointed up. Sarah followed his finger to the little sprig of fake mistletoe she’d hung there. “I thought you were joking,” she said, her eyes coming back to his face. 

“About this dress?” he asked, slipping his hands over her hips and around to hold her bum. “Or about wanting to kiss you under the mistletoe?” 

She glanced back to the party, hoping no one caught Quinn groping her so openly. “I don't know. About the cornering bit, I guess.”

A smile crept over his face, “how else was I supposed to guarantee we'd end up here together?” 

Sarah tried to roll her eyes but ended up smiling instead. It was nice to feel so wanted. 

“I missed you,” he said, nudging her to step toward him by tightening his hands. 

“Quinn, people can see,” she admonished, even as she moved closer. 

“So?”  

“So you have your hands all over my ass in plain sight.” 

“I don’t think anyone would blame me for wanting to touch you in this dress,” he said.

A thrill spiked in her chest. She’d never had this much pull over a man. “And what were you hoping for under this mistletoe?” she asked.

“Just need a minute to tide me over until the party ends,” he murmured, leaning in. 

His lips brushed over hers. 

Deciding she didn’t care if people saw, Sarah sighed into him. Everyone knew they were dating, after all. More than dating - they were living together. They were throwing a party together. No one would be shocked to see them under the mistletoe. 

Allowing herself to sink into the kiss, she opened her mouth and welcomed the sweet, tangy taste of his tongue. He must have just drunk some of the cranberry punch she made. 

 A contented noise escaped his mouth, and Quinn leaned a little closer, savoring the hint of chocolate liqueur in her mouth. 

The knowledge that his entire team and their partners were in the house caught up to him, and Quinn pulled back. He didn’t really want to, but he also didn’t want the ribbing that would surely come his way if it went any farther.  

He just needed to make it to that evening anyway. 

Pursing his lips together, he met her eyes.

Her smile told him she was looking just as forward to the end of the party as he was. 

The anticipation of it spiked in his stomach, making him feel giddy. 

The laughter and drinks kept flowing long after the gift exchange wound down.

 In an effort to do something different from the year before, they’d proposed a white elephant type exchange, but each gift had to be worth at least 100 dollars and something nice, not jokey. 

The most fought over gifts were a bottle of imported Irish Whiskey Dakota brought and a diamond necklace Sarah had found in a vintage shop along her regular route home.

Quinn ended up with a pair of tickets to a cooking class with a local chef, while Sarah ended up with a ridiculously soft cashmere scarf. 

Though Sarah expected that everyone, with their rigorous travel schedules, would want to get home as soon as possible, it seemed they all were savoring the time together without their kids and without the pressure of practice or a game. 

It was nice to see all the guys casual and carefree in a way that didn’t happen very often. She rarely saw the whole team so relaxed together. 

When it became evident that everyone would be staying much later than anticipated, Sarah started to readjust her expectations for the evening. The way things were going, they’d be too tired to do anything but do a quick clean of the apartment and flop into bed when the night wound down. 

Quinn was chatting with Lankinen in the kitchen, looking so effortlessly handsome in his sweater and slacks. Those slacks really should be a crime. his thighs looked good enough to bite. And then he’d gone and rolled up his sleeves. He had strong wrists and forearms, and when he wore shirts like this, she always felt a strange surge of attraction to them. 

As she continued to stare, just as she expected would happen, he looked up to meet her gaze. 

She gave a subtle head tilt toward the entry hall and raised her eyebrows. 

A smile crept over his face, and he nodded. 

Trying to be casual, she made her way to the front door. She’d hung mistletoe in the entryway, imagining kissing each other hello and goodbye at the door, even though that rarely happened in their everyday life. 

By the time Quinn was able to make his excuses and follow Sarah to the front door, she’d been there for several minutes, He found her leaning against the wall, with her head tilted back, seemingly savoring the time alone. 

He was just wondering if he should leave and come back when she glanced over. 

A smile immediately spread over her face, and she straightened.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the distance between them. 

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, just for him. 

Slipping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. Even in the dim, entryway light, she could see how the color of his sweater brought out the green in his eyes, making them a mottled, foresty color.

“You should wear green more often.”

The left corner of his mouth tipped up. “I should?” 

“Yeah.” Her fingers wove themselves into the curls at the base of his skull. “It brings out the color in your eyes.” 

He fluttered his lashes, and she giggled. “Can you just learn to take a compliment?” 

A blush flashed over his cheeks. 

“You’re just really handsome,” she said, almost as if it was a confession. 

Quinn resisted the urge to deflect the compliment and busied himself with running his hands over the smooth fabric of her dress. “You should wear this all the time.” 

“All the time?” she repeated. 

He nodded. 

“Even at the aquarium?” 

A laugh chuffed out of his mouth. “Okay, maybe not all the time,” he continued before she could cut in, “you just look really beautiful in it.” 

She knew how Quinn felt about this dress, he’d made that abundantly clear throughout the night - checking her out each time she entered the room and with his little stunt in the kitchen - but hearing the sincerity in his voice now made it burrow home with a bit more force. 

It was her turn to blush. 

“You’re doing okay?” he asked. “I can start telling people they need to leave.” 

She shook her head, “You don’t need to do that. I’m having fun. Just wanted you to myself for a minute.” 

Quinn felt a ridiculously big smile spread over his face. “Always happy to do that,” he said, leaning closer. 

As their mouths melted together, Sarah thought she heard shushing but pushed the whispers out of her mind, relishing the stolen moment alone. 

She didn’t think about it for the rest of the night, which lasted well into the next morning. By the time everyone left, after Natalie and JT stayed late to help them clean up, it was past two. 

Glancing at her phone for the first time after loading the dishwasher, Sarah was surprised to see she had a message from Katelyn. When she opened it, she found a dimly lit photo of her and Quinn in the entryway, kissing under the mistletoe. His hands were on her waist, and hers were in his hair. Through her editing magic, Kate had blurred everything else in the background, making the photo look just like Sarah felt in that moment – as if she and Quinn were in their own little bubble. 

Caught you guys under the mistletoe. It was too cute not to take a pic. Hope you don’t mind. Thanks for a great party. E was telling me on the way home how happy Q’s been since he met you. Anyway, just glad this crazy world brought us together. Love you, girl. 

 Love you too. Thank you for the beautiful picture. 

Katelyn hearted the message, and when Sarah showed it to Quinn, he said, “that one should go in the launch deck, don’t you think?”

Sarah nodded, her movement slow with sudden fatigue.

“Come on,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her away from the kitchen and the dishes. “We can finish this up in the morning. Let’s get to bed.” 

Too tired to argue that they really should just get it all done now, she let him lead her upstairs. 

They got ready for bed, and as he pulled her close, Quinn whispered, “I love you, you know that?” 

“I know.” It took a sleepy minute for her to continue, “I love you, too. I’m glad we did this.”

Tucking his nose into her hair, Quinn breathed in her familiar scent. His voice was dim when he thanked her. 

She turned, pressing her nose into the divot of his collar bone so he felt and heard her next words. 

“I’m glad this Christmas is with you.” 

 “I wouldn’t want it with anyone else.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[corollaservant]

Introspect // Dabi x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: The past never dies. But it can often be forgotten. (3.4k)

Warnings: yandere/obsessive behavior, captivity, stalking, violence, noncon/dubcon, jealousy, delusion, denial, implied PTSD, deterministic and nihilistic philosophical paradigm, Dabi's POV—stream of consciousness type fic

A/N: wrote this in 3hrs. majorly inspired by (and dedicated to) my fave tumblr writer, new magic wand by tyler the creator and this dabi art 🖤

Happy. You looked happy, that’s what he thought when he saw it.

Not in a way you’d been with him anyway. He didn’t know whether that was for the better. The first thing he thought was you posted him. Of course you would. He was not patched, burnt or looking like someone who escaped the psychiatric ward. Without proper clothing, jumping out of a window, frantically running towards the opposite direction. Was it a matter of appearance? Or did you just not like him enough? He wouldn’t know, you hadn’t spoken in a month. And some days. That’s when you told him you needed space. Seriously, people needed to come up with better excuses, this one was over-saturated. Was it bad he clung onto you? It’s not like you had many friends, all he had asked was more of your time. Your stupid job wasn’t even that important—he never bothered finding out what you did exactly, it’s not like he didn’t care, he just wanted you there. The rest of your whereabouts were none of his business as long as you were not conversing (excessively) with anyone else. Because even then, why would you need to do that? He could do it for you.

He had no actual job, well, classifying as a villain doesn’t get you far in life, he called himself a freelancer. Freelancer in murder and theft, maybe. But he felt like he had a share in serving divine justice. A modern vigilante so to say. Any accidental death was a misfortune, a predetermined fate. He didn’t want to pretend to be integrated in society for you to like him, he was lucky because he didn’t have to. Which then reminded him of how he met you.  

Petting strays at night wasn’t careful of you, especially with the crime rates in the city. But you had done so regardless, he remembers it vividly: You in an alley, on your knees, not caring about the dirt coming in direct contact, extending your hand. The cat was barely visible, he could only make out its yellow eyes. But then, the cat saw him, he knew cats had brilliant vision and it left you, perhaps in thought he had food you didn’t. You turned your head only to take a step back. Not smart, you landed on your ass as you opened your mouth. Did he scare you? Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. Under other circumstances he’d leave. Making fun of strangers wasn’t really his thing, not unless they deserved it, but the cat seemed to take a liking to him. Animals loved him, his mom used to tell him not to trust people who repelled them, it was a bad sign. Animals had instinct, animals could tell. He decided to pet the little guy (or girl?), as he kneeled down and softly touched its head. That was another thing about cats. They didn’t give a fuck about the staples or burnt odor, they just wanted food and the occasional touch. He liked cats. He could see himself in them. Something in the domesticity of the situation must've calmed you down because you fixed your posture and to his surprise approached him. It was still dark, you were still a woman and alone in an alley. 

‘’He likes you.’’ You told him. Had you already figured out it was a male stray? Dabi must’ve underestimated you. Your voice hid a whine, a soft protest but it was not annoyance and he shifted his gaze.

‘’Yeah.’’ was all he said. 

‘’Can I?’’ You asked. Why were you asking for permission, this wasn’t even his cat. 

‘’Sure.’’

You were so close, trying not to scare the cat and also touch him, he noticed. Your finger tried to avoid his but the cat’s head was unfortunately not that big so you eventually grazed a digit over him. You hadn’t flinched back then, hadn’t even scrunched your nose, were you not afraid? Didn’t the smell and appearance repel you? Apparently not, you seemed so invested in getting the cat to like you. It wasn’t like it didn’t. The stray ended up loving you, purring at your touch and looking in your eyes, like a man in love. And maybe it wasn’t just the cat. 

-

Within three days of your first encounter he had you on his chest, in your apartment of course, where else could he have you? He wanted to fuck you the first time he saw you, but the urge wasn’t that violent, which had taken him by suprise. You also did not seem like the type to give it up easily. He’d have to do some mental jumping jacks to get you, he didn’t worry about revealing too much though; he didn't have a lot to say, his old identity long buried away with his sensitivity. He still didn’t feel like hurting you. The first night he told you his name, Dabi, and it was so convincing, he too had believed it. You exchanged trivial information neither cared about and he offered company on your way back. He scolded you for being alone in the neighborhood, like some good samaritan, he laughed as he guided you through dimly lit alleys with zero traffic. 

‘’Want to come inside?’’ You had asked. Already? Were you that easy? But who was he to say no?

Your place was small, as expected, neat and tidy, with a few clothes on the bed, nothing bad. It smelled nice too, he noticed a small plant on the coffee table. How gullible to let him in like that. Dabi imagined how many times you must’ve been wronged in life. But you being you—it was probably something that flew over your head daily. You’d call it compromise, he’d call it stupidity.

He had fucked you in missionary that night, a true gentleman, easing his way inside and slightly towering, making sure the stapled skin under his sternum didn’t touch your sensitive one. You were soaking by the time you stopped making out and he slid a finger inside, warm and enticing, his cock hardened in primal ways. He had softly thrown you on your bed (his definition of soft wasn’t exactly soft, you had let out a groan, was it bad?) and climbed on top. You were looking at him expectantly, your eyes glassy, was that pain or excitement, Dabi would bet bucks on the latter. The way you had shyly parted your legs, not for his cock, but to fit him in between was sickeningly pretty, he could swear he was almost…nervous to slip his cock inside. And he was right, trying to fit it inside failed him two or three times while he pretended to toy your clit with his cockhead. You didn’t seem to mind, his act must’ve been convincing, you were softly moaning and your eyes dared to look at the sight of his swollen tip against your lower lips, was it pretty? He had fucked you as hard as he would allow himself—your body could take it, he had to be honest, the more he stuffed you, the more he needed to drive his cock further into your soft walls, there was no room for play pretend romance here. But you seemed to like it too, wrapping your arms around the bare part of his back, fingers accidentally trailing the stapled skin and groaning near his face. ‘’Fuck.. right there.. D-Dabi! More!’’ More? Sure, you could have more. A patched arm strongly pinned a leg above your head, touching the bed frame, as his stiff and pained cock violated your cunt, he could feel how deep he was and constantly fought the urge to spill already. As for you? Tears from your eyes fell down your now stained sheets as you screamed. Pleasure, pain, honestly he didn’t care much about what it was, your pussy clamping down on him the last thing he felt before he bit down your neck, almost ripping out the skin tissue. His cum slowly trickled out, while both of you panted, each exhale synchronizing with the clock ticking in the kitchen. 

