#couldn't find an english source

[aapokriff]

"When Beata Halassy discovered that her stage 3 breast cancer had returned despite having undergone a mastectomy, she couldn’t bring herself to go through another brutal round of chemo.

The expert infectious disease researcher, now 53, decided to take matters into her own hands, using her decades of virology expertise to create and inject an experimental vaccine directly into the tumor in her chest.

Dr Halassy knew that her DIY experiment ran the risk of a deadly blood clot forming in her lungs or causing a different, unforeseen fatal reaction. But, miraculously, it was a success and she has been cancer-free and in remission for four years.

Dr Halassy designed her vaccine cocktail at her lab at the University of Zagreb in Croatia."

pretty cool if you ask me...

[adhd-merlin]

Excerpt from The Game of Kings:

It turns out that Merlin is more strategically minded than Arthur ever gave him credit for. He still loses more than he wins—but, sometimes, he wins.

“King, queen, knight…” Merlin says, placing each piece on its square. “Why no sorcerer, you think?”

Their eyes meet over the board. Merlin’s are almost serious, despite the lightness of his tone.

READ ON AO3

[electrosquash]

Follow the news. The Folkwang Museum's cancelling of Anaïs Duplan's exhibition (and still profiting from his work) is not the only institution overreacting preemptively in light of the current crackdown of israel-critical voices on a slippery slope to fascism.

These developments didn't just start with Hamas' attack on Israel of Octobre 7th:

But the political landscape is using its performative solidarity with Israel to restrict fundamental rights more and more especially with the rightwing parties heating up the migration debate again and the Ampel dropping all semblance of a backbone. And they aren't nearly done - keep in mind the upcoming elections where everyone wants a piece of AfD's fascism pie as they are projected to reach majority in three states.

[depoteka]

i may have years of education (including uni) but i will never overcome my greatest fear which is: native english speakers

[rpgmakerds]

SOMEONE POSTED THE REST OF THE CHOU SHOUNEN TANTEIDAN NEO ENGLISH DUB (excluding episodes 10,11, and 4) AS WELL AS EPISODES 7 AND 6 OF THE SUB ONLINE!!!!! IM SO HAPPYYYY

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　SLEEPLESS NIGHT

spencer reid x reader

SUMMARY: Where Spencer finally has a night to sleep at his apartment with his girlfriend, but the current case doesn't even let him close his eyes, leading him to study the files until ungodly hours. But who said that Y/N can sleep away from him?

WARNING: Slightly mention of age gap (reader is still in college), tooth rotting fluff.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Spencer hated bringing work home, and he had two very specific reasons for it. First, he loathed the idea of mixing his work life with his personal life. The BAU was a constant source of darkness; gruesome crimes, twisted minds, and the unrelenting pressure to solve the unsolvable.

His home was the opposite: a place of light and warmth, a refuge from the horrors that haunted him on a daily basis. But more importantly, home was where Y/N was. She was the one person who could pull him from the depths of his thoughts, her mere presence offering a calm that he couldn't find anywhere else. She was his life, his anchor, and his sanctuary.

Their time together was sacred, especially with the demands of his job taking him away so often. Whether he was chasing unsubs across the country or spending endless hours poring over case files at the BAU, being away from Y/N was the hardest part of his job. When he was home, he wanted to be fully present, to make up for the time he lost while he was away.

He cherished the quiet moments, the lazy evenings where they could simply exist together without the weight of the world bearing down on him. He wanted to give her every ounce of his attention, to make her feel just how much she meant to him.

But then, there were nights like tonight, when the case followed him home despite his best intentions, forcing him to divide his focus in a way that always left him feeling guilty.

The bedroom was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, filtered through the sheer curtains that hung over the windows. The clock on the nightstand read 2:37 AM, its gentle green glow a quiet reminder of how late it had become.

Spencer lay on his back, his eyes trained on the ceiling, though his mind was far from still. It raced, chasing the loose ends of the case, replaying details, searching for the missing link that could unravel everything. The unsub was smart, meticulous in his planning, calculating in his movements. It was unnerving, the way this case was so close to home, right here in Quantico.

Hotch had granted the team a rare night to return home and rest, knowing the work would pick up again with relentless intensity in the morning. Spencer knew he should be grateful for the chance to sleep in his own bed, to hold Y/N close, and let her warmth lull him into rest. But sleep felt impossible.

Beside him, Y/N slept soundly, her body curled against his. One arm rested across his chest, her hand fisting tightly the fabric of his white shirt and her hand tucked beneath his shoulder, as if even in sleep, she sought him out. Her breathing was soft and even, the slow rise and fall of her chest a soothing rhythm against his side.

Spencer turned his head slightly, watching her. She looked peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, the faintest hint of a smile still lingering on her lips, probably remains of a dream. His heart clenched with love, a wave of warmth and tenderness washing over him.

With a soft sigh, Spencer slid his right arm beneath her, his hand resting gently on her back, the warmth of her skin seeping through the fabric of the sweater she wore - his sweater. He brought his other hand down to her bare leg, carefully shifting her until her right one draped across his thighs, her body instinctively curling closer to him, almost laying fully above him.

His fingers trailed softly along her thigh, the smooth skin warm beneath his touch. The gesture was soothing, grounding him in the present moment, in the feel of her against him. His thumb stroked lazy circles on her flesh, his touch light and reverent, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of her - as if he already didn't had each part of her craved inside his head.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment as he breathed in the familiar, comforting scent of her hair. It was a mixture of her shampoo and something uniquely hers, a scent that had always brought him comfort. His lips brushed against the delicate skin of her closed eyelids, another kiss pressed to her temple. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake, her hand tightening its grip on his shirt.

His right hand traveled across the fabric of his sweater, slipping below it, his fingertips sliding higher, brushing against the bare skin of her back. She was so warm, her skin so soft, and the feel of her made something inside him settle, if only for a moment. He continued to stroke her thigh with one hand, his other one gently massaging the muscles of her back, feeling the way her body relaxed further into him.

He stared at her for a long moment, his mind flickering between her and work. He didn’t want to leave her alone in bed, didn’t want to let it drag him away from her. Spencer knew Y/N deserved a good night's sleep more than anyone. She had been tirelessly studying for her college finals, always the most academically involved and dedicated in her class, which caused her to staying up late, buried in textbooks and research papers - just as he spent sleepless nights away on cases.

But even as he held her close, the details of the case gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, refusing to be ignored.

With a reluctant sigh, he carefully began to shift, his movements slow and deliberate, not wanting to disturb her. His hand on her thigh slid away, and he gently eased her leg off his hips, tucking it back beneath the blankets. She mumbled softly in her sleep, her body instinctively moving toward his warmth even as he slipped out from under her.

Spencer sat up, pausing for a moment as he watched her stir. Her hand reached for him in her sleep, her face burrowing further into his pillow as if searching for his scent. The sight made his chest tighten with both affection and guilty.

With one last glance at Y/N, Spencer stood, moving with the quiet precision of someone who was used to slipping away in the dead of night. He padded silently out of the bedroom, the soft sound of his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath his feet.

The apartment was shrouded in a heavy, comfortable darkness, the only sound breaking the quiet being the distant hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. Spencer moved with practiced silence, stepping lightly through the familiar space until he reached the small room they’d turned into a makeshift office. It was cluttered with his books, scattered papers, and, more recently, case files.

He flicked on the desk lamp, casting a soft, amber glow across the cluttered desk. His movements were slow, careful not to disturb the serene quiet that enveloped the apartment as he sank into his chair, rescuing his folded glasses from between all those papers.

In front of him lay the case file, the photographs of the victims staring back at him as if mocking his inability to piece it all together. He scanned the reports for what felt like the hundredth time, his brow creased in thought, eyes darting over the details.

Minutes bled into an hour, maybe more. His glasses had slipped halfway down his nose as he leaned in closer to the desk, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the outline of the crime scene photos. His other hand tugged at the cuff of his pajama sleeve, lost in the rhythm of his restless thoughts.

Just then, the sound of soft footsteps padding across the wooden floor reached his ears, the faint shuffling of bare feet snapping him out of his thoughts. He barely turned in his chair before he saw her; a sleepy, disheveled Y/N standing in the doorway, her figure backlit by the faint glow of the hallway light. The sleeves of his sweater were falling over her hands, causing her shoulders to become exposed, and her eyes were heavy with the remnants of sleep.

"Spence..." She mumbled, her voice raspy and thick with drowsiness. The sight of her tugged at his heart in the most tender way.

Spencer’s face softened instantly, guilt creeping in at the edges of his thoughts. He’d woken her.

"Hey, sweetheart." He murmured, pushing the file aside and giving her his full attention. His voice was quiet, filled with concern. "What are you doing awake? You should be asleep."

Y/N blinked at him, the bleariness in her eyes making her seem even smaller and more vulnerable. She swayed slightly on her feet, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand.

"I woke up... and you weren’t there." She slurred softly, taking a small step toward him, her expression confused and sleepy.

His heart clenched at her words, a wave of guilt washing over him. He hated that he’d caused her to wake up, especially on a week that she spent too much time studying and having little to no rest. He adjusted his posture above the chair, motioning her closer with gentle hands, but Y/N was already moving on her own, shuffling across the room with slow, sleepy steps, her gaze never leaving him.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, dove." He whispered as she reached him. He reached out with his hands as she practically fell into his arms.

She pushed his arms open with little effort and maneuvered herself onto his lap, pressing against him as if seeking out the warmth she’d missed. Her legs straddled his thighs, her knees resting above the sides of the chair, her body curling around his like a koala hugging a tree. The weight of her felt perfect, grounding him as she nestled closer, her chest rising and falling softly against him.

"Spence, don’t apologize." She murmured, her breath tickling the skin of his neck as she shifted, her nose nuzzling into the curve of it, seeking his scent. She pressed her face against him, her lips brushing feather-light against the sensitive skin just below his ear as she planted a sleepy kiss. "You know I just can’t sleep well without you."

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the soft, familiar feeling of her lips against his neck sending warmth coursing through him. His left hand instinctively found her back, his fingers running to the hem of his sweater and lifting it slightly, making room for hand to enter under the fabric and meet her skin, spreading his fingers as he began tracing lazy circles along her spine, soothing her.

Y/N sighed in pleasure, her left hand gently crawling up to his face. Her fingers softly traced the rough stubble along his cheek before instinctively pushing his glasses back up to their proper place, her fingertips grazing the bridge of his nose in a familiar, soothing motion.

He smiled softly, his guilt still lingering but melting slightly under the comfort of her touch. She was so close, so vulnerable in her half-asleep state, and it made him feel even more protective of her.

