#hopefully third part will come out tomorrow

[carmenized-onions]

Doing Too Much. | House Call

logline; Appliances can reach their breaking point, when you push them too far. Same goes for people.

[!!!] series history, this is the sixth; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

[New Thing!!] Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin' added to.

portion; 4.8k

possible allergies; eatin' meat, besides that, we're pretty good actually. did somebody say calm before the storm....?

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns, but girl is said a couple times, i believe.)

After this chapter, I'm entering my era of couch hopping as I move to a new city n start a new job. I'm really excited for the chapter after this one, so hopefully I actually get time to write it-- But that's just my lil warning if you're left rereading for like two weeks </3 But I'll def be stalking my activity/inbox so please do yap to me

Monday morning. The next morning after everything. Well, closer to noon than morning, at this point. You’re supposed to have, what, a work ethic this week? After the most insane weekend of your life? No. You’re lazing around and doing fuck all. No matter who calls. Well… Not completely no matter, but like, most people.

When you check your phone, you’ve gotten a text at 6:43 A.M. Unknown number. Ah. Carmen. You put him in as Carmy, and put his nickname as ‘Mister New York’. Listen, old nicknames Mikey ingrained in your brain die hard.

It’s a simple text, deeply un-romantic.

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

Then, four lines of four perfect categories. Flawless. Purple first, even. The hardest category. And then,

‘Morning’

Stupid. Incredibly stupid, to be enamoured, by this. You reply,

‘Good morning!’

‘Connections Puzzle #342’

And then a failed jumble of coloured squares, you get one out of four categories. What the fuck is 'dogleg' and since when has it meant taking a sharp turn? You follow that up with,

‘Fuck you.’

Aside from Carmen, you’ve actually gotten texts from a couple people. Your boss at Eden’s asking if you’re alright. What the fuck did Cicero say? Oh well. You tell him you’ve ‘been better, been worse. Will be okay by next week.’ Perfectly vague, and you still get wired your cheque and tip out. Alright, maybe Uncle J does deserve your free labour.

Speaking of, the next text on your itinerary is from Uncle J, just info for the winter nuptials of Vinnie and Mira. Oh yeah. Three-hundred guests, you remember that part. You also remember him saying it’d be an ‘easy gig’… He did not mention you’d be the only bartender. This is going to be a nightmare. Oh well. You text back that despite it being an open bar you get to put out a tip jar. He just reacts to it, ‘haha’. That sounds like a yes to you.

And then, adorably, a selfie from Syd, wearing the collar and pins you’ve gifted her, under a green sweater. Cutie. You hype her up accordingly.

Besides some texting though, Monday is relatively unbusy. No calls. No emergencies. No businesses knocking down your door for your services. You’re thankful for a break, letting the inertia set in, finally being able to relax after fix after fix after—

Tuesday comes, you get sent another perfect round of New York Time’s Connections around half past six in the morning, along with a good morning text. And again, you fuck it up. You send him your Wordle results this time, as an act of rebellion. You then ask,

‘How’s reworking the menu going?’

‘Hard to say’

‘Ask me tomorrow’

God he’s an awful texter. Horrifically dry. You know you’re down bad beyond a belief when you find that endearing. You spend Tuesday drowning and pruning your plants after depriving them for so long.

Plus working on your art piece for Carmy. You’re pulling out old film photos, a canvas, and a load of bleach—It’s like high school art class all over again— Surprise surprise, the handyman who loves to up-cycle is a mixed media artist. Who could’ve guessed?

While trimming a photo, an exterior of The Beef, a picture frame on your wall falls down behind you, you tut, turning your head to it, chastising the air. “Mikey! It’s a copy, relax! I’ve still got the original print…”

There’s every chance you’re insane— No, you’re definitely insane. But you’re allowed to be, your best friend died, you’re allowed to talk to the air as if he’s still around. Sometimes the timing of doors swinging open for you and things falling down are just too uncanny to not be a ghost.

Wednesday arrives, and again, just after 6:40, Connections results. And the Wordle, this time; plus a ‘Good Morning’. It looks like this is simply just your thing, now. Every morning, the second both of you get up, you send each other puzzles and wish a good morning. You don’t mind that. It’s nice to have a ‘thing’, with someone. With Carmen.

Part way through the day, around two o’clock, you get another text. Two, actually. From Carmen, in quick succession.

‘Are you busy?’

‘Don’t worry if you’re busy. Can call Fak’

You’re quick to reply, frankly deeply offended.

‘Are you fucking firing me????’

‘I’m gonna get ready. Text me details’

While getting dressed, you watch three dots bubble, bubble, bubble… He’s taking forever, just don’t look at it, you’ll get anxious for no reason. No jumpsuit today, you’ve got to switch it up every now and again. Navy cargo pants with the perfect number of pockets and zippers, and an orange Chicago’s Kindest shirt, tucked in. Hm. Looking in the mirror, hickey is still there. Lighter, but there. Foundation? No. You’ll sweat it off and that’ll just bring up more questions. If Syd asks you’ll just tell her you fell down the stairs… On your neck. She's not the type to confront anything remotely sexual anyways.

Speaking of Syd, before Carmen can text you back, she calls you, which is fair— Don’t leave a Carmen to communicate. You stick your phone in the crux of your neck and answer while you pack your utility belt. This feels nearly nostalgic. “What’s fucked?”

Carmen is in the background; you can hear the tail end of a sentence, grumbling. “—Don’t call—”

“My life.” She responds without missing a beat. “And also, Carmy’s stove and oven.”

“Oh.” You squint. “What the fuck happened?”

“Overuse? I actually don’t fucking know, it just stopped working. We plugged it in and out— He even reset his apartment’s breakers. I dunno what’s wrong with it. It’s probably got something to do with him putting his fuckin’ jeans in there.”

“…He what?”

You can hear him in the background, again, clearer this time, grimacing, “What are you doing to me?”

Syd does not mind him at all, continuing, “I know! He’s fucking weird!”

“He’s extremely weird.” You like him a lot. “I’ll be over soon, were you guys like, mid-cooking?”

“Yessir.”

“Christ, alright… I think I have a dual burner hot plate laying around somewhere, you want me to bring it—”

They both speak clearly this time, together, “Please.”

You’ve got a pile of things to give to them anyways, and maybe you miss Carmy’s face. Just a little.

Instead of just buzzing you in, Carmy comes down for you. When he sees you through the door window, carrying a cardboard box, he almost breaks into a full run. He’s somehow opening the door, grabbing the box from your hands, and chastising you all at the same time. “You should’ve left it in the car, I would’ve—”

You step in through the entryway and kiss his cheek, cutting him short. You can’t help yourself, it’s the first time you’ve seen him since and you feel like a giddy teen. The teenage girl in your head is no longer just in your head, she’s fully manning the station. “You’re very sweet. But it’s also not heavy.”

When he continues to be frozen, the regret starts to mount, “Is—Sorry, is that okay to do—?”

“It’s very okay to do.” He manages to reply, with haste. Nodding to himself. “It’s good.” He nods again, then marches off, expecting you to follow to the elevator. You do.

“What floor?”

“Eighth.” He sniffs; you press the button. He stands next to you, looking you up and down. He astutely observes. “Orange.”

“Yeah.” You smirk, looking back at him, “Turns out, businesses can have two colours in their designs.”

What’s a little roasting of fellow small businesses between two not just friends?

“Oh yeah?” Coy, smirking. Oh no. You’ve gotta get the teen off the controls. He tilts his vision to stare at your jacket. Ah. You opted to wear your Carhartt instead of his jean jacket.

“Didn’t wanna give Syd more questions.” She already guessed you’re a sugar baby, you don’t want to wrap Carmen in on that too. Especially since ideally in a month or two he’ll be your boss. Hm. The Bear is going to need an HR.

He hums, nodding. “We’re not telling Syd?”

“What’s there to tell?” You grin, crossing your arms. “You suddenly have free time, Bear?”

He takes a beat, thinking, then just takes a deep frustrated yet amused exhale. “I’m gonna fuckin’…” He can’t think of a threat. “…Get you.”

You snort, “You’re gonna get me?”

“Fuck you—!” “You’re gonna fuckin’ get me, Bear?”

“I—” He tries to hold a straight face, it doesn’t work. “Yeah, I am.”

“Can’t wait.” You nod, grinning, turning back to the doors. “You told me to ask how menu’s going tomorrow.”

“I did.”

“It’s tomorrow.” The door dings, opening on the eighth floor; you step out together. He switches his grip to hold the box in one arm. Alright Biceps, we don’t need to brag here...

“It’s… We’re getting there.” He grimaces. “Syd’s recipes are always… Almost perfect.”

“Ah.” You nod, you know your friend well enough to know where this is going. “And she fucks up one thing hard?”

“Mhm.”

“And when you tell her it’s okay and give her a hand she just feels worse?”

He nods. A touch surprised you’re right on the dot so quickly. “Everything ends up perfect, but I think she’s finding the edits…”

“Demoralizing.” You walk down the hall together, he nods. “I know what she needs, I’ll find an in.”

“You always do.” He hums, you walk just a touch ahead of him, unknowingly walking past his door. He pulls you back by the back of your jacket, making you stumble back into him. This seems to be this villain’s intention; as when you turn around, he’s quick to grab your chin and kiss you.

“It’s very good.” He emphasizes, again, before opening his door and acting like everything’s totally normal and fine. Since when did he turn the tables and make you the desperate one? Son of a bitch.

Ah. Actually, subtract any attraction you had in this moment— He lives like this? Books on the floor, by the window. Jeans on the dinner table, because they were in the oven. The kitchen actually looks alright— You’re almost certain that’s purely for utilitarian purposes while they’re working on the menu. This motherfucker better have a bed frame or him asking you to sleep over would be downright offensive. God, he’s wonderful. God, you’re an idiot.

You find Syd at the table, moping, head in hands. Carmen sets the box down, sitting beside her. You pat the top of her head. She silently moves one of her hands to go over yours. You nod. The silent exchange of girls who know.

“Yeah?”

She nods, grumbling. “Yeah.”

Carmen has no fucking idea what’s happening and he’s never been more intrigued by a near wordless social interaction in his entire life. What? You’re not even making eye-contact. What the fuck is happening?

You fish through the box with your free hand, grabbing a pot. You place it in front of Syd. “Look.”

She peeks through her fingers. A tiny but flourishing nursery pot of basil sits before her. You speak. “You’re gonna hyper-fixate on this basil I’m gifting you, and then you’re gonna crack back into it with the dual burner until I’m done fixing the oven.”

She nods, putting her hands in her lap, “Yes, Chef.”

You pull out a second nursery pot, setting it down for Carmen. “For you.”

“What for?”

“Basil grows like a motherfucker and it’s getting unhinged. I need to start pawning off to people that’ll make good use of it. A-K-A, chefs.” You look at Syd, pointedly, “Talented chefs.”

You hand off the heating pad— Wrapped in brown paper with a card tied to it, to Carmen. “For Nat.” You add, when he looks confused, “Can’t imagine I’ll see her sooner than you will.”

He looks even more confused, when you hand him a spray bottle full of reddish water. It’s one of the good spray bottles, too. Continuous. Carmen wouldn’t know the difference, but you do. “Rosemary. —Water, that is.”

He squints; you clarify, gesturing to your own hair. “You mentioned, losing hair, so— Thought I’d make some, with the trimmings of rosemary I had. Got ginger and cloves in it, too.”

Why have you trapped him in hell? You’ve remembered such a specific off hand from days ago and acted on it? And he can’t express the grandiose level of affection he feels right now? Are you serious? You’re the devil. You’re absolutely the devil. He just coughs out a ‘thanks’.  

“And, the pièce de résistance,” You pull out the old ass, boxed up double burner countertop stove. “A stovetop that ideally fuckin’ works. It was my single claim to fame in my college dormitory.”

Carmen’s already opening the box. Sydney smirks, curiosity peaked. “Was that legal?”

“You a fuckin’ RA?” You grin, poking her forehead. “It was not. And that’s exactly why everyone loved me— Didn’t serve them fuckin’ hot pockets.”

The configurations of Carmen’s apartment would be great for literally any occasion besides the current one. The kitchen is narrow, and so, when you pull out the stove to check the back, there’s an estimated no fucking room left for Carm and Syd, so they sit at the dinner table with your stove top. You’d think they’d look like they’re doing a cute hot pot. No. They look like two conflicted and confused twelve-year-olds working on a science project.

So do you, honestly. Wiring is definitely more your speed than plumbing, but if you’re being honest, this is the first oven you’ve worked on without your dad, and you’re having a hard time remembering everything. There’s a lot of embarrassed Googling on your phone, when you're sure they’re not looking. They can’t know you’re even slightly incompetent!

You’re pretty sure it’s just a couple damaged wires, fried from overwork— Easy fix, if you had wire. You don’t. Slightly harder fix. But soldering is your bitch really, you’re in your bag. You look stupid, wearing chunky goggles and a respirator, but you’re in your bag, baby! What’s that one saying? Skills make you hot? That’s not a saying.

But it is true. When Carmen’s able to peer into the kitchen, quickly looking over his shoulder when Syd takes a moment to write a measurement or direction down, you look stunning.  Respirator and all. You just look correct there, in the kitchen. His kitchen. So stunning he feels guilty. Do you find it annoying? Constantly fixing errors behind him? Probably. You say it’s not a lot of work, but that can’t be true.

“How’s The Bear, ‘sides menu rework?” You ask, raising your voice in the kitchen.

“S’good.” Carmen. “I’m in hell.” Syd. Not hard to tell which statue is lying, here.

Syd stutters on, “Nat’s takin’ care of baby Michaela— Which is very good and—and cool, actually.”

“But?”

“But we’re back to handling the business side entirely ourselves, for like— The next month. Maybe two? Fuck, are we doing the wedding without her?” Sydney almost burns her sauce, Carmen’s quick to move it off the burner.

He mutters, “Don’t even start to think about it. It’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna figure it out.”

“Oh yeah, wedding— Have you gotten your menu yet?” You call from the kitchen, muffled by your respirator.

“Oh my god!” Sydney exclaims, and Carmen is wincing. She can’t tell you things are going wrong; doesn’t she know that? You’ll fix it, if things are wrong. You always fix it. Fix him. You’re gonna put him in your phone as Carmy Bad News. If you haven’t already. Start a support group with Tif.

Syd continues, “They’re so fucking particular and somehow also vague—Like, ‘we want salmon and chicken’ for main course— What kind of preparation? ‘Surprise us!’ Okay, how about roasted chicken—? ‘Mmmm, no, not that’. I’ve been told ‘non quello’ at least ten times in the last four days.”

No, you’re witty. Bad News Bear. Fuck, that’s definitely his name in your phone, isn’t it?

“Fuckin’ nightmare. Y’know, I’m the only fucking bartender? For like three hundred guests? Thank God they’re not asking for a custom cocktail or anything, I’d lose my shit.”

Sydney laughs, and she steps back into her flow easily, reducing the sauce without burning it, now. She looks more serene than she has in days. What? How are you doing that? What are you doing? Are you casting a spell?

“Can you even fucking imagine what their couples’ cocktail would be?”

You groan from the kitchen, laughing in return, “Not you too, Syd! Must you make me work!?”

“C’mon maestro, make a cocktail!”

“Bleh. Uh… They give long island iced tea energy, but it’s a wedding so— Like a boozier negroni?”

“That sounds fucking disgusting.”

“I didn’t say it’d be good, I said it’d be their couples’ cocktail.” You’re both giggling, like school girls. It’s like you said— You become teens, together.

Despite the fact that Syd is making an incredibly complex dish, and you’re fixing an oven—His oven— Ridiculing the other impossible tasks set out for the both of you… Despite all of that, you’re laughing.

Carmen is, what, nearly thirty? A restaurant owner, with a full crew, who attends Al-Anon, and is only now truly registering the power of an unsolvable burden being shared. Not fixed, shared. Talking. Laughing. God, this all comes so easy to you, doesn’t it?

You finish soldering, test each burner, and the oven— All working, thank God. You quietly cheer in the kitchen, removing your respirator and goggles. “We’re good here! Fixed!”

“C’mere!” Syd calls out to you, and so you do. Eagerly. She hands you a fork. Unprompted, she does the thing. You’d missed the OG, really.

“Beef Oxtail, pressed in a Foie Gras casing, seared. Basted in a King Oyster mushroom sauce. Pureed greens on the side.”

“I never know what the fuck you’re saying.”

She pushes the side of your face with the palm of her hand. “Put it in your mouth and chew.”

You want to make some sort of kink joke, but you respect the already struggling man in the room and take a bite. Hm. Hm. You put a finger over your mouth, swallowing. “...Now it might just be my unrefined palate.”

“That’s why we have you try it.” Carmen pipes in. Syd nods, following. “It’s important to know the baseline.”

“…It’s got like,” You hand the fork to Syd so she can try it, while you think. “A bit of a bitter aftertaste? Which might be the… goal?”

Syd spits it out the second it touches her mouth, she shouts your name, your actual name— A rarity. She’s so terrified that she forgets the Walk-In bit she’s been in on all week. “I just fuckin’ poisoned you— Oh my god?! Are you good? That was— Fuck! You swallowed that?!”

She grabs your face like a concerned mother, also maybe to check if you have superpowers, you’re not sure. All you know is there’s a golden opportunity to make another sex joke and you have to hold back. Life is so unfair.

Carmen takes a quick taste, also spitting it out. “I’ve got it, Chef, don’t sweat.” Immediately looking to the drafted recipe card to see where they went wrong.

Syd almost squeezes your cheeks like a stress ball but thinks better of it, letting go, groaning, beyond frustrated at this point. “You shouldn’t have to fix it— I should fuckin’ have it, at this point.”

Carmen's trying to ignore how much he relates to the sentiment. He's not the focus, right now.

“We make mistakes, Chef—” “Syd.” You snap your fingers, pointing to her, interrupting Carmen. “Can you help me grab something, from my car? It’s kinda big.”

Carmen’s quick to chime in, already going to untie his apron, “I can—”

“No!” You look at him pointedly, trying to communicate through look alone. He kind of gets it? “It’s… Girl stuff.”

Syd squints. “You need me to help you carry a big girl thing?”

“…Are you fuckin’ helping or are you gonna poke holes?”

“What are you actually dragging me out for?”

“Technically I do actually need your help grabbing something, it’s just not a girl thing. And it's also not from my car.”

“Oh?”

You walk out of Carmen’s building with his keys, and gesture out to every apartment buildings treasure trove— The spot everyone throws their furniture when they move out and don’t know what else to do with it.

“Bookshelf!” There is actually one pristine looking bookshelf, a cheap one, definitely just something from IKEA. But it’s better than the fucking floor. “I spotted it on my way in, we’re gonna bring it up for Carm.”

She groans, hating the concept of manual labour, but still walks with you and grabs one end anyways. “Why didn’t you make Carmen carry his own bookshelf?”

“Because you need a fuckin’ pep-talk.” You pick the other end of the bookshelf up. It’s thankfully not that heavy. You walk backwards so you can keep facing Syd.

“…I don’t—” “Yes the fuck you do.”

She kisses her teeth, you frown. “What’s up, Adamu?”

“It’s just fucking annoying— I keep, I keep fucking it up. I keep—Keep—”

“Doing too much.”

She gives you a look, ‘are you serious?’, type look. You continue. “You’re doing too much. You’re not cooking like you.”

“I can cook like Michelin—”

“I never said you couldn’t. Watch your step.” You interrupt, walking over a bump in the sidewalk. “You can do star level shit, Syd. But that’s a grade, not a type.”

She kind of reels, at that. You continue, “You cook great complex dishes, you always have, I’ve tried them. But now, you’re all caught up trying to prove some shit, to Carmen, to—to— Who gives stars? The tires guy?”

She laughs, almost dropping the bookshelf. “Yeah, I’m trying to impress the tires guy.”

“Fuck you.” You snort, stepping up the stairs. “What I’m trying to say is, you should make what you want to eat, not what you think you should eat.”

She nods, you stop on top of the stairs, both taking a second to breathe. “…Thanks.”

You nod back, hands on your knees for a second before standing back up, opening the lobby door. “I’ll always be your cheerleader, Syd.”

“More like coach.”

“Can you let me have one hot girl career, please?”

When you get back up to Carmen’s, he’s already grimacing. You and Syd are split apart by the bookshelf standing between you in the hall. “Fuck is this?”

“It was free and I’ll clean it!” You press your hands together pleading. “C’mon, you can even put your jeans in it!”

“Jeans on a bookshelf?”

You turn to Syd. “Better than the oven.”

“I think he’s doing that to dry them.”

“I think it’s ‘cause he doesn’t own a dresser.”

“It’s both.” Carmen clicks his tongue, single-handedly picking up the bookshelf and carrying inside. Alright, does he need to show off this much? Whatever. It’s definitely not making you feel any type of way at all.

You squint, watching him walk further in his apartment, and then to Syd. You speak at the same time. “He stays doing too much.”

As promised, you wipe down the bookshelf, making sure it’s free of grime and roadside pests. Syd and Carmy work together in the kitchen, with a now functioning oven. You load the shelf up with the books on the floor— Thankfully they’re piled into categories already, so you don’t have to bother him about that.

You’re tempted to clean his living room, but that would probably be rude, right? Don’t want him to take it as you saying he’s a slob. But they are taking a while… Alright, you’ll just throw out trash. You won’t fold blankets or pick up dishes or anything. Just trash! No big! He can’t be mad at you for that.

You pile together the garbage, then sneakily throw it out in the kitchen trash can as fast as you can, before he looks. He’ll think he’s just sleep cleaning, or something. “How’s it goin’ in here?’

Carmen pipes up, eyes focused on the dish as Syd plates it. “Good.” Syd holds the plate in one hand, and silently corrals you with the other to sit at the table. You do. She sets it down the plate before you, handing you a fork and knife.

You look up at her expectantly. She shakes her head. “Eat first, this time.”

She looks serious, so you nod, cutting into the dish. It’s different from the last one. Instead of oxtail, it’s pastry. Or at least, a puff pastry exterior. You’re pretty sure it’s Pillsbury, you remember Carmen buying that, the other day, on your excursion.

Inside it, you believe is the beef oxtail, there’s other things, too. Some sort of sauce, some greens— Oh well, no time to bask in the cross section because Syd looks like she’s about to explode. You take a bite. You nod, chewing.

Syd starts, “Searing the duck caused the bitter taste— So instead of- Of searing the outside, I coated it in the mushroom sauce, the greens— Not pureed, this time, for texture. Your basil, too. There’s a crumble of feta, for a subtle tang. And then wrapped it all together in puff pastry, and baked. It’s sort of like, a varied take on a beef welling—”

“You made a fucking gourmet hot pocket?” You swallow, wheezing. The second you say this, Sydney’s focused face beams, laughing, like she’s just pulled off the most perfect prank of all time.

Carmen was so intrigued and focused on Sydney’s explanation, that you watering it down to hot pocket and being right makes his entire system reboot. He cannot stop smiling, aghast. He's been helping Syd make a hot pocket for the past hour?

“I told you to make what you want and—” wheeze “—you make a fucking hot pocket?!” You double down, laughing with her, she’s trying to defend herself but she can’t stop wheezing in tandem.

“I— I can’t fuckin’ stand you!” You snort, covering your face with your arm. “I hate your ass, oh my God, Syd.”

“Did—” snort “What did you think?” She recovers, slowly but surely.

You shake your head, handing her the fork. “It’s sick, Syd, obviously, it’s fucking perfect�� Chef.” You tack on at the end, almost forgetting. “I’m not gonna be able to have an actual hot pocket, ever again. You’ve ruined my life.”

She takes a bite for herself, nodding. She does a small cheer, pumping her fist. “Let’s fucking go.” She points her fork at you— Purely on muscle memory, and you both instantly remember the days of her testing out recipes and you pairing them on first taste. She’d point her fork to you like a microphone. It was a fun game between two nerds.

It’s a reflex response for you, even now. “Barolo. Savory, dry, red. A young one, though. Light body. Could also do an Amarone, if you’re not buried in money.”

She hands the fork off to Carmy to try it, then writes the pairings down, mumbling, amusement still in her voice. “How the fuck do you do that?”

“I honestly don’t know. I think I have some wires crossed.”

“Fire, Chef.” Carmen swallows his bite. “We cannot call it a hot pocket on the menu.”

“Then what’s the point!?”

Leaving Carmen’s place is objectively the most awkward experience— But also the funniest. You offer to wait for Syd and drive her home— You’ll need a second to pack anyways while they make their business plans.

When you do offer, of course, Carmen stutters short, almost asking you again to sleep over or at the very least stay late, but saves it, realizing himself.

Syd accepts the ride offer. You pack up and wait for her to be done. When she is, Carmen offers to carry your things down with you both, in which Syd accuses him of thinking you’re both weaklings— He does not have a defense case for this, he has to let you go. You can tell he wants to kiss you at the door, and you do too. Sadly, you’re equally down bad, but he can’t know that…

You say your goodbyes, Syd helps you load your tools and hotplate in the trunk of your car. Your phone vibrates. Text from Mister New York.

‘Look up I’m on the balcony. 8 floors.’

You look up, sure as shit, he’s out there, cigarette in mouth. Unlit. He waves, you wave back. He texts again, in rapid succession.

‘Thank you’

‘For helping Syd’

‘And the oven and the hot plate and the bookshelf (not necessary)’

‘nbd + I think it’s v necessary’ Does Carmen understand acronyms? You’re risking it, here.

‘and cleaning my trash’ Sonofabitch.

‘ah fuck. I don’t think you’re messy!!! I just wanted to help!!!’

‘I know. You’re you. Be safe.’

Oh goddammit, stupid dry texter, saying something so gah. You jump as Syd taps the roof of your car behind you, getting your attention. Watching from a far distance, Carmen laughs, though you don’t notice it.

“Are we going?”

“Yes! Sorry!” You hurriedly pocket your phone, waving one last time as you get in your car. Syd sits beside you in shotgun, her pot of basil sat safely in her lap. You drive off.

You’re half way down the road, when Syd pipes up again. “So y’all are fucking, correct?”

You almost brake check the guy behind you.

 “How do you fuckin’ do that!?”

the opening is dedicated to my dear friend and i who have sent our wordle results to each other everyday for the past like year and a half.

