#i will come back to this... maybe.... hopefully

[lackadaisycats]

Hi Tracy, I want to apologize for what I said yesterday, about the boredom. My words were badly used and I did not mean to hurt you or anyone reading the post. I'm sorry.

It's alright. No need to apologize, but thank you in any case. After the fact, I realized I might have misinterpreted what you were saying to some extent. I apologize back if I did. What I said about finding other things to keep you interested, expanding your interests, and putting energy into making your own things still stands, though.

This might be tangential or off-base, but I know "hyperfixation" is how a lot of people (in casual, not diagnostic terms) describe their relationship to fandom, and it sort of makes it seem like a given fandom should be expected to occupy that much space in your life, or like it should become your veritable identity. But I don't think that's a healthy way to approach fandom. It's okay to be really interested and inspired by something, or to be briefly fixated on it. It's also okay to get sort of bored with it and move on after time. You can love something at a distance. You can come back later...or maybe you'll grow out of it and become more interested in other things. Hopefully lots of other things! That's part of growing up or growing as a person. I think it's healthy to maintain multiple interests and to make friends in varied spaces. Get inspired by lots of stuff! The more the better. Define yourself for yourself, not entirely by which fandom space you're in at any given time. You are more than what fandom you're in.

[pitchsidestories]

What do you fancy love ? II (Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader)

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 1495

summary: Reader is just a girl who is sometimes insecure, but her girlfriends remind her how important she is to them. requested

author's note: Hi everyone, thank you anon for the request, and hopefully you and the other readers will like this little fanfic.🩷🩷

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality. Slightly smutty ending.

You studied the photo on your phone closely. Tilting the device back and forth to avoid the glare on the screen and to find evidence of what you had told yourself over and over again in the past few days. It was Alexias’s post and naturally she looked stunning on it, smiling into the camera. Jenni was captured in side profile as she was turning towards you. She looked as cool as she always did. You were sandwiched between those two gorgeous women and the longer you stared at the photo, the less you felt like you fit in.

You couldn’t resist, your thumb instinctively clicked at the little speech bubble and the comment section opened. You already knew what was about to come.

Y/n just posted .. (let's pretend reader is Teresa in this picture)

User69: Are all three of them a thing?!

userloveswoso: no way. I mean Alexia and Jenni make sense but…

xXUserXx: yeah, they’re hot together but y/n kinda ruins it. Not sure what they want with her

You felt your stomach drop and your throat tighten immediately. While you continued to scroll through the comments, Alexias’s voice echoed through your shared flat: “Amor, where are you?”

The playful sing-song in felt completely out of place.

You cleared your throat and called: “In the bedroom!”

Instead of Alexia, Jenni shouted from the hallway: “Oh, I’m coming.”

You usually would have smiled about her eagerness to get into bed but right now, your eyes were still glued to that small screen in front of you.

Alexia groaned and scolded your girlfriend: “Jennifer, you can’t possibly always think of that one thing when you hear someone say the word bedroom.”

“What can I say? I was conditioned like a Pavlovian dog.”, Jenni laughed.

You felt their presence before you actually saw them standing in the doorway.

“Hi, did you get everything at the supermarket?”, you asked, forcing your voice to sound as casual as possible without looking up at them.

From the corner of your eye, you caught your girlfriends exchanging a glance.

“So, we’re not doing it?”, Jenni asked jokingly.

“Doing what?” You finally looked up at them and upon seeing Jennis’s smirk, you added: “Oh, you’re sure you don’t want to do it without me?”

Alexia frowned at you, her eyebrows knotting together in concern: “Okay, something is wrong. Tell us what’s going through your pretty head.”

“Pretty? Me?”, you repeated as she sat down on the bed next to you.

“Of course, you, you idiot.”, Jenni grinned from where she was leaning against the wall.

In contrast to hers, Alexias’s face was serious: “You act like we never say that to you.”

“The people seem to disagree.”, you said plainly and handed her your phone with a heavy heart. Jenni came over, leaning over Alexias’s shoulder as they both read through the comments.

The midfielder shook her head in disbelief. She was hurting for you as she saw what random people, complete strangers had to say about you and your relationship with them.:” Why would they say that?”

“Maybe they’re right.”, you whispered.

With a fierce passion Jenni disagreed:” No, those hiding behind their screens are wrong.”

Alexia said your name softly.

You almost couldn’t bring yourself to look in her beautiful hazel eyes. “Hm?”

“Don’t listen to them.”, she gently replied.

In your mind's eye, the hateful comments from the internet jumped out at you, and you quietly admitted: “It’s not that easy.”

“You can’t possibly believe that shit.”, the striker waved her hands in outrage.

In a tone that did not tolerate any protest, Alexia commanded: “Put the phone away for the night.”

“But..”, you started.

The blonde was quick to interrupt you:” You heard me.”

“Yes, relax, babe.”, Jenni tried to calm you down.

However, your thoughts left you no peace: “I don’t want to relax.” You could feel the panic rising in you as you spoke.

“You should though.”, Alexia responded.

Despite the worried look on your girlfriend’s faces, you observed:” No one says those things about any of you.”

“That’s not true, but besides who cares what they think?”, the raven-haired woman countered.

“I care, Jenni!”, you cried out.

It was in this moment that your lovers realized that you were in your early twenties, your career was on the rise, you still needed to learn how to deal with all of that outside pressure which came with being a public person.

The midfielder hated to see you so sad: “Calm down.”

To her great surprise, you got out of bed and announced: ”I’ll go for a walk.”

“Do you want us to join you or..?”, Alexia asked, sounding cautious.

Purposefully, you put on your shoes. You didn't have to think long about your answer to her question: ”No.”

As soon as you were on your way out, the door was just closing, the blonde let herself fall onto the bed with a tired sigh.

“Jenni, what do we do with her?”, her eyes wandered expectantly to her girlfriend who lay next to her.

Without giving it much thought, the older of the two suggested: “We have to show her that we know better than the stupid comments.”

“How?”

A dirty smile appeared on Jennis lips: “Well.”

“What if she’s not in the mood?”, Alexia objected.

The dark-haired woman began to stare at the ceiling, confessing with a wry smile: “Then I’m out of ideas.”

“Okay, we’ll try that.”, the midfielder decided.

A surprised laugh escaped Jenni's mouth: “Really?”

“Yes.”, she confirmed in a matter-of-factly tone.

It was early evening and there was a light breeze coming in from the sea that ran through your hair. The sunset was reflected in the water, which you could see from afar.

At the beginning of your walk, the anxiety weighed heavily on your young shoulders, but now that you were almost home again, you felt the weight lighten. The peace and beauty of the moment outweighed and calmed your inner turmoil.

“I’m back.”, you told your girlfriends once you stepped inside your shared appartement.

Again, it was Alexias voice floating over to you: “Come into the bedroom.”

“Uhm, okay.“, you said before you slipped out of your shoes and took a deep breath. You really didn’t feel like talking to your girlfriends again.

“Don’t let us wait.”, Jenni called too when you took too long to follow Alexias instruction.

You reluctantly did as you were told.

The bedroom looked a little different since you left it. There were candles burning everywhere and rose petals on bed. You had no idea from where they had appeared from. But most importantly, both of your girlfriends stood there in matching lingerie.

They looked incredibly hot but the sight of them like that was so surprising that it almost made you giggle: “Oh my god.”

Alexia reached out to you, gesturing to come closer: “Come here…”

“Seriously?”, you asked with a smile, still unsure if your eyes didn’t betray you.

Alexia nodded: “Yes, you know that I’m a serious person.”

“Hard to tell when you’re standing there in your underwear.”, you laughed.

Jenni, seemingly getting more and more impatient, walked over you with that typical mischievous smirk on her lips.

“Yes, and you, pretty girl, are still wearing way too many clothes.”, she grinned, her face close to yours. Skilfully, she slid her fingers under your sweater and started to lift fabric up.

“Excuse me? I didn’t say take them off.”, you protested jokingly.

Shrugging, Jenni pulled the shirt over your head: “No but I did.”

She immediately moved farther down, opening the button of your jeans.

Laughing, you pushed her away: “Stop.”

Alexia took Jennis spot right in front of you. Her thumb grazed over your cheek while she tenderly kissed your lips.

“Baby girl, do you still want us to stop?”

You blinked at her, your brain incapable of cooperating: “Uhm…”

None of your girlfriends moved until you gave them permission to keep going.

But you couldn’t resist, the desire was too strong.

You shook your head: “No.”

The smile Alexia and Jenni shared almost washed away the memory of these nasty comments again. They seemed genuinely happy that they were allowed to take care of you. You only realised that now. It wasn’t just about what you or anyone else thought. It was about what your girlfriends wanted. And they clearly wanted you.

Before you knew it, you laid on the bed in nothing but your underwear. Jennis fingers and Alexias lips were everywhere on your body. You loved it when they did that. It was almost like their playing styles on the pitch, complimenting and enhancing each other’s skills. There was no room for your own thoughts anymore. You were so absorbed in the action that you didn’t notice your phone sliding off the nightstand and landing under the bed. And if you had, you wouldn’t have cared. Their opinions were theirs, but your girlfriends made pretty clear that you belonged to them. That you were loved and desirable.

[bandsofmarv]

I would like to make a request where Reader and Bucky just met. Reader visits Bucky in the compound and sees Bucky with Nat and is sad because she thinks there is something going on between them or Bucky is in love with Nat and withdraws. Bucky misses her and shows her that she's the only one he's interested in?

Hey guys! I’m back :)

Love this idea! Hopefully you like :)

Favourite widow

The first time you met Bucky Barnes, something clicked into place—like a puzzle piece you didn’t know you were missing. He had been charming in that quiet, brooding way, his smirks rare but worth every moment they appeared. There was something unspoken between you both, lingering in stolen glances and casual touches that lasted just a second too long.

It wasn’t love, not yet. But it could be. Or so you thought.

Because now, sitting in the corner of the compound’s lounge, you watched as Bucky stood beside Natasha, laughing at something she said. His usual serious demeanor softened, eyes crinkling at the corners. Nat playfully nudged him, and he responded by leaning in, murmuring something only for her to hear. The sight made your stomach twist.

You should’ve known. Of course, he’d be into Natasha. She was beautiful, confident, and had history with him. And you? You were just… there.

So, you did what you always did when something hurt—you distanced yourself.

You stopped seeking Bucky out, stopped lingering near him in training, stopped waiting for those soft, lingering looks. You convinced yourself it didn’t matter, that whatever spark had been there was just a fluke, a fleeting moment you’d imagined.

Bucky noticed almost immediately.

At first, he thought he was overthinking it. But after days turned into weeks, after the way you pulled back from him completely, he knew something was wrong.

So now here you were, alone in the kitchen late at night, stirring your tea absentmindedly when a deep voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“You avoiding me, doll?”

You nearly dropped your mug. Turning, you found Bucky leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. His brows were drawn together, lips pressed in that familiar frown you’d come to know.

You forced a casual shrug. “Been busy.”

“Bullshit,” he said bluntly, stepping closer. “You barely look at me anymore. Did I do something?”

The frustration in his voice made your throat tighten. “No, Bucky. You didn’t do anything.”

“Then what is it?” You hesitated, staring at your tea as if it held the answer. Maybe it was stupid, childish even, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I just didn’t want to get in the way,” you muttered.

Bucky’s brows furrowed. “In the way of what? You exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “Of you and Nat.”

“Me and Nat?” His lips parted in disbelief before he huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Doll, there’s nothing between me and Nat.”

You blinked. “But I saw you—”

“We’re just friends,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His voice softened. “She was giving me advice. About you.”

Your heart stuttered. “Me?”

He nodded, blue eyes never leaving yours. “I thought… I thought we had something, but you started pulling away, and I didn’t know why. I missed you.” His voice was quieter now, a little unsure. “Still do.”

Your breath hitched. “Bucky…”

He took another step forward, so close now you could see the flecks of silver in his stormy gaze. “Tell me I didn’t imagine it,” he murmured. “Tell me you felt it, too.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering against your ribs. “I did,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Bucky exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding. Then, without hesitation, he reached for you, fingers gently curling around your wrist. “Then let’s stop pretending,” he murmured.

And when his lips brushed against yours—soft and certain—it felt like something finally falling into place.

Just you and him.

[imagine-it-was-us]

where we land || Lando Norris

Inspiration: Ed Sheeran where we land

Author's note: These are getting out of hand. Started as the creative outlet and ended as sleepless nights where you can't go to bed until you let our mind bleed out on the keyboard. Ed Sheeran and his music will always have a special place in my heart. And this particular song makes me miss the relationship I never had. So enjoy, I am really proud of this one. Hopefully you will find it bearable.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Warnings: none, just angst.

Summary: do I love you? do I hate you? || I can't make up my mind || so let's free fall (and part ways for the year I guess??) and see where we land.

Word count: 6.8k+

“Lando, this isn’t working”, she sighed. It was obvious that this short sentence took every last bit of energy she had. After this, there was nothing left – no emotions, no desire to fight, just nothing. A blank expression followed.

He looked up from his computer, unphased. 

“What’s not working?” 

“Us.” 

The mood slightly shifted, yet nothing too shocking. It felt like this conversation was overdone way too many times. They have been here before. That's why he didn’t even take a second to think about what sparked this conversation. It felt like it was a casual chat between an old married couple. 

“Yeah,” Lando muttered, exhaling sharply. “Let’s take a break. We’ll make up anyway.”

That was it. No argument, no hesitation. Like it was routine. Like she had just told him she was stepping out for a moment, and he expected her to come back.

When you think about it, it was devastating. The level of indifference was what hurt the most.

They had known each other their whole lives – friends by proximity before choice. Their families lived in the same neighborhood, close enough that their bond felt inevitable. Even as kids, they were opposites. He was the reckless daredevil, climbing trees and riding his bike at full speed down the steepest roads, while she was the quiet dreamer, lying on the grass for hours, lost in her thoughts. But somehow, they worked. They always had.

As they grew up, their lives took different directions, but they never drifted too far. When Lando got into karting, and later, into the high-stakes world of racing, she wasn’t his biggest supporter in the traditional sense. She didn’t attend every event or cheer the loudest. But she cared. She always asked how he was feeling, if he was okay. She avoided getting too involved, not because she didn’t believe in him or was not interested, but because she couldn’t shake the fear of what could happen. The crashes, the risks, the reality of what came with high-speed racing. Maybe that fear had even shaped her, pushed her toward a career where she could save the ones who weren’t as lucky. And yet, no matter how different their paths became, they had always made time for each other.

Then came that one Christmas. The night everything changed. He was on the brink of signing with McLaren, and she had just over a year of school left, set on studying medicine, becoming a paramedic. They spent the whole evening talking – about dreams, about the future, about everything. And the one constant in all their scenarios? Each other. They didn’t officially get together until months later, when the butterflies finally settled in. What started as something gentle and fragile grew into something more. Something that should have been unbreakable.

But it wasn’t.

Between her relentless studying and his deep dive into the world of Formula 1, the distance between them grew. The small sacrifices they used to make for each other became harder. At first, they convinced themselves it was just a rough patch. They had fallen in love as teenagers, blindly, without knowing what love truly required. Clashes were inevitable, but they always told themselves it was just temporary. That love would always outweigh the tension.

Until it didn’t.

The fights became more than just stress-fueled bickering. Trust started to crack. The rumors, the online hate she received for simply existing in his world, the missed races, the missed plans, the days of unanswered calls. The moments of doubt that neither of them wanted to admit were growing stronger.

They had tried. God, they had tried.

The guilt would always swing between them like a pendulum – one of them messing up, the other one forgiving too easily, hoping that this time would be different. And when it wasn’t, they’d take a step back, hoping the distance would fix what being together couldn’t. Then, like clockwork, one of them would cave. One apology, one touch, one whispered „I miss you“ would pull them back in.

The boat had been rocking for years. But at least before, there had still been waves. Now, sitting in their Monaco home, she wasn’t sure if they had finally reached the calm, or if they had simply drifted so far apart that the water didn’t even touch them anymore.

And that was worse than all the fights combined.

“That’s it?”

He lifted a shoulder in an infuriating half-shrug. “What do you want me to say? We take a break, we come back. It’s what we do.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Lando. I don’t want to pause on this empty shell we still call the relationship. I just don’t think I can.” 

Deep down, words coming out of her hurt her. Yet she was just so tired of this game, then at the end there was no happy ending.