"You should be in bed." He whispered, his voice low and affectionate, his hand continuing its gentle caress. "You have finals tomorrow... and this position’s going to make your back hurt in the morning." He tried to sound stern, but the amusement in his tone betrayed him. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly as Y/N shifted again, her hand leaving his face and meeting the other side of his neck, her right arm tightening around his torso in silent protest.

"I don’t care." She mumbled into his neck, her lips brushing against his skin as she spoke. "I love you. I want to be here."

His heart swelled at her words, an overwhelming wave of love flooding him. He turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the comforting scent of her.

"I love you more." He whispered back, his voice barely audible as he nuzzled his cheek against her hair. His hand never stopped its rhythmic movement along her back, his touch gentle and tender.

Y/N hummed in response, her breathing already slowing as the warmth of his embrace lulled her back toward sleep. Spencer could feel the way her body relaxed against his, her weight becoming heavier as she melted further into him. She was so peaceful, her soft breaths brushing against his skin in a steady rhythm.

Spencer's eyes drifted to the case file still resting on the desk, his mind unwilling to let go of the details he was trying to piece together. His hand continued to trail soothing patterns on her back, and he tilted his head down, pressing another kiss to her temple, noticing how her body was giving way to sleep again.

"Let me tuck you back into bed, sweetheart." He whispered against her skin, insisting. "You need the proper rest."

But Y/N shifted in his lap, shaking her head, clearly unwilling to move.

"No." She mumbled, her voice soft but convincing. "What I need is to be with you." She burrowed her face deeper into his neck, pressing her nose against his skin and nuzzling him like she was trying to become a part of him. "Let me stay here. Please."

Spencer sighed softly, feeling torn between the the case and the warmth of Y/N in his arms. He glanced back at Y/N, her soft breathing and her peaceful face pressed against his neck, shaking his head with how stubborn she could be.

Wrapping his arms fully around her, he held her close, one hand still caressing her back while the other pulled the case file closer to him again, reopening it and going back to the first page.

[deunmiu-dessie]

(unedited) john price knew he would marry you the first time he saw you.

john price met you in the rain.

the memory of the encounter remains etched in his mind like a timeless portrait. as the years pass and his recollections fade, the moment of your first meeting remains vivid and unblemished.

the sky, a somber shade of ashen blue, was adorned with brooding clouds of a dark and furious pearl grey. thunder roared in the distance, while lightning ominously streaked across the sky. the rain, a gentle drizzle, tapped rhythmically on his freshly trimmed lawn and his parked truck. seated on his porch, cradling a cup of tea, john's loyal english mastiff, simply known as 'dog', slumbered beneath his chair.

he'd only had a few more days left until he was back in the field, and despite having needed a couple of days to rest, john was ready to get back to the familiarity of work- especially when there wasn't anyone waiting for him when he got home. ( well, besides 'dog' )

john had always been content with his own company, finding relief in the quiet moments spent with his loyal dog. the peacefulness that came with his aloneness had become a sanctuary, a place where he could escape from the disorder of the world and his position; and find solace in his thoughts. but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months and then further, john's heart began to yearn for something more.

the familiarity of being alone, once a source of comfort, now felt like a hefty weight on his shoulders. the emptiness that had once brought him peace now seemed suffocating, as if the walls of his home were closing in on him. he craved for a wife who would eagerly anticipate his return home from his weeks away, someone to hold close and shower with affection.

the stillness that had once brought him solace now echoed with a deep longing for intimacy. the sound of his footsteps seemed hollow, and the absence of life within the house filled the empty spaces of his home with a haunting void. john couldn't help but yearn for the day when his despondent home would be replaced with the joy of shared moments and the love of another.

he craved for the warmth of another's touch, the feeling of intertwined fingers and loving touches. he craved the sound of laughter filling the air, the kind that could only come from shared jokes and inside stories. john imagined the simple pleasures of cooking together, of sharing meals and conversations that stretched long into the night.

and despite himself, despite not wanting to feel anything. his heart ached for the intimacy of whispered secrets and stolen kisses, for the comfort of knowing that someone was there to catch him when he stumbled, unconditionally. he yearned for the simple pleasure of waking up next to someone, their presence a constant reminder that he was not alone anymore.

john price, for the first time in what felt like decades; craved for something more.

john's focus is abruptly interrupted by a thunderous slam, causing his weary eyes to shift from his tepid cup of tea. his piercing blue gaze fixates on the source of the commotion across the street. as he observes, his attention is captivated by you, and while being lost in his own melancholic thoughts, he realizes that the rain has intensified, pouring down relentlessly.

there you stand on your porch, engaged in a heated argument with a man. your gestures are animated, your lips downturned in a pained frown, and your brows knitted together in irritation.

the rain's melody drowns out all other sounds, leaving john in a world of silence from the conversation. yet, even amidst this deafening quiet, he cannot tear his gaze away from you, your eyes widening in disbelief as the man retreats into the house, slamming the door shut. price watches as you fish out a pair of car keys from your pocket, walking briskly down the porch stairs and to a car that sits in the driveway. you're immediately drenched in rain from head to toe and john finds that you still look breathtaking regardless.

inexplicably, the two of you lock eyes, and your lips pull into a thin line, your words barely audible over the pouring rain but he catches them nonetheless. "what the hell are you lookin' at?!" then you slip into the car and speed down the street before he can even process what he's heard. slowly a smirk pulls at his lips, the crowsfeet around his eyes deepening.

john price, wanted you.

[prettybean]

THEY’RE PERVERTS (COD +18)

* just for fun 🤐 don’t take it too seriously

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE

Ghost

He doesn't even realize how his eyes wander over your chest every time you stand in front of him. He tries his best to keep his focus on your face, but as soon as you start talking, his gaze involuntarily shifts downwards. He fantasized about your breasts countless times: he'd help you aim the rifle, standing closely behind you, just to secretly admire how they press against the weapon.

After practice, he would rush to his room, desperate to relieve the ache in his groin, picturing his cock between your breasts.

Soap

He felt like a creep: every time you went to take a shower, he would sneak into your room and crack open the bathroom door. Your naked body was too tempting for him, so he would pleasure himself discreetly until you finished and got dressed. Obviously, you caught on. This guy couldn't keep his mouth shut and you heard him moaning outside your door multiple times.

The next time you bumped into him, you couldn't resist teasing him. "Hey John, feel free to jerk off in my bathroom next time too."

Price

He adores it when you dress up in seductive attire for him, and you enjoy the power you have to arouse him simply by revealing your skin slowly. Whenever you're away from home, he eagerly rummages through your drawer, caressing the delicate fabric in his hands before using it to pleasure himself. He longs for you intensely, and the scent of you drives him wild. He vigorously rubs your panties against his throbbing length until they become stained with his release.

You've noticed on multiple occasions that your underwear has gone missing, and you're well aware of your boyfriend's kinky side. Despite this, you choose to ignore it.

Gaz

His gallery is full of nudes of you. Every time you two have sex, Kyle feels compelled to capture the moment, whether it's him fucking you or just you in a revealing pose. He spends his days admiring the pictures, proudly sharing them with his friends, as if they were a work of art (with your permission, of course). The sight of your dripping pussy on his phone screen brings a smile to his face, making his day. He leans in and whispers in your ear, "Darling, let me take another pic, I'll do whatever you want”.

Alejandro

Alejandro has a strong attraction to your legs. The sight of them in your uniform makes him feel aroused. He frequently requests you to wear high stockings, and you happily oblige. As the stockings cling to your thick thighs, Alejandro becomes more and more infatuated with their smoothness.

He lovingly touches and kisses them, gently caressing, nibbling, and even licking them. "Mi amor, I need your thighs around my fucking cock".

Graves

He takes pleasure in humiliating you. He's so twisted that he may publicly lift your skirt, revealing your underwear to everyone on his team. Your flushed face becomes his source of satisfaction. Even when you're walking alone with Philip, he wouldn't hesitate to tug your neckline down, exposing your breasts.

Many times, he deserves a firm slap from you, but your love for him is too strong. He'd even have the audacity to say, "Damn, next time, don't even bother wearing panties."

König

He couldn't resist letting you know how much you turned him on. Every time you bent down to tie your shoe or pick something up, he positioned himself behind you, pressing his hard erection against you. Even when you were cooking, he couldn't resist rubbing his cock against your ass. You loved hearing how excited he got, so much so that sometimes you purposely put yourself in ambiguous positions for him.

"König, my phone is under the bed," you say, bending down to retrieve it. Without hesitation, he gets behind you and thrusts his hips against your slit. "Search better, Schatz," he says with a mischievous grin.

Keegan

He couldn't help but find your tears beautiful. It stirred something inside him. You were a sensitive soul, crying at the slightest provocation - whether it was pain, anger or even joy. Keegan always tried to be there for you when you were upset, offering comfort and wiping away your tears. But every time he saw you cry, he couldn't help but feel a certain arousal. He tried to hide it, but you noticed the bulge in his pants.

“Sorry baby, sometimes it happens”, but you didn't mind. In fact, you found it exciting. When he fucked you, your tears only made it better. And he responded by pounding you harder and harder, as if he couldn't get enough.

[absofckinglutelys]

researcher; lighter x gn! reader

author's note; hello lighter lovers nation! its been awhile since i posted anything here, what with my finals, procrastination and 4-5 typhoons in a month (seriously i wish i was joking). i've become kinda rusty when it comes to writing, so i hope you can be kind in these trying times. not beta read nor is my first language english so expect grammar mistakes.

word count: 2,400 words

enjoy!

_________

The afternoon sun beat down your skin as a light sheen of sweat dripped down from your forehead. But you were used to it by this point, it was more of a daily annoyance in your self-appointed work. You've built up a tolerance to it the longer you stay in your small camp.

You looked at the Hollow from afar with worry.

It grew more potent the last time I was here.. You thought to yourself as you packed up your findings in an old duffel bag while writing down some of your thoughts on your notes. You only bring back your journal and photos, not stuff that could potentially harm anyone as per the agreement to continue in your research and to stay in Blazewood.

The ache in your bones and the way your brain was turning itself off the longer you stay here tells you enough. It's time for a break.

Your camp was far away from the source of your research, the Old Capital. Far enough to not be affected, but near enough to observe it. Today, you were planning to go back to your lodgings in the Outer Ring, specifically Blazewood.

Although..

You checked your watch for the time. Normally, your ride back to Blazewood would be here by now..

Just as you were about to take out your phone to call, a familiar sound of an engine roared through the empty streets.

A bike that you were vaguely familiar with but weren't expecting at all, came closer to you at high speed before the tires screeched right in front of you. You gave the rider a smile once you recognized her.

“Afternoon, Researcher!” The soon-to-be leader of the Sons of Calydon flashed you with a wide grin, sweat dripping down her face under the sun. Her bike's engine continued to roar as she set her foot down to balance herself.