There were no voids you could fill, he knew it, interacting with others proved to be a daily reminder. But there were voids you soothed, pain you healed just with your head resting where a heart used to be. Heart beating irregularly, like his feet in his childhood, with excitement, with a different type of eagerness. These weren’t thoughts he made that night and that’s how he knew he liked you. That night his mind was blank for the very first time, carefree from reality, from the ugliness of living—you had sex with some stained villain, who hadn’t only stained your cunt, but your sheets too, your morals indirectly and heart along the way. These thoughts came to him when he saw the photo. Space. You said you needed space. There wasn’t any relationship established, what the fuck you needed space for? Because now he had found something to give waking up a reason. Someone to regularly satisfy his cock with, someone to take away his thoughts and halt his aimless wandering. And you needed space. How lame. You know what? He could give you space. Indirectly of course. He’d still follow you around, check the whereabouts and conversations, sit outside your house and watch you get undressed. But you looked happy. And he couldn’t decipher in what way. Was he a friend? Who gives a fuck about the guy anyway, why were you smiling like that? You never posted him, that's for sure, you knew in the three months of irregular hanging out (to call it dating would be a joke) that he hated it. And so you never did, even though he wanted you to deep down. Something small. A grocery store visit, one you made when he said he’d cook dinner (he had burnt it). But you never did and now here you are posting with someone irrelevant. 

Murder wasn’t the answer. Stupidly enough it was always associated with morality. But you’d think Dabi would have none of that. He thought murder was stupid. No second of his time ought to be wasted for the next guy. Though he had to admit, he often contemplated whether you’d want this. You didn’t know shit about him. But a sudden murder would definitely have you crawling for protection. And who better than the one who committed it? He honestly wouldn’t go out of his way to do all that. He wanted you organically. It had been a long time since he wanted someone. But you sufficed. You were enough. You never asked, never complained, not even when you’d come home from work, exhausted and dirty and he was waiting at your door. Not even when you were shoved against the cupboards and fucked without remorse—you still wrapped your legs around him and whimpered on his neck. And fuck if that didn’t feel good. He hugged you in your sleep. You’d both sleep in opposite directions, you first of course, so you’d never notice he switched sides and brought a leg over yours, resting his head on your throat, feeling each breath, each pulse. You’d wake up confused at the position, he’d say he didn’t remember. These were the few nights he could reach REM state. No vivid dreams of course, a shipwreck maybe and some elevator descending, lack of control or whatever bullshit he read once. He could still dream though, a miserable reminder he was still human. 

He was always mean. The world didn’t care to mold someone into being nice. What would that even be? He thought nice meant exchange. Be nice and you’d get a pair of shoes. Act nice and you’ll get to watch TV. Treat others with respect and you’d be the family’s topic of discussion over Christmas. Sure, there were selfless people, he wasn’t crazy to think there weren’t a few of them left. You’d be his prime example. And you weren’t even stupid. But your willingness to help and give bordered exploitation. It hit him like lightning. You needed to get away, the real world was doing damage to people like you. If you were with him, you wouldn't have to think twice about being taken advantage of. He’d still be mean, you wouldn’t change that. But at least you’d sleep assured knowing that he’d never, ever demand something from you. Well…besides your presence, though he’d take you as you are, so in retrospect you’d come to appreciate him for the service. 

When he came to pick you up (abduct sounded rough—you’d also want this eventually) you had just finished work. To others you seemed fine, to him you looked exhausted. No need for mask, no need for clothes, he had everything arranged. You hadn’t objected much, he tried the kind approach first, he had only asked you to go for a ride with him in a car he stole, something you’d never know. The place was a dump, a couch covered in dust and a rusty kitchen, but you’d both make it work. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find money. He would, eventually. He remembers the way your eyes widened, what were you expecting, a trip to the countryside for some mimosas? You should’ve known better. ‘’What are we doing here?’’ You had asked, looking him in the eyes, you seemed frightened like the first time you saw him in the alley, it all ends in the beginning of the cycle, such a paradox, he thought. ‘’This is our new place.’’ He cooed as he approached you, you took a step back. There really was no reason for you to be scared, you’d grow to understand the only thing scaring you would be losing him. 

He had tried to kiss you but you protested, pushing him away, a shame really and he wanted to continue with the nice approach. Well then again nice didn’t really exist so it wouldn't have worked anyway. He kissed you, your mouth was closed but not for long before it was forced open, arms snaking around your waist and pinning you to a wall collecting condensation since god knows when. He was on your neck, kissing, biting, frenzied moves really, he needed you more than he needed whatever kept him alive. Three months ago, he stopped thinking. Now, the only thing he thought was you. He dragged you to the dusty sofa, he thought of using his quirk to burn the fabric, but ripping it out came naturally. You were laid out naked and shivering, his hands grabbed your waist—was this warm enough for you? You whispered something, maybe it was louder than a whisper, stop or whatever but he couldn’t listen. He found your cunt immediately, he was almost drooling at the sight, when was he that hungry ever again? Something about your life. People behind. You said something, he didn’t listen. You weren’t that wet like the first time, he understood. Women, they need emotional connection. Maybe a sloppier kiss to get them going. He found your mouth again, forcing you to kiss him back while he gorged on yours, a small movement in your hips, a pad of his finger back on your cunt. Wetter, perfect. He slid up a finger, curling it while his thumb grazed over your clit, you whimpered. That was a sound he could finally register. He’d bring back that smile, but it’d be for him only. One finger turned to two and eventually three, he needed to stretch you out to take him, nothing had changed since the first time, just his eagerness. His cock throbbed in his black pants, he wanted to taste you. 

You moaned and attempted to touch his hair. He didn’t mind but this wasn’t the time. He moved his head lower, spreading your thighs open and spitting on your clit. Spittle dripped down your slit and his index finger trailed it along the entrance, earning him a moan. See, you already enjoyed this too much. This would be your life now on, he’d fuck you till you wouldn’t want another thing. Captivity had a good side after all. He’d treat you so well, he wouldn’t even have to force all that domestic bullshit on you. You’d do it willingly. He eats your cunt out like it's the most sacred meal, sloppily and without coordination, pushing his tongue inside and gripping your thighs forcefully and what is this? You buck your hips up, wanting more, needy little slut. Perfect, so perfect for making him stop thinking. Making him forget. His cock must leak precum, it feels uncomfortable and he wants you to coat his tongue, he really does, but please understand, he needs you. Now. To bother removing his pants fully would be hilarious, he has neither time nor desire to do so, they’re slid down half way, his cock jumps on his abdomen and he gives it an impatient stroke—looking at you always. Let me go. You say, what? Were you stupid? Right before the best part? Right before the start of a new life? Of a life you should be living years ago? Delusional, you’re delusional. ‘’You love me, baby.’’ He tells you and lets his cockhead slip in your entrance, bit by bit until he’s bottomed out and you wince, he doesn’t move just for a second, this should be enough and then starts thrusting without consideration. Like it’s an incentive, like you’re a hole that needs filling, a mere means to an end. You protest a bit more, if you get louder he might have to get violent on you, please understand he doesn’t want this. You’ll get it, eventually. He can’t decipher the look on your face, it certainly doesn’t scream happy like in the photo. 

And then he’s reminded of the photo and a rage is born. ‘’Did he fuck you this good?’’ He spears his cock inside, you are hitting against the arm of the couch, your mouth contracts and you dampen his cock, so he must be doing something right. ‘’Tell me, did he fuck this cunt?’’ He asks and you just moan—are you dumb? Why aren’t you answering? His arms envelop your throat, pressing on the carotid artery as your muffled moans get even more constricted, he spits on your face and demands an answer. Dirty. Slut. Dirty. ‘’N-o’’ comes out your mouth. He hadn’t tainted you? He hadn’t touched you. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He wipes the saliva off your cheeks, it’s so...wet? Are you crying? Why are you crying? He hates it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’ He kisses you while he plunges deeper, you groan and try to avoid him, stop doing this, you’re his now, it’s final. ‘’I’ll make you feel better, alright?’’ He breathes out, he knows you like his fingers, he knows. His thumb circles achingly, longingly even on your puffy clit while you clench around him, your breathing is labored, you have to cum—cum now! On his cock, show him how much you love him. A few more strokes and he has you clamping down, more tears, so many tears and you moan out his fake name, with anger maybe or an orgasm high, he can’t tell and he doesn’t care either, it’s enough. He needs to steal a kiss one last time and feel the way you squeeze and soak all around to let his load paint you white, maybe he is like a woman after all, longing for emotion, even when he has to fulfill plain instincts. You don’t talk after it, you don’t even blink, you aren’t passed out, are you? He wasn’t that hard, come on now. He has to remove himself, clean you up, the couch and he the least of his priorities. You need to get accustomed. You’ll love it. 

You never ask. About the photo. About your family. About anything prior. But that’s not something he dwells upon, he doesn’t like to look back. You still sleep next to him, well, there aren’t many other options available, yet you do. You still breathe softly in your sleep, he still hugs you from behind. You’ve become a sedative, a very much needed one. He dreams some days, an elevator falling, a shipwreck. Only, you’re there this time. 

The few days he remembers the dream, he appreciates the company. He can only hope you do, too. 

[camilaxmartin]

hello good!!Could you do something about Vanessa x reader.the reader where the reader is a security guard and has a relationship with vanessa.One day while walking home, a group of drunks harass the reader and Vanny's personality comes to light?

unwanted touch

hi dear, sorry for the wait!! i need to get back to my writing habits skshdk anyway, i love the idea of vanny coming to light when ‘we’ are in danger and doing stuff vanessa wouldn’t normally do but oh my- she wants to. also, the whole way of switching personalities was inspired by @foxcantswim fics about vanessa/vanny:)

navigation // information // masterlist

summary: (request)

warnings: old gross men, harassment, unwanted touch, a bit of gore, pet names (one use of ‘bunny’)

notes: i actually loved writing this one and i’m so happy with how it turned out:) let me know what you think!!

requests: open!!

i looked at the cameras checking every room for the last time on this shift. everything was perfectly still, there wasn’t any mess anywhere, all the machines were turned off and the animatronics stood right where they needed to. perfect. i looked at the time showing 5:58 am and i comfortably sat in my chair turning off all the cameras and throwing my head slightly back letting out a deep sigh. night shifts were a pain in the ass but at least i could even in the slightest help vanessa with paying the rent. oh, and my parents finally stopped thinking of me as a failure, even though they haven’t really said it straight to my face. i took a deep breathe and blinked a few times trying my best to at least stay awake until i get home. i looked at the time again, seeing 6:00 am finally came along. i smiled to myself and got up from my seat, grabbing my bag and my phone. i closed the doors to ‘my’ office and waved to the animatronics while walking past them to the main entrance. i locked the door and tried opening it, to see if anyone will be able to break in. when the doors didn’t even move, i smiled to myself once more and began walking home, daydreaming of finally laying in my bed and going to sleep.

i walked the small sidewalk lighted up by high beams, even though it was already 6:00 am the sun was not yet awake so it was still pretty dark. i watched as the lights make circles on the ground and smiled at the sight just admiring the way it looked. i felt my phone buzzing in my pocket so i immediately took it out and checked the message i apparently got.

vanessa<3:

are you coming home already? or should i pick you up?

i smiled seeing the message and quickly sent a reply, that i’m already walking home. not waiting for another text from my girlfriend i slipped my phone into my pocket once again and continued on walking by the sidewalk hopping over the broken tiles, not even paying special attention on doing so. when i jumped over the last cracked one i realised that the lights end here and i have to walk through a total darkness for a while. i rolled my eyes not liking this idea in the slightest but not having any other option. i started walking the dark path trying not to think about all the horrible things that could happen and just simply focusing on my surroundings in case something actually happens. i slowly walked past an abandoned church and scrunched my nose at the sight of it. i turned my head around and noticed some other strangely looking building not being able to define what was it purpose before becoming abandoned. i shook my head slightly and looked down at the ground trying to just get over this dark path as quickly as i could. after many of my steps i’ve noticed a light in the distance and immediately smiled knowing i won’t be so scared in just a few more steps. focusing only on the light i haven’t noticed some people started to slowly walk behind me. i took a notice of their presence when they started talking to me.

“what a pretty lady like you does alone in the streets at night?” one of them asked, from his voice i could easily tell that he was drunk. i rolled my eyes and tried to ignore him, quickening my steps.

“there’s no need for rush” another man spoke up and i felt my heartbeat rising. maybe i should’ve asked vanesssa to pick me up.

“so? where are you going?” the first of them asked again. i tried to walk straight in my direction but knew they wouldn’t leave me alone if i just ignored them.

“i’m going back from work” i said not looking back at them but feeling their presence there still. and their smell.

“at this hour? it can be dangerous, let us help you out” the first one spoke up again, i could feel the smirk in his voice. i had to physically hold myself not to roll my eyes again. i tried ignoring them once more.

“yeah, we can definitely help you” the other one chuckled and i felt goosebumps cover my body in disgust.

“thank you a lot, but i can manage” i said and started walking even faster, feeling that they also picked up their pace. shit.

“oh, don’t be like that” the first one spoke up again. “we just want to help you, nothing more” he chuckled knowing exactly what he really meant by those words. i smiled sarcastically not even being sure if they can see my full face.

“thanks, again but i can take care of myself” i said seeing the light move closer and closer as i went into its direction. i felt my phone buzz again and i prayed it was another of vanessa’s messages. i moved my hand into my pocket trying to get it out but then they spoke up again.

“hey hey-“ one of them started and grabbed my hand that tried to take out my phone. i felt my heartbeat rise up again as i was completely terrified. “tell your boyfriend he can wait while we show you how real men act” he said and laughed the other ones along with him. there were at least four of them so it was obvious i didn’t stand a chance against them. i tried to wiggle my hand out but it did nothing as he hold me in place not even letting me walk.