Lando exhaled, closing his laptop and putting it away, jaw clenched. Maybe he thought she was being dramatic. Maybe he was just waiting for the inevitable moment when she’d take it back.

But she wouldn’t, not this time. She just stood up from her end of the couch and exhaled. 

“It will take me a couple of days to gather everything I own from this apartment. I will do it once you leave for Las Vegas, so I won’t disturb your calm before the GP. I will just grab my essentials for now,” she said like she was reciting a groceries list. 

Lando didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, eyes fixed on the coffee table like it held all the answers he couldn’t find in her face. Maybe he was searching for something to say – some magic combination of words that would break the cycle, that would make this easier. But there was nothing left to say.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

She felt her stomach twist. Part of her had wanted him to fight – really fight – for this, for them. But wasn’t that the whole point? They were tired. Exhausted. Running on empty, pretending they had more to give when they didn’t.

She swallowed, shifting on her feet. “I think we should do it properly this time.”

His eyes flicked up to hers, guarded. “What do you mean?”

“No breaks. No texts, no calls, no checking in. Not even a happy birthday or Merry Christmas.” The words came out steady, even though her heart was hammering against her ribs. “We give it at least a year. If we’re happier – truly happier – then we’ll know. We’ll let it go for good.”

Lando stood up, facing her. “And if we’re not?”

She exhaled, forcing a small, tired smile. “Then we’ll see where we land.”

He let out a breath, running a hand down his face. For a moment, he just studied her, like he was trying to commit every detail to memory. Like maybe, deep down, some part of him was realizing that this was the last time he’d get to see her like this. Here. His.

Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Alright,” he murmured. “One year.”

One year to figure out if this was really love, or just a bad habit neither of them knew how to break. One year to see if they could be whole without each other. Or if, after everything, they still made sense together.

She was about to turn toward the bedroom, ready to start packing, but he moved first. His arms wound around her, and she didn’t hesitate before wrapping hers around him just as tightly.

And that was what made it hurt the most. Because after six years give or take, after all the fights and make-ups and everything in between, this was still the safest place each of them had ever known. His heartbeat against her ear. Her scent wrapping around him like home. The way neither of them wanted to be the first to let go.

But they had to. So, after one long, lingering moment, she forced herself to step back.

Lando’s arms fell away slowly, reluctantly, like he was holding onto the very last seconds of whatever this was.

And just like that, they let go. Not with a bang, not with a fight. Just a quiet understanding that, for the first time in years, it was time to stop holding on.

______

Remember the “No Merry Christmas” part? Well, that was their first slip up. 

At first, no one questioned it. 

When they said their goodbyes, when she packed up the last of her things, when they let go without a fight – no one questioned it. Not their friends. Not their families. Not the people who had known them as a unit for years.

Because this was just how they were. Messy. Cyclical. A little dramatic but never final. Everyone assumed that, in a few weeks, they’d find their way back – like they always did.

Yet red flags were being waved when she showed up on your parents doorstep and asked them to let you crash at theirs for the time being. 

And when the world around you was lighting up, getting ready for the most wonderful time of the year, she was really feeling dead inside. That was when the questions started.

As she had to find a new job outside Monaco, she landed in the local hospital, in her parents' area. Her new coworkers, who knew her family, would try the small talk, asking how he was doing as the season went to the end. Sometimes even her patients would recognize her and ask her about F1 and her used-to-be boyfriend. A friend, who you haven’t talked to for weeks, would bring an article and ask for you to comment on it. It was even from her own aunt – the one she only ever saw at Christmas– who asked, completely oblivious, “What size are Lando’s feet again? I want to knit him those socks I promised last year.”

And just like that, he was everywhere. Like an echo of a life she wasn’t living anymore. Like a mistake she wasn’t sure she had actually made.

Because wasn’t that what everyone kept implying? That they had been stupid for doing this? That this break – this “proper” break, this one-year promise – was just a long, drawn-out way of making them both miserable?

And if so—was Lando feeling it, too?

Was he being ambushed with casual mentions of her in conversations that had nothing to do with her? Did he hear her name in places he wasn’t expecting it? Did it catch him off guard, did it sting, did it make him wonder if they had just ruined something they were always meant to fix?

She stopped herself from wondering. After all, she could dwell in these thoughts forever and never move forward. She knew she had to. This break was not only about figuring them out. It was also about figuring who you are outside the relationship you grew up in. 

So for now, she did the thing she knew the best – threw herself into work. That’s why when Christmas Eve rolled around, she had her life line to escape hushed voices and petty looks, asking about her life. Also, Norris' family would always eventually roll around for a quick cup of tea – it was a tradition started by their parents even before the both of them were around so she for sure believed that them being on break would not stop their parents from interacting. Never did on any other break. 

She did what she always did when the walls started closing in. She grabbed her coat, threw a scarf over her scrubs, and braced herself for the short, freezing walk to her car. A twelve-hour shift awaited her, filled with last-minute holiday accidents and bad luck, and she was oddly grateful for it. A perfect excuse to be anywhere but here.

She said her goodbyes, wished everyone a Merry Christmas, and stepped outside.

And nearly crashed straight into Adam Norris. Her hand shot out to steady herself, boots skidding slightly against the icy porch. “Oh – I’m so sorry,” she blurted, barely catching her breath before –

Her stomach dropped.

Because it wasn’t just Adam. It was all of them.

His entire family stood there, wrapped in warm coats and holiday cheer. And Lando – of course, Lando – was in the middle of it all, hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze locked onto her like he hadn’t been expecting this either.

She barely let her eyes flick to his before looking away, heart hammering.

“You’re always in such a rush, aren’t you?” Cisca asked, her voice as warm as ever.

“Yes, I’m working tonight, unfortunately,” she added, making them hear what she wanted rather than expressing her feelings. 

“Oh, your mother told me about the shifts you’re taking and they still make you work during the day like this? That’s so sad,” she said, empathetically. His mother was always the angel and they had a great connection before this break. 

She gave a light shrug, desperate to keep the conversation surface-level. “What can I say? Gotta work if I ever want to give my parents a break.”

It was the lie she’d been telling everyone. That she was saving for a down payment. That the extra shifts were a means to an end. A practical excuse for why she spent more time at the hospital than at home, drowning herself in work instead of drowning in the what-ifs of a relationship that no longer existed.

But it didn’t matter. Not when she could feel Lando’s eyes on her. Not when it took every ounce of strength to keep her own from slipping back to his.

“Well,” Cisca sighed, stepping aside to give her space to pass. “Stay safe, darling.”

She hesitated. A half-second, barely noticeable. And then, before she could stop herself, the words slipped out.

“Merry Christmas, fam.”

The moment she said it, she regretted it. The slip. The weakness. The betrayal of her own rules.

And then there was Lando.

For the first time since she stepped outside, she met his gaze. A brief, fleeting glance. A quiet acknowledgment of everything that still lingered between them.

She barely made a sound when she whispered, “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

Then, before she could give herself time to second-guess it, she turned on her heel and walked away, pulling her coat tighter around herself.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She couldn’t. Because she knew if she did – if she heard his voice, his words – her carefully built defenses would crumble.

But as she made it to her car, something soft, something broken, floated through the cold December air.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

And somehow this moment stung Lando more than anything else ever had.

______

Spring was warming up the air, shaking winter from the trees and stretching daylight just a little longer each evening. She had always hated this time of year – hated the way it pressed against her chest, thick with stress and expectations. First, it was the exams, the all-nighters, the anxious flipping of textbooks. Then, later, it became Lando’s schedule. The season kicking off, his world spinning faster while she tried to hold onto the edges.

This year, though, spring was something different. Unusually dull. Unnaturally calm. But it was for her to figure out if it was the kind of calm that comes before or after the storm.

By all accounts, she was doing well. She was thriving at work, getting used to the rhythm of long shifts and fast decisions. She had found herself a new apartment – small, but cozy, a space that was hers and hers alone. She even picked up jogging and pilates, things she used to roll her eyes at but now clung to as some kind of personal victory.

Some days were perfect. She would wake up, stretch in the morning light, sip her coffee in silence, and almost – almost – forget why her life looked the way it did now.

Emphasis on ‘almost.’

Because when you spend six years wrapped around someone else’s life, untangling yourself doesn’t happen overnight. Their friend groups overlapped too much, their histories bled into too many places, and avoiding him completely was impossible.

They had been careful, though. Calculated. She planned around GP weekends, making sure to show up to gatherings when he was halfway across the world, and skipping the ones when she knew he’d be visiting the home town. It worked. Until, inevitably, it didn’t.

That night, she hadn’t planned to see him. It was supposed to be a quiet evening. Just a handful of friends, drinks, some music humming in the background. Nothing major. Nothing painful. But then, sometime between her second glass of wine and the last lazy notes of an old song drifting through the air, she felt it.

That awareness. The way her skin prickled before she even turned her head. He was there.

Just across the room, laughing at something, his head thrown back, the sound of it familiar enough to sink straight into her bones. He looked... good. Relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. And for a second she let herself wonder if she looked that way too. If he saw her and thought, ‘She’s okay. She’s moved on. She doesn’t miss me the way I miss her’.

It was unbearable. The way it made her stomach twist, the way it pulled something raw inside of her. It wasn’t just the sight of him, it wasn't just the proof that he still existed outside of her world – it was the realization that she still felt it. That she still felt everything.

So she left. Quietly. Without goodbyes. Without looking back.

By the time she got home, she was already peeling off her jacket, kicking off her shoes, slipping beneath the covers in the dark. Sleep would fix it. Sleep would dull the sharp edges, smooth over the crack in her chest.

Morning light bled through the thin curtains, painting soft streaks across the room. She stretched, rubbing at her puffy eyes, the lingering ache of last night still pressing heavy against her ribs.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he got to be fine. That he got to laugh and exist so easily in a world without her while she sat here, caught in the ghost of something that refused to fade.

Yet there was a surprise waiting for her when she picked up the phone.

A missed call at 3:48 am. And a voice note from him on her Instagram DMs followed.

Then, for just a second, something fluttered in her chest. A spark of something she didn’t want to name. Because maybe he had seen her last night. Maybe he had felt it too.

But reality was quick to sink its claws in, dragging her back down. No. This wasn’t that. This was probably drunk Lando. This was ‘bad decisions wrapped in nostalgia and gin’ Lando.

She should ignore it. But her thumb was already moving before her brain could stop her.

Click. Play.

“Heeeeeeeyyyy pretty girl.”

She sucked in a sharp breath.

He was drunk. The kind of drunk where words ran together, loose and careless.

“I’m so sorry for the call, I realized that you are probably working or worse – asleep – and just canceled it. Like I know that you would stab anyone who would dare to wake you up if it’s not important, and since I guess I no longer am, I—”

A hiccup. A pause.

Her stomach twisted. She should stop listening. But she didn’t.

“I just don’t know… Whenever I see you, you seem so fine, so moved on… And then there’s me, stuck between fake and being down. And you know what I do when I feel down? I go to the bar, the club. You name it. I scan a crowd looking for you. I never find you, because duh, why should I? You only went to these places for me.”

Her chest tightened. She had hated clubs with all her heart. The noise, the people, the way she never really fit into that world. She only went because he loved it. Because Lando loved the music, the energy, the thrill of it. And yet… after all this time, he was still looking for her in places she never truly belonged.

“So, I get the random girl and imagine it is you. I imagine you still care, laugh at my pick-up lines, take me home with you. I even moaned your name one time and the lady was pissed off, I got smacked, lol. Could you imagine…”

A sharp exhale left her lips.

God, he was an idiot. Saying things he had no business saying. Telling her things she shouldn’t know. She wanted to be mad. To roll her eyes, to call him out for being reckless, for dragging her back into the mess they were supposed to be untangling.

But she wasn’t mad. She was something else entirely. Because there, tangled between the words and the drunken confessions, was something she wasn’t ready to face. Regret. And worse – feelings that she thought was lost during all this. The kind that made the edges of her world blur for a moment, tilting just enough to make her wonder…

What if?

And then – 

“I should have fought for you, you know? When you asked for this break. I was an idiot for letting you walk out the door so easily. Screw the ‘let’s see where we land’ thing. I already know where I’m landing. Now the ball is in your corner or whatever. So yeah, good chat. See you around.”

Silence.

Her heart was pounding.

She stared at the screen, her mind racing.

This wasn’t just some drunk butt dial. This wasn’t some half-hearted message he would brush off in the morning.

This was a line drawn in the sand. This was him saying, ‘I know what I want. Do you?’

She swallowed, her hands shaking as she locked her phone and pressed it to her chest.

She needed to breathe. She needed to think.

But later that day, when she opened the chat to replay the message and dissect every word it was gone.

Not even a trace of it ever existing.

And just like that, she was left with nothing but the weight of what could have been.

__________

She didn’t want to be here.

That much had been clear from the second she stepped onto Silverstone’s pavement, a familiar hum in the air, the smell of petrol and rubber hitting her in a way that made her stomach twist.

It wasn’t just the track – it was everything it represented. The years spent here, the routines, the nerves. The way she used to pace behind the pit wall, hands shoved into the pockets of a McLaren hoodie that wasn’t even hers, chewing on her bottom lip as she watched Lando push the car to its limits.

It was muscle memory to be here, and yet, it had never felt more foreign.

She had almost backed out, too, with the kind of last-minute excuse that wouldn’t fool her mother but might have been enough to let her go on with her weekend and avoid the inevitable. But the tickets had been a Christmas gift – from the Norris family, as per usual – and her parents had been so excited.

“It’s been too long since we all did something like this together. You used to go with him all the time while we were watching from the sidelines. Now we can switch places, you will be fine” her dad had said. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

Fun. Right.

So she had caved. And when it was time to leave for Sunday GP, she still wanted to blend in the crowd. She knew there would be plenty of McLaren fans, so if you can’t beat them – join them. She took out a random t-shirt that was probably used way too many times. It was only after pulling it over her head that she realized which one it was.

His.

One he had left in her drawer ages ago, one she had slept in more nights than she could count.

It smelled like fabric softener instead of him now. That should have been a relief. It wasn’t. For a split second, she had almost taken it off. Almost buried it back in the drawer like it was some kind of cursed relic. But then she exhaled. It’s just a shirt. No one will even notice.

And at first she was perfectly flying over the radar. Her parents visited the paddock, while she stayed behind, blending in the crowds. She had perfected the art of blending in – cheering when appropriate, clapping at the right moments, never once letting her gaze wander too long in the direction of the papaya garage. And it was working wonders. 

But then she ran into Emma. The fellow paramedic, who she had known both from the medical, and sports field, as she was a couple years older and worked with Papaya for a few years. One second, she was keeping her head down, avoiding anything orange, and the next, she was being pulled into McLaren hospitality because “It’s dead quiet before the race, and you have a paddock pass, so why not?”

She should have said no. Instead, she sat with Emma, catching up over bad coffee, pretending she wasn’t hyperaware of exactly where she was. Yet every time footsteps neared, her body tensed, anticipation coiling in her stomach like a reflex she hadn’t quite unlearned. It wasn’t that she couldn’t see him – it had happened before, and they had managed to be civil, distant in a way that felt almost rehearsed. But being here, surrounded by everything that made Lando Lando, made her feel too exposed.

Don’t get it wrong – she would always be a fan. Even if life took them further apart, even if one day they became nothing more than a distant memory, she would still admire him. The raw talent, the skill, the way he could take a car and make it his – that would never change. 

But it had been eight months, and for the first time, she was starting to find a rhythm outside of them. A clarity she hadn’t thought possible. And yet. Eight months, and still, his drunken voice note rattled in her head like an echo trapped between her ribs. Eight months, and the thought of seeing him in his element – seeing him – made her stomach twist in ways she couldn’t quite decipher. Would it set her back? Or would it confirm that she was finally past it?

Five minutes into chatting, laughing like she wasn’t standing in the center of everything she had left behind, Oscar Piastri appeared, cradling his arm like it was more of an annoyance than an injury. It was impossible for her not to know or like Oscar – they would always lightly catch up and laugh whenever she visited a paddock. And she sure as hell knew that he was aware what was the reason behind her being absent recently. 

“Hey, do me a favor,” he said, surprised to see her in the paddock, but not making a big deal out of it. “Tell me I’m being dramatic.”

She raised a brow. “You’re being dramatic.”

Oscar grinned. “That’s what I needed.”

They fell into easy conversation – nothing deep, just lighthearted jabs about how McLaren clearly needed her back on call, and how she had ditched them for something far less entertaining.