You chuckled as you placed a hand on your hip, “Caesar, how many times do I have to tell you that you can call me by my name?”

The nickname the Sons of Calydon, and by extension, the people of Blazewood started calling you once you started researching the Old Capital. You did give them your name, but apparently ‘Researcher’ stuck. You've grown used to it by this point.

Caesar flushed in embarrassment, putting her hand on her nape as she laughed, “Sorry, sorry. It's a habit at this point. Anyways,” She cleared her throat, “I'm here to bring you back to Blazewood!”

“Not that I'm complaining or anything,” You hummed as you approached the biker, “But normally Big Daddy is the one who picks me up, did something happen?” You eyed her curiously as Caesar adjusted herself so you could sit behind her, she revved her bike as you got on.

“I think so,” Caesar admitted, but quickly followed up as you looked at her with a frown over her shoulder, “But it's not anything bad! Big Daddy's been gone since yesterday. He said something about taking care of some business or something.”

You let out a sigh in relief as Caesar started driving at a slow pace before she made a U-turn back to Blazewood. “Well, at least it's not anything bad. Did he say why?”

Caesar picked up the pace, enough for the wind to whip at your face, you narrowed your eyes at the onslaught of dust and bits of rocks.

“Not really! He said something about meeting up with someone I think?!” Caesar shouted over the wind, you clutched the back of her bike for stability at the fast pace of her driving, eyes still narrowed due to the dust. “Guess we'll have to wait and see!”

––

Caesar's driving was a stark contrast compared to Big Daddy's, you were pretty sure you swallowed a bug during the ride back to Blazewood. You couldn't complain much though, at least you were back in your lodgings before late in the afternoon.

“You good, Researcher?” Caesar asked as you got off her bike, you were sure you looked like a hot mess judging by Caesar's concern, but you were pretty sure she was trying not to laugh at your face. To her credit, she was doing a pretty good job.

“Peachy, thanks for the ride, Caesar.” You adjusted your clothes and fixed your hair effortlessly, again you can't really complain. The Sons of Calydon and the people of Blazeword were already kind enough to take you under their wing, providing food and shelter. It was more than you deserve, so you help around if you could.

Besides, most of the people in Blazewood used bikes more often than not. There was Steeltusk, but you did not want to be another victim of Piper's driving anytime soon.

“Anytime–” Just as Caesar was about to get off her bike, a voice called out.

“Big Sis, Researcher! You're back!” The red jacket was already a telltale sign, the Champion of the Sons of Calydon approached you two as he raised his arm in greeting.

“Just in time, Big Daddy's been looking for you.” Billy said as he grew closer to you, you and Caesar shared a look, “Huh, Big Daddy's back already?” Caesar inquired as she got off her bike and kicked up the stand. You had half the mind to go inside your lodgings to drop off your bag as the two conversed.

It was a simple apartment on the second story, you climbed up the stairs as you took out your key, opening the door and promptly dropping your bag on the single sofa in the room before going back to the two members of the Sons of Calydon, still conversing but Caesar had a look of surprise on her face this time.

“What'd I miss?” You asked curiously.

“We're about to meet up with the others. Come on, Researcher!” Billy exclaimed, taking your arm in his hand without another word as all three of you walked to the lift to the main part of Blazewood, you didn't protest much since you and Billy were close enough for friendly touches like these every once in a while. But you were growing confused as you got on the lift.

“Did something happen?” You asked as the little bangboo pulled down the lever to take you up.

“Big Daddy's came back with a guy.” Billy replied as the lift’s creaky fence opened to let you out. You raised a brow at his vague words, “A guy?”

“Yeah, Big Daddy said he'll explain everything once everyone's there. So he sent me to wait for you two to come back.” You and Caesar shared a look again in confusion as Billy led the way, Blazewood was small, so you can already see the other Sons of Calydon members and the mayor of Blazewood just by the old diner along with an unfamiliar face.

“Do I have to be there too?” You asked as the three of you grew closer to the others.

Billy shrugged, “I guess so? Big Daddy did say to ‘make sure Caesar and the Researcher meet up with us once they come back’. I guess since you're our honorary member after all!” He joked as you let out a sigh.

Another thing, aside from your research, you spent most of your time with the Sons of Calydon in your free time. You enjoyed the company of the people of Blazewood, but you felt a deeper connection with the Sons of Calydon. Maybe because Big Daddy was the reason why you were here in the first place and he always insists you join them at their down times.

You sometimes think it was his way to make sure you weren't an anti-social shut in.

So while you weren't an official member, you were an honorary member. Which was why you were being dragged to this meeting right now.

“We're here!” Billy announced as the other members of the Sons of Calydon and the mayor of Blazewood greeted you, you smiled at them with a tip of your head.

“Now that everyone's here,” Big Daddy started, the group fell silent as they listened to him speak, “I'd like to introduce the newest member of the Sons of Calydon.” Big Daddy approached the man a little aways from the group.

The man stepped forward as Big Daddy gestured to him, his arms were crossed with his head down. You observed him from head to toe, trying to assuage what kind of person he was. You tried not to narrow your eyes at the guy and make him uncomfortable, so you smoothed your face into what you hope to be a welcoming one.

“Oh? Well, welcome to Blazewood, mister..” The mayor of Blazewood spoke up first, she trailed off,

The man cleared his throat, relaxing his stature as he looked up. “... Lighter, Lorenz. Nice to meet you.”

The man, Lighter, as he introduced himself. Had shades on when he looked up, you saw a glimpse of his eyes as he flickered his gaze around you. But you weren't entirely sure.

Big Daddy addressed the group after Lighter spoke up, “Lighter will be with us from now on. So, make sure to make him feel welcomed.” As the Sons of Calydon gave their confirmation and greetings to their new member, you stayed back and observed him.

Lighter was on the tall side, maybe as tall as Billy. But he seemed to retreat to himself as the Sons of Calydon started to approach him. No, not retreat. He looked like he was expecting a fight, wound up like a spring ready to jump. You can see his jaw clench and unclench as the others continued to ask Big Daddy question after question, most often than not, asking questions about him.

He was good at hiding his unease, you were just way too observant for your own good.

“Where are you from, Lighter?” You asked him directly, making the others pause and look at you. But your eyes were on him as he perked up in surprise, most likely not expecting anyone to ask him directly.

The man cleared his throat as he looked at you through his shades, it looks like this time he was observing you.

“.. Just by the old oil ridge, a bit far from here.” Lighter's voice was deep, raspy. As if he hasn't used his voice for awhile now. You had a hunch to think he had no reason to. “You look like you're from the city.” He followed up, more evident he was observing you.

You simply shrugged while crossing your arms, your expression remained neutral. “I get that a lot, but no, I'm not from there.”

“The Researcher's been with us for a couple of months now.” The mayor shared, looking at you with a smile which you returned.

“Yeah, but they didn't really share where they're from.” Caesar added as she looked at you thoughtfully, you put a finger to your lips mischievously. “I have my reasons.”

The group let out a small chuckle as the unspoken tension let up, it quickly died down as Big Daddy spoke up again, although it was noticeable he was glad for the distraction. “Anyways, let's get Lighter set up for now. Miss Kasa,” Big Daddy turned to the mayor. “Do we still have some room available for him? I’m afraid most of the space in our quarters is–” Big Daddy seemed to cringe, making you raise a brow in curiosity. The other members of the Sons of Claydon looked sheepish.

It made you think what transpired while you were busy with your research.

The mayor sighed but nodded in understanding. “I know. Unfortunately, most of the houses here are already occupied with residents and their respective families. And most lodgings at the lower level are already occupied.”

Big Daddy sighed as the Sons of Calydon started debating with each other what to do. You just stood by with the mayor as you watched them argue back and forth. The new guy (you decided to call Lighter), seemed to be mentally checked out of the conversation.

They're going to be arguing about this all day… You thought to yourself as the growing fatigue started making itself known as you watched. Unfortunately for you, you were way too determined in your research, which leads to not more than four hours of sleep a day. Along with sample gathering, data collection and whatnot, you're body was yelling at you to stop ignoring it's needs and go the fuck to sleep.

All you can think about is the bed inside your lodgings, and the duffle bag full of data you have to sift through.

So, before you can even pause and think, your mouth betrayed you as your mind was dead set on sleeping until the next morning.

“He can room with me.” All discussions seemed to pause, as everyone looked at you.

Curse you, you stupid mouth. But there was no turning back now.

“Are you sure, Researcher? We don't want to disturb you.” Big Daddy turned to you, he seemed to search your expression for any doubt as your face remained neutral. Instead, your gaze landed on the new guy, who seemed to be caught off guard. Huh.

You shrugged, trying to let some reassurance drip in your tone, but really. You really just want to pass out now. “It's fine, Lighter and I can room with each other for awhile as you, uh-” You narrowed your eyes at the others, “-sort out whatever happened to your headquarters.”

The other members of the Sons of Calydon nervously laughed before Big Daddy cleared his throat, waving away the unspoken question. “Well, since the Researcher offered,” Big Daddy turned to the new guy, “I hope you don't mind rooming with the Researcher, it's just until we can find a place for you to stay. That alright with you?”

“I don't mind.” Lighter answered quietly, shifting his gaze between you and Big Daddy. The Sons of Calydon perked up, reassuring the new guy about his accommodations. Sometimes you think the Sons of Calydon aren't a biker gang by how nice they are, at times, you mentally compare them to a group of eager pets with a new playmate.

You silently pray for the new guy as everyone continues to plan for his part in the Sons of Calydon.

[melloollem]

Evolution of touch||Batboys × No reader gender

Summary: What physical contact with them would be like in a relationship.

Warnings: This is not suggestive, this is a comfort, English is not my native language.

Characters: Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd.

(DC masterlist)

Damian Wayne

I'd start with your shoulders touching, for a while that was as close as you got. When you got into a relationship, he automatically had the thought "we need to be more intimate", so he would just hold your hand as methodically as he felt was necessary and give you a few quick kisses on the cheek at length.

It took him a while to understand that he didn't owe you touch, but that it was something he genuinely wanted. But even after that, you were always responsible for guiding the touch, the difference being that now you were both comfortable with it.

His body didn't stiffen when you got close, on the contrary, he relaxed. When Damian realized how calm he was with your touch, he began to use it as a source of recharge. Was he too tired after a mission? His head will rest on your shoulder, of course, the touches he initiated only happened in private, but it was because Damian relaxed so much when he had you that he couldn't allow this vulnerability to escape in public.

Tim Drake

He's happy to accept, but he never starts any. Since you were just friends, you could give him quick touches and he wouldn't mind.

When you started dating, you could initiate longer touches and he wouldn't mind either, but he still wouldn't initiate anything. Your touch wasn't disposable for him, because he could see the intention, but if you showed your affection in another way, it would be the same for him.

