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starzradio · 2 days ago

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DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

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julietsf1 · 24 hours ago

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Factory Reset - Franco Colapinto x Engineer!Reader

summary: After a major crash, Franco Colapinto is sent to the Williams factory to work alongside the engineers repairing his car. Tensions run high as he’s forced to confront the realities of their work and the sharp wit of performance engineer Y/N. What begins as a clash of worlds becomes an eye-opening experience for both. (6k words)

content: overconfident Franco; smart but salty Y/N; 3rd person POV; written by someone who doesn't know much about engineering lol it's the vibes that count innit

an: Sorry for disappearing cuties! I had some unexpected work obligations but will be uploading all my WIPs today! thanks for sticking around <3

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The tension in the Williams Racing debrief room was almost as palpable as the screeching halt Franco Colapinto’s car had come to in Las Vegas. The crash had been spectacularly disastrous, with debris scattered across the strip like confetti. And now, here he was, summoned not to a glamorous event or strategy meeting but to a mandatory visit to the Williams factory in Grove. Franco couldn’t remember the last time he felt this much dread walking into a building.

James Vowles stood at the head of the room, his usual calm demeanor carrying an edge of authority that demanded attention.

“We’re implementing a new initiative,” James began, his sharp eyes darting between Franco and the engineers gathered. “To strengthen team spirit and accountability. After a crash like the one in Vegas and our previous years with many crashes, it’s crucial to recognize that Formula 1 isn’t just about what happens on track. It’s also about the people who make it all possible behind the scenes.”

Franco leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. He wasn’t a fan of the lecture tone, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“This initiative,” James continued, “involves drivers spending time at the factory. Working alongside the team. Seeing firsthand the hours, the sweat, and the dedication it takes to repair the damages—damages that fall under the cost cap.”

There it was. The thinly veiled jab. Franco sat up straighter, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sure we all agree,” James said with a smile that wasn’t entirely warm, “this will benefit everyone. Franco, you’ll spend the next three days with us here in Grove.”

The engineers in the room exchanged glances. Some smirked, others looked indifferent, but one person in particular didn’t even bother to mask her displeasure. Y/N, one of the team’s senior performance engineers, leaned back in her chair, arms folded, with an expression that screamed, “Of course it’s him.”

Franco noticed her immediately. He’d seen her around the garage before but had never exchanged more than a brief nod. Now, as her steely eyes bore into him, he felt the weight of the animosity she clearly didn’t bother to hide.

“Any questions?” James asked, breaking the silence.

Franco raised a hand half-heartedly. “Yeah. What exactly am I supposed to do for three days?”

James smiled, his tone sharper than the words themselves. “Learn.”

…

The hum of machinery filled the Williams factory, a symphony of clanging metal, whirring drills, and distant chatter. Franco stood awkwardly at the edge of the main floor, dressed in a team-issued polo and jeans, feeling painfully out of place. Engineers bustled past him with purpose, pushing carts laden with parts or gesturing at detailed schematics. Everyone seemed to know where they were going—everyone but him.

Y/N emerged from a row of workstations, a tablet tucked under her arm and a look of mild irritation on her face. Her presence was commanding, despite her relatively small stature among the towering racks and machinery. When she spotted Franco, her expression tightened further, as if this entire ordeal was a personal inconvenience.

“Right,” she said, stopping in front of him. “Let’s get this over with.”

Franco raised an eyebrow. “Wow. You really know how to make a guy feel welcome.”

Y/N didn’t bite. Instead, she thrust the tablet toward him. “Here’s your schedule for the day. You’ll shadow me for the morning. Try to keep up.”

“Keep up?” Franco smirked, taking the tablet. “I’m an F1 driver. I think I can manage.”

She didn’t even look back as she turned on her heel. “We’ll see.”

The morning was a whirlwind of tasks that Franco barely understood. Y/N walked him through the telemetry department, where engineers analyzed data from his car. The lead analyst, a middle-aged man named Paul, greeted Y/N warmly but barely spared Franco a glance.

“So this is the data from Vegas,” Y/N said, pulling up a graph on one of the monitors. “See these spikes here? That’s where you oversteered.”

Franco squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the jagged lines. “Okay, but in my defense, the rear was completeshit by that point.”

Y/N shot him a sharp look. “In your defense? Do you know how much work it took to rebuild the floor after that?”

Paul cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. “It’s not all bad,” he interjected. “We did get some valuable data—”

“Valuable data doesn’t fix a wrecked car,” Y/N cut him off, her eyes still on Franco. “Next time, maybe don’t treat the car like it’s disposable.”

Franco clenched his jaw. He was used to criticism from team principals or the media, but this felt different—more personal. “I don’t crash on purpose, you know,” he muttered.

Y/N turned back to the screen. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The tour continued through the machine shop, where technicians were crafting replacement parts, and the aerodynamics lab, where wind tunnel models were being adjusted. Franco noticed that while most people greeted Y/N with respect, their reactions to him ranged from polite nods to outright indifference.

By the time they reached the assembly area, Franco was bristling with frustration. “Is everyone here always this friendly, or is it just me?”

Y/N glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “They’re busy. Unlike you, they don’t have time to play the victim.”

Franco stopped walking, forcing her to turn around. “What’s your problem with me?”

“My problem?” Y/N folded her arms, her voice low but pointed. “You think this team exists to make you look good on Sundays. But for us, this is our life. Every crash, every mistake, it’s hours of extra work. Late nights. Missed weekends. Let alone you blaming it all on the car every time. So yeah, excuse me if I’m not rolling out the red carpet for you.”

Franco opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he fell silent and followed her as she led him to the next department.

The afternoon brought more hands-on tasks. Y/N handed Franco a wrench and pointed to a disassembled gearbox. “Think you can manage this?”

“Depends,” Franco said, inspecting the gearbox. “What’s the record time for putting one of these together?”

“This isn’t a race,” Y/N snapped, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

Franco worked diligently, occasionally asking questions that Y/N grudgingly answered. By the end of the day, the gearbox was reassembled, and Franco felt a small sense of accomplishment—though Y/N didn’t offer any praise.

As they packed up, Franco noticed her pause by one of the workbenches, her expression softening as she examined a photo taped to the wall. It showed a younger Y/N during her internship at McLaren, laughing with Daniel Ricciardo and Lando Norris.

“You worked at McLaren?” Franco asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N nodded without looking at him. “Internship during uni. Best year of my life.”

“Let me guess,” Franco said. “You were one of Danny Ric’s ‘shoey’ victims?”

Y/N laughed, a sound that surprised them both. “Only once. But it was worth it.”

For a moment, the tension between them eased. Then Y/N’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Back to reality. See you tomorrow, Colapinto.”

As she walked away, Franco found himself smiling despite himself.

…

The second day at the Williams factory was already shaping up to be a long one. Franco arrived earlier than expected, determined not to let Y/N accuse him of slacking off. The factory came alive with distant murmur of conversations slowly filling the space. He leaned against the telemetry lab doorframe, holding a cup of coffee that smelled like it had been brewed by an engineer experimenting with car oil, waiting for Y/N to show up.

When she finally appeared, cradling a steaming cup of tea and glancing down at her tablet, Franco couldn’t help himself. “Good morning to you too, sunshine.”

Y/N looked up, unimpressed. “You’re early. Trying to win points or just lost?”

“Maybe I just enjoy our morning chats,” Franco replied, grinning over the rim of his coffee cup. “Your warmth really sets the tone for the day.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a flicker of amusement behind her usual sharpness. “If sarcasm counts as effort, you’re doing great.”