“i don’t have a boyfriend” i said my brain going completely numb in that situation. the one holding my hand laughed again gripping my wrist a bit tighter, i groaned at the touch.

“then it’s even easier” he chuckled and tried to pull me closer to them but then i remembered one thing vanessa has taught me recently. i should always pull my hand in the direction of somebody’s thumb. i quickly looked at his hand around my wrist, the darkness not helping in the slightest and noticed that his thumb was pointing to the right. i immediately moved my arm right snatching out of his grab as my eyes widened not believing it actually worked. all of them looked at me in shock and my brain started to work again as i began running towards the light at the end of this dark alley.

i didn’t turn my head until i reached the light and noticed a lot of homes and buildings around me. i started to breathe deeply and finally turn around not noticing anyone behind me or even further in the dark. i shook my head at the whole situation and continued walking home, doing it quicker that usual. i took out my phone finally and looked at the notification, noticing it was actually a message from vanessa.

vanessa<3:

it’s taking you a while, are you okay? are you sure you don’t need me to pick you up?

i smiled at the message and sent her a quick one back saying that i’ll be home in less than five. i shoved my phone back into my pocket again, trying to focus on anything else rather than that situation.

when i opened the doors to our shared apartment my eyes have met with the blonde’s ones and i immediately smiled at that. i closed the door and locked it behind me throwing the keys on the kitchen counter.

“finally you’re back” she said coming up to me and locking me into a hug. “i was starting to worry”

i chuckled and hugged her back, hugging her even tighter than usually. “nothing to worry about” i said and laughed a bit too fake for her not to notice.

vanessa leaned away and raised one of her eyebrows at me, looking adorably considering that she was still in her pyjama. “what’s with the fake laugh? did something happen to you?” she asked visibly concerned, worry spread out on her face.

“no no!” i said throwing my hands around “just a bunch of guys wanted to probably rape me, but nothing happened” i said visibly exaggerating the situation but vanessa didn’t laugh. oh boy.

“did they touch you?” she asked her voice stern. i swallowed the saliva i had in my mouth wondering how to get out of this conversation.

“nothing happened, i’m okay, that’s what matters” i said while shaking my head and walking away to put my bag on the ground.

vanessa walked behind me almost immediately and grabbed my chin with one of her hands making me look at her. “did. they. touch. you?” she asked putting a more annoyed tone on every of the words. i let out a deep sigh.

“yes.” i said and looked down at her lips not wanting to keep the eye-contact with her. “one of them grabbed my wrist but, thanks to your practice, i got away” i explained and looked up into her eyes again, seeing a somehow crazy look slowly entering them. oh no.

“where was it?” she asked her gaze still on my eyes. “tell me” she said trying to sound more softly but making it come out as even more annoyed.

“in the dark path i had to walk from my work.” i said not knowing how to fully explain it. “close to the abandoned church if you know what i’m talking about” i added and she simply nodded her head letting go of my face.

“from this day on i’ll always drive you off the work” she said and walked to the kitchen making herself a cup of coffee to start the day. i bit the inside of my cheek not knowing what to respond still not being sure if i’m talking to vanessa or maybe vanny just now.

“i’m going to sleep” i said and yawned. vanessa looked at me with a smile on her lips while sipping her coffee.

“sleep tight, i’ll be back before you go to work today” she said starting to get ready for her day shift. i just nodded my head with a smile.

i went to our bedroom, laying down on the bed not even caring about taking off my clothes. just as i was about to fall asleep i heard the doors creak and slowly opened one of my eyes. i saw vanessa quickly walking over to me and giving my forehead a kiss. i smiled sleepily and immediately fell asleep.

i groaned looking at the time sitting in my chair. five minutes left till the end of my shift. i grabbed my phone looking for messages from vanessa to see if she was still coming to pick me up but nothing came. i burrowed my eyebrows not understanding why she hasn’t wrote anything yet. i rolled my eyes shoving the phone into my pocket and taking a last look at the cameras. everything was pretty still so i turned them off, gathering my things to finally leave this place. i threw the bag over my shoulder and took out headphones from it preparing myself for the walk home again. i checked the phone for the last time - nothing. i sighed and closed the door to my office, saying my goodbyes to the animatronics as i was leaving. i locked the mane entrance and began walking home still hoping somewhere deep, vanessa would come pick me up. i played one of my playlists trying to make this walk at least a bit more enjoyable.

i was walking the path with high beams and smiled again at the sight of circles appearing on the ground. as usual, i started jumping over the cracked tiles trying my best not to step over a broken one. after many steps i’ve noticed that the dark part of my walk was approaching and i immediately felt goosebumps covering my skin. i rolled my eyes forgetting about jumping over the tiles and tried my best not to freak out at the thought alone of meeting those guys from yesterday.

i passed the last light and my dark path started. i kept my eyes at the ground not even looking around at the church or that old building, concentrating only on the task of getting out of this dark alley. a slow song suddenly started playing in my headphones making me more aware of my surroundings than i wanted. great. i still tired to just focus on my steps not caring about anything else, but of course it couldn’t go that smoothly.

“long time no see huh?” a man said suddenly appearing behind my back. from his voice i concluded it was the same one from yesterday. i tried ignoring him at my best.

“you probably couldn’t wait to see us again right?” another one of them spoke up and my heartbeat rose up again. i glanced at them seeing there were five man behind me. i was horrified.

“let us show you how real men treat women” different one of them laughed and immediately grabbed my wrist, this time holding with both of his hand so i couldn’t shove out. i felt tears coming to my eyes.

“take off those headphones” one of them said and with my free hand i did as he told me not wanting to be in even more trouble than i already was. they pulled me with them to an even darker corner of the alley, probably behind that church. my brain went numb again i literally didn’t know what to do.

the one holding me shoved me into the wall still holding my wrist waiting for the others to start their actions. i closed my eyes not wanting to see anything and just hoping for the end to come.

one of them grabbed my neck and squeezed it so harshly i thought they wanted to just kill me at the spot. another one started to unbutton my pants and the tears from my eyes started to run down my cheeks. when he finally stopped unzipping my pants i heard a noise at the end of the alley from where they previously took me. i gently opened my eyes and saw a pair of red ones in the distance. oh god.

when that man wanted to pull my pants down another one of them started screaming in pain and my eyes immediately opened wide. i saw vanny’s costume slit his throat with one swift motion of her hand. i looked in disbelief at this situation thanking in my soul for her rescue.

vanny didn’t stop there, when the rest of them looked at her terrified i almost saw her smile widen even more but maybe it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. she shoved the lifeless body of that man into the wall running up to the next one and pushing her knife into his stomach, the man yelled in pain and fear, while his shirt started to become red from his blood. vanny twisted her knife repeatedly in his body trying to make it as painful for him as it was humanly possible. when that man stopped yelling from all the tiredness she took her knife out and shoved him into the ground with one kick, letting him bleed out. she looked back at the three that were still left. one of them started screaming and running away vanny only following him with her glowing eyes, definitely letting him get away… at least for now. she then moved her red glowing eyes to the two standing the closest to me. if that was what she did for the ones who didn’t even touch me, i definitely wouldn’t want to be in the skin of those two.

she tilted her head while looking at them and waved her knife from side to side, obviously debating on what to do about them. i felt that one of them took their hands off of my wrist while the other let go of my neck. i smiled to her not being sure if she saw my face. one of the men suddenly started to run towards her which was the stupidest decision he has ever made in his life. vanny swiftly grabbed his neck, just like he did to me a moment ago, and shoved him into the wall keeping him there and looking straight into his eyes. then, she moved her knife to his face and harshly pushed it into one of his eyes. he started to scream but then she pushed the knife even deeper not liking that he was making a noise, or wanting him to make even more of them. she hardly pulled the knife out along with his eye and dropped the knife to the ground. with her free hand, she pushed two fingers inside the hole in his head and tried to crush his bones. he screamed unbelievably louder and she definitely had enough of it cause then she pulled her fingers out and shoved her whole hand so deep into his throat i didn’t even know it was possible. she somehow managed to grab his vocal cords and rip them out making him bleed also from his mouth. she let go of him and let him slide down the wall not even being able to scream anymore.

the next thing she did was quickly run up to the man who was previously holding my wrist and just shove him to the ground sitting down on his hips keeping him there. he started screaming so she slapped him on the face with her fluffy paw. she then looked back to where her knife was laying and quickly turned around to him. knowing she wanted to use her knife again i walked over to it and picked it up moving to give it to her. but when i came over, she was already playing with not one, but both of his eyeballs using them like rubber balls. i looked at that situation a bit horrified by it all but also feeling a strange satisfaction that they got what they deserved. she then turned her head around and noticed me holding her knife. she shoved it out of my hand and started slowly cutting his face. the knife went in like into a cake and again i swore her smile widened. when his whole face was cut up and i was pretty sure he already passed away she stood up and shoved her knife right into his manhood. the man screamed for the last time and then life left his body for good. vanny dropped the knife and laughed out loud, looking around and seeing everything she did.

i looked at her still a bit terrified by all of this but a small smile creeped up to my face at the thought that she did all this for me. she finally moved her head to look at me and walked over to me staring my face down with titled head. then she moved closer and connected my nose with her fluffy big one. i chuckled slightly as my hands gently stroked her mask. vanny then moved her hands and took of the mask showing me her beautiful face, with messed up hair and a maniac look in her eyes. i tried to keep my calm but my pulse sped up uncontrollably. she laughed still looking at my face and threw her mask on the ground grabbing my waist with her one blooded paw while the other she put on my cheek gently stroking it.

“you’re mine” she said, her voice sounding maniacally, i still wonder how she manages do to that.

“only yours” i whispered and smiled to her trying my best not to be scared. she laughed feeling my heartbeat rise and rolled her eyes.

she moved her head closer to me and connected our lips in a passionate kiss, showing me how deeply she cares and that she would literally do anything to keep me safe. i smiled into the kiss and wrapped my hands around her hair, keeping her in place for as long as she lets me. vanny sighed into the kiss and slowly leaned away still gripping my waist. she opened her eyes and the maniac look was still present. i smiled to her taking my hands out of her hair.

“i would do anything for you. we would” she said and laughed again this time it sounded more like a chuckle.

“i know” i said and smiled to her. “and i really appreciate it” i added and gave her lips a quick peck.

vanny smiled at me and let go of my waist as well as my cheek to grab my hand while her other one picked up her mask. she led me out of that dark corner as i looked back at all the bodies and then turned to her not knowing if it’s safe to just leave them like that. she laughed seeing my sight and gently shook her head putting the mask back on.

“don’t worry about it, bunny” she said and pulled me closer to her once again now standing almost in the light of the street lights. “vanessa will take care of it, i discussed it with her earlier” she said and my eyes went wild at the mention of vanessa realising she knew exactly what vanny did. i smiled to her and uncontrollably giggled at everything that happened. vanny laughed with me as well and pulled me in for the tightest hug i’ve ever received from her.

[atsro-slut]

I have too many ideas and too little inspiration to write them myself so thank you so much for your sacrifice 🙏

But how about a fic where it's Christmas holiday at hogwarts, with reader staying at hogwarts, so Remus decides to stay as well to keep her company. It's not that her family is abus!ve or anything. She just argues a lot with them, and they get so loud that she prefers to stay with Rem? (Am I projecting? Maaaybe) Thank you again so so so much!!! ❤️

The Coziest Christmas

Omg my fav!! I hope you like this lovey!!

Remus Lupin x female!reader

Christmas at Hogwarts was quiet, but with Remus staying behind, Y/N’s holiday turned magical—filled with stolen kisses, warm cocoa, and snow-dusted adventures in an empty castle.

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:☆

The halls of Hogwarts were quieter than they had been in months. Most students had gone home for the holidays, leaving only a handful behind. The castle, usually alive with chatter and footsteps, now felt like it belonged to the snow falling gently outside its walls. For Y/N, the peace was exactly what she needed.

Home was… complicated. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family—they were good people, and she had many fond memories with them—but arguments were common, and they tended to get loud. It was exhausting, trying to keep the peace or defend herself when voices rose and tempers flared. The noise lingered in her mind long after the words had stopped, leaving her restless and drained.

That’s why she had decided to stay at Hogwarts again this year. It wasn’t the first time she’d spent Christmas in the castle, and she doubted it would be the last. What surprised her, though, was when Remus Lupin decided to stay too.

“You’re missing Christmas at home for me?” she’d asked when he first told her, her voice a mix of surprise and guilt.

He had shrugged, his easy, lopsided smile making her heart flutter. “Why not? Hogwarts is quieter, and we’ll have the place mostly to ourselves. Besides,” he added, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear with a tenderness that made her cheeks warm, “I can’t imagine the holidays without you.”

Y/N had stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say. He had a way of doing that—leaving her speechless with how thoughtful and kind he could be.

Now, the two of them sat together in the Gryffindor common room, the fire casting a warm glow across their faces. Remus had gone down to the kitchens earlier and returned with two mugs of hot cocoa, complete with marshmallows floating on top. The rich scent of chocolate mingled with the faint smell of pine from the garland strung across the mantle, making the space feel cozy and festive.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Y/N said, her voice breaking the comfortable silence. She curled her fingers around the warm mug, her eyes fixed on the flames. “How empty Hogwarts feels without everyone here.”

Remus chuckled, his tone light and soothing. “It’s almost eerie. But I don’t mind. It’s nice to have some peace and quiet for a change.”