And then, as she was mid-sentence, Oscar’s eyes flicked to her shirt.

Her stomach dropped. She glanced down, realizing how obvious it was now, when she dropped her jacket off. The faded Lando Norris on the back. The small details only a real fan – or someone owning a similar t-shirt – would notice, proved this shirt wasn’t just merch, but his.

“That is not just any McLaren shirt.”

Her face went hot. “Oscar –”

“You’re both so full of shit,” he cut in, laughing.

Before she could protest, before she could even think, he was pulling out his phone.

“Oscar,” she warned.

“Relax,” he said, snapping the picture. “I’ll make it tasteful.”

So when later that day, after the GP was done and gone, her phone buzzed, she wasn’t surprised to see that Oscar had tagged her in a story, meant for a close friend's circle. At least he had decency not to post it publicly, sparing her from the speculation of people online.

A casual shot – Oscar grinning, arm still wrapped in tape, her beside him, mid-laugh. The caption?

“I’m here catching up with a friend, being all nice and all, and she’s still in his corner.”

She rolled her eyes and locked her phone, pretending she saw nothing. Lando rarely if ever checked other driver’s stories, so she thought that maybe she was safe. 

What she didn’t know, that Lando was also tagged in it. 

It was late by the time the high of his first home win finally started to wear off. It should have lasted longer. It should have been everything. And for a while, it was. The roar of the British crowd, the Union Jack wrapped around his shoulders, the feeling of standing on the top step at Silverstone – his Silverstone. It was a dream he’d had since he was a kid, a moment that was meant to feel like an ending and a beginning all at once.

But the thing about dreams is that you never picture them alone. And she wasn’t there. Not where she should have been, anyway.

He’d looked for her. Not consciously, not obviously, but when he turned toward the grandstands where his family sat – where she used to sit – his eyes found nothing but an empty space. And it was stupid to expect anything different. They weren’t that anymore. They weren’t anything, really.

But for the first time since she walked out, he let himself admit it. It still felt wrong doing this without her.

Later, exhausted but unwilling to sleep, he opened his phone, torn between drowning in nostalgia or holding onto the adrenaline of the win. He chose the latter. Scrolled through the tags, looking for a story to share. When he saw the notification from Oscar, he barely thought twice. Probably some congratulatory post, maybe something teasing him for taking so long to win here.

But when he clicked it, the world narrowed to a pinpoint.

Because there she was.

Not in the stands. Not in his family's section. But she had been there. And she was wearing his shirt. An old one, something he barely even remembered giving her, but she still had it. Still wore it.

His stomach tightened. She hadn’t wanted to see him. Hadn’t let him see her. But maybe he wasn’t the only one still looking for pieces of the past.

And maybe she wasn’t quite ready to let them go either.

______

There were still three days left until their one-year mark. Not that she was counting. 

362 days had passed. 362 days of learning how to be her own person again. And, honestly? She wasn’t half bad at it. 

She had figured out how to be alone without feeling lonely. She’d chased things she never made time for before, threw herself into work, into new routines, into a version of herself that wasn’t just an extension of him. And she liked who she was becoming – someone stronger, more driven, more sure of herself.

But did she still feel a pit in her stomach every time she thought about the fact that he wasn’t there to see it? Absolutely.

And maybe that was why she had convinced herself she just had to make it to a year. A clean number. One final milestone to tell her that they had really done it – walked away, stayed away and allowed them both to breath.

But then came the invitation. Max, persistently begging her to come. It’s his birthday, he’d want you there. And also, it was hard to lie to herself that three days would make her change her mind. 

Before she knew it, she was standing in the middle of the chaos, clutching a drink she didn’t want, in a room that felt too damn small. The music was loud, the air thick with laughter and voices overlapping in that familiar, comfortable way. She had spent years in rooms like this, at parties just like this, orbiting the same people, the same circles. But tonight, she felt like a stranger.

And then she saw him. Across the room, back turned, laughing at something Max had said. Easy. Effortless. Like nothing had changed.

The last time she saw him, Lando was leaving Silverstone with his name echoing through the crowd. A winner. A hero. And she had watched from the screen of her phone, watching him have everything he ever wanted. 

That realization made her stop in her tracks.

Because here he was, months later, standing in the center of a world that kept spinning without her. With only three GPs left, he was still a contender for the whole damn championship. He had managed to dodge all major drama, kept his head down, thrived. And now, surrounded by friends, by people who cared for him, cherished him, celebrated him – he looked free.

Happy.

And just like that, the thought hit her like a punch to the ribs. Maybe this should be it. Maybe this night should be her closure. Because if this past year had proven anything, it was that he didn’t need her. And as much as it twisted something deep inside her, maybe she was okay with that.

Maybe she could give up the what if in exchange for the freedom she had convinced herself he deserved. Even if her heart didn’t waver. Even if she was still his in ways she wished she wasn’t.

She turned on her heel, ready to leave this place. She knew that he was aware that she was here. So the checkmark ticked for their friends – she was here, she had cheered for him. Now it was time to leave all this behind them. Just as she was about to put the empty glass on the table by the door, she heard a familiar voice:

“Leaving so soon?”

His voice cut through the noise like a blade. She could barely hear it, but somehow, it still sent a shiver down her spine.

She didn’t turn back, not right away. She let out a breath, eyes shutting for half a second, before finally facing him.

“I was just –” She cleared her throat, finding it suddenly dry. “I was just stepping out.”

Something flickered in his eyes. He didn’t call her bullshit. Didn’t need to. Instead, he simply gestured toward the door.

“Me too.”

As they stepped outside, the air outside was crisp, a quiet relief from the overwhelming heat of the party. She crossed her arms over her chest, less for warmth, more for something to do. Lando stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as he exhaled, long and slow.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

And then–

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

She let out something between a laugh and a scoff. “I wasn’t going to.”

His lips twitched. “Max?”

“Max.”

Silence again. But this one wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t unfamiliar. It was them. The kind of quiet that only came after knowing someone for years. The kind that held more weight than words.

Lando rocked back on his heels. “You didn’t have to come.”

She let out a breath, steadying herself. “I know.”

“Then why did you?”

She shifted on her feet, gaze flickering toward the door, toward the party she could easily slip back into. Away from this. But she didn’t move.

Instead, she sighed, voice softer now. “Because it’s your birthday.”

Lando exhaled through his nose, looking away for a moment. “I thought maybe you were done.”

“I thought so too,” she admitted. “I was trying to be.”

His gaze snapped back to her, something sharp behind his eyes. “Trying?”

Her stomach twisted. This was exactly what she had been afraid of – this conversation, the one she wasn’t sure she was ready to have. The one where she had to admit that all the time, all the space, all the growing hadn’t undone a damn thing.

“I didn’t want us to slip back,” she confessed. “Back into something that wasn’t healthy. Back into us, but wrong.”

Lando nodded, slow. “And do you think we would?”

She looked at him. At the way he was standing now, steadier, stronger, more him. At the way his face, older in ways that had nothing to do with time, still softened at the sight of her. At the way she still felt it. That pull. That certainty.

She swallowed hard. “No.”

He stepped forward. Not much. Just enough. And this time, he was the one to break the silence.

“You know what I realized?” His voice was quiet, careful. “That I could have the best day of my life, and it still wouldn’t be quite right.”

She stiffened.

“Because it’s not about someone seeing it,” he continued. “It’s about someone being there. It’s about looking over and knowing –” he broke off, shaking his head, then tried again. “I didn’t need you to see me win at Silverstone. Hell I didn't need you to witness any of this. I just –” his voice dropped even lower – “needed you. And then I saw you in that damn picture with my t-shirt on. It took everything in me not to drive to Bristol, looking for you.”

Her throat tightened. “Lando.���

“I know we did the right thing,” he said, brushing it off. “I know we needed time. I know we needed to fix things.” A pause. Then he looked dead into her eyes. “But tell me. Right now. That if we part ways now that you will be the happiest version of yourself.”

Now, she was standing in front of the person who had been both her greatest love and her hardest lesson. Now, she was staring at him, the weight of their history pressing in from all sides, and she still couldn’t imagine a life where she didn’t look for him in every crowd. Now, she was tired of pretending.

“I don’t regret what we did,” she whispered. Something flickered in his eyes, but he didn’t pull back. “I think we needed it,” she admitted. “I think we needed the space. The time. I think we needed to figure out who we were without each other.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue. “And I did. I figured it out.”

Lando didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. “And?”

She hesitated, because saying it out loud made it real. Made it true. But after all the turmoil she owed him that much.

“I had good days,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Really good days. Days where I laughed so hard my ribs ached. Where I felt strong. Where I was proud of who I was becoming.”

Lando’s jaw tensed. She inhaled sharply. 

“And then there were the other days. The ones where something amazingly good or amazingly bad happened, something I wanted to share, but I’d reach for my phone and realize – ” Her voice cracked. “Realize you weren’t there.”

Lando shut his eyes for a second, like he needed a moment to steady himself. “Yeah.”

Her chest tightened. “And you?”

His lips parted, but for the first time all night, words didn’t come so easily. So he exhaled, rubbed a hand over his jaw, and met her gaze with the kind of raw honesty that left no room for doubt.

“I had the best day of my life, and it still felt wrong because you weren’t there to see it.”

She blinked, chest tightening, but he wasn’t done.

“I had the worst day of my life too. And every instinct told me to go to you. And I couldn’t.”

Her throat burned.

“I used to think what we had was everything,” he murmured. “And then we broke apart, and I thought – maybe I was wrong. Maybe we were just young and caught up in something that was never meant to last.”

She held her breath.

“But then I lived without you. I learned how to be on my own. I grew. And I still came to the same conclusion.”

His fingers twitched at his sides, as if he was holding himself back.

“You are the only thing in my life that I’ve ever been sure of.”

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she forced a watery laugh. “That’s funny,” she whispered. “Because I was just about to say the same thing.”

Lando’s shoulders fell, something breaking apart and putting itself back together all at once. And then he stepped forward. And so did she.

And when he kissed her, it wasn’t about picking up where they left off.

It was about choosing each other again. And they landed exactly where they needed to.

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ɢʀʏꜰꜰɪɴᴅᴏʀ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚. 🂼 Losing Game.

Short Summary: being drunk sometimes means making reckless decisions, though agreeing on a bet with Tom Riddle might just top the list.

Warnings: 18+ only! rough oral m!receiving, slight dub con ig, Tom Riddle is a little bitch, no aftercare

A/N: first fic in ten days! finished my thesis and handed it in. SHDFJSKKF

also, this fic is based on this request! tysm for requesting! <3

wordcount: 2,5k

As soon as you saw the exam papers, you knew. 

You’d lose the bet.

A bet that was your idea in the first place.

—

Tom and you have been fierce rivals ever since you started Hogwarts. Always trying to outdo one another, striving for perfection on every single exam and paper you had to hand in.

It’s the day before your Potions exam. You shouldn’t be doing this—getting ready for the party in Slytherin’s common room when you know a late-night study session would be the only way to save you from embarrassment the next day.

Yet, you couldn’t miss out on a fun night with your friends, the ones that keep telling you to stop worrying about your grades so much, to finally take a day off studying.

If they only knew.

After you finish, you take a look in the mirror—neat makeup, hair perfectly styled, tall black heels, burgundy dress, short, maybe too short—you don’t care. Tonight is about having fun and hopefully forgetting about your studies for a few hours.

Flickering green lights and the heavy beat of the music wrap around you as you enter the room, immediately engulfing you in the party’s atmosphere, the smell of alcohol and spilled drinks heavy in the air. Your eyes dart around the place in an attempt to find your friends, but before you get the chance to do so, you spot another familiar face. Familiar in an unpleasant way.

He’s casually leaning against the wall, one hand tucked in his pocket while the other lifts his drink—firewhisky, you assume—to his lips. And he sees you too—a smug grin playing on his lips as his eyes shamelessly drop lower, wandering over your exposed skin before he returns them to your now flushed face.

Tom Riddle—head boy, former prefect, know-it-all. House rivals. He’s always tried to get under your skin with anything he could think of. If he outscored you by more than five points, you wouldn’t hear the end of it.

Merlin, how you despised him.

You silently curse him under your breath, shaking your head as you continue making your way through the crowd. Your skin tingles with the memory of his lingering gaze, already regretting your choice to put on your shortest dress.

As the night goes on, you almost forget about him, your friends keeping you busy with conversations and games. It’s not until after midnight that you see him again—coincidentally just after your friends left your side to get new drinks.

You don’t even realise it’s him until he’s standing in front of you, until you feel his eyes on your skin yet again. You look up at him, meeting his amused expression.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow as he gently sways his drink in his hand.

“Unlike you, I have a life, Riddle. I don’t bury myself in books all day.”

“Judging by your grades, that’s what you should be doing. Instead of…” he pauses, eyes roaming over your cleavage to your thighs and back up. “Going to a party in that dress.”

A scoff leaves your lips. That idiot.

“Yeah? Seems like you can’t get enough of it, hm?”

His eyes darken at your words, and merely the fact that he doesn’t have a smug comeback ready tells you you’ve hit a nerve. You are right. He was checking you out.

A satisfied grin forms on your lips as he turns around to leave without saying another word. However, overconfident with the buzz of alcohol rushing through your veins, an idea comes to your mind.

“Riddle,” you call out, voice barely audible above the loud music, and he stops in his tracks. “I bet I will outscore you tomorrow.”

The usual arrogant smirk returns, decorating his face as he retraces his steps, stopping right in front of where you are sitting on the couch, hands tucked in the pockets of his trousers.

“The alcohol is clearly getting to your head if you think you could beat me in any Potions exam.”

You scoff, but deep down you know he isn’t wrong. Potions isn’t your best subject by any means, while Tom seemingly had every potion perfected before you even discussed it in class. Maybe that was exactly what excited you in that moment.

“You don’t have to be afraid, Riddle. Even your ego can take a loss, I am sure of it.”

He nods then. “Fine. Although I expect an adequate prize. What that will be, I choose.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You shoot him a smile, and you don’t catch the last part of what he’s said until it’s too late.

“Good luck. You’ll need it.” He adds, before disappearing into the crowd, and you don’t see him again that night.

What that will be, I choose. His words keep repeating in your head when you are finally in bed, trying your hardest to fall asleep. Slowly sobering up, you can’t believe what you have done. You would never be able to even come close to him tomorrow—not with last bits of alcohol in your system, not with two hours of sleep, surely not with how much you have studied.

Fuck.

And of course, the inevitable happens. The exam is way too difficult, your mind still clouded, ears ringing as a result of your loud surroundings last night. You can’t concentrate no matter how hard you try, and finally decide to hand in early, before anyone else. 

You take one last look around the classroom before you leave, and immediately, your eyes lock with his. 

Tom has been watching your struggle with pleasure, knowing exactly what it meant—what he’d choose as his prize. From the second you initiated the bet, it’s been as clear as daylight what he’d want. .

A week later, and as expected, he has outscored you. In fact, he received the best grade possible on his exam. And you—you failed. Failed. You had never failed an exam before.

So, you have been waiting. Waiting for him to come to you and tell you what he’d want. But the moment hasn’t come—not even days later. 

The following weekend you find yourself at another party. You have expected him to talk to you there, preparing yourself with all sorts of drinks. Whatever he wants from you—and you fully expect it to be something humiliating—will be easier to endure with the courage you gain when you are slightly tipsy.

He’s there, you have seen him, but it doesn’t happen. He gives you that same arrogant smirk each time you see him, yet he never seeks a conversation. He might have forgotten. You hope he has forgotten.

The next day, after your final lesson of the day, you pack your belongings and leave the classroom. The corridors are empty at this hour as you make your way to the Gryffindor dormitories. You sigh as you turn the corner leading you out of the dungeons, ready to head to bed early after an exhausting day.

However, that plan shatters as a pair of strong arms shove you into an empty classroom, hand clamping over your mouth, muffling your attempts to scream.

The familiar scent of potion ingredients and old wood floods your senses as the door shuts behind you, quickly locked with a spell. And then, you finally see who has dragged you in here.

“Riddle, what the hell?” You whisper-yell, looking around you, scared someone has seen or heard you.

“If I remember correctly, you owe me.” He retorts smugly, not yet facing you, instead casting a silencing spell on the room. “And I am here to collect my prize.”

You cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a bookshelf behind you. “What do you want?

Tom turns around then, looking at you for a second before he speaks.

