#im dying at the thought of having to work in half an hour

[thepitlanepress]

UM WHO ARE YOU? –

↳ lando norris + fem!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: something lando while i work on the smau !! also black and white pics of lando>>> a warning tho the sleep deprivation kicked in at about halfway through

your friend was late.

again.

this was the seven hundredth time michael had been late this week alone. seriously, its like he did it on purpose. you had been standing in the restaurant's carpark for the last half an hour waiting on you ride home.

it's late, it's dark, you're cold and tired. boy was the asshole in for it when he showed up. how could he leave a you out here in these conditions? it was practically snowing.

eventually michael's car turns up and slows to a stop in the car park, you think its weird how he keeps rolling a bit while you try and grab the handle but its they way he is, always taking the piss out of you on a daily basis.

he stops shortly after and you yank the door open piling inside and berating him. "seriously dude? you're half an hour late and i have been dying to bed. its almost snowing outside and you just leave...me..."

thats not michael.

sitting in the drivers seat is lando norris? the world famous f1 driver? what is he doing at your restaurant? no no better question, why the hell are you in his car you dumbass?

"um, who are you?" he asks sitting there, a confused and suspicious look on his face, he probably thinks your some crazy fan, which doesn't help the situation you're in.

"oh my god, i am so sorry, i got in the wrong car, this isn't happening. i'm so sorry, i thought you were my friend, gosh im so-" you begin to say but cut yourself off when you start to ramble. instead collecting yourself and bracing for the cold when you open the door.

"wait," lando's voice stops you, your hand on the door, ready to leave. "you can stay in here until your friend arrives," he says smiling, there is still the edge in his voice, and thats understandable, but he's being kind and letting you stay in the warm at least.

"thank you," you smile and sit back in the seat relaxing and closing your eyes basking in the warmth of the car, and the smell of lando's cologne. its not your fault its the only thing that you can smell.

"so can i ask; what were you doing out there? its snowing and you have no coat on, thats not okay," he asks his voice drifting to you.

"my friend michael was supposed to pick me up, but evidently he was late," you answer, opening your tired eyes and sighing. "he's always late these days. this is like the third time this week i've had to wait for him for like an hour after work."

"you're telling me you spend half an hour to an hour waiting for this guy to come pick you up from work? and he's always late?"

you nod not bothering to defend michael right now, he's making you wait with a stranger for over an hour, the last thing he deserves is your defence.

"what a shithead."

an unexpected laugh rumbles from your throat. "that's michael for you."

"thats michael? seriously?" lando's brows furrow and he looks disgusted by even the thought of it. "he's not your friend."

"what?"

"that boy is not your friend. a real friend would be here in the carpark early warming up your seat for you, waiting with a coat. not showing up hours late to a-" he looks out his window. "closed restaurant. god it keeps getting worse."

you sigh quietly and shake your head, "i don't know what to do, i don't have a car and calling an uber is not my favourite thing at this time of night."

"give me your phone," lando says suddenly.

"what?"

"can i borrow your phone please?" he repeats.

"sure?" you say pulling it out of your pocket, unlocking it and handing it over to him.

he types something quickly and smiles before handing it over to you again. you look down and on the screen is a new contact "lando aka your new best friend"

despite the circumstances you laugh, "what's this for?"

"text me when you finish work each shift and i'll come pick you up."

"what?"

"i'll pick you up or have someone trusted pick you up at the end of your shifts," he says simply.

"why?" you ask bewildered by his kindness.

"because i'm your new best friend duh."

you smile and he grins back at you. "come on i'll drive you home," he says putting his seatbelt on and gesturing for you to do the same.

"thank you," you whisper.

the drive home lulls you to sleep. maybe it was the quiet hum of the radio, or the warmth of the car or the company. whatever it was it sent you to sleep quickly, with a smile on your face and your heart full, you made a new friend.

you never did ask lando why he was in the car park that night. and he never did tell you how he had overheard your friend shit talking and complaining about you at a random club before he ran off with some girl.

and he never did tell you about how he very nearly dropped everything to go pick up the mystery girl who was depending on the worlds biggest asshole.

he never told you,

not even when he got down on one knee or when he stood up in front of all of your friends with you in a white dress.

he never told you how he almost fell in love on the spot when you burst into his car and then profusely apologised when you realised you made a mistake.

he never told you.

but he always picked you up, no matter where or when, he was there.

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

[miirohs]

sugarcoated

pairing: Mob Boss!Baby Daddy!Lando Norris x Fem!Reader wc: 2.7k cw: violence (implied but not against the reader), emotional manipulation, reader is highkey tweaking, Norris is a touchy ass, slight yandere undertones, this aint healthy an: i keep forgetting my irls have my blog lowkey ive been scared of posting bc of my parents. also hey ladies whats up im back out of my flop era! miss me miss me now you gotta kiss me!

He was always lingering somewhere, no matter where you went.

It was like no matter where you ran, he would always find you. Quite frankly, you were sure that was half the appeal to him, he was a powerful man and he spared no expense in letting you know. 

Sometimes, it was the little flowers he left on your doorstep in pristine condition, small notes in semi legible handwriting tied to the stems. Other times, it was the faint smell of his perfume that lingered as he’d find himself in front of your door at odd hours of night, begging you to let him in, as if he’d been dying at the steps of your door.

And like a fool, you finally cracked, you did let him in. You were charmed, though there was no doubt it made you uneasy, he’d pacified you with his dazzling promises to take care of you, so what could’ve been the harm?

You didn’t see him again after that night. In fact, you hadn’t seen him for weeks afterwards, then the games started as soon as you moved.

You’d run, he’d show up, you’d run again. 

It was a cycle. There was no leaving the city anymore either, his forces scattered across every crook and nanny of the city. You’d sealed your own fate with just one hospital visit, deliverance of the exact news you’d prayed to not get as you sat with a test in your hands, two pink lines string back at you. 

You had no idea how you even made it home that night.

It was in your best interest not to move anymore, but you weren’t even sure how to move forward. Your wallet wasn’t entirely drained, but you were. Any chance of moving away was immediately stomped out, leaving you with no choice but to firm up against him and his sugar coated words.

It wasn’t long before he found out, and when he did, he made sure you knew. You couldn’t tell for your life how he felt though.

At first, it was minor things, baby items you didn’t recall ordering appearing at your door. You chalked it up to clerical error, but something nagged at you as you inspected them. Then, more expensive items started to appear, everything a new mother could dream of, but it made you uneasy.

Sometimes he’d come along with one of these gifts, standing outside the door as you peered at him through the eyehole. You never answered, with the hope that he'd leave you alone, hoping to dissuade him from anything further.

Then the biggest shock came along, sitting across from you on the counter, as if it’d been there the whole time. You had no time to question, let alone think about it upon seeing the small note attached to the box. 

I hope you’ll love the gift exactly how I did when I saw it, xoxo.

You knew exactly what a diamond ring implied. Yet, you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would’ve sent it. The last thing he would’ve done was tie himself to you after trying so long to avoid you.

It’d been four days since the ring had appeared there, and you were simply hoping it was a fluke, no sign of him to back the ever present thought of the intrusion. 

You sat at the dining table, poking around your half-assed salad as you stared at the box. You could’ve sold it off, but there was no doubt someone would’ve found out and reported it back to him, leaving you to bear the brunt of his anger at your outright refusal. He’d never hurt you, but you saw everything in his actions.

The thought was more than enough to throw you off your meal, pushing away the plate with a pained sigh. Eating wasn’t the only thing that’d become harder in recent months, as working had left you with barely any time for yourself.

You were almost ready to doze off right there and then, had it not been for the series of sharp raps on the door, earning a grumble from you as you dragged yourself to the door with a mind full of insults to hurl at the person.

It hadn’t occurred to you to check who it was as you sleepily fiddled knob, only saved by the grace of the chain lock you’d forgotten to unlock.

“Hey there.”

Your blood froze, hazel eyes staring down through the crack of the door. There he was again, the devil himself, at your doorsteps as if he’d been waiting for you for a long time.

“Lando?” it came out as more of a whisper than anything else, voice cracking from a lack of proper use.

“It’s nice to see you too sweetheart,” He laughed, tilting his head at you to meet your eyes through the wide crack. 

There was a look in his eyes, although you couldn’t entirely decide if it was predatory or not as you averted your eyes, looking down at the handle of the door.

“What’s going on in there? Are you working late again? Though the doctor said it wasn’t good for you to be up this late with the baby on the way.”

You didn’t respond, trying to shut the door as subtly as you good, hitting something between the doorframe. Jitters ran down your spine when the door wouldn’t move further, looking down to see what it was. 

He’d wedged his shoe in between, the bastard. You looked back up, swallowing as he narrowed his eyes, the smile slipping off his face for moments to reveal thinly masked displeasure before disappearing entirely.

He knew what you were trying to do. You didn’t know if the guilt building up in your chest, or the possibility of what he could’ve done, scared you more. He’d never explicitly laid a hand on you, but the amount of torture was already enough as he lingered in your space.

“Someone has to keep the lights on,” You muttered, letting him nudge the door open. You were already fighting a losing battle, there was no way to keep him away but to hold him at an arm's length. That was how he’d gotten in the first time. He couldn’t fool you twice though.

“That’s why I've been sending you stuff, have you not gotten it?” He frowned. For a moment, it almost felt as if he were trying to be genuinely involved. You knew better.

You hesitated, looking back and forth between the chain lock and his face, though not much contemplating would be able to change the choice that’d already been made for you.

“No. I… donated it to some of the others at work. Needed it more than I did.”

There it was again, the indignancy in his eyes. 

“I got it for you though, was it not to your liking then?” His voice was eerily calm, but you knew exactly what it meant. Your hand instantly went up to the chain, almost as if it was moving on its own. Fear gripped at you. You had no idea what he was going to do next.

“So, you’re determined to be a single mother then? Do you know the kind of trouble it would get you and the baby into…” He raised his voice, pausing to see if you’d reconsidered.

Clearly a slight tremble in your hand was enough to convince him you’d finally stood down, a smirk gracing his already vicious face as you opened the door. You had no plan to, but it was hopeless to try and stand up without attracting attention, the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know what a shameless bastard he was.

“Just come inside please. Don’t let anyone see you any more.” You whispered, letting him through the threshold before you shut the door behind you.

“You’ve been busy, haven’t you? Just look at the state of your... apartment.” He shook his head, pushing at stray articles laying all over the floor with his foot, as if they were positively filthy. There were still boxes from your last move sitting around the living room, the only real piece of furniture unpacked being your bed and the table you were sitting at. 

You couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed as you walked into the kitchen, you’d never been this untidy before. It wasn’t any easier as Lando tailed you, only pausing outside the door frame, as if something stopped him from coming through.

“You should move from here. I don’t like this apartment, it’s in a sketchy part of town.”

“Well, I don't recall asking for your opinion, did i?”

You didn’t pay any mind to his poking, filling a random mug up as you stood at the sink before you shot back, standing in the dark of the kitchen as he walked away, presumably to shuffle through your personals again. You were thankful for a moment of silence though, head pounding from all that had happened today.

You stood there lost in thought, and he’d returned sooner rather than later, tone disapproving as he spoke to you once again.

“I wonder how on earth I'm supposed to convince you if this can’t stop you from trying to make it on your own.”

Only, he wasn’t at the doorway anymore, standing a little further back, waving a stack of letters to your face. The color of the envelopes, you immediately knew what the contents were.

Heat seemed to bloom across your face, rushing over to grab the letters from him. It was of no use, he could easily keep them out of your reach, but it didn’t stop you.

“Sweetheart, what happened to you? Looks like you’ve managed to stir up more trouble than you can handle, am i right?” You could hear the mock empathy in his voice, distorted by the rush of blood to your ears.

“You. You happened to me.” You hissed back at him, finally grabbing the papers and slinking backwards. There wasn’t any time to leaf through them, but the big bright red stamps were more than enough to drive you to tears when you saw them. But you couldn’t cry here. Not in front of him.

He didn’t respond to your remark, simply giving you a look of pity, watching with careful eyes as you tossed the pages back onto the table, taking your seat back. The tension was getting higher, only breaking when you finally looked at him, opening your mouth.

“You can’t just come in here, into my life,” you managed, voice quivering despite the resolution you’d come to, “And act like you own the place. You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“Don’t I?” Lando pushed himself off the opposing wall, getting closer. “I’m the one who’s been watching you struggle, I'm the one who’s trying to help you love.”

“And is this what help is then?” The thought tasted bitter. “Sending gifts isn’t helping, it’s… wrong.” 

Then adding in a whisper, “You know i can’t afford this.”

He paused, the righteous look he had faltering for a second. “You’re reading it all wrong. I’m just trying to provide for you and the baby, but you want to be stubborn. You won’t take my help, nor will you take my money.”

“I don’t want your money, please.” You begged mercifully, looking at him eye to eye since the first time he’d stepped through the door.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile that sent chills through you. “You should be thanking me. Not many get the same kind of priority you’re getting right now. I’m only trying to make it easier.”

“I would never do it with your filthy money, how many have you run over just to make a paycheck?” You murmured, pausing at the look on his face.

“At least I can provide for myself. I won’t ever have to scrap the bottom of a tip jar only to fail to make rent.” He replied smoothly, eyes narrowing at your attempt to rebuke him.

The implication hung heavy in the air, and you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. “I… can’t.”

The silence seemed to stretch thinner, and you could feel the burn in your eyes as you looked down at your clasped hands. You couldn’t even really tell when the first tear slipped. It kept coming, and you couldn’t stop it. You knew he was right.

“Hey, hey, none of that.” He said slowly, getting down on one knee to meet your eyes, taking your hand in his. “I was out of line for that, wasn’t i?”

You shook your head, covering your mouth to stop the sobs from escaping. He seemed remorseful, running a thumb over your knuckles as he looked at you with a mix of pity and something foreign.  “I know I upset you, but I'm still offering you a chance here. I wanna set it right between us.”

You didn’t argue through the tears, and he seized the moment. “You can struggle all you want but I can provide everything you need. I can make the baby my heir, I can give you the life you deserve... all you have to do is say yes.”

“Say yes to what? Marrying you?” The words seem to slip out of your mouth mid sob, and a look of amusement crossed his face as you slapped a hand over your mouth.

“Exactly,” he replied, trademark grin spreading across his face. “Imagine it. A beautiful ceremony, a life together. You’d have someone by your side who can ensure nothing threatens you. You’d be safe and sound. The baby would be my successor, guaranteed.”

“I barely even know you. You don’t know me.” You whimpered as he played with your hand, too loving, too suffocating.

He moved closer to your lap this time, bringing his hand up to wipe the tears, soft and tender than you’d known him to be. “You don’t have to be strong all the time, and I know it feels like you don’t know me at all. This is a big decision.”

“It’s not just a decision, Lando. It’s my life.” You hiccuped, despairing clawing at your insides. “How do I know you won’t just leave when you’re bored of me?”

“Didn’t I promise to take care of you and the baby?” He gently cupped your face, tilting it up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not alone in this. I’m here now, and I want to help.”

There was a flicker of recognition at his words at the back of your brain, raising voices of caution as you looked at him through glassy eyes. “And what if I can’t love you back like you want me to?”

Lando’s eyes darkened slightly, and he took your hands, pulling you closer. “You don’t have to love me right now. Just trust me.” His grip tightened, slightly painful as he held onto you. “Just let me show you what it means to be cherished.”

He leaned in, his lips almost brushing your ear, the movement making your breath hitch. “Let me in, stop thinking so hard.”

You could’ve stopped breathing, time slowing as he pushed the ring box into your lap.

He was never going to give you a choice, but what he said was ultimately true.

“Just think,” Lando urged as you squeezed your eyes shut, allowing him to play with your ring finger. “Think about what you could have.”

You’d never really realized how much his scent stuck till you until now, wrapping around you and lingering softly. A part of you was tempted to lean into him, to let him guide you into this new reality.

Even if you hadn’t made up your mind, he likely already had.

“Fine.”

Wordlessly, the cold metal slipped on the finger he’d been tracing moments before, bringing up your hand to kiss it.

“See? You’re already one step closer.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You could only look at him, dried tear tracks sticky against the sudden cold draft of the air.

“It’s a promise,” he said, his thumb brushing over the ring as if it had already tied you together. “I won’t let you go just like that.”

You shuddered. 

There was no escaping him now. You were tied to him.

A sugar coated nightmare, it seemed.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 3 ] || [ Chapter 5 ]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.6K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 4: John?

The lads sat in the common room of their floor at the base. Gaz and Soap had just finished a round of Gran Turismo on the PS4 they had set up, while Ghost sat at a table in the corner on his work laptop.

“Ye think the Captain’s married?” Soap mused aloud once he set down his controller on the coffee table.

“What kind of question-” Gaz quipped in confusion as he turned to look at Soap.

“He never talks about a missus Price...” Soap explained. “or second mister…” He added.

“That’s not a question you want the answer to.” Ghost said in a dismissive tone from his corner.

“Why not L.T.?” The Scot grumbled.

“People’s lives are private for a reason, Johnny.” Ghost said with a shrug and a tired look.

“Ye, but the Captain’s not like you, L.T.” Soap retorted with a chuckle.

“If anything, he’s worse, Johnny.” Gaz remarked as he looked at the two other men. “Simon’s reserved but Captain Price is pretty open.... except for that side of his.”

Soap went silent for a long moment, seeming to ponder what the other two were saying.

Then, the Scot shook his head. “If he was married, he’d be easier to deal with, I reckon.” He grumbled.  “And I think I’ve heard of him going out and getting laid before.” He added. “Last year, especially.”

“You’ve heard that too?” Gaz asked as he bounced a bit in his seat and straightened up, intrigued. “Fuckin’ hell, I thought it was just me. I’ve been dying trying to keep my mouth shut about it!” Gaz added.

“So d’ye think he hasn’t gotten laid lately, then?” Soap asked. “He’s been bloody moody since early last year with Shepherd and Graves…” He added.

“Oh, he definitely has a major case of blue balls.” Ghost remarked, drawing both the other men’s attention to him and causing their jaws to drop.

“L.T.!” Soap said with a surprised chuckle. “That’s bad of you! You’re not being the Captain’s good ol’ boy…” He joked.

“Oh, piss off. Just saying. It’s obvious the boss’ pent up.” Ghost remarked. 

“I say we get him laid.” Soap remarked with an impish expression.

“And how do you suggest we do that? We hire him a prostitute?” Gaz asked with raised brows.

“No? Obviously not!” Soap said with a head shake. 

“Good, can’t imagine the Captain appreciating that very much.” Gaz added.

“No, but we’ve gotta think of something! He’s impossible to deal with.” Soap remarked.

“I’ve told ‘im to his face and he asn’t done shit to fix it yet.” Ghost remarked from the corner.

“You’re kiddin’? L.T. you told him to get laid?!” Soap gasped in surprise.

“No, I’ve told ‘im to get ‘is ‘ead on straight.” The Mancunian quipped and shrugged, turning his attention back to the laptop in front of him.

“What about a dating app profile?” Gaz suggested and the Mancunian and the Scot both turned to look at Gaz with intrigued eyes.

“I’m getting my spare phone!” Soap announced as he got up and rushed out of the room.

“He has a second phone?” Gaz asked Ghost who simply shrugged.

-

It took almost an hour and a half and a few beers in their systems (thank God they were on break for the evening), but eventually tey had set up a fake profile for Price.