He knows what you want to convey through touch and prefers to reciprocate in another way. But if touch was very important to you, he would create a pattern, certain places on your body that he would always keep his hand on as a way of saying "I appreciate your touch and I see how important it is".

Dick Grayson

When you were just friends, he was as close to you as he was to anyone else, hugs, friendly touches, lengths.

Now, when you started dating, he always had a romantic touch with you, it felt like he was counting down the seconds until the next time to kiss you, he was always hugging you, but it felt like the touches came from a position of pleasing, not like he really wanted your touch.

After a long period of relationship, his touch changes completely. Whereas before he always touched you romantically with the desire to please, now he touches you casually with the desire for comfort. He always kept one part of her body resting on his or the opposite. The kisses were still frequent, but now they came from him wanting to. He was incredibly relaxed in your presence.

Jason Todd

Slow burn, very slow burn. When you were just friends, touches were limited to handshakes. When you started dating, you could always lean on him, kiss him or even hold his arms, but there were clear limits.

You could lean against him, but don't hug him, you could kiss him, but don't take him by surprise, he'd just shy away from your touch, you could hold his arms, but don't hold his hands, he'd feel his reaction time slow down.

For your touch to really begin to deepen, there was nothing you could do, it had to come from Jason. You could only hug him once he got into the habit of doing it with you in search of comfort. You could only kiss him sneakily after he'd done it to you so many times that it would be unfair not to. You could only hold his hands, because he was always the first to pull yours away. This method might be unpleasant for some people, but for Jason it was perfect, knowing that you trusted him would make him trust you.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

I've never seen anyone working on it and it's a great subject to tackle. Duke Thomas is not included because I didn't find enough content to project on top of it, sorry.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Hi Pandora!!! Happy birthday!! 🎉🎉🎉Thank you for deciding to share the celebrations with all of us 😊 You've really got me on a Law kick lately with the Meet Cute, so could I get Law with "I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you"? Maybe NSFW with fem!reader?

@froggiewrites Froggie, Froggie, Froggie... your time has come! 😂 First of, thank you so much for the lovely birthday wishes! And now... I had so much fun writing this prompt, I do hope you enjoy it! Thank you for participating! ❤️

Source for Pic

Rulebreaker

Word Count: 3036

Tags: Fem!Reader; Teasing; Edging; Power Dynamics; Fluff Ending; NSFW; MDNI;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Law, your captain, is tired of the shenaningans you pull whenever the Heart Pirates land on a new island, so he devises a way for you to follow his rules.

Notes: I couldn't hold on another day. I regret nothing. Though I supose the day will come when I'll leave you guys high and dry (fic-less) for some time 😅 Anyway, this is not that time, so please, enjoy this meal!

|Masterlist|

“For the umpteenth time, Law! I know! Now give me a break!” Logic never has been your forte. Thinking on your feet, damn right! Making hard decisions under stress, bring’em, baby. Endurance, the best at it! But logic? No.

So is it logical to argue with your captain after having disobeyed his orders yet again? Not in the least. And damned if there aren’t more than one reason not to lose your patience with him, way more than one, actually. First, you are in his office, second, he’s your superior, third, he’s your boyfriend. But fourth, and the most important one, there’s no getting away from Law if you make him snap. Literally. He’d shambles you from anywhere. 

Still, despite the violence with which your heart is hammering in your chest, your bravado remains in place, as you hold the stare with which his amber eyes pin you, not even flinching. 

“You know?” His voice is clipped as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwined and resting beneath his chin. Fuck, he’s pissed. “You claim to already know, but as soon as we land on another island, the first thing you do is get into trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for trouble, trouble finds me!” You say, trademark smirk in place before the little voice in your head starts to whisper in your ear. You’re going to regret pissing him off…

“That’s cute.” Is it? Because he’s not even close to being amused. 

“I know, that’s how you found me. You were the trouble, and you were drawn to me.” There. That has to placate some of his anger, right?

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment as if pondering his next move. Then, he reaches for one drawer of his desk and removes an envelope. Curiosity nips at you while you angle your head, trying to see what he’s holding, but instead of hiding it, Law gets up, hands you the envelope, and walks to the door. 

What the hell? You open it and reach for a piece of folded paper as you hear the distinct click of the door being locked. “Am I supposed to read this?”

“Yes.” Clipped, curt, cold. You really pissed him off. 

The scribbled handwriting is a dead giveaway that this was written by Law, but knowing him for over a year, and being involved for half of it, you’re quite familiar with it by now. The letters on top instantly turn your curious look into a scowl. “Rulebook?” 

Law sits again and smirks softly, a barely-there twitch of the upper lip. “Looks like you need one.” You scoff as you skim the first articles.

“I play by the rules!”

“Really? Then why have I had to mend your slashed leg today? Tell me that.” Your teeth clack together as you close your mouth and nearly growl at him. Your name in his lips sounds like a warning. “It’s an order. Answer it.”

“Because I didn’t obey you.” You manage to sputter the words between your teeth and each of them parting your lips hurts more than the sword cut you received from the marines stationed at the island. 

“Hence the rulebook. It’s not unwarranted. I’ve known you for a year and every time we encounter a new island, you run amok doing your own shit and come back slashed, bruised, cut, or bleeding. I’ve had enough.” You swallow the knot in your throat as Law gets up, circling the desk and leaning on it, right in front of you. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about you. So it’s time you make me stop worrying, before I drive myself insane.”

Aww…You’d actually think that’s a cute thing to say, if it wasn’t for the unhinged glint in Law’s eyes or the way that his smirk makes you tremble in anticipation. 

“You want me to follow this rulebook?” He gives you that annoying ‘what do you think?’ look and you scoff. “There’s like fifteen rules here! I’m not following this!” Your eyes skim the rules again. “Report back every hour? What the hell, Law?”

“You can use a DenDen for that.” He’s enjoying this. You were expecting punishment, but not this kind of punishment, this is unbearable. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart.” His voice softens as you glare at him through hooded eyes. “I’ll make you a deal.”

What?

“If you read me all the items in that rulebook without stopping, you don’t have to follow it.” What the fuck? Your head cocks to the side as your eyes switch between the paper in your hands and the amused glare of your boyfriend.

“Just like that?”

“With a few more conditions.” He chuckles with that low vibrato in his voice and your knees tremble. 

“Which are?”

“Get up.” When you do, he unzips your boiler suit all the way down, revealing the top you have underneath. “Strip the rest.”

“Is this a kink, Law?” You tease, knowing you don’t mind at all. If reciting the items naked for him is what gets you your freedom, you’re game. So you take everything but your panties because he stops you when you were going to remove them. 

“Perfect.” He says.

“Okay, I’ll start.” You clear your throat and bend your legs to sit when Law’s tutting stops you. “What?”

“Bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.” Bend over? Heat starts to pool at your core because that position over that desk has already given you quite a few orgasms in the past months, and you have excellent muscle memory. 

“Law?”

“It’s up to you. If you don’t read them, you have to follow them.” He pushes off the table as his eyes devour you, inch by inch, making you inhale deeply just to gather your thoughts again. 

“Fine.” Anything to not follow his stupid rules! You bend over his desk, which is conveniently the perfect height to line up your ass with his cock, as proven many times before, and push a few books to the side so you’re leaning on your elbows. You clear your throat again and begin reciting in a sing-song voice. “Rule number one: no wandering off alone! Sure, this one is simple, I usually go out with Ik– mmph, Law!”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as your body snaps with tension. Looking over your shoulder, you see your captain sitting in the chair you were in earlier, with his finger in your clothed cunt. 

“You stopped.” Fuck. “But I’ll give you that one, you weren’t prepared. Start over.” Your breath comes out in ragged gasps as you feel yourself already getting wet at the prospect of all the things Law is going to do to you. It kind of makes you want to throw the rules overboard and just beg him to take you right now.

“Fuck, Law. Okay, here we go: Rule number one: no wandering off alone!” A gasp leaves your lips and you close your eyes for a second as Law’s fingers tease your clit over the panties, the friction of the fabric increasing his touch. “Rule number two: Fuck, Law, like that.” You moan, closing your eyes again as he teases one finger inside the panties to see how wet you are. 

His tuts are unforgiving, and he removes his fingers altogether, earning him a grunt from you. “You stopped again, sweetheart.”

“Law!”

“The deal is: you read them all until the end without stopping, and you don’t have to follow them. Got it?” You groan and shake your head. That’s impossible. If he’s going to torture you  like this, it will be impossible to read the rules. 

“That’s unfair, Law.”

“Okay, then, you’re right. So how about this: you can pause three times during five seconds.” You nod. You can do that. Law’s hand caresses your buttcheeks as he talks, and every single rub makes you tingle.  “Moaning is encouraged, but keep reading. Oh, and when you pause,” Law removes his hands from you, “I pause. Keep that in mind.”

What? Now that’s cruel! You look at the rules again and feel angered. There’s no fucking way you’re going to follow them, you can do this! You can zone out. Let’s go!

“Fine! Okay, we’re doing this. Just know that you’re the infuriating one! Rule number two–”

“No, no, no. From the beginning.” Does this man want you angered or turned on? Because he’s doing both brilliantly. 

“Rule number one: no wandering off alone.” You cry out softly as his hand slaps your ass, leaving the most marvellous burning sensation behind, which he soothes with a caress. “Rule number two: report back every hour. Oh, my God.” You take a deep breath before reading the other one, trying to focus on the words instead of the slow way he’s pulling your pants down your legs and breathing against your cunt.

“Rule number three: no-... no-... my God, Law.” He’s using his tongue! He swipes up from your clit to your hole in a long upwards streak, then probes around the entrance with slow, teasing circles. He inches just the tip of his tongue inside as his hand reaches to brush against your swollen clit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“One… Two…” His movements stop, and he starts counting the seconds you’re quiet against your cunt, making you shudder. The dry thud of your forehead against the wooden desk should ground you, but it’s impossible when he was working his fingers like that. “Three…Four…” One more second to regain focus, one deep breath to continue. “Five.”

Just as you open your mouth, so does he, tongue reaching inside you, twisting and curling to hit delicious spots as you cry out his name before your muddled brain repeats the same word over and over: read, read, read!

“Rule number three: no unauthorized fucking fights!” An unbridled moan parts your lips as Law switches up and two of his fingers go where his tongue was and his tongue sucks on your clit. “FUCK. Rule number four: ah, Law, ah! No reckless stunts! That was one time! One–... ahhh!” You suck in three deep breaths and punch the table as his fingers curl and his teeth nibble gently, just the way he knows you like.

God, you’re so close. Your legs numb and tense up as heat spreads throughout your veins. The pressure in your abdomen threatens to release at any given moment and you can’t stop right now. 