“You. On your knees for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You wish he was joking, but the tone of his voice tells you differently. He’s a hundred percent serious about this.

“There is no way I am doing that.”

“Oh but you will. You lost, I get my prize. It’s only fair.”

A sharp exhale leaves your lips, rolling your eyes. “Could have done this when I was drunk. Wouldn’t have been as humiliating.”

“I don’t take advantage of drunk girls. Also,” a grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he guides you towards the wall, forcing you on your knees so that you are facing him. “Makes me enjoy it more.”

You shake your head slightly, looking up at him. “You are sick, I hope you are aware.”

“Get to work,” he orders, disregarding what you just said. He takes a step closer, fingertips brushing over your cheek, thumb softly tracing along your lips. The strain on the fabric of his trousers is evident as your shaky hands make work of his belt, carelessly dropping the leather on the floor with a low thud. He doesn’t bother stepping out of his clothes, leaving them to pool around his ankles.

You swallow as you take in his size, hesitantly reaching out. With your thumb, you softly swipe over his already with precum glistenting tip, looking up at him through your lashes. Your hand wraps around his length before you give him a few soft strokes, earning a low groan of approval from the brunette.

His patience snaps when you trace along a prominent vein on the underside of his cock, forcefully tilting your head back as his fingers tangle in your hair, having you meet his gaze.

“Can’t take a little bit of teasing, Riddle? That desperate for me?” You say smugly, eyes never leaving his as your grip around him tightens, speeding up.

“Thought I’d go easy on you, but turns out you don’t want me to.” He hisses, guiding your head towards him. Your lips wrap around him then, tongue swirling over his sensitive tip before you take him as deep as you can, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat.

It’s not long before his grip on your hair tightens, stilling your movements before he thrusts himself inside of you, deeper than you had taken him. You obey, laying your tongue flat in your mouth as his length slips further, holding you there until you gag around him.

Focusing on breathing through your nose, you relax your muscles, making space for all of him, his eyes shutting in pleasure each time your throat constricts, squeezing him even tighter.

“Look at you,” he rasps, a ragged breath leaving his lips as his dark eyes now stare down at you again, watching his cock disappear in your mouth with every snap of his hips. “So eager to please me. Knew you were nothing but a pathetic slut behind that facade you try to put up. Smart— fuck—  always trying to impress— but in reality, this is the only thing you are actually good at, hm?”

With his hands’ tight grip on your hair, holding you in place as he uses your mouth, you find yourself unable to give a proper response other than a muffled sound of agreement—something he doesn’t seem to be quite satisfied with.

You gasp, taking in a deep breath as Tom yanks your head back, pulling you off his length, now coated in your spit. A string of saliva connects his tip to your swollen, reddened lips, blinking away your tears.

“Answer me.”

“Fuck— yes, Riddle.”

He shakes his head slightly, tilting your head even further back so you are met with his strict gaze. “What’s my name?”

“Tom,” you whisper, “yes, Tom.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “Remember it.”

Only a second later he is back inside of your warm mouth, holding onto your hair as leverage as he buries himself to the hilt, groaning as he feels you struggle for air, your hands holding onto his thighs for support.

You shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like how he is using you to get off, and yet, his soft gasps and groans as he gets closer to his release have you clenching your thighs together, desperately trying to ease the ache in your lower stomach.

“Hate to admit you were right. Can’t fucking get enough of you.” He grunts as you feel him twitch inside of you, spluttering around his cock as his thrusts grow harsher, tears running down your cheek as you try your best to take what he is giving you.

“Fuck— Show me—“ Tom breathes, hips stuttering, “show me whose good girl you are and swallow for me.” He barely gets the words out before he stills inside of you, the taste of his release flooding your senses as he empties himself inside of you—deep enough that swallowing is in fact the only option.

Still, he keeps your head pressed against his lower abdomen until he feels you swallow around him, only then pulling out of you.

Tom lets go of your hair then, and you sink against the cold brick wall behind you, utterly spent, jaw sore. You watch him getting dressed, mind still hazy when he walks towards you, looking like nothing happened—on the contrary to you.

“Look even prettier when you cry for me,” he remarks, taking in your state, wiping your tear-soaked cheeks with the back of his hand before he uses a spell to clean your chin and blouse.

And you let him do it, too tired and worn out to complain.

“I guess I have finally found a way to silence that bratty mouth of yours,” he mumbles when he is done, gently wiping a strand of hair from your face.

You look up at him then, hoarsely whispering a soft “Fuck you, Riddle.”

He offers you no other reply than his signature grin whenever he gets something he wants, his eyes fixated on you while he adjusts his robes.

“Tutoring for Potions every Thursday at 7 pm in the library. Don’t be late.” He says, exiting the classroom before you even get the chance to process his words.

You run out of curses to use for him by the time you reach your dorm, exhaustedly collapsing onto your bed. You tell yourself that no, you wouldn’t go because who does he think he is—yet it’s an offer you can’t decline.

So, every Thursday from then on, you find yourself studying for Potions under his guidance. It’s tough at first, but after just a few shared lessons, you realise he might not be that bad after all.

And soon enough, the next bet is made.

—

“If I outscore you tomorrow, I get to fuck you—properly.”

“You are delusional, Riddle.”

Naturally, you lose the bet.

The only difference: This time, you lose on purpose.

[finelinevogue]

Heyyy! I adore your writing, it's so soft and ahhh just obsessed, I can never get enough! Could I request something with shy!reader (maybe non-bau) and Emily where they had a meet cute and are maybe on their first date? xx

meet cute

OMG AN EMILY REQUEST YEASSS!! hopefully this is sort of what you wanted…?!? 💛💛

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

word count - 2.1k

Why did no one talk about the horrendous anxiety that came with first dates?

Your heart felt like it was beating so hard that it might as well be trying to escape your chest and the rest of your body was so shaky.

Normally when you were anxious you could never really pinpoint why, but this was different. The root of your anxiety was so easy to pinpoint and it was because you were going on a date with the prettiest girl you had ever seen.

Emily Prentiss had come into your life like a page out of a meet-cute novel.

She had mistakenly taken your coffee order for hers, even though it said your name on the side of the cup not hers. As shy as you were, you had not been ready to give up your morning coffee. Turns out confronting someone for taking your coffee can lead to exchanging phone numbers. Then phone numbers can lead to arranging a date.

And that date was today.

<.><.><.>

“Why are you in such a rush?” Morgan asked as he watched Emily clear her desk and pack her bag.

Normally Emily was here well past everyone else. Well… Maybe not Hotch, but definitely later than anyone else on the team.

Tonight was different though.

It was already 5PM and she was stressing that she hadn’t left herself enough time to get ready.

“There’s somewhere I need to be.” Emily answered.

Morgan chuckled because he should have anticipated a cryptic answer from his partner.

“Oh yeah? Where?” Morgan crossed his arms.

Spencer popped up from his desk, “I think I know.”

“Go on then pretty boy.” Morgan said.

“Emily rarely leaves work before 7PM, except today she’s been watching the clock countdown the seconds until she can legally leave work at 5PM. That tells us she has somewhere really important to be. Considering there’s no immediate family involved and we haven’t been invited I would suggest that Emily has a date.”

Emily scoffed, both annoyed and impressed that Spencer had managed to deduce all of that.

“Combine that current look she’s giving us with your theory Reid, I’d say you were right.” Morgan smiled and leaned forwards in his chair. “So…?”

Emily raised her eyebrows at Morgan, silently challenging him.

She didn’t deny anything though. Mainly because she knew she had been caught and there was absolutely no point in lying to a duo of profilers. However, that didn’t mean she needed to divulge in the details of her night.

“You two need to get a life and stop spying in on mine.” Emily said.

“You know that’s not gonna happen.” Morgan argued back, Spencer giving an understanding nod of agreement.

“Worth a shot.” Emily shrugged and left it at that. Not only was she eager to get away from this conversation, but she was also really determined to not screw this date up and so that meant leaving now.

“Details tomorrow, Prentiss.” Morgan shouted as Emily left the room.

<.><.><.>

The nerves had gotten ten times worse.

You had felt confident leaving the house, but now you felt somehow both underdressed and overdressed. You felt like you weren’t really meant to be meeting up with Emily this evening, like this wasn’t something that happened to you.

Maybe you’d made a mistake? Maybe this had all been a dream? Or maybe she thought she had been messaging someone else this whole time?

At least you were meeting in a neutral location, so if anything did go wrong then you could both leave and return to your own homes.

You let your shaky hands reach for your phone to check your messages again.

1 hour ago - From Emily Prentiss:

Looking forward to seeing you tonight : )

30 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

Me too xx

25 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

I am at the restaurant now xx

10 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

It was ‘The Olive Bistro’ that we were meeting at right? x

2 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

Just checking you’re okay?

Then your phone started vibrating and you could see that Emily was calling you.

You took a deep breath before answering.

“It’s okay!” You blurted out before she could say anything.

“Y/N?” Emily answered, her breathing sounding laboured.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Sorry, it just sounded like you said ‘It’s okay’.”

“No - I-I mean yes. Yes, sorry, it is okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“I’m assuming you’re calling to cancel?” You questioned.

“Not at all. Why would— Will you please stop walking so slow!”

Who was she yelling at?

“Sorry?”

“Y/N, I swear… Wait, have you been standing outside the restaurant this entire time?”

Emily’s question made you stand alert. Surely the only way she would know that is if she could see you right now.

“How do you…” You said, before being cut off by watching Emily walk really fast paced down the street towards you.

Emily must have hung up the phone so you did too, putting it into your coat pocket. Your attention was solely on her now and you didn’t want any distractions.

And gosh was she beautiful.

Emily was wearing dark boot-cut jeans, a high-neck black jumper and black boots. Her hair was styled perfectly around her face and her makeup looked the same as it had the other day.

You suddenly felt very okay about what you’d chosen to wear; similar jeans, also boots but a white shirt instead.

Your hands got more and more shaky as she approached.

“I’m so sorry.” She said as she stood a few feet in front of you. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m okay.” You gave her a nervous smile.

“I swear I’m not normally like this. I even left work early to avoid being late, but Sergio would not let me leave and then the car park… What?” Emily smiled when she saw the look you were giving her.

You shrugged your shoulders, “You still came here, even after a long day at work plus cat troubles?”

“Yes. Of course.” Emily looked wounded that you’d ever consider anything else.

“That’s kind of… romantic.”

Emily stepped closer to you and held out her hand for you to take. Your hand stopped shaking as soon as you held hers. She grounded you and reminded you that you were completely safe with her.

“No, it’s just basic human etiquette.”

“Not to me.” There was a hint of sadness to your tone, which Emily quickly picked up on and wiped away with the softest kiss to your cheek.

“Shall we?”

<.><.><.>

You hadn’t laughed like this in ages. The kind of laughing that left your belly stitch and your jaw ache. The kind of laughing that came from getting along with someone really well, which was interesting considering you’d only known Emily for a couple of weeks.

Dinner had gone really well.

You remembered to go for something that wouldn’t slop everywhere and drink something you knew was safe. Pesto pasta and a limoncello spritz. You had unintentionally impressed Emily with your choices too, which you were counting as a small win.

“Well I’m glad he’s okay.” You laughed.

“Him? Honey, it was me who was under attack.” Emily feigned shock.

“Yes, but he’s a cat. He doesn’t know any better.”

“Wow. Cannot believe you’re taking Sergio’s side over mine.”

You would have fallen for her pouty lips and her sad face if it wasn’t for her hand that held yours across the table. She had reached for your hand after dinner and hadn’t let go since.

It was really nice.

That sounds silly to say that holding a pretty woman’s hand was ‘nice’, but that was the truth. This was new to you and so you were taking everything in moment by moment.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” You asked.

“Oh I don’t know.”

“How about…”

“A kiss? You’re so right.” Emily jumped in before you could.

You blushed. She made you so nervous it was ridiculous. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Emily squeezed your hand.

“Okay.” You said, unsure.

You looked around the busy restaurant and thought about how uncomfortable this room would make you as you tried to have your first kiss.

Emily must have noticed though, because she squeezed your hand again to direct your attention back to her.

“I’m not kissing you here.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not the end of the night yet.” She smiled and your whole body relaxed. You actually felt your body return to the moment with Emily, knowing you could peacefully admire her under the warm restaurant glow for a little longer.

<.><.><.>

The end of the night came quickly.

You stood at your front door and Emily was there with you. She insisted that she came home with you, knowing exactly what kind of creeps are out there late at night.

The night had been so perfect and you could feel yourself becoming slowlh more comfortable with her. She laughed at your jokes, which told you you weren’t making a fool of yourself, and she listened to everything you had to say, which made you feel important. Emily had made you feel special all night.

“I had a good time tonight.” You said, picking out your keys from your coat pocket.

“Me too.” Emily smiled.

“Are we going to see each other again?”

“I hope so. If it wasn’t clear from sharing a lemon dessert with you when I actually hate lemons, then I really like you and I’d love to go on a date with you again.”

“Emily…” You pouted sadly.

“What? Are you upset about the dessert?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, because now when I kiss you all I’m going to think about is how I probably still taste of lemons and you’re going to hate every moment of it.” You frowned.

If you didn’t get your kiss off Emily then it wasn’t literally the end of the world, but it sure would feel like it.

“I don’t mind.”

“But…”

“Y/N, love, I don’t mind.” Emily cut you off firmly. “Okay?”

She took a step towards you, closing the distance, and cupped a hand over your cheek. She hesitantly guided your lips towards hers, ghosting over them to give you the chance to pull away if you wanted.

You closed your eyes as she got close and allowed your other senses to take over.

When Emily kissed you it felt weird.

You’d heard so often you would feel butterflies or fireworks, but in reality it wasn’t anything like that. It just felt natural, like you’d been doing this forever.

You felt right together.

She tasted of lemons so no doubt you did too, but that didn’t stop either of you from kissing each other. She felt so warm against you and you moaned a little in delight at the feeling.

When she pulled away you whined - like, actually whined - from the loss of contact. You watched Emily laugh as you opened your eyes again.

“We have time.” She said softly.

“Yeah, but… we have time now.” You said, trying to initiate another kiss.

“Where’s Little Miss Shy gone from earlier, huh?” She teased.

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re impatient.”

“This is unfair.”

“But it’s the end of the night.”

“Does it have to be?” You whined, probably sounding a lot more desperate than you were hearing.

“Yes,” Emily laughed, pinching your cheek, “C’mon.”

Emily walked you right in front of your door and motioned for you to open it with your key.

You had this intrusive thought that you could just kidnap her and keep her inside your house all night, just to spend more time with her but even that seemed a bit far-fetched.

Right?

You opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Emily standing on your doorstep.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” You said.

The way you were acting all clingy would no doubt cause you to have an anxiety attack as soon as you shut the door, because you had only been on one date and were already acting like you loved her.

No doubt it wouldn’t be hard or long before you did love her, but after one date seemed a little unreasonable.

Emily might even be thinking that you were coming on a bit too strong and this could be it…

“For today.”

“So unfair.” You muttered to yourself.

“Y/N.” Emily said, causing you to look at her seriously.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“Of course. I enjoyed spending time with you. Just don’t make me wait too long before the next one.”

[heartsriki]

LOVE SOUNDTRACK⌇음악

FLIRT ALERT! series⌇NI-KI | Prev

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader | word count: 2k+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ friends to lovers, lots of beating around the bush, no other warnings I think.

synopsis — Riki creates a playlist for you, each song reflecting your shared moments. As you listen, you uncover his hidden feelings and the confession tucked within the final track, leading to a sweet, music-filled moment where your love story plays out in perfect harmony.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊the ot7 series is done :( BUT NOW I CAN WORK ON LONGER AND DETAILED PROJECTS HURRAYYYY, hopefully yall like those when they come out!

The playlist shows up on your phone one evening without warning.

You’re sprawled across your bed, textbooks pushed to the side, a half-empty coffee cup perched precariously on your nightstand. The dorm is quiet except for the distant murmur of voices in the hallway. You’re mid-scroll through your music library when you notice it—For Y/N.

Your thumb hovers over the screen.

Weird. You don’t remember making this.

Curious, you tap on it, and the first song begins to play.

A soft melody hums through your earbuds, and immediately, something tugs at your memory. You know this song. It’s the one that you played in your dorm last winter, the night you and Riki sat by the window watching the first snowfall of the year.

You close your eyes, and the memory comes back in vivid detail.