Sure, the pictures were grainy at best, but they worked well-enough. Courtesy of Soap having a habit of taking covert pictures for his snapchat and sometimes catching Price in them... (and other times just taking pictures of the man directly).

It had been mostly Soap and Gaz doing the work, however when it came down to writing the bio, Ghost gave quite the helpful input… By the time they were done, it genuinely looked like it had been Price writing it.

The lads high-fived each other. Even Ghost joined in! He looked to be in a good mood… Maybe it was the beer, or maybe something he was doing on his phone. Gaz had spotted him texting someone and chuckling to himself.

As Soap began swiping mindlessly across all the pictures of people on the Swiping page, Gaz sat next to him, peeking over his shoulder.

“People are going to read the part on the bio that says we are not Price, right? Because I don’t want ‘em to feel like we’re catfishing.” Gaz remarked.

“Don’t worry! If they don’t, we’ll unmatch!” Soap announced as he kept moving his finger repeatedly and quickly to the right. He was liking everyone, in order to get a fairly good sample size for Price. They didn’t know what kind of person the Captain liked after all…

Just as Soap’s finger is slowing down due to the amounts of profiles he liked… He spots it. And then Gaz does.

“No way!” Soap interjects. “I know this person! I matched with them on my own account!” He remarks as he clicks on your profile.

“Bloody hell, me too.” Gaz remarks, causing Soap’s head to turn and his jaw to drop.

“Wait, ye’ve got a Tinder too?” Soap asks to which Gaz nods.

“Yeah, to get laid.” He says with a shrug and a mischievous smirk. “Our chat was bloody funny.”

“Mine too!” Soap quips and chuckles. “Had a right laugh with them earlier.”

“Let me see?” Ghost asks, curious, and he slides over, bending over the back of the couch to look over Soap’s other shoulder.

“Small world. They matched with me too.” He remarks dismissively.

Both Gaz and Soap turn to look at Ghost like they’ve seen, well, a ghost.

“YE’VE GOT AN ACCOUNT TOO, L.T.?!” Soap shrieks, louder and more high-pitched than a grown man with his natural timber should.

“I’ve got a life, MacTavish.” Ghost retorts.

“No, we know that, sir.” Gaz says softly. 

“Just didn’t think ye’d be on dating apps.” Soap nods.

Ghost simply shrugs and pulls back, walking back to his corner, in an armchair which he took as his own in the last hour.

“Was that who was makin’ you laugh earlier, Simon?” Gaz adds.

Ghost simply gives him a look that can be interpreted as a tired ‘Yes’, before he looks away to keep working on his laptop.

“Should we Like their profile, then?” Soap asks with a chuckle.

“Uh… yes?” Gaz adds, laughing along. “I can’t wait to see their reaction to it being us behind the screen.” He adds.

Soap clicks the green heart button to Like your profile and then immediately hops on DM once it presents a Match. Before he can write some nonsense, Gaz steals the phone from his hand and starts typing on the cracked screen.

John: well hello again you: hello? you: how can it be again though? you: never saw your 'captain' before in my life. John: no but uve seen US John: sorry! allow us to introduce ourselves formally

“Sir, does your profile have you listed as Simon?” Gaz asked as he raised his eyes from the screen. Once Simon nodded, he resumed typing.

John: our names are kyle john and simon

“Johnny, not John, mate.” Soap corrected Gaz right after he hit send.

John: johnny* sorry

They could only imagine the look on your pretty face as you realized who they were.

you: get out! you: no way!!!!! you: all three of you?! John: ye you: wait is this what simon meant when he called himself a traveling consultant? is he a soldier like you?

“L.T. they’re already accusing ye of lying to them.” Soap quips, causing Ghost’s eyes to shoot up from his laptop.

“Lying? Huh?!” He asks in confusion as he puts his laptop aside and rushes over to the couch. He sits on the armrest next to Gaz so he can look at the screen.

He then snatches the phone from Gaz’s hand, pulls off his right glove, and types a reply with now bare fingers on the cracked screen. 

John: I wasn’t lying. John: I just omitted the truth. I don’t go about bragging about my career. you: sure sure sure ‘John’. you: sooo you: is this some kind of weird joke? are you playing a prank on me all matching me individually and then using a fake account?

Gaz snatched the phone from Ghost again.

John: kyle here and no John: we really want our boss to get laid John: he’s miserable you: well im not the one night stand type really you: its why i didnt accept to get together with any of you.

“L.T. YOU TRIED TO SLEEP WITH THEM?!” Johnny asked with another gasp.

“So did you!” Ghost retorted.

“I never thought you were the type!” Soap said with a smug little smirk on his lips.

“Oh piss off, they rejected us all.” Ghost retorted. “So it shouldn’t matter.”

As they kept bickering, Gaz remained laser-focused on texting you and, just as they got heated, he spoke up: “They accepted.”

“Wait wha-” Soap said as he whipped his head down to look at the screen, just narrowly dodging Gaz’s nose and Ghost’s head.

“Bloody hell they did!” Soap yelped as he pulled his head back.

“They wanna go out with Price and ‘see where it goes because he seems like a nice man that needs a break from the three of you��?” Ghost read from the DMs on the screen.

“Ow.” Soap quipped in mock-injury.

The three men raised their eyes and met each other’s, before all their faces morphed into confusion.

“Did they… Did they just reject all three of us for a man that isn’t even aware of this account?” Soap asked aloud, undoubtedly voicing the thoughts in all their minds.

“It seems that way.” Simon said as he looked away.

They all went quiet, each of them quietly contemplating all their life’s choices that led them to the moment they got rejected for a person that isn’t even ‘real’.

After long minutes, Gaz spoke up. “How are we going to tell the Captain he has a date?”

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[danrifics]

good morning i have slept a total of 2 hours here’s my spoiler breakdown for terrible influence antwerp

they start by playing a text to speech voice who welcomes us and the straight boyfriends and the dads (they’re a bit obsessed with the dads i’ll be real) the voice tells us if we film she’s gonna sue are asses. text to speech lady she is an icon

dnp come out and they’re like yo this is cool it’s the first show, you guys are gonna see what we’ve been up to and then they’re like it’s the first show so we can use you guys to decide if we change anything

they they’re like there’s probably people in the audience who don’t really know us so they do a 15 years of dan and phil lore breakdown with dolls of themselves in little set of iconic dnp locations (made by pj and sophie btw) they put these sets in a table in front of a camera and it shows on the big screen, (for 1 section of this the screen doesn’t work for the first part lol) also phil makes the dolls kiss and they also make the dolls hump the breakfast bar cos of course they do

i can’t remember what happens next or maybe it jumps right into the next thing i mention

they play a game show called role model or no-model which is a madlibs style game where you have to decide if the version of dan and phil the audience creates is a role model or not these are compared to real dnp. we had homophobic furry lawyer dan and linguistics dr phil wo has a thing for hamsters. just an fyi for this dan is really good at hearing what the audience is saying and phil is not at all and im pretty sure he made his up cos he couldn’t understand what we wanted

okay so after this iirc they start talking about the youtube landscape and what they’re gonna do after tour and how to keep people entertained and they go on a little adventure through different genres of youtube like minecraft lets plays, vtubers and then they pretend to be mr beast and pretend to give away a bunch of stuff that they don’t have, they cure us of any mental health issues and they cure us from being gay <3

then they decide to have a boxing match cos obvs that’s what youtubers do, they ask us to cheer for whoever they want to win and it has cool intro to it! i’ll be honest this boxing match goes on for entirely too long like it spans the end of the first half and the start of the second but they have like choreographed fighting and OMFG it’s very gay and like suggestive and they do many times look like they’re gonna have sex 😂 like one of phils moves is to hit dan with his ass while dan is holding him from behind so… yeah. anyway dan thought he won ours and then phil knocked him out with a tv, as he should!! also before they end the first half they’re having an insult match where phils tells dan hes gonna burn his house down only for dan to say they live in the same house and i was dying it was so funny, phil also calls dan a dickhead and this is where he also calls him a cunt and that’s how the first half ends. oh also phil has a fake 6 pack on and that’s the $300 dollar silicone btw

okay second half after dan is dead they have a sincere moment and then they’re like you guys keep telling us you want load of long unedited content and they ask us to tell them a topic to monologue about and someone shouts feet and they rant about feet lmao phil excitedly tells everyone he has a better wiki feet rating than dan

then dan goes on a rant about being discriminated against as a millennial (can’t remember how we got there) and phil gets bored and starts watching subway surfers and i’ll be real honest as a gen z i instantly got distracted by subway surfers and didn’t listen to what dan was saying (that was the point tho) and phil keeps turning up the volume and dan gets mad and he storms off

we have a nice sincere moment with phil but idk what tf it was cos neither did phil 😂

then suddenly a voice, oh here she comes, she asks if we’re ready to confess our sins and out comes sister daniel, everyone fucking loses it, if you heard me screaming so loud no you didn’t.

anyway they read some confessions (phil is father philip) and they read out a few including one from @dnphobe !!! phil has a water gun that he didn’t have when he was meant to and couldn’t find and then found and he was spraying it at people to cleanse them of their sins which is what they meant by people being in the splash zone btw also phil sprayed it at dan it was kinda cute

okay so they say they need to go and get changed and they head off stage and there’s a gag where they leave the microphone on and they’re purposely making it sound sexual and it’s so funny and then dan comes out and phil doesn’t cos he’s struggling with his leather fucking trousers that was a completely unscripted part for sure

then they talk about the hiatus a bit and how dan left us and they keep calling us their family and brb while i cry my eyes out

then they pull out a fucking banger of a song, like i can’t even explain to you how good it is, it has a fully like kpop style dance to it that im gonna fucking learn lmao and dan was so good at it like im not even kidding that man was pulling moves!! phil was doing great too btw but he definitely wasn’t as confident in it as dan was but damn it’s the best song yet imo!!

also i forgot to write the conspiracy bit because i forgot where in the show it is but on one of them they were trying so hard to make us say the opposite one but we were literally forcing tour bus on them and yes they confirmed they shared a bed on that tour bus!! and they played it off like its okay for friends to do that (cos it is) but they way they said it was that thing again where they blur the line a little so we know what they actually mean but still pretend they mean something else

okay some little things i remember that i didn’t write above

- “i can’t imagine my life without you”

- “it’ll be 15 years in december” (if you know you know)

- the absolute silence after they confirmed the bed thing cos none of us were actually expecting it

- dan had to prompt phil a little to remind him what to say next but it was very cute

- they kept looking at each other in *that* way

- phil lied to us about when norman died cos he had norman merch coming out

- sleepless night with phil 3 is fake!!

- they showed *that* video of phil asleep on the tour bus

- there were multiple times where i thought they’re gonna kiss right now???

-phil called dan kinda sexy

- ALL IS FORGIVEN, ANYTHING FROM THE LAST WE MIGHT HAVE DONE IS FORGIVEN THEY LOVE US WE ARE A FAMILY THEY ARE LITERALLY OUR DADS

[theonottsbxtch]

it's ok im ok | LN4

an: it's ok im ok by tate mcrae is out and i had this idea the minute i heard it the first time so i've been writing this the last two hours. this was very rushed so please be nice, slight oscar x yn (no use of yn)

written and smau

face claim: pintrest and queen t8

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oh he's so perfect

**coments have been restricted**

When she’d first broken up with Lando, she’d been distraught. He was the love of her life, or at least she’d thought. For over a month, she’d spent every passing moment reminiscing on all the good parts she could remember of the relationship, but as that month came to a close, the fog began to lift. 

There was no good.

At first there was, there had been the dates, the gifts, the flowers and the continuous travelling alongside her. The texts of ‘I miss you’ and ‘I love you’ at least once a day had diminished into a ‘gn’ and ‘gm’ eleven months into the relationship. 

The affection that once felt so constant had turned into something routine, something obligatory. She’d ignored the signs at first, brushing off the growing distance as just a phase, believing things would eventually go back to how they were in the beginning. But they didn’t.

She remembered the nights when he would cancel plans at the last minute, claiming he was too tired from work, yet his social media was filled with stories of nights out with his friends. The times he’d forgotten important moments — her promotion at work, her 21st birthday, their anniversary. Every time, he had a perfectly reasonable excuse that she had willingly swallowed, desperate to hold onto the image of the man she’d thought he was.

The excuses, the half-hearted apologies, and the lack of effort slowly chipped away at her, until one day, she woke up feeling emptier than ever, wondering where she’d gone wrong. She’d blamed herself, convinced she was being too demanding, too needy.

But now, with some distance, she could see it all for what it was: she’d been in love with an idea of him, a projection of her own desires. The real Lando was far from the prince charming she had made him out to be. He was just a guy who knew how to charm his way through life, good at saying the right things but never following through.

She realised now that the man she’d loved never truly existed; he was a mirage, built from wishful thinking and her own desperation to be loved.

So when Mclaren invited her to celebrate the new season, she took it knowing she was a mature adult, after all he’d moved on. So could she.

“She’s posted him again,” Her best friend spoke from the sofa where she’d been waiting for her to touch up her makeup. “Caption is ‘Oh he’s so perfect’ with some flowers and a teddy bear.”

“Poor girl.” She muttered to herself as she applied some gloss. “She’s still in the honeymoon phase,”

Her best friend hummed and laughed as she continued to scroll through the photos.

Unlike many ex girlfriends, she didn't hate the new girl, no if anything she pitied the next girl and the inevitable one after that, it wasn’t their fault that he acted like the perfect gentleman at the start.

She sighed, putting the lip gloss down and meeting her own eyes in the mirror. "I mean, she’s just like I was," she added, more to herself than to her friend. "I remember thinking he was my perfect match, too. All those little gestures, the compliments, the way he always seemed to know exactly what I wanted to hear. I fell for it, hard."

Her friend glanced up from the phone, a knowing look in her eyes. "Yeah, but you saw through it eventually. And you got out."

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah, I did. And I’m not gonna pretend that was easy, but I did it. I’ve just gotta hope she figures it out sooner rather than later."

Her friend grinned. "I bet you’re dying to go up to her tonight and give her a friendly warning."

She laughed at that, shaking her head. "Oh, no. I’m not getting involved unless the opportunity comes up . She won’t listen anyway; no one does when they’re in the thick of it. Besides, it's not my place."

Her friend tilted her head, watching her closely. "You’re really okay with all this?"

She paused for a moment, considering her answer. Was she really okay? Seeing those photos had stirred something in her, but it wasn’t jealousy. It was more like a dull ache, a memory of a wound that had already healed. "I think so," she said finally, smiling a little. "I mean, it still sucks to see, but not in the way it used to. I guess... I’m more relieved than anything. Relieved that it’s not me anymore."

Her friend nodded in approval. "That’s growth, babe. And tonight, we’re gonna celebrate that growth with some champagne and dancing. No thinking about exes, just fun."

She laughed, grabbing her bag and turning to face her friend. "Deal. Now, let’s get out of here before I change my mind."

They headed out the door, a cool breeze greeting them as they stepped into the evening air. As they walked to the car, she glanced at her phone one more time, catching a glimpse of Lando’s face on her social media feed. His arm was around the new girl, that same easy smile on his lips, the same charm in his eyes. But this time, it didn’t sting. It didn’t make her chest tight or her stomach drop. She felt...nothing.

“His teammate was fitter anyway,” At first she hadn’t heard it but when she did, she turned to face her friend, “What? I’m saying what we all saw.”

“I’m not stirring that pot.”

“You’re not but I am.” Her friend laughed as she pulled out of the parking lot, “Think about it, he’ll be there tonight, freshly broken up. Maybe you two can bond over that.”

Her eyes widened as she looked at her friend, “He broke up with his girlfriend?”

“I knew you were interested!”

She rolled her eyes, feeling a flush creep up her neck. "I’m not interested," she insisted, but the hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips, betraying her. "It’s just… surprising, that’s all."

Her friend shot her a knowing look. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen how you look at him. All those race weekends, sneaking glances when you thought no one was watching. You can’t deny it.”

She laughed, a light, genuine sound she hadn’t heard from herself in a while. "You’re imagining things. Besides, just because Lando's teammate is single doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into something new."

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Who said anything about jumping? Maybe just dip a toe in. Have fun for once. You deserve it."

She hesitated, biting her lip as the car sped through the city streets. "I don’t know… it just feels too soon."

"Too soon? Or maybe the perfect time?" her friend challenged. "It’s not about replacing Lando. It’s about letting yourself feel good again."

She stared out the window, watching the city lights blur into a kaleidoscope of colours. Her friend was right. She had spent so long grieving over Lando, replaying every mistake and wondering where she went wrong. Maybe it was time to let someone else in, even just a little.

“Okay," she finally said, her voice steady. "If I see him tonight, I’ll talk to him. No expectations, no pressure. Just… a conversation."

Her friend grinned. “Now, that’s the spirit. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find out he’s more than just a pretty face.”

She laughed again, this time with more ease. “Or maybe I’ll find out he’s just another disaster waiting to happen.”

Her friend chuckled, “Only one way to find out.”

By the time they’d pulled up to the club and handed the keys to the valet, there was a solid blush on her cheeks. After all, she had spent the rest of the car ride looking at Oscar’ photos. 

She felt the bass of the music underneath her feet as she and her friend handed their ID’s to the bouncer, waiting as he checked their names off the list.

“Right let me find some virgin cocktail, you go find Oscar.”

“Absolutely not, I’m getting a drink first.”

When they reached the bar, they eyed up the drinks board, everything seemed so tempting. Starting easy she ordered herself a vodka coke. No point trying to talk to Oscar if she was sloshed. 

“Your replacement, 12 o’clock.” She heard her friend shout over her drink.

She turned around, subtly glancing in the direction her friend had pointed. There she was, the new girl — bright-eyed, smiling, and looking like she had the world at her feet. Her heart clenched for a moment, a tiny pang of something she didn’t want to name, but then she felt it ease just as quickly. It wasn’t jealousy; it was almost… nostalgia.

The girl was everything she remembered herself being — full of hope, dressed to impress, standing a little too close to him as if she needed to mark her territory. And there he was, Oscar, just as charming as ever. Leaning in, whispering something that made the girl laugh loudly, the kind of laugh that begged for attention.

Her friend nudged her side. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said, swallowing a sip of her drink. “Just feeling pity, really.”

“Well,” her friend prompted, “you gonna say hi or what?”

She took a deep breath. “I think I’ll let them have their moment. Besides, I’m not in the mood to play the ex-girlfriend card tonight.”

Her friend snorted. “What, you don’t want to ruin their Instagram-perfect night?”

She grinned. “Tempting, but no.” She took another sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol begin to relax her nerves. “Let’s dance, yeah?”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

Grabbing her phone off the bar and shoving it down her bra, she took her friend’s hand and brought her to the middle of the dance floor, some Flo Rida song making the walls shake. 

Moving to the beat of the music, she looked as her friend began to dance on her, pulling her hand on her hip as they danced in sync enjoying the moment and ignoring the fact that she could see Lando looking at her and not his new girlfriend.

She felt the bass thump through her chest, each beat syncing with her pulse as she lost herself in the music. Her friend’s laughter was infectious, and she couldn’t help but grin, the tension in her shoulders easing as she swayed to the rhythm.