Things of note, one - people usually skip the shit up top-- I made a spotify playlist! Listen if you like, I'm not your dad.

Two, I know this is a self insert right, i know what I set myself up for-- Do you know the hell i am in as a syd x carmy girl writing scenes with both of them and it NOT being them? What have I done, to myself? The only coping mechanism I have is imagining in this universe Syd is a lesbian. And that is helping.

The hot pocket recipe-- Who fucking knows, if that would taste good? I think it would? In theory? I fucked with a dish from Daniel NYC, to make it into a bit. Would it work? ....Beef wellingtons do, I can't see why this can't???? Idk man.

Rosemary water w cloves and ginger does fucking work btw. I am part of the so stressed out i lost my hair brigade. Also basil does grow like a motherfucker.

We're seein' a little bit of that tenseness that comes with being in an 'almost relationship' both of them feel like they've got something they can fuck up now. Poor birds. They'll be okay. Probably.

I'm really excited for the next chapter, I don't wanna give shit away, but it's gonna be,,,,,, different. I haven't seen anyone try this kinda formatting on tumblr before, and I'm excited to see what you think. Between my moving and how complex the choreography of it is gonna be, it's gonna be a much longer minute between this chapter and the next, I fear. But listen, you already knew your ass was gettin' spoiled with a chapter every two days. Hehe.

As always, please come yap to me in the replies/inbox/dms/reblogs. I love to hear thoughts!! It sustains me, baby!!

Next Part

[tossawary]

The 3-day trial system in "Ace Attorney" is absolutely nuts. I know the game is intentionally making fun of corrupt & dysfunctional legal systems and is also upping the pacing to create a sense of urgency & excitement, but I truly underestimated just how hysterically funny it would be to play this trial system. They have created some WILD logistical worldbuilding.

Like, someone gets murdered on Day 1. Phoenix Wright finds out about this on Day 2 and goes to talk to them. This person has less than 24 hours to find their own legal representation before a public defender is assigned to them, and Phoenix has to do his own investigating before the trial tomorrow morning. Day 3 is the first day of the trial, in which Phoenix is doing everything he can to prove innocence and somehow also solve the actual murder in the middle of court, and hopefully at least get the Judge to agree that they need another day of investigation and interrogation. There's an in-universe rule that a trial can only go for 3 days, so by Day 5, the third day of the trial, this nonsense needs to be wrapped up. The first game doesn't explicitly say that this is a death penalty system, but it's heavily implied at points, so depending on the case, Phoenix has THREE DAYS to potentially SAVE SOMEONE'S LIFE.

And this is all hilariously, horribly BONKERS for Phoenix, but it's just as awful when you start getting into all the little bureaucratic details of trying to make this legal system actually work. A public defender might get a case at 5 PM for a murder trial at 10 AM the next morning?! (I know public defenders are often horribly overworked IRL. This is part of what the game is mocking.) Autopsies are being performed within, like, 12 hours of the murder?! They're getting results back from the forensics labs within 24 hours?! How much of the city budget is SPENT on law enforcement?! The overtime hours must be horrifying. No wonder things are constantly falling through the cracks; people are fucked if their defense attorneys are on vacation that day or if the witnesses aren't answering their phones that day.

And, also, like, did the courthouse not have OTHER trials scheduled for that day? Are they reserving a courtroom in this courthouse for emergency murder cases? Even if there's a 3-day limit to speed things up, it's a big city, shit happens, how are they seeing people this quickly? Are there just separate courthouses for all crimes below various degrees of murder? (Obviously, family law and small claims and minor crimes and such must be handled somewhere else, but still.) Or are people in Japanifornia getting last minute calls from the overworked scheduling people at the courthouse like, "Hi, witness for an assault trial, your testimony has been rescheduled because someone was murdered last night. This could take 1-3 days. We'll let you know." Then that poor witness is like, "Shit, I took a day off of work for this??? I have to call my boss again now. Fuck you!!!"

It's tempting to write an AA fic about a series of murders in this world, in which people are obviously being framed for these crimes but it's not clear who the real murderer is, because this is all happening to keep postponing a different trial, because murder cases apparently go to trial immediately in the AA universe as #1 priority. Someone needs this extra time to steal the evidence from the police station and frame someone else for their crime, because if this postponed trial goes to court, then a different, older, unsolved murder is sure to come to light.

This features a public defender OC who is... the most exhausted person... of all time... trying to hold the line of human rights. The burnout rate must be horrifying.

[sissylittlefeather]

Puppet on a String: A Rusty Wells Story

A/N: Girl Happy is one of my favorite Elvis movies and Rusty is one of my favorite characters. I had to write him a fic! I've been kicking around this idea for a long time. Hopefully you all like it!

Special shout outs to @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for listening to me bitch and moan and helping me when I got stuck over and over and over again with this one!

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also teasing, light edging, and a fistfight, so mentions of a bloody nose

Word count: ~5.5k

Here's some Rusty to get you in the mood:

When Rusty promised your father to go to Fort Lauderdale to supervise you, he had no idea what he was in for. He'd seen a picture of you and you looked rather nerdy, so he wasn't worried about it taking up too much of his time. Then, when he saw you in Florida, looking just as dorky as your photograph, he breathed a sigh of relief and gave himself permission to play shows, pursue other girls, and leave you to your books. 

The girls had brought you along not as a friend, but as their tutor for the week since exams were not long after the Easter holiday. You were excited for the opportunity to go to the beach and didn't realize what it would mean to be there with them. They were perfectly content to leave you alone in the room every night as they went out and had fun with all the boys that chased them around during the day while you went unnoticed. 

On the third night of the 10-day holiday, Rusty gets an angry call from your father. 

"She said she hasn't had any fun at all! That she just sits in her room all the time!"

"Sir, I-I thought you wanted her to be safe?" Rusty answers nervously. 

"I do! But I also want her happy! She was in tears! When I call her tomorrow, she better be in a much better mood or I guarantee you won't be." 

"Y-yes sir. She will be." 

******

The next day, Rusty sets out to find you and try to make sure you have at least a little fun. This is too important to trust one of his friends to get it done. However, he can't remember which room you're staying in. Eventually, he asks one of the girls he knows you came with and she looks at him like he's grown horns. 

"You want y/n? You?!"

"Yeah... I just... what room is she in?" 

"She's in room 220. Either reading or crying. That's all she ever does." The girls look at each other and snicker. Rusty takes note of how they talk about you. It seems a little rude, since you're there to help them. 

"Thanks." He walks away toward your room. Before he knocks on the door, he presses his ear to it and hears what sounds like sniffling. He peeks through the window and sees you sitting on one of the beds, tears running down your cheeks. Some part of him softens and he's overwhelmed with a need to hold you in his arms. He shakes his head and tries to focus on the task at hand, knocking softly on the door. It takes another few minutes and two more knocks from him for you to finally open the door. You've wiped your face, but he can still tell your nose is a little red. 

"Hi. I'm Rusty Wells. Me and my combo play down at the Sandbar Club every night. I wondered if you might like to come with me to the beach?" He says it quickly, smiling and trying to lay on the charm. 

"Me? Why? Are you making fun of me?" You look up at him curiously. "Did the girls put you up to this?"

"No! I-I just... come to the beach with me. Or we can go sailing? Or rent a motorcycle? Whatever you want, honey." 

"Why?" You narrow your eyes suspiciously. 

"Can't a guy ask a pretty girl to go to the beach without getting a million questions?" 

"Ha! A pretty girl? Now I know you're up to something. No thanks. I don't want to end up as the butt of anyone's jokes." You go to close the door and he stops it with his hand. 

"Look, listen. I need to take you out. So will ya just...? Okay?"

"You need to?"

"Yes. I'm here because I work for your dad and he sent me to make sure you're safe and happy-"

"My father did what!?"

"He just cares about you and wants you to have a good time, okay? I told him I'd make sure you do. So will ya please just come with me to the beach or somethin'?" You look him up and down skeptically. When you think about it, it's kind of sweet that your dad cares enough to make sure you're safe and happy. And this Rusty character doesn't seem too bad. He's really cute and a part of you wishes he actually just wanted to hang out with you. Maybe you can spend an afternoon with him and satisfy your dad. You can declare the trip a failure and go home tomorrow. Then at least Rusty can say he tried and not get in trouble with your father. 

"Okay, then. But not the beach. Let's go sailing. I've always wanted to go sailing." Rusty smiles, relieved that you finally agreed. 

"You got it, honey. Let's go." You go back into your room, smooth your hair, and put some fresh powder on your nose. Then, you grab your purse and head out the door to go sailing with Rusty. 

******

Much to his surprise, Rusty genuinely enjoys your company. You're funny in a way he's never experienced with a girl and he finds himself laughing more often than he expected. He's also surprised by how attractive you are with your little glasses and clothes that look like they could've belonged to your mother. Your smile is sweet and your eyes sparkle when you get excited. It's unexpected, but he actually really likes you. He only intended to spend a few hours with you, but before he knows it the sun is setting and it's time for him to get ready for that night's show. Then he says something that shocks even him. 

"Come to our show tonight."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly. I'm sure you want to take a real date." He realizes that you don't think of yourself as a real date and he kicks himself for telling you about working for your father. 

"No, really. I do this song called 'Wolf Call', I'll come get you out of the crowd-"

"Rusty, it's okay. You don't have to do that. I had a great day with you. I promise I'll tell my dad I had fun. You're off the hook for today." His smile falls a little and he nods. You'll never take him seriously now. 

"Well, alright then. What will you do tonight?" 

"Oh, probably just read. It's fine. Thank you for a wonderful day."

"Yeah, you're welcome." You take your purse from him and go into your room, shutting the door before he can say anything else. He stands outside your room and is startled when he realizes he's wishing he could've kissed you goodnight. 

******

The next day, he knocks on your door and offers to take you out like he did yesterday. You know he's going to have to report back to your father, so you agree to go with him once more. He tells himself he's only doing it as part of his job, but in reality he just wanted to see you. At the end of it, he tries again to get you to come to his show, but you decline and settle in to read for the night. 

This pattern continues for the next few days. Rusty knocks on your door in the morning and you spend the day together. In the evening, he tries to convince you to come to the show and you decline. 

It's not that you don't want a date for the evening. You'd love to go out with a boy who is actually interested in you, but you never get attention from anyone other than Rusty and you know that's just because he doesn't want to upset your father. Maybe he can be helpful, though. He is a guy, so he should know what you need to do to be noticed. You start to work up the courage to ask for his help. 

By Thursday, Rusty decides he's going to insist on you joining him for the evening. He enjoys your company so much during the day that he actually finds himself missing you at night. He knocks on your door determined to get you to believe that he really likes you. 

"Hey, honey, I need to talk to you."

"Good. I need to talk to you too." His heart skips at the possibility that you might want more from him. You grab his hand and pull him into your room and he can hardly breathe. 

"I need-"

"Please come-"

You start talking at the same time and both stop. He gestures for you to keep going, so you do. 

"I need you to help me. I want a date tonight, but there's no way I'll get one looking like this."

"Oh... I-I think you look just fine... in fact-"

"No, Rusty, you don't have to be nice. It's okay. I know you don't want to actually go out with me." His heart sinks. 

"But, I-"

"Please help me. Help me know what guys like so I can find a date." He swallows his disappointment and nods. 

"Alright, then. What are you thinkin'?" You take your glasses off and toss them on the desk and he sighs. He thinks they're cute. 

"There. Now what?" He swallows the desire to say that nothing about you needs to change. 

"You need clothes that'll show off your figure. Something tight or short or both." You go to your roommate's suitcase and throw it open. 

"She said I could borrow anything. What do we like?" He reluctantly walks to the suitcase and pulls out some garments. 

"Try this." He hands you some short shorts and a cropped tank top and swallows deeply, trying to imagine what you might look like. He's never seen you in anything that shows your body, even on the beach you wear an oversized coverup, so he's not even sure what to expect. You smile and head into the bathroom with the clothes. He sits on the side of the bed and fidgets with his fingers in anticipation. When you finally open the bathroom door and step out, he has to actively remind himself to close his mouth. 

"Well? What do you think?" You spin in a slow circle and his heart skips. You have a beautiful body and all of a sudden he can't stop imagining you with no clothes at all, pressed against him and whimpering. He clears his throat and adjusts himself quickly while you're facing away. "That bad, huh?" 

You turn back to face him and assume it must be terrible since he hasn't said anything. Your eyebrows are raised and a lump begins to form in your throat. You're not sure why you want him to like the way you look so badly. Spending so much time with him has you confused and wishing it wasn't all because of your father. 

"You look..." He can't even finish the sentence. Instead, he wants to just wrap you in his arms and show you what he thinks, but that's not what you want. 

"Ridiculous, huh?"

"No! Not ridiculous at all. I-"

"If you didn't know me, would you think I looked good?"

"Yeah. I think you look amazing. That's... wow..." You roll your eyes. He really is so very sweet. 

"You don't have to lay it on that thick. It's okay." 

"No, I'm serious." He stands up and walks over to you, looking down at you. All of a sudden there's an energy in the air and it feels like he might kiss you. Just as you close your eyes to let him, the door of your room swings open. 

"Oh, wow! Y/n, you look incredible!" Rusty jumps back and your roommate walks to you. She's tired of the way the other girls have treated you this whole time. After sharing a room with you she's realized you're more than the bookish nerd everyone sees when they look at you. "I'm going to do your hair and makeup. Then you're coming out to the beach with us today. It's time you had a little fun too." 

You look over at Rusty, who is trying desperately to hide his disappointment that you won't be spending the day with him. 

"Rusty? Do you mind if I go with the girls and try to pick up a real date?" That hits him like a slap in the face and he shakes his head silently. 

"No, that's fine, go with the girls. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Maybe! If I find a date then you don't have to worry about me anymore." His heart sinks even further. Then you run to him and kiss his cheek and he feels like he can't breathe. "Thank you, Rusty. You're really very sweet." 

He nods and then turns and walks from the room. Rather than heading to the beach, he lays on his bed looking at the ceiling and wishing he hadn't told you about your father. 

******

He doesn't see you all day and there's a growing feeling of emptiness in the pit of his stomach that he can't explain. Even flirting with the other pretty girls feels flat. At the show, he tries to play enthusiastically, but he just wants you to be there. 

You eventually do appear and his eyes light up. But his hopes are quickly dashed by the group of boys that surrounds you, all fighting for your attention. With your hair and makeup done and a cute little dress on for the evening, you're positively stunning and the guys are excited that there's a new girl to pursue. They fall all over themselves trying to impress you. At first, you weren't sure what to do, but you've adjusted to the attention pretty well by the time you make it to the show. You look around demurely at each guy and respond flirtatiously, giggling and sipping your drink. 

Rusty watches this scene and a burning feeling of envy rises inside him. He noticed you first. And all these other guys just want you because of the way you look now. There's more to you than that and he seems to be the only one that cares. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to keep singing, but the bubble of rage inside him just keeps growing. 

You sit at the table with the guys surrounding you, desperately trying to figure out which one you like best. None of them really stand out, though. In fact, the only one you really want to talk to is Rusty. You look up at him on stage and he looks so good in his red shirt and black pants. If only he would actually like you. There was that moment in your room where you thought he might kiss you. Still, he probably was just caught off guard by the way you look in these clothes. For some reason you want him to like you for who you really are and not just how you look. You're brought back to reality by one of the guys putting his hand on your knee. 

"Didja hear what I said, baby? My father owns a company in Detroit." 

"Mmm." You nod genially and try to refocus on the men that are all trying to talk to you at once. It makes you uncomfortable that this one in particular is touching you, but you figure that's just part of the game. You turn to another guy and smile, trying to listen to whatever he's saying. But when you do, the one slides his hand further up your thigh and squeezes gently. You jump a little and turn back to him with your eyes wide. 

Your discomfort does not go unnoticed. Rusty is keenly aware of the way this guy is touching you. He watches you closely to gauge your reaction. If it seems like you like it, he'll have to find a way to let it go, but if you don't...

"Please move your hand." Your voice shakes as you say it, but you try to be firm. 

"Aww, baby, come on. You mean like this?" He slides his hand even further up your thigh, so that his fingertips are under the hem of your skirt. You gasp and try to wiggle away, but he presses his hand up even further. 

Before you can say anything else though, Rusty is there. He drags the handsy guy up by his collar and punches him hard in the face. 

"Rusty!!" The other guys jump into the fight and in a flash it's four against one as Rusty tries to fight them all. He holds his own fairly well, but after a few seconds, he's overpowered and knocked to the ground with a bloody nose. You rush to his side and the other guys all exclaim and try to get your attention. Ignoring them all, you pull Rusty up off the ground and manage to get him to his feet. 

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to ruin your date.” He pauses and looks around. “Dates?"

"Nonsense. Let's just get you cleaned up." He smiles down at you gently as he leans on you. He can walk just fine, but he's taking advantage of the opportunity to have his arm around you. Something about it just feels right. 

When the two of you get back to your room, you open the door and get him inside to sit on the couch. His knuckles are banged up and his nose is bleeding pretty good all over the front of his shirt. You quickly grab a towel and stuff it under his nose and then find a first aid kit to clean out the cuts on his hand. It takes a minute, but you eventually get him squared away and then collapse onto the couch next to him. He pulls the towel away from his nose and looks over at you. 

"I think the bleeding has stopped."

"Good! What on earth were you thinking?!" He looks at you sheepishly. 

"I was thinking you didn't like being touched like that and I wasn't going to just stand there and let it happen." You melt and look up at him. 

"Thank you." He smiles softly and then looks down at his hands in his lap. 

"I'm sorry I messed up your night, though. I know you were trying to-"

"It's okay, Rusty. I'd rather be here with you anyway." He looks up at you quickly. 

"Y-you would?"

"Yeah. Because I can do this." You walk over to the desk and grab your glasses, putting them on your face. "That's so much better. I can see. I couldn't even tell if those guys were cute!" 

He chuckles as you sit back down on the couch next to him. You sigh and look down at the floor. 

"Sorry; I know that kind of ruins the illusion." He tries to catch your eye and eventually does. 

"No. Don't apologize. I like you better like this."

"Wait, really?" There's a moment of silence as his eyes flick between yours. Then, he whispers. 

"This is how you looked when I fell for you." He looks up at you through his eyelashes and your heart flutters. 

"Oh, Rusty." His eyes drop down as he prepares for the disappointment. You put a finger under his chin and make him look up at you again. "I'm falling for you too." 

He blinks as his heart pounds and he tries to process what he's just heard. 

"You're-?" But you interrupt his sentence by leaning in and pressing your lips to his. He winces a little with the pressure against his tender nose and you pull back abruptly. 

"Oh! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking..." He shakes his head quickly. 

"No, it's okay. Do it again. Please." You smile and lean in again, kissing him as softly as you can. You hover above his lips and whisper. 

"We should get you out of that bloody shirt." He nods and lets you unbutton it and push it off of his shoulders, dropping it on the floor next to the couch. Your fingers go directly to the patch of hair on his chest and he shivers a little. He covers your hand with his and then pulls your fingers to his lips and kisses them gently. Without another thought, you crawl into his lap to straddle his hips, your skirt riding up so that you can press yourself against him. When you feel how hard he is, a soft moan escapes your lips. 

"Is this just because of the way I look now?" He puts his hand on the side of your face and looks into your eyes sincerely. 

"Honey, I've wanted you for days. You're just so stubborn; I couldn't get you to believe me that I meant it." You breathe out a laugh. 

"I am kind of a pain in the ass, aren't I?"

"The most beautiful pain in the ass I've ever seen." He runs his thumb over your cheek affectionately. 

"Rusty, I..." You roll your hips forward against him and whimper. "I want to do this... I do... I just don't know how..." 

"Is this your first time?" He raises his eyebrows. 

"No, not that. It's just never been very pleasant and... I want to enjoy it... with you..." He relaxes and softens. 

"Oh, honey. I promise I'll make it nice. If that's what you want." You nod almost frantically. 

"I do. Please." He smiles and kisses you gently. His hands run up under your skirt and he looks to you for permission to take your dress off. You nod and he slides it up and over your head. He goes back to kissing your chest, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your breasts as he removes your bra and lets that hit the floor too. You run your hands in the back of his hair and he moans quietly. After a few more seconds, he stands up from the couch, keeping you wrapped around him, kissing you over and over until he makes it to the bedroom. You whimper softly as he lays you on the bed, moving his lips down your neck to your collarbone. 

"Honey, I wanna taste you. Would you like that?" 

"I-I-I don't know. I think so?" A small feeling of fear rises in your chest as you grapple with not knowing what to expect. He picks up on your nervousness and gently moves your hair out of your face, stroking your cheek softly. 

"Okay, baby, you just relax, okay? I'm not gonna hurt ya." You nod, breathing deeply, and he continues kissing down your body, grazing his lips over your stomach to your thighs.  Your back arches involuntarily as you feel his lips on your legs and he pushes them apart to settle in between them. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby." 

"Yes, Rusty..." You whimper as he slides your panties down your legs. Some part of you feels like you should be embarrassed to be this exposed, but for the first time you aren't. Something about Rusty makes you feel at ease. 

"You're so pretty, honey. I'm gonna put my mouth on ya now. You just let me know if you want me to stop." 

With that, he presses his tongue to your center and you moan loudly. Nothing has ever felt this good before. He moves his tongue over and around your sensitive bud and electricity gathers in your hips. Another moan escapes you as he licks and sucks your clit feverishly. More electricity builds and he moves on you with more speed and intention. 

"Oh God... Rusty..." You're not sure what is about to happen, but it's like you're on the edge of something as he slides one of his long fingers up into you and tickles a specific place inside you. He feels your pussy tighten and moans softly. 

"Let go, baby... you're so close."

"Close to wh- OH!" You whine loudly as your orgasm crashes into you, washing over you in tantalizing waves of intense pleasure. He licks and finger-fucks you through it and you pulse and writhe and grab at the sheets. Finally, you start to come down and he backs off of you, lips glistening. 

"What was that!?" You ask enthusiastically. He smiles and chuckles a little. 

"Baby, I thought you said this wasn't your first time?" 

"Yeah, but that's never happened before. No one's ever... I mean... not with their mouth..." He kisses the inside of your thigh affectionately and then moves back up to lay next to you, rolling over and holding your face in his hand. 

"Honey, I don't know what kind of... boys... you've been with before, but a real man should always make you feel this good. I will always make sure you feel this good." 

You look up at him and resist the urge to blurt out that you love him. Instead, you pull him into a kiss and he moves his hand down to your hip, pressing his body against yours. He rolls his hips forward so that his erection grinds against your thigh and you gasp. 

"Rusty..."

"I'm sorry, honey. I-I-I-"

"It's okay. I wanna make you feel good too." You run your hand down his chest and stomach, following the trail of hair under the front of his pants and take his cock in your hand. The mild shock that he's not wearing underwear fades quickly when you notice that he whimpers and bites his bottom lip as you touch him. 

"You really don't hafta-"

"Shhh... let me take care of you." He whimpers again and his hips buck into your hand as you stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth. "Take your pants off." 

He quickly and obediently removes his slacks, trembling slightly in anticipation. You press hot kisses to his chest, moving down his stomach to just below his bellybutton. He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire, and runs his hand in your hair as you take the base of his dick in your hand and lick directly across the head. 

"Oh, fuck, baby..." You smile at his reaction and then pull him fully into your mouth. This part you know how to do and you can't wait to see him come undone with your efforts. You lick up the bottom of his shaft and then open your throat and press your nose into the soft patch of hair around his cock. He holds a handful of your hair and does everything in his power not to thrust into your mouth as you bounce up and down on him. The skill with which you suck him off surprises and impresses him and he moans and grips the sheets with his other hand. You keep working him with your mouth, your hands on his hips to keep him still. 

"Oh, baby..." He shudders as you pull him deep in your throat again. "'M gonna cum soon." 

You back off of him and sit up, stroking him teasingly slowly with your hand. 

"Not until I say so, you're not." You smile down at him devilishly and he groans. 

"Oh, you little minx. You gonna get feisty on me?" You giggle and lick your lips sensually as you move your hand a little faster. 

"You want me to stop teasing you?" 

"No. Fuck no." His hips buck again as he begs for enough friction to reach the orgasm that is so close he can feel it in the base of his dick. 

"Okay, how about this then?" You move to straddle his hips and then rub the tip of his cock along your entrance, where it slides over your slit easily with the wetness gathered there. He whimpers and holds your hips with both hands. You sink on him just a bit, pushing the tip of him inside you. 

"Oh God, honey, please." The sight of him whimpering and begging turns you on so much more than you ever dreamed it would. You've never taken control like this before, and certainly haven't ever had the confidence to tease anyone, but Rusty is so sweet and giving that he brings out a side of you that you didn't even know is there. He also seems to be enjoying it just as much as you are. His cock is rock hard and he sweats and pants with his eyes rolled back and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He's beautiful like this, all flushed and needy. 

You slide more of him inside you and he gasps. Your pussy is deliciously tight around him, the little sounds that fall from your lips driving him even more crazy. He's overwhelmed with the thought that he'd like to feel you like this forever and a shiver runs through him as he bites his tongue to keep from whispering that he loves you. 

Finally, you push him into you fully and moan with the sensation of being filled so completely. His dick is perfect to hit all the right places inside you. Lifting your hips, you drop back down onto him and he groans loudly. 

"Baby, I'm so close."

"Mmm not yet. Can you make me cum again? Without your mouth?" You're not sure what's come over you, asking for it like this, but it's like the words are out of your control. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it appears to be just the opposite. He smiles and licks his thumb, moving down to your center and rubbing circles on your clit. 

"Like this?" 

"Oh, God, yes..." You hiss as the feeling of his thumb on you combines with his cock pushed up inside you. "Fuck..."

He laughs a little at your cussing. He's drunk on you, drunk on your pussy, drunk on the way you make him feel, drunk on the need to be with you like this for the rest of his life. His orgasm is so close he feels like he might explode if he doesn't move soon. He pulls his hips back a little and thrusts up into you and you gasp. 

"Not until... I cum..." He whimpers and moves his thumb with more urgency. Your pussy tightens around his dick and he almost screams with the need to climax. 

"Y/n... please..."

"So... close..." He feels your walls begin to pulse around him and you throw your head back and cry out his name as the release finally washes over you, energy thrumming through your body from head to toe. "Now!" 