“You think it’ll stick?” you had asked, blowing on your hot chocolate. The glass pane beside you was fogged up from the warmth inside, but beyond it, the snowflakes swirled under the streetlights.

“Doubt it,” Riki had said, drawing random doodles on the glass window like a kid. He had been watching the snow too, his expression calm. Then, he smirked. “But hey, if it does, I’ll let you abuse me with snowballs as a reward.”

You had laughed, rolling your eyes. “Like I need your permission for that.”

Now, lying in bed, you wondered about the playlist and its meaning.

Wait how did it even get on your phone?

The next day drags by in a haze of half-heard lectures and restless thoughts.

You barely remember getting dressed, barely remember grabbing your bag, and now you’re here—seated across from Riki at your usual table in the campus café, fingers curled around a cup of coffee that’s gone lukewarm.

And he says nothing.

Not a single word about the playlist.

You watch him, searching for any sign that he’s waiting for you to bring it up. But Riki is as casual as ever, scrolling through his phone between bites of his croissant, occasionally glancing up to make some offhand comment about a ridiculous campus rumor or the professor who showed up to class with the worst fashion sense ever.

Meanwhile, your thoughts are a tangled mess.

The playlist. The songs. What do they mean?

Your heart slams against your ribs just thinking about it.

Does he know you listened? Does he want you to say something?

You grip your coffee cup a little tighter, clearing your throat. “So… did you do anything interesting last night?”

It’s a test. A chance for him to bring it up naturally.

Riki hums, still staring at his phone. “Not really. Just played some games with Jake, went to bed late. You?”

You blink. Your fingers tighten around the cup.

Seriously?

He’s going to act like nothing happened?

Your eyes narrow, and you wait—wait for the moment he cracks, for the smirk, for the teasing remark, for anything that shows he knows exactly what he did.

But nothing comes.

“Just slept,” you mutter, forcing yourself to take a sip of coffee, even though it tastes bitter now.

The silence stretches between you.

It’s unbearable.

Your mind races through possibilities. Maybe he sent it by accident. Maybe it wasn’t meant for you at all. Maybe—

Riki stretches lazily in his seat, his hoodie slipping off his shoulder. “Oh, by the way,” he says, and for a second, your breath catches. Finally.

But then—

“Wanna grab ramen after class?”

You stare at him, your stomach flipping.

That’s it? That’s all?

Your grip tightens on your cup as you force a nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

Riki grins, completely oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

And as he goes back to his phone, casually sipping his drink, you realize—

If he won’t bring it up, you might just have to.

but of course Riki doesn’t bring up the playlist over ramen either.

You sit across from him in the crowded little shop just off campus, the air thick with the scent of broth and spices. The steam from your bowl curls between you, but it does nothing to chase away the tension sitting heavy in your chest.

You’ve been waiting—waiting—for him to say something, to acknowledge what he sent you. But instead, he slurps his noodles like it’s just another night, like he didn’t put together an entire playlist filled with memories.

And it’s driving you insane.

“You’re quiet today,” Riki remarks, his chopsticks hovering over his bowl as he watches you. His tone is light, but there’s something in his gaze—curious, a little teasing. Like he knows something is up.

You set your spoon down a little too forcefully. “Am I?”

His lips twitch like he’s holding back a smirk. “Yeah. So weird too. You usually don’t shut up.”

Your jaw tightens. Unbelievable.

If anyone else had made that comment, you’d have thrown a napkin at their face. But right now, you can barely focus on coming up with a comeback.

Your stomach flips just remembering it.

The worst part? Riki looks normal. Like none of this is affecting him at all.

Fine. If he wants to play it cool, two can play that game.

You lean back in your seat, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

Riki quirks a brow, tilting his head slightly. “That’s new.”

Your fingers tighten around your chopsticks. Say something. Bring it up. Ask him.

But just as you open your mouth, he reaches over, stealing a piece of your fish cake right off your plate.

You slap his hand, scowling. “Excuse me?”

He just grins, chewing obnoxiously. “What? You looked distracted. Figured you wouldn’t notice.”

You do throw a napkin at him this time.

And just like that, the moment passes. The conversation shifts to something else—an upcoming test, some campus drama, a new game he’s been obsessed with.

But underneath it all, the tension lingers.

Because you know the truth.

Riki put together that playlist for you.

And no matter how hard he tries to pretend it’s nothing, you know.

The only question is—when are you going to make him admit it?

That night, you give in.

You’re lying in bed again, phone resting on your chest, screen glowing softly in the dark. Your thumb hovers over For Y/N, heart hammering like it’s some kind of forbidden secret.

Riki still hasn’t said a word about it.

But you can’t let it go.

With a quiet breath, you press play.

The next song starts slow, familiar guitar chords filling your ears. The moment it plays, you recognize it—it’s from that weekend trip to the beach last summer.

Your lips part slightly as the memory washes over you.

The sun had just started to set, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. You and Riki had been sitting in the sand, sneakers discarded, the distant sound of waves blending into the music playing from his speaker.

“If I had to pick a favorite sunset, this would be it.” You had stretched your arms behind you, leaning back, letting the breeze tangle in your hair.

“You say that every time.” Riki had scoffed, but his voice was softer than usual.

“Because it always feels true in the moment.”

He hadn’t responded right away. You remember that part clearly. He had just looked at you for a second, something unreadable in his gaze. Then, instead of saying anything, he had reached over and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before quickly looking away, pretending like he hadn’t just done it.

You had pretended, too.

Now, lying in the dark, you exhale shakily.

You’re not imagining this. You can’t be.

These songs—they’re not just random picks. They’re moments, his moments, things that must have meant something to him.

And the more you listen, the clearer it becomes.

You need to talk to him.

The next day, it happens by surprise.

Because of you.

You’re sitting outside the café on campus, staring at your untouched drink, mind replaying the song over and over, when Riki slides into the seat across from you with a lazy grin.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teases, stealing one of your fries without asking.

You don’t respond. Just stare at him, long enough that the grin fades slightly from his lips.

“What?” he asks, chewing.

“Why won’t you admit that you made it?.”

His chewing slows. “Made what?”

You inhale sharply. “The playlist.”

Silence.

Riki freezes for half a second—so quick you almost miss it—before he forces a shrug, looking off to the side. “Yeah, so what? I made it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the casual admittance. “So what? You weren’t ever going to bring it up?”

He scoffs. “Didn’t know I had to.” Then, before you can say anything else, he pushes his phone across the table toward you, screen lighting up with his music app. “Just—listen to the last song.”

Your stomach twists. “Riki—”

“Just listen.”

And the way he says it—quiet, firm, almost nervous—makes you reach for his phone without another word.

You hesitate for only a second before pressing play.

The song starts slow, just like the last one—soft piano notes trickling in, delicate and familiar. It takes only a few seconds before you recognize it.

Your breath catches.

This song—it’s from that night.

The night it rained.

You remember it so clearly now, like the memory has just been waiting to resurface.

You and Riki had been caught in the sudden downpour, running through the empty streets, your shoes slapping against the wet pavement. You had been laughing, breathless, soaked to the bone, and Riki had grabbed your wrist, pulling you under the awning of a closed bookstore.

“We suck at checking the weather.” You had panted, pushing your dripping hair out of your face.

“No, you suck at checking the weather,” Riki had corrected, shaking out his arms like a wet dog.

You had rolled your eyes, shivering slightly. Without a word, Riki had tugged off his soaked hat, shaking off the rain before draping it over your head.

“Riki—”

“Just wear it,” he had muttered, avoiding your eyes. “Protects you from the rain a bit.”

The moment had stretched between you, heavy despite the laughter that had just filled the air. You remember how his fingers had brushed against yours when he adjusted the hat, how close he had been, how the rain had clung to his lashes when he finally looked at you.

And now—this song.

It had been playing from the small speaker outside the bookstore, blending into the sound of raindrops and your pounding heart.

Back in the present, sitting across from Riki in the café, you slowly set his phone down.

He’s not looking at you, gaze fixed on the table, fingers tapping against his cup.

Your chest feels impossibly tight.

“This song,” you whisper. “I remember it.”

Riki lets out a quiet breath, barely a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? thought you wouldn’t with your short term memory.”

Your heart stutters. “Why—” You swallow. “Why put this one last?”

Finally, he looks at you. There’s something in his expression you can’t quite place—something cautious, something vulnerable.

“Because that’s when I knew.”

Your stomach flips. “Knew what?”

He exhales sharply, shaking his head like he’s frustrated with himself. Then, he meets your gaze, eyes steady.

“That I liked you.”

The words hang between you, weighty and real.

“Me too” you responded.

Series Taglist — prev

@saphiranishimurashan @elairah @baribaaari @m1kkso @letwiiparkjay @jellyluv4eva @manuosorioh @moontyun @mbsnow @taesanoreohair @tiny-shiny @glimmerinaaa @e-r-i-15 @starbyeol1512 @seyoungiesleeps @vrusha01 @enhaprettystars @luv-rizzimura

[mikkomacko]

Reader x mob!boss Nico (also sorry if that's wrong, this is my first request for the series) but something angst smut maybe after Nico comes from the gym?

A/n: This has been in my inbox for literally months I am so sorry it took me so long to write this omg 🫶 but for those of you worried I ignored your blurb requests, they’re probably just in my drafts still lmao

I changed this up a bit but I hope you still love it!

Warnings: smut, jealous Nico, angry Nico

____________________________________________

Nico doesn’t have exes. He’s got old hook-ups and one night stands, girls that clearly come to the Rock looking for him. They’ve all heard about how hot the Devils boss is, as well as the Devils themselves.

It never bothered you.

Nico never had anything with them, at least nothing real, so you never thought you’d have to worry about jealousy between you and Nico. At least nothing beyond the light hearted pouting he does when you’re with Johnny or the way you attach yourself to his hip when girls are obviously flirting with him.

Until an old face made an appearance at the Rock.

You blame Jack for it, honestly. It was harmless, Tyson was harmless other than Nico recognizing the name as soon as you stumbled upon your old boyfriend at the bar. It was one of the first personal stories Nico ever heard about you. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first heartbreak. You dated him for a while, fell in love, decided to celebrate your year anniversary together by finally doing it. The universal act of love, the infamous first time from every rom-com.

Except there was nothing romantic or comedic about it at all. It was below average sex, the build up lasted longer than the act itself, and you felt so empty, so disappointed afterwards that you had burst into tears as soon as Tyson was off of you. He panicked, got dressed and basically ran out the door saying he'd check on you later. Later came the next day when he broke up with you, saying you were too much for him and should be with someone who could handle you.

Nico hated Tyson enough as is just for that story. And then he hated him even more when he strolled up to you at the bar and acted like old friends, chatting with you even as you tried to keep conversation quick. You know Nico would've scared Tyson off in a matter of seconds, but you wanted to be civil, so you let him hang with his arm around your shoulders, sipping his beer with a brooding look as Tyson babbled about his life to you.

And you were just about to excuse yourself when Jack ambled up to Nico and asked, "who's the douche?" Which just egged on your boyfriend, his temper already flaring and he shot Tyson a dirty look.

"Her ex."

"Ouch," Jack winced, then patted Nico on the shoulder and leaned into his ear. "She has a type, I'll tell you that."

It was just loud enough for you to hear, turning to Jack with a glare and to hopefully placate Nico but it was all for nothing. He was already angry, already boiling over with a jealousy you've never seen. Denying Jack's statement was only going to make it worse, even though the stupid boy was fucking with Nico. The only thing Nico and Tyson had in common was their dark eyes, and even then Nico's are far darker, hold more depth, are more beautiful.

"Sorry Tyler," Nico spits, not even attempting to be polite or genuine in his 'mishap" on the name. "We've gotta go."

Nico's dragging you away after that, hand on the back of your neck and even though he's jerky and rough as he guides you around the bar and down the hall, his hold isn't mean or hurting. Just demanding.

Swiftly, Nico shoves you through the door into the office, kicking it shut behind him and flicking the lock. You weren't going to say anything, knowing words right now would do nothing for Nico. He accepts and expresses love through physical acts. You two are working on the words thing, but when he's upset like this, it's best to stick what's fool proof.

His hands grab at your face, cupping your jaw and dragging you forward, smashing his lips to yours in a fierce, biting kiss. And you just let him, holding the sides of his neck in your careful hands, easily letting him lead you further into the office until your thighs hit the desk. They’ve barely touched the hardwood before he’s grabbing at your thighs, hefting you onto the desk with effortless strength.

You know Nico is strong, have seen him in the gym, have seen him moving boxes and furniture, have seen him fighting. And you’ve felt it firsthand. Yet every time it takes your breath away, reminds of you that you’re with a man now, not some silly boy like Tyson and all the other average Joes before Nico.

It sends a wave of heat down your spine and straight to your core, arousal pooling in your belly and suddenly it’s like you’re so fucking empty and useless, like you’re life’s mission is to get Nico as deep into your pussy as he could possibly get. How you ever lived without him between your thighs, you don’t know.

“Nico,” you whisper, pleadingly, whimpering when he bites your lip in retaliation. His eyes are dark and demanding when he looks at you, bordering on anger but you know him better.

He just wants your attention. He wants you.

“Don’t talk to me,” he scolds, then almost dismissively he grabs at the bottom of your shirt and starts to haul it up and over your head. “Not after you made me stand there with that fucking hodensniterin and play nice.”

Knowing better, knowing you’ll get him the way you want if you sit there and let him go about his way, you comply as he throws your shirt to the floor, already working his over his head.

You don’t even realize you’ve moved until Nico is staring down at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. “Now you want me?” He goads, wrapping a hand around your wrist and stopping you from trailing your fingers any further over his abdomen. “You want to touch me?”

You’re nodding along before he’s even finished speaking, brain already going fuzzy from how needy you feel. It’s like all your brain can think about is him, all you can see is him, all you want is him. His name forms on your tongue again and you have to bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your mouth to stay shut.

Meanly, he laughs, yanking you up to your feet by the wrist. Like a rag doll you go with him, flung and maneuvered around so swiftly it catches you off guard when your elbows hit the desk, cushioned by something. Blinking a few times, you look down and realize Nico has thrown his shirt over the hardwood, bunched up as padding under you.

It’s such a sweet thing for him to do, not unexpected of him even when he’s like this, but it still makes your body flush with heat.

“Too fucking bad,” he continues, “I’m doing the touching. Not you.”

Like it’s instinct, you arch back into Nico when you feel the heat of his body get close to you. He chuckles lowly, barely skimming the palm of his hand over your ass but flinching away when you press back into him.

Tears of frustration sting at your eyes, desperation burning in your skin. If he’d just let you talk, let you tell him how badly you want him, how much you need him inside of you right now it’d be fine. But he’s in a mood and already told you not to talk to him.

His fingers hook into the band of your skirt and underwear, the pads of them rough and warm as they drag across your skin. In one pull he's yanking both over the globes of your ass and down your thighs, leaving them bunched up around your ankles.

The air is cold on your newly exposed skin, raises goosebumps on your skin and you shiver, squeezing your thighs together to preserve some heat in your burning core, and subtly relive some of the throbbing in your clit. Nico reacts before you can even let out a hum of satisfaction, wedging a hand between your thighs and smacking them back open.

"Spread them," he demands, shoving his foot between yours now for insurance. You groan, hiding your face in your arms and biting into the meat of your forearm to silence yourself. Apparently that's the wrong move too though because Nico bumps his knee into the back of yours. "Nuh-uh, hands now."

Begrudgingly, you slip your arms around to your back, pressing your wrists together. Chest and cheek flat on the desk, the new position pulls at the stretched muscles of your legs, the ache just enough to make you throb even more.

His left hand gathers yours in one, long fingers holding them together by the wrist, and he presses down into the small of your back. You whimper, more out of embarrassment and neediness than pain but Nico sills for a moment, his right hand stroking over your ass gently.

"You ok?" He checks, voice a quiet murmur and you take a mental check of your body. It's a little degrading being thrown and bent over his desk like this, ass up for him to do as he pleases, but it stings in the best way possible. You trust Nico, know that even when he's got you exposed and vulnerable like this he would never go too far, even though he could.

It's exhilerating.

"Tell me baby," Nico encourages, settling his hand on the seam of skin where your thigh meets the bottom of your ass.

"I'm ok," you say, closing your eyes and breathing in the cologne on his shirt, the rich scent of him. It's soothing and you quickly amend, "I'm perfect, Schao."

You can picture the pleased smile on his face, the dimple it carves into his cheek.