“Rule number five: don’t stop, Law! Don’t… ah!” You cry out his name as wave upon wave of pleasure washes over you, taking your sanity with it and blurring your vision until tiny white dots are all you can see. Sweat drips from your temples, and your elbows give out as you squeeze your breasts against the table. Your hands find purchase against anything to help you ride this high, and there’s now a book on Law’s desk with very crumpled pages. 

You’re still breathing hard, trying to regain focus when the buzzing in your ears subsides, and you hear Law’s voice again. “Four…” Fuck, fuck, the list! You open your eyes with a deep exhale and focus back on the now crumpled paper, just as Law finishes his count. You’re now down to one more pause. Crap.

“Rule number five: do not interact with suspicious strangers.” You hear Law unbuckling his belt and start to read faster, even though the aftershocks of your orgasm are still making you shudder and gasp. “Rule number six: do not go to bars without me.” Well, that one is warranted. You pretty much fuck everything up when you’re wasted. The zipper, hurry up! “Rule number seven: obey curfew.” 

A lone whimper leaves your lips as you feel Law rubbing the tip of his cock against your slit, up and down, touching your oversensitive clit before teasing your entrance but not entering. You’re going to fail if you don’t hurry. 

“Rule number ei–...” You gasp and cry out the loudest moan yet as Law sheathes himself inside of you, immediately bottoming out. The feeling of fullness, the tip hitting your cervix, and the burn of the stretching is so intense that it takes your breath away for a second. 

“Breathe, sweetheart, I’m giving you this one for free.” He rubs soothing circles on your back and doesn’t move until you relax around him. “Now continue, or I’ll start the break time.”

You heave in a few sharp breaths, already too winded to speak, but you have no other choice. 

“Rule number eight: hmm… ah…” Law pulls back, his hands firmly planted against your hips and you brace yourself for what’s next. “You’re forbidden to act as ba–... ahngh! Fuck! Bait!” He slams into you and the desk skids forward with the force. The pleasure of his thrust and the pain of the desk biting into your hips shoots warmth through your core and down your legs and you focus again on the words in front of you.

On the very blurry words in front of you. Tears of pleasure gather at the corner of your eyes as your mouth hangs open and Law keeps thrusting harder and harder.

“Rule number– just like that, more! Nine: Always carry a, fuck, weapon!” Almost there. Both at the end of the list and on the next wave of bliss that’s already cresting and forming as the coil winds tight in your stomach. 

“Rule–... ngh… rule–” You’re about to break and cry out or tap out, anything. You can’t think about anything other than the pure perfection that is your bodies conjoined. The lewd sounds of his cock filling you and the soft grunts he’s releasing behind you. 

“Go on, love, you got this.” He urges, thrusting even harder. 

But you don’t ‘got this’, at all. Your hair is damp against your forehead, and all that escapes your lips are ragged moans and broken pleas. You’re there, you’re right there. A few more thrusts and you’ll be–...

“One…Two…” He stopped. He fucking stopped! A desperate whine leaves your lips as you wiggle your hips against him because you were just there! “Three…” He won’t move until five or until you start to read again.

This has to be torture for him too!

“Four…” Deep breaths, focus. You can do this, it’s as simple as reading a supermarket list. If you were being railed against the dairy section. Damn. New kink unlocked. “Five…”

“Rule number–...” Where the fuck was I? Blank. There’s nothing there. And then there’s Law and another deep thrust clicking your brain into place. “Rule number ten: fuck me harder, Law!”

He can’t help but chuckle as he reaches forward, his back sprawling over you and you feel the way his sweat clings to your back. “That’s not written there, love, carry on.”

“Don’t leave the ship without permission.” You moan out the rule, but you said it. There are five more rules and one big impediment. You don’t have more timeouts, and your orgasm is approaching fast. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to read while you're in ecstasy. 

Spit them all out, now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rule number eleven: stay out of off-limit areas; rule number twelve: stay inside the sub if you’re hurt.” Intelligible. Everything you’re saying comes out in ragged breaths, gasps, and moans, but you’re reading. And Law ups his game.

He slithers a hand around your waist, lifting your body against him, grabbing your leg and hoisting your knee over the desk. His cock slides deeper with each thrust as he breathes heavily into your ear.

God, you won’t make it. 

“Rule number thirteen: ah… Law… I’m… nghh. Absolutely no secrets.” Two more, just two more rules, but you can feel the coil tightening, almost, almost snapping. The way Law holds your body against his, as sweat drenches both of you, his mouth on the curve of your neck, the way he’s digging his teeth in… it’s too much.

“Rule number fourteen: follow my medical advice.” One more. 

Law’s fingers reach down to press your clit, circling it with expert precision, and his next deep thrust makes you lose it. 

Your release hits you like a truck, and you arch your back, nails digging into Law’s forearm as he expertly works his fingers to squeeze every bit of pleasure out of you. Your cry mingles with his low grunt as he spills his seed inside you, riding his pleasure with a few more ragged thrusts. 

The world is reduced to just the two of you and this moment. Nothing else matters but the way he whispers ‘I love you��� in your ear in a breathless whisper. You nod back at him, too addled, hazed, and tired to give him an adequate response, knowing you’ll do so after a brief moment of reprieve.

Law pulls himself out of you and brings you both into the chair, cradling you against his chest as his fingers caress your hair, and he kisses your nose affectionately. “Are you all right?”

Another nod. Too early to speak yet. 

“You almost did it, love. You had one more rule.” He chuckles, and you laugh along with him. 

“This is an impossible challenge, Law. You’re terrible. But I love you.” You lift the crumpled paper to glimpse at the last rule. “Rule number fifteen: follow the chain of command.” You scoff. “Got it, Captain. I’ll obey every damn, stupid, silly rule. You won.”

You’re not even pissed at him anymore. This was fucking hot. 

“Check the addendum.” You lift your head from his chest to meet his amber gaze in curiosity before looking back at the paper, confused. “Turn it.” He says, so you do.

“Addendum: the following of this rulebook can be challenged at any given time, under the same rules.” A smirk forms on your lips at the implications of the addendum, you can have a repeat of this little game anytime you want. You’ll find a way to beat the rules, eventually. Chuckling, you snuggle back into that cosy spot in the curve of Law’s neck, where your head fits perfectly. “Give me half an hour and we’ll try again.”

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

[yurislilygarden]

ʚїɞ Self Aware! Hazbin Hotel

ʚїɞ Their reaction after becoming self aware and first thoughts about reader! part 1

ʚїɞ Alastor and Lucifer Morningstar

ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!

ʚїɞ Word count: just about 1.7k

ʚїɞ I planned for all hotel characters first but then I realized how much I'm thinking on each paragraph and its details that I decided to just do 2-3 charas per part😭

Very few characters would notice something wrong on the first watch of the show, but wouldn't realize, nor become self-aware until the 2nd or further watch. 

While everyone's reaction would be different with different amounts of stages before total acceptance of the situation, they all would share the first emotion, simple disbelief. They would first need to even process the fact that they're not real, that they were created solely for the purpose of entertaining… something? Someone? In a completely different Universe. That everything that they thought had happened to them before they died didn't actually happen, they were never alive in the first place. Only after that did the emotions and reactions differ. The very first emotion or actual personal reaction would be:

ALASTOR

Irritation with a hint of madness.

His first thoughts about the situation would be how ironic it is that he seeks entertainment for himself while his own person, no, character, was a source of entertainment for whatever was watching them from time to time. It was quite ironic how he said that his face was made for radio when the truth couldn't be further from that. He was literally created solely to be watched on that funny colored box by… whatever was watching him and the others.

He was irritated at not noticing that something was wrong immediately, now he thinks about how blind he was, how obvious everything was. The city is actually quiet, too quiet when the noise and demons aren't needed, when they're not meant to be heard. Nothing actually happened that one time when he was out for a fix of his coat, it just got magically fixed, he went and came back when someone else decided he was to do so. They didn’t have much actual free will when he thought about it and that's what he was mad about. He thought that his deal was a massive problem to him, oh how wrong he was because the problem was you.

He doesn't know how he or the others didn't notice the small, glowing butterfly flying above their heads from time to time. They couldn't be that blind, could they? The little crystal thing (could he break it?) must have done something to be unnoticed for so long. He wondered how long they were watched for, the little thing above their heads seemed to be speaking sometimes, seemingly knowing what would happen… at least he thought so, the words would cut out so often that he was left with a pure guess at one point.

He didn't want to accept that he wasn't real, that he was just a 2D character with the sole purpose of entertaining someone. He was meant to be the one entertained, not you. But he couldn't actually do anything, could he? For sure not until more of the people he knew were aware. 

That's also something that he noticed. When it came to the hotel staff and guests, he seemed to be the only one who realized the situation at first. It took a few times of some events repeating before he noticed that someone else from the hotel was noticing the little crystal butterfly above their heads as well. 

Alastor seemed to be the first, or one of the very first people who noticed that something was wrong. He wasn't sure if someone realized before him, and if they did then who, but he was somewhat glad that he could finally discuss the topic at least a little once the other hotel patrons found out about the truth. He isn't one to really open up in any way, but this was a matter where he had to communicate with the others.

You. He didn’t know what to think of you at first. He did see you in a more negative light at first, under many emotions hitting him at once which he hated but after he calmed down, he started thinking. At first, he was sure you were some sick person seeking entertainment from the suffering of others, and yeah he was doing pretty much the same, but were you really alike when he wasn’t even real and you were? He was pretty sure that he’s never gonna get used to saying that.

Over time, when he stopped overthinking (he’s gonna deny that he was doing that till the day of his 2nd death), he noticed a few changes. The less negative his posture and thoughts were about you, even if neutral, the more he was able to find out. Alastor was able to pick up more than a few words whenever you talked, he was able to hear you talking clearly enough to recognize a possible gender, and something he wasn’t sure that he wanted to think about, it was way easier to pick up your emotions in your words.

I feel like he would be more lenient towards you if it turned out you were a female (or identified as one), but that would be the mama’s boy inside of him talking. There wouldn’t be too many differences of course, but those who spent enough time around him would be able to tell there's a difference after finding out your gender if it turned out you weren’t a man (again, not too much but it IS noticeable).

He would go from lowkey hating you at first to being mostly neutral with a hint of positive light as you seemed to do nothing but watch, up until later on when everyone is self-aware as well and would talk about the whole thing. Only then would the feelings towards you, the little watcher, as he first called you, turn more positive.

LUCIFER

Massive inner conflict and a complete mix of emotions

He didn’t know what to think. It was hard to comprehend that he didn’t actually live for as long as he thought, that all the things that supposedly happened, in fact never were even close to happening, they were just… a scripted past. 