You don't have to tell him twice. He grabs your hips and lifts you just enough to pound you from underneath. His rhythm is erratic and frantic and it only takes a few seconds for him to slam into you one last time, cussing and moaning as his cock throbs inside you, shooting you full of his warmth. Eventually, his whole body relaxes and you collapse on his chest, both of you spent and breathing heavily. 

"Goddamn, baby."

"Yeah. Wow." He slides his softening dick out of you and settles you beside him with your head on his chest. "Rusty, that was..."

"More pleasant? I hope?"

"That was fucking incredible." 

"Two orgasms and you turn totally wild on me." 

"I'm sorry. It's true. I just never knew it could be like this." 

"Well, you're not wrong, honey. And I'm not complainin’. It was incredible for me too." You look up at him from his chest and he leans down and presses his lips against yours. After a few more minutes of laying there together, you go to get up and reach for the phone. He looks at you puzzled. 

"Baby, what're you doing?"

"Gotta tell my dad about this." He laughs and wrestles the phone out of your hands as you giggle and he puts it back where it belongs. 

"Although, I probably do need to talk to him." He says it quietly and you raise an eyebrow. 

"Why?"

"I need his permission."

"Rusty..." He looks at you for a second and decides he can't hold back any longer. 

"I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you. I think I finally found what I've been looking for on all these Easter vacations. I-I-I'd like to marry ya, if you'll have me?"

"Rusty, we just met." His face drops. 

"Is that a no?"

"No! It's a not yet." He looks away and nods. You grab his chin and make him look at you again. "But it's also an I love you too." 

"It is?"

"Of course it is." He smiles and pulls you into a deep kiss. When he backs away, he presses his forehead into yours. 

"Baby, I'm yours. You just let me know when you're ready. Until then, you can have me any way you want me." 

And that's exactly what you do.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley

[lvrhughes]

Best Friend's Teammate| Q. Hughes

if this does not line up at all, I've never been to rogers arena during hockey season and I literally just chose the first canuck to come to mind to so that's why we've got Brock

word count: 1.9k

pairing: Quinn Hughes x f!reader, platonic!Brock Boeser x f!reader

summary: there’s a family skate and your best friend convinces you to come, the issue being you can’t skate. but he has a solution, the defence man you’ve been crushing on will teach you

warnings: pretty fluff, kissing, falling?

requested: no

not my gif!

“I can’t believe you’ve lived in Vancouver for the past three years and you still don’t know how to skate!” Your best friend, and pain in the ass, Brock exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes once again, the third time this week he’s brought it up.

“Why do keep bringing this up? What’s happening?” You finally pushed.

“There’s a family skate tomorrow and I want to bring you” he finally caved.

Of course there was a skating event Brock would want you to go to. You looked up at him, he had his best puppy dog eyes out and you knew he knew he’d won once you looked at him.

“Fine.” You muttered crossing your arms, “but you have to teach me”

“Deal!” He was radiating excitement. “I’ll see you tomorrow, 10 am sharp Y/n/n” he called walking the path towards his place while you continued to yours.

What the fuck had you just signed up for, oh god. You knew Brock, so why you still agreed you didn’t know. Brock would definitely get distracted and leave you like Bambi on ice tomorrow, hopefully Elias would help you. Maybe Quinn would be there.

Everyone could see the small little crush you were pining over the young defenseman. It was clear to everyone but Quinn.

The morning rolled around sooner than you would’ve liked, having to get up earlier then you’d want. You had to search for the pair of skates you had from when you once tried to skate, several years ago.

About 20 minutes after you did find them, Brock showed up at your door, he didn’t even bother to knock he simply walked in.

“Oh dear Y/n” he chanted through the house, snooping through the rooms for you.

“Bedroom” you called back and waited for him to come.

He came running in, sliding his socks along the hardwood floor.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, but you got to promise you won’t just leave me” you made him swear to that, even though he’d break it at some point.

The drive to the rink was the worst part, you had time to think it over. You, who couldn’t skate, surrounded by hockey players, children, and other adults that could skate, you were bound to embarrass yourself. You tried to shake the thought of face planting in front of everyone but you could, but Brock noticed.

“Calm down, you’ll be fine.” He words barely comforted you but it was enough for the two minutes before you made it in the rink.

“What am I doing here Brock, I’m going to die!” You exaggerated, he let out a chuckle.

“No your not”

“How do you know?”

“Because even if I’m not with you, Quinn’ll be” he beamed.

What did he say.

“I’m sorry what?”

“I got Quinn to help teach you.” Brock looked so proud, you were going to kill him.

“You” you pushed your finger against his chest, “are dead to me.”

You knew you were being dramatic but you also knew he knew it was a joke. The smile across his face said so.

“Come on Y/n/n, he’s like the best skater on the team” he bargained.

“hmph” was all you mumbled out before finding a bench and sitting. Brock followed behind you, carry both of yours skates.

“Let me put mine on then I’ll help you” he offered but by some ironic luck, Quinn was there.

“It’s fine Brock I can help her” Quinn offered, Brock quickly accepted for you.

And so you were sitting on a bench, with Quinn at your feet tying your skates, definitely not how you pictured your Sunday going. He stood up, placing his hand out for you.

“Are you ready?” He questioned, no, but nonetheless.

“I guess” you said grabbing his hand, trying to stand. You hadn’t realized how unstable you’d actually be on skates. You almost immediately fell back, but Quinn was faster, he arms wrapping around your waist to stop you.

He let out a small chuckle, helping you stand up completely.

“Do you want to try getting on ice now?”

“God no, but Brock will kill me if I don’t”

So he lead you towards the ice, you could see Brock doing laps, talking to children as they came to him. He made it look so easy. Fuck it, if he could do it you could too.

Quinn skillfully glided on to the ice, you already envied that ability. He took your hand again, helping you to keep steady when you stepped on.

“Okay, just hold my hands we’ll go slow at first” he was so calm and nervous at the same time it almost scared you. But you did as he said, you held his hand, like you life depended on it, and he slowly skated backwards.

“That's good, just copy what I’m doing” so you tried, and you did it the first few times. The was before you caught a divot in the ice.

“Fuck” you said almost falling atop of Quinn, you quickly rolled off him.

“I am so sorry” you were quick to apologize but ur didn’t seem to care, he had a small smile on his face.

“It’s fine. It happens” and with that he got up and helped you up. This time only taking one of your hands, you missed the warmth he gave but wouldn’t dare say that aloud.

“You remember how to push?”

“Yeah”

“Okay do that, it’s the same as before but now you're beside me.” He was so gentle explaining how to push and glide it made you think skating was the easiest thing in the world, you just couldn’t understand.

He let go of your hand, you shook a little bit but we’re soon comfortable. He skated a bit ahead.

“Okay, now skate to me.” He told you. He had so much confidence in your ability, you thought. But you tried.

You made your way over to Quinn, slowly but at least you didn’t fall. Pushing and gliding your feet like he had shown you.

“Perfect” he said once you’d reached him, he took your hand again. He pulled you closer to him and spun. Giggles left your mouth as he did, he thought it was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Quinn I’m going to get dizzy!”

He slowed so you were just standing in his arms, it was peaceful. All the sound around had faded, it was just you and Quinn in that moment. His eyes stared down into yours, they were so beautiful.

He was so beautiful. That’s all you had figured out, he was gorgeous and you had a crush on him. Unintentionally your eyes darted to his lips, back they were quick to return to his eyes. You saw his eyes look to your lips quick before letting you out if his arms.

“Come on, let’s go get a hot chocolate, then more laps”

A slight disappointment filled you, but you knew Quinn was too good for you. So you skated beside him, still holding his hand, to get off the ice for a drink.

Once you two both had drinks, and had enough of them for the moment he put them beside all your stuff and brought you back on to the ice.

You skated laps beside him, some laps holding his hand, some without. You preferred the laps holding his hand. A shiver ran up your spine, Quinn noticed.

“Here” he said taking off and handing you the hoodie he was wearing.

“No it’s fine, you’ll get cold.”

“Y/n, I basically live on the best ice, I’ll be fine”

You had no argument against that so you took his hoodie, sliding it over your head. It was warm and smelt like him. You just wanted to curl up with it and never leave it.

Quinn’s heart melted at the sight, you in his hoodie, it was definitely too big for you, but he thought it was adorable.

“Y/n” Brock called, skating over before icing both you and Quinn.

“I see you learned to skate” he snickered towards the fact you were now wearing Quinn’s hoodie and holding his hand.

“Shut up”

“She’s actually doing really well” Quinn contributed. Brock just laughed in reply, almost challenging to what Quinn had just said.

You had to admit, you were extremely competitive and petty. So what Brock had did, gave you reason to try and skate better than him.

“I can skate.” You declared. “One lap and you have to admit that I can skate.”

He nodded, you let go of Quinn’s hand and began around. Brock followed beside you, Quinn behind. It was a peaceful lap, until a small child cut in front of you and if u didn’t try to stop you would’ve ran it over.

“Fuck” you mumbled, now sitting on the ice. Brock laughed.

“Oh shut up, that wasn’t even my fault!”

“I know but it was funny” he couldn’t stop laughing, until Quinn nudged him acknowledging the look in your face.

Quinn was quick to help you up, pulling you into his arms while. You hid your face in his chest, knowing they’d seen your reaction to the teasing. They didn’t need to see your reaction again, embarrassment overcoming whatever you were feeling before. Quinn wrapped his arms around you, it was nice. He was warm and smelt good. The urge to nuzzle yourself deeper in his chest was so strong, you made yourself pull away before you could give in.

“I think I’m done for the day.” You said, getting positioned to skate towards the gate.

“No I’m sorry I shouldn’t have laughed, please you were having so much fun with Quinn. Continue on, I’ll go find the team” Brock excused himself before you could deny, your feet were beginning to hurt making you want off the ice anyways.

“Fucker” you whispered under your breath, yet somehow Quinn still heard.

“Do you really want off?” He looked a bit sad, and you knew you couldn’t say no to the kicked-puppy look he had.

“My feet just hurt that’s all”

“If you want we can get off?”

“No it’s okay, let do some more laps”

He smiled, his smile was so pretty, god you were in love. So you did more laps with Quinn, staying on the ice until you had to leave.

Yet again right before getting of the small child appeared to trip you, this time onto Quinn. Your face flushed, now you laying on top of Quinn.

“I am so sorry”

You didn’t even get the extent of your apology out before Quinn kissed you, it shocked you. You froze for a second before melting into him. Your arms found a place around his neck, his wrapping around your waist to keep you on top of him.

You both did have to pull back for air eventually, much to both of yours disappointment. He helped you up from on top of him, on the ice, and pulled you against him again.

“I am so glad you didn’t yell at me” he laughed, placing a kiss on your head.

"Why would've I yelled at you?" A little confused, your tone laced with it.

"I mean I just kissed you, I didn't even ask." he was soft with his words almost embarrassed, you just smiled at him.

"I'd never yell at you, Quinn. I've loved you since we first met."

"Really? That was like three years ago." he seemed shocked, it was a little intimidating, you had to admit.

"I thought I was the only one" he admitted shortly after.

"You've loved me since then too?"

"How could I could I not?" He had a smile on his face, he was practically glowing.

"I love you so much, Quinn"

"I love you so much more"

[late-to-the-party-81]

The day after tomorrow

AN: I’ve been planning this part of the story for a long time and only just been able to commit it to paper. Additionally, it ended up longer than planned, so I decided to keep this one as fluff and put the steamy stuff in another instalment that hopefully won’t take too long to get out to you. This takes place immediately after 'Tomorrow is not too late', and forms the third part of the series.

Feel free to send asks about Ari and Angel.

Not beta’d, but a big thank you to @christywrites for letting me bounce ideas off them.

Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

If you would like to be on my tag list, then please click here.

Master List | Series Master list

Summary: You’ve realised you were ready in your heart to change the relationship between you and Ari, but the realities of what that will mean in a physical intimacy sense leads to old insecurities raising their heads.

Relationship: Ari Levinson x Female Reader (Angel)

Word Count: 3.7k

CW: Fluff, Angst, Self-esteem issues, Ari being the biggest teddy bear.

The pair of you didn’t announce anything when you walked back into the building, but it seemed as though everyone already knew. Rachel threw you a smile and an eye roll that seemed to say ‘it’s about time’, and Max came up and just bumped his arm against Ari’s with a knowing look. And for anyone who hadn’t managed to immediately work it out, the way that Ari was in constant physical contact with you the rest of the evening was a dead give away. In fact, the only alone time you had for the rest of the party was when you excused yourself to the bathroom. Ari had looked at you with puppy dog eyes, as though he was afraid you were about to make a break for it, and his fingers had continued to hold onto yours for as long as possible, until the physical distance was longer than both your arms. As soon as you returned, his thick arms wrapped straight back around your waist and dragged you down to your previous place on his broad lap. You didn’t mind though. Your body was still awash with endorphins, and your heart was light and you enjoyed being snuggled up against his bear-like form, your nose full of the scent of his aftershave.

You stayed pressed against him during the lighting of the Menorah and the recitation of the brachah, observing him with a new kind of wonder. It was amazing to you that just uttering a few words between you could make just a massive shift in your relationship. That and a few kisses. Your bows drew together at that thought, because you knew what came after kisses and not only was sex something that had felt performative, it had also been quite a while. Almost five months. Also, Ari was, well Ari. Sex on legs. A wet fucking dream. You had no doubt he would be good at it. No. Strike that. Not good. Absolutely fucking amazing. However, you were just you. 

Unwelcome thoughts intruded into your head. What if you were so rubbish compared to his previous girlfriends that he changed his mind about wanting to be with you? Kyle had never really had anything positive to say. The sounds of the conversation around you faded into a background hum, and all you could hear was the rapid beating of your own heart. Ari seemed to realise something was wrong because one of his large hands shifted from your waist to gently squeeze your thigh. However that brought to mind more sexual touching and your feelings of inadequacy grew even more. Would he be disappointed by the way you gave head? Would he think you too loud in bed, or not loud enough? What if, when he finally saw your body he was completely turned off? With your heart pounding in your chest, you leapt up from his lap with such suddenness, that the others lapsed into a surprised silence, the dreidel they’d been playing with coming to a stop. All of them looked at you intently - Ari most of all.

You took a little step back, your hands twisting together in front of you. “I… erm… it’s getting late…” You raised your arms above your head  and affected a broad yawn. “I probably ought to go to sleep. Not used to these late nights.” 

Ari’s lips twitched up into a little smile. “You know what, Angel? I’m pretty beat as well.” He reached out and snagged your hand with his, linking your fingers together and grabbing up the present bag with the other. “I think I’ll join you in hitting the hay. See you guys tomorrow.” With a small wave he bid the rest of the group goodnight, garnering a series of similar sentiments in return, and before you even had a chance to get your thoughts in order, he was drawing you out of the room and towards the stairs.

“Ari… wait.” You tugged on his hand and he came to a halt, turning around to look at you. He must have read the uncertainty in your face, or noticed the way your eyes darted, anxiety ridden up the stairs and into the darkness.

”Hey, sweetheart. Shit. I’m not trying to be presumptuous. Or at least not in that way. I’m just not ready to let go of you yet.” He took a few steps back down, in fact passing past you, just to stop below you so your eye lines were more level. “I promise no funny business, I just wanna hold you.”

You nibbled on your lower lip and looked down at your feet, and the bits of sand still clinging to your shoes. 

“But,” he continued, “if you really aren’t comfortable I can call you a cab.”

You considered his words, but must have taken a little too long to respond, because you saw the smile leave his eyes, if not his face, as he reached into his pocket for his phone. He looked awkward, something unusual for such a self assured man. Realising what he’d interpreted from your silence, you reached out, placing your hand over the phone clasped in his much larger one.

”You got a t-shirt and shorts I can borrow?”

At your words, the light returned to his eyes and his smile broadened into a grin. He shoved his phone away and then, without warning, scooped you over his shoulder, taking the rest of the stairs two at a time. You squealed in amused surprise and gave him a light spank on his ass, given it was so close to your face. You felt his chuckle rumble in your abdomen, and you couldn’t help but giggle in turn. In a matter of moments you were back on your feet at the top of the stairs, and Ari was dragging you down the hall towards what was presumably his room. 

When he pushed open a door at the end and gestured for you to precede him, you walked across the threshold full of curiosity - you’d never been here before and had no idea what to expect. However, it was just… normal. There was a desk holding a computer and a few notepads and pencils, a small bookcase with an eclectic selection of books, an easy chair placed close to the window that looked out across the beach, a dresser and a king-size bed, with cream and light blue covers. A door to the left of the bed presumably led to his en-suite. Overall it gave off an air of masculine functionality. There were a few framed pictures sitting on flat surfaces - ones of Ari and his friends and others that were presumably of his family. You turn a slow turn around the space, your fingertips trailing over surfaces and along the spines of the books. You could see Ari leaning against the doorframe leading to the bathroom from the corner of your eye, his arms crossed and a small smile gracing his pink lips, before he pushed away, placed the gift bag on the floor and began to rummage in his dresser.

Your short tour ended up at the side of the large bed, and you looked down at it, your anxiety fluttering once again in your stomach. This was Ari’s bed. The bed where he slept, probably naked. Where he touched himself. Where, no doubt he touched others - women more beautiful and experienced than you. You couldn’t imagine him not wanting to use his bed. But you trusted him, you reminded yourself, and he’d said there wouldn’t be any funny business. He was standing behind you - you could feel the warmth of his body radiating across the space between you, so with a deep breath you turned toward him, a smile plastered on your face.

His expression was soft, loving, as he looked down at you. He held a small pile of clothes in his hands. “Here,” he said, holding them out to you. “You can use these. There’s a spare toothbrush in the drawer in the bathroom, along with a fresh washcloth. I’m afraid I don’t have any make-up remover.” He stopped and cocked his head to the side. “I could go ask Rachel if she has any spare if you want?”

You took the proffered clothes and shook your head gently. “It’s fine. I presume you have soap in that bathroom of yours. I’ll manage.” You stood up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, still trying to bury your nerves. Ari stepped to the side as you edged past him and made your way into the bathroom. It was only when you shut the door and looked at yourself in the mirror that you let out a deep breath.

You were in Ari’s bedroom. You were his girlfriend and were going to spend the night in his bed. You! You peered at your reflection, trying to see what he saw, but of course, you could only see what you thought were flaws - how your right eye was just a little bit higher than your left, the small scar on your chin from when you’d fallen off your bike as a kid. You’d always thought your top lip a little too thin, and the space between your eyebrows and your hairline too wide. And, despite braces as a teen, two of your top teeth were still a little crooked. However, backing out now would be far too awkward, so, with another large inhale, you determined not to critique yourself anymore and damage your self-esteem further as you hurriedly shed your clothes and changed into the soft grey t-shirt and shorts Ari had loaned you. 

As you removed your shoes for the second time that evening and shed your bra, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh of relief. Nor could you resist the urge to hold the t-shirt to your nose before slipping it over your head. It smelled of Ari and beach, and you thought that scent could entice you to relax any day of the week. You were glad of the drawstring on the waist of Ari’s shorts, otherwise they’d have dropped right off you, and although his shirt was big on you, it didn’t completely cover your ass and you would have felt too exposed without the second item of clothing.

You found the toothbrush and washcloth with ease and set to removing your make-up as best you could, before brushing your teeth. Your skin felt tight from the soap, and another rummage through the drawer turned up a small travel sized tube of moisturiser. You tried not to think about any previous conquest of Ari’s it may have belonged to as you smoothed it over your cheeks. Eventually though, there was no more putting off of the inevitable and you bundled up your party clothes and hooked your shoes over your fingers and returned to the bedroom.

Ari was sitting, perched on the edge of his bed, waiting for you. He’d also drawn the curtains, and swapped the lighting from that ceiling to the small lamp on the table next to his bed. He held his own bundle of clothes in his lap. You really shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s not like Ari hadn’t seen you looking worse than this on many occasions before. But this was different, and both of you knew it.

“You’re all sorted?” he queried, and you nodded. 

“Yup, squeaky clean. Thank you.”

”I’m just gonna…” he pointed toward the bathroom you’d just vacated and you felt heat flood your cheeks at his chivalrous action. It was his room, he was well within his rights to get ready for bed where he wanted, but it was obvious he was giving you the space you needed. “You pick a side and I’ll be back in a moment.”

Alone again, you stepped over to the window, placing your clothes on the chair, and your shoes underneath, before pulling back the edge of the curtain and looking out across the beach. Lights from downstairs spilled out across the sand for a few feet, and some of the waves picked up reflections as they danced to and fro, carefree. Returning to the bed, you lifted the edge of the coverlet and slipped onto the left side of the mattress, lying on your side so close to the edge your ass was almost falling out.

True to his word, Ari was only a matter of minutes in the bathroom and when he came out you had to tamp down a jolt of desire. Even if he did normally sleep naked he wasn’t doing so tonight. He had on a light grey tank top and a pair of black, long legged pyjama pants, and somehow made the combination look like the most sexually slurring outfit ever conceived.

He looked a little shy as he slid into the bed next to you, turning on his side to face you. The soft yellow light from the lamp played over his features, and you didn’t even notice that you’d reached out to tuck a lock of his hair back from his face until the silky strands were between your fingers.

”I meant what I said out on the beach, Angel. I love you, and have for a long time. I was happy to wait for you to catch up with me, and as I’ve said before, I’m happy to wait until you’re ready for anything else, but I would love to hold you for a bit, if that’s alright?” His expression was so earnest, and you couldn’t lie that you yearned for his touch.

”I’d like that too,” you replied, and shifted toward him. He opened his arms and you lifted your head to allow the lower one to become your pillow. Your face pressed into the crook of his neck and shoulder, his shaggy hair tickling your nose, as his arms wrapped around your waist. The pair of you had cuddled many times before, but it had never felt this intimate before, despite Ari’s attempt to be gentlemanly. Your breasts just touched his chest, but below your waists, your bodies were angled away from each other. You felt his lips press against the top of your hair and you tilted your head back to look into his ocean blue eyes. He was so fucking beautiful, it almost hurt, and you felt a need grow within you, a need to feel his lips on yours once again, even if you didn’t feel worthy of his affection. “Kiss me,” you murmured before you could lose your nerve.

Ari’s lips turned up and his eyes crinkled as he closed the scant space between you. This kiss was as electric as that first one on the beach. His large hands held you gently, but firmly as his lips trailed across yours. He didn’t deepen the kiss until you opened your own lips with a soft whine, inviting him into your mouth. However, even then you could tell he was tempering his lust. Was he only holding back because you’d asked him to, or, the insidious voice in your head asked, was it because he didn’t actually want to be close to you? Your doubts rose in volume, a cacophony inside your mind, and you pulled back, shrinking away from him.

Ari looked at you quizzically. “Angel? Are you alright? I didn’t go too far did I? If I did, I didn’t mean to.”

”Oh? No!” You didn’t want him to feel bad about himself, and you felt silly, second guessing his intentions. “Nothing like that.” You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and looked up at him, shyly. “I just realised you haven’t opened your present yet.”

Ari raised an eyebrow. ”If you were concerned about that, then I obviously wasn’t kissing you properly. Nice try, but I think you’re deflecting. You actually wanna talk about what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours? If you’re having any second thoughts - any doubts - maybe we ought to talk about it sooner rather than later?”

You knew it made sense, but lying down like this felt far too intimate - far too intense. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, back up against the headboard and the coverlet pulled up to your chin. Ari followed your lead, sitting up next to you, but he turned his body to face you better. You twisted the fabric you held in your hands and opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, you let out a sigh and shut your mouth again.

”Sweetheart?” Ari said softly, and then leaned forward to brush the back of his hand against your cheek. “Whatever it is, we can work it out. I love you, remember? You’re my Angel.”

He was being so sincere, you could tell, but your own mind was twisting you around. “What if I’m not good enough?” you whispered, and a tear, unbidden, started to roll down your face. 

In a moment Ari had closed the distance between you, and he had you wrapped once more in his arms and pulled to his chest, and it didn’t feel awkward, it just felt like all of those previous times, back when you and Ari had just been friends. Best friends. “Hey,”he cooed. “Of course you’re good enough. You’re the sweetest, kindest person I know. I hope you’re not telling me that I’m not a good judge of character?”

You let out a ‘harumph’ sound at his gentle teasing. “Not like that. I mean, what if I’m not good enough… at sex?” The admission flowed out of your mouth like water over a cliff edge.

Ari eased you backwards, so he could look at you, disbelievingly. “What on earth are you on about?”

You wiggled in his grip and he let you go easily. You got up from the bed and started to pace back and forth in front of the window. “It’s been a long time for me. And I’m just me, and you’re…well, you! I’m a frigid cow, and you’re a sex a god.” 

Ari bristled. “Who told you that? No. Let me guess. Kyle?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, just wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. It was all the answer Ari needed.

”Sonofa… You know, if I ever meet this guy, it’s gonna be the worst day of his life. Angel, please come sit down. You’re making me dizzy with all that pacing.”

You climbed back onto the bed, but stayed atop the covers, your legs curled under you. Ari unwrapped your arms and held your hands with his own. “Now, let me know if I’m in the right ballpark… I’m guessing that foreplay was a foreign word to that douchebag? I bet he never took the time to warm you up. Touch you just right until you actually desired intimacy? He probably never worshipped this beautiful body of yours and made you feel like the most precious thing in the universe. Did he ever give you an orgasm? Or did he just use your body to get off and then roll over and start snoring?”

You peered at Ari, wondering how he knew so much, and at the same time you couldn’t help but imagine Ari doing all those good things to you. “I had orgasms,” you argued, not wanting to come off as a total doormat in your previous relationship.

”Ones that weren’t ’happy accidents’ or self-induced?” Ari was obviously psychic, and the way you ducked your head and looked away from him gave him all the answers he needed. “I promise you, Angel, when you’re ready for more, I’ll treat you right. I’ll treat you the way you deserve to be treated. As for your comment about me being a sex god…” his thumbs stroked over your knuckles and you couldn’t ignore how tuned-in you were to the softness of his touch. “I’m not going to do myself a disservice - I know what I’m doing, how to give my partner all the pleasure they’d wish for, but I need you to know that since I moved here, you’re the first woman to ever be in this room.”