"Good girl," he purrs, dragging his thumb through your folds. The sudden touch sends a shock wave through you, hips canting and rising to your toes to give him better access to your swollen and desperate clit.

"S'this all you needed to be nice to me again?" Nico skips over where you want him the most, going back to thumbing at your hole teasingly. "To pay attention to me instead of that cock-sucker out there?"

You're not sure if your allowed to talk again, so you bite your tongue, sucking in quivering breathes of air through your nose to stay grounded. I was just being polite, you want to say, to defend yourself. I hate him and I love you Nico.

Torturously slow, Nico dips his thumb between your folds, sinking into just the knuckle and you hold your breathe, scared that any sudden movement will spook him into stopping.

He pumps his thumb in shallow movements, careful and calculated. It's not everything you want from him but it's something, a content breath puffing out of your nose.

"Thinks he knows you," Nico mutters, more to himself than you. He pulls back, his thumb suddenly disappearing and you whine, pussy clenching down on nothing. Thankfully, Nico doesn't care about the bratty noise enough to scold you. He silences you with two thick fingers, shoving them into you up so abruptly you flinch, digging your cheek further into his shirt.

"He doesn't," Nico says, louder this time like he's trying to remind you. It goes in one ear and out the other, your mind to preoccupied with the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. He pets at the sensitive sponge part of you, curling his fingers to hit it dead on and your knees shake.

"He doesn't know how to bend you over like this, how to take you apart like I do, does he?"

Your fingers clench into fists, stomach clenching and every push of Nico's finger stretching you pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm. His hand on your wrists tightens, holding you in place and then his fucking his fingers into you faster. Your orgasm crashes over you, white stars bursting behind closed eyes.

He's still talking to himself, muttering stuff under his breath and stroking you through your high. Your thighs quiver and shake, the insides of them damp with it and your knees fully give out, leaving you a heap on the desk. The pounding in your ears must have blocked out the sound of Nico's zipper and the drop of his jeans, because your caught of guard when his fingers have only left you for a second before the weeping head of his cock is prodding at your pussy.

In one swift motion he buries himself in you, stretching your walls as his hips sit tightly against your ass. You feel useless, boneless after your orgasm, only able to lay there and take it. It's so nice you could cry, sniffling as Nico pulls back and fucks into you, a raw moan ripping from his throat.

"Fuck so perfect for me," he compliments, setting a fast and brutal pace. Your thighs and hips smack into the desk so harshly they'll definitely be sore tomorrow if not bruised too. His other hand grabs at your side, holding you so tightly you can feel his fingers between your ribs, painfully keeping you still.

"Just for me, fucking made for me."

You gasp, arch further into his strong body as your walls flutter around him. "All for you Nico," you mumble submissively, hoping to god that that's what he wants from you, that he wants to hear you. He groans in approval, the sound wrecked and rough. "Just want you, only ever want you, Nico."

Somehow he picks up the pace, fucking into you even harder and in the back of your mind you wonder where the fuck he got such a sturdy desk. Pressing his chest to your back, Nico sweeps your hair to the side, his lips finding the side of your neck.

"He had you first," he says low, breath hot against your ear "but I get you forever, right?"

Desperately, you nod, another orgasm building in the base of your belly. "Forever," you confirm. "He had me first, you'll be the last to have me Nico."

Sweetly, Nico kisses your temple. "Tell me," he request, now kissing at your jaw. "I want to hear more baby."

The juxtaposition of his cock fucking you into next week and his mouth being so sweet and soft cuts through you, leaves you raw and exposed to him. You knees shake again, thighs quivering as your high gets closer and closer, stronger now that he's already left you used and sensitive.

"He was the first to have me," you choke out, Nico's mouth ghosting over your cheek as he waits with bated breath. "but you were the first to have me raw, boss."

Nico makes a wounded sound, like he'd been punched in the gut and his hips stutter for a moment before picking up the same pace. He captures your mouth in a biting kiss, licking into your mouth with such dominance and control it sends you over the edge.

He fucks you through it, rocking his hips a few more times before he too stills, buried to the hilt as he comes. You pulse around him, greedily accept everything he pumps into you with absolutely no resistance. Nico kisses at your slack mouth, mumbling soft praises as you come down from your second orgasm.

"So good, baby. You did so good for me," he dots kisses under your eye, dragging his fingers across the skin and you blink your eyes open, realize your eyelashes are clumpy with tears and he's drying your cheeks for you.

"Nico," you cry, legs and hips aching, the edge of the desk digging into your skin uncomfortably He shifts, taking his weight off of you and releasing your hands. They prickle with pins and needly, the blood rushing back to them as they fall to your sides, numbly.

"I got you sweet girl," he assures, kissing down your back. Your in a haze as he pulls his jeans and boxers back up, then helps ease your underwear and skirt back into place. You make a noise complaint, needing to at least clean up a little bit but you don't make a move to do anything.

"You're fine," Nico tells you, slipping a hand under your stomach to drag you up from the desk. "Can sit out there with me dripping from you, yeah? Want you to remember who takes such good care of you now."

Like mush, you let Nico turn and sit you on the desk again, swiping his black shirt from the surface. He looks so pretty standing over you, cheeks flush and glowing, eyes still dark with arousal. His hair falls a little flat over his forehead, a crooked and boyish smile on his face.

"Yeah," you agree, still dazed as he uses his shirt to wipe under your eyes and around your lips, cleaning the spit remaining from his mouth.

Nico leans down, kisses between your eyes in a move so soft and fluttering it tickles, makes you blush like a school girl. "You're never too much," he promises, recalling the reason why Tyson had broken up with you. "You are everything. So pretty when you come, when you cry for me like that. I live for it."

Your heart aches in your chest, his kind words drawing a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. It had been something that followed you, an insecurity always in the back of your mind. You accepted whatever love you could get because you thought that was it. You were too much, they couldn't offer you more and you couldn't ask for more.

Until Nico.

"I love you Schao."

He smiles all handsome and precious, smoothing your hair down with a gentle hand. "Love you more, my baby."

You fall forward into his stomach, cheek pressing into the damp skin on his ribs. You want to hug him but your arms are still regaining their feeling and your legs are tired right now, so you settle for lazily wrapping an arm around his thighs.

“What’s a hodensniterin?”

He snickers, hand on your head, protectively. “Ball fucker.”

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"We'll limit the deaths of the innocents as much as possible... though I already know some at least will suffer and die. They always do, get caught up in these things they have nothing to do with. You know that better than most, from first hand experience... on the giving and receiving ends alike. Maybe we'll be fortunate for a change and there won't be any innocents on this island. We won't have to hold back against this Cult of Cthulhu."

Eskel's low, grim tone suggested to Sabrina as he finished his weapon and equipment checks, before rising up again to his feet, looking around the cavern and back to where they had come from. Making his way back to the mouth of the cavern, he began to ward it up with a variety of protective Signs and magical traps, taking no chances with the enemy they face, the unknowns at play. He would have to use every trick in the book to survive this island, he was certain. It was a good thing the particular book he lived by was a thicker tome even than the Necronomicon... a tome he would take over the latter any day. His knowledge was not a destroyer of worlds, but a salvation of them... even if on a far less grand scale. At the same time, she lay down magical traps of her own to supplement his defenses, even with the strain of magical usage undoubtedly taking its toll on her. She cast her illusions as well to hide not only her traps, but his... a wise precaution, given the cult's abilities and knowledge... undoubtedly of a magical nature. He would have to set up some conventional traps as well, when they moved further inland... he had spotted forest areas on the island coming in... he was as at home in a forest as he was on a mountain... not that he wasn't used to caverns as well. Most of the time it had been up to him to clear the monsters and beasts settling in them, including the Kikimores of the abandoned mine near Kaer Morhen.

As it stood, for all their differences, the two of them worked well together with their arcane powers, what they knew, and their present surroundings, making the most of each. When the rain soaked Witcher and Sorceress alike had finished, satisfied, they returned to the warmth of the blazing fire Scorpion stood near, settling in his spot and making sure she got something to drink in her, before he started to prepare their supper. He didn't expect she would be able to keep much down at the moment, still recovering from the effect of the Star-Spawn's presence, but she would need all the energy and rest she could get before they headed inland for answers. He couldn't deny the mystery of it all, horrifying as he knew its root to be, was no less tempting to him than the knowledge had been to her. A case to record in the records of Kaer Morhen, if they survived to make it back to the keep. At her unexpected grateful words, his viper eyes turned the crimson haired Sorceress beauty's way again silently for a moment. It seemed under risk of death, along with magical duress and the eldritch unknown, she was able to open up to him more. Share vulnerability she couldn't most of the time, even behind doors under ideal conditions. Reaching over when she sat close beside him, he took a hand of hers into his own, squeezing it with a nod, and continuing to hold it as his deep, calm voice returned to her again languidly. Looking between her and the blazing fire before them, drawing in a breath of the salty but warm air, smirking faintly.

"You're welcome, red. It's what I do best, remember? The hand destiny dealt me. Cleaning up the messes of others. Hopefully, when we're done with this, and survive, you start listening to the occult expert you've known for decades, for a change. Don't go chasing blindly after things you don't understand. Won't always be there to bail you out... already brought you back once. Likely that is also a reason these cosmic horrors can reach you more easily, in addition to all that exposure to the Necronomicon. You've been on the other side. Alive again or not, you've been touched by death, and what lies beyond. Many of these eldritch beings are already dead, yet still they dream, and affect reality from the void. There is no safe way to access power such as theirs... by its very nature."

@fallesto

Sabrina nodded slowly, her eyes on the flickering fire. It was a small comfort, a semblance of home amidst the alienness of this place. She watched as Eskel began to check his weapons and gear, his movements methodical and precise. It was a ritual she knew well, one that Witchers often performed before rest. She knew that despite his casual tone, he was preparing for the worst. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of all that has happened pressing against her, and followed his lead. She began to check her own gear, her hands shaking slightly with the adrenaline still pumping through her veins. The warmth of the fire began to seep into her bones, and she felt the first tendrils of exhaustion coil around her. As she wished for anything else other than this, but this was the mess that they are in, there was nothing else to be done. As she looked and with a final look around the cavern, she stood, her shoes scraping against the cold, damp stone. She focused her mind and called upon her magical abilities, the air around her shimmering briefly with an arcane energy. She placed her hands on the cavern walls, whispering ancient incantations that only a few remaining mages knew. The rock began to pulse under her palms, the dampness retreating as the magic took hold. Slowly, she etched symbols into the stone, each one a ward that would alert them to any approaching danger. She was careful to hide the glowing marks with a thin veil of illusion, so they would not be easily spotted.

“It will do for the time being, we can rest here and when we have some sleep, we can begin, monsters will be here, maybe innocent people as well, hard to say, getting here was a problem, getting away will be another problem as well, but that comes after we do everything we need to be done.”

Next, she gathered rocks and branches from outside, using her magic to weave them into a series of clever traps. Each one was designed to be triggered by the subtlest of movements, yet strong enough to deter or even harm anyone who stumbled upon them. She placed these around the perimeter of their makeshift camp, each one a silent sentinel waiting to protect them from the shadows. As she worked, the rain grew heavier, soaking her hair and clothes, but she didn't notice, lost in the rhythm of her craft. She looked, and would see that Eskel watched her with a mix of admiration and concern. Her determination was unyielding, but he could see the toll the day's events were taking on her. She knew that rest was crucial, yet the urgency of their situation allowed for little. When she finished, she was handed her a flask of water. She took a grateful sip, the comfort spreading through her chilled body as she would move and sit right down beside him.

“Thank you for everything, I mean that, no doubt if it was just myself, I would have failed or just walked away from this.”

[vin-at-thehub]

Vin wrote a fic for you btw @dustcrumbs

Here it is:

It was late, probably some point when the morning would come up and kiss the night away. The time where the sun wouldn’t rise with color but the moon would fade into the background and hold everything in a soft glow. It was also the point at night where Horror trudged his way back into the palace. He had been actively out all day with the plan of visiting his brother after he handled some supplies runs from Nightmares orders. If things had gone well, he didn’t show it, if it went poorly, he still didn’t show it, having his expression in a held smile. Masking in its own way.

By the time he had made it past the kitchen, to the stairs, he paused, hearing mumbling coming from that room. He stood there for a moment, before the voice of Dust clicked into his skull. Ah, Dust was awake—and talking to himself again-? Horror wasn’t sure who or why Dust spoke to seemingly no one, but he didn’t really mind overall. They were all freaks here, weren’t they-? Why would he have the right to judge Dust-? Especially when Dust had been nothing but nonchalant with him.

Horror smiled as he went and walked himself into the kitchen, eye-lights flashing around as he tried to spot Dust—there he was, mumbling something as he heated up a pot of water over the stove, and tried to strain some leaves into it.

“Whatcha doin bud-?” He asked gruffly, being caught off guard by how low his own voice was. Stars below, he was exhausted, wasn’t he-?

Eh, hopefully the big bad boss would just let him sleep through the day—and then he could stuff his face when he ate later. Maybe. It was still hard to eat without thinking of the people back home that had so little—even though he brought them food, and well, he had noticed the boss’s brother bringing some supplies at all—but at the end of the day, making sure the food didn’t go to waste was still something good to get done.

Dust snapped his skull up at him, knocking him out of his thoughts. Dust had a habit of pulling him out of his thoughts. It was nice. Sometimes Horror would just silently find himself near Dust, knowing that fog in his mind would go away around him.

The hooded skeleton shuffled his feet, eyelights likely flickering to the boiling tea. “Was gonna make you a…er cup of tea.” He said blankly. Horror stared at him in surprise for a second. Well that was a sweet pick me up. Hell, yeah. As he opened his mouth (teeth..-?) to reply with an enthusiastic thank you, Dust had started his mumbling again.

”shut up I’m trying—it’s just tea—..” He hissed to the air. Huh. Horror reached a clawed hand out and tilted his chin up—avoiding just grabbing his face like he used to since it pissed the boss of for some reason when he yanked Dust around like that—and bringing his attention back to him.

”Yah okay bud-?” He asked, tilting his skull so he could basically stare into the others covered eyelights. In a cute, friendly way of course. Dust just nodded, using blue magic to raise the pot and pour the tea into cups, handing one to Horror. Not saying much. Which was fine to him. Whatever he wanted to do was fine. Though Horror couldn’t help but be curious to what he had heard the other say earlier.

——————————————-

“Can I ask yah who you were chattin with-?” Horror asked, and Dust could swear his soul stopped in his ribcage. Papyrus, or whatever was left of him paused. Then he left. Coward. Leaving him alone with Horror after bullying him for making the guy tea. It was just tea, not a soul proposal or something. Dust took a sip of tea as he nodded, trying to silently figure out what to say, and sipping on leaf water was one way to delay his answer.

He wasn’t afraid to tell Horror. Not really. Not like he was trying to seem more sane than he was. But…it would be nicer to still seem slightly put together. It was probably why Horror constantly seeked him out. Right-?

Oh right he had basically downed the entire cup.

Time to talk, he supposed.

”I was..chatting with my version of Paps.” He said with a shrug. Not wanting to go into too much detail, besides, Horror would probably bomb him with questions anyway. Most did.

But as he waited, that bomb never came. Horror just nodded as he sipped thoughtfully on his tea.

“That sounds nice, bein able to chat with your bro a bunch.” He said with a slight grin.

Oh.

oh.

He wasn’t judging, wasn’t pushing him to say anything more, wasn’t acting like this was world shattering news.

Of course he wasn’t.

He was Horror, his perfect fucking man that understood everything far better than anyone would, then anyone gave him credit for. He kept things simple because simple was what they both needed. What the world needed.

Dust felt himself pull into one of his older grins. He wanted to tell Horror something. How he was feeling right now maybe, how nicely his words had effected him, something to make this…partnership stronger—just something. If he wanted to be a bit drastic “that warms the inside of my soul.” Or to be a bit simpler and direct, “I need you to stay with me. You make me feel safe.” Wonderful plan.

What came out was: “I need you inside me.”

…oh he was fucked.