Was all his suffering for nothing? Was it there just to entertain someone? Did those things who watched them enjoy seeing them sad and hurt? He was simply lost on what to think about the whole situation, it wasn't something that he could prepare himself for in any way beforehand. 

He was disappointed in himself for not noticing immediately or at least faster that something was not right. He's the literal King of hell! Even if… only in a show apparently… but he still is. No one better say anything about that because he's already on the brink of a yet another breakdown. He cannot take much more.

Should he try doing something about this? Or should he stay quiet and go with the script as he's supposed to? He wasn’t sure about the answer himself and had no one to answer his questions. The thought that what he thought were eons of life was actually a lie was… a little terrifying. Who knows just how much can someone force them to do without caring for their opinions because they don’t know that he and the others are aware of everything now, how much can you cause without their consent? He wasn’t sure if you or anyone else knew about them being self-aware or not.

He would actually try to ignore the little butterfly whenever he would see it, but at the same time, many questions were swirling in his mind.

Why were you around? Did you like to see them suffering? Did you have any control over what you saw? Did you have some sort of control over them? Did you have plans regarding them? Did you-

Yeah, again, he has a lot of questions and absolutely zero answers.

His personal feelings about you were all around at first. Not sure whether he should hate, dislike, or be generally negative about you, be more neutral, or be on the more positive side, especially since you didn't seem to do anything but watch them. Like it's all that you could do when it comes to them, but he couldn't be 100% sure.

Similarly to Alastor, he would be one of the characters who noticed something wrong on the first watch of the show before becoming self-aware quite soon after that. I don't think he, nor Alastor, would notice the other knows too fast, since both try to act like nothing's wrong around others. He did not want to be just a 2D character, something to be watched on a screen. It was… humiliating, in his eyes. He could tell that Charlie and the others weren't aware of anything at first so he didn't speak about it until later on when he was sure that they came to their senses, as he would like to say.

He wondered how long were you actually there before he, or anyone else, started to see or notice you, especially since he could literally hear you. Both as the small insect and the occasional words he was able to pick up. And that's if he was to forget the butterfly was literally, softly fucking glowing. Yeah, they're all blind.

I think that if you’re on the younger side, (which technically is any age a human can be alive at compared to him lmao) he would be a little softer, especially if you're similar to his daughter in character. It would come from the paternal side of his, you would probably remind him of Charlie so much :(

He would be more on the negative side at first, as much as he wishes he didn't straight up assume how you were as a person, it took some time but he went into the more neutral zone before being positive about you after being able to hear more of you talking, as he was able to at least have more idea about your character and wasn't completely clueless like at the start.

Your nickname also got changed to something else, something cuter over time, as Alastor’s name for you, little watcher, was deemed not good enough by everyone (Lucifer's words)

Notes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated

[partycatty]

HIII, I JUST THOUGHT ABOUT PROFESSOR JOHNNY CAGE! LIKE IMAGINE THIS: the reader is shy student (legal obv) , and she's all flustered when it comes to him, and she's been subtly flirting with him but subtly and he's been doing it back getting her all flustered but she thinks he doesn't like her because "there's no signs", and one day he calls her into his office and BOOOOM (smut if you want 🤭) BUT YEAH ID LOVE IF YOU COULD DO IT BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS AMAZING 🫶🏻

PROFESSOR CARLTON MY BELOVED

professor!johnny cage > into you

warnings: ur professor is in heat

notes: consider this a pt2 to again, a professor takahashi fic!

[ masterlist ]

• unlike your english professor, mr. takahashi, dr. carlton was passion personified. he was always bubbly, eager to talk about his subject with a glitter in his eye that set his students crazy. he was a hot, well-built man with a face meant for screens but he instead rambled about physics and science and whatnot, something that was way out of your realm of understanding as midterms neared. damn you and your grades, you couldn't help but find yourself in this situation all the damn time.

• on the subject of his personality, it dizzied you. maybe it was your wandering imagination or his lingering stares, but dr. carlton always seemed to find some way to charm you specifically. it all felt targeted, playful, almost too innocent to be truly innocent.

• "professor," you'd raise your hand with a question, countering his answer and logic with your own numbers. instead of responding professionally, he dips into his charisma with a very sassy "i've got a phd in quantum mechanics, bitch!" which sends you and the class roaring in laughter. he smiles to himself, beaming in such a way that makes your face hot and mind very aware of how you smile back.

• his lingering touches, his prolonged affirmations and praises touched something dark and mean inside of you that craved this taboo attention from a man that's supposed to be in charge of you, and he seemed a little too aware of it. flustering you was almost always his personal goal, leaning in just a tad too close to your ear to tell you what a good student you are, always offering up extra time after class if you needed it.

• he made you... shy. he made you self conscious and a little nauseous when he glances your way with a knowing grin, and yet you had no idea if he was serious. maybe it was his attractive male charm working wonders in your feeble, horny mind.

• dr. carlton was the source of all of your fantasies as you pumped your fingers in and out of your messy cunt on the nights that your roommate was out late, leaving you to writhe and whimper at the dream of how full you'd feel stuffed with your professor's cock. it was something you craved, needed. something about his veiny hands and thick arms, or his neat hair, or how badly you needed to ride his nose...

• your friends tried pushing you to hook up with him, or at least open your eyes. he was practically undressing you with each stare, chewing on the end of his pen as he couldn't tear his eyes from your chest as you took one of his many tests. he wasn't trying to throw himself at you, just leave the door wide open.

• "great lecture, guys, thanks for half-listening!" dr. carlton clapped his hands together once with a sarcastic grin as the class packed up and left. "next week, be sure to read - oh, hey - " he catches you, checking his watch briefly. "stick around after, yeah? you got time?"

• whatever you had planned could wait. "everything alright, dr. carlton?"

• "please," he scoffs, hands on his hips. "the higher-ups call me that. it's exhausting. johnny works just fine, you know."

• as he talks, johnny circles you, closing the door as the last student exits the classroom. the intimacy of the situation nauseates you, being in a room with one of the hottest men you'd ever seen made your eyes feel foggy and hands clammy. his eyes feel more than analytical, like they're trying to pull you apart until you're putty in his hands.

• "i wanted to... talk," he opens, a wavering in his voice that makes your brow cock. he fights with a sleeve and you don't miss the shaking in his hands.

• "talk?" you repeat, his next words lost to you. "about... the test?"

• he gives you a funny look, mouth twisted in a perplexed pout that made it hard to not crack a smile. "no. you did fine." his voice sounds anxious, trying so hard to bury it under his charismatic tone. "i, uh..."

• as you try to figure out his point, johnny seems to get a genius idea, taking long strides toward you and backs you into his desk, your behind pressed against the wood as he leaves you little room to readjust.

• "i—i can't..." he's strained, it almost looks painful. "tell me you feel this too."

• what.

• johnny continues. "i-i don't mean to be this forward, i tried — tried — to keep it to myself but you..." he swallows. "just tell me you feel this too. whatever this is."

• ...you made him nervous. professor carlton, embodiment of confidence. so it seems the feeling is mutual as you scan his pleading eyes, ones full of guilt and disbelief in himself. slowly, hesitantly, you nod. he almost doesn't notice it at first, but you make out a glimmer in his eye when he does. the voices of your friends echo in your head.

• "just once," he vaguely offers. "just once. nobody has to know."

• your heart beats in your throat at his sudden offer. he was throwing himself at you, no longer subtly implying anything. he had cracked, and was desperate. it was... kind of hot.

• as you ponder his offer, a harsh knock pounds at the door that causes the two of you to jump, the air cooling down from the pestering heat of the moment. johnny's fists clenched and you sensed a frustrated frown as he spun on his heel to answer the door. the conversation was inaudible, but it sounded to be a student inquiring their professor over the material. johnny's voice was dismissive, almost irritated with the student, leg bouncing and fingers drumming on the door.

• he turns to face you for a moment, the needy look returning. "please," he mouths before returning to the student, and you can hear his whispered hunger that makes your thighs tense.

• the conversation becomes audible as johnny raises his voice ever so slightly. "yes, sure," he agrees. "i was just wrapping things up with another student. we can discuss the quiz. hold on."

• johnny closes the door and spins back toward you. his hands find your shoulders, squeezing.

• "tomorrow," he breathes, eyes darting between yours. "tomorrow after class. i'll be here. y-you don't have to come, but i'll always... be here."

• "...okay," you breathlessly reply, stunned for a proper response. "okay."

• "good," he sighs and wipes his clammy hands on his thighs, clapping them together. "tomorrow it is, then."

• he returns to the straggling student, opening the door with an eerily calm demeanor, as if nothing has happened. damn, if he were an actor, he'd be a good one.

• you excuse yourself without even sparing an extra glance at your professor, the one who just confessed his need for you. it was too much, too dizzying. what was it with the professors here?

• as you walk down the hall, something sparks your memory. damn. you had promised professor takahashi your office hours... for similar reasons.

• whose offer are you going to take up? the question burned in your mind, and you weighed your options. you wanted them both, just as badly as they wanted you. and your grade has seen better days...

[ro-is-struggling]

In Sickness And In Health || Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: You're terrified that your boyfriend Clark —the local superhero and most perfect man on the planet— will see you sick, so you forbid him to visit you while you have a cold. However, when he shows up at your door saying he misses you, he proves that your insecurities were unwarranted.

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, reader being a little insecure, hurt/comfort kinda, my shitty titles (I tried my best :c )

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: I wrote this for me while I was recovering from a cold that had me in bed feeling miserable for days. I was a mess and I felt ugly so I wrote this silly little thing to cheer me up as I continued to descend into the Henry Cavill filmography rabbit hole lol I decided to share it bc why not? Hope you guys like it c:

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You hated being sick. You hated feeling weak and tired all day, spending hours in bed surrounded by used tissues. You hated that your throat felt scratchy and that your stuffy nose made you have to choose between eating and breathing. You hated having your daily routine interrupted by a stupid cold, but most of all you hated not feeling like yourself. 

You were a mess when you got sick, tangled hair tied up in a messy bun and wearing pajamas all day. You usually didn't move from your bed, which resulted in mountains of used tissues piling up on every surface near you. Multiple cups with leftover tea and a packet of crackers decorated the bedside table, being your main source of food for the day. It was an unpleasant sight so you preferred to spend your sick days alone in the quiet of your home where no one could see your red, irritated nose or the filth you were living in. 

You had specifically asked Clark not to come by your house for that very reason. You loved him to death, but you weren't prepared to let him see you in that state. You felt ugly when you were sick, almost unworthy to be in the presence of someone as perfect and magnificent as him. Clark was literally the perfect man, he never got sick or had to deal with colds in the winter or allergies in the spring. It was almost impossible to see him disheveled since he was able to stop a building from collapsing with his bare hands without a single hair on his head moving out of place. You knew he loved you and didn't care what you looked like, but you couldn't help but feel self-conscious about it since he was literally perfect. So, to save yourself trouble and to concentrate your energy on recovering, you asked him not to come see you for a few days.