Your eyes widened at his admission and a slightly shy expression crossed his face. “I mean, Rachel has been in here, but strictly in a platonic sense. And I’m not saying I was living a monk’s life, but there’s never been anyone special enough to bring here, and you know there was no-one at all after we met.”

”But…but…,” you stammered, feeling completely poleaxed by his admission. Yes, he’d said it, but you hadn’t thought he’d actually meant it. You wouldn’t have blamed him. “You’re so… I mean… women throw themselves at you all the time.”

Ari chuckled. “Yeah, they might, but I have standards, and to be honest, these last few months, all my attention has been solely on the most angelic woman I ever met.” You ducked your head again, feeling heat rise up into your cheeks in embarrassment at his words.

”So,” he continued, “I mean it when I say I will wait for you to be ready, and when you are, I’m gonna prove to you how good it can be. Now, will you let me hold you, and maybe give you another kiss before we sleep? I need to make the most of it, before you leave me for a few days.”

Tears of joy, mingled with a little shame at the way you’d second guessed him, gathered in your eyes. “Sure. And I’m sorry for being such a mess.” You pulled your hands from his to clamber back under the covers, allowing him to then pull you close once more.

”I’ve seen you worse than this, Angel,” he teased with a smile.

You grinned back ”Gee, thanks. Now, what were you saying about kisses and cuddles?”

As Ari’s lips descended on yours again you decided you need to trust both him and yourself as well as the love between you.

Tag list: @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions, @crayongirl-linz,

@nicoline1998enilocin, @king814318, @blackhawkfanatic, @scram1326,

@steviebbboi

@km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796

[yourstingrey]

do you think you could write a luke x y/n friends to lovers based on too sweet by hozier? Maybe have it be a little angsty like someone tells him he’s not good enough and so he distances himself. I really love your writing and feel like you would write it beautifully.

Too Sweet Pt.1

Thank you so much for this request I loved this idea its so cutie im so sorry it took so long for me to make but hopefully Ive done it justice this one is a bit short but I kinda reallyyyyy wanted to put it into separate parts (which i swear wont take as long but it will be longer cus i gotta get that juicy angst in better!!!)

Hot.

That's all I felt as I was training, That's all I ever feel when I train with Luke. Not because he’s insanely hot himself but he has to put his all into everything even if I ask for practice with sparing. I'm crouched down a bit less like a fighter's stance as Luke has already got me winded but I try to hold up my tough gaze as he stands in front of me mirroring my stance except he's not tired at all it looks like he has even lifted a finger but this is our third go and unsurprisingly he's won every time so far. “Y/N/N are you sure you don't wanna give up? I'm not sure I can watch your face get all sad when you lose again.” He’s smirking as he talks and for a second he puts his hand on his chest to fain sadness about me. In that split second, I take the opportunity to try to tackle him to the ground. 

He lets out a surprised Oof before he hits the ground I try to grab his hands to pin them down “I'm not so sure Luke I think you be pulling your sore loser face” Of course I didn't learn from Luke as my talking got me too distracted as Luke flips us over and now he's pinning me down into the dirt. He simply smirks and does a little tilt of his head pretty much signaling id lost. He stood before holding out his hand for me to get up which I gladly took from him. “Luke, I asked for practice. I thought you were going to go a little easy… I'm gonna have to sleep early or I'm gonna be so sore.”  Discomfort on my face as I brush the dirt off my shorts and shirt “About that…” Luke says with a certain tone I've learned means ‘I'm gonna try really hard to convince you to do something you're really not gonna wanna do’ “Oh god what is it, Luke…?” A mischievous look spread across his face “Apollo kids are having a small lake party tonight and I was thinking I could take you” I let out a taut laugh before squinting my eyes playfully at him “Weren't you already out partying last night! Chris was telling me all about it!” I watched his face flush a bit as he stood there watching me talk before stammering his words “Wait- when did you see Chris today I wasn't with you??” I narrow my eyes at him a bit “This morning I went on a walk and I ran into him yknow you're not denying it soooo i'm right you did go out…?”

He gets up from leaning against a pillar to come put his arm around my shoulders and start walking out of the arena “Well yes.. But! I wasn't hanging out with my best friend so that's why I'm telling you that you gotta come out this time!” 

“Luke you're always out so much lately don't you think YOU especially should rest, oh so great swordsman!” I clasp my hands to my chest whilst looking up through my lashes at him. He lets out something between a laugh and a scoff “You know that I do this all the time you're the one who always stays cooped inside her cabin almost all day usually!” Our steps absentmindedly got slower as we approached my cabin “I don't know Luke… I promised I was going to hang out with my siblings tomorrow and if I party with you I might forget or sleep in'' He opened his mouth to rebuttal me but I quickly cut him off “And andddd! You know I don't like to drink. I'm too nervous about being caught!” 

We finally got to my cabin but I stood outside because I knew Luke wouldn't be satisfied unless I let him try to convince me one last time. “For one, You see your siblings every day you live with them. Plus I know some of your siblings are coming tonight anyway!” I go to open my mouth ready to shut him down already but before I had the chance Luke swiftly made sure to playfully cover my mouth with his hand before tsking at me and putting his finger to his lips shushing me “Ahem as I was saying YN, I'll be with you the whole time you can rely on me the whole time, just go this once for me and if you hate it I'll never force you to come again!” 

He lowered his hand from his mouth to reveal my lips in an exaggerated frown. He let out a loud laugh before huffing out what sounded like ‘Oh c'mon now’ but it fell on deaf ears as his fingers went to my sides to get me to let out a laugh (well more than just one) I laughed so hard at his relentless tickles hunching myself onto him before we heard the laughs of my sibling behind and Luke turned back into a stoic statue practically I let my laughter die awkwardly as he separated from me. Rocking back and forth on my heels I look back at him “Well okay I guess I'll think about it… but this isn't a yes okay!!” He let out a small chuckle before slowly starting to walk backwards “I’ll see you later tonight” he flipped around completely to start walking away I let out a small laugh turning away to walk to my cabin door before something dawned on me, I flip around and yell back out to him “Wait Luke how will I know where to go!!” He turns back to me putting his hands behind his head with a sort of arrogant smirk on his face 

“Don't worry about it, I am a messenger aren't I?” 

[forgeofthenine]

Not a request this time, just a little fic based off the song 'Mrs Hollywood' by Go-Jo. Reader is Tav and they/them pronouns are used throughout.

Hopefully you guys enjoy, next one up will be a set of headcanons :)

The three times you leave Dammon, and the one time you stay

the first time

The excitement reaches its peak around the forge, tieflings bustling to and fro as they prepare. Dammon pauses at his forge, wiping the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand before turning towards the familiar crunch of gravel.

"Hey stranger." He jokes, turning towards you. "Or maybe I should call you 'our hero' now." The correction comes as he turns fully, eyes taking in the figure before him.

God he wishes they could stay, that he and his forge could be enough. But they have their destiny ahead of them. Dammon is already sure he'll be but a small part.

"I heard you weren't coming to the party, I wanted to say goodbye to my favourite blacksmith." His chest tightens as you say the words, not wanting to let you leave, but Dammons knows this is how things need to be.

"It's hardly goodbye, you'll see us again soon, won't you?" The question is one neither can really know the answer to, but they smile and nod anyway and that's enough for Dammon.

The second time

They'd been lounging on the hay in his forge, two days of idle chatting as he worked and asking that ox with much to human eyes random questions.

The assault on Ketheric Thorm has kept them all busy, Dammon at his forge, them trying to form a plan. "What if I just have Gale disintegrate him, Dammon?" The question comes from the corner of the room, where they sit by the open arches.

"Can Gale disintegrate him?" Dammon asks, pulling back from his whetstone. "Maybe you should just use this." He gives the sword a little flourish, holding it out to them. Jumping from the mess of a hay bale, they reach for the sword.

"Oh, this is beautiful..." hands delicately take it, admiring it before stowing it away safe in it's sheath. Just as Dammon thinks nothing they do could surprise him, they're already pulling him into a hug.

Arms wrap tight around his chest as they press in close to him. "Thank you Dammon, I feel like my words just aren't enough." They murmur, Dammons own arms looping close around their waist.

"Just come back alive, that's enough, don't keep me here waiting."

The third time

Rolans words pause as the footfalls of boots echo up the stairs to Dammons new forge, and the blacksmiths attention turns towards the potential customer.

Excitement courses through Dammon as he sees them crest the top of the stairs, a bright smile adorning their face as they wave. "Hi Dammon! Oh, is Rolan here too?" They ask, looking between the two tieflings.

"A few things broke at his new tower during your fight, I'm just giving a quote at how much it'll be to fix." Dammon explains, seeing the way Rolan eyes how his tail sways as he focuses attention on them. It's hard to contain himself, but they'll never know or realise, the way his body reacts only obvious to other Tieflings.

"Well, I know you're busy, but I needed someone to look at my sword. It took a bit of a beating while we were, uh, doing an errand for Astarion." The end sounds more like question than fact, but Dammon hardly minds as he carefully takes the sword from their hands.

"No problem, I'll have it done by tomorrow. So long as the absolute don't invade the city by then." He winks at them, smiling as they laugh and turn away.

"I'll be back, then!" They throw up a hand as they start to walk away. "See you later Dammon, bye Rolan. As they leave a steady silence falls over the two men, Rolans eyebrow raising slightly.

"Still waiting in line for them, then, prince charming?"

Dammons only reply is to hang his head in his hands.

The time you stay

Parties rage through the streets, the celebration of the absolutes control finally being destroyed. Fireworks fizz and pop outside, children shout and squeal, men sing merry drinking songs.

It's no surprise Dammon stays inside. He's never been one for parties, that much is obvious. What is less obvious is why someone is knocking on his door so late.

Opening it with a stifled yawn, he soon sees the very object of his affections. Standing up straighter, opening the door wider to let them in, one question runs through his mind. "What could bring you here on a night like this?" He's in near disbelief, almost wondering if he nodded off as is dreaming.

"The parties are great and all but..." they trail off, looking down to their feel as they toe the wooden floor. Glancing up again, they finish their thought. "But they don't include you, Dammon."

He can't help the way he pulls them in by the arm, this time being the one to start the impromptu hug. Tail wrapping loosely around their leg as they sigh against his chest, Dammon feels the way their body sags against him.

"Stay." He tells them, face pressing into their hair, bodies curling around each other. "Stay with me this time, I've been waiting so long." The hands gripping his clothing hold him tighter, their face pulling from his chest to look him in the eye.

"Kiss me Dammon. I won't be leaving again." They barely get to finish their sentence, a hand finding the side of their face as Dammon does the very thing he's dreamt about for so long.

Even the fireworks outside can't compare to the ones when they finally kiss.

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 3 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley both seem startled by the way you feel about each other. And then Bradley makes a bold statement without saying anything.

Warnings: Angst, swears, sex

Length: 3100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

You ran down the stairs, not sure why you had been dumb enough to look for Bradley tonight in the first place. He wasn't for you. And you should know better. But those kisses... it had all been pretty innocent, but you were ready to start unzipping his jeans. 

But he was taken whether he wanted to admit it or not. Phoebe was everywhere. And it looked like she certainly wasn't the only one he was sleeping with, according to his door. He could flirt with you all he wanted, but he didn't get to have you, too. 

You rushed into the living room and Jeff immediately spotted you. "Damn, took you a while to find the kitchen?" he asked jokingly. 

You laughed it off, taking Jeff's hand. His eyes immediately went wide as he cautiously laced his fingers with yours. "Hey, I'm actually feeling really tired, and I think Janessa wants to stay longer. Can you walk me home?"

"Of course," Jeff replied, leading you toward the door. "I'd be happy to." 

He walked you the few blocks to your apartment, even letting you wear his hoodie when you started to shiver. You were embarrassed about kissing Bradley. Just mortified inside. He was not a good idea.

The last thing you thought about before you pulled Jeff in for a goodnight kiss was Bradley's door and all the names. So you kissed Jeff hard and slid your tongue along his lips until he opened his mouth to let you taste him. He tasted like beer, and he was using so much tongue now, you wanted to gag. He caressed your cheek and stabbed your mouth with his tongue before you pulled away. Because that was the worst kiss of your life. 

And the fact that you knew how expertly Bradley could kiss you undoubtedly made Jeff's kiss even worse. 

"You should come to the house again tomorrow night," Jeff whispered with his hand on your hip as you backed slowly up to your front door.

"Uh, maybe," you mumbled. "I'll think about it." You unlocked your door and squeezed yourself inside. "Thanks for walking me home."

------------------------------

Bradley took a minute to turn his phone off before following you down the stairs. He didn't know how to explain to you that he'd rather be with you than Phoebe or anyone else any day of the week. You were different. He liked talking to you. Being around you made him feel good. 

But as soon as he saw you taking Jeff's hand in yours, he felt the urge to punish himself by drinking a bottle of vodka. He watched you leave the house with Jeff, and he turned toward the kitchen.

Bradley made the rounds, chatted with some guys from the frats and flirted with some girls, all while he sipped from a bottle of Smirnoff. Hopefully he would be able to pass out before he called Phoebe back. A small part of him recognized that she was probably at the party somewhere, but he wasn't sure he wanted to see her right now.

As soon as he had polished off a third of the bottle of vodka, he started to pity himself. He knew better than to drink like this. He hadn't done this since July, when he had broken the table and ended up in the emergency room. He hadn't had any hard liquor since Chase got kicked out of the fraternity. Since the other guys started to carry around a grudge against Bradley. 

Then he was distracted from his feelings; Jeff had returned and he looked so smug. Bradley should be the one looking smug right now. He should still have you up in his room, still be kissing you, maybe even be fucking you by now. 

But instead he was listening to Jeff and some of his other fraternity brothers talking about you. "She was feeling tired, so I didn't want to invite myself in, but I just made out with her," Jeff said with the most obnoxious smile. And he made a point to look right at Bradley as he said it. "She's a good kisser," Jeff added, sending a smirk in his direction.

Bradley deserved this. Even though he had kissed you first, you picked Jeff. And Jeff wasn't wrong; you were a fucking great kisser. Kind of timid and shy, but still so hot, so sweet. Like sugar. 

Bradley took a huge sip of vodka, and staggered a bit in Jeff's direction. "She's sweet," Bradley said. "So sweet."

Jeff just looked at him with pity in his eyes. Because suddenly Phoebe was there, draping her arms around Bradley. 

"There you are! I've been calling you all night," she purred. Bradley tried to pull away, but her hands were on his chest and she was kissing his neck. He didn't like it when she touched his scars. "Let's go upstairs. I'm not even wearing underwear. Should still be easy for you even if you're drunk," she whispered, giggling next to his ear. She took his hand and guided it up her short dress.

Bradley wanted to tell her no. He tried so hard, even though he was wasted now. But she backed him into the hallway with her hand rubbing his dick through his pants. He was thinking about you though. You made him hard without touching him. You made him hard when he thought about you and imagined your voice.

"Come on, Bradley. I can see you're fucked up. I'll do all the work," Phoebe promised in a patronizing tone. Bradley didn't want to be alone, so he let her guide him up the stairs. She took his clothes off and got on all fours on his bed. He could see her pussy, and even through his drunkenness, he tried to fight it. But he couldn't. This was too easy. Too familiar. 

He rolled a condom down his length and fucked her until he came, gasping for air as he thought about you.

---------------------------------

Bradley must have passed out on top of his bedding. His head was pounding as he tried to open his eyes. He knew he wasn't alone, but he couldn't remember who was with him. 

Oh, but he'd been kissing Sugar. That was the last thing he could remember. Yes, you must still be here. He would feel better after he heard your voice again.

"I'm going to change into some of your clothes to sleep. It's cold in here." Phoebe. He was with Phoebe. That was Phoebe's voice.

"Fuck," Bradley groaned, standing up. The room was spinning, but he could still see the condom wrapper next to the bed. "No."

"What is wrong with you?" Phoebe asked as she rooted around in his drawers looking for a shirt. "You are acting so weird."

Bradley cleared his throat and looked at her naked backside. "I want you to leave."

She spun around to face him. "Excuse me?"

"Please, Phoebe. I want to be alone."

"What is your problem, Bradley? You know, I could go fuck any of your fraternity brothers, and they would be begging me to stay with them."

"Phoebe," he groaned, rubbing his throbbing head. 

"What's this about? Because you know I don't even care when you decide you feel like sleeping around. That doesn't matter to me. So let's just go to sleep and talk in the morning."

"Just go!" he begged. "Please, Phoebe. I need to be alone."

"Fuck you, Bradley," she said, pulling her tiny dress back on and storming out. Of course Bradley caught sight of his door before she slammed it shut. 

He flopped down onto his bed, cradling his head in his hands. He'd thought about you again. He'd thought about you the entire time he'd been in here with Phoebe. He had tried to convince himself you never left with Jeff. 

Bradley knew this was fucked up. And he would have given anything to have his mom back. He didn't know who else he could even talk to about this shit. Even if he could manage to get you to kiss him again, you weren't just a regular hookup. You were different. And he needed you to want to kiss him again, because you were all he could think about. He really wished Jeff would just fuck off and leave you alone. 

But it was Bradley's fault that you left. For some reason, he always went back to Phoebe. Maybe it was because she didn't care about his face, or because she already knew he was fucked up. But Bradley didn't feel so fucked up when he was with you. Now he was afraid his dependence on Phoebe was going to cost him. He needed you to know that Phoebe wasn't a threat. Nobody was. As he started to pass out again, a plan came together in his mind.

--------------------------------

You were still trying to wash the feeling of Jeff off of your mouth the next morning when you brushed your teeth. Why had you done that? You didn't even want him now. And you'd managed to put your bad kiss with Jeff at the font of your mind in place of your amazing kiss with Bradley. 

When you thought about Bradley's fingers gliding across your skin, you could have moaned. It just felt that good. Then you scowled. You didn't need a boyfriend, but you also didn't need a one and done hookup either. And that was likely all you would get from him. Why was he even flirting with you? He didn't need you for a good time. He'd been leading you on while he had Phoebe and who knows who else calling his phone. 

So you let yourself enjoy a lazy Saturday morning where your mantra was Guys Suck. You worked on some math questions, occasionally singing a little song you made up about how men were scum. Then you made a grilled cheese sandwich and took a long walk, still humming along to your song. 

You felt much better by that evening when Janessa came home to change before going back to Tyson's room for another night. 

"Come back with me," Janessa whined. "We can hang out together at the Beta house tonight. Drink all of their beer instead of our own."

You rolled your eyes but smiled. "You expect me to believe you won't immediately ditch me for Tyson?"

Then she smirked. "Well... I heard you made out with Jeff, so how do I know you won't ditch me for him?"

You gaped at her. "How did you hear about that?"

"Jeff practically made a public service announcement about it last night after he walked you home. He was telling all the guys about it."

Your heart was pounding, and you felt sick. "Was Bradley there? When Jeff said that?"

"Yeah, he was. And he got fucking trashed last night after that."

"He did?" you whispered. You couldn't stand the thought of Bradley knowing you had kissed Jeff after you had kissed him. "Oh."

"Just come with me. We can hang out, and then you can see Jeff."

You chewed on your bottom lip. "I need to take Jeff's hoodie back anyway, but I'm not staying long."

So you ended up at the Beta house, but you went right to the kitchen in search of Bradley. He wasn't there. You doubled back down the hallway and found Janessa again. 

"Have you seen Bradley?" you asked her, running your fingers along Jeff's hoodie in your hands. 

She shook her head. "No, but I did see Phoebe just now. She would probably know where he is. Oh, there she goes."

You turned to look where Janessa was pointing, and you gasped. Phoebe was stunning. Tall and blonde with bright eyes and just the right amount of curves. She was wearing a tiny skirt, and she looked pissed off. You watched her storm up the stairs that led to the bedrooms on the second floor. 

Janessa was distracted by Tyson again, so you crept along the hallway and started up the stairs as well. You lied to yourself, pretending you just intended to leave Jeff's hoodie outside his door. But of course you were now eavesdropping on Bradley and Phoebe. You froze before you reached the top of the stairs, because their conversation was loud. Bradley sounded angry. You'd never heard his voice like this before. You were used to him being soft and raspy, but now he was close to yelling. 

"Phoebe, you can't just keep coming over after I don't answer your calls!"

"Oh please, Bradley. It barely took any coaxing last night after you saw what I was wearing! I figured your phone battery had died or something."

There was a pause before Bradley said, "I was wasted last night. I didn't even remember what we did until I woke up."

"So a normal night for you then?" Phoebe asked with venom, and you really hated her voice. 

"Phoebe, I haven't been drinking as much, and you know it. I've been trying... since July."

"Then why did you get blasted last night?" she asked a little softer this time.

Another pause, and now Bradley's voice was quieter, so you crept up to the top of the steps, closer to his open door. "You want me to be honest with you? I don't think we should spend time together anymore. I don't think we should be calling each other for hookups. It's not a good idea now."

"Fine," she agreed, but she didn't sound like she was fine with it. "But if this is why you painted your door today, then you can just go fuck yourself. I don't care who she is, there's no way she's as good as I am in bed."

You were standing at the top of the stairs as Phoebe slammed his door closed and stormed down the hallway. She barely glanced in your direction as she descended the stairs in a huff. You continued toward Bradley's room, dropping off Jeff's hoodie on the way. 

When you saw Bradley's door, you froze in shock. It had been freshly painted a clean, glossy white. All of the names, including Phoebe's, had been covered up entirely. But your lips curled into a surprised smile as you read what was now written across his door. You recognized Bradley's handwriting from flipping through his notebooks, and he had apparently taken a black sharpie to his pristine door after painting it. 

SUGAR

what's your number?

You were smiling so much, it would have been mortifying if Bradley opened his door and found you there. He had told Phoebe to get out. He had covered up all the names and phone numbers. He had asked you for yours. 

Maybe he was still thinking about kissing you. Maybe he'd let you explain that you were one hundred percent not interested in Jeff.  

You raised your fist and knocked. 

"Phoebe, seriously! I just want to be alone!" he yelled through the door.

You backed away slowly, now unsure of yourself. You chewed on your lip and then spotted the sharpie marker sitting on the floor next to the door. Before you could change your mind, you wrote your phone number just below the note Bradley had left for you. 

This was a game. At least right now it was. He'd put the ball in your court, and now you'd put it back in his. You capped the marker and took it with you. No way you wanted anyone else writing on his door, especially not before Bradley saw it for himself. 

Maybe he would text or call you. You hoped he would. You looked at Jeff's sweatshirt on the floor in front of his door and tried to sneak out of the house before he saw you. 

-------------------------------

Bradley woke up on Sunday morning with a clear head after having had nothing to drink and nobody stay over with him the previous night. He felt amazing. He stretched out in bed, his morning wood tenting the sheet as he closed his eyes and let his hand drift down his body to grasp his cock. 

He thought about you. It was all you. He smiled as he jerked himself off, thinking about your lips on his, remembering how you used his name instead of his nickname. He came all over his own abs, wishing you were with him. He just stayed there, sprawled out for a few minutes before he stood to get cleaned up. 

Bradley had been hoping you'd stop by again last night. He'd been reeling since he learned you kissed Jeff right after you'd been kissing him. But he liked you a lot. And he could tell you liked him even though you thought you'd be better off with Jeff. 

He'd get you straightened out. 

He grabbed a clean towel and headed to the bathroom, but the door was locked. He knocked and heard Tyson and Janessa both respond from inside. 

"Don't make a mess!" Bradley yelled. "I just cleaned in there!"

With a sigh, he turned back toward his room, already thinking he'd probably want to wipe down the surfaces when they were done in the bathroom. 

"Holy shit," he whispered when he saw the outside of his door. You must have been to the house last night. Either that or someone else was playing a prank on him. He grabbed his phone from his deck and saved the phone number as Sugar in his contacts. While he was in there, he deleted all of the names and numbers of the girls who he didn't even know. That left just a handful of people he cared about, but that was fine, because he was already texting you now.

Then he sat on the edge of his bed with his towel and waited, his morning shower completely forgotten. Because you wrote back.

--------------------------

You were eating breakfast when Bradley texted you. 

Sugar, is that really you?

You smiled and squealed as you responded.

Beer Boy, is that really you?

You paced around, waiting for him to write back.

It's me. I wish you hadn't run out on Friday night. Do you like my door?

"Oh my God," you whispered out loud as you wrote back to him.

I do. Are you planning on adding more names?

He wrote back immediately. 

No.

-------------------------

The door!! OMG!!! Thanks for reading, please leave me some love! And thank you to @mak-32 for helping me make this fic a reality. This is for you, Mak!

PART 4

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@xoxabs88xox

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part eight.

-

"How is he?"

"What do you think?"

Lazard gives the SOLDIER First Class an unimpressed look and Genesis sniffs. "Never fear, Director - your Hero will be well fit for duty - after a break," Genesis says.

"Sephiroth never takes breaks," Lazard points out.

That earns him another sniff, one much closer to a scoff this time. "And people wonder why he's so unapproachable," Genesis says, rolling his eyes. "Why he keeps destroying training rooms in regular spars."

"I seem to recall you and Angeal having a hand in that too," Lazard says, amused and unimpressed. "You are all still forbidden from using the training rooms."

"Yes, yes, ours is a tragic tale of woe," Genesis says dismissively. "The point I'm trying to make is that whether Sephiroth takes breaks or not, he still needs them. He might be Elite even among us Firsts - but he's still human. No matter what the professor says."

Lazard folds his arms. "So this was to be expected, is that it?"

"Wasn't it? Have you not seen Sephiroth's schedule? And I don't just mean his mission roster. He's in and out of the labs so often they should install a revolving door, just for him," Genesis scoffs and looks away. "It's a wonder he didn't start losing it before."

Lazard narrows his eyes. "Has he lost it, then, Genesis? Has he been pushed to the brink?"

Genesis is quiet for a moment and then sighs. "No," he says. "Not yet. But something happened that shook him. Apparently his heart stopped, he was given too big a dose - but I don't think that's it. Not all of it."

"It sounds plenty shocking to me."

"SOLDIERs flatline all the time. That's what Phoenix Downs are for," Genesis waves a hand at that. "Sephiroth must've gone through it a thousand times. But maybe, in combination with the higher dose he got, and however long he was dead…"

Lazard hums. "Memory issues?"