[maiyz]

a pearl

yuji x reader | masterlist

01: nice binder goob

wc 0.8k

you arrived at jujutsu tech in early february, it gives you about 4 months to plan an assassination of sukunas vessel, a first year student named yuuji itadori.

your tactical boots specialized in traction and protection crunch the winter leaves below you. its just about 6am, you woke up early today.

you plan out the killing in your head. come to think about it 4 months is a lot isnt it? you typically like making it quick and simple, although you have little experience in actual killing people.

perhaps bidding your time would be the best option. jujutsu tech is filled with many powerful individuals who would most likely kill her if they knew her intentions. your biggest fear is the 10 shadows user, he appears to have the closest relationship to sukunas vessel.

at around 7am she arrived outside the classroom, where gojo sensei would be waiting to introduce her to the measly 3 first year students inside.

“everybody!” gojo shouts at a volume way too loud for 7 in the morning. “we have a new student! give her a round of applause!”

sukunas vessel and kugisaki clap lamely while fushiguro makes no attempt to indulge in gojos acts.

you enter the classroom and bow slightly before walking to the single empty desk. “thats yn zenin! which puts the first year class at 4 students! hooray!” gojo shouts.

you have no intention on talking to the other students, or anyone for that matter. while gojo talks about paired missions all you can do is fight the urge to fall asleep, maybe waking up early was a bad idea.

“ok! we have an even number of students sooo…! were gonna do paired missions! nobara and megumiii in one pair and ill supervise yuji and yn!”

is gojo ever quiet.

oh, me and sukunas vessel?

thats good. i could probably kill him easily. what about the veil though? i surely wouldnt be let out if gojo is supervising.

well its still good to figure out some information about sukunas vessel.

you enter the car driven by gojo, the mission you were assigned to is a grade 2 curse in an abandoned hospital about 45 minutes away. you stare out the window on to the dense forest near the road.

the car stops before gojo tells you and sukunas vessel to get out of the car. you stretch slightly when getting out due to sitting for too long before starting to walk to the mission site.

gojo lowers his veil trapping you and sukunas vessel, hopefully he doesnt like. kill you or smth.

you walk around looking for a 2nd grade curse, checking the patients rooms, waiting room, the roof. although you just cant put your finger on where it is.

while youre looking, sukunas vessel keeps blabbering on and on, to the point where youre starting to tune him out.

he taps your shoulder which throws you off guard, causing you to step back away from him quickly.

“just trying to ask a question” sukunas vessel says.

i thought he was gonna kill me. he couldve just now.

“what.”

“why did you become of a sorcerer?”

theres a brief silence before you say. “its none of your business”

“thats fine, you remind me of fushiguro in a way! youre both very grumpy you know?”

after about a couple minutes of fighting with the curse you end up surviving the mission relatively unharmed, sukunas vessel took most of your heavy hits for you.

you and sukunas vessel end up both going to ms leiri for her expertise in reverse cursed technique. not that you needed it, you just tagged along.

you tagged along because you had to. not because you wanted to.

you, the other 2 firsts years, and sukunas vessel get treated to. revolver sushi. or something similar to that. you expected this is be a gun shop or maybe the name of a brand, not a type of restaurant.

“what you and kugisaki never been to a revolving sushi place? you have to go its so cool! its for the experience!” (ita)

“they dont have those where i grew up. revolving sushi is cheap isnt it? lets go somewhere expensive since gojo sensei is paying” (kugi)

“but i want it! its not about how expensive it is, its about the experience!” (ita)

“you say that until you get food poisoning.” (kugi)

“you agree with me, right zenin!??” (ita)

you shake your head in disagreement.

“see i told you! zenin agreed, were gonna get steak!” (kugi)

“when did zenin agree to get steak” (fushi)

“shut your mouth.” (kugi)

extra!

lol im so stupid instead of ln i just use zenin frigg

can u tell dialogue is my least fav thing ever. ngl everything non smau is.mmmlol

my friend said i was the type to read ao3 and bl. i ask her hiw did she know what that meant and she was like. i have my sources. ok freak

i played volleyball and i hit it and it bounce onto my face or smth ow

my chromebook got power washed wuess by who. me. i did on accident my bad 💔✌️

took soso long for this I SPENT LJKE 2 weeks. next chapter in 6 weeks stay stuned

ok gn.

taglist! (0/50)

[aaplecore]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowgirl

(Agatha Harkness x fem!reader)

Summary: An unfamiliar cowgirl comes into the saloon you work in one day, helping you deal with a group of creepy regulars.

Warnings/tags: None, only minor nsfw stuff (Implications)

Notes: This is not proofread at all… it might be a little off, sorry </3

I have some better stuff planned for after this, trust 😇

(plus I don’t have writers block so I’ll be posting frequently hopefully….)

On a hot, dry, summer day, you were working your usual hours at Westview’s local tavern. As a barmaid, the pay was fair, plus you got free drinks… but you also had to deal with a constant onslaught of touchy-feely cowboys. Drunk cowboys, at that.

Of course, this meant learning to deal with guys grabbing your ass every now and then… but, tonight, they were being especially rowdy.

“Why don’t you give us a smile, baby!”

One of the men called, slapping your ass as you walked away with a tray of drinks. If it weren’t risking your job you’d knock his lights out. Since that isn’t exactly possible if you want to afford rent, you turn around quickly to rip him a new one instead, even though it would mean a few days of working the closing shift alone… just before you feel a woman’s hand resting on the crook of your back.

“Herb… are you bothering this beautiful young lady right now?”

She asks, glaring at the man. He looks… scared?

“No. ‘Course not, Agatha.”

He says quickly, shaking his head. He’s now looking down into the glass of whiskey, avoiding the woman’s gaze. You look over at her to see her intently glaring at the man, a look of warning. You also noticed she just so happened to be kind of hot.

“Hm. Okay. I just want to let you know…”

Agatha steps up to the table, letting go of you and resting her hands on the table, looking over the man—Herb, presumably—with an intimidating stare.

“If I ever see you grope another woman like that i’ll knock your sorry ass into next week, m’kay?”

She says quietly, standing up with a smile, as if she hasn’t just threatened this grown man. He doesn’t even try to argue…

As soon as you look back at her, you see she’s staring, looking you up and down with a smile.

“You alright, dollface?”

She asks, guiding you away from their table and back to the bar with a hand on your back again. Her fingers drum in your waist as she walks and her grip is firm… but also clearly delicate.

“I’m fine. Thank you for that. I would’ve gotten three shifts of closing if I did it…”

You mumble, walking around the bar as she leans in on the bar top, closer to you, that same smirk on her face.

“I’m y/n.”

You hold out your hand to her, taking the time in front of her to look her up and down. She was clad in a brown suit and matching hat, her long, wavy hair falling over her shoulders and around her face. For a cowboy—cowgirl?—she really was stunning.

“y/n…”

She smiles wider, shaking your hand firmly in hers. As soon as she’s done shaking your hand, she pulls it up and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. Her lips are surprisingly soft. And warm. It makes you blush a little.

“I’m Agatha. Agatha Harkness. It’s a pleasure, beautiful.”

She says confidently, very, very obviously flirting with you at this point. Although, based on her general… vibe, you assumed this wasn’t anything special.

Finally, after letting her hand linger for a moment, she lets go of you and removed her hat, leaving it on the bar. You almost missed the way her calloused hand felt in yours, even after only knowing her for a matter of minutes.

“So, how long have you been working here, doll?”

She asks, tilting her head to the side, her chin resting in hers hand. You can’t tell if she’s sizing you up or checking you out. Maybe a bit of both.

“About a year now. It’s not a bad gig. Other than the creepy dudes.”

You huff, glaring over at Herb once more before turning to look at Agatha again.

Okay, now she’s definitely checking you out. The way she’s staring… but you didn’t exactly seem to mind it. Really, your face flushed a little and you felt a sort of warmth spread within you.

“They’re a bunch of dicks, sweetheart. Although… they’re not wrong.”

She says lowly, tilting her head to the side.

“I hope you don’t mind me saying that. You must know how beautiful you are, especially with how much… attention you get around here.”

She shrugs, casually complimenting you like it was nothing. Not even your regulars complimented you this much.

“I- well, thank you. I… don’t mind it.”

You admit, smiling a little at her.

She smiles back, tapping her fingers on the wooden bar top. You couldn’t help but get a little distracted by her fingers. A weird thing to be distracted by… but damn.

“Well… it was lovely to meet you dollface, but I ought to be going. Hopefully i’ll see you around.”

She says, winking at you as she stands up, waving with a wiggle of her fingers as she walks out, her hips swinging with her steps. The doors to the saloon swing shut… and shes gone before you even got the chance to really talk to her.

You sigh as she leaves, and turn around to clean the bar top to busy yourself… until you spot her hat still on the bar top. Immediately, you grabbed it and ran out the door, looking for her… but she was already gone.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, contemplating what to do. Looking over the hat, you spot a small label on the inside… with an address! This couldn’t have been better. Now you had an excuse to see her again and she could get her hat back.

————ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

A few days later, when you finally had a day off, you decided it was the perfect time to deliver Agatha’s hat.

You put on your favorite outfit, making sure you looked as cute as you could for her.

It’s a surprisingly short walk from your house to hers. It was perfect. When you arrived, you knocked on the slightly worn wooden door, waiting with her hat in hand for her to come.

“Hey… dollface, what’re you doing here?”

She asks as she opens the door, leaning in the doorway, smirking down at you. Could a few days make someone even hotter?

“I have your hat. You left it at the bar the other day.”

You shrug, smiling as you hand her the hat.

She takes it from you and places it back on her head.

“That’s awful sweet of you… how about you come in for a drink? I’m not sure it can measure up to what you have at that little saloon, but it’s the company that matters, dont’cha think?”

She asks, motioning you to follow her inside. Now, you had a chance to look her over. She was only wearing a flannel and jeans with a white tank top. Much less… formal than the other day. And she pulled it off.

“You drink whiskey?”

She calls out, pulling down a bottle as you walk in. You come in to stand next to her in the kitchen, resting your elbow on her counter, watching her pour two glasses before you even answer.

“Here, dollface. Thanks for returning my hat.”

She smiles, handing you the small glass and clinking yours with hers. After you take a sip, she places her hands on your waist to guide you in front of her while she leans back on the counter.*

“You’re awful nice for hand-delivering this, sweetheart… you didn’t want to wait for me to come back to the saloon?”

She asks, tilting her head to the side while she holds you against her. The way her hands feel, gripping your waist, pulling you against her… it’s like you were putty in her hands. Instinctively, you place your hands on her chest, almost to keep yourself up straight just in case you get a little weak in the knees.

“I- uh, I wanted to make sure you got it. Just in case I wasn’t working.”

You make up an excuse, obviously not wanting to explain ‘I thought you were hot and I really wanted to see you without a gaggle of handsy men watching us’.

Agatha sees right through it. It’s obvious you’re lying. So… she runs with it, leaning in a little bit to tease you, pressing her lips to your jawline… then down your neck… to your ear. You definitely weren’t expecting that.

“That’s it? You’re too nice for your own good, dollface.”

She mumbles between kisses, looking up at you as she hears your breath hitch in your throat, noticing the way your grip gets a bit tighter in the fabric of her flannel.

“Not that I mind you coming over…”

“Well… maybe there was something else.”

You shrug, biting your lip to hold back a little moan when she kisses a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

She chuckles in response, running a hand up your side.

“There was? And what might that be?”

She asks sarcastically. She already knows the answer… she just wants to tease it out of you.

“I wanted to see you.”

You admit, running one of yours hands up to her neck, trying to guide her face to yours.

“To get to know you.”

Agatha smiles at that, smirking with that cocky smile on her face. She can infer the rest from there.

“Well, aren’t I lucky…”

She mutters, following the guidance of your hand and bringing her face at-level with yours, kissing you before either of you can think any better of it. Her lips are still as soft as they felt on your hand… except now you can feel the slight callouses and cracks. It only makes it better. She brings one hand up to cut your cheek, gently rubbing your ur face with her thumb as she other hand grips your hip tighter.

After a second, she pulls away, panting softly.

“How about we go back to my room, dollface?”

“That would be nice.”

You reply quickly nodding. Before you know it, she’s kissing you all over, pulling you pack to her room with her.

[101flavoursofweird]

Someone has probably mentioned this before…

But do you ever think about how Layton invited Aurora to explore the world with the Bostonius crew, as they collected the Azran eggs and Aurora’s memories… but then, Descole stole the Azran key and Layton had no qualms about chasing after him (with Aurora, Luke and Emmy in tow), and then they got caught by Targent at the Azran sanctuary, Emmy betrayed the gang, and Bronev stabbed Aurora in the heart, unleashing the Azran legacy.

Turns out Aurora survived that because she was a golem! But then she still died in the end after Layton refused to take the knowledge and power in the Azran sanctuary. I’m not saying this was Layton’s fault- the Azran were awful for viewing Aurora and the golems as disposable- but wouldn’t Layton still blame himself for Aurora’s death? He still apologises to her (his quiet “I’m sorry” to Aurora always gets me) and then he has to leave her behind because the sanctuary is literally falling apart around them and he needs to get Luke to safety?

A couple of months later, Layton solves the mystery behind a village filled with robots, rather like the golems if they had been given the chance to live a peaceful lives. Turns out the Golden Apple treasure they’ve been searching for is, in fact, Flora Reinhold, an orphaned girl, who’s spent years waiting up in her tower. (Flashback to the mysterious girl trapped in the ice.) They find the room containing the Reinhold family fortune. Layton, very clearly, gives Flora the choice about what she will do with the treasure and her village. Flora decides to leave the treasure and the village as it is, with the villagers continuing their daily lives…

And then, Layton takes Flora back to London with him and Luke. Maybe he would have done the same for Aurora, if he’d been able to save her. Maybe he finds some solace, thanks to Flora…

Still, Layton keeps leaving Flora behind whenever he and Luke go on dangerous adventures. Sometimes he doesn’t even tell Flora when they’re leaving. These fears aren’t completely unfounded - Flora is new to the big wide world and she does get kidnapped. Twice. Layton can no longer depend on Emmy to protect them. There are people who, like Emmy, will betray them. Clive kidnaps Flora and imprisons her in a glass cage in the Mobile Fortress.

I hope Layton had a long talk with Flora after PL3. Maybe he apologises for his treatment of her and admits that he’s still traumatised by the losses he’s faced. (Aurora, mainly, but Claire, Randall and Desmond count too.) Rather than keeping Flora in a metaphorical glass box, he needs to open up to her. Maybe spend time with her outside of adventures, introduce her to some new friends or encourage her to join a self-defence class. Something…

Then, hopefully, when Layton gets a letter from Luke in America, he’ll invite Flora to come with him and investigate the mystery…?

Or maybe Flora will decline, because she’s already got her own plans with some new friends she’s made. Who knows.

[pixiecactus]

himbo!gendry/dumb!gendry? i don't know him...

Look with your eyes, Arya wanted to shout at the men below. "Can't they see we're no lords or knights?" she whispered. "I don't think they care, Arry," Gendry whispered back. And she looked at Ser Amory's face, the way Syrio had taught her to look, and she saw that he was right.

.

The air was full of birds, crows mostly. From afar, they were no larger than flies as they wheeled and flapped above the thatched roofs. To the east, Gods Eye was a sheet of sun-hammered blue that filled half the world. Some days, as they made their slow way up the muddy shore (Gendry wanted no part of any roads, and even Hot Pie and Lommy saw the sense in that), Arya felt as though the lake were calling her. She wanted to leap into those placid blue waters, to feel clean again, to swim and splash and bask in the sun. But she dare not take off her clothes where the others could see, not even to wash them.

.

"If there's people, there's food," Hot Pie said, too loudly. Gendry was always telling him to be more quiet, but it never did any good. "Might be they'd give us some." "Might be they'd kill us too," Gendry said. "Not if we yielded," Hot Pie said hopefully.

.

Hot Pie agreed. "They told Yoren to open the gates, they told him in the king's name. You have to do what they tell you in the king's name. It was that stinky old man's fault. If he'd of yielded, they would have left us be." Gendry frowned. "Knights and lordlings, they take each other captive and pay ransoms, but they don't care if the likes of you yield or not." He turned to Arya. "What else did you see?"

.

Gendry squinted up at the sun. "Evenfall will be the best time to sneak in. I'll go scout come dark.""No, I'll go," Arya said. "You're too noisy."Gendry got that look on his face. "We'll both go." "Arry should go," said Lommy. "He's sneakier than you are."

.