The morning routine started where the conversation with Paul had left off the previous day: telemetry analysis. Franco was seated in the simulator cockpit while Y/N pulled up detailed graphs of his Vegas laps, pointing out each mistake with the precision of a scalpel.

“See this spike here?” she said, her finger hovering over the screen. “That’s where you decided braking wasn’t necessary.”

“I didn’t decide that,” Franco countered, leaning forward to study the data. “The rear was loose, and I had to adjust—”

“You overcompensated,” Y/N interrupted, highlighting another section. “Instead of making a gradual adjustment, you panicked. A car doesn’t respond well to panic.”

Franco frowned, leaning back in the seat. “I didn’t panic.”

Y/N turned to face him, her gaze piercing. “You’re telling me plowing into the barrier was part of the plan?”

For a moment, Franco stared at her, at a complete loss for words. Then he laughed, the tension easing slightly. “You know, you’d make a great drill sergeant.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said dryly, though the faintest hint of a smirk played on her lips.

By lunchtime, Franco had decided to stop avoiding the canteen drama and instead followed Y/N to her usual table. She sat with a group of engineers, all engaged in animated conversation about the latest updates to the floor design. Franco tried to follow along, but the technical jargon quickly became overwhelming.

“You look lost,” Y/N said, leaning toward him. Her voice was low enough that only he could hear. “Too many big words?”

Franco smirked, stealing a chip from her tray. “Just biding my time. Waiting for you to talk about something interesting.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop him from taking another chip. “Bold move.”

“I can be bold,” he said, popping the chip into his mouth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward, betraying her amusement.

…

At four o’clock sharp Y/N stood by the sideline of the nearby paddle court, tapping her racket against her leg and scanning the group of engineers gathering for the weekly game. It was her favorite way to let off steam after a long week - competitive enough to keep her engaged but lighthearted enough to remind her that work wasn’t everything.

“Where’s Ethan?” someone asked, voicing the question on her mind.

Y/N’s usual partner was nowhere to be seen. A quick check of her phone confirmed it: Ethan had bailed last-minute with a text about a migraine and a sincere promise to make it up to her next week.

“Great,” Y/N muttered under her breath. Without a partner, she’d be sitting this one out.

“Problem?” Franco’s voice cut through the crowd, his grin as smug as ever as he leaned against the court’s railing.

Y/N turned to him, crossing her arms. “Ethan flaked. No partner, no game.”

“Shame,” Franco said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “Guess you’ll just have to cheer from the sidelines.”

Y/N glared at him, but before she could retort, he held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Or,” he continued, “I could step in. You know, save the day.”

She snorted, looking him up and down. “You? Save my day?”

“Hey,” Franco said, grabbing a spare paddle from the bench. “I’m more coordinated than I look.”

“That’s a low bar,” Y/N shot back, but her lips twitched as if suppressing a smile.

“You need a partner,” Franco said, spinning the paddle in his hand. “I’m offering. Unless you’re too scared I’ll outplay you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the thought of sitting out was more annoying than the idea of teaming up with him. “Fine,” she said, pointing at him with her paddle. “But if you screw this up, I’m never letting you live it down.”

The first few minutes were rocky. Franco’s confidence far outstripped his paddle skills, and Y/N found herself darting across the court to cover his missed volleys.

“Are you actually trying?” she called after him when he completely whiffed a return.

“Relax,” Franco said, jogging back to his position. “I’m just warming up.”

“You better warm up fast, I have a competition ranking to keep up,” she snapped, returning a wicked shot from their opponents.

But to her surprise, Franco adjusted quickly. His natural athleticism took over, and soon he was diving for impossible shots and landing them with a flourish that almost made Y/N forget his rough start.

“Not bad,” she admitted after he scored their first point with a sharp return.

“Not bad?” Franco said, feigning offense. “That was textbook genius.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Y/N said, though she couldn’t help the grin that tugged at her lips.

As the match progressed, Y/N found herself enjoying their unlikely partnership. Franco’s energy was infectious, and his relentless determination to win made her laugh more than once.

“Nice shot!” he shouted after one of her perfectly placed lobs.

“Thanks,” she replied, her voice tinged with mock sweetness. “Try not to ruin it.”

“I’m carrying this team,” Franco said, panting as he prepared for the next serve.

“Only thing you’re carrying is that big head of yours,” Y/N muttered, but the teasing tone softened her words.

At some point, a stray ball sailed out of the court, bouncing into the parking lot. Franco volunteered to fetch it, jogging off while Y/N leaned against the net to catch her breath.

James Vowles strolled over from the sidelines, hands in his pockets and a wide smile on his face.

“Not bad out there,” James said, nodding toward the court. “You’ve got Franco moving, at least.”

Y/N laughed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “He’s not as useless as I thought. Still reckless, though.”

James chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You know, it’s good to see him having fun. It’s been a rough season—rookie pressure and all that. Moments like this are rare for him.”

Y/N glanced toward Franco, who was bent over retrieving the ball. His usual bravado seemed lighter today, less forced. She’d never thought about how intense the pressure must be for him.

“He hides it well,” Y/N said softly.

James nodded, still smiling. “He does. Sometimes I forget how young he still is.”

When Franco jogged back onto the court, tossing the ball into the air with a cocky grin, Y/N felt a twinge of sympathy she hadn’t expected.

“Ready?” Franco called, positioning himself for the next serve.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Y/N replied, her voice softer than before.

Franco’s serve caught her off guard. It was precise and powerful, skimming the net and clipping the edge of the line.

“Nice serve,” Y/N said, the words escaping before she could think better of them.

Franco froze mid-smile. “Did you just compliment me?”

“Don’t get used to it,” she said quickly, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks.

The rest of the match passed in a blur of fast volleys and laughter. Y/N found herself encouraging Franco more often, and he responded by playing even better, his confidence growing with every point.

By the time they won—21 to 17—they were both breathless and grinning.

“Good game,” Franco said, holding out his hand.

Y/N shook it, her grip firm. “Not terrible.”

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as glowing praise,” Franco said, his grin widening.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, though her tone was more teasing than cutting.

As the match wrapped up and the court cleared, Y/N crouched down to zip her bag, her mind still buzzing with the game’s energy. She couldn’t help but replay the last few points in her head—the unexpected precision of Franco’s serve, the way he’d thrown himself into every volley, and, perhaps most surprising, how well they’d worked together. It wasn’t something she’d anticipated when she grudgingly let him join her earlier.

Franco, standing a few feet away, adjusted the strap of his bag and hesitated. He glanced at Y/N, his usual cocky grin nowhere in sight. Instead, his expression was softer, more sincere, as though he was wrestling with what to say.

“Thanks for letting me play,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. It wasn’t just a throwaway comment—it carried a weight Y/N hadn’t expected.

She paused, straightening up and meeting his gaze. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Franco wasn’t looking at her with his usual smirk or playful glint. There was something vulnerable in his eyes, something she hadn’t seen before. Gratitude, maybe, or relief.

I should be thanking you,” she said simply, her tone gentler than usual.

Franco blinked, as though her words had surprised him, and for the first time since he’d arrived at the factory, he looked almost shy. He nodded, slinging his bag over his shoulder and stepping closer.

“Seriously,” he added, his voice a little firmer now. “I needed that. It’s been… a lot lately. You didn’t have to let me join, but you did. So, thanks.”

Y/N studied him, her sharp instincts catching the subtle way his shoulders relaxed, the way he shifted his weight like he wasn’t used to opening up. This wasn’t the brash rookie who crashed cars and cracked jokes at every opportunity. This was someone who carried more than he let on—someone who, despite his flaws, was trying.