"Most definitely," Genesis agrees, and gives him a sideways look. "He'll be able to cover it up - given time. But he must've forgotten more than he was letting on. I don't know how much - but it was a lot."

Lazard hums in grim understanding, and they're quiet for a moment in shared acceptance. Memory loss in a SOLDIER is common enough and usually isn't reason alone to pull them from the field - higher ups really didn't care. But it tends to have other detrimental effects…

Like an increased mortality rate.

SOLDIERs were sent out only on toughest of missions, taking on most dangerous assignments the company had to offer. Everything Turks or Infantry couldn't handle, the SOLDIER took care of. And going on a high-risk mission with any level of loss of mental faculties… 

If Sephiroth was operating with something worse than your usual case of a few burned synapses…

"He needs to be evaluated," Lazard says finally. "Sephiroth has numerous missions coming up in Wutai - if his abilities are compromised -"

"You'll send someone else?" Genesis asks and scoffs. "That I would like to see! How will that look in the newspapers, when the poster boy is replaced? The horror, the controversy - the conspiracy!"

Lazard casts him a look. "Or maybe I will have to shuffle the roster to send someone with him," he says pointedly.

"To babysit Sephiroth?"

"Better than to risk everything due to lack of foresight," Lazard muses and leans back in his chair. "Angeal will be back tomorrow - I want you to debrief him on the situation - quietly - and then the two of you can assess Sephiroth's condition."

"Out of the company's view, I assume?" Genesis asks while whipping out his PHS to check the calendar.

"It wouldn't do for rumours to spread," Lazard agrees and looks away. "Thankfully the Third who saw him already promised to be discreet."

Genesis hums dubiously. "We'll see how long that will last," he mutters, scrolling through his schedule. In his experience, SOLDIERs gossip worse than the secretary staff. 

"I'll take even a day's delay. With the true extent of his stay in Injections suppressed and with you handling the rest, hopefully the gossip won't find enough ground to spread," Lazard says.

Genesis hums and then frowns at a new message notification. "Ah," he says, reading the title.

"Hm?" Lazard asks 

"Well. Speaking of gossip," Genesis says, his brows arching. "Someone is getting fired at Laybell's."

Lazard frowns and gives him a confused look. "Laybell's? You mean the clothing store?"

Genesis opens the mail that had just been sent out to Silver Elite and reads it through.

SEPHIROTH JUST ORDERED A WHOLE BUNCH OF SHIRTS FROM LAYBELL'S?!? by Beybelina

Hi, hello, hey, I'm a bit of a lurker, usually I don't have anything to say, but something INCREDIBLE just happened! 

I work at the Laybell's in Sector Seven and I was just processing orders when it popped up! At first I couldn't believe my eyes! The name on the order, it couldn't be! It was SEPHIROTH! I thought it was fake, so I checked - and the mailing address is Shinra HQ!

Aaaah, my heart is pounding like mad! Sephiroth, making orders from our store! This is the happiest day of my life!

There's almost instantly a reply.

Re: SHIRTS FROM LAYBELL'S by Silver Tail

OH MY GODDESS! What did he order? What kind of shirts? What colour? Tell us everything!

And then an answer to that, just as quickly…

Re:re: SHIRTS FROM LAYBELL'S by Beybelina 

I have the full list, though I probably shouldn't mail it because of customer confidentiality! But let's just say it  looks like he's moving in from the Glorious Coat of Greatness and Goodness and we'll all be worse for it! He will look amazing of course, but it's still a tragedy! 

Genesis brows arch slightly in incredulity. What customer confidentiality? "Apparently Sephiroth has been shopping for clothes."

Lazard looks up, and Genesis shows him the message. "Hm. I agree, someone is certainly getting fired," he says dubiously. "But is it really that unusual? Everyone uses mail to shop these days."

Genesis gives him a look. "You have no idea what the state of his wardrobe is, do you?"

"I make it a point not to pry into the personal affairs of SOLDIER members," Lazard admits.

"And we're oh so grateful - but I do, and it's something else," Genesis says flatly. He'd gotten his own leather coat because he'd gotten inspired by Sephiroth's style - only to soon realise where it actually came from.

He's never known anyone too damn haughty to get a new shirt, before Sephiroth. It would be amusing if it wasn't so irritating. Of course, there's also the fact that whenever they do as much as charge their hairstyle it's newsworthy. Sephiroth is especially sensitive to it, having been in the spotlight all his life. But mostly it was just the man being contrary on purpose, because someone said something, and sometimes Sephiroth just decides to dig his heels in about the weirdest things for no good reason. Like with the hair, oh, Goddess, the hair.

So the idea that Sephiroth is suddenly becoming fashion-conscious…? Highly unlikely. 

Genesis scowls, snapping his phone shut.

Lazard is right - Sephiroth really needs to be assessed, thoroughly. Because either the man has utterly lost his mind… or he's up to something.

-

Cut to SY, sobbing screaming throwing up over a pile of torn shirts.

[uwukillmenowowo]

Part 2 of thr class 1a vs class 1b please!

I've had this in the very back of my inbox so WAUDBAKJWDBLAKWJBD

Hopefully I can get the requests done because DAMN- LOSING MY PREVIOUS DRAFTS WAS HEARTBREAKING-

.......... Gonna be honest- I had no clue what I was writing here.

COMPETITION Pt. 2

(Yandere BNHA X F!Reader!)

Chapter 1

Notes:

Reader/ [Y/n] will be female for the sake of ✨Cliche writing~!✨

[Y/n]'s quirk allows her to manipulate water Juvia Lockser style [I chose water because it goes well with a lot of the class's quirks]

[Y/n]'s personality is the classic "Naive, innocent, strawberry milk sweetheart"

I may have left out something but I forgot what it was... :(

I hope it's still good tho :)

Lately all your friends have been acting weird. They want to do stuff like hanging out with you more, have a spar, have a snack, study, stuff like that. At first you found it cute and spent time with whoever asked first... but now... things have become... rough.

{Your POV}

~~~~~

I hummed to myself as I continued to prepare dinner for me and my friends. Thankfully it was a Friday so we didn't have school tomorrow. "What'cha makin' there?" Tetsutetsu asked, standing beside me. "Oh- I thought I'd just make some chicken katsudon with curry." Tetsutetsu told me that it sounded good and asked if we could watch a movie too.

I agreed and told them that they could choose the movie and I heard them cheer. they also said that they were going to move some pillows to make a fort of blankets and pillows. 'How sweet.' I thought as my mind thought of me and my friends watching a movie with us all cuddled against each other for warmth.

{Third POV}

~~~~~

Meanwhile- in the ally where the others were, they were stuck in a stalemate. They kept moving around on the rooftops and allyways to not be seen by other civilians. But in return, they ended up in the ally right beside your house.

They couldn't really- fight because they know how much of a cautious/paranoid person you were. You would check outside just to check if it's a problem or if its a stray. how do they know this? Well duh- You're their obsession, of course they know everything about you.

"Truce..?" Monoma asked bitterly as he gazed towards your apartment and then to the others in 1-A.

Said students, (especially Bakugo) didn't like the idea. But considering that they were by your place. they agreed.

"Uraraka." Izuku whispered to the gravity user. She nodded before using her quirk to float her, Izuku, and Iida towards your door. Of course- the other 1-B students were a bit pissed but at the same time, what were they gonna do? If anything they knew that they might make fools of themselves.

'The girl is too energetic. The broccoli stammers too much and glasses is too strict. There's no way she'd prefer them over our class' Monoma thought and smirked. "Let's take out spots." Monoma told the others and started to go on his way to their "stalking spot"