Lando’s gaze was heavy on her, almost burning through the crowd. She could feel it, a mix of curiosity and maybe a hint of regret. She didn’t look directly at him — not yet. Instead, she let her movements become more carefree, twirling with her friend and raising her arms in the air as the chorus hit. The whole room seemed to pulse with the beat, and she revelled in the feeling of letting go, if only for a moment.

Her friend leaned in, her voice barely audible over the music. “He’s staring,” she said with a sly smile.

She shrugged, flipping her hair back with a casual flick. “Let him,” she replied, her voice loud enough to be heard over the music but still cool and collected.

And then, on a whim, she spun around, facing him across the crowded room. Their eyes met, and she held his gaze for a heartbeat longer than she intended. His expression was unreadable — a mix of surprise, maybe a flicker of something else. But she didn’t want to decipher it; she didn’t care to.

Instead, she raised her drink in a mock toast, a sly smile playing at her lips, before turning her back to him again. She felt a surge of confidence, a quiet thrill in knowing she no longer needed his validation or attention. She was here to have fun, to enjoy the night, not to relive old memories or make a scene.

Her friend noticed the exchange and leaned in again. “You sure you don’t want to give him a piece of your mind?”

She laughed, a real, genuine laugh that felt good in her chest. “Nah, he can watch if he wants. It just shows he’s not as over it as I am.”

She turned her attention back to her friend, giving her a playful spin. “Anyway, I have a much hotter date.”

This time her friend laughed loudly, “Uh huh you do, I’ll go get us refills.”

“I’ll come with,” she offered, even though she was beginning to feel herself in the middle of the crowd.

“No, you just stay here.” Her friend gave her a final wink before disappearing into the crowd, leaving her alone on the dancefloor. The bass of the music pulsed through her, making her heart race in time with the beat. That’s when she spotted Oscar — tall, confident, with a warm smile that seemed to cut through the throng of people. He was one of the few people who had been genuinely kind to her since she’d met him, and there was a sense of magnetic energy between them.

He extended his hand with a charming grin. “May I have this dance?”

Without missing a beat, she placed her hand in his, feeling a thrill of excitement. They moved closer, the heat of their bodies melding together as the music swelled. He guided her into a slow, sensual dance, their movements smooth and synchronised. His hands rested lightly on her hips, and she could feel the tension of his touch, a mix of confidence and tenderness. Overlapping her hands on his, she tightened his grip on her hips.

As they danced, she felt a rush of freedom, the worries and old feelings from earlier dissolving into the rhythm. She glanced to her side and caught a glimpse of Lando across the room. He was watching them, his expression a mixture of surprise and frustration. For a moment, their eyes locked, and she saw the flash of jealousy in his gaze. She raised an eyebrow slightly, a smirk playing on her lips as if to say, “Look at me now.”

Returning her focus to the Oscar, she let herself be completely immersed in the moment. His touch was intoxicating, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her feel desired and cherished. They moved together effortlessly, each step and sway adding to the intimate connection they were building on the dancefloor.

Oscar leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You look amazing tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “I mean you always have, but tonight things are different aren’t they?”

She shivered at his words, the tension between them palpable. She responded with a soft laugh, her fingers trailing up to his neck as she whispered back, “They are, aren’t they?”

As the song reached its climax, they pulled closer, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both exhilarating and soothing. She let herself be lost in the sensation, feeling a newfound sense of liberation and sensuality. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own private dance.

The song ended, but they stayed close, their breaths mingling. “I’m going to the bathroom, but I’ll see you here for round two?” she said, trying to be heard over the music.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he replied with a teasing smile, his voice like velvet. She wanted to linger in his warmth a moment longer, but she knew she needed to regroup. The minute she snapped out of her trance, she found the bar and her friend, dragging her to the nearest bathroom.

Finding the handicap stall, she pulled them inside and slumped against the wall, grabbing her drink out of her friend’s hand.

“Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice a mix of exhilaration and happiness.

“I am not Oscar, but I’m sure he would if you asked nicely,” her friend quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

She let out a tired laugh, shaking her head. “Not what I meant. I just… I don’t know. It’s weird being back in this place. Wow. That dance - I.”

Her friend gave her a knowing look. “At least give me a heads up if I’m going to drive home alone tonight.”

As she took another sip of her drink, she heard the bathroom door swing open, followed by the sound of animated giggling. It was Lando's new girlfriend, chattering excitedly with a friend. Her voice carried through the thin bathroom walls, brimming with admiration.

“Oh my god, he’s just so perfect!” she gushed. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. He’s got everything—charm, looks, and he’s so sweet. I feel like I’m in a dream.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Are you okay?”

Suppressing a laugh, she stood up and pushed open the door to the cubicle. As she emerged, she locked eyes with Lando’s new girlfriend in the mirror.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice smooth yet edged with cool detachment. “So, which version of him is perfect, the off-season version or the regular season?”

The new girlfriend blinked, visibly startled. Her smile faltered, and she looked momentarily confused. “Uh, I don’t really understand what you mean.”

She could sense her best friend trying hard not to laugh behind her. Shrugging lightly, she maintained a mix of sympathy and detachment in her gaze. “Just a thought. Sometimes people have different sides to them, you know? What you’re seeing now might not be the whole picture.”

Before the new girlfriend could respond, her friend besides her chimed in . “You’re just jealous.”

She turned, a knowing smile on her lips. “Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. I’m perfectly fine. After all, I had him first.” Without giving the new girlfriend a chance to reply, she gently but firmly guided her friend out of the bathroom and back into the club.

As they re-entered the lively atmosphere, her friend grinned at her. “That was hot.”

She chuckled, feeling a sense of empowerment and closure. “Glad you think so. Let’s enjoy the rest of the night.”

ynprivate just posted

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it's ok im ok

**comments have been restricted**

[luvyeni]

𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ! ㅤ ㅤ𓂃 ㅤ박성훈

CHAPTER SEVEN. close proximity ... 「 materialist 」

ㅤ୨ৎ no one in your friend group couldn't understand why you and sunghoon stopped being friends after freshman year of college; they all chalked it up as for reasons only you and he knew about , you and sunghoon couldnt get along, and when he threatened to tell your brother something your deepest darkest secret you called him a virgin who couldn't read to your 24k fans and the name spread throughout the campus…

ㅤ𓂃 🎞️. chapter warnings. language, suggestive thoughts ( both of them are horribly down bad for each other ) word count. 1725

tapping your foot impatiently on the ground as you waited for the boy to answer the phone. “noona?” you scoffed. “don't noona me won , he's an hour late.”

“i know , i know he was caught up at work , he said he was on the way now.” your brother said , trying not to piss you off even more. “i told you i wasn't gonna wait , i didn't even want to do this.” you said. “yeah well now you don't have to worry about groceries.” he said. “i don't need the money won.” you never needed the extra money. “yeah well i figured you didn't since you were doing so well at the salon.” you hummed , you hated lying to him but you knew he'd judge; not to mention tell your parents. “i can always get a job.” he said.

“i told you, pay attention to school, i got you , im not struggling won.” you said. “just need him to hurry up , what if i needed to do something.” you questioned. “noona , you have his number , call him.” you scoffed. “it will be a cold day in hell before i ever call him , you'd have to be dying.”

“so me dying will get you to be cool again?” he said. “no , but i’d be good at your funeral , for your sake.” he gasped , you smiled. “rude , you two used to be inseparable , until you randomly called him a virgin who couldn't read.” you sighed , you never told him what happened , the real reason you and sunghoon stopped being friends. “i still don't understand.”

“understand what won?” you asked. “why you said that , it was so sudden , what happened?’ he curiously asked. “won some people change , things just change , we just drifted apart when we started college , do you still talk to anyone else from highschool ?” you asked. “besides the guys? no.”

“exactly.” you said. “yeah but the — won drop it , just call him and tell him to get his ass over here.” he whined. “fine why are you so mean.” you rolled your eyes hanging up. you hated how overbearing your brother could be sometimes; you loved but sometimes you questioned who was the oldest and who was the youngest.

it had been a while since you and sunghoon had been alone; most of the time the two of you hung out is when you hung out with the guys and even then it would always end in you and him being pulled away from each other , red in the face from anger.

if anyone was to see you guys and you told him you and him used to be closer than you and jake , they'd think you were crazy; but believe it or not you and sunghoon were super close until everything changed that one month before your second year of college…

there was a knock on the door that brought you from your thoughts; you looked at the time a hour and a half , that's how late he was. you were pissed; getting up from your couch, making your way over to the door. “who is it?”

sunghoon rolled his eyes. “unless you planned on having a guy over, who else would it be.” you scoffed. “yeah well , the dumbass that was supposed to be here is an hour late.” he hit the door harder. “open the door yn.” you unlocked the door , cracking it open. “give me the money.” you held your hand out. “you serious?” he said. “you want to be tutored right?”

he cursed , pulling out his phone; he typed in a few things, before turning it towards you. “happy?” you slammed the door in his face , he sighed; hearing the deadbolt unlock, the door finally opening. “never will i be happy about this.” you walked away , allowing him inside you home. “take your dirty shoes off.”

“if you're not happy then why are you doing this then?” he asked. “because of my brother.” he followed behind you. “you could fail for all i care , that just means you'd probably have to drop out and at least i wouldn't have to see you anymore.” you pushed the door open to your room. “yeah whatever.” he dropped his bag on the floor. “let's get this over with i have things to do later.”

“sure those girls who are constantly blowing up your phone can wait.” he watched you go around the room collecting all the books you'd need. “you sound like you're jealous.”

“of you? no, but i do feel bad for those girls , must be such a disappointment.” you didn't see his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “sit.” you pointed to the floor. “you're not sitting on my bed.”

upon sitting down he noticed the camera point at your bed. “filming something before i got here is a bit shameless , is that why i can't sit on the bed yet , cause you haven't changed the sheets.” you scoffed. “you wish you fucking pervert.” he watched you get up from the bed , pulling the camera off the tripod. “i didn't pay you 200 dollars to fuck around , i need help.” he said. “so help me.”

“i took the liberty in asking your teachers what you needed help in, and looks like i hit the jackpot , you suck at everything.” you said. “so help me , im paying you for a reason.” he said. “try opening the damn book.” he huffed , pulling out a textbook. “seriously are you dumb?” you picked up the book. “what that's the book.”

“yeah from last year , that's why you don't understand anything, you're reading the wrong fucking book.” you snatched it from him, throwing it in the trash. “i have to pay for those books, you know , i don't have extra cash like that.” you sighed , handing him the extra book you kept in case you yeojin lost the original. “keep it , use that one.” he took the book from you, watching you as you sat down. “now open it.”

three hours and four different books later; you were ready for him to go, even when you were close and and would study together , you hardly got any work done , and now that you two weren't close anymore his presence irritated you; but in some sick and twisted way , turned you on. the close proximity, and you both being alone ; and you not having any in a while outside of jake and that wasn't real , it was acting. and here he sat , in all his irritable but sexy glory— it made you mad.

“we're done , we took all the notes you will need , study that on your own , you fail not my problem.” you stood up from the bed , stretching; he looked up from the books , your shirt lifting revealing your stomach. “excuse me pervert.” you pulled your shirt down. “why are you still here?”

he stood up; looking at you once more, your tight tank top accentuating the curves that he not only saw on camera; but had the pleasure of seeing a few times in the past. “you're such a narcissist , not everyone is always staring at you , not everyone is a fan of you.” you scoffed. “but you are.” you mumbled , but he heard you. “such a bitch.”

he looked down for a quick second , then back at you. “you can seriously go now.” you said. “tell me do you always leave your toys around or is this some sick perverted thing you do to company.” you looked down and to your horror , one of the many toys you owned was laying on the floor. “get the fuck out now!” you shouted , kicking it under the bed. “calm down , im going after i use the bathroom , is this anyway to treat your guest?” he smirked walking out of the room. “you aren't a wanted guest!” you shouted back in response.

how could that have happened; you sat on the bed , yanking at your hair. “so embarrassing.” you screeched. “i’m gonna kill jungwon.” you flopped down on the bed , your phone buzzing beside you. “oh sunoo.” you cried out , picking up the device , think you'd be able to cry to your friend — except it wasn't your phone; it was sunghoons phone, he must've left it before going to the bathroom.

you were inclined to put it down , nothing inside that man's phone interested you; well at first. kingsteve.12.08 you knew that name from anywhere. “what are you doing?”

once he got to the bathroom; he shut the door with a sigh. the look on your face when he discovered your sex toy; the redness of your cheeks. “fuck.” he gripped the sink, he just had to find it. why did he have to find it? because now he couldn't get the picture of you using it out of his head. “i have to get out of here.” he said to himself, fearing what he might do if he didn't.

he made his way back to your room, ready to leave; but the smirk on your face made him curious. “what are you doing?” he said , his eyes going down to your hand , which held his phone. “using your english name was smart , i would've gotten that , but im surprised you used your birthday , because i know that.” soon his phone was pointing directly at him, his profile pulled up on the screen. “not only do you watch my content , you're my top subscriber.”

“give me that right fucking now.” he said. “now yn.” you scoffed. “this is just fucking great; now if you tell him this i just show him this and guess what?” sunghoon reached for the phone , but you pulled back. “try explaining that.”

he grabbed your wrist; you pulled your wrist. “let me go.” you yanked your arm, his eyes low , you gulp. “i said fucking let me go.” both of your faces red , anger? arousal who knows; but one thing is for sure , you both had to separate before you both did something you regret or one of you murdered each other , and with how big he was , he definitely had the upper hand on both ends.

snatching his phone away; pushing you down on the bed, putting it away. he picked his bag off the ground. “i really hate you yang yn.” he gritted through his teeth.

“right back at you park sunghoon.”

「 previous - next 」

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©LUVYENI translations to other sites prohibited, reblogs are appreciated but not forced !

[fatuismooches]

I have a terrible idea.

So we know how Dottore is kinda forgetful right? Like this man straight up forgot that he killed Krupp not even an hour later.

What if... 👉👈 his lover died and he sometimes forgot that happened?

So Dottore is just chilling, and remembers that he should be making his dear's next round of medications.

He goes through the motions, only to pause midway. Right... his lover is dead.

He throws out the half finished medications.

IF THIS IS TOO EVIL IM SORRY 😭 I JUST THOUGHT OF IT AND IVE BEEN DYING SINCE

It's not a secret that Dottore tends to throw himself into his work, especially when he's particularly excited about getting results. Now, it's still not unusual for the Harbinger to busy himself in his lab... only this time, it's to distract himself from his reality outside of work. He barely even talks to his segments anymore, leaving them to fulfill their respective duties, so he works from project to project. Working, working... although there are occasions when he pauses to wonder what he's doing.

How long has he been working? Ages by now probably, it seems like he lost track of time, as he always did. So much work... no breaks... speaking of breaks, he'd have thought you'd come to pester him to take one by now. That was odd. Quite peculiar, to be honest. Maybe you were caught up in your own interests? He'd have to indulge you in them soon. Speaking of strangeness, his foggy, sleep and food deprived mind realizes he's neglected to start concocting your new medicine! He clicks his tongue at his carelessness, this was of utmost importance! He despised seeing any day when your health was worse off - it was his duty to keep you stable.

Dottore gets to work gathering the necessary items for your meds, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he will see you soon. But then his face turns to a scowl as he realizes important ingredients hadn't been gathered. Why didn't he send an order out for them? That was wholly idiotic - he'd never forget something as important as that... there must have been a good reason... and so he rattles his overfilled brain to remember and then-

It's times like this when Dottore remembers it was his duty to you as Zandik to keep you happy and healthy, and he failed.

The segments ignore the crash from his quarters once again.

[someforeignband]

🪱Wiggly Worm Wednesday!🪱

having thoughts about eddie and steve going to visit steve’s grandmother! (im spending the week with my nanna and am having thoughts)

It starts with this nebulous idea that Steve’s parents didn’t want to take care of Francesca’s mother after her husband died, so they moved Steve’s maternal grandmother to a 65+ community in Sun City, Arizona. Just like their son, they’d much rather ship off Franny’s mother instead of dealing with her needs. So, they leave sweet Cecilia in a massive 2,900 square foot condo in the Arizona desert, all by herself.

One afternoon in march, Steve gets a call from his Nonna. She explains she has had some plumbing issues and neither Franny, nor Richard is returning her calls. She complains that there’s palm fronds in her yard, and with the state of her back, she just can’t fix all of these things on her own.

“How do you feel about a trip to Arizona?” Steve would ask Eddie, after a two-and-a-half hour long conversation with his grandmother.

Thusly, a PanAm flight to Phoenix was booked. It was Eddie’s first time on a plane. Despite his nerves prior to getting on the flight, he has a marvelous time. Eddie discovers that he loves turbulence and puts his hands up and giggles the whole time.

Steve, to Eddie’s dismay, is the exact opposite. He squeezes the armrest the entire 3.5 hour flight. He can’t stand how relaxed Eddie is, not understanding how someone like Eddie could just be so calm.

Once they land, Steve tries to brief Eddie on his Nonna’s disposition. “She’s sort of a firecracker, Eddie. Very particular about pretty much everything. I’m sorry if she’s mean to you.”

Eddie tells him not to worry about it, assures him they’ll get through the weekend.

To Steve’s delight (and Eddie’s utter surprise), Nonna takes to Eddie like a fish to water. He can talk about the Bible with her. Wayne’s been pretty devout his whole life, so when Eddie makes a comment about her dish towel with Philippians 4:6-7 printed on it, Steve knows Eddie’s going to practically be family.

Cece is ecstatic to be able to show the boy pictures of Italia and tell him stories about her upbringing. She shows him pictures of Franny, pictures of her late husband, and her collection of photos of Steve’s baptism. It keeps Cece distracted, while Steve gets to work fixing her kitchen plumbing.

Steve can’t help but grin to himself like a madman as he tinkers with her pipes, listening to his Nonna and his boyfriend volley back and forth. Sharp as whips, the both of them, and god it was nice to watch Eddie get on with someone who was blood to him.

Steve didn’t have much family that bothered to be in his life.

It was nice.

And best of all— at least for Nonna— Eddie can eat her food. Eddie can seriously put it away. Steve stops after one helping of Parmigiana di Melanzane, but Eddie has two more servings, and saves room for dessert.

“Eat up, Edoardo,” Cece pats his cheek. “Too skinny, Stephano. You starving him?”

“Never, Nonna,” Steve laughs, shaking his head, watching Eddie shovel another spoonful into his mouth, grinning at Steve across the dining room table.

Despite the fact that they’ve been seeing each other for a few months, after dancing around each other for the better part of two years—Eddie’s feeling things about Steve fixing his grandmas plumbing, doing yard work, etc. The flush in Steve’s face, hands on his hips, complaining about the state of the yard: Eddie’s never felt more in love (and other tingly, warm sensations).

Further, Eddie watches Steve and Cece scream at each other in stilted Italian as she tries to pick up a scorpion and take it outside with her bare hands. Finally, after about forty-five seconds of screaming and the scorpion trying to wiggle away, Steve takes Eddie’s boot and smacks the thing with a scared squeal. It crunches under the sole and twitches a few times before dying on the salmon colored tile, guts splattered everywhere.

“You handled that well,” Eddie muses, once the whole ordeal is over, taking a dishcloth and floor cleaner, scrubbing at the thing’s guts.

“I couldn’t let her get stung. She’s seventy-nine!” Steve says, then shudders. “I never wanna do that again.”