Her reply came almost automatically, her voice softer than she expected. “Well, don’t let it go to your head.”

But there was no edge to her words this time, no undercurrent of sarcasm. It was the kind of teasing that felt less like a wall and more like an olive branch.

For the first time, she didn’t see him as just the reckless rookie who kept wrecking her hard work. He was something more—someone navigating a high-pressure world, someone trying to find his place just like everyone else. And, Y/N realized, he wasn’t half-bad at it when he let himself breathe.

Franco smiled—an easy, genuine smile that lit up his face in a way that was, dare she admit it, a little endearing. “Careful,” he said, his tone regaining its usual playfulness. “Keep this up, and I might start thinking you like me.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” she shot back, though her lips twitched into a faint smile of their own.

As they walked out of the court together, their banter trailing into the evening air, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted. Maybe, just maybe, Franco Colapinto wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

…

The hum of the factory felt louder than usual the next morning, or maybe it was just the lingering buzz from the paddle game. Y/N sat at her workstation, staring at the detailed telemetry graphs on her screen but not entirely focused on them. She couldn’t stop thinking about Franco—not in the way she was used to, with irritation bubbling under the surface, but something else. Something softer.

“Morning,” a familiar voice called, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Franco leaned against the edge of her desk, his trademark grin firmly in place. He was holding a cup of coffee—factory brew, by the looks of it—and looked annoyingly chipper for someone who had spent the previous day sprinting across a court.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow but unable to keep the amusement out of her tone.

“Probably,” Franco replied, setting the coffee down on her desk. “But I figured I’d start with you.”

Y/N eyed the cup suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“Peace offering,” he said, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Figured I owed you for carrying me in paddle yesterday.”

Y/N snorted, picking up the cup. “You’re lucky I like caffeine.” She took a cautious sip, then looked up at him. “Still terrible coffee, though.”

“Hey, I tried,” Franco said, raising his hands in mock surrender.

The morning flew by in a blur of meetings and simulations. Franco had started shadowing her more closely, asking questions that, to her surprise, weren’t entirely stupid.

“So, this graph,” Franco said, leaning over her shoulder as she pulled up data from one of the wind tunnel tests. “What does this spike mean?”

“It means the airflow over the rear wing is separating,” Y/N explained, highlighting the section with my cursor. “See this spike? That’s where the turbulence is disrupting the downforce. Less downforce means less grip, especially through the high-speed corners.”

Franco leaned in, squinting at the data. “So that’s why we were losing time through Sector 2 at Interlagos—the Esses and that long left-hander?”

Y/N glanced at him, impressed despite herself. “Exactly. Nice to see you’ve been paying attention for once.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Franco said, grinning.

Their banter flowed more easily now, the sharp edges of their earlier exchanges softened into something almost friendly. Almost.

During their mid-morning coffee break, Y/N found herself sitting with Franco at one of the smaller tables near the canteen window. She usually avoided these moments, preferring to spend her breaks with other engineers or, more often, alone. But today, she didn’t mind the company.

“So,” Franco said, leaning back in his chair. “How’d you end up here, anyway?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Here, as in Williams? Or here, as in motorsport?”

“Motorsport,” Franco clarified, taking a sip of his coffee. “You don’t exactly seem like the type to spend your weekends watching races.”

Y/N chuckled. “You’d be right about that. My dad was obsessed with cars, though. Used to take me to karting tracks when I was a kid. At first, I hated it—too loud, too smelly. But then I started paying attention to the mechanics, how everything fit together. It just… made sense.”

Franco tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “And that led you here?”

“Eventually,” Y/N said, shrugging. “I studied engineering, did an internship with McLaren during uni. That’s when I realized this wasn’t just some childhood fascination. It was what I wanted to do.”

Franco nodded, his voice quieter now. “Well, you’re really good at it. I hope you know that.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Thanks, Franco,” she said softly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

The afternoon was hectic. With the car rebuild still behind schedule, the factory floor buzzed with a sense of urgency. Y/N was stationed at one of the workbenches, assembling a new rear suspension with a few other engineers, when Franco wandered over.

“Need a hand?” he asked, pulling up a stool beside her.

“Can you tell the difference between a torque wrench and a spanner?” Y/N asked without looking up.

“Not yet,” Franco admitted, resting his chin on his hand. “But I’m a fast learner.”

Y/N sighed but handed him a tool anyway. “Fine. Hold this. And don’t drop it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Franco said, mimicking a salute.

Despite her initial reservations, Y/N found herself enjoying his presence. He asked questions, paid attention to her answers, and even managed to make her laugh a few times. By the end of the day, she was surprised at how much they’d gotten done—and how much lighter the workload had felt with him around.

As the factory began to wind down for the evening, Y/N was packing up her tools when Franco appeared beside her, hands in his pockets and a lopsided smile on his face.

“Busy tomorrow?” he asked.

“Probably,” Y/N replied, zipping up her bag. “Why?”

“Just wondering,” Franco said, his tone casual. “Figured I should plan my day around annoying you as much as possible.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “Good luck with that.”

As they walked out of the factory together, the air between them felt lighter, less charged with the tension that had defined their earlier interactions. For the first time, Y/N found herself looking forward to the next day—not just for the work, but for the company.

…

The pub was crowded, buzzing with the energy of Williams team members finally letting loose after a grueling week. Laughter echoed off the wooden beams, glasses clinked, and the occasional burst of cheering from the engineers at the dartboard carried through the room. Franco sat at a high table with James Vowles and a handful of other engineers, a pint of beer in front of him, untouched.

“So there I was,” one of the engineers was saying, his hands gesturing wildly, “under the car, trying to weld the damn thing back together while the rear wing’s hanging on by duct tape—”

James chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like just another Tuesday.”

Franco forced a smile, but his mind was elsewhere. He could still hear the faint hum of the factory in his head, see the way Y/N’s brow furrowed as she focused on her work. He had no doubt she was still there, surrounded by telemetry data and spreadsheets, hunched over some impossible task to get the car ready for Qatar.

“Franco!” James called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You’re quiet tonight. That’s not like you.”

Franco shrugged, lifting his pint and taking a sip just to appease him. “Just tired.”

James tilted his head, studying him with a faint smile. “You’ve been spending too much time in the factory. It’ll do that to you.”

“It’s not so bad,” Franco said, setting his glass down. “The coffee is shit though.”

James’s smile grew, but he didn’t press further. Another round of laughter from the group filled the silence, but Franco found himself restless. He glanced at the time on his phone and then at the door.

“Back in a bit,” he said abruptly, grabbing his jacket.

“Running off already?” James teased, but Franco didn’t answer. He was already weaving his way through the crowd, his mind made up.

The factory was eerily quiet when Franco returned, the once-bustling floor now deserted save for the faint hum of machinery. The lights were dimmed, casting long shadows across the empty workstations. He made his way to the telemetry department, navigating the maze of desks and monitors like he belonged there - which, after the past few days, he almost did.

He found her exactly where he expected: sitting at her workstation, her face illuminated by the glow of her screen. Her hair was slightly mussed, one hand absently running through it as she scrolled through what looked like another mountain of data. There was an empty coffee cup on her desk, and a faint crease on her forehead betrayed her exhaustion.

Franco paused, watching her for a moment. She looked so focused, so determined, and it struck him how much effort she poured into her work. Not just effort – her whole heart.

He cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle her too much. She glanced up, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw him standing there.

“Franco?” she said, setting her stylus down. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at the pub.”

“I was,” he admitted, holding up two brown takeout bags. “But it was boring without someone yelling at me every five minutes.”

Y/N blinked, clearly caught off guard. “And you brought… food?”