"He's going to die, and the sooner he does it, the better for the rest of us. We should just leave him, like he says. If it was you or me hurt, you know he'd leave us." They scrambled down a steep cut and up the other side, using roots for handholds. "I'm sick of carrying him, and I'm sick of all his talk about yielding too. If he could stand up, I'd knock his teeth in. Lommy's no use to anyone. That crying girl's no use either." "You leave Weasel alone, she's just scared and hungry is all." Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once. Hot Pie must have grabbed her, like Gendry had told him. "She's no use," Gendry repeated stubbornly. "Her and Hot Pie and Lommy, they're slowing us down, and they're going to get us killed. You're the only one of the bunch who's good for anything. Even if you are a girl."

.

But Jaqen H'ghar still smiled. His garb was still ragged and filthy, but he had found time to wash and brush his hair. It streamed down across his shoulders, red and white and shiny, and Arya heard the girls giggling to each other in admiration. I should have let the fire have them. Gendry said to, I should have listened. If she hadn't thrown them that axe they'd all be dead. For a moment she was afraid, but they rode past her without a flicker of interest. Only Jaqen H'ghar so much as glanced in her direction, and his eyes passed right over her. He does not know me, she thought. Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I'm just a grey mouse girl with a pail.

.

"Never mind about Ser Lyonel." He drew her aside by the arm. "Last night Hot Pie asked me if I heard you yell Winterfell back at the holdfast, when we were all fighting on the wall." "Everyone was yelling stuff," Arya said defensively. "Hot Pie yelled hot pie. He must have yelled it a hundred times." "It's what you yelled that matters. I told Hot Pie he should clean the wax out of his ears, that all you yelled was Go to hell! If he asks you, you better say the same."

.

"Maybe there won't be a lot of them.""If there's two, that's too many for you and me. You never learned nothing in that village, did you? You try this and Vargo Hoat will cut off your hands and feet, the way he does." Gendry took up the tongs again. "You're afraid."

.

She heard them coming long before she saw them. Hot Pie was breathing heavily, and once he stumbled in the dark, barked his shin, and cursed loud enough to wake half of Harrenhal. Gendry was quieter, but the swords he was carrying rang together as he moved. "Here I am." She stood. "Be quiet or they'll hear you." The boys picked their way toward her over tumbled stones. Gendry was wearing oiled chainmail under his cloak, she saw, and he had his blacksmith's hammer slung across his back. Hot Pie's red round face peered out from under a hood. He had a sack of bread dangling from his right hand and a big wheel of cheese under his left arm. "There's a guard on that postern," said Gendry quietly. "I told you there would be."

.

By midday Hot Pie had begun to complain. His arse was sore, he told them, and the saddle was rubbing him raw inside his legs, and besides he had to get some sleep. "I'm so tired I'm going to fall off the horse." Arya looked at Gendry. "If he falls off, who do you think will find him first, the wolves or the Mummers?" "The wolves," said Gendry. "Better noses."

.

Dusk was settling as they stopped to rest the horses once more and share another meal of bread and cheese. "I'm cold and wet," Hot Pie complained. "We're a long way from Harrenhal now, for sure. We could have us a fire—" "NO!" Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.

.

"What about Hot Pie?" Gendry pointed. Hot Pie was already on the ground, curled up beneath his cloak on a bed of damp leaves and snoring softly. He had a big wedge of cheese in one fist, but it looked as though he had fallen asleep between bites. It was no good arguing, Arya realized; Gendry had the right of it. The Mummers will need to sleep too, she told herself, hoping it was true. She was so weary it was a struggle even to get down from the saddle, but she remembered to hobble her horse before finding a place beneath a beech tree. The ground was hard and damp. She wondered how long it would be before she slept in a bed again, with hot food and a fire to warm her.

.

"Aye, and good for you." The man smiled. "It's not every day I meet a lad with such a tasty name. And what would your friends be called, Mutton Chop and Squab?" Gendry scowled down from his saddle. "Why should I tell you my name? I haven't heard yours."

.

"Gendry," she called, her voice low and urgent. "They have a boat. We could sail the rest of the way up to Riverrun. It would be faster than riding, I think." He looked dubious. "Did you ever sail a boat?" "You put up the sail," she said, "and the wind pushes it." "What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?" "Then there's oars to row." "Against the current?" Gendry frowned. "Wouldn't that be slow? And what if the boat tips over and we fall into the water? It's not our boat anyway, it's the inn's."

.

honestly the fact that gendry is street smart and also happens to be very intelligent on his own, is hardworking and very loyal, has a quick wit, and has a good set of survival skills is why he really works well as arya's partner and most trusted friend. also he's not a pushover and i think that's very important as well.

(i'll be willing to argue that since he was an apprentice under tobho mott, he must know how to read and write some words, or at least know his numbers... not saying that he received the same level of education that arya did; that would be ridiculous, but i believe that he must have at least a little grasp of it)

[fewsystemsinonebody]

list by host as they made me do it lol:

Albert - he's funny and adorable, he reminds me that I can be childish no matter of the age

April - that he isn't a walking stereotype of goth (not that I dislike them but he doesn't let himself be put into a box)

Arnie - a lot of fun memories with him, he was always so helpful and I wish we were closer again but we try

Benji - he's so appreciative and full of surprises, also he's adorable as a dog

Brie - I know I can count on him no matter of his mental state, I wish I could support him more, he's a great big brother figure, he's also a walking meme and a complex person that deserves the best, I adore him

Brandon - it's hard to put into words but I just enjoy his presence and can't imagine our system without him

Dave - he's sometimes annoying, not in a bad way, but I know we have him on our side

Gru - because he's carefree, sometimes I'm jealous of him even if I want him to understand things more but then he goes sad and I'm worried...

Hakan - golden heart despite of people thinking he's a monster

Jack - my best mate twin that is always therer for me to hug the sadness outta me and spend time together

Jacob - he changed so much, I'm proud of him even if he falls sometime

Jimmy - my precious lil bro, he is such a prankster but it breaks my heart whenever he cries, he's very smart too despite of being one of the youngest of us

Jerry - he's no show off besides when he doesn't bite his tongue before saying whatever comes to his mind out loud lol but I see his silent help... thank you

Lio - the first one to fight for us on dc servers haha, became such a sunshine after a storm, love him singing as he makes funny faces every single time making me laugh

Lu - he finds himself a bad guy but I'm thankful for his chaotic nature saving us more than once, you don't have to be perfect <3

Marcel - sorry to say that but... you're a child in a big man and I know you wanna be seen as mature but I see you, you're trying your best even if sometimes you can't force yourself to act on something

Monty - the fact you always are in control even if you're not, I know he's overworked and I wish he rest more but if not him we would suffer a lot in the inner world

Nat - I know he's blaming himself for failing so many times and going against me but he forgets to see how many times he was there for me even if for minor things, especially when my dad fallen ill, I love you forever

Red - thanks to him we are more safe and I also would like him to enjoy life more as he seems interesting and hardworking

Pink - you're not ashamed, I know, you're also assertive and teach me to feel less guilty, I fought for you and always will hopefully

Marco - you quickly became a big part of our brain, at first such a grump but now you're so lovely like an uncle to me, I know that even if we disagree you are trying to protect us

Five - right hand of Marco, he can dominate him and take care of him despite of being so small, I'm glad Marco has someone who supports him all the way!

Nin - I know he means well, he's trying to do the best he can

Caspian - you're not a curse, I don't know you well but I saw you being a rebel, thinking for yourself and understanding too as you're open minded, you are such a good boy :D

Koda Nova - sun to the Nin's moon, light definitely

Bonny, Afsan and Mico - incredible trio, hard to explain maybe but you definitely won the place among us

Soprano - I brought you back because you took us away from therapist, you made us stand up for ourselves, you said "fuck the reputation" just for me to not fuse against my will, forever grateful, you're also not a bore ;)

Bronco - I know you think you're just a copy of Greg but I know you're so much more, you have to find out, take your time

Maylo - I forgive you, I know you have such a great responsibility from such a young age but you dropped everything and went against everything just to protect your favorite family, you're my father figure, dad no. 2 and I don't want you to leave again, missed you for months

Greg - you always make me laugh, world is empty without you here, your low loud noise when you sing Sanah and when you are here with me when I am scared of you know what, Brie needs you - don't leave again, ok?

Szymon - you're not just an anxiety, clumsiness nor gossip, you're a survivor, you're intelligent and you're very brave

Ursus - no idea who you are yet that much but I find you a cool character for sure hah

Bartek - I know you hate when someone says you're an anger holder, even now, but I want you to know it's not all you are but I'm still glad you can be at times as we have to finally be sometimes

Maciej - saved you today, look how much you've done good things in one day, I think you will prove your worth even more in the future, don't waste your chance as I would be sad to see you go :(

Key - you don't have to survive everything, I'm impressed but I know how hard it is, let's enjoy life a bit more too, alright?

Deer - you're one of the most optimistic ones, recently if not you it would end up really poorly for us, thx for helping me and Brie and you're also such a good writer like Nat and Brie

Nikita - my little pony, I wanna see you smile, I like you being here

Adam - despite of how you act sometimes you're one of the biggest heroes I knew, always ready to help/save/take care of others

Cyprian - because you're so extreme sometimes it reminds me we have rights and will always have each other's backs

Jeff - I know you're pseudomemories are complicated but I don't find you egoistic, I'm glad you are finally thinking about yourself putting yourself first and yet still care about others instead of stomping on them, I know it's super hard for you and you wanna hurt yourself but you hurt us with it too, don't take away my guilt on yourself so much

Ryszard - you're a fighter and a lover

Why - every version of you is great

Dagmar - we still need you even if you're so complicated

John - from the moment you appeared I had mixed feelings about you but you became such a memorable persona I think it would tear a huge part of us if you were gone, I slowly learn to love myself because of you, thanks

Topielec - you're such a good guy for so much you've been through and it reminds me this is who we are alltogether, we deserve better

Snow - you just appeared but I'm not scared of you, I get it man, take your time

question suggestion

what is one thing you like about each headmate? don’t have to answer for every headmate, answer in the way you’re most comfortable with. just some plural positivity :]

question 79:

[sunshinesickies]

Not proof read. Just wanted to get something out for the last day of Feveruary. Don’t worry I will catch up to the days I missed. Been a hell of a couple weeks, but hopefully life will smooth out enough soon for me to have some actual time to write! For now enjoy this fic of Vi on her period and Cait fussing over her. Based on two requests I had in my inbox for Vi on her period, one request by 🧸anon and another anon request. (Also I’ll add a picture later)

Feveruary Day 28— “Well it sounds to me like you need a bit of TLC”— CaitVi/Violyn

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of violence and prison

“Shit again?!” Vi groans as she curls into herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her abdomen. A uncomfortable pain was shooting through her once again and it made her simultaneously nauseous and incredibly irritated. She hasn’t felt like this in, well, years.

Vi tries to think back to when she last had her period only to come up with nothing. She’d been 15 when she was unjustifiably taken to Stillwater, so she’d known about and gotten them for a while. She can remember getting them a few times in prison, but she doesn’t want to think about that.

When you’re in a place like that, there was nothing provided to women during their cycles, only what they could scrap up, and even so, showing any sort of weakness usually meant you were to be beaten to a pulp later. But after her first few months there’s…nothing. She can’t recall having it again.

So yeah, periods in prison sucked, though Vi doesn’t understand why her cramps feel so bad this time. Maybe because they were often drowned out by the stinging pain of the guards’ sticks against her body, or maybe its because she’s grown a little weaker now that she’s living a cushy life in Kiramman estate.

Either way. This fucking sucks. Vi moans again as a fresh wave of cramps shoot through her. Her head is thumping, her body aches and she wants nothing more than for this to be over. Sometimes she hates being a woman.

Currently Vi is curled up on a cozy bed she found in one of the Kirammean’s smaller guest rooms. Yeah. Guest rooms. Plurals. She supposes this is one time she doesn’t think they’re a waste of space.

She’s trying to both hide from her girlfriend and from her own misery. If she could just fall asleep then maybe she could wake up and feel better, sleep off the rest of the pain. But every time she gets close to sleep, some random symptom (usually more cramps) keeps her up.

She knows she probably shouldn’t be hiding this from Caitlyn, but she can’t help it. Vi hates feeling weak. And right now she’s pretty sure she can’t even stand which is pissing her off to no end.

Taking in a calming breath, something Caitlyn has been having her work on whenever she gets frustrated, she squeezes her eyes shut tightly and tries counting as a way to distract herself.

She’s not sure how much time has passed, nor what time it even is. She’d woken up in the morning feeling terrible and somehow gotten herself out of the room without waking Cait up. The curtains in the guest room are drawn closed so tightly that the only light comes from the crack under the door to the hallway.

A gentle creak and the sound of soft footsteps soon pull Vi from her thoughts and she stiffens, hoping not to be found. She knows those steps.

“Violet? Are you in her darling?” Caitlyn’s gentle voice calls a second later and judging by the tone of her voice, Vi knows there’s no use to keep hiding. Plus her girlfriend’s voice was so soft, so warm, that Vi wishes she could sink into its invisible embrace.

“mmno.” Vi murmurs into the pillow she’s clutching and her body softens slightly when she hears an amused chuckle come from across the room.

“Vi? What are you doing in here?” Caitlyn makes her way over to the bed, squinting her good eye to try and make out Vi’s form curled up on the mattress. “Took me ages to find you.” She added, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Kinda the point.” Vi grumbled before curling more into herself with a slight wince, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by her attentive girlfriend.

“Are you alright, are you sick?” Caitlyn worries, a small crease forming between her brows.

“Mmfine.” Vi answers but Caitlyn doesn’t buy it for a second. “Vi.” She presses gently but in her no nonsense manner and Vi sighs deeply.

“On my fucking period. Don’t ’member it sucking this much.” She complains even though she hates admitting it. Caitlyn gives a sympathetic hum. “Poor love. Why didn’t you tell me, we’ve got painkillers and pretty much anything else you need.” She offers softly and the thought of having such access to these basic things makes Vi blink rapidly before any betraying tears can slip out.

“Don’t need ‘em. Please don’t make a fuss, Cait. Been through worse.” She answers curtly before she can break down. Caitlyn is slightly taken aback by the sharpness of her tone and she takes a breath, softening her response in her mind before her answers.

“I wont fuss, Vi, and I know you have but…well it sounds to me like you need a little TLC. Let me help? Please.” Caitlyn hums gently as she tucks a strand of hair away from Vi’s eyes.

“Okay…I guess it’d be nice to not feel this sucky.” Vi begrudgingly agrees and Caitlyn frowns as she cups Vi’s face. She isn’t overly warm but there’s some sweat around her temples that lets her know she really is miserable. Plus if she’s agreeing to take meds, Caitlyn knows she’s feeling worse off than she wants to let on. Sure periods are the worst, but Vi’s never mentioned having symptoms this bad, but come to think of it, she can’t remember Vi ever mentioning her period even though they’ve been together a few months now.

“Violet?” An inquiry strikes her attention. Vi hums for her to continue. “When was the last time you had your period?” She asks gently, curiously. Vi shrugs as she begins to sit up, groaning as she moves.

“Dunno…years, maybe?” Her response has Caitlyn completely taken aback this time. “That’s—well that’s interesting. I wonder if your body has been in too much stress for so long that it hasn’t had one, and now that you aren’t constantly watching your back or trying to just survive, that it’s hit you again with full force and then some.” She rambles her idea out loud and honestly, that makes sense to Vi.

She just wishes it weren’t so painful and annoying. “Well it better not be like this every month.” She sighs. “I’m sorry, Vi. Is there anything I can do to help?” Caitlyn hums and Vi looks up to meet her concerned, loving gaze.

“Maybe for now…could you just be with me?” Vi almost whispers, her tone bordering shy in a way that tugs at Caitlyn’s heart.

“Of course my love. There’s no where else I’d rather be. Come here, we can lay here for a bit, but soon I do think it best to get some meds in you.” She tries and Vi nods as Caitlyn moves to sit behind her. Vi settles closely into her girlfriend’s loving arms and for a moment, all the pain dissolves as she sinks into her hold. Caitlyn now has one hand slipped under her shirt, resting on her stomach as she traces soothing circles to her skin. Her other hand finds it way to Vi’s soft pink hair, her nails gently scratching her head.

“Thanks, cupcake.” Vi hums contentedly, the two comforting sensations quickly lulling her into a state of bliss. “Always, love.” Caitlyn leans down to press a kiss to her plush pink lips.

It doesn’t take long for Vi to finally fall asleep, feeling cozy and relaxed in her girlfriend’s loving hold. Periods be damned…though maybe it isn’t so bad. As long as Caitlyn is by her side, Vi feels as she can get through anything.