Later that night, Eddie sips coffee out of a lumpy clay mug, a Stephano Original, while she and Steve play rummy. Catching eyes over the table, they smile at each other, knowingly. After a while, Eddie gets tired, slinking off to the office, where Cecilia had set him up with an air mattress.

Before Steve retires to the spare bedroom that night, his Nonna pulls him aside, wrapping him in a warm hug.

“Ti voglio,” She whispers, kissing his temple, smoothing his hair back.

“I love you too,” Steve answers quietly, thrown off by the unexpected display of affection.

“And,” She pauses, scrunching her dark eyebrows together, deciding exactly what to say. “I really like that boy, Stephano.”

Steve’s chest fills with warmth, not knowing exactly if she means what he hopes she means. But at that moment, he’ll take it.

“Me, too, Nonna.” He whispers, grinning at her. “Me, too.”

TAGGING ONLY @yours-etc!!!! WRITE SOMETHING I MISS YOUR WRITING

[atlabeth]

leave the door open - anthony lockwood

summary: no matter what happens, there's always the light underneath the door. the sign that, when you're ready, he'll let you back in with open arms.

a/n: obviously inspired by leave the door open by silk sonic because i could (and have) listen to it on repeat for hours. this spiraled way out of control but im honestly really happy with it and i hope you all are too!

wc: 8.2k

warning(s): mild angst, arguing, hurt/comfort, mildly serious injury, short scene with a gun/gunshot wound, but the whole first half of the fic is fluff and it is all wrapped up w a fluffy ending

127.

128.

129.

13–

Your focus was broken as police sirens blared past your window, and you let out a long-lasting sigh. This was the fifth time your count had been interrupted, and you weren’t starting over again. 

Trying to sleep was a fruitless endeavor at this point, and that wasn’t going to change no matter how many notches in the wall you counted—you might as well accept it.

You’d never been much for sleeping through the night, but your new home boded worse for it all. A new room, a new house, a new city, a new agency. Being in the thick of it all after what felt like so long on your own was overwhelming, and it still felt like it could all fall apart. Being given the job all because you passed a few tests in the living room didn’t exactly feel like security. 

You sighed as you slipped on a sweatshirt and walked out of the attic— your room, at least for now— carefully moving down the steps in an effort to not make much noise. 

35 Portland Row was filled with warmth, that much was obvious from your short time here, but that warmth had not yet penetrated your skin. It was all too foreign. 

You meant to go to the kitchen and make a midnight cup of tea, but your eyes were drawn to a slightly open door, light spilling out in the cracks. The library, if you remembered correctly from Lockwood’s tour.

It must have been George. You didn’t know much about him, but the way Lockwood described him certainly made him seem like the type to be up pouring over books until the early hours of the morning.

It wouldn’t hurt to say hi. Let him know that they’d added another restless soul into their agency.

You pushed the door open a bit more, knocking on the wall as you leaned against the door frame, and your eyebrows rose slightly when the boy looked up. 

“Lockwood,” you said, tamping down on your surprise.

He said your name with a slight smile and a bow of his head. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You nodded. “Have you got room for one more?”

“Always,” he said with a gesture at the seat across from him. 

You closed the door behind you and took the offered chair, glancing down at the papers in front of him. “What’s got you up?”

“Bills,” he said dryly. “The mortgage, the utilities, our certification, and now—” he looked at you— “another agent on the payroll.”

“I’ll be sure to try and bring in more than you spend on me,” you said, and he smiled as he set his pen down. 

“How thoughtful.” Lockwood laced his fingers together before he leveled his gaze fully at you. “And what’s got you up?”

“Just what I said,” you answered with a shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. I haven’t gotten used to this place yet.”

“Hopefully it doesn’t take too long, because you’re going to hit the ground running,” Lockwood said. “We’ve got a meeting tomorrow with a client, and if all goes well we’ll be having tea with a Visitor by noon.”

“Honestly, that would make me feel like I fit in more,” you said. “I’m much better with the ‘nearly dying’ part of this job than the settling in part.”

He cracked a small smile. “I’m hoping we’ll avoid that part, especially with your help.”

Your eyebrows rose. “You’ve got that much faith in me?”

“I assumed you knew the amount of faith I have in you when I hired you,” Lockwood joked. “Your Touch is just what we’ve been missing.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me,” you said. “There’s always uncertainty about freelance agents because we work on our own, but I promise I’ll try my best to merge back into a group.”

“Like I said,” Lockwood’s eyes twinkled, “I’ve got full faith in you.”

You chuckled and nodded, and you tapped the desk before you stood up. “I’ll leave you to your devices. Thank you for the talk, Lockwood.”

“Try and get some sleep,” Lockwood said. “After all, tomorrow is when you prove yourself.”

“Ah,” you said sagely. “Tomorrow will determine whether I have a job or I’m back on the streets.”

“I won’t let that happen,” he said, and he looked wholly genuine. “You’re part of Lockwood & Co now, and we take care of our own.”

You nodded, your lips quirking into a small smile. It had been a long time since someone had so clearly said to you that they would watch out for you— that they saw you as more than just your Touch. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. 

Lockwood nodded, his expression turning slightly wry. “Besides, the only real reason I think I’d fire you is if you got us all killed.”

“You can’t fire me if we’re all dead.”

“I suppose that means you’re thoroughly employed,” Lockwood said with a smile. 

You chuckled. “Good to know.”

“Truly, though, try and get some sleep.” He picked up his pen again, clicking it a few times. “We might be London’s smallest agency, but we take cases the likes of Fittes would handle.”

“As long as you try and get some too,” you said.

Lockwood smiled, but there was a notable absence of a promise. “Goodnight.”

“Are you always in the library?” you asked suddenly. “Because I— I find myself awake a lot at night. It would be nice to know when you’re open to chat and when you just want to be alone.” 

He nodded. “I’ll leave the door open for you. Just like tonight.” 

You stared at him for a moment more, taking in his slightly ruffled hair, his undone tie and rolled up sleeves. The dark circles under his eyes. 

“Perfect,” you responded softly. “Goodnight, Lockwood.”

"Goodnight," he repeated, that same small smile on his lips.

You closed the door behind you.

You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

-

It was another two weeks until your next sleepless night. 

Kept busy with countless cases, you were exhausted near every time you stumbled back through the doors of Portland Row. Part of it was from adjusting back into an agency after being on your own for so long, the other part was the seriously intense jobs that Lockwood kept taking. 

And you did adjust, that was true. 

You didn’t know if you and George were exactly friends, but he allowed you to help when he cleaned up in the kitchen, and you’d already spent a few afternoons in the archives together—today had been the best, him sharing all the material he found with you and willing to listen to your theories and look at your notes. He was warming up to you, at least. 

Lockwood was completely different. He exuded charm, all easy smiles and plying words meant to get someone’s guard down. It was how he operated, how he had to live—everyone underestimated him so he took it upon himself to prove everyone wrong. His name was on the door, after all, as he liked to remind you all. 

Maybe that was why he was always up, you thought, because as you slowly moved down the stairs, rubbing grogginess out of your eyes, you noticed that the light was on in the library again. Door slightly cracked open. 

You huffed a laugh before you knocked on the frame again, pushing it open to see Lockwood in almost the exact same position as last time. Instead of a variety of papers, though, he was hunched over a map. 

He said your name, a small smile already pulling at his lips. “So we meet again.” 

“We live in the same house,” you said wryly, “and we work together.” 

“All the more reason to be thankful that you put up with me past billing hours,” Lockwood said. You chuckled, and he gestured at the chair across from him. “Take a seat.” 

You did, and you tapped your fingers on the table before you took a look at the map. “What’s got you up so late?” 

“I’m scouting out a potential job,” he said. “A very old, very haunted mansion owned by a very rich family.” 

“I like the sound of that,” you mused. 

“So do I.” That spark was in his eye again, and you found yourself watching him as he talked. “The patriarch called me last night, and I met with him and his wife while you and George were at the archives today. He offered the job of clearing his ancestral home, and I told him I would get back to him after I consulted my colleagues.” 

“Colleagues,” you hummed. “I like the sound of that too.” 

Lockwood chuckled. “I thought after freelancing for so long you would be against working so closely with a team.” 

You shrugged. “I needed a change. You lot have been a pretty good one.” 

“It’s certainly an honor,” Lockwood said with mock austerity, and you rolled your eyes with a laugh. 

“Just get on with it, Lockwood.” 

He nodded, and he pushed the map over to you. “I was going to lay it all out for you two tomorrow morning, but since you’re here, I might as well get your opinion on it.” 

You took a moment to fully examine it. “Well, it’s certainly very big.” You glanced back up at Lockwood. “How much are they willing to pay?” 

He smiled. “Fifty thousand pounds.” 

Your eyes about burst out of your head, and you slid the map back over to him. “That’s all I need to hear. I’m in.” 

Lockwood laughed and he took it back from you. “You don’t even know anything else about it. You could be walking into a death trap.” 

“Every job I did on my own was a possible death trap, and none of them were for fifty thousand pounds,” you said. “I’m in—I don’t care if half of England is haunting that house.” 

His smile faded a bit, and he cleared his throat as he looked you in the eye. “You know, you haven't talked much about why you were a freelance agent. Even during the interview.”

Your brows furrowed at the sudden question and you shrugged. “I wanted to be.” 

“Everyone knows it’s a lot more dangerous than being in an agency,” Lockwood said. “Ghosts are hard enough to deal with in a group— going on your own is asking for trouble.” 

“Before I came in, it was just you and George,” you countered. “You’ve got no supervisors, just the two of you hoping for the best. I’d say that’s asking for trouble.” 

“You’re deflecting,” Lockwood said. 

You glanced away, finally letting out a sigh as you leaned back in your chair.

“You don’t have to—” 

“Because from the moment I discovered my Talent, I’ve heard horror stories from agencies. Entire teams going down on doomed missions, sole survivors left to live with the guilt for the rest of their lives. It happened to one of the teams in my agency, and I knew I wasn’t going to wait for it to happen to me.”

Lockwood’s eyes softened, and he stayed silent as you continued. 

“I have no team, I have no roommates—when I’m on my own, no one has to worry about me,” you said quietly. “If something goes wrong, and I die, that’s it. No guilt, no problems, no legal trouble. No mourners.”

Lockwood frowned. “That’s not a very good way to look at it.”

“Never said it was,” you said wryly. “It’s just the way I look at it.” 

“Your family would care.” 

You shook your head. “They wouldn’t.”

He was silent for a good moment, and then he reached over and took your hand. It was a shock at first, your eyes widening slightly as they darted up to meet his, but he was calm as ever. 

“You’ve got us now,” he said. “Lockwood & Co. Me and George. And we’d care very much if you were to die, so I’d appreciate it if you refrained from that.” 

That got a watery laugh out of you, and you felt the beginnings of tears behind your eyes for some reason. “I don’t think that was in my contract.” 

“It was in the fine print,” Lockwood assured. He looked so much younger when he smiled, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.  

“That changes everything then.” Your voice was slightly stilted as you pulled away, and you turned slightly as you wiped at your eyes so he couldn’t see. If Lockwood noticed, he didn’t say anything. 

“Try and get some sleep,” he murmured. “If George is on board, we’ve got a very long day tomorrow.” 

You nodded, clearing your throat as you stood up. “You too. Can’t go into battle without our fearless leader.” 

He chuckled and nodded, his eyes never leaving you as you walked to the door. You paused, setting your hand on the frame, and turned around. 

“Thank you, Lockwood,” you said, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I mean it.” 

He smiled, and you found yourself lost in it for a moment. He really was beautiful. “Any time.” 

-

And so your days continued on as a certified member of Lockwood & Co, becoming more integrated by the hour. 

It wasn’t much longer before George took to you, and when you found a break in a case that saved you hours of potential digging through the archives, your spot as ‘respected colleague and potential friend’ was cemented. 

Lockwood already knew more about you than most, putting him in the ‘weird friend, weird boss’ category. The man literally never slept, and all the information he knew about you was willingly given to him through late night vulnerability. You needed to start forcing yourself to stay in bed, if not solely to keep some secrets between you. 

But— yeah, he was nice. Easy to joke around with, easy to work with, easy on the eyes. You’d smiled and laughed more in a single month at Portland Row than you had in three years as a freelance agent. Far better than the lonely studio apartment you holed up in between cases. 

The warmth was beginning to penetrate your skin, you thought with a slight smile. 

“What in the world are you doing?”

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a voice. You looked up from the baking sheet to see Lockwood waiting in the doorway with a small smile.

“Stress baking,” you said with a slight chuckle as you continued scooping dough onto the tray.

“At two in the morning?”

You shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep, and extra research wasn’t doing me any good. I had to get the nerves out somehow, and unless I fancied a nice bout with a Visitor, I couldn’t exactly go for a run.”

“So you decided on cookies instead,” he said wryly. “You know, you really should try and get more sleep.”

“Says you.” You finished filling up the tray and you picked it up, glancing at Lockwood as you walked over to the oven. “Every night that I’m up, you’re up too. That’s got to be unhealthy.”

“I’m a busy man,” he responded. “I can’t have half of my employees running around sleep deprived.”

You chuckled. “Good to know you care.”

His lips quirked into a smile. “Always.” 

“But you have to care about yourself, too.” You shut the oven and set a timer on your watch, then gestured at the counter where an already finished tray sat. “Try one.”

“Sugar so close to bed?” he joked.

“Oh, please,” you brushed your hand through the air, “we both know you’re not falling asleep any time soon.”

Lockwood cracked a smile as he walked over, picking up a cookie from the sheet. “Chocolate chip?”

“The best,” you confirmed.

He took a bite and he hummed as his eyebrows rose. “Surprisingly good,” he said after he swallowed.

“‘Surprisingly’?” you repeated. “Why can’t they just be normally good?”

“You may have noticed, but George is our resident chef.” Lockwood finished the rest of the cookie, much to your silent delight, and he went to the fridge. “I’m just surprised we’ve got two culinary experts on the team now.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’m not anywhere near an expert. I’m much better at baking than cooking, so George has that market cornered.”

Lockwood smiled, and he finished his cup of water. “He’ll be happy to know that. He’d probably love to share some of his recipes with you.”

“I’d love that more,” you said. “His halva the other day was incredible.”

“I’ll let him know. Of course,” his eyes twinkled, “he’d probably be more flattered if you told him yourself. If there’s one thing he’s prouder of than his work in the archives, it’s his work in the kitchen.” 

“I’ll be sure to,” you agreed. 

“Are you going to sleep anytime soon?” Lockwood asked as usual. 

As usual, you rolled your eyes, bit back your smile. “I’ve got two more trays worth of dough. I promise I’ll go after they’re done.” 

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Do you also promise to leave some for us?” 

You laughed. “Of course. I didn’t make them just for stress relief, you know.” 

“Good,” Lockwood repeated. “I’ll see you in the morning, then. The later morning, rather.” 

“You get some sleep too,” you said, pointing your spatula at him, “or else all of these are going to George.” 

He placed his fist over his chest. “Cross my heart.” 

“Good. Now get out of here.” 

Lockwood chuckled as he walked out, spurring a smile of your own. You picked up a cookie and took a bite, humming in approval at the taste. 

“Normally good,” you murmured to yourself as you watched the oven. “Not surprisingly good.” 

-

(When Lockwood came down the next morning, there were two plates of cookies sitting on the counter. He moved to take one, but then he noticed the Post-its. 

One read GEORGE and one read LOCKWOOD, each in front of their own separate plates. There was another at the top—NO STEALING :) or I will never make cookies again 

He chuckled, his mind wandering to you as he finally took one—from his plate, of course—and bit into it. 

Normally good, he thought with a slight smile. 

A fine addition to the team indeed.)

-

You yawned as you walked down the hallway, rubbing at your groggy eyes. You couldn’t sleep, as was per usual when you were working on such a big case, but that didn’t mean you had to like it. 

Your mind ran a thousand kilometers a minute any time you even tried to close your eyes. Truly, you had no idea how George functioned with a brain like his. 

You were about to go into the kitchen to make yourself your usual midnight cup of tea, hoping it would work its usual magic, when you saw the door to the library cracked open. 

You couldn’t help but smile. He’d told you and George to go to bed early to make sure you were all ready for the job the next day, and here he was. Restless as ever and still a liar. 

You pushed the door the rest of the way open, blinking a bit at the lights as you leaned against the frame. “Up late again, Lockwood?” you asked, and he started when he turned to you and said your name. 

“You should be asleep,” he said.

“So should you.” 

“I’m looking over the floorplans one last time,” Lockwood said. “This place is huge, and I want to make sure I know every part of it.” 

“We’ve drilled the exits a thousand times,” you said. “We already know the mansion inside out—cramming at midnight isn’t going to help anyone. Actually being rested for once will.” 

Lockwood gave you a wry look. “Awfully strong words coming from you.” 

“I was going to the kitchen to make some tea,” you defended. “And then I was going to go right back to sleep.” 

He smiled as he looked at you, and then he nodded and stood up. “Alright. Come on.” 

You raised your eyebrows as Lockwood started walking, and then he took your hand and started pulling you along. 

“Oh my god,” you said with a laugh, “I can walk on my own.” 

All he said was, “I know,” in that annoyingly cocky tone of his, and you continued following him as you went up the stairs. When he pulled open the door of his room, you 

“Neither of us are very good at staying asleep,” Lockwood said wryly, “and I really don’t trust you to get enough in the face of tomorrow. So…” 

“You think sleeping in the same bed will help,” you surmised. 

He shrugged. “At the very least, I’ll be able to make sure you do fall asleep.” 

“Then the same goes for you.” 

“Obviously.” 

You stared at him for a moment. You didn’t exactly… know what to do. 

The words rushed out of his mouth. “Of course if you don’t want to—” 

“No,” you interrupted, shaking your head. “No, it’s alright. I want to.” 

His lips quirked into a smile. “Alright.” 

You pulled back the covers, clearing your throat as you took your side and Lockwood took his after turning the lamp off. You didn’t know why this was so awkward, sharing a bed with the boy you’d worked with for the past few months, but it was. You’d faced down countless ghosts together, but this was apparently too much. 

“Your bed’s comfortable,” you said, desperate to break the silence. You stared at his wall, your back turned to him, Lockwood in the same position. 

“Thanks.”

“I don’t know how you’re ever not sleeping through the night with a mattress like this.” 

Lockwood chuckled. “Sight isn’t my only talent.” 

You smiled. “Very true.” 

“Why are you always up?” he asked. “I know my old bed isn’t the most comfortable, but it seems you’re always up.” 

“It seems you’re always up.” 

“Deflecting,” he said. Your mind flashed back to the first night in the library. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I’ve always been a restless person, but being an agent has just… worsened it. I had a couple of bad months working on my own and I don’t think I’ve fully recovered.” 

“Ah.” You could feel his breathing in the slight shifts of the bed, and it was oddly comforting. “I hope that we haven’t made it worse.” 

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “If anything, you’ve made it better. Portland Row is the embodiment of warmth, and you two are fantastic.” 

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere,” Lockwood assured. “...I’m not going anywhere. So if you ever need anything, please tell us.”  

Your voice was hardly more than a whisper. “Thank you.” 

“Always.” 

-

Your sleepless nights varied in frequency as the months went on. 

Sometimes you were so exhausted when you staggered through the doors of Portland Row that you felt as if you could sleep the night away on the couch. Other times, despite being worked to the bone from a difficult job, you would find yourself staring up at the ceiling of your room, unable to get the visions from the day out of your head. 