“Figured you’d still be here,” he said, stepping closer and setting the bags down on the edge of her desk. “You’ve probably been here all night, haven’t you?”

“I’ve got work to do,” she replied, as though that explained everything.

“Yeah, and you’ve also got to eat,” Franco said, pulling up a chair and sitting down beside her. “So I’m here to make sure you don’t keel over from starvation. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously thoughtful,” Franco corrected, grinning.

They unpacked the food, and Y/N couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture despite herself. The noodles were still warm, the comforting aroma filling the small space around them. She took a bite, her stomach growling in approval.

“This is surprisingly good,” she admitted, glancing at him.

“You’re welcome,” Franco said, digging into his own container.

For a while, they ate in comfortable silence, the tension between them replaced by an unexpected ease. Franco leaned back in his chair, watching her with a curious expression.

“You really don’t stop, do you?” he asked, nodding toward her screen.

Y/N shrugged, setting her chopsticks down for a moment. “Deadlines don’t stop. Someone has to keep the car running.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “Why do you do it?”

The question caught her off guard. She hesitated, then sighed. “Because it matters. It’s not just about the car—it’s about the people. Everyone here gives their all to make sure we succeed, and I don’t want to let them down.”

Franco nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “You’re really one of a kind, you know.”

Y/N blinked, startled by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks,” she said softly.

“Seriously,” he added, his voice quieter now. “It’s incredible what you do here.”

She smiled, a faint blush creeping into her cheeks. “It’s not glamorous, but it’s worth it.”

As the meal wound down, Y/N turned back to her screen, scrolling through the data she’d been working on before Franco arrived. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, but her mind wasn’t entirely on the numbers. She could feel him beside her, his presence surprisingly steady and not as intrusive as she would’ve thought a few days ago.

Franco, meanwhile, hadn’t moved. Instead, he pulled his chair closer, resting his elbows on the edge of the desk as he watched her work. The soft glow of the monitor lit her face, highlighting the faint creases on her forehead and the small, almost invisible smudge of grease on her temple.

“You really don’t stop,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Not when there’s this much to do,” she replied without looking at him.

“Still,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You’re doing all of this, late into the night, and you’re not even asking for help.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brows furrowing. “Because there’s no point. If I want it done right, I might as well do it myself.”

Franco tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “That’s not true. You just don’t let people try.”

Her hands stilled over the keyboard, his words striking deeper than she expected. She turned to him fully, her lips parting as if to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped her. There was no teasing, no arrogance - just genuine concern.

“You don’t have to carry all of it alone,” he said softly.

Her breath hitched, the words lodging themselves in her chest. For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, her mind racing. He was so close now, close enough that she could see the faint stubble on his jaw, the tiredness in his green eyes, and the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed than usual.

“Do you need help?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

She blinked, his question pulling her back into the moment. “You? Help with this?”

“I’m serious,” Franco said, his grin reappearing, though it was softer now. “I’m good at following orders. Well, sometimes.”

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “I appreciate it but highly doubt you’d be any use here.”

“Try me,” he said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful but laced with something deeper.

Y/N opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, his hand moved toward her. He reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against her temple as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a jolt through her all the same.

Her breath caught, and for a moment, time seemed to slow. His hand lingered near her face, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. The usual sharp retorts and witty comebacks she relied on were suddenly out of reach, replaced by a charged silence that felt heavier with each passing second.

“Franco…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Just tell me what you need,” he murmured, his tone steady but impossibly soft.

Her heart pounded, her chest tight with a mix of emotions she couldn’t quite name. The walls she’d kept firmly in place all week seemed to crack, piece by piece, under the weight of his gaze.

And then, before she could second-guess herself, she leaned in.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, her lips brushing against his in a way that felt more like a question than a statement. But the moment his hand came up to cup her jaw, his fingers warm against her skin, the hesitation melted away. She tilted her head, her hands instinctively gripping the front of his jacket to pull him closer.

Franco responded in kind, his lips moving against hers with a surprising gentleness that caught her off guard. There was no urgency, no rush - just a quiet intensity that left her breathless. The air between them crackled with the kind of tension that had been building for days, unspoken and simmering just beneath the surface.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, her breath coming in uneven bursts. Franco was staring at her, his expression a mix of awe and disbelief, as if he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

“Well,” he said after a moment, his voice huskier than usual. “If I knew takeout was all it took—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her voice firm but laced with amusement.

A grin spread across his face, the kind that made his green eyes crinkle at the corners. “Noted.”

Y/N shook her head, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips. She turned back to her screen, though the work in front of her suddenly felt far less urgent. The weight of the week wasn’t gone, but it had shifted, lightened in a way she hadn’t thought possible just hours ago.

Beside her, Franco leaned back in his chair, his presence steady and unassuming. For the first time, Y/N didn’t mind him being there—not in the slightest.

…

The Williams garage in Qatar buzzed with the familiar energy of a race weekend. Mechanics hurried from here to there, engineers huddled around monitors, and the drivers moved through their routines with laser focus. But amidst the usual chaos, Y/N felt strangely at ease - a rare calm she hadn’t experienced in years of working in motorsport.

She stood near the garage entrance, tablet in hand, scrolling through last-minute setup notes for the car. It was a crisp, clear evening, and the desert air carried a cool breeze that contrasted with the heat of the track.

“Looking for me?”

Y/N didn’t even have to turn around. Franco’s voice, smug but undeniably warm, was unmistakable.

“You wish,” she replied without missing a beat, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Franco stepped into her peripheral vision, his race suit unzipped and hanging around his waist. His green eyes sparkled under the fluorescent paddock lights. “Well, if you weren’t, I’m a little disappointed.”

She finally looked up, tilting her head. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the race? You know, doing the thing we all worked so hard to make possible?”

“I am focused,” he said, leaning casually against the wall. “Just… multitasking. Driver prep and talking with my favorite engineer - it’s all about balance.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade. “If you’re trying to charm me, it’s not working.”

“Who says I’m trying?” Franco countered, his grin widening.

Y/N shook her head, turning back to her tablet. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah,” Franco said, his voice softer now, “but you kind of like that about me.”

Y/N snorted softly, pretending to focus on the setup notes. “Delusional as ever.”

Franco leaned in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Call it what you want, but I think I’m growing on you.”

She tilted her head, arching a brow. “More like you’re wearing me down.”

“Same thing,” he said with a grin, stepping back slightly but not leaving.

“You ready for this?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Franco shrugged, his grin softening into something more earnest. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

She studied him for a beat, noting the slight tension in his posture and the way his fingers tapped lightly against his thigh. Beneath the bravado, there was a trace of nerves—small, but there.

“Hey,” she said, lowering her tablet and meeting his gaze. “You’ll be fine. You’ve got this.”

Franco’s eyes softened, and for a moment, his usual smirk faded. “Coming from you, that actually means a lot.”

“Good,” Y/N said simply, her lips curving into a small smile.

The sound of an engine roaring to life in the garage snapped them both back to reality. Franco straightened, tugging at the collar of his race suit and exhaling deeply.

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said, his voice softer this time, though there was still a faint smile playing on his lips.

Y/N didn’t look up from her tablet, her fingers flying over the screen as she reviewed another set of setup notes. “Good. Try to avoid the barriers, would you?”

Franco chuckled quietly, stepping closer until he was just beside her. “You always know how to motivate me, don’t you?”

She finally glanced up, tilting her head. “Do you really need a speech? The car’s ready, the data’s solid, and you’re…” She paused, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”

“That almost sounded supportive,” Franco said, his grin warming.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Y/N replied, shaking her head lightly before looking back at her screen.