Y/N smiled and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. His jumper was soft, and the familiar scent of parchment and pine that clung to him was comforting. “Thanks for staying, Rem. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. His voice was calm, but there was a steadiness in it that left no room for doubt. “I know it’s not easy for you to go home sometimes. If staying here makes you happier, then I’m happy too.”

Y/N tilted her head to look up at him, her heart swelling with affection. “You’re the best, you know that?”

He smiled down at her, his amber eyes warm and soft. “I try.”

The day unfolded in a series of quiet, perfect moments. With the castle nearly empty, they had the freedom to explore without worrying about running into anyone else. They spent the morning wandering the corridors, peeking into classrooms, and laughing as they pretended to give dramatic lectures at empty desks. In the library, they sat side by side at a corner table, flipping through dusty old books. Remus had found an outdated Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook and spent half an hour critiquing the absurdly dangerous suggestions it offered for handling creatures like boggarts and grindylows.

“It actually says to use fire against a grindylow,” he said, holding up the page for her to see. “Fire. In water.”

Y/N laughed, leaning closer to get a better look. “I guess they were going for dramatic flair over logic.”

Later, they wandered into the Great Hall, where the house-elves had outdone themselves decorating for Christmas. A massive tree stood at the center of the hall, its branches covered in sparkling, enchanted ornaments. A soft hum of magic filled the air, making the space feel even more magical than usual.

By the time dinner was over, the two of them were back in the common room, sitting side by side on the floor with a blanket draped over their shoulders. Snow continued to fall outside, frosting the windows and turning the grounds into a sparkling winter wonderland.

“Do you miss it?” Remus asked suddenly, his voice quiet and thoughtful.

“Home, you mean?” Y/N paused, considering his question. “Sometimes. I love my family, but… it’s just too much. Too loud, too tense. Being here is easier.”

Remus nodded, his expression pensive. “I get it. My house was always quiet, but not in a good way. Sometimes it felt like the silence was its own kind of noise, you know?”

Y/N reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his. His touch was warm, grounding her. “You don’t have to go back there either, not if you don’t want to.”

His gaze met hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them. Then, slowly, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Her chest swelled with emotion as she looked at him, the firelight dancing in his amber eyes. He was so steady, so kind, and she felt incredibly lucky to have him by her side.

As the fire crackled beside them and the snow continued to fall, Y/N felt a deep sense of contentment settle over her. It wasn’t a traditional Christmas, but it didn’t matter. With Remus by her side, it was perfect in its own way.

For the first time in a long time, the holidays felt exactly as they should—peaceful, warm, and filled with love.

[sebscore]

hi ! I love your gen z driver series so much !!

i have a request that she and zhou show up to the padock in the same outfit unplanned

like i feel this would happen - they both fancy showing up in something so different and the other would be wearing the same thing !! <3 fashion icons think the same 😌

THE HELMET BET

pairings: zhou guanyu x driver!reader / f1 grid x driver!reader 

warnings: swearing. based on the 2022 grid. mention of sexism and racism. joke about doing an orgy.

author's note: idk if this is what you had in mind, but I had already written a small part of this fic and then your ask came in and I couldn't help myself. I love zhou so much, ugh thats my man fr. also, thank you for loving the series, it means a lot to me 💞

masterlist

• • • • • • •

''We're gonna get in trouble.'' Zhou said, shaking his head. 

Y/N frowned at his words. ''Why would we get in trouble? It's always super boring and our bet can at least spice it up a little.'' She reasoned, using a lot of hand gestures to show how serious she was. 

''You know those meetings are about our safety, right? We should take them serious.'' The Chinese driver didn't want to get in hot water with the stewards. 

''But this is a serious matter! We're putting an end to the debate,'' she retorted back, not seeing the harm in using the upcoming driver's briefing for their bet, ''lately, I've been seeing way too many people saying you've got better style than me and I've had enough of it.'' 

The female driver had seen the countless online discussions between fans regarding the most stylish driver on the grid, the winner usually switching between herself, Lewis and Zhou. In her opinion, Lewis had the best style, she didn't need to think twice about it. But it is important for her to know who his successor is, who is the number 2? 

To answer that question, she had come up with a brilliant idea: her and Zhou wear their best outfit to the next driver's briefing, not some team merchandising, and they get the other drivers to vote on which outfit is the best and therefore, which person has the best style. The person with the most votes gets to design a helmet for the loser and they have to wear it at the next racing weekend. 

''Okay, I'm in,'' Zhou admitted, shaking hands to commemorate the challenge, ''be prepared to lose, Y/N.'' 

''Don't worry about me, Guanyu.'' 

Y/N was confident in her win. The young woman knows she has style, her several brand deals with high-respected fashion houses being the proof of that. However, she knew not to underestimate her rookie friend, Zhou has had some killer outfits in the ongoing season. 

They had known each other for some years, but it was only this year that the pair had gotten close. Y/N broke the ice by complimenting one of his outfits at the start of the season and the rest was history. 

The outfit she had gone with was simple, but she looked good and she felt great in it. It was inspired by one of Michael Schumacher's paddock outfits (reference), knowing she would at least have Mick and Seb's vote with that one. 

Y/N got out of her car, ready to make her way to the F1 paddock and straight to the driver's briefing. In the corner of her eye she noticed Zhou's car pull up, his performance coach waving at her through the window. She reciprocated the action and decided to wait for him, thinking it would be nice for the two of them to enter together. She was curious as to what her friend would be wearing, secretly hoping he had fumbled the bag really hard. 

Her hopes came crashing down as Zhou got out of the car, observing the clothes he was wearing and noticing one clear detail. 

They were wearing the same outfit. 

Her eyes seemed ready to bulge out of her head, in complete disbelief. ''Are you fucking kidding me, Zhou?'' 

The Chinese man appeared to be much more amused by the situation, covering his laughter with his hand. ''You look very nice, Y/N.'' He giggled, greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

''It's turned into a ''who wears it better'' challenge, what the heck.'' She commented, eyeing him up and down before glancing at her own fit. 

Zhou chuckled. ''Well either way, I'm winning.'' A small smirk appeared on his face, still sure of his win over his friend. Y/N simply scoffed, grabbing her pass from her purse and walking to the entrance. Zhou and his coach followed her steps, still entertained by her annoyance. 

As soon as the paddock reporters noticed the sight of the two drivers, their cameras were whipped out from their bags and they began taking candid shots of the pair. Zhou and Y/N played along for the cameras, pointing at each other's outfits and pretending to look annoyed. 

Eventually they made it to the right room, already seeing most of the drivers waiting inside. Zhou went in and greeted the others, while Y/N waited outside, ready to lock the door as soon as everyone had arrived and was inside. 

Lando had been the last one to walk down the hallway. ''Hurry up, Norris!'' She exclaimed, her hand motioning for him to pick up the pace. 

''Why? I'm on time.'' He replied a bit agitated, it was a bit too early in the morning for him to be scolded by his friend. 

Y/N didn't respond to him, simply pushing him into the room and locking the door, making several drivers look up from where they were sitting or standing. 

''Y/N, what are you doing?'' Sebastian spoke up, curious as to what she was up to this time. 

The young woman urged Zhou to get up from his seat and to stand next to her. The man felt a bit embarrassed, but followed her orders. Y/N stood in the place where their director normally sat when he answered the drivers' questions or listened to their concerns. She placed both her hands on the desk, looking like a teacher that was about to scold her students.

''As we all know, Mr. Hamilton over there is widely accepted as the driver with the best style,'' she pointed at Lewis, who nervously smiled as the other drivers glanced at him, ''but that's not why we are gathered here today! We are gathered here today to decide who his successor is. Who is the most stylish person after Lewis? That's a question that we will settle once and for all, here, now, in this room.'' She finished her monologue. 

''Me and Mr. Guanyu found ourselves in a battle for the title of second most stylish driver of the grid, so I challenged him. We would wear our best outfits today and have our lovely colleagues vote for who had the best one. But as you all can see, me and Mr. Dior over here, are wearing the same exact fit.'' Y/N waved her hand between herself and Zhou. 

''So, instead of you deciding who is wearing the best outfit, you'll be voting for the person you think is wearing the outfit best.'' She concluded. 

The crowd had mixed reactions: some looked confused, some seemed entertained by what Y/N had told them and others appeared to not care. 

Kevin was the first one to speak, getting up from his seat and walking towards the door. ''Y/N, this is not the time to do this, we're here to talk about the race.'' He was about to turn the lock when her voice stopped him. 

''Magnussen, you're being a party pooper- do you want to be a party pooper?'' She looked at him sternly, trying to convince him to sit back down and go along with her antics. ''Don't pretend like you're not secretly enjoying this.'' The Haas driver rolled his eyes, but defeatedly put his arms up and went back to his seat. 

''Alright, we'll go around the room and each person says either my name or Zhou's.'' She explained further, moving in front of the desk. 

Checo's hand went up in the air. ''Can we also pass?'' He asked, looking at Y/N. 

''If you refuse to choose, we will consider it sexist and racist as I am a woman and Zhou's Asian.'' She answered him, garnering chuckles around the room and a nervous-looking Zhou who hoped people took it as a joke, since he didn't want to be making enemies as a rookie. 

Y/N clapped her hands together. ''Okay, we'll start with our party pooper, KMag! Me or Zhou?'' 

''Zhou, since he didn't yell at me and didn't call me a party pooper.'' He chose, making the female driver narrow her eyes at him. ''Alright, 1 for Zhou.'' 

The person sat next to Kevin was his teammate, Mick. ''Schumacher!'' He was about to speak, but the woman interrupted him. ''Before you choose, I took inspiration from one of your dad's outfits.'' Y/N tried influencing his decision. 

''I was gonna choose you anyway.'' He told her, making her jump up as her and Zhou had an equal score. ''Thank you, Mickie.'' She smiled brightly at him. 

''Valtteri?'' 

''I choose Zhou, I'm loyal to my teammate.'' He answered, smiling at the man in question. 

''Lando?'' 

''Zhou, because he doesn't humiliate me in front of the entire internet.'' The McLaren driver said, referring to their regular back-and-forths on social media. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. ''You're such a crybaby, Rumplestiltskin.'' Her words caused Lando to give her the middle finger, but it was all in good fun. 

''Anyway, Daniel?'' 

The Australian pretended to think hard about his answer, looking in-between her and Zhou. ''I'm gonna go with Y/N, cause I'm kinda scared what she'll do to me if I don't choose her.'' His answer got a laugh out of the other drivers, some of them nodding their heads. 

Y/N herself couldn't help but break a smile at Daniel's words, happy her friend had chosen her. ''Okay, next one.'' 

The voting was nearing its end and there was a tie, 9 people had chosen Zhou and 9 others had voted for Y/N. It all came down to one person. 

Sir Lewis Hamilton. 

Despite some of the drivers' dislike for the bet at the beginning of the meeting, everyone had gotten pretty invested. ''The maestro himself has to choose his next prodigy.'' Daniel joked, looking at the 7x world champion. 

Lewis shifted in his seat, not too fond of having the last vote on the matter. ''Can't I just say both of you? The two of you look very good.'' 

''No, mate! You have to choose.'' George argued, the others agreeing with him. 

Y/N was quite sure that Lewis would choose her. She was much closer to him than Zhou and the pair had talked about fashion before, discussing how it was a great way to express yourself. She was already designing Zhou's helmet in her mind. 

''Well, then… I guess Zhou.'' 

Her mouth dropped open, shocked that the senior driver had chosen the rookie over her. She wasn't the only one that seemed surprised by his choice, Seb turned around in his seat and Pierre's eyes had widened, mouthing ''wow''. 

The young man next to her, lightly slapped her arm. ''I'll send the design to your team next week, Y/N.'' He teasingly laughed, a big smirk present on his face. 

''This is a joke, right? I can't be number 3!'' She dramatically stated. 

''Hey! What's wrong with being the number 3?'' Daniel looked up, feigning being offended by her words. 

She was about to give another monologue about betrayal and how men are all the same, but several loud knocks on the door interrupted that from happening. Y/N sighed, but took a few steps to turn the lock. 

Their director didn't look too happy. ''Why was the door locked?'' 

''We were having an orgy.'' She sarcastically answered him, not planning on explaining to him why she had blocked the door from opening. 

''Y/N!'' 

The actual driver's briefing began and soon enough most drivers were already dozing off, some of them even wishing Y/N and Zhou's bet had taken a bit longer. They wouldn't admit it to the young woman, but ever since she'd made her arrival to these briefings, her unserious antics had made them much more bearable. Some drivers had even started looking forward to the meetings, because the girl always had something up her sleeve. 

As soon as the last issue was resolved, the meeting ended and everyone was out the door. When Zhou saw Y/N talking with Mick and Esteban, he swiftly moved next to Lewis. ''Hey, man,'' he patted the Brit's shoulder, ''thanks for that, I really appreciate it.'' 

''No problem,'' Lewis smiled, ''we made a deal, I'm keeping my word.'' 

Zhou nodded. ''Yeah, you vote for me and I let you help me design her helmet.'' He recalled the promise they had made a day earlier. 

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

''Great! I was thinking we just collect all kinds of embarrassing pictures of her and plaster them all around her helmet…''

[partycatty]

johnny cage > bust your kneecaps

kenshi's sibling isn't exactly known for being the kindest, especially when things don't go their way.

warnings: violence, you're kinda yandere type... or maybe tsundere i don't know i give up. johnny's an ass and i wanna beat him up.

notes: are you seriously telling me NOBODY has written a fic for this man using "bust your kneecaps" by pomplamoose?! LIKE.