That was the lovely thing about Touch. The way you saw it, you gave a small part of yourself over each time you used it, and once you got it back, the things you’d seen were embedded in it—in you. It was awfully difficult to separate yourself from your jobs when you threw yourself so fully into it, when you had no other choice but to do so. 

Lockwood and George had become accustomed to how deep you felt things. When you needed to be alone after a job, when you needed one of them to talk nonstop to keep you distracted, when you just needed to sit with them in silence and be assured that this too would pass, no matter how slow. That was the nicest thing about being part of the group—you didn’t have to lick your wounds on your own.  

When it got really bad—and sometimes it did—you and Lockwood would share his room. His presence was unparalleled in bringing you comfort, and whispered conversations in the dark made you feel some sort of way. He was practically your savior. 

When he wasn’t helping you through the night, more often than not, Lockwood would be up at the same hour as you. It was concerning, though you couldn’t say anything about it. He would just throw it back at you, claiming you should be asleep as well. At least George was exempt from the criticism. Bless him. 

He found you in a lot of positions. Sitting on the floor of the kitchen scrubbing furiously at the plasm stains on your boots. Sitting on the floor of their living room, one of their case files in your lap as you recounted a previous case. Sitting on the floor of the basement, measuring out salt for bombs and ensuring their flares were stocked. You liked sitting on the floor while you did things, apparently—Lockwood had figured that out after a few weeks of sleepless nights. It was strange. 

And of course, the occasional bout of stress baking, ranging from cookies to brownies to pastries and more. You once even baked an entire cake in the middle of the night out of pure anger, the result of a frustrating loss to a Fittes team. Not getting the case hurt a little bit less the next morning when you all had cake to dull the pain. 

You found him just as many times. Sometimes getting his own cups of tea in the kitchen, sometimes reading those gossip magazines he was fond of, sometimes doing his own restocks of your supplies. Usually, though, he was just sitting in the library stressed over one thing or another.

You noticed he always tried to hide it from you, covering it with his easy smiles and well-placed jokes. It couldn’t be easy to run an agency as a teenager, no matter how small—you wondered how many restless evenings you would have to share together for him to drop the mask. 

Eventually, though, it was decided that another agent was needed. Lockwood and his Sight, you and your Touch, George as an all-arounder—he was your only source for Listening, but it had never been his strong suit. After you nearly got ghost-touched because of that blatant lack of Listening, Lockwood put his foot down and put out an ad. 

Enter one Lucy Carlyle: excellent Listener, skilled in Touch, a myriad of opinions. You liked her the moment you met her, her image only sullied by her taking two biscuits. You could hardly blame her though, the way George pushed her. He loved to push. 

Due to a lack of rooms but an imminent need for Talent, it was decided that Lucy would room in the attic with you. You were able to get one of the spare beds all the way up to the attic between the four of you, and when you all promptly collapsed on the ground together, it was agreed upon that Lockwood & Company would stick to ghosts. Very good for team bonding, though. 

It took Lucy a bit to get used to you, especially in such close quarters, but soon enough you were joking around and talking like you’d known each other for years. You knew she was good, but witnessing her listening was awe-inspiring. You almost couldn’t believe you’d gotten her over Fittes or Atkinson and Armstrong, but you weren’t going to complain. You felt as if your motley crew could do anything. 

“I can’t believe he did this,” you seethed. 

Well, there were certain things your motley crew did not need to do. Especially your leader. 

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that,” Lucy said. 

“I can’t believe he did this!” you repeated, louder and more annoyed as you threw yourself against the wall. “How stupid can one boy be?” 

“He was trying to save you, y’know,” Lucy said dryly. 

“I didn’t need to be saved,” you grumbled. “He did it because he’s reckless and stupid.” 

“...That’s fair,” Lucy said after a moment. “He is quite reckless.” 

“Don’t forget stupid.” 

Her lips twitched for a moment. “Perhaps you shouldn’t speak ill of the injured.” 

“That’s just the dead,” you muttered. “And we speak plenty of ill of them.” 

This was all because of a job that went wrong. And you were certain it wouldn’t have gone wrong if Lockwood could hold himself back for a moment. 

-

“Are you sure that’s him?” you murmured, disguising your words with your cup of sparkling cider. 

“Positive,” Lockwood confirmed. “Arthur Torres, one of Sunrise Corporation’s many useless executives.” 

“Lovely.” You finished your drink. “I distract and you steal, right?” 

“Actually,” Lockwood said, and you didn’t like that at all, “you steal, I distract.” 

Your brows furrowed. “That wasn’t the plan.” 

“I make the plans,” he said, “I can change them.” 

“Not when we spend hours going over them to ensure they’re flawless,” you said tartly. 

“Relax.” He smiled at you, and somehow it managed to carve through your irritation. He slipped the keycard out of his pocket and pressed it into your hand. “I’m very good at improvising.” 

“Lockw—” You didn’t have the chance to chastise him the way he deserved before he slipped off, a very convenient waiter filling the space he left before you could dart after him. You scoffed as you placed your empty glass on their tray, your eyes narrowed as you glared at Lockwood from beyond. 

He paid no attention to you, not until he made the signal. He ‘accidentally’ bumped into Mr. Torres, spilling his wine all over his jacket, and before the first apology could fall from his lips, you were gone. 

You muttered curses under your breath the entire way, slipping past guards and security the best you could on the way to the stairwell. You took them two at a time as you hurried to the fourth floor, and though you were completely out of breath by the time you made it, you were pleased that there were no guards. George said he would have the security cameras disabled before you got there, so you just had to trust in him. 

You continued to take in and let out deep breaths as you walked up to the door, and they turned into a sigh of relief when you scanned the keycard and it opened. You heard footsteps behind you and whirled around, your hand flying on instinct for the rapier that wasn’t there, and your eyes widened yet again when you saw it was Lockwood. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed. 

He held up his hands in defense, as he stopped jogging, and then he brushed out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “I came to help you.” 

“You’re meant to be distracting Mr. Torres,” you said incredulously. “Lockwood, do you even care for the sanctity of plans?” 

“I care about your safety,” he said, calm in the face of your anger. “That’s why I’m here.” 

“And where is he? Hopefully not in reach of his various guards that could ruin us and our careers at any second.” 

“I left him in the washroom,” Lockwood said. “How are you doing?” 

You set your jaw, and you sighed as you gestured with your head into the now-open office. “Let’s just find this source so we can get out of here.” 

Now came the not-so-legal part, that some may even call theft. Lockwood called it discreetly fixing mistakes, you called it your shoddy morals. Not that you were torn up about stealing from an executive businessman, you just didn’t particularly fancy losing your license over it. 

A rich family had hired Lockwood & Co to find and return a source that was important to their family, and of course it was housed by Mr. Torres of the Sunrise Corporation. You’d no idea what it was with wealthy people and their flaunting of sources, but you’d had enough of it. They paid handsomely for the risk though, hence your shoddy morals. 

This, honestly, was the easy part. You touched a few things, concentrated until your head hurt, and it led you right to it. Quite disappointing—you didn’t know why the Paladinos would keep a paperweight in the family, and more importantly how it came about to be a source, but that didn’t really matter. It sat on Torres’s desk, surrounded by Sunrise Corporation silver-glass, and just for extra measure Lockwood put it into a metal box of your own. You shoved it into your backpack, and the job was halfway done. 

The other half was getting out without being spotted. 

The two of you worked quickly to erase all traces of your being there, and soon enough you were hurrying through the halls together. 

“That was good work.” 

You ignored him. 

“The Paladinos’ money will do a lot of good for us.” 

You ignored him.

“Seriously. You work well on the fly.” 

“We shouldn’t have had to work on the fly,” you finally said bitterly. 

“Why are you so mad?” Lockwood asked with a slight laugh. God, his nerve. “It all worked out. We’ve got the source, we’ll get the payment, and we didn’t even have to deal with any Visitors. Torres is still clueless.” 

“That’s not the point, Lockwood,” you hissed. You forced your expression back into neutrality as you walked out of the stairwell and back into the midst of the party, and you and Lockwood moved at a normal pace. He offered occasional smiles and nods to people in the crowd, and you both nodded at the guards at the exit when you left. 

You couldn’t even relish in your victory, because once you’d gotten out of hearing distance, around the corner where no guards or partygoers could see or hear you, Lockwood stopped you. 

“What is the point then?” he asked. “If none of what I said is the point, then what is the point?” 

“The point is that you don’t trust me!” you exclaimed. 

He immediately frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“Why did you even follow me in the first place?” you asked. “It was your decision to switch it up at the last moment, and you couldn’t even follow through with that?” 

Lockwood didn’t say anything, and you shook your head. 

“You don’t trust me,” you repeated quietly. 

He said your name then, a slightly wild look in his eyes as he turned to you. “That’s not it.” 

“It is.” A muscle worked in your jaw. “Because if you thought I could do it, you would have let me do it instead of risking both of our lives. You wouldn’t have switched our roles in the first place.” 

“Torres was suspicious,” he insisted. “He— he was saying things, talking about how he had to make his guards check on his office. He’s a paranoid man, and you could have been in much more danger if I hadn’t abandoned him.” 

“That is bullshit!” you exclaimed. “God, it was your bloody idea in the first place! Is it suddenly not good enough? Am I not good enough?” 

“That is not what this is about,” Lockwood snapped. 

“Then what is it about?” you marveled. “Why did you switch roles in the first place? You’ve told me I could talk my way out of anything, but when the time comes, you shake things up for no reason. For no reason, Lockwood.” 

“People know my face better than they know yours,” Lockwood said. “Torres was more willing to talk with the head of a rising agency, you were able to slip around easier because of who you are.” 

“Why didn’t you think of that before we were in the thick of it all?” you asked incredulously, and you laughed. “I’ve saved your life multiple times, Lockwood, and you’ve done the same for me. You talk me up all the time to my face, saying I’m what this agency was missing, that I’m part of your family, that— that you’ll never let me go. But that’s all it is, isn’t it?” A shaky smile formed for just a moment before it broke. “Just talk.” 

Lockwood said your name desperately, but you shook your head. “No. Justify it however you want, but you nearly sabotaged the entire job just because you didn’t have enough faith in me. That’s it.”

“I’m telling you, that’s not it.” He let out a ragged sigh, running a distressed hand through his hair, when he suddenly froze. 

“Good evening, sir!” he called, confident as ever, like your argument hadn’t just happened. “We’re just—” 

His voice broke off mid sentence, and then he yelled your name. You whirled around.  

It was a guard, and he was armed. He must have spotted you when you were leaving the office, or maybe George had missed a camera and he’d seen your thievery—there were about a thousand things that could have gone wrong. For a split second, you stared down the barrel of the gun. Funny how you’d stared down what felt like hundreds of ghosts, and a bit of metal was what had you frozen. 

The guard pulled the trigger. 

Lockwood lunged. 

You screamed. 

-

“He’s lucky DEPRAC didn’t find the source in my bag,” you muttered. “They already interrogated me to hell and back while he was in the hospital. Luckily, it usually doesn’t look too good when an adult shoots a teenager and can hardly defend himself against it.” 

“The bloke deserved to be fired,” Lucy said. “A paperweight is certainly not worth shooting someone over.” 

“And it’s certainly not worth getting shot for,” you added. 

“It’s kind of funny,” Lucy said offhandedly. “He’s the one that got shot for you, and yet he’s apologizing to you.” 

“Because it’s his fault that he got us in that situation in the first place!” you exclaimed. You winced as your words sunk in, and you looked over at Lucy. “That was too harsh, wasn’t it?” 

“...A bit,” she admitted. 

You sighed dramatically and hit your head against the side of the wall. “I’m acting like a child.” 

“A bit.” 

“I just don’t know how he expects me to face him,” you said. “I’ve been working with him for the better part of a year, and somehow he still doesn’t trust me.” 

“I… don’t think that’s it,” Lucy said. 

“How could it not be it?” you said. “He wouldn’t have acted like he did if he trusted me.” 

She shrugged. “Have you thought that it’s because he cares about you?” 

“He cares about all of us, Luce.” 

“He cares about you more,” she said plainly. “In a different way.” 

Your head whipped towards her, and you stared at her for a good five seconds. “You are not saying what I think you’re saying.” 

“If you think I’m saying it, it’s for good reason,” she said. 

“We are colleagues,” you said slowly. “Nothing less, nothing more.” 

Lucy said your name with a slight laugh. “He took a bullet for you.” 

“He shuffled our assignments because he didn’t trust me,” you said. 

“He shuffled your assignments because he was worried about you,” she countered. “He didn’t want you with Torres because if you were found out, Lockwood didn’t want him to remember your face. And he abandoned his post because he was worried about you, that something would go wrong and he wouldn’t be there to help.” 

You stared at her before you continued your pacing. “You’re insane. You’re kicked out of the agency.” 

“I’m right,” she said wryly. “And may I remind you again that he took a bloody bullet for you?” 

“I’ve already given him that,” you said. “I lost my damn mind when it happened—almost tore the guard apart with my bare hands. I freaked out the entire way to the hospital with him.” 

“And now you’re almost completely ignoring him,” Lucy said. “Face it: you like him. You just don’t want to admit it because it would mean having an actual conversation with him about it all rather than pacing a hole in the floor.” 

“You’re wrong.” You huffed and leaned back against the wall. “You’re wrong.” 

Lucy sighed and she offered a faint smile as she stood up. “You take some time to realize all this. I’m stealing George for an Arif’s run.” 

“Leaving us alone,” you said flatly, staring ahead as she walked out. “You’re not clever, Lucy Carlyle!”

“Thank you!” she called with a laugh, and you hit your head against the wall once more when she closed the door behind her. 

Sometimes you really hated your friends. 

-

It wasn’t like you were avoiding Lockwood. That would be cruel. 

Stupid as he was, he got shot, and he got shot for you. Avoiding him would be ridiculous. 

You were just… strategically not talking to him. 

And that was arguably worse, yes, letting him see you but not deigning to say a single thing to him that wasn’t business related. 

It was even worse than worse because you’d inadvertently proven Lucy right. If this were any normal annoyance between friends, like the squabbles you and George were prone to or the bouts that your boys got into over patience and its virtues, it wouldn’t be this strong. 

You’d held grudges against Lockwood before. When he forgot to soak your boots overnight so you had to go into an important job with plasm stains, when he ate the strawberry sprinkled donut just to spite you, when you and George were still in rocky territory and he made you marathon the archives with him for nine hours straight. 

All of those, annoying as they were, were forgiven rather quickly. And yes, maybe this grudge was especially strong because of the severity of his injury, but… 

You could admit it. Normal people didn’t hold grudges over their best friend throwing themselves in front of them to prevent them from getting shot. Normal people were thankful. Normal people could talk about their feelings when they realized it was the reason for their strife. 

You, apparently, were not normal. And neither was anyone in this bloody agency, because nobody deigned to make it any easier for you.

Perhaps it was a bit stupid on your part, but you walked down to the kitchen anyway. You needed some tea to clear your mind. Instead, you were met with a half-shirtless Lockwood. 

“Ah,” he said your name, looking up from his spot against the counter, “nice of you to finally grace me with your presence.” 

“What are you doing?” you asked. It was almost embarrassing—you were meant to be holding a grudge and ignoring your feelings, and instead you were staring at him like a girl in primary school. Remarkable how quickly you forgot your objectives. 

“The doctor said I had to redress my wound every day for the first week,” he said. “Lucy and George just went out, so I figured I would do it now.” 

Your brows furrowed. “How do you feel?” 

“Better now that you’re here,” he said. Lucy’s words pounded in your ears. “I don’t think you avoiding me is good for my health.” 

You bit your lip and remained silent. Rocky territory, this was. 

“It’s alright if you just want to stand there.” Lockwood grimaced a bit as he pressed the alcohol-soaked pad to his wound. “Moral support is very helpful.” 

Remarkable how quickly the dam broke. You sighed and closed the distance, holding out your hand when you stopped a few meters in front of him. “Give it to me.” 

Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. 

“Give it to me,” you repeated. “I’ve dealt with many of my own wounds over the years. It’ll be a lot faster if I do it for you.” 

His lips quirked into a slight smile as he handed the cloth over. “This is better than moral support.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You couldn’t help the small smile of your own as you started to dab at the surrounding blood on his chest, innately aware of your proximity but trying your best to ignore it. “This doesn’t look too bad, honestly.” 

“I was shot,” he said dryly. “I think I deserve a few style points for that.” 

“You’ve already earned them all, Lockwood.” 

“That makes sense.” You felt his eyes on you as you continued to work, pointedly ignoring his gaze. “You know, they didn’t take the bullet out. Said it would be worse to take it out, and it’s not causing any problems inside. So I’ve got a bullet in me now.” 

Your brows furrowed. “Interesting.” 

“Indeed. I’ll be going off in airports for the rest of my life.” 

Your fingers hovered over his chest for a moment, and you pulled away with a sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

It was his turn to frown. “What for?” 

“For—” you let out another sigh, rougher this time. “For this.” 

“It wasn’t your fault I got shot,” he said. “I quite clearly remember pushing you out of the way.” 

“I know,” you said. “I— I am quite sorry that you got shot, though.” 

“Obviously,” he said coyly, and you let out a breathy laugh. 

“I’m sorry for this grudge. It’s probably the stupidest out of all the ones I’ve held against you so far.” 

“George keeps a running list,” Lockwood said. “I’m sure we can figure that out.” 

“I’m serious.” Your hand lingered on Lockwood’s chest for a moment, his body warmth almost shocking, before you set the cloth down on the counter. You started to put a fresh bandage on, but you finally mustered the strength to look at him. “I was so upset at the thought that you didn’t trust me because your opinion means a lot to me, Lockwood. The way you think of me means a lot to me.” You cleared your throat, averting your eyes for a moment. “You mean a lot to me.” 

Lockwood gently tipped your chin back towards him, your eyes meeting his. He really was beautiful—eyes that were softer than ever, his tousled hair, the slope of his jaw. Slightly chapped lips, the bags under his eyes that seemed to be permanent, the weight of the world on his shoulders that seemed to diminish ever so slightly when you were around. 

Your Lockwood. 

“You mean a lot to me as well,” he said. “Why do you think I reassigned us last minute? Why do you think I took a bullet for you?” 

“Because you’re a reckless idiot?” 

“Because I panic around you,” he said, “in addition to being a reckless idiot. Whenever we’re on a job, half of my mind is focused on ghosts, and the other half is making sure nothing happens to you. You drive me the best kind of insane.” 

You couldn’t help but stare at him. You wanted to kiss him more than anything, to root your hands in that tousled hair and make it an even bigger mess. You wanted to make him realize he didn’t have to worry about you, because you weren’t going anywhere without him. 

The words stuck in your throat. You finished applying his bandage, and you took a step away.

“Thank you,” you said. 

He didn’t look angry or annoyed or irritated—he understood. He understood you. 

“Always.” 

And it was as simple as that. 

-

It wasn’t really a surprise you couldn’t sleep that night. You hadn’t exactly talked to Lockwood since your show of emotion in the kitchen, embarrassing as it was. You made Lucy check downstairs before you went down for supper, and that was just so you could make the quickest sandwich of your life and immediately hurry back upstairs. 

Pathetic, really. You mustered the strength to tell the boy you liked him, he returned it, you ran off and locked yourself in the attic. 