Franco lingered, his hands resting lightly on the edge of her desk. “You know, you could just wish me good luck. It’d be nice to hear.”

Y/N sighed theatrically but set her tablet down, looking up at him again. “Fine. Good luck, Franco. Now go make it count.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, he seemed to hesitate. Then, with a quick glance toward the bustling garage behind them, he leaned down and kissed her—a quick, warm kiss that caught her completely off guard.

From across the garage, a few engineers burst into laughter and cheers. “Woo, Colapinto!” someone shouted, and another voice chimed in, “About time!”

Y/N’s face flushed instantly as she pulled back, her eyes wide. “Franco—”

“Hey, they said it, not me,” Franco said with a small laugh, holding his hands up as if to plead innocence. But his voice had softened even more now, his gaze lingering on her with something closer to gratitude. “You look cute with those red cheeks.”

She blinked, her blush deepening, but she managed to recover quickly enough. “You’re lucky I have work to do, or I’d make you regret that.”

“You’ll miss me out there,” he teased gently, stepping back toward the car. He turned just before climbing in, his grin more genuine now. “I’ll make sure your hard work shines.”

Y/N shook her head, picking up her tablet again to distract herself from the lingering warmth on her cheeks. As the car rolled out of the garage, she caught herself smiling - just for a moment - before diving back into her work.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no mistaking the fondness in her tone.

#f1 x reader #fc43 x reader #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #f1 fanfic #formula one

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bbokicidal · 5 hours ago

Text

"My Pretty Boys" | SKZ [H.J, H.H, L.F]

Notes: A small Drabble inspired by @jeonginsleftcheek and I when we screamed together about Hyunjin's buzzcut lol. (I need to caress his kiwi head) Genre: Smut (18+) Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1K

If it weren't for the game he was playing, Felix's full attention would be on you - naturally, of course, when you lay bare in front of him.

With you sprawled on the couch and your body between Felix's legs, his switch controller lays just above your chest - your collar bone supporting the weight as he carefully pushes down on the buttons in quick succession. Each time you look up at him just to catch a glimpse of his focused, determined expression you're met with the sight of his teeth digging into his lower lip or his tongue prodding the corner of his mouth in an expression of impatience. The strands of his hair that frame his face, now the sweetest color of Onyx, stick to his cheeks and temples from his nap a few hours ago. And with his hair so messy he just looked all too cute.

"Baby," you murmur to catch his attention, earning a soft and low hum so you know he's listening. "After you're done playing, do you want to swap spots with Jinnie..? Think he'd like to play a little, too." The sickly sweet tone of your voice lulls Felix into approving of the question, nodding after a moment of silence.

But Hyunjin gives a soft hum from where he lays between your thighs, head buried down and eyes just barely open. "I'm happy here." And he really is; Tongue lathing over your pussy as it drips for him in a mixture of your slick and his spit from the near hour he'd been there. He's in Heaven, you're on cloud nine - and he's happy to stay there for as long as you want him to.

His movements are slow and calculated, the tip of his tongue circling your clit before dragging back down to lick a fat, flat strip up your wetness. He moves close to dip his tongue into you, tasting you as best he can before he has to pull his tongue back in his mouth and catch his breath - and then he's back at it all over again. His tongue glides over the skin of your inner thighs, teasing and nipping here and there before he returns to your pussy and wraps his lips around your clit - sucking and pulling back just to tease, tongue flicking over the warm bundle of nerves. And the soft touches you give him just spurs him on; Your hand brushing over his cheek before moving up to his hair where usually your fingers would tangle in long, dark strands and tug whenever he got a little too greedy and overstimulated you. But this time you're met with the softness of his hair, now blonde and shorter than you'd ever seen it before. It tickles your palm as you run your hand over the back of his head, thumb swiping through it once more before you let it rest there and gently coax him closer between your thighs.

And then of course, there was one more - his back to the back of the couch as he laid on his side. He was squished up against you but fully content, lulling in and out of consciousness as sleep beckoned him in. One arm draped over your waist, a knee pulled up as well to rest atop your thigh - initially meant to keep your legs open for Hyunjin to rest between but now just relaxing there as he drifted off. Your arm tucked over his shoulder and laid behind him, bent so your fingers could slowly comb through long, soft strands of navy, which only aided in him falling asleep.

Jisung hadn't just been laying there, of course. He'd been squished beside you, comfortable as can be with his head on your shoulder and his mouth attached to your chest. In fact, the outer part of your right breast was completely covered in bruises from where he'd gently bitten down or sucked on the skin, determined to mark you up all on his own. With purple and red covering one side of your chest, Jisung slowly comes and goes in his sleepy haze. His lips are still attached to your skin, breath fanning over your chest each time he exhales. As he slowly comes to every few minutes, he resumes peppering kisses over your skin before he begins to drift off again, repeating his little cycle. But you have to admit that it's awfully cute watching him fall back asleep, your skin leaving his lips with a gentle pop each time.

"Okay - I'm done." Felix announces, letting out a breath as his focus breaks away from the game on his screen. He finally takes in the situation once more and first looks to Hyunjin, who doesn't even seem to hear Felix's declaration - then over to Jisung who was still dozing off with his cheek squished against your arm and lips parted, beginning to drool.

Felix's eyes dart back to Hyunjin. "Hey. She said we should switch places," His brows furrow, lips pressing into a thin pout. "I want a turn."

But the older simply huffs, his lips curling up into a smirk as he presses in closer. Pushing you up and lifting your hips for a moment, Hyunjin's arms wind under your thighs to curl around the plush of your skin, holding onto you tight and locking you in place against him. And it makes you laugh, smiling at his antics before gently running your hand over his hair again - the feeling never growing old. "Okay, okay. Felix can play one more round but after that you have to switch, okay?"

Felix lets out a breath. He begrudgingly reaches for the controller once more, starting up a new round of his game and looking back to the screen to focus all over again. And Hyunjin nods, humming against your clit as he laps at it over and over with no intention of getting up anytime soon. Who wouldn't want to lay there for hours and eat you out all lazy? It was the best feeling in the world - for him, at least.

Yeah... Felix could wait a little longer.

Permanent Taglist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee

@possum-playground @thatonedarkskinnedsiren

@oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie @jeonginsleftcheek

#skz imagine #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #felix x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #Han Jisung smut #Lee Felix smut #Hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids scenario #stray kids imagine #Kpop smut #Kpop x reader #stray kids fanfic

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girlthatgotawaysdiary · 3 days ago

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study tips: how to get a 4.00 GPA pt 2 🦢

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

this is the second part of my first post!!

disclaimer: now these tips won't guarantee you getting immediate straight A's, but applying them to your school life will definitely improve it.

#6 act like the main character in a tv show:

this helped SOOO much! acting like that could result in more confidence and encourage you to join in activities as main characters are usually the leaders in a group project, this could help you build ur leadership skills.

#7 find people or characters you aspire to be like:

a character i aspired to be was Rory Gilmore (as i think she was to everyone), even just watching gilmore girls made me be determined to get good grades. Some characters that are academic weapons are: spencer hastings, elle woods, blair waldorf, and paris geller.

#8 behavior:

your behavior is so important. respecting ur teachers, valuing school rules, and helping ur friends are all synonymous with being a great overachieving student. remember to always be polite and respectful whenever approaching anyone!!

#9 change your mindset:

adopting a more positive mindset is the key to being put together during school exams, it improves ur focus and makes you care more about urself than others, which u will then channel into school work.