{Your POV}

~~~~~

I chocked on my food as another jumpscare popped up. "why did you guys choose this movie!" I cried as I snuggled up against Shiozaki for comfort. She carefully wrapped an arm around my shoulder and nuzzled her cheek against mine. telling me that it'll be fine.

*Ding Dong*

"I'll get it." Kuroiro said and got up. the movie continued playing so I didn't see who was at the door. Until I heard the familiar sound of Iida loudly asking where I was and if it was even okay for the students from A-B to be here. I told Shiozaki that I'd be back in a bit and got up.

"Kuroiro?" I asked and stood by his side. There I saw three of my friends from 1-A. "Oh! Guys! What are you three doing here so late?" Izuku looked around nervously, Iida started speaking really fast so I didn't know what he was saying, and Uraraka just kept giving me a look of admiration.

"Well. how about you three come in. The others and I are just watching a movie." I pulled Kuroiro to the side to let in my friends.

It doesn't hurt right? The more the merrier!

Right?

Pt 3 or 4 might be the final one gang-

My brain just holds white noise and cobwebs

Like- My train of though we *Fwoop* and *Poof*

[aestrayla]

study session ft. gojo satoru

summary: you take satoru to the library to study for upcoming exams, what antics will he come up with while you’ve fallen asleep? ft. gojo satoru x f!reader

cw: SPOILERS (kind of lol), fluff, my humour, pet names (sweetheart)

word count: 0.4k

a/n: i'm currently DEFINITELY shadowbanned so hopefully this gets out to some if not anyone 😭 anyways, this is me writing about studying because instead of this i should be studying for my exams LOL

a kick to your foot had you jolted awake from your little nap, headphones halfway through playing [your fav song] and a pen stuffed between your fingers.

putting the pen back to paper, a second kick had you pulling your headphones off, brows starting to furrow.

the third, and final kick, had you shooting up from your seat, peering over the desk wall at the white haired man in front of you. the screech from your chair causing some to look your way.

“can you stop that?” you hissed, loud enough for only him to hear.

“stop what?” he replied, a dopey grin plastered to his face, clearly amused at your looming form above him.

“i was trying to study!”

“yeah right, i could hear you snoring from a mile away,” he snickered.

“fuck you, satoru,” you seethed under your breath.

“sorry sweetheart, but you weren’t responding to my texts,” he waved around his phone, the screen open to your text messages.

you peered back down to your phone and saw a flood of message notifications, all from one person.

2:26pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: yo can u help me w this question??

2:27pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: hello???

2:28pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: oh so its like that??

2:30pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: is that u snoring?? can u stop pls ppl are staring 🙄

2:31pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: attachment: 1 image

2:31pm: samsung galaxy z flip 3: LMAOO watch this be my new lockscreen 😂😂

you look back at him, obviously annoyed and he just shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“so you gonna help me, or what?”

making your way around the rows of tables, you finally stop at satoru’s.

“so what’s the problem?” you lean over his desk, scanning through the mess of papers.

“the problem is,” he suddenly grabs you by your wrist and pulls you into his lap. you yelp in surprise, startled by his sudden moves, “i’m kinda hungry, can we go for crepes?”

you push at the desk to swerve around to face him, “crepes? seriously? i thought you said you were going to study seriously for me today!”

he pulls you closer by your waist, “please, we’ve been here for hours already. you know i need my daily sugar fix,” he pouted.

you narrow your eyes at him, eyeing his features. from his bright blue eyes to his criminally glossy lips.

“i promise i’ll study twice as hard tomorrow so, please?”

you sigh, “fine, i give up.”

a/n: who wants a part two where the problem is actually his throbbing d**k??! LOLL

©2023 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

[sykesandskittles]

CHAPTER 4

Harlow

Sorry. Going to sleep. Talk tomorrow.

I blink down at the text. It’s weirdly abrupt for her, but it’s late, and honestly, I’m just relieved she’s alive and back in her room. I haven’t texted her about what happened earlier, because, frankly, I’m not in the best mental space to type it all out. I’ll tell her in person tomorrow when I see her.

As soon as I got back to my room, though, I did have a text from Noah.

Are you ok?

I just ignored it and then blocked his number immediately. It just goes to show how right my first instincts about him were—he’s fucking trouble, and I don’t want anything to do with his twisted world.

I want to stay as far away from Noah Sabastian as humanly possible.

The next morning, on my way to class, I stop by Talia 's door. It’s locked, and my gentle knocks go unanswered, so I assume she’s just sleeping. She was out late, and she’s never been a morning person, so I decide to try back after lunch.

Class is a complete bore, and I’m barely paying attention—thinking about everything that happened last night. What I did wrong, what I could have done differently…

But, honestly, none of what happened was my fault, and people like Tyler shouldn’t be allowed to walk freely on campus—which is why, after class is over, I walk right over to the campus security office.

When I walk in, I address the first security person I see--a woman, around forty, sitting behind a desk, wearing a black security uniform. “Good morning. How can I help you?”

“I was assaulted last night,” I say abruptly. I’m not sugarcoating anything. That fucker needs to pay for what he did. The only thing I deliberately leave out is any mention of Noah. God only knows why, but he was just defending me, and I don’t want to get him in trouble for that.

The woman’s gaze falls to the bruises on my arm, and her expression turns immediately to concern. She pulls me into a room, and gets my full account of what happened last night, then calls the police.

While we’re waiting for them to arrive, she shakes her head. “Must have been a full moon last night or something.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Security found a sophomore last night, nearly beaten to death on the edge of campus. Took him to the hospital, and it looks like he’ll pull through, but–” she slows out a breath “–he’s going to have a long road ahead.” Her gaze shifts to me. “You don’t know anything about that, do you?”

I shake my head, taken aback by her question. Damn. I knew Noah had kicked the guy’s ass, but I had no idea how badly. Though, truthfully, I don’t even know if it’s the same guy we’re talking about here. “I—I don’t know. I can’t even tell you who attacked me–only that his first name is Tyler.”

She nods, and pushes off the desk, then scribbles the description down on a piece of paper.

When the police come, I file a full report, and they take photos of my injuries, then vow to look into it. They were pretty horrified, as was campus security, so I have confidence they’ll do their best to investigate the incident.

“In the meantime, don’t walk anywhere by yourself at night,” the police officer says. “And we’ll be in touch when we know more.”

I nod. “Okay, thank you.”

As I walk out of the campus security office, I feel a weight being lifted. It felt good to get all of that off my chest, and know I did my part, so hopefully Tyler can’t do something like that again to anyone else.

I missed my second class, so I head straight to my third. It’s still early— I have about fifteen minutes until I can sneak in and grab my usual seat at the back of the classroom, so I just wait outside in the hallway. I’m staring down at my phone to check if Talia texted me this morning when I hear a familiar baritone.

“Hello, Little Rabbit.”

My head snaps up to see Noah walking toward me.

Fuck.

I push out a breath. “I’m not interested. Especially after what happened last night. You can just stay the fuck away from me.”

He holds up my stun gun and hands it to me. “You forgot this.” I glare at him. “Do you hear me at all when I speak?”

He leans against the wall, all casual self-assurance. I saw this guy nearly beat someone to death last night, and now, here he is, standing in front of me like nothing happened. Though I notice his knuckles are raw and red, so I guess he’s human after all.

“I thought I made myself clear last night,” he says. “—I chose you. You’re mine. That’s it. There’s nothing either of us can do about that now.”

I hold my binder against my chest protectively. It’s a flimsy barrier, but it’s something. “So un-choose me, then. There were plenty of girls begging to be chosen last night. Pick one of them.”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t work that way, Little Rabbit.”

I pull a face, like what the fuck? “I thought you were, like…the most powerful guy on campus or something? Just tell everyone you saw me in the light of day and changed your mind.”

He laughs under his breath, just a puff of air, and his gaze flicks over me. His eyes linger on my face for a fraction too long. “They’d never believe that. ”

I pause. Was that a compliment? My cheeks flush under his scrutiny, but I force my features to remain neutral–as much as possible.

“Besides, there’s something you need to learn about ExU,” he says. “Here, we thrive on duty and tradition. You were–”

“I know, I know,” I interrupt. He’s like a broken record. “Chosen. Jesus. That fucking ceremony should come with a consent waiver. I had no idea what I was signing up for when I showed up at that house last night.”

He just shrugs, and I can practically hear his thoughts, sounds like a you problem.

“I went to security this morning,” I say, changing the subject. “and they said some guy was found beaten on the edge of campus. He’s int he hospital. Was that Tyler?”

He shrugs again. “Could be anyone. But, wherever that cunt Tyler is, he won’t be returning to ExU. The paperwork to have him expelled is being approved as we speak.”

My eyes go wide. Does he have that much power? He can just get someone kicked out of school without an investigation or anything? Damn. That’s brutal. Tyler deserves it, but still…

He must read the direction of my thoughts because he adds, “He knew better than to fuck with what's mine.”

I decide to ignore the “what’s mine” comment, because I know I’m not shifting his view on that—not immediately, anyway. “Well, I wish I’d known ExU is such a dangerous place. I would have picked another University.”

“It’s not dangerous if you play by the rules, Little Rabbit,” he says, pushing off the wall. “Keep your phone close. I’ll text you later.”

As he turns to walk away, I call after him, “Please don’t…text…me…” But he just continues to walk, like he’s not listening.

Goddamn.

Somehow I’ve gotten myself entangled with Noah Sabastian

. It’s a fucking entanglement

——

THE REST of the day passes in a blur, and still no text from Talia . It’s mid- day by the time I catch up with her. I’m just heading back to my room when I stop by and knock on her door. She answers, and the second I see her, I breathe a sigh of relief.

“Goddamn, girl. You had me so stressed,” I say, pushing my way into her room. Her roommate is gone, thank goodness, so we have the small space to ourselves. I let my backpack fall to the floor, and I plop down on her bed. “Where the hell have you been?”

Talia shuts the door and comes to sit on the bed next to me. I immediately notice she’s not her usual bubbly self. “I was out late, and I decided to sleep in.”

I lean against her pillows. “Well, now that I know you’re okay, I’m pissed at you for ghosting me last night. I was waiting for you on the porch of that house when I was attacked by some asshole.”

“Attacked? ”

“Yeah, if Noah hadn’t jumped in, I don’t know…”

Tears well up in Talia 's eyes. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Harlow . I would have been there, really, but I was…kinda caught up in my own thing. Are you okay?”

Her tone is…off. I’ve known Talia long enough to know when something is wrong, and my gut is telling me something is very, very wrong. When she said “my own thing” her voice caught on the words, like she was trying not to cry. I sit up, now on full alert. “What happened last night?”

She just shakes her head and looks down at her hands. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m just glad we’re both okay.”

I grab her wrist and inspect her for any bruises. There’s nothing. “What happened, Talia ? You can tell me.”

When she looks up at me, she smiles, pulling her wrist out of my grip. The smile is forced, and I can tell she’s trying to put on a brave face. “Nothing really happened. I’m just being stupid. Forget about it. I guess no more creepy secret society ceremonies for us, right?” She laughs a little.

I lean back against the pillows. “I hope not, but I don’t know. That Noah guy insists I belong to him now, so who knows what he’s going to make me do.”

Talia nods, but I can tell she isn’t really paying attention. She looks tired. Maybe that’s why she’s acting so unlike herself.

I stand up. “Why don’t you get some more sleep?”

She shimmies up into the spot on her bed that I just vacated. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’ll text you in a bit. Be sure to answer.” She closes her eyes. “Mmm-hm.”

Grabbing my bag, I duck out of the room, unsettled by that entire interaction. Talia is usually an open book. A very bubbly open book, and it’s not like her to be so secretive. It’s weird. And I decide I’m going to get to the bottom of whatever happened last night. But first, she needs sleep. It might help her feel like herself again.

I immediately dart over to my English class. English has never been my strongest subject, but it’s one of those annoying required classes. When I’d enrolled, I’d decided to get all those pesky classes out of the way first, so I wouldn’t have to worry about them later.

This class is packed, but I manage to find a seat way up in the nosebleed section, which, unfortunately, means I need to snake past about a dozen

people.

We’re about halfway through class when the girl next to me leans over, and whispers to me. “Hey, you’re the one dating Noah Sabastian , right?”

I glance over, and I’m actually taken aback by her beauty. Long blond wavy hair, wide blue eyes, and a pair of outy pink lips that make her look younger than I’m sure she is. But the worst part, she’s beautiful without even trying. Minimal makeup, shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops. And she smells like the beach somehow.

“Um, I…” I’m technically dating Noah, according to him, I guess. But I don’t exactly want that information spreading–even though it sounds like it already has.

I don’t know what to say, so I just side-step the question altogether. “I’m Harlow .”

“Yeah, I know. You’re fucking royalty around here.” She smacks her gum and smiles. “I’m Skye.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say with an answering smile.

Royalty? How? I’ve been on campus for less than a week. Weird.

She leans in, and whispers, “Hey, do you think you could take notes for me? I gotta run.”

“Uh, sure.” I’m taking notes anyway, so why not ?

“Cool, thanks. Give me your phone and I’ll add my contact info.” I hand her my phone, and she types in her information quickly.

“Thanks, I just sent a text to my number, so I have your info. I’ll text you later.” She hands my phone back while she moves to get up, then seems to remember something and turns back to me. “Hey, our sorority is having a party tonight. You wanna come?”

Oh, God. Another party.

But it might be good for Talia to get out for a minute. Maybe it’ll cheer her up, and we’ll make sure to stay together this time.

“Okay. Thanks. Can I bring a friend?”

Skye’s face brightens. “Yeah, sure. I’ll text you the info.” “Great.”

And with that she’s gone, sneaking through the back door of the classroom.

Well. That was…nice. I guess I have a new friend now, which makes me smile to myself. I was a little worried I wouldn’t fit in at ExU. I have

fantasies about blending into the woodwork here, but Talia was right last night. I can’t spend my entire college experience in my dorm room.

After class, I head over to the coffee shop. I’m starving, but I have to make my scholarship money stretch, so cafe food isn’t an option. But, at this point, coffee is essential to life, so I decide to splurge on a small cup of plain drip coffee.

I’m in line when I feel a presence beside me. I glance over and see Noah standing next to me, a cheeky smile on his beautiful face.

“My God. What are you doing here?” I’m sure I have disgust written all over my face, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

He snakes an arm around my waist and tugs me close to him. Then he buries his face in my hair, and talks in a low tone. “Play along.” Pulling back, he smiles down at me. “My next class isn’t for an hour. I thought we could have coffee together.”

I just push out a breath and try to calm my racing heart. I hate my reaction to him. I can’t help feeling like every other girl at ExU, fawning over the campus god. It’s so unbelievably pathetic. But tell that to my two beaded nipples, poised and ready to cut fucking glass.

When we get up to the register, I order my drink, and then he proceeds to order practically every food item on the menu. I reach into my pocket to pay for my drink, but Noah waves me off, handing the cashier his debit card.

Turns out it’s peak coffee o’clock, so all the tables are taken. Noah isn’t deterred in the least. He walks toward one of the tables, and before he can even say anything, the three people sitting there immediately get up and offer it to us—even wiping it down with a napkin first.

What the fuck?

I take the chair closest to the wall. Having the wall behind me makes me feel less vulnerable, somehow. Noah sits in the chair across from me, leaning back comfortably, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“I’m beginning to think I’ve stepped into an alternate universe,” I say with a sigh.

“Where’s your necklace?” Noah asks, ignoring my statement.

My hand flies to my throat, to the necklace that isn’t there. After putting in my purse last night, I hadn’t touched it. “It’s up in my room,” I answer .

He doesn’t look pleased by my answer–his dark brows drawn together in annoyance—but thankfully, he doesn’t push the issue. Maybe he knows

I’ll argue, and he doesn’t want me making a scene in front of everyone. Appearances seem to be everything here in this alternate universe.

Someone comes over with our coffee and a tray full of food—fruit, pastries, croissants, muffins, and slices of lemon poppyseed coffee cake. I eye a couple of the pastries, and my stomach growls, but I deliberately don’t reach for anything.

Noah watches me. “Eat something.”

I take a sip of my coffee, my eyes never leaving his. “No, thanks. I’m good.”

He sits back deeper in his chair, his jaw working. He doesn’t like hearing the word no and I file that away in my brain. If Noah thinks I’m going to be one of those girls at the Prefrence Ceremony, throwing myself at him, then he's fucked in the head. I don’t roll like that, and it’s probably better for both of us in the long run if he figures that out now.

“Harlow ,” he says slowly. I can hear the frustration in his tone. “You need to eat.”

I lift my chin. “What if I’m not hungry?”

There’s something about accepting food from this guy that feels, I don’t know…intimate, I guess. I’m not sure why I feel that way. Maybe it’s a remnant from my childhood. We never had much food in the house. Before my mom ditched me for a cult in Florida, she raised me as a single parent, and there were times when the gulf between paychecks was so wide that we had to depend on food banks.

So, yeah, seeing all this food on the table just feels indulgent. I’m dying to sink my teeth into the chocolate croissant in front of me, but my pride won’t allow me to reach out and take it. So instead, I just take another sip of my coffee.

“I know you’re hungry,” he replies with a bored tone. “I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

I swallow back the embarrassment that suddenly rises in my throat. Damn. He can hear my stomach growling? Could he be lying? Part of me wonders if he’s just telling me that to unsettle me, and throw me off balance.

I hate to admit it, but it’s working. I’m suddenly super self-conscious, and I can’t help it, my hand settles on my stomach.

“I didn’t have breakfast,” I offer in response.

He leans forward and pushes the chocolate croissant closer to me. With a sigh, I pick it up and take a bite. The chocolate melts on my tongue and combined with the buttery goodness of the flaky croissant, I almost moan. Almost. I manage to bite it back.

“Good, now we can talk,” he says, seemingly satisfied. I hate that I gave in to anything he demanded, but whatever. It’s the last time, so he should enjoy it while he can.

He pauses, just sitting there, watching me eat. He doesn’t eat anything himself, which is a little strange, considering he ordered all this food. But I don’t mention it, because, honestly, I don’t care enough about what he does or doesn’t do to bring it up.

“Well, whatever it is, get on with it, because I have a class in–” I glance at my phone “–twenty minutes.”

Annoyance crosses over his face. I guess he doesn’t like being rushed, either. This guy is a real piece of work.

“I want you to come over to my place tonight. Meet the guys.”

“Yeah, no. I can’t.” I finish the croissant and brush my hands together, dusting off the crumbs. “I have a thing tonight.”

He pulls a face like he can’t believe I actually have a life outside of classes. “What thing?”

I take a sip of my coffee. “Don’t worry about it.” “Harlow …” He says my name like a warning.

I push out a frustrated breath. “It’s not really your business, is it?”

He leans forward, his forearms resting on the round table. “See, that’s the thing, you are my business, Little Rabbit. In fact, everything you do is my business.”

I don’t know this guy at all, but I can tell I’ve already managed to piss him off. It’s probably not hard to do, to be fair. He seems like the kind of person who's always on edge.

I scrunch my nose and answer his question, but only because I don’t want to argue in front of all these people–especially since they’re all still watching us as they sip their coffees.

“I was invited to a party,” I say. He raises a dark brow. “Where?”

“I don’t know. Some girl from my English class invited me. Her sorority is throwing a thing tonight, I guess.”

I hope that by mentioning the sorority, he chills out. It’s a girl thing, so he shouldn’t be worried about other guys being there—not that it’s his call to make. He and I aren’t actually dating. I don’t even know him, for God’s sake. All I know is that his name is Noah Sabastian , he’s royalty on campus, and he’s a controlling douche. Not exactly fuck-me-please material.

He does have one redeeming quality, though. He’s beautiful. Like, cover-of-a-magazine beautiful. Even as he sits across from me, his messy dark hair falls over his forehead just so, making him look disheveled, but in a I-don’t-give-a-fuck kind of way. It’s entrancing.

But I know how fucked up handsome guys can be on the inside, where the shadows lurk, and honestly, I don’t want anything to do with it. I’ve been burned once, and I’m done with sexy-as-fuck guys. No, thanks. Give me a straight-up nerd any day of the week.

“Great,” he says, satisfied. “What time?”

I pause. He doesn’t think he’s going with me, does he? “I’m going with my friend Talia .” I mean, hopefully. She hasn’t agreed to go with me yet. But I’m sure I can convince her. She’s always down for a party.

He laughs a little as if to say, how cute. “Nice try. But you’re not going anywhere without me, Little Rabbit. I don't want to keep having to remind you—you’re mine now.”

It’s not the actual words that get me, it’s the look in his eyes. He means every fucking syllable. Before, I assumed this was all just for show. Like, it was just some elaborate way for him to save face in front of everyone. But that dark look in his eyes is clear.

Noah Sabastian thinks he owns me.

[catboyfelixer]

I Hope You’ll Always Be My Guardian Angel | Lee Felix

Pairing: Felix x GN!Reader Summary: Felix is a guardian angel-in-training, and you’re his last assignment before he can graduate. Genre: Fluff, Humor Notes: Jeongin also makes an appearance in this <3

All Felix could hear was pencils on paper scribbling away, students flipping to the back of the test that he had finished half an hour ago. This was not his first rodeo. This wasn’t even his second rodeo. But every time he failed his in-person assessment, he had to come back and do the written test all over again.

All he wanted to do escape the white walls, floors, uniforms, furniture, everything, and get back to Earth. The only other color in the room were the black numbers on the white clock, ticking agonizingly slow. Normally he would drift off into daydreams about his next assignment on Earth to pass the time. But lately those daydreams would turn into embarrassing memories of failing his exams on Earth and dread about failing them all over again.

At least he wasn’t alone. Most of his classmates had passed on their first try, but Jeongin being here too made him feel a bit better. He was asleep on the desk next to Felix’s, drooling a bit on the test. He always looks peaceful, even smiling in his sleep. Felix wishes he could be this laid-back about failing as many times as they have. Whenever Felix has doubts about ever graduating, Jeongin throws an arm around him and tells him they’ll make it eventually, even if it takes a hundred years. Hopefully they’ll both pass this time, and join their friends as full-fledged guardian angels.

The instructor rings the chimes, playing a melodic tune to signal the end of the exam. Felix shakes Jeongin awake, and they get ready to find out who they’ll be assigned to for the next two weeks.

You slammed the door to your apartment as you walked in, and dropped your bag on the ground. The loud thud didn't startle you, and you didn't care about all your textbooks splaying out. Who cares about the tripping hazard.

Yeah, it was one of those days.

First, you spilled coffee on your new shirt. You were too far from home to change and you were running late for class anyway.

Second, none of your group had anything prepared for their parts in the group project. Nothing! They had two weeks to do literally anything. You'll have to bring this up to the professor before the presentation tomorrow.

Third, your laptop just completely died during your last class of the day. All the notes you took- gone.

Fourth, you banged your elbow on the door frame on the way out of class. Maybe you would've been calm if it was only three things. But come on.

You're lucky nothing happened on the way home, who knows if you would've lost your mind.

You hear a knock at the door. After a brief pause, there are two more louder knocks.

Fifth, someone's at your door. On your bad day.

You mentally compose yourself, taking a deep breath before walking to the door.

When you open it, you're blinded by bright lights enveloping a figure in the hallway. You cover your eyes and hear a voice.

"Oh, sorry. Let me turn that down." The figure reaches up and turns down the light coming from the halo on his head.

...

...Halo?

You look back, and see a man dressed in all white from head to toe. He has shoulder length blonde hair, what seems to be a halo floating on top of his head, and a pair of translucent wings behind him.

"Um... Be not afraid?" he says, tilting his head as if he's the one confused here.

You just stare at him blankly. Why is there a man dressed like an angel at your door.

He sticks out his hand, hoping for a handshake. When you just continue staring at him in bewilderment, he clears his throat and tries again.

"Hello, my name is Felix and I'll be your guardian angel for the next two weeks." The way he says it is stilted, as if he's practiced saying this beforehand.

"What?" is all you manage to say at first. This is so completely bizarre.

"I've never been good at this part. Can I come in? It'll be easier to explain if I can sit down and read my cue cards," he explains, already walking past you and into the living room behind you. He trips on the bag you left on the floor and stumbles into a side table, knocking over a potted plant.

Sixth.

He stands up, wipes the dirt off his pants, and continues walking like nothing happened. He sits down on the old black leather couch your parents gave you and some cue cards appear in his hands out of thin air.

He flips through them, nodding at each card before they magically disappear when he's finished reading them. Looking up at you, he smiles and pats the couch next to him, which you ignore.

"Like I said, my name is Felix and I'm in training to be a guardian angel. You're my assignment for my exam. Nice to meet you!" He puts out his hand for you to shake again, and this time you hesitantly take up the offer.

"Ok, let me get this straight. Guardian angels exist. Ok. I guess this might as well happen," you start, finally taking a seat across from him, "But why only two weeks? Do I just... not get a guardian angel after that?"

"Don't worry, you didn't have one before this and you were just fine, right?"

Considering the day you just had, that's debatable.

"Why does an angel need to take an exam? Aren't you, like, just born knowing how to angel?"

"No, that's silly. And also, I wasn't born," he says, not elaborating on why that's silly or how angels are made.

"I wasn't born either," you lie. You shouldn't be the only one caught off guard today.

"Oh, that's interesting," he responds. He pulls out a notepad and a pencil and writes that down. Did he... believe you?

Somehow you find that endearing. Just a little bit.

"Oh yeah, I have more cue cards to get through."

He follows behind you on your walk to the grocery store like a puppy. Every so often he yells out "BE CAREFUL!" just before you step on a rock.

"WATCH OUT!"

He pulls you towards him, wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his chin in the crook of your neck. He's unexpectedly warm, warmer than any person you've been in an embrace with. Are angels known to be warm? You'll have to look that up later. You subconsciously lean into him, and against your own will, you notice your heart beating harder in your chest.

You look around, expecting a bike to be barreling towards you or something, but he points to the ground where a squirrel runs by your feet. When it's gone, he lets you go, and the warmth retreats too. You turn around to question him, but he starts talking first.

"Phew, that could've been dangerous, good thing I was here," he says. He wipes some non-existent sweat off his forehead and gives you a thumbs up.

"There's no way that would've been dangerous," you start, but he's too busy mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done. He doesn't hear you at all.

You sigh, and you guess this is what your life will be like for the next two weeks.

When you get to the store, no one seems to notice the wings or the halo. But what they do notice is the kindhearted guy helping the little old lady get some organic cereal off the top shelf, and the pretty boy making funny faces at a crying baby to calm her down. You definitely notice the cute way he furrows his brow while reading the shopping list, making sure you didn't forget anything. And how he offers to carry the heavy bags for you when you finish paying. He's lifting an entire bag of flour under one arm, and two more reusable shopping bags with his other hand. He's kind of... nice to have around, you think.

You don't think about his pretty face or his toned arms carrying your groceries, not at all.

The two of you walk home, side-by-side. Your thoughts wander to what happens after. Will he go inside the apartment again? Where is he living while on Earth. He's not expecting to stay the night, is he? You just met him. Then again, he is your guardian angel. If anything, it's probably better to have him close by. Just in case. You turn to ask him where he's staying, but he suddenly stops in his tracks and stares past you, further down the street. He squints to see something, and then a big goofy smile spreads across his face.

You look, and there's two men in the distance. One is just a regular dude eating a hotdog. The other guy... is another angel. He's wearing the same all white outfit as Felix, and there's a halo floating above him emitting a soft light.

"Jeongin!" he calls out, and when the angel turns, his translucent wings catch the light of his halo and become barely visible.

'Jeongin' smiles brightly and waves in your direction. Felix drops your groceries and jogs to catch up with his friend. They do a complicated handshake and start talking, which would be cool if you weren't left with all the heavy bags on the ground.

Above you, you hear a man shout 'Mamma mia!' and when you look up, a giant black blur falls out of a balcony.

A crash roars through the street, followed by a perfect C major chord, and when Felix turns around there's a broken grand piano where you once stood.

"Ah.... shoot."

The last thing Felix sees before being teleported away is the man next to Jeongin falling over after choking on his hot dog.

A moment later, and Felix is back in a very familiar room. White walls, white carpet, a white couch and a white coffee table greet him once again. He takes a seat, and Jeongin appears in the room too.

"I lasted longer this time!" Jeongin exclaims, punching his fist in the air as a show of victory.

"By literally half a second."

"Still counts," Jeongin responds, and Felix rolls his eyes.

"So what happened to your guy?"

"I think the hotdog was bad, I don't know," Jeongin says, scratching his chin. "He got it from back of some guys car. Maybe food poisoning."

The sound of the door swinging open grabs their attention, and they watch as their principal walks in.

"How can there already be two people back, the exam just start- oh"

Principal Park sighs as he looks at the two students in his office. Of course it's these two again. He adjusts his glasses and addresses them.

"You both know the drill, be back for the written test in two weeks," he says, and leaves them alone in the lobby again.

Felix stands up to leave, and a familiar phrase escapes his lips.

"You know, I'm starting to think we might not be good at this."

Jeongin wraps his arm around Felix's shoulder, and says the same thing he always does when doubt creeps in.

"This was just a test round! Next time is the real deal. We'll get it for sure!"

And with that, they leave to prepare for their next exam, memories of their latest failure already being buried away.

[fool-inthe-rain]

All the Right Reasons

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader

wc: 1500~

Content: Fluff!!!! Angst if you squint. Use of she/her pronouns, use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Request: I’m a hoe for Sirius Black and was wondering if you could write a Sirius Black x Potter!reader secret relationship. Maybe some sneaking around and getting found out and James being mad or something but with a happy ending. 

Anon I'm so sorry this took much longer than I expected it to. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy reading!

Navigation

To say they were in love, well, that would be an understatement. The pair were totally and completely infatuated with each other. They did a remarkable job of hiding their intimacy, however. The only other person who knew about the relationship between Sirius Black and Y/n Potter was, of course, Remus Lupin. It’s not like they wanted him to know, but when he walked in on them making out on Sirius’s bed, it was pretty difficult from there on out to hide what was going on from him. 

Remus was, unsurprisingly, incredibly supportive of them. Sure, he was skeptical at first. Who wouldn’t be? Sirius Black, best friend of James Potter, and dating his twin sister? Remus made it a point to set boundaries, even though he knew, he didn’t want to hear about it or see anything too relationship-y from either of them. The less he knew the better. The last thing he wanted was to know every detail of their relationship, and have James find out he knew. Remus knew Sirius and y/n better than either would admit, that being said, even though they had been diligent so far, he knew how incredibly unstealthy the two were. James was bound to find out sooner rather than later. 

Summer was hard. What with Sirius living with the Potters and all. This was his third summer with them, and his last, as they were going into 7th year and would–hopefully–be graduating. Sirius spent his nights waiting for James to fall asleep so he could sneak into y/n’s room. He was exceedingly grateful that James was such a heavy sleeper. 

Sirius was already laying out a game plan in his mind for how he and y/n would get ample alone time during the three-month break. He figured it wouldn’t be much different than last summer, but he still wanted to be prepared for what he liked to call ‘unprecedented changes to the mission’ the mission being their relationship. To his credit, Hogwarts was much larger and much easier to sneak around in, so y/n let him have his silly code phrases as long as it meant they would still be able to get away from James when needed. 

They had gotten home late, as the ride from Kings Cross to the Potter’s home was excruciatingly long and boring. Euphemia and Fleamont let them know in the car that come morning, they would be heading out for a small family engagement on the coast. James and y/n were not expected to attend as it was extended family they really had no relationship with. As soon as Sirius heard the house would be free of adults for a few days the gears started turning in his head. When they had finally gotten home, decisions were silently made between Sirius and y/n to just sleep for the night, no sneaking around. They were too drowsy to be careful. 

Sirius and James parted ways from y/n and made their way to their shared bedroom only a few doors down from hers. 

“Thinking of going out tomorrow with a few old friends from the neighborhood. You game?” James asked Sirius, turning his head to look at his friend.

Sirius smirked from where he was standing, facing away from James. 

“Nah mate, you have fun. I think I’m just gonna hang out here, maybe see about that motorcycle I had been telling you about.” He was trying to hide the smile from his voice. This was almost too perfect. Effie and Fleamont would be out, James would be out, and then there were two. 

“Alright, well if you change your mind…” James’s sentence trailed off into a yawn. “Godric, I’m bloody tired.”

“Me too.” Was all Sirius could get out before he caught James’s yawn. 

James turned the light off and within seconds the pair was asleep. The next morning, as per usual, y/n was up early, in time to see her parents off. James woke up around mid-morning and when the clock hit 12:30, Sirius was still sound asleep. 

“I’m heading out for the day. I’ll be home around dinner.” James yelled as he left the shared bedroom, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

“Mhm, whatever.” Sirius grumbled from under his sheets, sticking one limp hand out to wave away his best friend. 

James made his way out the door, offering a quick goodbye to his sister while tousling her hair. When she was sure he had left, she silently made her way upstairs, creaking open the door to Sirius’s bedroom. 

“I thought you left?” Sirius once again grumbled in annoyance, if there was one thing he hated more than his family, it was being woken up. 

“Oh? And where exactly was I supposed to be going?” y/n snickered teasingly.

Sirius turned around in the bed, enough so he was facing the door. A large smile was plastered on his face as he held the sheets up signaling for her to join him. Of course, she did, when Sirius Black wants you in his bed, you go. 

He draped an arm around her waist, running his hand up and down her back as they two just admired each other, and basked in the silence of the house. 