And it wasn’t because it was too much. You just… you didn’t know. You might’ve driven Lockwood insane, but he turned you into a complete idiot. It was ridiculous. And you were not ridiculous. 

So when night rolled around, when Lucy and George were sound asleep and the ghost lamps flickered on every three minutes and you had only the owls outside your window for company, you knew what you were going to do. 

You threw on your sweatshirt, carefully padded across the floor and out the door so as to not wake Lucy, and you went down the stairs. 

Surprisingly, you’d never felt calmer. 

The light was on in the library. The door was slightly pushed open, the nondescript act that had turned into a beacon for the two of you. 

You knocked on the wall before you pushed the door open some more, not waiting for an answer as you leaned against the doorframe. 

Lockwood sat in his armchair, a magazine half open but neglected on his lap. His eyes shined the moment you stepped inside. 

“Got room for one more?” you asked softly.

Lockwood’s shoulders relaxed, his throat bobbing for a moment before that damn smile pulled at his lips.

“Always.”

[vampirebloodie]

One Piece For Each | Mark Hoffman x Reader x Peter Strahm (Threesome)

Summary: Where Strahm and Hoffman fought so much over you that you decided to give a piece of yourself to each.

Warning: NSFW Smut 18+, creampie, degradation kink, threesome, DP.

You were one of the precinct's main criminal experts and were always busy, especially after Jigsaw's cases increased drastically, which led to special agent Peter Strahm joining the case to help with the investigations, which despite being under the command of the detective, Mark Hoffman, it seemed like weren't moving forward even with all the clues you gave at each crime scene you investigated. You even had a hunch about what could be distracting the detective, ever since you started working together Hoffman tried to ask you out on a date, but you always ended up saying no because you didn't want to mix your personal life and work, especially when half of your colleagues work were dying in traps, anyway there was no point in ignoring Hoffman when Peter arrived and started acting the same way, the worst thing is that the two of them in the same environment always ended up in a huge argument and every time for the same reason:

You.

As much as you always said that there was no point in them fighting because you wouldn't accept either of them, it seemed like they were both deaf, they never listened to you and continued with the arguments.

You had just collected some DNA samples and sent them to the laboratory, when you heard a knock on the door, you allowed entry and soon saw the agent in front of you.

“Hey Peter, how can i help you today?”

You turned your chair towards him.

“Well... How's the research going?”

“Hmm, it's a difficult question to answer, i think it's under control, i sent some samples to the laboratory today, in 24 hours we will have some possible results.”

“You’re doing so well at this job, im sure your position will level up when this is all over.”

“Thank you very much for your opinion, agent. Is good to hear that."

You smiled and so did he.

“Actually, i was thinking maybe the two of us...”

He was interrupted when that voice crossed the room, Peter's eyes rolled back in such a way that you thought they wouldn't come back.

“Y/n, you.... Hi agent Strahm, it's not a surprise to find you here, after all you chase her every day, don't you?”

Hoffman entered the room and had already started to accuse the agent, you sighed knowing what was coming.

"What? I think you’re the one who chases her every day by coming to this same room.”

Strahm stood up and you decided to say something.

“You two do this, and you want to know? I'm tired."

You stood up and took off your coat, leaving you with just your blouse, the men looked at you with a confused look. You went to the door and locked it.

“Well, i can't choose just one, i like both of you. And i guess i don’t have two holes for nothing.”

You explained with a smile on your face, both of their eyes widened.

"What do you mean by that?"

Strahm asked.

“Don't be silly. I can take both of you.”

You stood between the two and pulled each of their ties, who did you want to fool? Peter and Mark were two handsome, attractive men, good at talking and looking like they could give a great fuck, you just wanted to know if that was true or just something in your head. You had never tried double penetration, but it didn't seem like something that difficult to handle, and after all, there was a first time for everything.

“You want us to.... That? At the same time?"

Peter asked and you rolled your eyes, pretending you hadn't heard that question.

“Are you stupid or are you pretending? This slut wants us both to fuck her, but if you don’t want to i ll be happy, there’s more for me.”

Hoffman spoke without patience, your eyes lit up when you heard the way the detective had called you, you moaned feeling your hair being pulled back, seeing Peter with his hand gripping your locks, his personality seemed to have changed in a second.

"Not even. One piece for each, that's how prostitutes are treated. Honey, if you can’t handle it, it’s not our problem.”

Peter smiled and practically pushed you into Hoffman's arms, who grabbed you by the arms and threw you against the table, knocking all the papers and pens onto the floor. He placed you on all fours and forced your head down, his hands went to the belt of his pants, which he soon removed and his zipper was opened with the pants lowered, revealing his thick and large dick that was dripping with precum, you licked your lips before running his tongue all over Hoffman's length and putting it all in his mouth at once, starting to suck him, your tongue went around and around against his member, Mark sighed and moaned softly.

“You like it, don't you? Likes to suck an older man”

He said, grabbing your hair and starting to fuck your mouth, you choked every time you felt the tip of his dick touch your throat. You felt Strahm's hands on your ass, lifting your skirt up and removing your panties, he gave your ass a few slaps before you felt his hot tongue passing through all your parts from your asshole to your pussy, you moaned against Hoffman's cock, sending vibrations that made him groan, your eyes closed enjoying the feeling of Peter's tongue being rubbed, smearing all your parts.

“Not yet, bitch.”

The detective said and took his dick out of your mouth, making you let out an angry murmur, Strahm came out from behind you and soon the detective's dick was replaced by the agent's, it wasn't as big as his but it was thicker, anyway you were loving all those new sensations.

“I’m going to destroy that pussy.”

Hoffman spoke before thrusting himself inside you, making you roll your eyes at the unexpected pain of having your pussy being widened by his dick, before you could get used to his size he started to make rough movements inside you, sure enough to take out his anger at having been rejected so many times by you. You sucked and licked Peter's cock feeling Hoffman's balls hit your ass, causing a loud noise in the room. Fuck, there was no one else there but you guys.

“My turn.”

Peter spoke, lightly stroking your hair before leaving your mouth, Hoffman complained but soon left you, there was a small armchair nearby that you used sometimes. The agent's hands grabbed your waist and took you to the armchair, where he sat down and made you sit on his lap, you took a deep breath before taking his dick and fitting it at your entrance, the two of you moaned together, which sounded like to made Hoffman feel angry, he pushed you at once, making you lean more towards him, you felt the detective's cock brush your ass a few times before forcing himself inside you, you screamed against Peter's shoulder, feeling the pain and burning of your asshole being widened by his cock, tears ran down your face, but they both seemed to ignore it.

“Now the little bitch is going to cry? You chose this. Now can handle."

He said, squeezing your ass tightly, which probably left the mark of his hand there, Hoffman had a huge feeling of ownership when it came to you. You felt him enter at once and let out a silent scream, your eyes widened, Hoffman moaned loudly feeling how tight you were.

“Holy shit, you’re kneading my dick. It’s fucking tight.”

He spoke, making light movements and letting out a few grunts, Peter also started to move inside your pussy. It was a whole new sensation having two things filling your holes at the same time, you were torn between pain and pleasure, both on a slightly extreme level. You bit Peter's shoulder, feeling the detective increase his movements while the agent's hands opened your buttocks with the intention of making Hoffman fit better and increase his movements without hurting you so much in the process.

“Fuck, i had forgotten what it felt like to fuck such a tight pussy.”

Peter sighed, squeezing your waist tightly, now both men moved inside you with force, sweat ran down their faces and their moans mixed together. Peter's hand went to your clitoris where he started to make quick movements, you shivered and closed your eyes enjoying the sensation, Hoffman pulled your tank top up exposing your boobs and grabbed them, squeezing your nipples, you felt like you couldn't take it anymore all those sensations of pleasure at the same time.

“Enough, i-im going to cum.”

You warned, squeezing both of their cocks in your holes, a shock wave hit your body and you soon fell on Peter's shoulder, breathing heavily, they increased their movements in a rough tone and you screamed. The two gave a few more thrusts before you felt their hot liquids filling your holes, you breathed heavily, then they came out of you and Peter got up from the armchair, leaving you sitting there, you ignored the pain you were feeling.

"It saw? Now you don’t have to fight because of me, one piece for each.”

[ari-the-silly]

Ok so,,, i thought "hey, maybe i shiudl try to understand what has happened to the characteristic in rtc and how they changed",,,

Now,,, ive only thought abour ocean because, in Play to Win, she says "im calling mom" and something about living with her. So that means her parents are divorced and also, from what i have gathered, her parents arent hippies either. Her mother gives her the advice on how to win the debates at the start and if she actually managed to win, she would live with her mom. Everything goes fine and all, until the national debate, when a kid rolls in a wheelchair half an hour late. That kid needed an emergency blood transfusion and was on the verge of dying (3 weeks left to live). I now dont know if i looked at this wrong, but Ocean did start complaining about him being disabled, but im pretty sure she also started complaining that this kid could have used one of the cards she does (making people feel bad for her so she wins, as done in that small part where she says "im sorry my brother just died" when constance says she doesnt even have a brother). Honestly, I think Ocean would have been the person to say that that kid was lying and was using that catd to make people feel bad for him (knowing she already used it before and it worked well)

Anyways thats my amazing mischadactetixation for the night yall

[xamaxenta]

Marco having a jar of candy or a bowl of sweets in his office, as a treat for sitting through the nerve wracking process of seeing the doctor

Ace however helps himself whenever he sees fit

Saunters right on in and sticks his dirty mitts in the candy bowl, pops a hard boiled candy between his teeth and grins at Marco before crushing it with a snap of his jaw

Marco doesnt give him much reaction, lest he provoke further bad behaviour

If Ace is looking to persuade a rise from him, he wont find it here

Until the sweet jar gets refilled with lollipops, round cherry flavoured suckers and Ace incinerates the wrapping with a cheery hum and sticks the candy into his mouth, situating it along his left cheek whilst he makes himself comfortable on Marco’s nice chaise, for patients

Hes waiting

Marco likes the game but is vaguely infuriated at how intent Ace seems to be on winning, if he wanted something he wouldve asked by now, theyre well enough into their relationship to have that kind of ease

“Dont you have work to be getting on with?” Marco asks, terser than he wouldve liked to admit

Doesnt look over when Ace pulls the lollipop out from between his lips with a wet slick pop, the sound may as well have echoed within the confined space of the infirmary

“Yea.” Ace affirms, hard hot molten candy clicking against the enamel of his teeth as he leisurely enjoys his stolen treat, “Im on break though.”

Marco cant argue with that, breaks were important after all.

“When’s the last time you moved?” Ace speaks up before Marco can put voice to any of his further thoughts.

He hesitates, caught out by the question, “about an hour ago.”

“Youre a shitty liar.”

For some reason the instantaneous response prickles at Marco’s skin in a manner he didnt have time to unpick just yet, all he knows is Ace can read him, better than anticipated and he’s unsure about if he likes that or not.

“And you are being a disruption.”

“Since when has that ever bothered you.” Ace retorts, sucking noisily on his candy.

“Since today, I’d say I’m a little bothered yes.” Marco recognises his migraines, his phoenix will only suppress so much and he’s worried about the dual flu season incoming, theres been a shortage on the vaccine supply making it incredibly difficult for Marco to source any from a neutral vendor.

Ace kicks his desk.

Marco jumps and shoots the logia a warning glance.

Ace ignores this and kicks his chair instead. And then proceeds to blink and twirl the stick of his dwindling lollipop between his teeth, lips stained dark red from the dyed sugar.

“Ace.” Marco warns, exasperated and not in the mood to play whatever game he was after.

“Are you sufficiently bothered yet?” Ace ignores him again.

Marco frowns, sets down his pen. Ace raises his leg again, foot poised. Marco thinks he looks ridiculous like this, half reclined with his legs spread open like a—

For fucks sake.

Ace kicks out again with intent and Marco catches him by the ankle, grasping him in full and yanking him in, the legs of the chaise screeching along the floor as Ace takes the furniture with him lest he fall off.

Marco glances between the spread of his legs to the dark sugar red of Ace’s mouth, the brazen look in his eyes and back to the heave of his ribcage, surprise shorting out his breathing into something fluttery and new

The phoenix recognises trapped prey and Marco allows her to clip instinct over his humanity

“And you thought seducing me was the best course of action.”

Its rhetorical

It worked

They both know it did

Ace grins, crunches down on his treat and spits out the little plastic stick to claim his prize

Kissing Marco tastes like cherries and salt and something they’d both like to surmise is due to their devil fruits, bitter and astringent, ozone if it could be tasted, fire if it could be anything other than spicy

“Mm, so are you bothered yet cuz you kinda feel—“ Ace mumbles over the press of Marco’s lips to his own, Marco bites at his lip

“Shut up.”

[verdantlights]

Modern AU Headcanons

For all 7 of my ocs!! :3

all of their ethnicities/nationalities are canon to the ALNST universe too, but theyre just more applicable in a modern au.

The artwork I did for each of them isnt fully colored like how i originally planned, simply because this took FUCKING FOREVER. (17 hours??? all 7 ocs just to this basic color with 17 hours and 25k strokes??? according to procreate???) and i was so ready to be done with it, ive been talking about this for like ages and i knew that if i didnt finish this before Blink Gone dropped,,,, itd never get finished.

i also have other stuff i need/want to work on in regards to my ocs SO. if the art looks half-assed, im calling it a design choice 🎀

Toki (Redone):

He'd be a dancer that runs a choreography channel on youtube and tiktok. A really popular/famous content creator.

He's Asian! (South Korean)

Fluent in English/Korean.

Would probably face a lot of controversy for making strange jokes about cannibalism, but he never stays down when cancelled. (hes so schlatt core)

He's not a horrible person in a modern au. He's relatively normal, if not for the fact that he is still an orphan and still clinically mentally ill. He's just not toxic. He still has his cunt and freak but... he just doesn't manipulate, mansplain, and manslaughter anymore.

He's only toxic and awful as hell in ALNST because of the dystopian circumstances. His toxicity is seasoning to the tragedy that is ALNST.

He is still an orphan and his first memories would be in the orphanage where he was pretty much alone. People thought he was strange.

I'd like to believe he was selectively mute for quite a long time, which was another reason why people called him strange.

Still has the habit of studying peoples behaviors and learning them entirely for his own benefit. He wouldn't use it against someone unless absolutely necessary in a modern au.

He gets adopted when he's 13 by a kind, older man. He homeschools Toki and puts him in sports and recreational activities of his choice.

Toki chooses gymnastics and dance, contorting and moving his body at his will gives him a sense of control that he always felt he was never privileged to.

He didn't start talking until he was 16. His first words were, "Thank you, dad."

As an adult, as I said above, Toki runs a choreo channel on tiktok and youtube that gets a lot of traction. He enjoys having fans because it makes him feel less alone.

He's still possessive over Inna, but it's only because Toki struggles with feeling a sense of belonging and a home to come back to, and Inna becomes that home for him.

He has a streetwear aesthetic!

Of course, Toki still has his obsessive and possessive personality, that will never go away. It ends up rearing his head towards Inna, but I'm pretty sure Inna likes it anyway, the 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴.

Didn't go to college because his socmed took off before he graduated, sustaining him really well financially.

Friends with Ichor! Travels to Korea with him sometimes, but usually prefers to stay in America since that's where he was taken to when he was adopted.

Innamorati belongs to @alien-til-i-stage <3

Clove:

He is Latino! (Dominican/Caribbean)

His right eye is a lazy eye and he wears glasses. They're silver round frames that he sometimes puts a neck chain on.

His hair is dyed the same, but the dark brown is really short and cut to be fluffy/messy while keeping his long sides/short bangs!

He has a dark academia aesthetic mixed with a little bit of cottagecore. He's a lot more comfortable in his skin in regards to his gender so he wears skirts and dresses sometimes.

Spends his time at the library a lot, enjoys library dates with Aster (and also coffee shop dates).

He is fluent in Spanish and English.

He only has his ear lobes pierced and keeps small silver studs in them at all times.

Still trans, of course! He gets top surgery and a hysterectomy in a modern au (projecting what I personally want lmao)

All of his siblings are alive, and are still all named after flowers!

His upbringing was really peaceful, if not for having a very alive and loud household with 6 kids, him included.

His parents and siblings are all incredibly accepting and they all helped pitch in to get his top surgery done for his birthday one year <3

He inherited his parents flower shop and runs it now! His parents own the parent company to the flower shop, so all 6 children own one of said shops around the state!

He majored in Biology in college.

A lot of the neglect and trauma he faced in ALNST/ANAKT was only specific to the universe. He would lead a relatively normal and peaceful life, otherwise :)

Aster belongs to @apriciticreveries <3

Horizon:

He is American!

Horizon is incredibly smart and is an astrophysicist! He took it in college and has been hyperfixated on space since he was a kid.

Is the most visibly/recognizably autistic OC out of all of my OCs. All of my OCs are neurodivergent in some way because of my own neurodivergency, but Horizon takes the cake because his modern au mother (based on Scorpius) is also autistic. She raised him to not be forced into a mask.

Scorpius is a single mom and loves space as well, teaching Horizon all about it when he was a kid. Over time she grew more distant and would only connect with her son when its about his interest in space, or in regards to what happens at NASA.

Horizon is aware of his mothers distance and neglect and wishes things could go back to when he was a kid and she wasn't so distant.

He is still a narcolept, but is medicated and in physical therapy to help combat it.

He works at NASA! He makes good money and has discovered a lot of new stars!

He's more vocal in a modern au! He'd still go nonverbal a lot, but he'd also open up more and be less distant.

He still yaps about stars and space as much as possible.

He does not have stars in his eyes. I kinda feel like that goes without saying, but he does have dark grey-blue eyes.

Fond of Seraph and likes to study it. Fully aware something is wrong with it and that it definitely does not belong in his world, but finds it intriguing all the same.

Does not have a set dress style, he mostly dresses for comfort. He does have a lot of NASA merchandise and space/galaxy themed clothing, though. (would 100% have that blue and pink galaxy wolf hoodie at one point)

Seraph:

Still not human, and I will not elaborate as to why!

Also still uses He/Hy/It (Hy/Hymn).

It's a lot creepier in a modern au, actually. This is because the dystopian setting of ALNST makes it a bit more... usual and acceptable for Seraph to be uncanny? However, in a modern au... that's not the case.

People do NOT vibe with it more often than not.

Hy is British.

He is still albino with void-like eyes.

It majors in psychology and went to the same college as Horizon. This is related to his special talent,,, but that isn't released yet. :)

Still horribly enamored with Horizon and follows him around and studies him.

Horizon doesn't mind hymn and honestly knows somethings not right with Seraph, but he doesn't really care and actually likes to study Seraph back. (and seraph couldnt be happier about it, tbh)

Not a lot changes about Seraph, in all honesty. Hy doesn't really belong in the ALNST universe, what makes you think hy'd belong in the modern universe?

The things that do change, like it's echoing voice and it's staticky/distorted laugh, are gone because it personally stopped using them.

It's style is... elegant goth with some... cyber goth? Kinda strange and hard to describe but he does understand the morals and values of goth culture and music and upholds those values.

Lowkey an anarchist but you didn't hear that from me.

He is Horizon's roommate.

Seraph likes to believe their mutual studying of each other is what a romantic relationship entails.

Horizon spoils Seraph a lot... he has to do something with the money he gets from NASA.

He still does not like animals or Ichor.