#10 make vision/pinterest boards:

having a clear image of exactly what u want is so helpful, making vision boards are my favorite things to do. they make me feel very motivated and dedicated to reaching my goals(in this case an A+ student).

now making vision boards is pretty easy, all you need is either a board or A3 paper, glue, scissors, & some pictures!! i would recommend making a list of the goals you want to achieve and searching them up on pinterest, picking the pictures to ur liking then printing them out, cutting them up, and sticking them to the board!

#11 manifesting:

my fav way of manifesting is listening to subliminals. i luv listening to them while doing hw, studying for a test, or even while sleeping. manifesting helps clear ur intentions and goals, because it involves focusing on them to bring them to life. i recommend the law of assumption and attraction.

#12 find study methods that work for you:

there are various study methods to choose from and are all catered to different learning styles. it took me a bit to find the ones that worked for me...🎀

♡ pomodoro method: first u set a timer (for example) for 30 mins of focused learning, then taking a break for 10 minutes.

♡ blurting method: its basically writing all that u understood from ur subject on a piece of paper, then after that reviewing it and looking at the areas where u might have gotten something incorrect.

♡ practice testing: theres many apps that could help u with this like quizlet, but personally i like to make my own practice exam. i primarily just gather the key points from the topic and make up questions about them.

♡ active recall: this requires using flashcards or just actively testing urself about what u remember from the topic.

♡ the Feynman technique: in this method, u essentially teach the topic to someone else(or ur wall or plushie). this can identify gaps in ur understanding.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

love, heaven

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denise-alwaysuselove · 3 days ago

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Hiii!

If you’re up for it, I have a question — I am quite new to the fandom, so where do you think Sam and Caitríona are with each other right now? Do you think they’re together and just waiting for the right moment to announce it, or what do you think is going on? And apart from the obvious, do you have any material that points toward a relationship between them?

P.S. Happy holidays if you celebrate!!! ❤️

Hello Nonnie!

I think that Sam and Caitriona have been together since early in their Outlander adventure, and married since 2015. Will they announce it after Outlander has ended? I don't know. That said, Caitriona has recently acted as though she's ready for the Narrative to end. She's had her hands all over Sam during promo. Sam, on the other hand, has acted much more reserved, perhaps since he still has ties to Starz through TCND. I've read he even has a handler watching him at events. That alone would make me nervous.

I would love for the Narrative to end sooner than later, but that's not up to me. I dislike how it's negatively affected Outlander (think Season 4 and Sam and Cait's obvious discomfort touching each other) and outwardly tarnished what used to be such a beautiful love.

As far as material with clues as to their relationship, I'll immediately post one of my most popular posts from the past for you to peruse. It's titled "This is my SamCait love story, and I'm sticking to it!" (I don't know how to attach it to this post.)

Thanks for the question, Anon. Buckle your seatbelt, as the SS SamCait has been known to hit rocky waters! For me, I have faith in what I've always seen and simply ignore the nonsense.

Happy holidays to you and yours.

#sam heughan #caitriona balfe #outlander #Asked and answered 12.23.24

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respectthepetty · 2 days ago

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Dear Petty! If you’ve been keeping up with the tea: what is your latest assessment of the Joong/Est drama? Twitter is saying that Joong is hyping the beef because both he and Est have shows airing at the same time. It seems that Est stans (… 🤨) are also claiming talent superiority. And Joong has this pinned to his Twitter timeline:

Do you have the latest dish download?

Turtles!!!! Fun fact! TMZ is known for delivering celebrity gossip; however, on the bias scale, they fall nicely in the middle because the company doesn't have a clear bias, and the news source is actually pretty reliable. The reason the source doesn't score higher in reliability is because the writers try to analyze what they see instead of solely reporting what has been seen. I offer this tidbit because in the weeks since those "JoongDunk Divorce Era" posts on Twitter and Reddit, these basic facts have emerged:

Joong DID block Est. They both unfollowed each other on Instagram and Twitter, but Joong blocked Est. I will not TMZ this up and try to analyze why he did that, but the fact is he did and the youths have verified it.

The "divorce era" JoongDunk posts came in November, but people noticed the Est and Joong drama way back in SEPTEMBER because even at the beginning of October, everyone and their mama went to the ATEEZ concert and Joong and Est did not interact even though they were both there in the same vicinity with various GMMTV people like Mint, Neo, and Arm.

Daou went on the defense about the "Est is wrecking the DaouOffroad home" and posted several times about him and Offroad being fine when people tried telling him he needed to spend more time with Offroad.

A person actually questioned Dunk (if my memory is correct) about the incident where he hung out with Pond and Est while Joong was out of town during a fan meet. I know the post exists of the actual piece of paper with the question, but I cannot find it now! (Chismosa 101, Lesson #1 - Always get the screenshots!)

Joong went on his little trip with First and Khaotung sans Dunk

Joong and Dunk have stated they had a disagreement not just once

BUT TWICE!

And Joong said only they could fix it.

JASP.ER was announced where Joong will be working with Dunk's bestie, Pond, who also was at the infamous dinner with Dunk and Est and who the people ship with Dunk

Then Est went on record and stated he has a very small circle of friends and he is currently single because it's really hard for him to talk to people

Finally, Joong made a cameo on Est's currently airing show, ThamePo, which as far as I'm aware, Joong strangely did not promote. However, I don't have a Twitter account, so I could have missed it.

So now I will put on my TMZ cap:

As much as I want the fictional and real gays to lie, I think that this is the tea — Joong and Est got beef hence why Est was blocked and they aren't interacting. Sides were picked, problems arose from the way people operated (*cough* Dunk *cough*), and instead of GMMTV learning anything from the Tay and Gun kiss, the ongoing Joss bullshit, or ANY incident prior to this, GMMTV somehow didn't go full Adele's management team and pull these boys' social media or give them social media training, so here I am as a Jaidee fan first, and a human second enjoying the hell out of The Heart Killers and praying for Dare You to Death to get filmed just in case the separation sticks and my troublesome tykes divorce before the first gay marriage actually even happens in Thailand.

So yeah . . .

That's that on that!

#I am a jadie fan first #and a human second #so I stay lurking in spaces for no good reason #just reading the chisme while in a Buc-ee's #This is the chisme I love watching from a distance #these poor boys don't even know what hit them #they don't deserve this smoke #and here I am being messy about it #joong gets me in the divorce though #I need the Est people to speak into the mic

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starrysturnz · 1 day ago

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where the love light gleams

pairing. vampire!matt sturniolo x human!reader

summary. matt hasn’t celebrated a holiday in decades. a lonely, unfulfilling existence is nothing to be cheerful about, in his book. but there’s something different about this particular christmas— he’s not quite so lonely anymore.

warnings. mention of the death of a parent, an unserious joke about domestic violence, somewhat sensual toward the end?? angst if you smear this fic on a glass slide and look at it through a microscope.

word count. 1k

author’s note. OKAY SO i apologize for the fact that the only fic from this countdown that was posted on time was the first one… 20% success rate :D basically i’ve learned to pre-write anything i plan to release on a specific date lol. anyways i was traveling and then i got sick sooo not ideal conditions to focus on writing. thanks for sticking with me on this tho! i hope u like this one as much as i do!! kisses :3

masterlist | taglist | starrysturnz’s christmas countdown

it was the perfect evening. firewood crackling in its hearth, the smell of half-baked cookies wafting in from the kitchen, and polar express playing on the tv as y/n lay cuddled up under her favorite fuzzy blanket with her boyfriend, matt.

his fingers toyed lazily with her (admittedly, ugly) sweater as she laid her temple against his shoulder. tilting her head up to admire his face— his strong jaw, his striking eyes— she said, “i can’t believe you’ve never seen this movie before. it’s a classic.”

his head turned slowly to face her, eyes lagging behind on the screen for a second before speaking, “just never really been into christmas movies, i guess.”

there was a hint of something hidden in his voice… amusement, maybe? like he knew something she didn’t. y/n got that vibe from him occasionally— like she was on the receiving end of an inside joke that she wasn’t a part of— but she mostly chose to ignore it. today, however, the urge to pry won her over.