“This is nice.” She squeaked out, it didn’t matter that they had been together for almost a year she still got nervous around him.

“It’s exceptional. How lucky we are. First day home and we have it all to ourselves.” Sirius punctuated his sentence with a long kiss to her lips. 

The two were so wrapped up in quiet conversation, and each other's eyes that neither had heard the front door open. They certainly didn’t hear footsteps coming up the stairs, but they did hear the bedroom door opening and the loud gasp that followed. 

“What the hell are you two doing? Get off my sister!” James was wide-eyed as he stood in the doorway.

The two sprung out of bed, y/n’s chest was heaving from the adrenaline his yelling had caused. Sirius stood slightly behind her.

“I can explain!” Sirius quickly offered.

“Oh, I’d love to hear this! What you bed my sister and then leave her out to dry like every other girl?” James was fuming. “Give me one reason not to punch you right now.” 

“I love her.” Sirius shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Y/n snapped her head back to look at him, her eyes wide in shock. They hadn’t said that before. Sure she thought about it, but to hear him say it made her heart swell.

“Okay, can I just say you two with the wide eyes, you look creepily alike so can you please stop with that look?” Sirius deadpanned as if he had just not made an earth-shattering confession. 

“You love her?”

“You love me?” 

The twins said in synch and Sirius just nodded. 

“Of course I do,” he was looking at y/n “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” His eyes were full of honey and adoration. 

“I love you too-” Before she could get in another word James cut her off.

“Okay, wait, lemme get this straight. You guys are dating?”

The couple nodded.

“Merlin’s beard,” James ran his hands down his face a few times, trying to grasp the situation at hand, “How long?” 

“Almost a year.” y/n squeaked out, afraid that he would get angry again for keeping it from him for so long.

“Okay, okay.” James sat on his bed.

“And you,” He pointed at Sirius, “Love her?” He pointed at his twin sister. 

“Yeah mate, I really do,” Sirius said, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” James asked, a twinge of hurt lacing his words.

“Mate, one of the first things you ever told Moony and I was that y/n was off limits. I thought you were gonna rip my head off!” 

“Well I mean yeah if you were gonna use her for a quick fuck then I would be pissed, but you love each other,” he stood up, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “who am I to deny love!” he cried out with a dramatic flair, drawing them both into an equally as dramatic hug. 

“Why are you even home? I thought you were going out?” Y/n questioned when he let go of them.

“Yeah I forgot something, but now I can’t remember what it was.” 

James took in the sight before him one more time before picking his backpack back up.

“Oh, young love! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He left the room and the couple could hear his loud laughter as he exited through the front door once again. 

“Well, he took that better than I expected.” Sirius smiled. “Now shall we pick up where we left off?” He got back into the bed, lifting up the sheets the same as he did before. 

Getting in the bed she couldn’t hold back her happiness any longer.

“You love me! Sirius Black is capable of love!” She sniggered poking at his sides. 

“Oh come off it!” He responded with a smirk of his own.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Hello! I really liked the short story you wrote of Seth and Al’s reaction with sb’s ex, so I wanted to ask if you could do one with Finn and sunflowers’s toxic ex?

Oh, ew it's you again.

TW: toxic ex, mentioned past stalking, mentioned death threats, past break up, idk how to feel about this bc of writer's block hopefully y'all enjoy this!!

"Hey Finn, I got your shirt-" Greeting their boyfriend, Sunflower looks up and sees their ex. With Finn looking very uncomfortable, using the shopping cart to have space between them.

"(Y/N), great your here-" Smiling at them, Sunflower sighed loudly and reached for their phone. "Wait- no please don't call the police-"

Trying to speak again, panicking the ex tries to reach for them. But Finn pushed the shopping cart into her, causing the woman to glare at him. Continuing to call the police Sunflower smiled a bit as Finn blocked them from her line of sight.

"I have a restraining order against you. So, yes, Aliyah I'm calling the police. This is what the third time you've tried to do this shit." Rolling their eyes, Sunflower smiled at Finn who got in front of them. He tried his best to look intimidating, the blonde even started moving them to where more people where.

"Come on, Sunflower. Let's go over here. In case she tries to do something to us." Whispering, Finn gently guided his partner to the check out area. A few shoppers around them heard the commotion and started watching a bit.

"I still can't believe you got that stupid restraining order! It's just a paper! Plus I didn't mean any of the threats I told you! Come on you know I love you-" Rambling Aliyah tried grabbing for you again and Finn slapped her hand. Causing the ex to freeze and look at him like he was the crazy one.

"Yes. I did just hit you. Back up, you don't have any right to be by my partner or me. You sent them death threats because they broke up with you. So, if you do try to touch MY partner again, I will hit you." Calmly explaining, Finn saw the stores security coming to them. Some bystanders started telling Aliyah off and Sunflower just smiled as it all went down.

Store security dragged Aliyah away and some of the people asked if the couple were okay. Being tired Sunflower let Finn explain the situation, how Aliyah has been trying to contact them over the years after the break up. How there was stalking, death threats and gifts sent to them to the point they had to move like three times.

The police showed up, everyone who saw Aliyah go to Sunflower gave a statement and the ex was ushered away. Finn held the bags of stuff they were there to originally buy before being interrupted rudely. Walking to the car, the couple check it to see if anything was tampered with.

"Hopefully, this time she'll get it through her fucking head I don't want her." Grumbling, Sunflower got inside and sat in the passenger seat. Tears weld up in their eyes, they were so tired of this shit. Finn frowned and pulled out the snack he bought to cheer them up.

"I know, but she did get arrested. Let's just go home and relax then figure this out tomorrow okay?" Sunflower nodded at his words. That seemed like a good idea, seeing Aliyah again on a nice day just threw them off. Looking at Finn they started crying, causing Finn to panic. However, these were happy tears.

"I'm so glad I found you." Sniffling out, Sunflower leaned to Finn and hugged him tightly. Gently comforting them, the blonde patted their back. "God I hate ex's."

This caused Finn to snort and nod, thinking about his own sighing as he out the part in reverse. Pulling out of the parking lot and heading to his house, Finn continued to try and lighten up Sunflower's mood. Sitting in the car looking at the glasses wearing man, Sunflower smiled, happy they got at least a sane partner compared to their shitty ex.

[pauking5]

Runaway 🏎️ Chapter 2 🏁

Pairing: Naozumi Hiyama x fem reader oc

Genre: racing AU, enemies to lovers, rivalry, suspense, a whole lot of teasing, gender power games, spice

Word count: 13.1k+

A/N: Chapter 2 already? Hope you're enjoying it so far. I spoiled you with this one ;) Things are slowly getting heated, both racing wise and a little up close and personal this time around. I'm rallying behind what's hopefully my last uni work this week so hope this one's good. Enjoy lovelies.

Raiko's Playlist: Monster - A7S with Alok, Locked out of Heaven - Bruno Mars, Youngblood - R3HAB Remix, Greedy - Tate McRae, Ocean Drive - Duke Dumont, Into You - 3LAU Remix, She Doesn't Mind - Krmoni, Something On My Mind - Purple Disco Machine & Duke Dumont & Nothing But Thieves, Bad Boy - Chungha & Christopher, React - Pussycat Dolls

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Day 2 of Tour de Tokai

"Rai, take it easy," said Tanaka worriedly over the coms. "The new suspensions will break if you push them too hard."

You would happily take it easy peasy lemon squeezy if the road wasn't turning the car into a fucking death trap, going at over 100 kilometers per hour on the most difficult and curved track in the world.

Any miscalculated sway of the wheel could project you into the ditch at the side of the road, kissing goodbye to any chance of completing this stage. Which unfortunately did happen in the first one this morning.

That bold black lettering spelling out DNF next to your name on the scoreboard was not what you expected after bagging third place on the first day. Bitter wasn't even close to describing how you felt. Sour, dejected, with an ever-growing pit of disgust for this tour sounded more like it.

Frankly, it wasn't even supposed to happen. It was a rookie mistake. One that cost you a bunch of points.

At one turn, halfway through the race, your car hit a rocky mound neither you or Tanaka saw in the pre-race drive. An anomaly that birthed itself from thin air most likely. Coming towards it at full speed with no time to break and avoid it, the car slid over it scratching a big part of the chassis by the loud screech drilling in your ears and the lower back bumper, sending your rear right into a deep ditch.

You revved the engine multiple times to get it out and back on the road but the car simply refused to work with you, wheels spinning in the gravel underneath uselessly keeping the car suspended. You were towed out by the marshals, driving back to the station in shame after hogging up at least ten minutes off everyone else's stage time. The rest of the drivers scowled at you, angrily waving you off the road to get to the start line. Being called a rookie in insult after that and not something else was actually a compliment.

Tour de Tokai was spread out so unevenly and it bugged you beyond prevail because it put insane pressure on the car that was barely out of the factory still. With new components too.

The first day had one long stage over 40 km but it was a full paved track, much more easier to take on, hence the good result you had yesterday. Today on the other hand, consisted of three awful stages around a mix of tarmac and off-road dirt tracks in the depths of the valley, over shorter distances but challenging on every part of the car. You already screwed up one of them in one of the more rougher patches of terrain. It was out of the way. But at what cost? At the cost of my cheerios being spilt on the floor this morning. That's what.

Thankfully, you only had two more stages left for the day. Then the final two tomorrow. If your car managed to stay in one piece until then. Tough life out here.

You were currently on the second stage, driving down a dirt road just like the one that put you out of the race. Tight, soliciting and full of chicanes. You tried your hardest to keep the car on the road this time.

Half of the smooth grey asphalt already ended, leading into a curved forest path, sheltered entirely by dense pine trees on each side. The early afternoon sun peaked out through the branches, blinding you even through the laminated flaps on your visor, further adding to your irritation.

"4 left 50," spoke your co-driver, usually steady voice broken by the jolting path.

Medium corner in 50 meters. A little breather.

"2 right very tight over crest," he shouted, hand shooting up to the safety handle as you ran over a bump.

Very tight corner over the hill.

You accelerated up the hill, going airborne for a few meters before the car landed back down on the ground with a jarring wobble shaking you in your seat.

"1 left 100."

100 meters running up to the tightest corner.

A hairpin section in this hellhole after two taxing corners that pulled the car sideways brutally. Just what you needed. This was a no go drifting portion. The desire to go wide was so overpowering, but you couldn't push the limit. If you went the slightest into understeering the car, it was game over again. Another DNF. More points lost and even more damage on the car the current fund couldn't cover until you did some promotions.

Come on, honey, you rubbed the steering wheel in support, trying to get the car to listen to you. Stay with me. We're almost there.

Sure enough the dreaded hairpin section came into view faster than you could prepare for it. Up ahead, the road dove into lower ground to the right - a sharp C turn - harbored by a high hill lifting into greenery on one side and an excavated one that curled above the road with a few public stands on the other.

You cut the gas and tapped the brake just when you entered the slight curve of the curb, tyres skidding over the coarse gravel. It was tight as hell.

The forces of the momentum you gained on the straight portion pre-corner shoved you back in the seat so harsh you felt that turn with your whole body. Your forearms shook trying to keep control of the wheel in your hands, heaving breaths like crazy. Don Tanaka got squished to the door, belts working overtime to keep you both strapped safely. Your boot pressed to the floor with all your might to keep it near the pedals, rear at the back lifting up in the air.

Exiting the curve, you turned the wheel straight cueing the throttle back in way too fast. The tyres screeched horribly loud behind the car as you lost grip of the road.

"Fuck!"

The car took every incoming bump jerking you in all sides while you grappled with keeping it on course. You were going way too fast on wild ground, untouched by cement. You had to slow down. It would inevitably add more time to your lap that you can't make up anywhere on the rest of the course, but at least you wouldn't crash into a hill at 100 kmph or flip over in an area that was too inaccessible for marshals to come get you. You couldn't risk it.

Fuck this.

It wasn't up to debate. You let the throttle loose. A quick glance at your speedometer and your anxiety was quickly replaced by anger at seeing the speed decrease - 90, 80, 70 kmph. Way too slow. The heaps of bumps and craters scattered to smaller mounds, still threatening your safety, but they were manageable now.

Seething with burning rage, you let the speed decrease till it got to 50 finally gaining back full control of the car, then amped up the speed again, pressing the gas pedal to the floor. The engine roared alive under the hood, pumping fuel like a beast as it propelled you forwards at breakneck speed.

Now we're talking, baby.

"5 right 200 very long."

Easy wide corner in 200 meters.

You had some time to catch up there. Hitting the throttle again to increasing the speed even more you took it like a pro, drifting over the last off-road patch, sliding back on the straight asphalt. The crowd in the stands stood up, cheering loudly over the roar of the engine as you took the straight fast like lightning.

"Last one. 6 left 50. Flat out."

Flat corner in 50 meters. Take it fast Rai. Bring it home.

Taking the corner with a wide drift, the car finally reacted the way you wanted it to for once, gripping the road nicely. You gained an extra 20 on the exit, cutting off at least half a second on your lap time. If that even made up for the rest of the time you lost in those shitty corners.

The cheers got louder than the music booming over the speakers, crowds getting smoked by the dust you raised up in the air with that last drift. Before you knew it, it was all done. This stage anyways.

Who even picked this course? I hope they slip and fall in the toilet every time they go for a wee for the rest of the race weekend.

Driving back to the station, you parked the car neatly in place. Unfastening all the belts to ply your body away from the seat, you slumped against the wheel with eyes closed, letting out a long heavy breath you've been holding in for a while. The adrenaline in your body plummeted so fast it left you panting like you ran a marathon, trying to catch your breath and let out some built-up steam.

That was so nerve-wracking. No amount of training or racing over and over again would prepare you for the obstacles that can just jump at you out of nowhere. Obstacles that can very well end your career that barely even started.

Thanks to your quick reaction time, you avoided a lot of road hazards that could've sent you and Tanaka in flimsy hospital gowns. You did get control of the situation before it was too late, which was great. But some of those calls were way too close for your liking. So, so close.

"Hey," Tanaka piped up, gloved hand patting your back gently. You turned your still helmet-encased head at him. "You did good out there. Others would've let it crash in the side and pay for the damages, but you redressed the car back on track. It takes a lot to pull that off."

You pulled off the helmet, running a hand through your hair in frustration. You did almost crash. But you saved it. Because you had more stages left and no back up car for it. Because your father put way too much money into it to let it smash to pieces and pay for the damages. Because your co-driver's life was in your hands just like yours for that matter. There were so many reasons why you tried so hard to save it. Though none of them calmed that worry in the pit of your stomach that it could've been so much worse.

But you were a driver. Things like these were part of the job description. You can move on for a while but they'll always haunt you.

"Come on," he took your helmet. "Let's go see the scoreboard."

"I'd rather not," you smiled apologetically. "I'll go get some food. I could eat a week's worth of steak right now."

You were hungry as hell. But getting out of the car and away from the track for a bit was more of a priority and you hoped Tanaka would see past it. A therapy session about why shit happens sometimes was not what you needed right now.

"Okay," he chuckled. "Let me know if you need anything, lightning strike. I'll be around."

"Yeah," you nodded quietly more to yourself.

You got out of the car, passing a few smiles in sympathy to the team that got working on replacing the back bumper right away. Some of them patted your back in the same supportive manner.

On your way out of the station you passed by the screen displaying the scoreboard. You tried your hardest not to stop by but your eyes just fleeted there in curiosity. A curiosity that was left better unsatisfied.

Rai Suruki - 12th place - 1.53.07. Out of twenty. Not too bad all things considered.

Dwelling on it for a bit you tried to let it go. At least you weren't in the shoes of the one unlucky driver that ended up with a DNF at the bottom. Poor bastard- Wait. Getting closer to the screen to make sure your eyes didn't betray you, you read the line again in shock.

Naozumi Hiyama - 20th place - DNF.

Before it even registered in your head, the screen changed to replay the scenes right before disaster. You watched the distinctive blue hues on his car whizz by as he got past the first corners like an expert, lap time near perfect midway through the race. Until he drove into the tight corner that nearly broke your car in half. He took it just like you did, tight and miscalculated, unaware of the chaos on the other side.

What happened to you happened to him too - he lost grip on the back, taking on the uneven rocky bumps at full speed. All that knowledge of rally was thrown out the window in seconds as he struggled to keep the car under control. Then something even weirder happened - fumes leaped out from under the hood. Engine failure.

Instead of slowing down to prevent a crash and the engine from overheating more, he accelerated, hellbent on keeping the few points he gathered so far. What the hell was he thinking? The front tyres of his car took a high mound that sent him airborne landing right in the deep channel of the next corner, smashing the front into a hill portion. Nope, he wasn't thinking. That right there is idiocy.

The angry screech of tyres in the station next to yours sparked your attention. You peeked your head in at the side, bending over a tool table watching the chaos unfold. The front bumper cover was smashed into the car, like it just swallowed it up, along with a big part of the hood. Mechanics rushed over, struggling to get the hood open and cool the engine sending smoke through the broken cracks. Other staff ran around with fire extinguishers just in case the car caught fire.

Those were replaceable, already at the ready by the side. What wasn't replaceable was Naozumi's impending wrath about to rain down on the team like metal pikes.

Naozumi got out of the car boiling with fury, throwing his helmet off into the seat, smashing the door shut making the whole car shake at the impact. You looked back with pity at your little blue and gold princess, muttering I would never do that to you. Turning back, you caught him running an angry hand through the mess of his helmet hair, closing in fast on the same man he had a scuffle with just yesterday.

"Care to explain why I got an engine failure mid-race of all times?" he shouted at the mechanic, tongue pushing his cheek impatiently. He didn't really look like he expected an answer, simply wanting to vent off his own mistake.

"I told you not to push it. Not my fault you're too hardheaded to understand simple directions," he shouted back, having had enough of his tantrums.

"There's one more stage left today. If this happens again I will make sure-"

He struck a nerve with that unfinished sentence, making the taller man drop what looked like a new water pump for the engine right on top of the tool box with a loud clatter.

"Make sure of what exactly, your highness? Throwing me off the team? That didn't work the last time you tried, did it?"

Naozumi clicked his jaw and glared at him with all his pent up rage before he stormed off to his trailer to cool down. He didn't give a shit about the looks the people around fixed on him, and they didn't dwell for too long either, everyone scattering back to their jobs.

Seems like no one was taking today that well.

Padding around the vans lined up with all kinds of fast-food only dimmed your appetite. The good ones were closed for a break until the last race, which was in an hour. Your body needed the food so bad, you were willing to drive to a restaurant in the city, which was like two hours away. If only you had time.

Ready to give up, you spotted a nice looking bacon and ham sandwich at a shabby stand just on the side of the food court. Scouring over their window from a distance, it looked like the last one. Better than going back on an empty stomach.

You jogged up to order before anyone else could. Too engrossed in reaching the till you failed to notice someone slide in before you. Too late to pull the breaks, you collided into a hard shoulder, nearly losing your footing and falling face first on the ground. Strong hands gripped your upper arms to keep you upright just like you caught theirs in return.

Looking up, your quick apology got stuck in your throat. Two round chocolate balls gazed down at you, eyebrows raised in surprise. Those eyes could put chocolate to shame, glowing like priceless pralines, the special kind you eat once a year on Christmas.

Dark brown hair framed the side of his face, matted in messy waves. A pair of black sunglasses sat on top of it, pushing the front locks into small curls. Trailing your eyes downwards, you were greeted by two moles on the side of his face, right under his lower lip, stamped like two mini vampire bites. Cute. White fireproofs in darker logos stretched over his broad chest, complimenting his tan complexion so well. You were grateful for the strong hands that held your arms in a firm grip since your knees went a little weak.

Otherworldly was the only word you could find in the empty sea of your mind to describe this man. And not even that one did him justice. Not even close.

He seemed just as entranced by you, trained on your face for a while then swiping down your racing suit that was still done up to your neck, preserving all the heat of your previous ride as well as pulling the outside heatwave into it, turning into a body sauna. Or was it all coming from him? You couldn't tell.

His warm eyes searched your face with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Even his voice is beautiful.

"Huh? Me? Yeah, yeah. I'm good," you finally straightened letting go of him. "Are you uhh... good?"

"I'm good," he said, his palms loosening on you until they slid down, away from you.

"Good."

Placing your hair behind your ears out of nervous habit, you looked back at him, finding a smile so sweet on his face it could give you a sugar rush if you stared too long. Dear heavens.

"I don't think we've met before," he started extending a polite hand to you, smile fully popping with dimples now even though those moles on his chin eclipsed them fully. "I'm-"

"Akira Shinkai," you cut him off breathless, grabbing his hand in excitement. "You've been in Sigma Academy. You're also the youngest of the junior series that got picked to drive at a top team and you hold countless records on track. You're a legend," you said all of that in one breath.

His head dipped, ears going the smallest tint of pink, as did your cheeks at the realization that you were kind of fangirling over him big time. Who wouldn't if they had the chance to stumble upon rally royalty? Dad doesn't count. He's expired already.

"And you're Rai Suruki."

He knows my name.

"I saw your stage back there," he added.

All your excitement washed away at the mention of your near fuck up of a race.

"Yeah," you rubbed the back of your neck. "It wasn't my best."

"Are you joking?!" His chocolate orbs widened at you like you said something wrong. "That was some badass understeer maneuvering if I've ever seen any. You're the legend here."

Oh. That was unexpected. Getting complimented by one of the current best drivers in rally racing like you didn't step into the car just yesterday. It got your heart thundering in your chest, rising the blood to your cheeks once again.

"T-thank you," you cleared your throat looking away. "You did great too," you hit back remembering his insane lap time on the board. His smile only deepened at that.

"They do have some good sandwiches here," he pointed at the van behind you. By the looks of it, he was a regular at the stand. Even the older lady at the till gave him a smile in recognition that he reciprocated just as warmly.

"Too bad they only have one left," you sighed defeated, looking back at the lone sandwich.

"You can have it," he urged.

"No, I'm good," you waved him off. "I was craving something else anyway."

"You sure?" he quipped an eyebrow, not really buying your retreat.

Well, you did bump into him almost decking him over to buy it. Looking back and forth between his brown eyes and the deliciously packed sandwich on the other side of the glass window, bacon and salad leaves hanging so appetizing on the side of the bread, you nodded.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

No, you weren't sure. You were far from sure. But you weren't about to have the who gets the sandwich dispute. Passing him one last smile and another speedy apology for bumping into him, you walked off with your tail between your legs before he could argue.

That looked like the best sandwich on earth. Everything looks delicious to you when you're hungry, Rai. Well yeah, but that one might've tasted heavenly. Too late now.

You roved around the rest of the stands, trying not to breathe in too much of the smell of barbecued meat and fries and salad and all the delicacies that could be in your stomach already but lingered in the air instead. The other stalls at the end of the food court had insane long queues or no food available yet since they were still cooking the late batches.

I'll have more luck in the forest at this point.

A hand grabbed your arm out of nowhere. You were about to sucker punch its owner when you came face to face with Akira once more. He ducked out of the way and caught your fist before it could plant itself in his face.

"What-"

He held up the large bacon and ham sandwich between you as a sign of peace. "This sandwich is way too big for me to eat alone. Wanna share with me?"

"Are you sure? I don't wanna steal your lunch." You lowered your fist down. "We barely get to eat as is."

"Which is why you should have some before we're called back," he pushed it to you again, hopeful that you would accept his friendly offer. Before you could even debate it, your stomach grumbled loudly making him laugh. "I guess that settles it."

"Fine," you gave in.

You found a table off the radar just at the edge of the food court, beside a luscious green patch of dense forest, away from perpetrators like the press or the crew. Birds chirped around in the trees, sun shining so bright you were glad for the umbrella above. It was a little corner of quiet in the chaos. Akira sat down opposite you, pulling out a cup filled with fries to the brim out of thin air.

"Where'd you nick that from?"

"A fan gave it to me."

That must happen quite a lot if he just willingly accepted stuff. Was he sure it's not poisoned or something? Your stomach rumbled again in need of fuel. Ah well, might as well die by eating french fries.

Splitting the sandwich in half, you knocked the halves together like a toast and dove in. The soft baguette melted into your mouth along with the perfectly greased bacon, the squishy ham and the rest of the salad leaves and round tomato slices. It even had a nice sauce on the inside. He was right. They do make some mean sandwiches.

Shimmying out of your suit to cool off, you were left in your fireproofs, letting the breeze card through your hair, enjoying the food in sheer delight. The adrenaline rush came and went so fast back there on track that it took most of your energy with it. Filling up with food was the only way to restore it and if it was good food, you were guaranteed to get it all back quicker.

"This sandwich is so good," you mumbled with your mouth full.

"I told you," he mused through big bites of his own.

"Yeah, you did," you chuckled.

You both finished the food and sat in a comforting silence. Drawing random patterns in the wooden table, you felt this sudden need to find out more about the man before you. Though you weren't sure what to even ask since most of his information was out there thanks to his fangirls. By god, you weren't one of them, but you did know a lot about him. Okay, maybe more than a normal person should know about him, but alas.

Just when you mustered up a question he beat you to it.

"Have you been racing for long?"

"For about 8 years now. Started with karting, made my way through the juniors for a bit and some lower series and now I'm here."

"I bet it's nice having someone like your dad support you in it." He looked down at the scrunched up sandwich wrapper in his hands, passing it from one to the other with something akin to bitterness in his eyes that went away as quick as it came.

"It is," you nodded with a meek smile. "Most of the time anyway. It's hard trying to revive a dead team after so long but I'm trying my best."

"Are you trying for yourself or for him?"

That was a damn good question. You never thought about it in depth before. You jumped up at the thought of finally being helpful with something that you and your dad both loved with a strong passion. But was it for him, to make him forget the pain and move on from the past? Or was it for you and ensuring you had some kind of a better future doing something you loved? Beats me.

"I think maybe a bit of both?" you said, unsure of which one weighed more or less than the other.

"Eh, it doesn't really matter," he said softly leaning back to stretch his shoulders. "You've been here for two days and you're already showing results others would dream of having so early in their career. Give yourself some credit," he ended with a knock on the wooden table, pointing back at you.

You stared at him in awe. He really was so well-spoken. That and the fact he glowed like an angel with a missing halo above his head. Or maybe it was the afternoon sun shining warmly over him.

"Thanks," you replied sheepishly. "What about you? Why does Akira Shinkai race?"

He smiled looking at the ground and sat thinking for a while. You just looked at him soaking even more of his calm presence in. His chin laid on top of his palm, eyes peering off in the distance like you just asked him what he had for breakfast Wednesday last week. Then his eyes suddenly lit up.

"I want to become someone people look up to. I've always liked cars of all kinds and the minute I sat down in a go-kart I just knew I wanted to race. I guess I kinda wanted to feel that thrill on a daily basis," he chuckled at which you laughed a little too.

"Sureeeee, 'cause going at lightning speed on some of the most dangerous roads known to men multiple times a day is everyone's dream when they get in bed at night."

"Maybe it is. Who are we to judge?" he lifted his hands up in surrender making you laugh some more.

On the way back to the station, you both talked some more. About your hopes and dreams, your families, and the rest of the stages left. You both cursed the damn track that nearly totaled your cars and found out you had a lot in common. Behind that idol-like presences in the media, he was actually a very laid-back guy.

Coming up to your pen, he smiled warmly at you once more. That sweet, honey-dripping, serotonin-inducing smile. Talking to him put you in such good vibes that you forgot all about what made you upset before. Until you felt the energies shift for the negative at your back.

Whirling around, you came face to face with Naozumi. He seemed a tad bit calmer than before when he used his mechanic as an emotional punching bag, scrolling aimlessly on his phone. Spotting you, he threw that unnerving shit-eating grin on his face sending it your way with a small wave. All your good spirits warded off at the gesture.

You abstained from throwing him a middle finger in response settling on a scowl. Then his eyes went to your lunch companion, throwing him a way more conceited smile. Akira stiffened beside you for a moment, zeroing in on the other driver, before he turned back to you in a haste like he was suddenly in a rush.

"Good luck out there."

"You too."

"See you around," he bid you goodbye, regarding Naozumi with another loaded look before he went on his way.

You lingered by the team banner, watching his back retreat farther in the distance before it disappeared into his team's red and black pen at the end of the paddock lines. At least one of these men knew how to politely introduce themselves.

Spinning back, you caught Naozumi still behind you simply watching you with some kind of assertiveness that pushed your buttons. You wanted to ask if he needed help finding respect and manners when he just walked off to his own pen. Weird.

Walking to your car, you came face to face with Don Tanaka's sharp stare. What is it with men and staring today? His foot tapped the cement so fast you were sure it could drill a hole to the other end of the planet if he amped the speed just a tiny bit. It was the kind of staredown you get after going to a party with the popular clique, getting home past your curfew. The one that also meant your pocket money would cease their presence in your wallet for a month.

"What?" you gulped out, confused at being received so warmly.

"Why are you fraternising with the enemies?"

"Enemies?" you paused, even more dumbfounded. "I'm not following."

"Naozumi Hiyama and Akira Shinkai," he shook his head in disappointment. "Do I need to remind you we don't need press to jump on us and that your father kinda has a bad history with their teams?"

"Whoa, hold on. Rewind the CD. What do you mean by bad history?"

He walked you off to the deserted lounge area by the pen, making sure you were alone. In all the years you've known him, you've never once seen him this stressed. The man was a trainer. If anything, he was the stress.

"Sigma Racing's team principal used to race your father back in the day. They used to be sort of best friends, if we put it that way."

"What happened?"

"Once they got past the junior series, they both went after the same team and your father got picked instead of him. It all turned really sour between them after that."

"How sour are we talking?" you interjected. "Like gooseberries or those really sour gummy jellies that you choke on when the sugar bits get stuck in your throat?" He threw you a look asking for more seriousness. "Okay, continue."

"Sour in the sense that he tried to sabotage your dad every chance he got. Be it in racing or life itself. He never liked seeing him so successful, always living in the shadows of the second place on the podium, with his own racing, with his team, even with business. Being second to everything your father did got to him in the worst ways. Your father didn't even mean it to be that way."

"He tried to make amends, didn't he?"

Knowing your father he probably tried to mend that crack in their friendship until there was no more glue left in the world to put the pieces back together.

"Every chance he got. They were so close it was hard to even watch it fall apart from the sidelines."

Sounds like dad.

Rewinding back to the whole enemies part, you failed to see where Akira and Naozumi stood in this story.

"But Akira isn't related to that guy," you pointed out. "He just drives under him."

"Yes, but Sigma Racing didn't become one of the top teams in Japanese rally through genuine hard work," he sighed heavily. "A lot of people are unaware of this because they hid it well," he leaned in closer, warily looking left and right before continuing, "but they pulled a lot of strings to get to where they are today. Some of them not through the finest approaches."

You wouldn't question that information since Tanaka worked as a trainer for them for a while. But you did wonder just how much dirt he had on them. But that was a rabbit hole to dive into another day.

Okay, so Sigma Racing was red flagged before you even looked their way. Thankfully, no one knew you tried out as a ghost driver for them about a year ago or it would raise a scandal that would send your father to the intensive care unit. Throwing that to the side you went to the other walking red flag deemed as an enemy.

"What about Naozumi?"

"Well, not Naozumi directly, but Tsuzuki, Spica Racing's director. He used to be a shareholder in Suruki Racing before the team fell apart. He was your father's biggest sponsor, providing most of the parts for the cars. One day, right before chaos started raining down on the team, he retracted all his support just like that," he snapped his fingers, "out of nowhere."

"Without a notice?"

He shook his head. "None. He cut down all ties with your father without a solid reason."

"Okay, but Naozumi and Akira don't seem to have anything to do with this mess. It seems like more of an old generation battle we don't want to be part of."

"I really hope you won't get dragged into this mess," he rubbed the edges of his moustache. Something he did when he was really worried. "What I mean with all this is that I just want you to keep an eye out. Rally racing is a dirty world. You never know who's out to get you."

Great. Now I have to watch out for every breathing soul around me. Never a dull moment here.

A loud voice boomed over the surrounding speakers around the paddock, announcing that the next and last stage of the day starts in half an hour.

"Let's get you ready."

The last stage of the day went better than you expected it to. The course was a full tarmac one this time with really wide corners. You only had to look out for dips beside it where your rear could slip and get pinched, and the dangerous sharp corners where the crowds loved to gather like sacrificial lambs. The car held a lot better too, gripping the road firmly on all turns.