Clark respected your wishes at first, but after two days without seeing you he couldn't wait. He missed you and didn't understand your insistence on being alone, it wasn't as if he could catch a cold from you. So when he finished his shift at the Daily Planet he headed to your apartment —stopping on the way just to buy some groceries and a bouquet of flowers for you. He didn't text you that he was going to see you, knowing that if he did you would find some excuse or some way to convince him to go home instead. That's why you were surprised to see him there when you peeked through the peephole in the door before opening it.

"Clark, what are you doing here?" You exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. He wasn't supposed to be there. "I thought I told you not to come here!"

"I know, but I missed you." He pouted and you had to look away from the peep hole before he managed to convince you to let him in with those hurt puppy dog eyes of his. You missed him too, but you were in no condition to be around anyone, let alone him.

"I brought food, I thought maybe I could cook for you while you rest." Clark insisted when you didn't respond. You couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, he sounded so genuinely interested in helping you and taking care of you that it almost broke your heart to have to say no to him.

"I'm not hungry," you lied. "You should go home, Clark."

"Why won't you let me take care of you?" he sighed in frustration. You leaned your forehead against the wood door, debating whether you should tell him the truth. You suddenly felt stupid for having such a specific and probably irrelevant insecurity, but it wasn't like you could control it. 

Despite the fact that you and Clark had been dating for quite a while, you still had a fair amount of 'first times'. You hadn't yet gone on vacation together for example, and he still hadn't met your family —though not by his own choice, he really wanted to. And, among other things, he had never seen you being sick. It was such a silly thing, but you felt ugly and disgusting and all you wanted to do was disappear under the covers and not come out until the cold was cured so no human being would ever have to see you in that state. 

"It's not that I don't want to," you muttered more to yourself than for him to hear, though you knew he could do it because of his powers. You fiddled nervously with the seam of your t-shirt, feeling a little silly for having to talk about this out loud. "It's just that I'm not in the mood to have guests."

"I'm not a guest, I'm your boyfriend."

“Claaark!” You pouted, begging the universe not to make you say out loud what your real problem was. You heard him let out a chuckle from the other side of the door and rolled your eyes, frustrated that he found the situation funny.

"What?" His voice was a perfect mix of confusion and amusement.

"It's just that... I'm not presentable, the house is a mess and I feel ugly. I'd rather you didn't see me like this." 

There was a long silence. Your fingers began to tug at the threads of the seam of the hem of your t-shirt while your teeth nervously nibbled at the skin of your lips, waiting for a response from your boyfriend. The tension grew with every second, time seemed to drag on as the uncertainty of silence ate you up inside. And then you heard a laugh. 

Clark was laughing. 

It wasn't a mocking or evil laugh, more an expression of his own surprise at your revelation. But it still bothered you. "I'm sorry, is this funny to you?"

"Yeah, a little." He replied with a chuckle and you let out a sigh of genuine disbelief. "I mean, you know I can see you through the door, right?" your eyes grew wide at the realization that due to his powers he had been watching you all this time. You turned quickly, facing away from the door as you hid your face in your hands. 

"Clark, stop it right now!" You ordered him and he let out another chuckle. "I mean it!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I find it a little ridiculous. I mean, you have to know I couldn't care less about how you look. All I want to do is be with you and take care of you, baby." It melted your heart to hear the sincerity in her voice. It wasn't like you didn't know that, but it was nice to hear him say it, to reassure you that his love for you was genuine and pure. 

A part of you was dying to be pampered by him, to lose yourself in the warmth of Clark's strong arms as he held you against his chest, soothing all your aches and pains with his presence alone. It was tempting to think of him pacing around the apartment, making tea and cooking dinner while you rested between the sheets. But the other part of you —-the part that was usually in control of your decisions— hesitated, afraid of shattering some sort of illusion or image Clark had of you. It was silly and it only got sillier every time you thought about it, but you still couldn't bring yourself to open the door for him.

"I know, but still... I'm not ready for you to see me like this. I look hideous."

"You could never look hideous, baby." Clark sighed. His voice sounded closer and clearer, an indicator that he had moved closer to the door.

"You're just saying that because you love me and love has made you stupid and blind."

"Well, yeah, of course I love you. But also, you truly are the most beautiful woman in the world." You smiled to yourself, feeling your insides filling with that comforting warm feeling that you could only describe as the flame of love. Clark always knew just what to say to make all your problems go away. It was one of his best abilities, even if it was under-appreciated when compared to the rest of his powers.

"Flattery will get you nowhere." You lied, knowing full well that his sweet words were slowly softening the hard protective shield you had raised around your heart.

"C'mon, sweetheart! I'm gonna have to see you while you're sick eventually. Or what, once we live together you plan to lock yourself in the bedroom for a week and make me sleep on the couch so I don't see you with a cold? Or maybe I'll have to rent a room in a hotel until you get better? Is that what you want?"

You were silent for a moment as your brain tried to process what he had said, not his ridiculous options for staying apart when you were sick, but the part where he mentioned a future together. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already imagined what your life together would be like for the next forty years. You wanted to wake up next to Clark every morning, share your free time with him and grow old by his side. He was the love of your life, you were sure of that. But what you didn't know was that he was also thinking about your future together. 

"Once we live together?" you repeated in an excited whisper, the smile on your face widening. "You think about that stuff?"

"Of course I do!" he assured you, sounding slightly offended that you thought otherwise. It hadn't been his intention to make it obvious that every night before bed he imagined his life with you, but he wasn't hiding it either. He was shamelessly in love with you so why bother disguising it. "I want everything with you, sweetheart. I love you."

All worries faded from your mind, banished by the echo of Clark's sweet words. Your hands worked quickly over the locks on the door, removing the latch before turning the key to unlock it. He had won, there was no way you could tell him to leave after such a confession of love. All you wanted to do was hug him and lose yourself in the warmth of his body until you melted into one, show him how much you loved him and how important his words were to you. It was more than the expression of a wish or a projection of the future. It was a promise. The promise of love and commitment. He wanted to be with you in sickness and in health, in good times and in hard times. Clark loved you as much as you loved him and that was all you needed to know to feel better.

"You cheated." You joked as you opened the door, stepping aside to let your boyfriend in. He smiled in amusement at your childish pout, letting out a slight chuckle as he set the shopping bag aside to close the door behind him 

"I was just being honest." Clark looked at you with such adoration in his eyes —his blue orbs glowing with the spark of love— that you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Blood rushed to your cheeks, making you feel warm for the first time since you'd caught a cold.

"Stop it!" you whined, hiding your face in his chest as a defense mechanism to cope with how vulnerable you felt. 

You'd never been good at receiving compliments and always felt awkward when someone said something nice about you, unsure how to respond other than with a shy smile. And even though Clark seemed to make it his favorite pastime to give you compliments, it hadn't gotten any better. You still felt silly every time he complimented your outfit before going out to dinner or when he told you how beautiful you looked the next morning when you woke up in his arms. But just because you didn't know how to respond to his beautiful words other than with smiles and incoherent sounds of happiness didn't mean you didn't appreciate them. On the contrary, you loved the comforting warmth that flooded your insides every time he smiled at you, looking at you with pure love in his eyes. It made you feel special in a way that no one ever had before. It reassured you that you were on the correct path to happiness.

"I love you." You mumbled against Clark's chest and felt him tighten his grip on you, trapping you in his strong arms. You let the warmth of his body envelop you, slowly dissipating all your troubles. His simple presence was more powerful than any drug or medicine you could take, effectively making you forget all your problems in a matter of seconds. His hug alone was able to lift your spirits, restoring color and joy to your tired expression. That was the effect he had on you.

"I love you too, sweetheart." Clark whispered against your hair, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. "Now, will you let me take care of you?"

[nightfurmoon]

SECRET FROM THE BHO HANDBOOK FOR VILLAINS

Spoilers beware!!

SO Thor (a crew member) posted a HD version of this drawing on Twitter (source below) that you can find in the latest book, but in the book it was so low quality you couldn't really understand a thing. So now that it's in HD, I went ahead and decoded it!

For those of you that want to try, here is the decoder (if you got no clue where this comes from, it's from Flug's handbook):

Aand without further ado, here's what it says! First in Spanish, then in English translated by me (some words I had to guess because of the tears so they are indicated by the ?):

English:

Yes it is just as vague and confusing in Spanish. But here it is!

[saintescuderia]

pancakes (pt. 4)

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

A/N: apologies if this isn't 100%. i wrote this in between travelling to japan to attend suzuka. and then i got sick and couldn't even go lol.

P4 - L-sits and pull-ups

Charles Leclerc was known for being a nice guy. 

All the boys knew it. Lando experienced it when he saw how Charles was genuine with service staff whenever they went somewhere. Alex had experienced it in how Charles treated his family, leaving the F1 boys to spend time with Arthur whenever F2 joined the schedule - or when his mother visited the Paddock. Whereas George had just done a quick FaceTime to his mother on Mother’s Day, Charles had sent Pascale Leclerc a luxury basket with a surprise yacht trip and a massage.

“She was having a bad week.” The Monegasque reasoned when the boys found out.

Pierre’s PS5 was a result of Charles’ kindness; sourcing it for his upset friend who had missed the drop. Max's apartment was a result of Charles' kindness; helping him look for places in his home city for the Dutchman looking to buy property in the foreign Monaco. Max owed Charles a lot.

If not for his apartment, then for his F1 seat.

Mercedes were taking too long. Charles knew someone at Red Bull's junior team who could help him score an interview with Helmut Marko. And when you told Charles to stop being so nice to Max after all the drama that happened in F2, he shrugged and said it was the nice thing to do.

So you, a Torro Rosso trainer, helped Max Verstappen with an interview.

Because Charles was kind and he asked you.

And there was nothing you wouldn't do for Charles Leclerc.

Charles’ circles especially were all aware of you before he even joined the grid. It was just that sort of thing. Everyone knows everyone in motorsports. All those boys had seen you hanging around him at the karting races. Were it not for the stark difference in appearance, some might’ve thought you were family. Some did. Because for the longest time, that’s what you and Charles were. Family.  

You were always there for him. You celebrated him when he won. You supported him when he didn’t. You were always the first person he went to when he finished his race. Not his parents, not Jules, not anyone - you. 

He would come to you and you would quickly repeat some key English phrases for the interviewers who would surely come for him. You would pat him on the back and offer a warm smile - no matter the result - and offer some feedback based on what you saw. Performance was your speciality after all.