[ masterlist ]

johnny, don't leave me, you said you'd love me forever - honey, believe me, i'll have your heart on a platter

• you stepped your way into the stupidly lavish mansion, the address imprinted into your brain and throwing knife at your hip. the belt accentuated the way your hips swayed, capturing the attention of the mansion's owner.

• "where's my wife?" he asks, defensive as he puts the glass of alcohol down.

• "your wife is fine," you turn toward your brother's voice as he speaks, a scowl painting both of your features.

• "you will be too, if you cooperate," your tone is unwelcoming, threatening. "you're johnny cage, aren't you?"

• "what's it to you?" johnny's anger grows by the second, frustrated and confused about the sudden yakuza-looking blade wielders in his home.

• your hand twitches as it rests on the handle of the blade. kenshi puts an arm out, pressing you back. his glare is a silent scolding and you groan, instead opting to cross your arms than threaten the actor at gunpoint.

• "come on," johnny instigates, a beckoning hand thrown out your way. "you're too pretty to be this rude to me."

• "i'm not here for you," you spit back, and kenshi points his sword out to the blade resting just above the fireplace. "we come for sento."

• we all know the drill. before you could fight for what rightfully belonged to your clan, johnny had you and your brother tied to a chair, groaning as consciousness returns to you only to explain your intentions through a groggy tone.

• it seemed like something from a lucid dream, two ninjas and a fire god as you're tied to a chair in a celebrity mansion. it was all a blur, explained quickly before you were whisked off to an academy to fight in a tournament you had only just learned about.

• it was all ridiculous but johnny had dragged sento along with him, keeping it in his room and away from the two of you - he never knew if you'd strike at night and run off into the sunset at any given moment.

• the training itself was quite useful as you learned new styles of fighting, weapon or otherwise. you felt yourself growing bulk and inspiration for combat and attempted to log as much information into your memory, studying after lessons or practicing moves when the campus was cleared of people with the moon high.

• it started innocently enough, johnny would at first spectate you and then eventually join in for (unwelcome) advice. you tried to brush him off, you really did, but he just kept coming back like the prettiest little parasite and that irritated you beyond belief.

• before you could protest or pick up his mood shift, he was being sweet on you - which is to say, pet names, compliments, anything you figured an actor would use to get in a girl's pants. he must do this to all women, you figure, but as time passes you find yourself leaning into his words and cracking a small smile that you cover with your hand.

• you had attempted to confide in kenshi, but in his typical attitude, he just teased you for having a crush on the actor. it was a claim you vehemently denied, no matter how many times his laugh rung in your ears or feather touches made your skin burn.

• it bothered you, truly. you hated him and his stupid sexy smile, his dumb idiot muscles as they flex and ripple during training — lord help you.

• when you started to give in, it was so painfully slow anyone could've missed it. johnny, shockingly, was a good judge of character and wore his opinions on his sleeve. he picked up on it, but wouldn't say anything; he would keeping poking and prodding the bear until you admitted your shameful attraction.

• you gave in after a particularly intimate training session. not having much experience compared to the star, he noticed your tense heat radiating from your back when he wrapped his arms around you, perfecting your stance as you trained against a dummy. unable to contain the trembles of your limbs, you spun around to face him, still caged in his grasp.

• "why do you do the things you do?" you ask, brows naturally furrowed in thought.

• johnny looks at you as if you were a fool. "because i like you."

• the answer left you dumbfounded, the answer was right in front of you but you dared not entertain the thought. your eyes darted between his, searching for any hint of bad intentions, but no. his eyes were sweet and soft, gentle and understanding. it ached you.

• the walls you built up crumbled to nothing the longer you two spent time together, johnny giving you almost little room to fully adjust to a romantic relationship. beside each other it was almost comical how much you resembled a black cat golden retriever duo, a comparison the other boys were sure to make often. even liu kang was surprised by this, commenting once that this "had not happened before." whatever he meant was lost to you.

• at first, it was sweet. he cared, he truly did. johnny would go more than an extra mile for you, understanding where to fully slam the brakes or how to gently encourage you to be intimate. the entire time you were absolutely floored, willing to explore the new world of love. it didn't take long for johnny to call it that, and you followed shortly after. he loved you, only you forever, as he'd say.

• the near-armageddon was heavy on the both of you, but everyone returned in one piece and things seemed to be taking a turn toward the domestic life. this is where everything seemingly took a turn for the worse.

• johnny had insisted you moved in with him as soon as possible, citing both love and your financial connections to the yakuza to support his living conditions even after struggling with money. he'd beg with those sweet puppy eyes, and who were you to turn down the first man that's ever loved you?

• you gave him your all, trying so hard to prove your affections and figure out how to appreciate someone that isn't yourself. johnny ate it up every time, his praise making you dizzy and his little pout every time your voice wavered in hesitation.

• at the academy and sun do, it was easy to forget that he was a supposed A-List celebrity. nobody knew him, flocked for photos and attention, the camera flashing wasn't even a worry considering their lack of technology. he was a normal man with perhaps a slightly inflated ego, but a charming pretty boy nonetheless.

• when you began living in malibu, it started to become a reality for you that you were now in the trenches of fame. while you yourself weren't famous, you did technically appear from nowhere arm in arm with the actor. it didn't take long for paparazzi to camp on your lawns, parking garages, or even as you're out getting your morning coffee.

• as a former yakuza member, your entire life was in the shadows or relatively secretive. now, everyone knew everything about you and the thought made you nauseous. johnny would remind you time and time again that this is what you set yourself up for. you two had never even approached the topic beforehand.

• then came the women. johnny was a conventionally attractive man in malibu, his glittering smile and perfect appearance had women constantly screaming at him for a glance, one that he happily provided with a slight wink. going online and seeing the edits and thirsting messages made your stomach flip. he was yours, but he felt like the world's.

• you tried sitting johnny down, unable to properly articulate your problems having never discussed serious topics with a partner before. it was a foreign topic to you, dancing around your words in one place and being too blunt in the other. johnny couldn't help but look at you with a nearly condescending stare, brow raising in such a way that made you feel... small.

• "you're dating a celebrity," he stated, as if you needed a thousandth reminder. "i'm johnny cage. i may have just been another trainee when we met, but i'm one of the most prominent men in the industry. this is what you signed up for. sorry, but i can't always be yours. i love my fans, too."

• "i didn't know what i signed up for," you clarify, brows furrowing in confusion over his tone. "i thought you'd only love me." he did say it pretty early on.

• "i do," he put his hands up defensively. "i just have more than you to worry about now, sugar. can we get on with our days, now? i have a meeting with a production team in an hour."

• perhaps you didn't know what you really agreed to. fame, women, money, cars, johnny was... wow, a pompous piece of shit in the spotlight no matter how much he claimed to have changed after the events. it was like the most sickening, arrogant light switch. you swore you loved a different man.

• after you had turned away his lifestyle for the tenth time, it was a few months after moving in that he really sat you down. he sat backwards in a chair, as if it was a casual conversation. another part of his routine.

• "you're not cut out for this," he'd open with, and you're not even sure what "this" was really referring to. "i don't want to keep dragging you through a lifestyle you can't keep up with." like you were a lesser being. your mouth goes dry.

• "you said you'd love me forever." your frown is piercing.

• "feelings... change, i guess. we met in a totally different place, things are back to normal and i just can't picture us continuing like we are now. i've got so much work to do and so little time, and you want my attention. i can't prioritize one out without losing the other."

• "so you're choosing directing over me? fame?"

• "it's not like that —" he sighs, pity in his voice. "you don't belong here."

• you stand up now. "you told me we were a forever package deal. you wanted to show me the world. you wanted this, took every first i could give. what? you're done using me for what i'm worth now?"

• johnny winces. "kind of? you're... you haven't been offering up much else than complaints." your jaw truly drops now, the anger you pushed away bubbling back up to the surface.

• "you think you can just clock out?" your voice grows in volume, increasingly nasty as you picture all the ways you could make him apologize. "you don't just get to escape that easily. do you know who i am?"

• johnny states your full name with a pitiful expression. as if it means nothing. he could have tricked you into thinking that was the case if you had kept falling for his love bombing. not anymore.

• "can you relax?" his tone is laced with irritation. "you're working yourself up, just make it easier for the both of us. look, i'll even buy you a plane ticket—" he reaches for his wallet but you catch his wrist, seeing red. for the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you're a strong person, a yakuza member.

• "easy," he wants you, tone now deadly serious. "i've got cameras everywhere. if i show police you put your hands on me like that, knowing your background, it'll be bad news for you."

• a smirk pulls at your lip, twitching in anger. you lean in close, real close. "if they even get to see the footage."

• it was a pathetic assumption that johnny would be able to escape you now, you were fully intertwined with him in such a way that angered you, but made you love him more deep down. your first love isn't supposed to just pull out from your grasp, not easily anyway.

• a wrestling match ensues. he's strong and knows how to fight, you saw it yourself. you were smarter, though. you managed to grab one of his small statues and position him just right to knock him out with a light hit. he goes limp in your arms, sending you to your knees from the weight of his body. not quite satisfied that he was at your mercy, you drag him to your shared bed.

• thanks to your intimate endeavors, rope was tucked neatly in the closet. you tied his wrists to the bedposts and his ankles to the edge of the bed. while you were emotionally detached, you were still utterly enamored with his entire existence. you leaned in close, admiring the crinkle in his nose or his delicate eyelashes as they hopelessly flutter. his plush lips part to breathe shallowly, and you barely notice your hand coming up to stroke at his cheekbone. he was a beautiful specimen, a figure that's meant to be immortalized in art.

• as mad as you were, he was just too pretty to part from. you peppered kisses from his temple to his shoulder, hand feeling the fabric of his dress shirt as you lay your head on his chest. you basically cuddled him as you leaned onto the bed, half sitting in your chair still. you had to be prepared in case he suddenly awoke and went for a bite or headbutt.

• he'll wake up eventually, and when he does, you'll be right there with a blade in hand and a wicked smile pulling at your lips.

[tsukimefuku]

old regrets and guilt ridden pasts (2) ꕥ higuruma hiromi

part 1 → this part → part 3 (soon) | mdni!

summary: you get home, only to find that hiromi is there ready to talk after your failed attempt to open up about your past. he intends to confront you on that, among other things.

tags: +18!, non-explicit! sex scenes, implied smut, f!reader, established relationship higuruma x reader, little to no cursing, reader is kind of emotionally stunted, romance, mentions of death, grief, angst, fluff, hurt + comfort (a lot of comfort, this is healing).

wc: 1.8k

notes etc.: heavy spoilers for "sand and snow" readers. this might be the loveliest thing i've written to date. thank you so much @redlikerozez for betaing it 🧡 written to the sound of running up that hill (kate bush) and heart skipped a beat (the xx) - the second one is the song that inspired the main scene. as always, i write flawed characters that can (and will) sometimes be assholes, but they're trying their best.

ꕥ collection of stories: "jujutsu partners au" → masterlist for fics listed in chronological order of events

When you came inside your apartment, there were no lights on. However, from the open door to your bedroom, you could see that Hiromi was laying down on your bed, probably fast asleep by this point.

Defeated, you left your things on the table and silently got in the room, stepping inside the bathroom to wash away all the grime and dirt (and hurt) from a godawful day.

'Godawful day' is definitely a good name for having memories of people long gone stirred up and thrown at your face, reviving your grief all over again.

You were still feeling guilty for not having talked to Hiromi about it, unable to not shut him out, yet again.

Why do I keep doing this? I'm such a jerk.

Upon finishing your shower, you came back into the room, and slid yourself into comfortable clothing before laying down beside him. Hiromi had his back turned to you, but he must've felt you on the bed, because he didn't take long to roll himself on the mattress and look at you.

He seemed upset, and with good reason.

"You could have entrusted me with your pain too, you know," Hiromi began, not giving you much time to muster up anything to say. Not even a good night.

You exhaled slowly, trying to collect your thoughts around it all. This day was an absolute rollercoaster of emotions.

"For you to learn my pain, I’d have to explain it, and I just... It is hard to explain exactly what happened and remembering that day," you offered. "Aside from me, Nanami is the only one who also saw it happen."

Hiromi considered what you said for a moment, but you could see the resolute way in which he softly shook his head.

"Still. I can’t fight you every step of the way for you to let me in. I’m your boyfriend."

The word lingered in the atmosphere around you.

He was, in fact, your boyfriend. You had been dating for a while then.

"We’re supposed to share these kinds of things so that we can be there for each other," he stated, a chide with a plead for understanding, while his thumb came up to press softly against your chin.

"I… I know. I’m sorry."

And you were, truly and deeply sorry, for everything. For pushing him into going along with that stupid idea of letting you inside his domain to get rid of your cursed technique temporarily, for retreating back into yourself when things grew dire, and for not letting him in when he expressly asked you to.

"What are you so afraid of?" Hiromi asked, in earnest.

You took some time to think about his question.

What were you so afraid of, after all, that you couldn't let him in — or at least felt like it, many times? 

Then, you realized.

"I'm scared that… That you will leave me too," you began, "I'm terrified that I will have opened myself up, all vulnerable and shit, and then for some reason, I'm left alone again. That's a recurring theme in my life."

"My love, in case that ever happens, keeping me at arms length won’t make it hurt any less."

You chuckled bitterly.

"Funny you should say that. I said the same thing earlier today."

Hiromi edged himself closer softly under the covers, approaching you gently.

"It takes one to know one, right?" he offered, in a kind and loving voice.

"I guess it does," you answered with a minute smile on your face.

"So, will you let me in now?" he inquired, holding your gaze. "Please."

You knew he'd surely be aware of at least the gist of the story, due to the evidence inside the envelope he never got to open before you confessed to your brother's "murder".