Ichor:

He is still a catboy. He's not even like... a kemonomimi. He's just a fucking catboy.

If not an actual catboy, he would be a therian and/or kemonomimi. (kemonomimi directly translates to animal ears i believe? kemonomimis are just people who enjoy wearing animal ears/tails.)

He is also Asian! (South Korean)

Has a lot of mixed aesthetics, but enjoys crossdressing (in a cute way) and ouji fashion/lolita.

Autistic with selective mutism and is nonverbal more often than not. He is fluent in both ASL and KSL as well as spoken English/Korean. This is canon to the ALNST universe, but he is fully mute in canon.

Would probably be a professional gymnast. I'm talking like Olympics... professional.

Takes the fame from being a professional gymnast and becomes a content creator to show off his impeccable fashion sense.

100% dating and smitten with Briar. I'm assuming Briar would be a doctor in a modern au (akane, you can correct me if I'm wrong), and if that's the case, then Ichor would make a bunch of "woe is me, I need a doctor" jokes to Briar.

He'd immediately go to Briar if he gets hurt during performances.

Would actually be friends with Toki!! Both as a content creator and as a gymnast. They would get along very well due to overlapping interests, even more so when Ichor learns that Toki was mute for a long time.

Sometimes takes up gigs/jobs as a Sign Translator for both KSL and ASL.

Recognized as a Fashion Idol in Korea.

Frequently travels back and forth between South Korea and America due to this. ^ (his boyfriend misses him...)

Also did not go to college! He went straight into professional gymnastics and makes a living off of it! If he could go back to school, though, he would want to study the arts!

All of his hair is naturally white! He was based off of a white Turkish Angora cat, and since his hair was dyed against his will in ALNST, that wouldn't be the case in the MAU. He's only pink in his art because that's his color <3

Briar belongs to @aakaneeee <3

Lys:

She is Creole and born and raised in Louisiana!

Fluent in both Cajun French and normal French. She was a French immersion kid! (as in she learned french as she learned english in school growing up)

An amazing cook and loves to cook for her family and friends.

Has a brother and a sister, but she is the oldest. She loves her family and is very protective over them, same with her friends.

A big party-goer and social butterfly, she is the life and light of the party. She stays humble about it, but she can't deny how nice it makes her feel that people like her so much.

Dominates karaoke like it's no ones business. She loves singing and was in the church choir growing up.

She grew up Catholic, but is currently Agnostic.

Still a lesbian, and is very open about it. She is a strong advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and goes to as many Pride Parades as possible during pride month.

LOVES HER GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!!!!! EVEREST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Her favorite way to wear her hair is super long box braids with bright colored weave, usually orange or red, but she's done the whole rainbow before!

Majors in cosmetology!

Wants to be a fashion designer, and is also building a socmed presence!! Her childhood dream was to work at Hollywood as a SFX/Makeup artist! (She still kinda does, but is okay with working for any movie company, honestly)

Has a streetwear and Y2K aesthetic! She likes to explore a bunch of other fashion cultures, but normally ends up falling back to those two as a base/familiar ground.

Is really good friends with Clove! She knows him through Everest, who had befriended him in overlapping college courses. Clove approached Everest and became friends with him before she introduced Clove to Lys. They all like to hang out together :]

Everest:

She is Australiannnnn!!!!

Still albino!

She does have the sensitive skin and eyesight in the modern world, though. She is not genetically modified, therefore she has really powerful glasses and is covered a lot.

Wears a lot of loose flowy clothing and big sunhats to protect himself from the sun.

Also still intersex!

Still feels 60% femme and 40% masc with very little in between. Doesn't mind being referred to as androgyne, but prefers either or, rather than in between.

She is sapphic and horribly in love with her girlfriend, Lys.

Is a lot less morally grey in a modern au and is a lot more like Luna Lovegood, one of her inspirations.

His morality in ALNST comes from the dystopian setting, being used as a toy for the segyein after winning, and being a pet in general. Since that doesn't happen in the modern day, he doesn't have that trauma to influence him.

She takes second place on most visibly autistic. (Ichor takes third)

Majored in Chemistry and wants to be a chemist.

Has overlapping classes with Clove and is friends with him!

Comes from a pretty wealthy family and was raised prim and proper. Her parents believed she'd be better off presenting as a boy, but once she realized her autonomy, she refused it entirely and told her parents that she will live how she wants and that her body is hers to dictate.

Her parents don't like that she switches back and forth between masc and femme, but she could not give less of a fuck and honestly does it a little bit out of spite.

He still loves his parents... kinda. He has the mentality of "they gave me life and raised me, I should be grateful andlove them all the same." He just wishes they weren't so bitchy over his body and what he does with it. They can't say anything either considering he plans on being a chemist, and they're both very fond of the idea that their child is smart and will bring in more money.

They're also lowkey homophobic and only give Lys a pass because they see Everest as a boy more often than not. They still don't quite like Lys because she is a full lesbian/sapphic and sees Ever as femme.

Enjoys travelling a lot!!

Has a socmed presence through Lys and appears as a duo with her a lot. People love them together and give them a lot of the stereo contrasting ship types (fire/ice, blue/red, black/white, etc)

It not famous on her own! I don't think she would actively seek out a socmed presence of her own and would be content with being featured on Lys' socmed. He was only famous in ALNST for winning s36, he did not ask for that.

thats about it!! sorry its so long, but... i love my children... so...

anyways, taglist!! no pressure to respond <3 @rockwgooglyeyes @bluemoonscape @tsukacchako @starry-skiez @junebluues @yunoftheclouds @waterydream @pwippy @ivanttakethis @nottoonedin

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

Grabby Hands (fluff)

Requested?: No

words: 1194

One Shot: Damian gets overwhelmed at a gala and Jason is willing to save him.

overwhelmed!Damian Wayne & bigbrother!Jason Todd

I have no idea what i am compensating with this but enjoy (Im very nervous to post this but yolo (im dying inside))

Damian Wayne hated his father's galas with a passion. Not for the same reason as Bruce though. Bruce hated the fakeness of these events. For Damian the lights were too bright, the people too many and too intense and every interaction too unpredictable.

His father made sure to introduce him to these kind of attention as early as possible. The excitement over Bruce Wayne's biological son was ginormous and Gotham was crazy to finally be introduced to the 10-year-old.

Damian hated the attention. The journalists. The flashing lights and the never ending paranoia that every false step would end up being abused on Twitter or in the next edition of the Gotham Times or Gotham Gazette. You never know.

Secretly, Damian looked up at Dick for his ability to easily handle these social events, as much as he hated them himself. It was like a skill. A skill that he couldn't seem to figure out. He always got stressed before the events which only increased over the course of the evening.

Most of the times, he managed to work through these events and then would hide in his room for three days until the noises were back to normal and he could talk to someone again without snapping at anyone or going non-verbal again.

Today's gala was different. Bad. Very bad to be exact. Damian had forgotten the reason for this event. It took place at Wayne Manor so Bruce must have had serious reasons to host it but Damians brain was empty tonight.

The suit was too itchy. Why do they make suits out of wrong material? The tie was too tight. Breathing, he needed oyxgen! Damian fumble around with his tie a little.

"Misses Davenport, this is my son Damian." Damians gaze shot up. Right in front off him stood an elder women with a babyblue and silver-sparkly dress. A silver tiara throned on her grey perm. She was far past her best ages. She smelled like old lady.

He couldn't remember who the women that his father just introduced him to was. Where did she come from? With who was she here? How was he supposed to talk to her?

Damian forced himself to smile at her. He had practiced this smile in front of the mirror a million times after his father told him to not look so grumpy when they were in public all the time.

"Oh, aren't you the sweetest." The women cooed, her voice was too high-pitched. She ruffled Damian's hair. He wanted to wince, his skin was sensitive, she needed to stop touching him!

Halfway through the gala, Damian wanted to scream and cry. The lights made his eyes burn and all these voices seemed to flood over him. After he had spent 15 minutes in the bathroom, he had followed Jason around for the last half an hour like a stray kitten to avoid getting caught up in a one-to-one conversation.

While Jason was caught up in a conversation with god knows who, Damian's gaze wandered off into the distance. The dark night was nice. He wanted to wander off into the dark and curl up somewhere nice and silent. Wander off to a quiet place where he could cuddle Titus and Alfred the Cat and just be. He wondered if someone would noticed if he would disappear from this event to spend some times with his pets. Maybe a short visit to Batcow was just what he needed...

"Hey Shorty. Sup?" Damian snapped out of the very comfortable train of thoughts about his pets. Jason was standing right in front of him and looking down at him.

Damian looked at him puzzled. After a few moments, he opened his mouth but his throat was shut tight. Luckily Jason just continued talking without waiting for his answer. "You've been rocking on your toes and staring off into the distance for the last 20 minutes. What's wrong with you?" Jason asked. Suddenly he squad down to Damian's height.

Damian tried to say something but the noises were back and the bright light was replacing the darkness he was craving. The words got stuck in his throat together with a desperate sob. At this point he was done. His brain was cooked, his skin was burning.

Withdrawal.

Damian extended his hands a little and made weak grabby hands towards Jason. Jason rolled his eyes but proceeded to pick Damian up. "Told B you couldn't take 'dis shit again." Damian heard Jason murmur while he hid his face into the older boys neck to block out the light.

Damian felt Jason walking, he was embarassed but at the same time he was finally out of responsibility and able to relax a little. He stiffened up a little as he heard a high pitched voice.

"Ohh, poor boy. What happened?" The women in the blue dress, Damian was able to recogize a light Gotham accent in her voice now. "Oh, it is already way past his bedtime. He is very tired." Jason chuckled, it was obviousy fake. Other than Damian, the elder woman didn't seem to recognize the fakeness because she dropped the conversation immediatly.

Damian felt Jason walking for a while before he headed up some stairs. The noises started to subside in the distance. Suddenly, the chilly temperature of the garden disappeared and it got significantly warmer. Jason had carried him into the manor and was now heading upstairs again, probably carrying Damian into his room.

"Im gonna kill you, Todd." Damian grumbled into Jasons neck while he fumbled with his tie to loosen it a little.

Jason chuckled, Damian could feel his chest vibrating against his smaller body. "Sure thing, babybird, kill me all you want. You were the one making grabby hands." Damian growled embarassed and buried his face deeper into Jason's shoulder.

Jason opened Damian's bedroom door with his elbow and pushed it open with his hip. He set the smaller boy down on the queen size bed and Damian curled up immediatly. It was dark, the only light came from the moon shining through the half-opened curtains. The event taking place in the garden was barely audible from here.

Damian immediatly wanted to doze off when something soft hit his face. He blinked drowsily, Jason had thrown his pyjamas in his face. "Change." He ordered while he was already heading back out to the door. "Need something else?" He asked while he turned around again.

Damian looked at his pyjamas for a few moments before he looked up. "Cat." He said finally. Jason gave him a smirk but nodded. "I'll go find your feline friend, you change." Before Damian could answer someting, Jason had closed the door.

The younger boy slowly started to open his tie and the buttons of his jacket. After what seemed like eternity, Damian had changed into his pyjamas and his gala clothes laid forgotton on the floor. His skin slowly stopped burning when it touched the cool sheets and when his head touched his pillow, he sighed deeply.

Damian Wayne hated his father's galas with a passion. But at least there were people to understand his grabby hands.

-----

Same thing on Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55397962

[labrxnth]

Prison Break- Part 5 (Leon Kennedy x Reader Series)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CW: Death Island spoilers, suicidal thoughts/tendencies

WC: 5350 (whoops)

Summary: You and your co-worker Leon Kennedy are sent on a mission to rescue a kidnapped robotic engineer Dr. Antonio Taylor. The journey for him leads the two of you to somewhere you thought you would never go, Alcatraz.

A/n: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG. I graduated my students, I fell ill, and I had an ADHD fueled hyperfixation on a specific pale elf made by Larion Studios so here it finally it. I hope the length makes up for the month of silence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

January 27th, 2015 

You and Leon had been working together for a year and a half. Last year, you two defeated Glen Arias alongside Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers. This year, things were relatively quiet. You hated to say it, but it was quiet. 

You were sitting at your desk that was against the wall in now you and Leon’s shared office. A crate of ice coffee was melting, the condensation dripping from the cups onto the top of your desk. Glancing at the clock, you bit your lip. Normally, Leon would be out of a meeting with the President within an hour, but it was now an hour and 15 minutes, something was up. 

And with it being quiet lately, you could only speculate another big mission was popping up. 

The door opened and Leon walked into the office, looking exhausted and drained. Over the past half a year he had really pulled himself together. His eyes looked more present, less glossed over. He had grown his hair out more, stopped dying it, and styled it like he used to when you first joined. He was also very proud that he started lifting again, something he said that he did all the time in his 20s. 

And all that personal care paid off, because even though he was exhausted from his meeting, he still looked gorgeous. You thought he was really attractive when you joined the D.S.O. and even last year when he had lost a bit of weight and had his depressed alcoholic arc. But you didn’t know just how attractive he could be, and it still amazed you. 

“Are you going to tell me… or….” You said and looked at him. 

He took his coffee out of the tray on your desk and pat your head. Your eyes trailed him to his desk. 

“We have another mission coming up,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he sat down. He took a sip of his coffee and relaxed in his chair. 

Leon had told you multiple times about his relationship with the past few presidents. Apparently, President Graham scared him shitless when he “asked” Leon to rescue his daughter and he was intimidated by him until his terms ended. President Benford was like a mentor to him and helped found the D.S.O. with Leon; they were pretty close until Leon had to kill him a few years ago. Now, Leon was drained from all the politics of the new guy. 

You smiled to yourself a little bit because you were right about the mission. “You know that’s just watered down coffee, right?” You asked, looking at his iced americano, trying to lighten the mood.

He looked at you from his desk, almost scoffing in reply. “Like I’m gonna take coffee advice from you. You’d guzzle the grounds if you could,” He said, turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. 

You sat there with your mouth open, not knowing how to reply to that. Closing your mouth, you turned back to your laptop, typing away at a case file. 

“We have to go to New York,” Leon said after a few seconds of silence. “We’re going to attend an upcoming biology summit and check in on a few things.” 

“Meaning, there’s a potential virus being sold?” You asked. The past few months after dealing with Arias had been mostly doing work for the government, so bounty hunting and few and far between B.O.W. hunting. 

Leon nodded and your heart jumped with excitement. It was kind of morbid to put it this way, but you loved work like this. This was why you joined the D.S.O.

“We’ll be undercover so be on your best behavior,” Leon said. 

“Yessir,” you said and jokingly saluted. 

“And another thing…. We’ll be undercover as a couple… so try to pretend like you like me,” Leon said and grinned. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

January 30, 2015

Ingrid’s eyes trailed up and down your figure, looking at the dress and seeing if it complimented your skin tone and hair color. The D.S.O. was providing the wardrobe for the mission, the racks of dresses they had filled you and Leon’s office. 

When the racks were brought in, Ingrid didn’t explain why the D.S.O. had so many when you and Sherry were technically the only female agents. She also kicked Leon out of the office so she could help you try on the dresses and pick out the one. 

You were standing in the middle of the office, a burgundy coloured dress hugging your figure. The bodice had straps that fell off the shoulder, corset ribbing, and enough cleavage to make your mother pass out while still keeping it classy. The bottom hugged your figure on one side and had a long slit on the other, trailing up to your thigh. It felt Greek and Romantic, while also being modern. 

You felt like a million bucks. 

“Wow,” Ingrid said, looking over you again. “With your hair and makeup done, you could probably get it at the summit,” she added and chuckled. 

You looked down at the dress. “Why does the D.S.O. have this?” You asked again, clearly stuck on the question. Sherry Birkin hadn’t been back from traveling for a mission in years, and she was pretty young, so it genuinely made no sense to you. 

“Does it matter?” Ingrid replied. “The D.S.O. keeps them just in case. A lot of times they’re purchased for the mission. Tax write offs and stuff.”

You nodded in reply, letting Ingrid touch up the dress a little bit. 

“This will go nicely with what Leon’s wearing…” she said, mentally taking notes. She walked over to a box and pulled out a pair of heels higher than you had ever worn before. 

“Are you trying to get my ankle snapped in half?” You asked and looked at her in shock. 

“You’ve worn heels before, what’s a few more inches? And they’re designer, when else will you get a chance to wear them?” She asked. 

If you weren’t in awe of the shoes, you would have glared at her. “True…” you trailed off and tried the heels on. 

“Okay, now take everything off and I’ll pack them away,” Ingrid said and turned around so you could change. 

After handing the dress and shoes to her, you put your regular clothes on, feeling less like a million bucks. Ingrid put the dress and shoes in a suitcase along with a box of jewelry. 

“Alright… I’ll leave these with you. Good luck,” She said and smiled at you. 

You walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. No amount of hugs could make up for her landing you this job, or even just being your friend when you got lost in the sea of USSTRATCOM agents. But still, it was the thought that counted.

The two of you hugged each other for a good while, making a silent promise to work hard and for you to make it back in one piece. “I’ll try not to drive you insane this time,” you said and smiled at her. 

“You know better than making promises you can’t keep,” she replied and chuckled. The two of you broke the hug. 

The room was littered with clothing racks and  discarded dresses. “I’ll help you bring the racks back,” You said, looking around the room. 

“Don’t bother, I’ll have it done in two trips tops. And you need to get going, check in time for the hotel ends at 11pm,” she said. 

You nodded and picked up your bag and suitcase. “Talk to you later,” you said and gave her a toothy, warm, smile as you walked out the door. 

Walked through the D.S.O. office, you made your way to your locker, grabbing the duffel bag you carried around on missions. It had your knives, guns, and pretty much a small armory in it. 

“Ready to get going?” Leon asked, walking up next to you to go through his locker. 

“Yup,” you replied, slinging the duffel bag over your shoulder. 

“Let’s get going then,” he said, smiling at you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

January 31, 2015

“Name?” 

“Nathalie Oakes,” you replied, confident in your fake persona. The two of you, you and Leon were putting the finishing touches on your outfits. With a job like this, all of the details mattered, how he cuffed his sleeves, what you wore for jewelry, everything. 

“My name?” Leon asked, fixing the collar of his blazer and undershirt. He was wearing a suit that was matching the dress shade, his blazer and undershirt being the same shade. His tie was black and so were the pants. The way he had his shirt and blazer, the shirt was unbuttoned a little bit so his chest was slightly out. Almost like he had cleavage, which if you were honest he kind of did. That man worked on his chest like he was paid to do it. 

“Edward Wingate,” you answered. Your fingers gently pulled the top off of the velvet covered jewelry box, staring at the almost blinding gold necklace. Picking it up, you were trying to figure out how to clasp and unclasp it with your nails.

Ingrid had treated you to a manicure the other day. Adorning your fingertips were acrylics, nude colored and almond shaped. When you had asked how to shoot or fight in them, you were met with snickers and were told to figure it out yourself. 

So you did. Spending the last few days in the shooting ring and training rooms, making sure you were confident in your abilities with the nails on your hands. A chuckle came from behind you and Leon’s hand gently grabbed the necklace. “Need help?” He asked. 

You nodded in reply and pulled your hair up so he could put the necklace on you. 

“It's funny, I’ve seen you kick ass hundreds of times and you’re getting stuck on trying to put a necklace on,” He said, the everpresent teasing fronting his voice. 