“how come? your family didn’t celebrate holidays growing up or something?”

it was an innocent question, matt knew. he’d expected she might be intrigued by his utter lack of knowledge regarding common christmas traditions. this was their first big holiday together, and she was entitled to some curiosity. but he couldn’t tell her the truth… yet. it wasn’t exactly the time.

besides, the honest answer was a real mood killer— how could he tell her he’d spent the better part of the last century avoiding holiday festivities at all costs? that he didn’t see any reason to celebrate his miserable, cursed existence? way too much explaining, so not enough time. plus, it made him seem all dark and self-loathing, and while yeah, that might’ve been the case, he felt it was far too accurate to edward from the twilight franchise… and being compared to that idiot in any capacity made him want to stake himself.

so instead, he offered her his prepared answer: “no, no, it’s not that. just, i dunno… my mom passed around the holidays when i was young, and it sort of overshadowed the magic of it all, y’know?”

it was the perfect fib— just dark enough to be believable without leaving room for any follow-up questions. and it’s not like it was a total lie; matt’s mother really had died around christmas when he was a boy, and it did put a damper on his holiday spirit.

y/n’s expression softened into one of genuine empathy, and she mustered her best comforting smile. “’m sorry. that must’ve been really difficult.”

“’s okay, that was a long time ago. besides, now i get to experience all your creepy CGI movies for the first time right next to you, so it all worked ou— hey!”

matt rubbed the assaulted spot on his arm as if her little swat had actually hurt at all. (truthfully, he suspected that not even a human would’ve been bothered by her attack.)

“i’ll have you know this movie is a staple from my childhood,” she stated matter-of-factly. “so be nice, or else next halloween i’m making you watch monster house.”

⁺⁎˚

“the cookies should be ready by now, don’t y’think, love?” matt asked, nudging his girlfriend ever so gently in the ribs, making her giggle. “i might not be a christmas expert, but santa can’t visit if the place has burned down, can he?”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll go get them, you stay here,” she ordered.

moments later, y/n was padding back into the living room on her bare tiptoes— the only part her leg warmers didn’t cover— with a decorative reindeer plate full of warm strawberry jam cookies, lightly dusted with powdered sugar. she situated herself back under the blanket, setting the plate on her lap.

matt, eager to try one of the delicacies, reached for the one on the top, only to have his hand smacked away by an irritated y/n.

“ah! do i need to call the cops on you for domestic violence? because you just love hitting me today, hm?”

“only when you do stupid stuff. hands to yourself, silly.”

“but then how am i supposed to…”

his words trailed off as she lifted a cookie between two fingers, raising a brow at him expectantly.

“oh,” he grinned cutely, opening his mouth. his eyes fell shut of their own accord as the treat pushed past his lips, and he found himself savoring the taste. matt never really believed in love as an ingredient in baked goods, but he had to admit, he could taste it in y/n’s food every time.

“so?”

“they’re incredible, darling. really delicious, seriously.” his smile widened at her pleased expression, clearly happy with herself for having impressed him. not that she had to try very hard. “if i grab one of these, are you gonna hit me again?”

“mm. i guess not.”

matt’s hands reached into her lap, snagging the plate from her entirely, setting it atop his own legs.

“hey, wha—”

“sh,” he quieted her protests with a whisper, grabbing a cookie and admiring the adorable heart-shaped design for a second before his eyes flitted up to her face. the corners of his lips quirked up just barely, and then his free hand was softly gripping her jaw. “open up.”

y/n obeyed almost immediately, save for the half-second she spent processing what had just happened. then, she was chewing on the warm pastry, practically melting in matt’s grasp as his thumb swiped at the edge of her mouth to clean the powdered sugar there.

“good?” he asked after a beat. she swallowed.

“mhm.”

“told you,” he teased, now setting the plate on the coffee table and pulling the girl into his lap instead. he heard her heartbeat pick up in her chest, and he placed a soft kiss against her cheek just to hear it skip once. the movie on the tv had been long forgotten.

y/n’s arms wrapped around his shoulders securely, a happy sigh escaping her lips.

“merry christmas, matt.”

for the first time in many years, matt found himself smiling at those words. he held her tightly against his chest.

“merry christmas, darling.”

taglist: @toslayy @stylessuperwhore @sofieeeeex

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grimsonandclover · 20 hours ago

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The diner booth is comfortable enough, the red vinyl cracking and exposing veins of yellow foam that have probably soaked years of spilled drinks and dripped sauce into them. You think about it every time you sit on them.

"What," Patrick clears his throat, adjusting himself in the seat opposite you as his eyes glance at fingers that play with a simple gold pendant around your neck, "Do you want to order anything?"

The menu is the same it always has been. Shrimp cocktail nobody ever has or ever should order, cheeseburgers that could send you into a coma, mozerella sticks and onion rings that taste like hollow dough. The food is lackluster but that's never why you came here, not for those. No, Patrick and you would always order-

"Just fries."

He swallows thickly. Patrick always asks, or always did, more out of habit than necessity. It was always a basket of fries split between the two of you here. The only thing that has felt normal to him in a lifetime. Those are the first words you've spoken to him since you'd told him to leave.

How many words ago was that? How many basket of fries lost since? Immesurable.

They're eaten in silence, which had never happened before. Years before, the meal would be filled with chatter and laughter, drama and gossip, bickering and jabs. No smart remarks were launched from one end of the veneered table to the other, no side-long glances or words of praise or scorn. Just the shuffling behind the diner counter as Marta wipes the laminate down and Billy finishes the night's dwindling orders in the kitchen behind. Forks scrape against ceramic, cups clank, someone coughs. Neither of you speak.

Patrick clears his throat for a second time. Looking over through the window beside you, one that faces the snowy parking lot, he asks you a silent question.

"Let's go to mine." You answer, knowing you're sparing him the shame of explaining his situtation if you offered his.

He's sat on your couch while you're on the floor, your head leaning back against the cushion while he crosses his arms across and Patrick props his feet up on your coffee table.

"Fuck, just... I don't know, say something."

You can tell the quiet is stressing him out, it always has. Quiet was either filled with judgement and strain, or it was filled with his ramblings. It never just existed. "Don't know what to say." It's the truth, you don't.

"Well, then... how are you doing?"

You shrug. He's still your Facebook friend, and you know he checks it. According to that, you're thriving.

"Jesus, man..."

Thirteen years has put distance between you, so much so that the invisible string tying you two together must look worn and frayed. It's been hard for you lately, a fact not broadcasted on your Facebook (where the only thing posted there now are updates you'd care for extended family to see). Patrick can see it, though. He saw it the moment he saw you on the court.

Your knuckles are red and scraped like your knees, creases now appear at the corner of your eyes and mouth when you talk and smile or frown, new and old scars litter your shoulder and chest. When you were eleven, the two of you were running in his backyard and you cut yourself on the shin with a jutting out bit of rock on a nearby fountain you'd circled, threatening Patrick that you'd jump in and through it to catch him. He can still see that scar now, skin bare as you sit in your same tennis shorts and tank.

Patrick could smell your sweat and perfume, and feel your hair tickle his thigh, and breathe your air, and see you, but he couldn't hear you. A pack of Camel Blues is pulled from his pocket. Same ones he's always smoked.