Still, it was different. He had to hear you say it, tell him the whole story.

So, you inhaled deeply, ready to dive in the murky lake of your past, before proceeding.

"My brother. He was…" considering for a moment, there was no word that could really convey it. Not entirely. You settled for "everything."

A sigh.

"He was… The sun to my moon. My brother was the laughter, the joy, the silly jokes, the shoes thrown around the house, the noise, the annoyance, the smell of curry in the kitchen, the helping hand, the coming home to, no matter how dire things got."

Silence.

"And then, in one night, there was… none of him anymore. Nothing, just his cold dead body laying on the ground."

A moment that felt like ten.

"I… We were twins, and a part of me, I guess… just died with him. I don’t think I’ll ever get it back. So here I am, still living with this hole inside me, where some piece used to be. His piece."

Hiromi stayed quiet for a second, pulling your knuckles kindly against his lips.

"My sun is gone, and I'm drifting, untethered. I…" You took a heavy huff of air inside your lungs. Yet, you were still breathless, the ache weighing on your thorax like a hydraulic press.

"This grief is like a tar pit, and no matter what I do, this faceless monster just keeps sucking me under." 

Your last words dropped to the drum of a eulogy, the one you never got to do.

His palm descended lightly on your cheek as the night breeze gently brushed over the window. The room was dark, dimly lit by moonlight and streetlamps bleeding through the curtain, but it became remarkably quiet. Silent.

Cotton filled ears while the world stopped moving for a second, waiting under a muted heartbeat.

One. Two. Three. Four beats.

His gaze softened — rather than darkened — as his lips approached, all pacify, and yearning, and empathy, and commiseration. Upon contact, your eyes fluttered into a deeper dimness, letting your mind drift around, away and back again, as he began his first attempt to tether you.

You may have lost your sun, but you wouldn't keep drifting away, not anymore.

He wouldn't let that happen.

My love…

Yes?

Eyes on me.

One. Two. Three. Four beats.

Okay.

Dexterous hands pulled you back to Earth, drawing you deeper into his orbit when they fit themselves securely and unfaltering against your waist.

Warm digits kneaded over the celestial wanderer drowned in the tar pit of painful remembrance.

Your senses thickened, your pupils grew wider, and your touch found the nape of his neck, seeking the halo of his comfort.

He was always so comfortable.

Just like coming home to.

He felt at home in you, too.

Another kiss. Gentler. Kinder.

The dark against your fluttered-shut eyelids didn't steal you away from him again, though. He had placed himself firmly around you, with an inevitable gravitational pull, all understanding, warm and welcoming, with the soft press of his entire body against yours.

Your senses heightened — you smelled him, touched him, heard him, felt him. The rhythm of his breath, now softly hitched. His chest, up and down, pulsing with longing. His skin, silvery glow under the moonlight. 

Hiromi smelled…

Well, he smelled like Hiromi.

The best smell there was.

Earthly bound, finally.

His mouth, teeth, lips, all made their way to slit themselves against the edge of your jaw.

May I?

Please.

One, two, three, four beats.

A sharp exhale leaves your lips as his teeth sink against the softness of your chin, crawling up to your mouth, hot breaths mixing with one another, two stardust clouds melting together.

He bit your bottom lip and let it go, then brushed his own mouth against yours. So feathery. So delicate.

Another kiss.

You lock against each other with little to no exploration — you've walked these paths before. You do so with the soft embrace of familiarity. The velvety reassurance of known lovers.

All to the gravitational beat that surrounded you both.

You grasped each other's hands against your clothes, and gentle as could be, the fabric slowly unraveled itself from your bodies, sliding their delicate way down the floor, forgotten.

Hiromi began nosing his way down your skin, but your hands cupped his jaw, pulling him back.

A pause.

Four heartbeats.

Eyes on me, remember?

A huff, almost a laugh, and the kindest peck.

Okay, my love.

His hand made its way under the duvet, all electric, and liquid, and cold, and hot, pressing the air out of your lungs. He was happy to inhale you in, open-mouthed and muddy, as you hitched and whimpered to his rhythm.

You were quick to fall apart, undoing to him, arching your entire body. Almost losing yourself.

But he pulled you back, the other hand resting over your shoulder blades, remembering you.

Eyes on me.

As you tried descending yourself, he held you back. 

This time, it would be all about you.

Gently pulling you under, his thumbs brushed against your shoulders with tenderness. His eyes flickered with trepidation and affection, as your foreheads pressed to one another. Hiromi pushed and sunk slowly into you, hooked nose snuggled beside yours.

To say he was making love to you wouldn’t be wrong, but paled in comparison to this.

He was loving you tenderly, honestly, just so you could take some of that love he poured into you and give it to yourself, filling the gaping hole left behind by an abrupt absence. The forever and always empty seat in the front row of your life.

He pleaded internally, please, may this be enough.

He was loving you so wholeheartedly, giving you all the warmth you offered to most people but yourself, that you could’ve wept — you probably did, the dampening on his cheek brushing against yours made that evident.

"Touch me." Love me.

"Yes." I do. I will.

Hiromi tried, kind and gentle, loving this grief into vanishing, willing it into non-existence. 

My love. My whole, entire love.

But he couldn't, it was engraved in black all over your flesh, your bones, and your soul.

Each kiss while he wrapped his arms around you, tucking you underneath him, was an attempt at chipping away on your armor of pain and loss.

As he rocked your hips gently, he imprinted on your skin every inch of affection you needed to soothe yourself, but you were finding it difficult to pick up these pieces and ensemble the puzzle.

You found it hard to let all your guilt go, after all. It was already an old companion of sorts.

Drinking your voice in as you tipped over the fall, he thought for a moment, could I steal her pain away?

He'd do it in a single heartbeat if he could, if only to repay you for saving him after he had gone past the point of no return.

Some days after that, coming back to this moment, you would finally understand other people's shortcomings from a deeply personal and subjective perspective.

It was hard, after all, being forgiven without forgiving yourself.

Tag list (that I keep forgetting, sorry): @yammy-yammy-yama @g-kleran @otomesass

Reblog divider by @benkeibear

[isabel3710]

I've dived headfirst back into my old Trolls hyper fixation with the release of the third movie. So I decided to write a little something for the idea of Branch being adopted by the Country Trolls.

I was inspired by some fan art by crunchy_coookies_ on insta and @rocksibblingsau's AU and a post they've made on this idea.

I would love to turn this into a full fledged fic one day but I'm already working on another trolls fanfic plus I got some (very loose) plans for another for when I'm done. But if I every have the time to write more I'll be sure to let you all know!

-----------

A little gray trolling sat on the edge of a dusty road, a worn looking bag sitting beside him. Branch held his ankle with both hands, it throbbed with pain and he was struggling not to cry. 

A few weeks ago Branch had decided to leave his tribe once and for all, he was tired of being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Full of people who either hated him or tried to turn him into something he wasn’t. So he packed a bag full of his prized possessions and any supplies he might need and snuck out in the middle of the night. 

At first things were great! And then he left the forest and made it to this desert of a wasteland, Branch did okay at first. He was careful to ration his food and slept with a knife in his hand.

Then today Branch had gotten his foot caught in some kind of hole and now his ankle really hurt. He had tried to stand up and power through but couldn’t without pain getting to an overwhelming degree.

He sniffed and whipped at his eyes, Branch didn’t know what he was going to do. He was stuck here with a hurt leg and he had run out of food last night. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some strange clip-clop sound. Branch reached into his bag and pulled out his little knife. He was alone out here and who knew how many things out in this strange land liked to eat trolls. 

Dust had suddenly risen up into the air and got into Branch’s eyes, he tried to blink it away as the strange sound got closer and closer. When his vision had cleared he saw the figure that matched the clopping sound.

And….

It was a troll?

The troll looked like one he had never seen before, she had orange skin and red hair which did remind him of the trolls back home. But that was where the similarities ended, for she had four legs with hooves and a fluffy looking teal tail. Her clothes weren't neon or pastel colored or covered in glitter, but fairly plain looking; with a few dirt stains and patches.

The woman seemed to notice him too for she started to walk over to him, the clopping sound following her. “Hey sugar” she said, her voice sounded strange. Nothing like Branch had ever heard before. “Why’re you out here all alone?”

Branch sniffled and tried to scoot away on his bottom, dragging his injured leg along the ground. The hand holding his knife shook a bit. 

“Hey, hey” the woman said, her voice gentle. “I’m not going ta’ hurt you.” She knelt in front of him “what happened ta’ your leg?”

Something about this woman felt calming, Branch hadn’t met anyone who made him feel this way since his Grandma died. “I tripped,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “It hurts really bad.”

“I’m sure it does” the woman said “mind if I take a look?”

Branch hesitated before nodding, the woman carefully took his ankle in her hands. He winced a bit in pain but stayed still. The woman tutted softly “looks like you sprained it honey.” 

“Oh…”

She pulled out a piece of dark green cloth and tied it around his ankle. “We'll have to put some ice on it.”

“I don’t have any ice,” Branch said.

“Not to worry,” she smiled at him, “town’s not too far from here.” 

There was a town out here… “how?” He asked, “it hurts to walk.”

“Climb on my back” she said “and I’ll carry ya.” 

“Won’t that hurt you?”

She chuckled “you’re sweet, sugar, but not to worry. I’ll be fine.” The women helped Branch sit on her back before slowly standing “hold on darlin’.” 

Branch held his bag in one hand and to the women’s shirt with the other. And she began to walk, the clopping sound following them. It was then Branch realized he had no idea what this lady’s name was.

“Ms” he said “I’m sorry but… What’s your name?”

She chuckled “no need to apologize hon. I’m Ms Delta Dawn. What’s your name?”

“Branch.” He said “my name is Branch."

[romanticaacore]

This fic was inspired by the song "My Way of Life" by Frank Sinatra. I first thought of giving this to Jing Yuan because I can also see him in this theme but I couldn't resist Tartaglia. I'm just trapped under his spell. He is my whole world...!! ♥️

"You're not just going to leave me here like this, are you?"

The man would come and find you every single day and would always keep you company. You did everything in your power to keep him at bay, to throw some weak excuse that you were busy. Heavens, there were times when you would flat out tell him that you did not want to be with him.

Tartaglia was a man who appreciated honesty. He valued good and true communication, he did not have the time and patience when it came to mind games, especially when it came towards the things and people that mattered to him.

And against his better judgment, you had managed to carve yourself deep into his heart. He did not understand how or why it happened, it just did. It was cruel, how you avoided him. It felt as though you grabbed a sharp blade and stabbed him straight into his chest, the air being knocked out of lungs every single time you would reject his advances.

But what stung most of all was the fact that you were as a matter of fact, not honest with him.

He could tell that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. If you truly wished to do nothing with him, you would be much harsher towards him. He knew you were not a pushover, you could take care of yourself and yet he still wished to take care of you. The lingering touches, the longing gazes, the way in which your hand fit so perfectly in his own was otherworldly. You were made specifically for him and him only. He could not have crafted a person so perfect, someone who both satisfies and calms him.

Someone who makes him feel human.

Reaching out towards you Tartaglia took your wrist and held it close. He pressed the palm of your hand against his chest, straight against his heart and he kept you there, his blue eyes piercing your own.

You belonged to him. He belonged to you.

He cursed the fact that he was a Harbinger. If he was not in the Fatui, he was sure that the two of you would already be together. That was the only reason you avoided him, the fear of being associated with someone like him was too great.

And he could not fault you for that.

Salty tears clouded your vision as you stared at the handsome man, his back straight like the soldier that he was. Everything about him was prim and proper, but in a deadly way, like a weapon ready for the bloodiest battle.

"You are a killer." you said, voice quivering and yet still giving into his touch.

"I am." he confessed. There was no point in denying it, he could not hide anything from you.

He did not want to hide anything. Not anymore.

Standing before you was not Tartaglia, Childe, the 11th Fatui Harbinger. In this very sacred moment he laid himself for you, his soul and heart bared completely for you and no one else. He was being selfish, so horribly selfish. But damn it all, he wanted you. His ambitions were sky high but he could not give you up.

He did not want anyone else by his side. It was going to be either you or no one.

His lips hovered over your own, threatening to steal the many kisses he promised to claim a long time ago.

You were not sure if you could stop him.

"You are not a creature capable of such love."

"I can learn. For you."

There it was, that horrible confidence, dare you say arrogance even. Who did he think he is? How dare he do this to you - waltzing in your life and staking his claim to your heart? You wanted to slap him, to kick him, to show him just how angry you were. You wanted to cry and yell and to kiss him. You wanted to leave him breathless, to make him ache for you but was it worth it? To leave everything you knew, your whole life behind to go see the world with this man, this glorious, wonderful man?

Knowing him, he would take your beating without any complaints.

It was hard to be in love. But it was even harder to love a man like him.

[ellecdc]

While I don't like to spend time feeding into negativity on my page, I received a rude/aggressive comment which, though it had been sent to me anonymously, I have reason to suspect who it might have been from; so while I'm not going to broadcast it, it prompted something that I would like to remind anyone who might need it [which is truly maybe only 0.02% of you]

I have been on this app for 4 months; I have gotten hundreds [if not thousands] of asks sent to me during that time and I have always made a solid effort to respond to anyone and everyone who has taken time out of their day to reach out to me or even leave comments on my fics because it truly means the world to me

Over the past 4 months and throughout the hundred [or thousands] of asks and just as many comments and messages, I have only ever received 2 negative/rude/insulting asks - both were sent anonymously, one I had responded to and one I have blocked

And while this blog has grown bigger than I have ever imagined possible for myself and I now receive the most number of asks and requests than I ever had before, I continue to try to stay active, diligent in my responses, and enthusiastic in my chats and conversations with you all

I will admit that I have many unanswered asks in my inbox right now from a large number of my mutuals, listed anons, and many more requests that I have been saving for when the inspiration hits - I cannot respond to everyone and everything all of the time and for the most part, people have been very understanding about that

Sometimes I save chats for later when I have the headspace for it, sometimes I'll answer on the whim, and sometimes I save simple chats that I actually think would make for a good fic idea!