“It’s these damn nails. I have so much respect for people that function with these things. And I can still kick your ass with these on,” You retorted, earning another chuckle from the man behind you. 

Looking at the mirror, you saw a reflection of a life you could only dream of. A woman dressed up to the nines and her partner helping with her jewelry. The juxtaposition to what your reality was was almost taunting. Where there were ivory colored gloves in the mirror, there was usually blood; yours and others’. The hair that fell smoothly like silk sat on top of the head that was filled with nightmares. Nothing in the mirror was a true reflection, except for the man behind you. 

You dreamed of finding the one person who got you, emotionally and physically. One who always had your back and would be there for you on the nights where you remembered the blood filled apartment in Manchester. Leon was the one person in your life who could quell the cold isolation, the icy, crushing feeling of your past. He didn’t know about your feelings for him, he couldn’t. 

Even if the feelings for him overwhelmed you in only a way that a full symphonic orchestra could. His smile made the world feel a little brighter, his laughter made life sweeter, He was like honey added to coffee, something that made a bitter drink sweet and a different palate. 

“Alright, done,” Leon said and pat your shoulder lightly. 

Your eyes looked at the gold adorning your neck and you smiled. “Thanks,” you said warmly and turned around to get the purse that matched your dress. The feeling of someone staring at you made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, something you had from the STRATCOM training. 

Looking in the mirror to your left you saw Leon staring at you, something that happened quite a bit, but this time it was differently charged. Something was fueling the look on his face, but as usual, he was hard to read. He noticed you looking at him in the reflection of the mirror and he turned his face towards the wall, pretending like he wasn't staring at you.

“You ready?” You asked, willing to ignore that he was blatantly staring at you. 

“Yeah,” He replied and grabbed his Sentinel 9, sliding it into his blazer and through his shoulder holster under the jacket. 

Turning towards your bed, you grabbed your holster, fastening it to your thigh under the dress. The slit was on the other thigh so it wouldn’t reveal the holster. 

“Ready Miss Oakes?” Leon mused, holding his arm out for you. 

“Ready Mr. Wingate,” You replied, smiling a bit and taking his arm. This all felt wrong, but right at the same time. What would it feel like if instead of a mission, this was your reality? What if instead of heaving Edward Wingate on your side you had Leon Kennedy? It was jarring, as jarring as the emotions you had been trying to sort out the last few months. Swimming somewhere between your heart and your brain were your complicated emotions. 

They really weren’t complicated, your situation was. 

If Leon wasn’t your coworker and technically your superior, you would’ve tried to go for it, but the reality was that your lives could get messy. You didn’t want him to potentially get in trouble for fraternization, you didn’t want your relationship to change if there was rejection, and most importantly you didn’t want either of your potential deaths to hurt more. 

If you left your feelings unsaid, the chance of you or Leon dying wouldn’t sting as much. So, your feelings were buried between your tight lips, unspoken and never going to be explored.

“You okay? You seem lost in thought,” Leon said, his eyes meeting yours. The clicks of your high heels and his shoes were echoing through the hall on the way to the elevator. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, just thinking about the mission,” You replied as the two of you stepped into the elevator. Your gloved finger pressed the 6 button.

“Our target is a potential C-virus sample. Most of the summit will be held on the 6th floor and a lot of the vendors will be here starting tomorrow. Tonight is the dinner party that starts off the summit. Everyone will be busy socializing and drinking,” Leon reminded you. 

“Meaning tonight is our best bet to get in and out unnoticed,” You said, smiling. 

“Meaning, our job will be a lot easier if we get it tonight,” He said. 

The elevator opened to the 6th floor, warm yellow lights illuminating the space. The room was open, the venue taking up the whole floor. Across the walls were floor to ceiling windows, the city lights coloring the dark horizon and sky. The floor was dark wood, glossy in finish, and the ceiling was an off gray color with golden details. All over the room were circular tables with chairs around them, the tables adorned with empty champagne glasses, cutlery, napkins, plates, and candles. 

“I feel like I don’t belong here,” You said quietly. The last undercover mission you went on was almost the polar opposite of this. 

“Don’t let them make you feel inferior. They’ll see through the disguise,” Leon assured you as you two walked into the room more. “And don’t sell yourself short. More importantly, don’t let rich assholes sell yourself short. You’re worth more than everything in this room put together,” He added. 

You smiled a bit, redness slightly painting the tips of your ears. “Thanks for the confidence boost. I’ll make sure to put this down as one of the only times you were sweet to me,” You said, looking at him. He opened his lips to say something, but closed them as someone was making their way over to you two with a clipboard. 

“Good evening, I presume you’re here for the North Eastern Biotech Summit?” The man said. He was dressed in a usual black tie suit. He stood around 5’11”, being only a few inches taller than Leon and looked to be around your age. 

You didn’t miss how Leon almost changed into a completely new person with his energy level and atmosphere. You also didn’t miss how his arm suddenly snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him. The corners of your mouth upturned into a warm friendly smile at the contact and the man in front of the two of you. 

It was all for the mission, that’s what you convinced yourself. Being a couple, that was for the mission, but enjoying it? That wasn’t part of the mission. 

“Of course! Edward Wingate, and this is my lovely fiancé, soon to be Mrs. Wingate,” Leon said, his voice sounding like silk. As he spoke, he pulled you close to him, squeezing the two of you in a side hug. 

The man in front of the two of you checked his clipboard, his eyes skimming down the list of names on his sheet. His eyes lit up when he saw the two names you presented. 

“Ah yes, Mr. Wingate and Ms. Oakes,” He replied, putting the clipboard down and gesturing to a table. “Let me help you find your seat,” He added. The two of you followed the man to a table in the corner of the room. 

As you got closer to the table, you tried to process all the people here, their fancy clothes, and their arm candies. The people paired with the lights, and the complete lack of smell in the room was almost too much for you to handle. 

Leon and you sat down at the table, your hands immediately going to the glass filled with water. The cool liquid made its way down your throat and relief was evident on your face. As you put your glass down, another couple sat next to Leon, their outfits as extravagant as the venue. There was a man and a woman, the woman looking slightly older than the man. 

“Hello! You weren’t here last year, it’s always good to meet a new supporter,” The woman said and outstretched her hand to Leon. After they shook hands, she outstretched the same hand to you, which you took as elegantly as you could. 

“Finally got invited to join in on the summit this year. We’re excited to see what the latest developments in biotech are,” Leon replied, smiling at the two of them. He lightly put his hand on your thigh, the warmth spreading through your body. If you were drinking, you would have almost choked on the water. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Blaire, this is Ambrose,” The woman said and gestured to the young man next to her. Looking at his hand, you could see the two of them were engaged, the gold engagement rings sparkling. You slid your hand onto the tablecloth, so the two of them could observe that you and Leon were also “engaged”. 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Im Edward, this is Nathalie,” Leon gestured to you, almost showing you off. Your mind wandered off to thinking about what if it was Leon who was showing you off, not Edward showing off Nathalie. Could you ever make him proud to introduce other people to you?

“The summit this year is said to be the biggest yet,” Blaire said. Her midnight blue dress was stunning against her skin. The gold jewelry could catch anyone’s eyes. 

“That so? It certainly is a special night,” Leon said and chuckled a bit. You were surveying the room, seeing where the wait staff and other people were coming out of, making it look like you were taking in the decor. 

A frazzled worker coming out a door directly across the room from your table caught your eye. From your seat, you could see shelves and what looked like a storage room, or a green room that the items being showcased in could stay while waiting for tomorrow. 

Your eyes glanced back over to the couple sitting next to Leon and you smiled warmly at them, playing the role of the pretty arm candy that didn’t talk much. 

“We’re going to the bar for a few drinks, want to come?” Ambrose asked warmly and gestured to the bar on the opposite end of the room. It was close to the storage room you saw earlier.

Before Leon could object, you spoke for the two of you. “Of course,” You replied with a smile. 

As the two of them got up, Leon looked at you, his eyes asking for an explanation. Giving him a look back, your eyes told him, trust me, I have a plan already. He nodded in acknowledgement and you two got up, following Blaire and Ambrose. 

The four of you got to the bar counter and you looked up at Leon. “Hey, honey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom, could you just get me a vodka lemonade?” You asked and held his elbow lightly. 

Leon’s eyes twinkled a little bit, him knowing what you were really saying. “Of course, I’ll hold your drink for you,” He said. Before you walked away, he leaned in and kissed the top of your head. 

Your rational side knew why he did it, it was strictly to play your parts, but the part of you that dreamt about a different life fluttered when his lips met your head. Heat ran to your face as you blushed and started walking towards the bathroom. 

If there was one thing you didn’t want, it was for Leon to see the red painted across your cheeks. Then your feelings would be questioned. 

Making sure no one was watching, you walked past the bathroom and towards the storage closet. 

The first thing you noticed about the room was that it was cold, like a walk in freezer. The next thing you noticed were the lights, they were a cold blue hue, no warmth found in them at all. The very last thing you noticed was the lack of smell. Where the scent of mildew and/or dust would be filling your noses there was nothing. Not even the various cleaners on the shelf were creating a smell. 

Looking around the room, you saw various gadgets and displays set up for the summit. Each piece was on its own roll out table,but one in particular caught your eye. On a smaller display table, there was a closed briefcase. If you were lucky, the vial containing the virus sample would be in there, if not, you would have to survive more socializing. 

Walking over to it, your eyes traced over the case, looking for any signs of vents or anything else that could be a trap. Clearing the case, you brought your finger up to your earpiece. 

“Condor 2 to Roost, I found the delivery. Am I cleared to grab it?” You asked.  

“Condor 2, good job. You’re cleared to grab it,” Ingrid’s voice rang out in your earpiece. 

You nodded to yourself and studied the case again, making sure it wasn’t trapped. Flicking the clasps open, you saw the vial. Inside of the small glass container was a red substance that looked almost sticky. Reaching out to it, your hand went to grab it. 

Suddenly, you felt a strong sting of heat course through your hand. Smelling a burning sort of smell, you ripped your hand away from the glass and looked at it, seeing a second degree burn forming through the glove you were wearing. Snickering in annoyance, you bunched up both of your gloves and picked up the vial, stuffing it in your purse and thinking of a way to conceal the burn on your hand. 

Walking out of the storage room, you made your way back to Leon and the others getting their drinks. Leon went to hand you your glass, but his eyes immediately caught on to the burned palm of your hand. His eyebrow raised in questioning and the look you gave in response didn’t ease his worries. 

“Well, it’s been good to meet you two, I think Nathalie is feeling rather ill. We’re gonna head back to our room,” Leon said, looking over at the two he had walked to the bar with. 

Blaire and Ambrose nodded in respect and left to go back to the table. Leon’s eyes went back to your hand, concern written across his face. 

“You gonna tell me what happened?” He asked. 

“I suggest that we get back to the room then have this conversation before the sample vial burns a hole through my purse,” You retorted quietly and walked with him. 

The two of you slipped out of the party, unnoticed, just like how you had gotten in. The job was as easy as Hunnigan had said, in and out, and other than the burn on your hand you both came out unscathed. 

“We’re talking and walking,” Leon said as the two of you got out of the elevator, walking down the hallway to your room. His voice told you that he wasn’t asking, more telling you that you two were going to talk. 

“The glass burned my hand, that was it, everything else was fine,” You replied as you made your way to the door to your room. 

“I’m patching that up when we get inside,” Leon said, again leaving no room for debate. 

“Fine,” You mumbled and swiped the keycard, opening the door. 

The two of you walked in, you immediately getting out of your heels and leaving them by the door. You were about to head into the shower, before Leon closed the bathroom door from behind you. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was staring intently at you. 

“Before anything, I’m fixing that hand of yours,” He said, his breath hot on your neck. You turned around, looking him in the face. 

“I want to get out of my makeup and this dress,” You replied, a slight whine in your tone. 

“You’ll get to later,” He said, almost pulling you to the bed. Begrudgingly, you sat down on the edge of the bed and watched him walk to the bathroom. While you were getting ready, earlier today, you didn’t notice how soft the bedsheets were. The silk pooled under your fingers, wanting to lull you to sleep. 

Leon returned from the bathroom, with a bowl filled with water, a first aid kit, and a couple hand towels. Your face scrunched a bit, uncomfortable with the idea of someone doing something that you could do yourself. 

“Leon, I’ll be fine. I can bandage myself up after I get changed,” You said, trying to quell him. However, one of the things that you had learned early on while working with Leon Kennedy was that he never walked away from someone needing help, no matter how small or big the need was. 

The bed dipped as he sat next to you, pulling your hand so that it was face up on his thigh. “And what happens when you don’t fix it and you get scarring or can’t use your hand as well as you used to? This is your shooting hand, don’t be stubborn,” He insisted. 

“‘Don’t be stubborn?’ That’s rich coming from you,” You replied, eyes scrunched together waiting for the pain of him putting your hand in the bowl of cold water. 

Where you expected there to be pain from the water, there was relief. Part of you wished that it was running water, but the other part of you knew it might’ve been rough on the freshly buried skin. 

“Just relax, I’ll take good care of you,” Leon said, his hands going to open the first aid kit. 

“That really makes me feel better,” You said back snarkily. 

“Good to hear that you didn’t lose your sense of humor,” 

“I got a burn on my hand, I didn’t get impaled,” 

Leon chuckled a little bit and took your hand out of the bowl, putting it down on one of the hand towels. “I thought I trained you to say ‘thank you’ when someone helps,” He replied, a glint of teasing in his eyes. 

“You didn’t teach me shit other than how to shotgun a beer,” You replied, a smirk on your face. 

Leon’s small chuckle turned into a hearty laugh. “Fair, fair,” He replied and started to bandage your hand. “Good eye, seeing where the displays were held. The job was easy thanks to you.”

“Is that praise from Leon Kennedy?” You asked, feigning shock. “Oh my god, the world is ending.”

“Hey, I give you enough praise,” He retorted and lighting wrapped the bandages around your hand, lightly tying them. “Okay, your hand is all set and will be as pretty as it usually is soon,” He added with a toothy grin. 

“Thanks,” You said and looked at the bandaging, your voice softening. 

“Before you change, I have something else for you,” Leon said, walking over to the fridge in the room. Your eyes followed him and watched him pull a box out of the fridge and a large bottle of sparkling cider. 

“What’s the occasion?” You asked as he walked back to the bed with two forks and two flutes. 

“It’s January 31st….” Leon trailed off.

“Oh,” You replied softly and looked at the box. Leon opened it up and revealed a tiramisu cake, simple and plain, just like you liked it. 

“I’m sorry you had to be on a mission tonight, but our lives are what they are,” He said and handed you a fork. “I know you like tiramisu cake and you hate most types of alcohol so I got you some goodies,” He added with a soft smile.

“Thank you, I haven’t had anyone to spend tonight with for a long time,” You replied, taking the fork and flute. 

“Before we eat, actually, I think it’s a waste that we didn’t get to dance while in these fancy ass clothes,” Leon stood up, walking to the radio in the room and putting on a classical music station. 

“I don’t know how to dance,” You said. 

“If you can fight, you can dance, it’s pretty much the same thing,” He replied and held his hand out to you. 

“You say that now, but you won't be laughing when I step on your foot,” You warned, taking his hand with your good one and standing up. Leon laughed in reply and pulled you close to him, his hand finding a respectful spot on your waist. 

“How do I put up with you?” He asked dramatically, his eyes sparkling with humor. 

“I should be asking that question,” You replied. “Maybe, we were meant to annoy the shit out of each other.”

The two of you chuckled as you swayed together to the music. Leon’s eyes never left yours and the way he was looking at you felt… intimate. Like you were the only person in the world to him and you were all he wanted. 

“Happy birthday, (Y/n),” He said after a few seconds of silence and smiled. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Present Day

You saw Leon’s mouth moving on the other side of the prison cell bars, but couldn’t hear a word he was saying. His blue eyes were staring at you, squeezing shut in a grimace every few seconds. If you were going to get infected after all the missions the two of you had gone through, you were happy that at least you could lose your minds together. Nothing else mattered to you other than the feeling of closeness you two had in the moment and your fingers laced together through the jail cell bars. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this fic early on my AO3!

[daniel-nerd]

(long rant incoming)

the first even transgender town council member in israel was elected in kiryat tivon yesterday!! and while this is a huge win for diversity, inclusivity and human rights, somehow even cishet white men from gaza and the west bank can’t vote. and palestinians from jerusalem still can’t vote for the government election, only municipal election!! even though the government (and for some the local council) still govern them. but in their(israeli government and other political institutions) eyes palestinians don’t count, because they’re not part of this land that we call israel, and they’re under military law instead of civilian law.

yesterday, the day of the election, i was part of a protest, a protest against the bombing of gaza, a protest for peace, a protest for releasing the hostages diplomatically, a protest for palestinian’s right to be alive.

the protest was small, and only one hour, but in that hour while the organizer read stories of survivors from gaza, depicting immoral psychological warfare and warcrimes committed by IDF soldiers, people passing by mocked us, yelled at us, cursed us, tried to argue that all of that is somehow excused and moral.

after the protest, and after we all separated into smaller groups, and went in different directions, (in order to not get targeted alone). IDF soldiers who were nearby, together with civilians, ripped photos of palestinians dying that we put up at the start of the protest. within half an hour there was nothing left, not even the strings that we hanged the photos from.

the public knows what happening in gaza, they deliberately ignore it and deny it. because accepting it would means accepting the fact that they supported the IDF, they supported the bombing of gaza, they supported and almost all of them even took part in a genocide.(in Israel, we have a mandatory military service law, which is hard to get around, and it is very common for people who do get an exempt due to medical conditions to volunteer in the military instead)

i am not scared of the truth anymore, so im going to say it. just like many others, i used to support the IDF, i used to want to join the IDF, i used to support the genocide, thinking its just to eradicate the terrorist group called hamas, thinking it was to protect us and defend, and thinking the IDF is doing everything possible to minimize collateral damage.

but with the years, every attack, every death, every news article, i came to the conclusion that so many people tried to yell at me.

at first i denied it and found excuses, then i agreed with it but watered it down and said its exaggerated. but eventually i ran out of excuses and left facing the truth. at that point i had an option, continue being complicit with the IDF knowing i support genocide, or accepting the truth and working to stop it.

my choice was obvious to me, i saw only one moral choice. unfortunately, for most israelis, the fog of propaganda is so thick that they don’t even get to have that choice, and those who do, usually choose to be complicit with the genocide out of patriotism, religious fascism or the sheer horror and existential crisis that is accepting the truth.

if there’s anything you take from this ramble of word soup, i want it to be this. think about who’s the person you’re talking to, and what mental gymnastics they were forced to go through. keep that in mind and adjust your conversation to accommodate that. the truth isn’t visible in the fog of propaganda that israeli civilians are bombarded with since birth.

if you call israel apartheid or say its a genocide you probably already lost in this discourse. they will shut their ears and won’t listen to you, thinking anything you say is hamas lies.

instead, try to walk with them, understand their train of thoughts, get to the core reasons they refuse to accept the truth and help them tackling the core of their reasoning.

they might run away from the conversation, refuse to deal with whatever they just unraveled, but in that case, you won, and pushed them one step closer to the truth.

and most importantly, don’t forget to give them resources that can help them with the next steps, we have a bunch of israeli based organizations that do exactly that, breaking the silence, eyes on the occupation, standing together, all that’s left, gush neged kibush, just to name a few. and good luck!