Then, after everything, you guys would finish with a homemade plate of your pancakes. No matter what. That’s how it went and how it would always go. 

Until 2018.

That had been a shit fucking show of a year. The rookie trio had been super confused when they finally arrived at F1 and saw you dressed as Hospitality. Charles gave no answer to Lando, Alex or George, no explanation to why he barely acknowledged you. It had been Pierre, the one who had been there through it all, who had quietly explained to them what had happened.

For a while, Alex had a hard time talking to Max when he found out. 

Charles hadn’t been surprised that the grid had found out. Nothing ever stayed a secret in this fucking place. NDAs were a joke. The whole agreement between him and Charlotte had been unearthed by some lower ranking Ferrari employee who didn’t know how to keep shut. Then again, Charles had expected it to come out eventually. Half the drivers were dating for PR anyway. 

Ferrari were already on his case about finding a new replacement, a pretty girlfriend for him to post boyfriend material pictures with so it can ‘increase his numbers’ with the female fanbase. Since Drive To Survive had done well to popularise the sport with a whole new demographic of F1 fans, teams were trying to capitalise on this as much as possible. Charles quietly suspected that this was part of the reason why Ferrari approached Carlos.

That and they probably wanted to get rid of Seb as quickly as possible after he found out what happened between to you and raged.

Though, Charles could understand Seb’s stance on it. He himself was conflicted about it, half the time unsure if he had made the right call to listen to Mattia. He had just been hurt and upset and his father had just passed away and the press had been vicious and Charles was just desperate to fulfil his dream of getting the coveted seat. 

Well, your joint dream. 

It had been the dream of the both of you. It was why you worked just as hard as he did. You had taught him English. He had taught you Italian. He networked and raced. You built cars and trained. He had helped you get a job in Torro Rosso. You had helped him get a seat in Alfa Romeo. 

Which, of course, led to him getting a spot in Scuderia Ferrari. 

Except by the time he was putting on the red, you two were no longer speaking to one another. Or, he was no longer speaking to you and you finally accepted he had cut you off. Gone were the days where he was searching the crowds for your face, rushing to you after the race finished.

Five years ago, he stopped eating pancakes. 

He knew you still made them, of course. And not because pancakes had been your everyday breakfast since you both turned fourteen and you started weightlifting and tracking your macros. He knew because he had seen some Alpine reserve driver eating them. 

His name was Oscar Jack Piastri. F2 Champion who also won F3 and the Renault Cup. He had more trophies than anyone else his age. For a moment, Charles thought it was because you back training drivers and were working with him.

Arthur later refuted this when Charles was grilling him that no, you weren't training Oscar Piastri. You actually hadn’t had much interaction with him when you would come down to F2. 

“Does this mean you’re talking to Y/N again?” Arthur had asked, assuming that’s why Charles was asking about you. “Can we be friends with her again?”

“No.” 

“You know maman still doesn’t believe what happened.”

Charles was known for being a nice guy, but he hung up on his brother. Charles really was one of the kinder drivers, but when Alex told them about the tweet, he had scoffed and sneered. When Oscar Piastri himself arrived in orange and held his hand out to greet the nice Monacoan driver, Charles glared and kept his arms crossed. Fuck this. He was not going to shake Oscar Piastri’s fucking hand. 

Even though, deep down, Charles knew there was no need for this. Arthur had confirmed that Oscar really was just a really talented driver - Y/N hadn’t trained him. This was no Max Verstappen situation.

Moreover, it wasn’t like Charles was in Daniel Ricciardo’s position.

If it weren't for the million cameras recording the first meeting of the two Australian drivers, Charles could only imagine Daniel's reaction to the rookie. It was one thing that Oscar essentially took Ricciardo's seat.

The other was that everyone had seen him with you.

Admittedly, Daniel had a reason to not want to shake Oscar’s hand, Charles could reason. Even if he still thought Ricciardo was an espèce de putain merde for what he did to you. 

Still, Charles couldn’t explain it. He wouldn’t explain it. He didn’t need to. The grid had so far understood it perfectly fine; you don’t go near Y/N. When Logan had joined the grid, Alex had the good sense to quietly fill him in on what had happened.

Why the fuck couldn’t Lando do the same?

Which brings us to right now: Bahrain 2023. A control unit failure meant a DNF for his first race of the season. When is this bad luck going to end? Charles retired his car, managing to make it past the McLaren garage on his way to the Ferrari red at the end of the Pit Lane.

It was just as well that his car was slowing to a stall. It meant that he managed to catch a glimpse of the McLaren garage - and the naive Australian rookie stood with a plate in his hands, very clearly eating some pancakes. 

Charles almost drove into a mechanic. 

It was 3am. $uicideboy$ was playing through your headphones. You weren’t wearing any shoes. 

This could only mean one thing: you were doing calisthenics. 

Your arms were shaking slighting as you bent your elbows and tucked your legs in before straightening them. Your grip on the parallette bars was slipping but you engaged your core tighter, hoping to keep balanced as you straightened out your legs and held the L-sit position. 

Oscar had DNF’ed on lap 13. The media was already going wild with questions about his decision to ditch Alpine for McLaren and whether or not this was just karma. McLaren looked horrible. Even his teammate had finished 17th. No matter your feelings on the young Brit, even you had to admit Lando Norris was a decent driver. 

During the course of pre-season preparations, wind had carried the gossip that Zak Brown had revealed the car to the team earlier this year with a sub-par level of enthusiasm. Whilst it wasn’t uncommon for cars to arrive at Sakhir with plans for future upgrades… you hadn’t thought it would be this bad. For McLaren. At this rate, the MCL60 was looking like a back of the field car. 

What’s more the team was struggling. One only needed to look at their qualifying session to see how bad it had been. Engineers giving mixed reports. Oscar’s radio not working and getting out in Q1. Lando getting mixed tyres and getting out in Q2. A whole ass clusterfuck, in your opinion.

And Daniel had been there, smiling smug whenever the camera decided to pan to the Red Bull garage.

The song changed in your headphones. Your arm strained. You dropped, fell forward. Cue the stream of expletives that would’ve made even Guenther blush.

You knew that going to the gym after the race had finished up - a night race that - was going to mess up your sleep schedule. However, you were too wired after everything to go to sleep. You needed the dopamine rush. There was too much going on for you to process any other way.

Because, firstly, you needed to get rid of the image of Daniel’s smug smirk that was currently etched into your brain.

You had skipped your post-dinner protein shake and had your coffees black today. You had started your session with a series of HIIT sprints on the treadmill before you did as many pull ups as your body would allow. It had been quite some time since you had done calisthenics training so religiously but you were already internally creating a new program for yourself. 

That is, you were already mentally preparing for the cut you had decided to undertake the moment Daniel Ricciardo had walked into the gym after finding out he'd lost his seat. And blame you for it.

You pushed yourself up off the ground and came to your parallette bars again. You grabbed each one and then lifted yourself up again. You closed your eyes and willed your brain to focus purely on the lactic acid running through your body. 

Because, secondly, you were stressing more than you should about Charles’ DNF.

You had watched the testing sessions carefully. You always did. Always keeping an eye out on the red car with the black T cam. Charles hadn’t done too bad but, obviously, it was hard to give a genuine judge. Everyone always sandbagged.

For example, Red Bull didn’t look as strong in testing, but then came out on race day and finished as they did. You could be happy for Max, especially since Jos was in attendance and knew just what that meant… but you also knew how it would look for Ferrari that Carlos had finished fourth and Charles hadn’t even finished the race. 

The car did look strong through. That was evident by how Ferrari had done in qualifying. Charles had out qualified Carlos, a narrow Ferrari 3-4 behind a Red Bull 1-2. However, your former childhood best friend had a bad luck streak unlike anything you had ever witnessed. 

And even though the word ‘former’ was in the equation, you never liked seeing Charles like this. Even if he was likely the reason no one in the grid spoke to you anymore.

Well, until now.

Because, thirdly, Oscar Piastri threw a spanner in the works.

You knew how it was going to look. You knew. It was one thing for you to interact this closely with a driver. It was another thing entirely for you to unofficially train him. However, as Zak Brown had found out, there was no way you could be allowed to join McLaren as a performance trainer for Oscar.

When the young driver had filled you in about his meetings with Zak Brown and his particular stipulation, you called him an idiot and told him to sign. When Oscar filled you in about his new plan to be able to work alongside you through all the loopholes his father's lawyer found, you called him an idiot and told him it wasn't worth it.

"I beg to differ. If you don't want to, that's fine. But not because of whatever drama happened."

He knew the drama. It was impossible that a team principle had looked into having you as his driver 's trainer and not found out what had happened. It was also impossible that Oscar Piastri, former Prema driver - as in, former Arthur Leclerc teammate - and current teammate to loose tongue Lando, didn't know about you and Charles.

You had honestly just waited for the moment he would bring it up. He never did.

Because Oscar, you were coming to learn, was far more level-headed and mature than most the drivers on this grid. And he was so young. You didn't want to see anyone fuck that up. You really, really didn't.

Still, you said no.

Then a week later you saw that fucking tractor make him DNF.

You leaned forward and brought yourself down into a handstand, counting to ten before bending your elbows and lowering yourself slowly. You lifted yourself up and then tucked your legs once more. Your whole body was shaking more and more know but and you fought to breathe through it. You finally lowered yourself and let out a deep huff. Whilst you weren't pleased with how out of practice you were, you were a little pleased that you finally managed to lower yourself - instead of falling down.

You looked ahead at the mirrors and then saw a familiar face of the driver walking into the gym. Oscar dropped his gym bag near yours and went straight to the treadmill to warm up. You kept your eyes on him as you held yourself up on the parallettes and watched the young driver fiddle with his phone and earphones before starting a light jog.

You took a moment before you pulled yourself up and went over to him. Oscar met your eyes as he continued to jog. He pulled down earphone but you said nothing as you pressed the button to increase the speed. Oscar raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"45 seconds on. 15 seconds off. 20 repetitions." You said. Oscar nodded and put his earphone back in. You shook your head. He frowned and pulled them down.

"You don't drive with music so don't play anything." You said. "Feeling something in your ear needs to become second nature."

He nodded and you went to his phone and pressed pause. Then you made a voice when you noticed that Ed Sheeran was playing.

"Don't judge me." Oscar said.

"I am. You're working out to fucking Ed Sheeran." You responded with a scrunched nose. Oscar shook his head, smiling slightly, but said nothing else. In the silence, you observed his form and counted his breaths. You noticed slight irregularity with his inhale and exhales and immediately pulled him up on it.

And so you spent the rest of the night training Oscar Piastri.

By the time you both finished, and he gave you a tired and sweaty high five, the clock read five thirteen in the morning.

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