But it's important to note that I don't owe anyone the explanation I just gave to you all

The people that you interact with on this app are just that - people

People who have good days and bad days, people who have jobs and lives and loved ones who take precedence, and people who don't actually owe you anything

This is true whether you're a mutual, whether you're a dutiful fan, whether you're a listed anon, or otherwise - blogs don't owe you anything

They don't owe you a response, they don't owe you their time or energy, and they don't owe you their 110% every time you interact with them

I give my best to every single person I have spoken to on here, and some days my best is better than other days. Sometimes I get so excited when I'm out with friends or at work when I notice an ask from someone - mutual, anon, or otherwise - that I reply immediately because I just cannot wait to chat. This means I'm not always sitting down at my computer and able to give every single response the same amount of time or effort because I am a) busy, b) perhaps a little distracted and c) human

But I don't owe anyone that explanation either

This blog has always felt like a super niche book club filled with likeminded people who loved the same things I do, loved the same characters that I do, and who enjoyed chatting about it. It has also felt like a fun and wholesome community that I am happy to be apart of

And while I like to think that my blog is a safe space for everyone and anyone who might want to visit it; it's a safe space for me first

This blog is my space and my safe haven; you are welcome to it - but that welcome is a privilege, not a right - and I am not obligated to cater it to you

Like I said, I have only ever received two rude asks, but even though 99.98% of my messages are positive, the negative ones feel the loudest

Please think before you send criticizing asks to any blog; the 'saddest' thing of all is being both cowardly and cruel to people you don't know

& again, as always, thank you all for being here with me 🫶

-L

[longlivedelusion]

Hii, I saw you were doing requests for Marauders era things... Would you be keen to do a jegulus fic? would love to see them with a neurodivergent reader or something 💞 thank you !!! Ok if not comfortable

Thank you for your patience anon, if you're still around! Inspiration finally struck as I'm currently working through my own processes with my neurodivergent & mental health things. So I felt like what better time than now to write some fic therapy? Hope you enjoy! 🤍

The Art of Trying

Warnings: some angst and miscommunication. Good ending tho. My own personal portrayal of how neurodivergency shows up for me 🤍 but I know it's a spectrum for everyone. I'm no expert, just a human existing and trying.

James knew your routine well. He'd even adjusted some of his own so it could match up with yours well, which luckily didn't take too much effort given you were both early risers. Regulus, however, was the night owl of the three of you. He only woke up well after James and you had finished your morning tasks, and would work around the house quietly at night. But despite this, you'd all found a peaceful compromise in your daily lives so that this relationship could be at its absolute best. Thriving, he would say.

That was until Regulus got a new job that required him to be out by 8am. Which meant, a change in how you all lived and did things.

For James, the change was easy. He thrived with more people around, and waking up at the same time as his other partner felt like heaven. But for you... He knew this was a lot harder on you than you were admitting.

It started off fine, you also enjoyed the extra kisses and cuddles the first day, the second even. But James could tell that as you settled down after the excitement, the reality must have set in because you stopped making eye contact with them on the third day. Avoided their touches on the fourth.

By the end of the week, your voice turned cold.

"Can I please have some room." You mumbled out with a bit of an edge. Your body sliding carefully by Regulus's but not touching him. Reggie was making breakfast, some sort of omelette situation, but that meant there was cutting boards and cheeses and utensils all around and no space.

James was sitting at the breakfast nook with his coffee, reading over the Daily Prophet when he perked up at the tone.

"Of course darling," Regulus said, wand out immediately as he tidied up. "Apologies for that. Would you like an omelette?"

You grabbed your usual bowl, your yogurt, not even looking up to answer. "No thanks." You grabbed your things, saying a quick have a good day before you left for the bedroom and closed the door shut.

Now Regulus had been aware you were having a hard time adjusting, they'd anticipated it even. So he tried his best to accommodate your needs, but at the same time he had his routines as well. And he struggled the same, if not differently from too many changed to his own routine. James could tell the cold and distant attitude was affecting Reggie now as well, despite how patient he tried to be.

"Reggie y'alright?"

"No, James. I am not alright." Reggie sighed. "I feel like as if walking on glass, and by the time I get to work my day feels ruined. They barely looks at me, barely talks. Anything I do I feel as if it's wrong and I cannot- I don't want to shut her out. I don't want to shut down." He took a shaky breath in.

James was up in a moment, wrapping Regulus up in his arms. "I know, I know." He paused, focusing on easing his partner while he thought. "Maybe it's time we talk about it again, yeah? I know we discussed the change before, but it's obviously affecting them and you both more than you expected."

Regulus sighed as he rested his head on James' chest. "I suppose your right. I miss them, James."

James' heart cracked, "I know baby, but we can fix it yeah? This is fixable."

James felt Reggie nod on his chest. "Yeah," he mumbled.

He pulled Regulus back by his arms, "Would you rather talk to them now or after work?"

Reggie paused before letting out a breath. "Now, please."

He nodded and took Reggie's hand into his own, making their way to your bedroom as James knocked on the door. "Lovely?"

"Yeah?" He heard you mumble from within.

"Can Reggie and I come in for a moment?"

There was a long pause, an obvious tell on your end that you were aware that there would be a conversation happening. He gave you space to mentally preparing, waiting until eventually you let out a soft "Sure."

As James opened the door, they found you with your bowl empty and your tea forgotten, instead your back sat straight against your bed while you twisted your fingers in the top sheet.

"What's up?" You said in a forced nonchalant tone. He noticed your gaze focus on their interlocked hands.

"We just wanted to check in for a bit. Mind if we sit?" James said.

You nodded and the boys moved to the space across from you as an awkward silence filled the air. Your hands kept twisting at the sheets nervously until you'd notice and stop. Then just started up again.

"We've noticed you've been shutting down more lately, and we're just wanting to see how you're feeling if that's alright." James started.

Your faced dropped into a mix of guilt and sadness. "I'm... Adjusting."

"We know these things take time, of course." James placated, noticing Reggie's own guilt and frustration reflecting back in his face now. He squeezed his hand. "But you haven't really talked to us much since the change in schedules, and it feels a bit like you're shutting us out is all. We're worried."

You chewed on your lip, eyes glancing about as you thought. Not once landing on them.

"I just- I'm having uh... Hard time with. The difference." You managed out.

James nodded. "How so?"

"The sounds, the space, it's... Just different. And I feel myself getting frustrated and I don't wanna get mad at you guys because it's my brain, not you. You're not doing anything wrong. So I stay as long as I can, but it's just getting harder and I-" you choked out as you crashed your head onto our palms. "I just don't wanna take it out on you, I'm sorry. I don't know how to deal with this yet."

Reggie spoke up then, his voice calmer as his hand reached out to touch the fabric in front of you. "Darling, look at me please."

You lookes up warily as Regulus scooted closer, leaving James' side. "May I?" He asked, his palm up.

You placed your hand in his.

"It's not easy, when it feels as if our brains are working against us." Reggie started. "It's as if we are not cut out for the world and the world was not made for us. We may not be able to control how our brain interprets or how our body reacts, but we can choose and train ourselves to do the best we can. To try."

Regulus's hand reached up slowly to touch your face, giving you time to pull away if you so chose. "I want to try. I don't want my own inside rules to stop me from loving you the way that I want. The way you deserve." He paused and took a deep breath in and out. "But I also need you to trust me. To talk to me. This morning, yesterday, I-"

James put a supportive hand on Regulus's shoulder. Regulus seemed to struggle with his words, so James gladly chimed in. "We just want to support you as best as we can, but we also need to make sure we're all good too. And the only way to do that is if we talk about it. Are you okay with that lovely?"

You nodded, but kept your gaze down. "I'm sorry, I know this is a lot and I genuinely wish I knew how to deal with this better. Communicate better. I'm not... I'm not gonna be perfect at it. It may come out wrong."

Regulus tilted your now tear stained face up. "It doesn't need to be perfect. Just try, okay? And I will too. I most definitely do not say the right things always, nor do I express myself very well. Yet you've always been patient and non judgmental of it. Can you trust me to be the same?"

You held his gaze, doubt blooming behind your eyes. "I trust you I just-"

"Have been hurt by plebians before who couldn't deal with honest communication," Regulus finished.

You looked down at that and nodded slightly.

"We don't want you to be perfect," James supplied. "We just want you. As you are, as youve always been. That's all we want."

You met his gaze and reached your hand out to James. It's like his body could finally relax, touching you. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you guys about it. That I just shut you out."

"S'alright lovely. We get it." James said. "Maybe this is something to talk about with your therapist yeah?"

You nodded, "Yeah, I haven't seen her in a while. Probably should."

James couldn't help but smile at you, at how much he knew that phrase alone took you ages to get even comfortable saying. Going to a therapist and finding one you trusted. He couldn't help but feel himself fill with pride.

Regulus's voice suddenly broke the comfortable silence. "Well I also get it, but it wasn't alright. I've had to deal with work and life all without your cuddles and I've been quite remiss to be honest." James could swear a sort of pout apparated on Regulus's face as he spoke and then disappeared just as quickly.

James sees the slight amusement trace your lips, but you surprise him when you speak with such a deep sincerity and vulnerability instead. "I'm sorry Reggie. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

Regulus nodded before you leaned in for a quick kiss. Then turned to place one on James as well.

"Well! I don't know about you but that just gave me all the energy I needed today," James said with the biggest smile on his face.

You laughed, a beautiful laugh, at the same time Reggie scoffed but didn't disagree. He even went to kiss you again.

James knew that things might come up again, that it's wasn't all solved. But you loved each other, trusted each other, and that was enough.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I really really loved the Asexual!Tav x Astarion fic. I felt so seen. I have read my good share of smut (there is no shame in a good smut fic, even as an ace) but this? This made me feel so many things. I loved it. As for the oneshot/headcanon ideas... Maybe Asexual!Tav wanting to find something sexy to wear for themselves (because damn right, ace people can wear sexy clothes and look amazing doing so) or just Tav and Astarion being silly together. But! Don't feel obligated to write about these! I just wanted you to know that this fic... I have never went to Ao3 so fast to read the last chapter.

Thank you so much! I can't tell you how much it warmed my heart to real this. It genuinely means a lot.

These are both great prompts which I would love to get too eventually. I don't have it in me to write a one-shot right now, but I will gladly spew some random Asexual!Tav and Astarion being silly together.

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Okay, I feel like I need to say it, but after Ace!Tav and Astarion are officially together the flirting only gets worse

Like before there was an agenda; Astarion was testing the waters of their interest while Tav was playing along, enjoying the attentions while not wanting to give a fully false impression

Now with the air clear they're free to flirt because it's just fun

There are no expectations except to make the other laugh or possibly blush

It drives the rest of the party insane

Astarion: If you're looking for inspiration my love, you can always write me a sonnet; something about my eyes shining like diamonds in the moonlight. Tav: Cliche and over done. Besides, how could I compare them to anything less than the brightest ruby illuminated by dragonfire. Astarion: Oh, do go on.

Also feel the need to clarify that this Tav grew up on the streets and so has come to the conclusion that stealing from the rich is okay

They have very willingly played to a crowd of merchants, allowing for Astarion to rob them blind

Astarion: *presents them with a necklace* Tav: Please don't tell me you spent money on this. Astarion: Not at all. I got it at a wonderful five finger discount. Tav: In that case, I accept.

If they ever attend a party and Ace!Tav isn't performing, you can find them near the buffet table

I've said before in previous headcanons, I don't think Astarion is one for dancing; he's become more open to it after he and Tav get together, but there is a difference between a private lesson with his love and being in public

This leads him to make the rounds gathering as much gossip as he can before reporting back to Tav

Meanwhile Tav, once starving bard/artist, will never turn down free food and will stay planted at the buffet table the entire night; plus you know the best gossip comes from the wait staff

Basically they're a couple of messy bitches who are obsessed with the tea and yes are, in fact, talking about you

That all being said, Tav is still the moral compass; help kids when you can, only steal from those who can afford it, avoid murder if possible etc, its the pettiness they indulge it

Certainly they're a theatrical couple, prone to distracting banter and petty theft, but it's plain enough to see how deeply they care about each other

[brummiereader]

Hi everyone, this is my first time posting and my first time writing a fanfic. But here I am, inspired to write something after reading so many amazing Peaky Blinders fics on here. This is a bit of an out there story, think Peaky Blinders meets time travel, supernatural themes, the modern world, gypsy magic and very unusual circumstances to the start of a relationship. A quick thank you again to @cillmequick for proof reading my story and giving me the courage to post it.

A Ghost Of A Man (PART ONE)

Summary: Reader discovers a curious looking folder full of information on a Small Heath gang from the 1900's. After digging for more information she encounters someone or something in an abandoned building.