Without further damage on the car, you finished fifth this time around, sandwiched in between Akira and Naozumi on the scoreboard. The latter had another mishap in a turn nearly ending up in a ditch again. There were fumes coming out of his ears rather than the engine when he got out of the car, ready to throttle anyone in his way, but at least it wasn't another DNF to shatter some more of his pride.

Surprisingly, your father plied himself away from the office headquarters in the hotel and came down to the station to congratulate the team on their efforts. You waited at the end of the line, watching as he smiled and patted everyone's shoulders for the good work. When he came to you, he stopped, smile slightly falling around the edges.

You had a hot and cold relationship with him. Most times it was the latter, cutting icy through the days when you were in the car. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a squeeze in support then turned back to everyone. That was as much as you'd get for now.

"I know you all must be tired," he started, taking in the sullen faces around the pen. "But our official car show is on later tonight in the hotel events hall. Go rest, dress up and come have a drink on the house."

That damn car show. You would rather be anywhere else than interacting with more people. You kind of had your social battery drained out for the rest of the day and it was barely 5 pm. But you had to be there for your father and the team.

Shortly after, the team dispersed to each their own. You trudged back to the hotel and had a well-deserved relaxing shower, washing off the fumes and sweat. When you came out, you were met with a dozen shiny designer bags all over the floor and your bed, together with your extremely stressed PR Agent.

Kate Yuzumi, or Yuzu (how you called her when she became a stress ball about to explode into pieces), has been in charge of your press-related endeavours for as long as you've been racing. She lived a huge chunk of her life in the States, before her parents returned back with her in tow. Now in her late 20s, she worked under your father, managing every little detail about your public image. She was also your only female friend in an overtly masculine rally world, just like you were hers.

She was the best at her job. A lioness in the wild jungle occupied by so many tigers. But there were times where she let it eat at her sanity, like now for example. She ran a mad hand through her long amber hair, messing around the soft caramel highlights on top as she paced your hotel suite from corner to corner, scribbling down in her notebook in a very frustrating manner. One harder press of that ball point pen and she would put a hole through the lined paper.

You cleared your throat announcing your presence. She whirled around to you, eyes blazing in a frenzy.

"Finally, you're out," she breathed out in relief. "Any longer and I would've called reception to cut down the water supply in your room."

"Really funny," you narrowed your eyes at her. "What's with all this?" you nodded at the endless heaps of bags littered around the room. You walked to one of the closest bags, decked in baby pink and paper ruffles, digging your hand through it to pull out a shimmery black dress.

"You need to look your best tonight. It's the first car show the team is having in years and your father insisted you dress accordingly."

You let the material slip out of your hands with a disgusted look on your face. One that she caught right away.

"No sulking or trying to evade it, Rai." She came up to you and placed both of her hands on your shoulders. "You're the only driver Suruki Racing has. You represent the team and you need to be there tonight, as boring and daunting as you may find it. Your father needs you there," she said softly, rubbing her thumbs over the bathrobe you wore. You gave her a look telling her you weren't in the mood to be poster girl after today.

"It'll be over before you know it," she urged.

"Yeah right," you blew a raspberry. "Those things always last so long."

"Well, you are part of this world now. So, woman up and go take charge of it," she smiled brightly, sounding so encouraging that it lit up a spark of content in you.

Slumping your shoulders with a pout, you decide there is no point in fighting it. The last time you tried to avoid an official event by hiding in the team garage, your father grounded you by having Tanaka train you like you were getting shipped to a Bear Grylls episode the next day. The very skin on your bones hurt like you saw hell briefly after that. Not doing that one again.

"Fine," you gave in. "Help me pick something normal out of this hurricane of clothes. It looks like a unicorn puked in here."

"A very stylish one," she held up a finger.

She ushered you back to the bathroom, picking up a hair dryer, a few dresses laid out on your bed and some branded makeup bags on the way. "Come on, we're running out of time. The event starts in two hours and you're far from ready."

Dolled up rather uncomfortably, you made your way to the event hall. Your heels clicked against the dark floors, looking at the décor your dad planned - gold and blue was the theme present all around. From the tables to the chairs decked in light sparkles to the crystal bar at the right of the stage lit up in blue with rows of champagne glasses, the team colours were everywhere in elegant and deep tones. Your father had a thing for interior design even if he denied it. Tanaka always joked he could work in the field if he ever got tired of racing.

It wasn't long before the hall was filled with chatter. You didn't expect so many people to come. Most were probably curious about you rather than the car or your dad's attempt at trying to be the main event again. Press came early and took up a lot of space, likely hoping to get a scoop of info out of you. Even the team principals, some drivers and bosses of other teams made their presence felt.

Your dad was busy greeting the crowd, shaking hands with that golden boy smile plastered on his face at all times. You hardly even got a chance to see him this week. While you've been stuck in training, testing and racing, he's been hauled up in the conference rooms going over paperwork or talking business night and day. The few nights you did get together, you would sit at dinner and make small talk, keeping to each their own.

Ever since he started revamping the team, he drowned himself in it completely. Not body and soul like before, but quite close to a robot devoid of feelings. Like he needed to breathe that success back into it no matter what.

With a troubled sigh, you stretched a hand to the bar to grab a glass of champagne. Your co-driver joined you, a glass of white wine in his hand.

"Champagne should be for the podium," he teased.

"It should be for whatever I want it to be," you stated, taking a sip in small vengeance.

"And what is it for now?"

Tanaka rounded around you, leaning against the bar next to you. You just stared ahead at your father, taking a bigger gulp of the alcohol with bitterness. He smiled at the two of you in sympathy.

"Nothing," you smiled back in reassurance, focusing on the swirl of the mellow golden liquid in your glass.

"He'll come around. Just give him time."

You nodded, more to yourself. Hopefully he will do it before he runs himself into the ground from stress. To see me race and be a father sometime like we promised. Following him through the crowd, you spotted him still in his tracks losing the dazzling smile on his face for a moment and sure enough you saw why.

Right in front of him sat Sigma Racing's team principal. Raven-haired in a clean dark suit, about the same age as your father, just a little more battered by it. The crooked grin on his face resembled a scowl so alarming, even you got angry at the condescending look he gave your father. They both held each other in a strong gaze, filled with a lot of ire, tension from it drifting away to the rest of the hall till it reached even you by the bar at the back.

Your father extended a somewhat friendly hand his way. A luxury he probably didn't deserve. The other man simply looked at it, scrunching his dark brow in suspicion before he shook it with a firm grip. Some words were exchanged between them, by the looks of it not that peaceful then they let go of each other. Just when you thought the great Hiro Suruki couldn't be moved, he looked like a boulder bigger than him just shoved him to the side of the road. There had to be more than just bad blood between them.

Before you knew it the event was in tow. The classical music drew out to a minor background noise for a tap of the microphone grabbing everyone's attention. Your father finally took to the stage, letting his prepared speech roll off his tongue like charmspeak.

"Hello and welcome everyone!"

He was welcomed himself by a big round of applause. Huh, he still has it. Fixing the bowtie matching his beige suit he continued even more relaxed.

"For those who don't know me, shame on you," he chuckled and the crowd followed. You could see so many familiar faces in the audience, there would hardly be anyone who didn't know him.

"For those who do, thank you for supporting me all these years with good thoughts. Or bad. We accept those too." That drew another laugh from the crowd.

"After nearly ten long years, Suruki Racing is back in business and better than ever. We started again from zero, putting everything into a new car, keeping the old glamour of the team, bringing in new spirits," he spared you a glance. "We couldn't have done this without you, the team and the star driver representing us on track."

Oh, no, no, no. Please don't call me up on stage. Please let me sit on the sidelines. Please, please, please.

"Please welcome my daughter."

Fuck me. At least don't use the government name.

"Raiko Suruki, the lightning strike powering Suruki Racing."

He used the government name.

Throwing back the rest of your champagne, you went up the stairs floating on the sound of breaking applauses and joined him on stage with a smile matching his extremely bright and fake one. This was all for show. No one gave a rat's ass about it anyway. But out of politeness and respect for your father you went with it.

Camera flashes burned in your vision from all corners of the room, momentarily blinding you as the press snapped pictures of you. Once you reached him, he turned to you with a grin. "Would you like to do the honours?"

Going behind the curtains, you got in the freshly polished rally car and turned it on, greeted by the purr of the engine as you gave it a good powerful rev announcing its arrival before you drove it on stage. The instrumental music boomed again as you reached the crowd, trumpets carrying out over the noise of the engine. You gave it a few more revs to drown out that horrible music. Your father laughed nervously as he turned to you with gritted teeth, shooting you a look to cut it out before he spinned back to the public with a smile.

Getting out of the car, you went to get off the stage thinking that was all when he called you over again. Mentally groaning that you couldn't get back to the shadows of the bar faster, you turned back and headed for him. He took a few questions from the press while you sat by his side, looking pretty, zoning out in your own world. That was until the press started directing questions at you and the microphone was pushed in your hand.

"What-," you let out, the sound of your uncalibrated voice bouncing off the speakers with a screech. "Sorry about that," you laughed nervously. "What was the question again?"

"Why did you choose to race in your father's team?" asked a female journalist. "From your broad skill set and experience, you could've been picked by any other team on the grid."

A shit show. That was what this was.

"Uhm," you paused, trying to think of something smart to say. Kate didn't really prepare you for this. You scanned the crowd, catching her figure by the bar at the far left. She rolled her hands around motioning you to just talk. Just wing it.

"I wanted to stay within the family business and help dad," you looked over at him giving him a sweeter and truer smile than the crowd could ever pull out of you, "get his dream up and running again. Suruki Racing means the world to him and it means the world to me to see him happy."

At that, his features softened and he looked like your dad for once tonight, under all the spotlight and glamour. He mouthed a subtle "Thank you" under his nose that you caught when you looked back at him. "Always" you mouthed back.

Thinking that was all, you prepared to pass the mic back to him when another reporter shoved a question your way.

"Why did Suruki Racing choose a female driver out of the wider talent pool out there?" asked a male reporter this time, his gaze piercing through you with something utterly similar to distaste.

Even the public turned their eyes on him, appalled at the tone but just as curious at the answer he would receive, focusing back on you.

One - he was clearly implying that you didn't have a talent for driving, comparing you to the other people in the junior series who were all predominantly men. Two - he was making it even more obvious that females didn't belong in the sport from the way he accentuated the words female driver like it was a bad omen. Three - the way he asked the question made your skin crawl with hot blood.

Before your dad could take your mic and reply to the question that was obviously meant for you, you lifted it back to your lips and stared the man down with all your might.

"Suruki Racing didn't choose me," you seethed, calm and collected. "I worked my ass off for it until I got good enough for the sport to accept me."

A few heads in the crowd nodded in acknowledgment at your words. It was hard to get into a rally team for everyone, not just women. But the reporter still wasn't satisfied with your response and he made that clear with his next affirmation.

"That doesn't answer my question," he shot back, obviously trying to get a reaction out of you.

Prove them wrong, echoed Tanaka's words in your head. Don't let them get to you. Keeping your composure level-headed without giving him the satisfaction to see your rage, you replied.

"Suruki Racing picked me out of the wider talent pool out there because I proved myself to be a capable rally driver."

"A capable rally driver doesn't put the car in a ditch mid-race," he argued, still not backing down.

This dude was looking for a bone to pick with the wrong dog.

"No," you countered. "A capable rally driver gets third place first time on the job and overcomes challenges rather than giving into them like most of your very talented idols must be doing."

He threw his head back, barking a laugh so irritating it got harder to keep calm and carry on being civil.

"That was just pure luck."

"Pure luck will not be my foot through-" your face, you wanted to say but stopped.

You leaned towards him a bit too menacingly, forgetting that everyone else was kinda there, watching it all unfold. Waiting for you to step wrong. He didn't deserve the mercy for that potty mouth of his. But this was too public to cause a scene. Straightening back, you coughed awkwardly.

"Through the gas pedal each race. I'm here to compete for Suruki Racing and I will do so until the team no longer wants me."

With that you shut him up and handed the mic back to your father who nodded at you in contentment.

"I think that was all for our Q&A session. Please enjoy the rest of tonight and good luck in tomorrow's stages!"

Finally off the stage, you went back to the bar and hogged a few more glasses of champagne. Thinking this was just the beginning and much worse awaited you was unnerving to say the least. You were downing your third glass when jet black hair appeared in your peripheral vision. Looking over you found a really amused Naozumi peering right back at you. He checked you out shamelessly, letting his dark eyes browse you from top to bottom.

Kate picked out a midnight blue satin dress for you, hugging your curves in all the right places, with a huge back drop exposing your behind. A semi-precious trail of shimmering stones fell down your back from where the straps were joined, all the way to your lower back where it connected with the rest of the dress. Your hair was pulled into a braided bun, little side pieces framing your face softly. You looked less like yourself and more like one of those models he hangs out with on the usual.

Letting your eyes do the same, you lingered on his own attire. He wore a navy suit tailored to his body a bit larger than his tight racing suit, giving him a broader form but still rounding around his bulky biceps with a strain. His hair was no longer a messy bird's nest from the helmet, fixed into a neat hairstyle. His dark strands sat so thick and orderly in small waves, it was hard to believe this was the same hair those heavy hands rove through like it was an Olympic sport.

The man could really look his million dollar smile when he wanted to.

"Didn't think you'd be here tonight," you mused, playing around with the champagne in your glass.

"I kinda have a thing for public humiliation," he beamed, giving you that smirk reserved for the masses of ladies waiting to fall at his feet.

Some of them already clocked him next to you, batting their mascara filled eye lashes at him in thirst for a piece of him. You wondered how it felt being one of them. So smitten and drawn to him like he wasn't the biggest red flag on earth.

"Oh well, I would say you came to the right place for that." You took a bigger sip from the glass, letting the dry bubbly liquid run down your throat. "But you do that after every race by yourself anyways, no offence."

"None taken," he replied, leaning on the bar to browse the bottles on the racks illuminated by led lights.

Surprised that he didn't argue on that observation like it was his nature to, at practically every single thing that annoyed him, you regarded him once more. He seemed oddly calm. Maybe way too calm. But then again, you met the guy like a handful of times. You didn't know him that well. Maybe he had his good and bad days and the ones on track were the bad kind.

He looked like a tough nut to crack. He definitely had more layers than the racing suit he wore. And if anything, Naozumi Hiyama was a puzzle you were better off leaving wrapped up on the shelf for now.

His deep voice cut through the animated chatter around you, grabbing your attention once more.

"That was really ballsy back there, rookie," he said with a wry smile.

He was talking about your near assault on that reporter that was looking for a tabloid story. He watched the exchange from the back of the hall with slight irritation himself. If that was him in your shoes, he would've punched the guy multiple times just to get all his questions out in a more productive way.

"One more word and I would've kicked his balls to Narnia."

A deep chuckle rumbled out of his throat at that. You knew what you signed up for coming into this world and he respected that. Some of the fuckers that have been here for longer didn't even have that decency.

He eyed the glasses of champagne next to you, stacked high in several pyramids. You moved to the side thinking he wanted one. He shook his head, asking the bartender for whiskey on the rocks instead. It suited him much better than champagne for some reason. Just like whiskey, there was this strong hit about him at first sight, so smooth and raw with his words, that blended into a surprisingly bittersweet aftertaste just like his smile. The ice crashing in the glass only added to that hard exterior he put up for the world.

You were curious if he was this icy with everyone. Was his interior just as arctic and brutal to someone who made the effort to get through to him or was Naozumi Hiyama an impenetrable iceberg that sunk all the ships of amicable intent? And now you were curious about the very devil you were warned to stay away from.

Get your bearings around, Rai. He's danger in far more ways than you can think of.

"Champagne is only for podium," he piped up.

"Ah, not you too," you rolled your eyes.

Was it a men thing that you weren't aware of? Why did you have to celebrate something huge to pop open a bottle of champagne?

Last time I checked, whiskey was more expensive than champagne.

"Tradition is tradition," he simply shrugged.

"Is it bad luck or something?" you leaned over with interest, trying to gauge out the meaning of this weird tradition. Or rather the meaning it held for him.

He lifted up his raven eyes from the drink, glass steaming at the contact with his warm hand. Pointing them with measured grip on your own, the corner of his lip tilted up in experienced manner. Like he's seen the worst of it if he gave in to the will of Dionysus with so much as a small sip of champagne before the big day. You didn't take him for a superstitious person until now. But that look told you he was its victim many times. Who would've thought that Naozumi believes in karma.

"Don't jinx what you don't know," he stated, like a silent mantra he recited to himself all the time.

To beware the unknown and leave it to fate. Control what you know, not what you don't. Just like your pre-race ritual.

Maybe you were more alike than you thought. Not temper wise. He won that part fair and square with the outbursts he had after nearly every race. But in other parts of common ground. You wondered what else was silently shared between you.

Before you could peer more into the wild force of nature beside you, you were joined by another one, much more brighter and cheerful than the storm at your left, but still as deadly as a tornado behind the wheel.

"There you were," interjected a soft voice from your right.

Akira joined in the conversation, briefly regarding Naozumi with a smug grin. You gave Akira a small smile, turning back to find that Naozumi made himself scarce with his glass of whiskey by the time you looked from one to the other. He had this weird habit of waltzing in and lighting up all your curiosities then leaving just when you were about to satisfy them. Browsing the crowd for him, you found no trace of him.

"Here I am," you replied back, brushing off the meek interaction with the other man. "Were you looking for me?"

The music slowed to a slow melodious tune that stabbed your ears painfully. Curse your father for his very bland taste in music. You'd expect more from someone with a golden earring that blasts Metallica every morning as his alarm. He wanted to look good to the world but this was actually how he killed all excitement. Not that this event even had excitement in the first place. Unless you counted your stage debut for an entertainment moment.

A few couples in the crowd took to the dance floor, swaying lightly on their feet. Team principals with their wives, mechanics with their spouses, a few drivers and their model girlfriends too. They drew each other close, dancing on the tempo of a slow mellow waltz. You never understood what it was about slow music that was so alluring to people and drew them together to hold each other so close. For one moment where they danced like their souls connected, they forgot everything about their problems and the reality of the life we were all living. Not running at full speed. Simply just being.

"I have been looking for you," said Akira, rather excited about something.

He offered his hand to you in the most gentlemanly way someone of the opposite gender ever did towards you. The kind of gentleman you see in those princess movies, where the girl gets whisked away by the nicest guy, golden carriages and diamond tiaras included. You swore you could see his eyes sparkle like stars lost in the resolute distance of the night sky. Or it was just the drunken haze of the champagne talking.

"Would you care for a dance?"

He asked so softly with that dizzying smile of his that it made your knees weak.

Dancing with the Akira Shinkai? A hallucination surely.

There was no way this prince charming came out of nowhere and asked you, a nobody yet, to dance. That and the fact that you weren't even supposed to be talking to him, considering everything Tanaka told you. Plus the previous heated interaction between your team leaders. A heavy mix of feelings that kinda weren't yours, but your father's.

"Okay," you yelped.

Okay? Rai Suruki. Akira Shinkai of Sigma Racing asks you if you care for a dance and you say okay?

He led you to the edge of the dance floor, placing his hands around your waist to pull you closer. You weren't sure what to do with your own, setting them against his chest for now. He swayed you side to side to the slow music. You focused on his deep brown eyes, getting sucked into their void with each sway. They were so big and round.

Conversation, Rai. Make some conversation.

"Thank you for the sandwich earlier today."

Great. 'Cause talking about sandwiches is conversation.

"No problem. I saw it got you a few places up the board."

"But it brought you down a few," you looked up at him, feeling a little responsible for that.

On the crescendo of a soft violin aria, he spun you out, bringing you back in closer than before. Your hands weren't pressed to his chest anymore, but circled around his shoulders to keep your balance. Your faces were so close that your breaths were nearly brushing off each other's lips. When did he get so close?

His lips parted catching the attention of your eyes instantly. Those were some delicious rosy lips if you've seen any. Get a grip Rai. Mentally scolding yourself for the inadequate direction your thoughts were going in, you focused back on his eyes. Though even that was a mistake.

"If anything, it wasn't half a sandwich that made me lose places," he chuckled, eyes crinkling into crescent shapes. "This tour is so complicated. I hate it with a passion."

"That I can agree with," you giggled.

The song changed to a really sad tune, slightly upbeat violin changed for the sorrowful piano in the back, drowning out every bit of energy you had left for the day just like that. That's it. If this continued any longer, you'd fall asleep standing.

"Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Heading for the dj booth on top of the stage, you climbed up the steps careful not to trip in your heels and cause yet another scene. You walked behind the dj and nudged his shoulder. He put down his headphones wondering what it was you wanted.

"For the love of god, please change the playlist," you asked, prying your hands together.

He looked at you briefly, thinking he'd get away with just a song request from you. Too bad he just met the one person in this room who didn't mess around when it came to music.

"This is what Mr. Suruki said to play," he spoke over the track, moving to put his headphones back up when you nudged him again. You weren't leaving until he changed the disk. Even if it involved violence.

"The crowd is dying out there," you motioned to the public that was genuinely exhausted and bored out of their mind. "Here," you fished out your phone and connected it to his laptop before he could complain about you hogging his deck, pulling up a file on his laptop and downloading it. "Play this mix."

"Won't that get me in trouble?"

"I'll make sure he pays double."

That seemed to convince him. He gave the mix a quick listen through his headphones, eyes widening at the music choice. Even his face brightened as he gave you a thumbs up.

You walked off the stage going back to join the small crowd. A few moments passed and the sorrowful instrumentals faded into energetic electronic dance beats. People sitting around the tables moved back on the dance floor, this time getting into it better than soft waltz music could make them dance. The lights dimmed to a steep blue, letting a light show peak through. You successfully turned the event hall in a club.

You got back to Akira, a knowing smirk on his face.

"You are full of surprises, Rai Suruki," he grinned.

You bopped your head to the beat, moving your hips in sync with the music, feeling awakened rather than half-asleep. The alcohol finally pumped through your body along with the deep bass, sending the blood in your veins running like waves on an open sea. Your hands latched back on Akira's making him move with you in languid moves.

"Just wait till you get to know me better," you yelled over the music.

He snorted at you with a shake of his head, that turned into a full laugh carrying over the music. You made Akira snort. Double points in the charisma book. He whirled you around, back crashing into his chest. A confident hand sneaked around you to pull you closer by your waist, now moving hip to hip to the song. His lips brushed to your ear without warning.

"This dj is so good," he whispered, sending chills down your spine.

The whole mood shifted around you with the next song, so full of life and energized. Some people in the crowd yelled the lyrics, throwing their hands in the air. He seemed to enjoy himself too as the man on the deck pumped up the speakers even louder, letting the mix boom out and rouse the spirits.

You simply nodded with a small smile. The dj was good for sure. That and the fact that he was kinda dancing with her.

Showered once more, to get rid of all the makeup, and in the comfort of your loose nightwear, you finally dove head first into the bed like a submarine submerging in the depths of the mattress, snuggling your head into the silky pillows on the bed. Your silky soft pillows that you packed everywhere you went. Who trusts those hard hotel deadlifts under their head? Not what you wanted to lay on after being pushed around in a sports two-seater the size of a space capsule.

Getting comfy under the covers, you let out a sigh of content at the warmth enveloping your body in each and every neatly tucked in corner under you. You closed your eyes, willing mother sleep to take you into her loving arms and lull you into deep, restful slumber.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day with the last round of the Tokai track and you could use better points after today's performance. Going for podium wasn't even in the cards yet. The car had better days ahead of it. You had to keep from pushing it more than necessary. But the points could help you catch up.

The lights dimmed down in the room, the jungle outside the hotel ceased riveting and it was just peace and quiet. Perfect, serene and silent.

You were barely hanging on the last brink of consciousness when something rattled against the wall behind your head. Your eyes flew open checking around the room and the headboard to be met by the quiet pitch black again. The headboard was still where it should be, no sign of anything that could move it. Shrugging it off, you crashed back into your pillows and tried to go back to sleep.

Until you heard that sound again. And again. The third time, it was accompanied by an awfully female voice struggling to moan. What the fuck? It grew quiet again, then all of a sudden you could hear her loud and clear, pushing that really annoying mewl out of her throat in sync with the banging in the wall. Pulling your other pillow over your ears, you tried drowning the lewd sounds out but it only proved futile as the minutes on the nightstand clock passed and she was still struggling to commit to one fucking tone to come to.

For the ever-loving shit of sleep.

Throwing away the covers, you left the amazing comfort of the bed and wore your slippers. You flung the door open, marching down the corridor to the room next door. The moaning was even louder out here, bouncing off the walls like it was played from speakers. You stopped in front of the door, banging on it with bubbling annoyance at being denied sleep due to someone prioritizing their funky time more than the peace of other people under the same roof.

All sounds stopped upon your angry knocks. Crossing your arms over your chest, you blew out a breath waiting for the resident of the room to open the door. Then it dawned on you that you weren't sure just what you were going to tell them and how they were going to react.

Would they make it a big deal that you cockblocked their big night? Hopefully not. What if they deck you in the wall for interrupting? You looked behind at the hard wall decorated with a lamp and gulped. I have martial arts training.

You tapped your foot anxiously thinking of an amicable solution when the door finally pried open revealing an almost naked Naozumi, wearing only a pair of black briefs that sat way too tight around his jewels for your liking. You choked on air. Dear lord. Your jaw dropped somewhere to the first of lava at the center of the earth as you took him in.

His neatly arranged jet black hair was now a thick mess straying in all sides from possibly being grabbed at with womanly strength. Only a woman hungry enough for a taste of him would do that kind of mess. Something stirred deep down inside of you at the sight. You didn't like it one bit.

Your eyes trailed down his exposed torso taking in every ridge of muscle from his toned pumped up pecs, the carved squares of his abs that might as well be the best washboard you've ever seen, to his veiny biceps curling around his middle before you could take a peak at what lay beneath his belly button as he leaned on the door frame.

Heat crawled up your neck the longer you stared at him unable to tear your eyes away. By god was he handsome. And hot. Hotter than hell could ever burn.

He watched your shameless perusal, making sure to catch the pink tint spreading across your cheeks and the way your tongue swiped over your bottom lip in thinking, things at which he chuckled lowly. Openly checking him out like this was unlike you and he was curious just how far you'd take it if he just let you. Testing it out, he unraveled a hand away, watching your eyes instantly latch on his lower abs like a cat jumping after a laser. He shifted on his legs, causing the muscles on his waist to bend on one side and stretch on the other. He was so broad and big, it overwhelmed you.

You knew he was packed just from sneaking glances at those white fireproofs, catching them strain underneath with each move of his body, but this was next level. You looked at the power nestled between his meaty thighs and swallowed a thick gulp of air, reeling back up his body. Sweat glistened on the trunk of his neck under the flickering light of the corridor - a clear product of what he was up to before you interrupted.

The sound of a door opening and closing down the hall brought you out of your daze like a truck hit you at full speed, then rammed over you again backwards.

You were in the hallway of the rally teams hotel, looking at a very naked and sweaty Naozumi. You cockblocked Naozumi Hiyama of all people. The playboy extraordinaire. You'd be lucky if you got out of this unscathed. Or with your braincells intact because the longer you stared at his abs or the dip in the crook of his neck you lost a huge amount of them.

"Can I help you?" he asked, irritating smirk that's been slowly getting under your skin bright as day on his face.

"Yes," your voice came out on a broken pitch. You cleared your throat trying again more sure of yourself. "Yes you can."

You struggled to look away. It was physically impossible to when he looked like one of those ivory sculptures of naked Greek gods you see in museums. Though he wasn't fully naked like them. Okay, let's lose the word 'naked'.

Your train of thought got stopped by his smooth voice, slightly tinted with amusement.

"What is it I can help you with?"

That seemed to oil your brain back to work.

"Can you stop moaning so loud? Some of us are trying to get some sleep," you looked him dead in the eye.

"That wasn't me," he said, moving to the side slightly.

You got a view of his own hotel bed, pillows and clothes scattered across the floor in heaps, graced by a woman on top of it tangled in nothing but a white sheet. She softly waved at you. Before you knew it, you waved back with a nervous smile, too entranced by her beauty. Her long platinum blonde hair cascaded down her collar bones, complimenting her tender milky skin and petite form so well. Adding her bright smile to it, you could swear you just saw an angel from heaven. She is way out of his league.

"Are those Lightning McQueen pajamas?" asked Naozumi rather confused, pointing to your nightwear.

Your nightwear had the face of the popular Cars character in the middle of your long sleeve top. The pants had several miniature versions of it, checkered flags and the iconic golden Piston Cup, all over them on red background. A Christmas present from Tanaka you adored. Well, not anymore, considering you currently looked like a toddler sitting before two bare deities.

Your hands shot out to try and cover most of it but it was no use. He already saw it all, including your Mater slippers sized to scale, hugging your ankles better than any pair of boots could, and he was simply just smiling at you. There was a curiosity about you in his eyes. The same one you had about him.

You cleared your throat, embarrassed in a dozen different ways, looking forward to hitting the bed and sleeping.

"Just fuck quietly or something."

The woman behind him called his name softly. He turned back around to the beautiful angel waiting for him. Even her voice was angelic. Seriously, what was she doing with this excuse of a man? By the earlier sounds of it and the sight before you now, he clearly was the one who struggled to satisfy her.

"What did she say?" she asked.

He rolled back to your form in the hallway and just smirked at you, uttering the next words like they weren't dripping with the most sinful implications.

"She said you weren't loud enough."

A scarlet red hot tomato package on a ketchup bottle. That was how furiously you were blushing right now. Those words weren't even directed at you but at the woman behind him. Though you couldn't help the flurry they started in your belly since he looked at you so intensely when he said them.

"Really? Why doesn't she join us?" she asked excitedly sitting up on the bed.

His smirk turned into a full toothy grin at that remark.

"Right? Why don't you join us?"

I'm out of here.

Not staying longer for the incoming teasing attack at your already crumbling sanity, you started making your way back to your room in shame, his laugh booming behind you. You threw him the middle finger this time only making him laugh harder.

Please choke on her pussy and die.

You closed the door and sped-walked to the bed, getting back under the covers, sighing at the warmth still preserved under the big heavy duvet. Since it was quiet again, you thought it all stopped. Until the previous strangled moans turned louder and louder and the rattle in the wall turned into a full rhythmic bang, fully shaking your own bed with you in it.

I'm going to fucking kill him.

🏎️ Glossary of terms and other useful information 🏎️

Stages - A rally consists of several stages over the course of three days, usually at the end of the week. These are series of timed races where the drivers take on different portions of track in the selected area of the race region. There can be 2-4 stages in a day, stretching over 20-50 kilometers.

DNF - Did Not Finish. When a car does not finish the race due to falling off the track. You either hit the gravel, spin out with understeer, or hit a road hazard. Basically anything that can get you out of the time frame of completing the track stage.

Pace notes - Taken by driver and co-driver on a ride along the course pre-race stage (also called a recce for reconnaissance). They point out road hazards and corners that the driver isn't able to see during the fast race. Example: 5 left over crest - hill portion approaching.

Oversteer - Happens when there's too much power applied than the tyres can take, making the car slip and push in the other direction of the turn. Balance is important here.

Understeer - Happens when the car turns less than you want it to in a corner. For example, you force the steering wheel to the left too briskly and the car doesn't turn entirely. The tyres screech and lose grip.

Overdrive is based around the fictional Asian SEIKO Cup Rally Series, mostly focused on Japan. Tour de Tokai is the 3rd round out of 13 rounds in the calendar, taking place right at the beginning of the movie. The champion of the series is determined by the total number of points accumulated at the end of the series, advancing to the World Rally Championship!

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