Warnings: Language, supernatural themes

Growing up close to Birmingham you had always felt drawn to the famous west midlands city. So drawn to it that you decided to enrol in the history course Birmingham University had to offer. You had a passion in particular for local history and books, you knew so much about the city, and one day you hoped to work in its biggest library. But it was not only history you had a passion for but also antiques. You would often visit small antique shops around the city, certain objects catching your eye, taking them home, then spending countless hours researching the object trying to find out the history behind it. You had quite the collection of items now, taking up the majority of space in your flat that you shared with your friend. Your friend Louise was also a student in history, you met Fresher's week at Uni, and after getting along so well you both decided to ditch student accommodation and rent out a flat together in and old house just outside Birmingham city center. You called it a flat because you didn't know what else to call it. It was more of a converted attic in an old house, the ceilings were low and the floorboards creaked no matter where you stepped but it was worth it, worth it for the vast view of old rooftops with their decaying chimneys, and the remnants of buildings from Birmingham's industrial past that seemed to go on as far as the eye could see. You would often find yourself sitting in the large armchair that occupied the spot next to the small round window in your bedroom, gazing out at the bricked buildings you wondered what life was truly like a hundred years ago in this city. You would get so lost in your thoughts looking out the window that you would often get this overwhelming feeling like you were not supposed to be here, you were living a life that was yours but in the wrong era, it was overpowering at times. You always put it down to your passion for the past and your longing to experience life in a different time. But was it?

It was Sunday, a day you enjoyed the most. Why? Because it was the day you would drag your friend to the antique markets. She loved history but was baffled why a 20 something year old girl would love old dusty smelly objects that in her opinion were better of in the bin.

"Come on Louise, please?"

"Jesus Y/N, don't you have enough old crap?"

" Erh no never...plus I have been waiting for this particular antique fair all year, everyone's hyped for it"

"Hyped for it? Do 70 plus year olds get hyped for things?" Your friend asked with a laugh.

" I'll have you know there are plenty of younger people that go to these markets, it's quite boujee nowadays to decorate your place with little antique nick nacks here and there"

" Boujee" She laughed "fine but you owe me a coffee and the biggest slice of cake available. Why is this one so special compared to the hundreds of others we go to every year?" She said trying to hide her laugh.

" Well...this antique fair will probably never happen again, its only antiques collected from one particular area of Birmingham, Small Heath"

You saw the flyer for the event on your way to Uni one day. After checking online for more information you knew you couldn't miss it, it was a one off event. Apparently the building everything had been stored in for over a hundred years had been brought by property developers and they wanted to get rid of it all, and quickly. The collection was supposed to be sold off to a museum but when the museum decided they no longer wanted to buy the lot of items it was left to collect dust, now everything had to go. Online it stated that there would be all sorts of items from local businesses to household items, clothes, jewelry, books, old newspapers, documents and furniture. You had to go.

Living in Sparkhill not far from Small Heath you decided to take public transport. After a short bus ride you made it to the antique fair. It was already pretty busy and much to your friends amusement you was indeed the only ones attending that weren't over the age of 60.

" Don't say anything" you mumbled to her.

" Are you sure your not from a different century? " She laughed.

Rolling your eyes grumbling to yourself you started to browse the tables. You was amazed at how well preserved everything was. There was everything you could think of for sale, a lot of it out of your price range but you couldn't help but lose yourself looking through it all.

" Y/N, come look at this old pub stuff" your friend called over.

" The Garrison? Do you think that was the name of the pub" you said looking at a large wooden plaque with the name written across it.

" Must be... Ooh! look at these old whiskey glasses, how much are these? She asked the man behind the table.

" For a set of four, 10 quid love"

" You don't even drink whiskey" you leaned into her and whispered.

"I'll take them. She nodded to to the seller. " Well I can put some Bailey's in them, that's close enough right?"

Shaking your head laughing you wandered off to the next stall. Bending down looking into a box you saw some old documents in a paper folder tied together with a red string "The Peaky Blinders ".

" Can I open this ?" you asked the woman.

" Go ahead darling" she nodded.

Opening it up you came across newspaper articles, business documents, police reports and one name In particular that kept popping up, Thomas Shelby. Quickly skimming over an article It talked about a razor gang called the Peaky Blinders based in Small Heath and the leader of that gang was one Mr Thomas Shelby. You were intrigued.

" How much for everything?" You asked.

" For you my lovely 20 pound"

A little pricey you thought, considering you could probably find all this information for free at the Sparkhill library you worked part time at but these were the original documents and newspaper clippings so you decided to go ahead and buy them.

"What did you find?" your friend asked while looking through some old books.

" This old folder about a razor gang that used to operate around here in the early 20th century"

" Riveting" She laughed.

" Ha.ha, I thought it would be a good idea for our latest Uni assignment"

" When our lecturer told us to pick a prominent figure that helped in the building of Birmingham's industrial and economical past I don't think he ment a razor gang Y/N" she laughed.

" It's still interesting though, could be a different take on the assignment? From what I have read so far this Thomas Shelby sounds like a dangerous man"

" I guess it is, if you like bad boys right?" She giggled linking arms with you as you both continued to look through the stalls.

"Wow Louise look at this necklace" you said as you beckoned your friend over with your hand.

"That's beautiful Y/N, you should get it"

The necklace itself was a small gold locket, turning it over there was the engraved initials M.S.

"I wonder who M.S was?" You asked your friend.

"Don't know" she said brushing her thumb over the engraving" but I'm sure with your research skills you will find out"

You continued to look at the locket, you tried opening it but it appeared to be jammed. Just as you was examining the locket for any damage an older lady appeared next to you. Her hands were adorned with rings and she had a curious looking necklace hanging around her neck, noticing you looking at it she spoke to you.

"It's the black Madonna" she said pressing the palm of her hand on it smiling to you. "It keeps me safe".

"It's beautifull, I've never seen anything like it" you said looking at her. She looked familiar, but you couldn't figure out where you had seen her before.

"You should get that" she said putting a friendly hand on your arm.

"Sorry?" You replied confused.

"The gold locket" she said opening your clasped hand around it. "It belongs with you" she said as she closed your hand around it again.

"I'm sorry, have I met you before? You look so familiar" you said as her piercing blue eyes looked deep into yours.

Shaking her head she smiled sweetly. "Maybe we knew eachother in another life"

Smiling back you opened your hand and looked at the locket nestled in your palm. She was right it did feel like it belonged to you, you couldn't explain it, you was drawn to it.

"I think I will get it" you said to the seller.

Turning to face the old lady, she was still looking at you, when you noticed a small tear in the corner of her eye.

"Thank you for convincing me, I'll treasure it" you said, slightly worried that you had upset this dear old lady somehow.

Patting your arm she turned and walked away giving you one last endearing smile.

"Who was that?" Asked your friend

" I don't know, but I feel like I know her from somewhere" you said your eyes following her as she disappeared through the market.

You continued looking through the antique fair for another hour, nothing else catching your eye you both decided to go have some lunch.

A few hours later you arrived back home. Going straight to your bedroom, you looked at your new locket and decided to try it on. It sat perfectly in the middle of your chest, you smiled at yourself in the mirror slightly adjusting it to make it straight. Sitting on your bed you opened up the folder you brought and started to read through everything.

How had you never heard of this gang? You thought to yourself. You knew almost everything about Birmingham's past. These documents looked official though, like someone was collecting information on them. Maybe they were never ment to be seen by anyone. Which begged the question how did they end up in a box at an antique fair? Feeling tired and overwhelmed with information you closed the folder deciding to research through the archives at work tomorrow.

The next day at work on your break you logged onto your computer. Clicking on archives you started typing key words into the search bar. Peaky Blinders, Birmingham razor gang, Shelby family, Small heath gang, Watery lane betting shop, Shelby company limited, Thomas Shelby. But nothing, nothing came up. One last go you thought to yourself, and you typed T.Shelby. There was one link, a death certificate. Clicking on it, you realised it was a death certificate for Thomas Michael Shelby born January 1890 death February 1922 Small Heath, Birmingham. It didn't state how he died, but mentally calculating his birth date and death date you realised he died pretty young. You was so intrigued by this gang, if you was going to use them for your assignment you needed to know more. Slightly frustrated with the lack of anymore information, you decided to dig deeper.

"Janette?" You said calling over to your boss." Will you do me a huge favour?" You said with pleading eyes.

"What do you need now?" she said as she crossed her arms with a slight chuckle.

"Can I have access to the Birmingham Journal newspaper archives"

"What year?"

"1922"

"We should have them upstairs in the storage room, but first things first are you going to tell me what your looking for?" your boss asked curiously.

"I'm doing research on this gang for Uni, the leader Thomas Shelby died in 1922 but on his death certificate it doesn't say how, don't you find that weird?"

"It's not that unusual, if he was part of a gang the authorities would have probably tried to cover it up, I mean I wouldn't be surprised if the police were on his payroll" she laughed raising her eyebrows. "Go on then, just be careful those books are very old, we really need to photocopy them onto the online database, I've told Richard plenty of tim..." She trailed off as she walked away still talking to herself.

Up in the storage room you was losing hope, you had already gone through two very large books filled with news articles from 1922. Pulling out the the third book from the shelf you let out a big sigh. Turning to the first page the article talked about an Italian gang and a man called Darby Sabini "wrong gang" you huffed. Ten pages later at the bottom corner of a newspaper was a short article. " Birmingham gang leader from small heath killed by rival gang". This has to be it you thought. It didn't specify it was the Peaky Blinders gang, but how many other gangs could there have been in Small Heath? It stated that... "The leader of the notorious Small Heath gang had been beaten within an inch of his life in an alleyway by a rumoured rival Italian gang, and was later found dead slumped in his office chair". You sat back in your chair sighing "Jesus Christ, what a way to go" you said aloud. He must have made his way back to his office, and died right there at his desk you thought. Curious you decided to find out where his office was located. After a few minutes of searching you found it on the online property census under the name "T.S Offices". It was close to the city center not far from Small Health. Checking the bus route online you realised the bus to his office passed right by Watery Lane.

Looking up at the clock, only 10 minutes left untill the library closes you said to yourself. Tapping your pen on the desk, fiddling with your new gold locket you was getting agitated, was you really going to do this? It was a pretty morbid thing to do, visiting the place where someone had died, but you had invested so much time into knowing about this man's life. You knew who his family was, that he served in the first world war, that he had an illegal betting shop heck you even knew where he brought his suits from, although you questioned if he actually brought them. You had read everything in that folder you found at the antique fair, tried to find anything on the online databases, you needed a conclusion to his story.

Finally it was five o'clock, packing up your things and turning off the front desk computer you hurried out the library waving goodbye to your colleagues. Walking to take the bus it finally occured to you that the office building was probably no longer there or had been converted into a block of flats. Stopping you started to turn around away from the bus stop, this was stupid, what was you doing you thought to yourself. Then you stoped again walking back to the bus stop then turning around again you walked away, you must have looked like a mad woman to anybody passing by. With a huge huff you psyched yourself up and headed back to the bus stop just in time for the bus. After a ten minute ride you arrived at your stop.

" Excuse me, excuse me!" You waved over to an elderly man on the opposite side of the road.

" I'm trying to find the old T.S offices? "

" Just around the corner love" he pointed to his right

" Thanks" you shouted back heading in that direction.

Turning the corner, you was now on a long road, each side of you were tall red bricked buildings. The direction to Thomas Shelby's office was down that very same street and then as you turn the corner on the left hand side it should be there. Walking down the street a strange feeling came over you, you thought about turning back until you came to the end of the road and saw it. It was still there, the building was still there, you couldn't believe it. It looked completely abandoned, a few windows smashed in and tall metal gates surrounding it with a sign saying "Keep out. Private property". Without even thinking you opened the bottom of the two metal gates being held together with a large metal chain and padlock and slid between them. It was pretty obvious others had been here before, a few beer bottles lying on the grass and some graffiti on the large wooden front door. You pushed with as much force as you could and opened the door. Stumbling in you first came across a large wooden staircase, on your left was an empty room so you decided to head up stairs. As you got to the top the first thing you noticed was that there was still some old furniture, desks facing opposite eachother, one even having an old type writer still on it. Paper was scattered all over the old floorboards and the paint on the walls was chipped and falling off. Picking up one of the papers it read at the top "Shelby Company Limited", you was definitely in the right place.

At the end of the room was a large door, that had to be his office you thought. Making your way over to the door that uneasy feeling started to creep up again, swallowing it down you opened the door. Inside was a large wooden desk and chair, walking over to the desk you brushed your fingers along the back of the leather chair. "Jesus Christ, it's cold In here" you whispered closing your cardigan around you. The windows were not broken in here though, why was it so cold? It was mid January, but wasn't a particularly cold day. Standing facing the window you exhaled out a breath of condensation. Rubbing your arms trying to warm yourself up, you looked down and noticed another piece of paper, it looked like a letter and was signed in hand "Thomas Shelby". Picking it up you sighed " So this is where you took your final breath Thomas Shelby".

Folding up the paper and putting it in your pocket you started to smell something strange a mix of tobacco and what you thought was whiskey. What the fuck you thought to yourself. Then you realised...shit, your not alone. You hadn't turned around from the window since picking up the letter, and you knew that when you would, you'd come face to face with the other person in this room. Slowly turning around your eyes on the floor, with your hands raised up shaking you spoke "I'm sorry...i'm sorry, I kno...know I shouldn't be in here". Your eyes still on the floor you was now facing the doorway, slowly lifting your gaze you noticed two black boots stood in-between the door frame, a long black coat resting against each side of the figures legs. As your eyes moved up you noticed the dark figures hands in their trouser pockets and a gold pocket watch chain attached to their waistcoat. Shaking you finally looked straight ahead of you, and there was a man with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a peaked cap shadowing his face. As he looked up his pale almost sickly white face came into your vision, a look of pure anger and malice spread across his face. His piercing pale blue eyes stared deep into yours, until in a dark deep husky voice he spoke...

"Who the fuck are you?"

NEXT PART