You'd scold him for smoking in your apartment, but that's too many words you'd care to spare him. At least the balcony doors are open.

He pulls two out, placing them both between his lips and grabbing the lighter you're suddenly handing him, your empty fingers now given one of the two lit cigarettes. A habit picked up as kids.

The cigarettes dwindle in your novelty ashtray, and now Patrick stands at your front door, pulling a threadbare coat over tired, cold muscle. Your fault for not turning on the heat. You think the years did him good. A part of you hopes they have, one that's lied dormant since it all ended. That part of you is old and sleepy, quiet as it's awoken, but you can still hear it. You really hope he's alright. The stubble looks alright.

He's looking down at his shoes, then yours, then to the golden pendant that he gave you exactly thirteen years ago, then to you.

"You've spoken exactly eleven words to me." Patrick can't look you in the eye, a weak smile on the corner of his mouth as his gaze darts down again. "Almost one for every year."

You hesitate for a moment before you reach up and behind your neck. You almost don't.

Grabbing his hand and pulling his fingers apart, the only contact you've made with him, you can feel the same callouses on warm, distantly familiar skin. His nails are in the same sorry state they've always been, bitten down and beaten for a good thirty-one years. He's confused by what you're doing, and then you're making his heart stop, head spin. When he looks into his palm, he sees the gift.

"Goodbye, Patrick."

#challengers #challengers 2024 #patrick zweig #x reader #challengers fic #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig fic

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hawkins-batman · 2 days ago

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what is the point of defending noah to the extend that you do? do you actually believe you can/have changed even one person's negative opinion of him? like what is the endgoal here

I don’t think I’ve changed people’s minds — I know it. How do I know it? Because I’ve had many people up in my DMs who have told me so. Directly. Dozens.

Many of those people are now my moots. Some of them even contributed to the fan mail book we mailed Noah back in October.

Why do I do it, though? Because queer people and Jewish people being the targets of violent smear campaigns that threaten to kill them and their families, sexually assault them, doxx them, and weaponize slurs and discriminatory tropes against them are wrong.

Because I never had other queer people stick up for me when I faced homophobia when I was younger and as someone who is just a smidge older than Noah, I believe I have an obligation to stick up for a younger queer person — since it’s clear YOU lot can’t be trusted to call down this behavior.

I also do it because I believe in my values. When I say I support queer and Jewish people (and other minorities), I put my actions where my mouth is. Words without action are meaningless. Which is why online activists so often get labeled as performative. You claim you care about queer people. You claim you care about other minorities.

But what did you do when a mob was unleashed on one? You joined in, at worst, or else just fed him to them. And for what? Some stickers that weren’t even his? For defending a victim of rape, kidnapping, and murder?

So, now, I turn the question back on you. What do you gain from attacking him? From lying about him? From being silent while others are homophobic, antisemitic, and threatening to harm him and his loved ones? Does doing this help Palestinians in Gaza? How?

Does solidarity with minorities mean nothing to you? Or are we props for you to use to show others how “good” you are when it’s convenient?

I’ll be eagerly awaiting your answers. But I won’t hold my breath.

#noah schnapp #ns #noah antis #antisemitism #homophobia #stranger things #the moral grand standing while announcing to the world you hate someone is willld

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ironunderstands · 2 days ago

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I don’t think we talk enough about how tragic of a character March 7th is

I think her rather cheerful demeanor has unconsciously shifted people away from realizing just how well, sad her situation is. She was found in a chunk of mysterious ice floating way out in the vacuum of space with no explanation for how or why she was out there. March had no possessions, no memories, not even a damn NAME to know herself by, to the point where she decided to refer to herself using the date she was found: March 7th.

And yeah, she’s begun to forge an identity for herself following her rescue, but just imagine not knowing who you are, you who were, and having the literal universe itself (or more accurately, the memokeepers) going “No no, you can’t know about your past, it’s that bad!” which only leaves you with more questions than answers.

How can she not lie awake at night thinking of who she might have been? Was her past tragic? Evil? Delightful? Meaningless? Who did she leave behind? What did she leave behind? How bad was it to the point where March shouldn’t know about it for her own good? These are all horrifying questions she must be asking herself, and yet March has quite literally been denied all of their answers. At least the Trailblazer and Dan Heng have the comfort of knowing who they were in their pasts, even if those people were not the best, because then at least they can process it.

However, March has nothing TO process, just a whole lot of questions and not a single answer, and it must be terrifying not knowing who you are, and I don’t just mean on a spiritual level. What if March gets sick from some mundane thing which the crew never could have predicted because her biology simply doesn’t match any recorded species? What if she unlocks a new power and/or accidentally becomes a danger to herself and others, with simply no way to predict that? March has so many weaknesses and strengths she doesn’t know about simply because she doesn’t know anything at all about herself.

Like yeah the six-phased ice is fun and pretty looking, but if you think about it for more than a second, it gets kinda creepy. A substance unmatched in the universe that March can just produce at will? What is it? Where does it come from? How does it work? How can SHE control it? Why can she control it? How come it doesn’t exist elsewhere? Why was she encased in it? Did March freeze herself, because to me that’s what it looks like, or maybe her long exposure to the ice gave her some sort of control over it? Who knows? I don’t, and March certainly doesn’t.

As for the day she does find out, will she be disappointed? Will we as an audience be disappointed? Are the 26 something backstories she came up with for herself better or more interesting than the actual truth? Is it better for HSR to never tell us, to have this gaping mystery stuck in the game that they refuse to solve, knowing that whatever they fill that void with will never be enough to satiate its viewers? Keeping HSR’s theme of accepting one’s past and moving forward despite everything, would it be better to simply not explain who March was?

We learned who Dan Heng was, the TB will learn who they were, so what about March? What if they truly never answer that question? I doubt it will happen, but I think it would be so much more interesting if her past was really kept a mystery. That no matter who March was in her past life, she can be happy in this one and become the person she wants to in spite of that. She made her own name, made her own family, made her own identity and skills and friends and personality, and no matter how different she was before being frozen in the ice, March has who she is now and that’s what she’ll stick with, because it belongs to her more than that nebulous past ever did.

All that to say, hoyoverse, please do not drop the ball on March 7th, although I have long since lost faith in you not to do so

#hsr #March 7th #march 7th hsr #march 7th honkai star rail #shes one of the characters I adore but like #I am working on a fic centered around her though so I’ll update you on that #I read a few too many Spidey in Gotham fics and went “great”#“what if this was March instead”#Also if you follow me yk how much I adore crossovers #Twas only a matter of time #They are like crack to me #If you ever want to capture me just wave a “X character from media I like sent to universe of other media I like” fic in front of me #I’ll be a goner as soon as you read out that sentence 😭

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spongeknife · 2 days ago

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Timebomb: A look at supportive relationships with amnesia (a focus on DID)

I have been rewatching S2 Arcane, and of course Echo's scenes in E7 have left me with a special type of joy. So, coming from someone with DID, I'm looking at how DID effects relationships and what a supportive partner may look like. I would like to note, I do not think Echo has DID, nor do I wish to make that connection: But, Powder's perspective of Echo's changing behavior has a lot of similarities to my own real life experiences and I wanted to highlight that. Also the advice I give may not work for everyone. This is more a guide for partners who have no clue where to even begin, with examples, not a step-by-step instruction manual. I will do my best to go in order.

Alright, so I'd like to start at the beginning, where Echo is writing in his journal and seems to "become aware" of where he is. In Arcane, I understood this as our Echo taking over Powder's Echo. But, in a system sense, this can also be seen as "switching" (one part becoming aware of the body/taking control).

Now, I think in a lot of cases, these "switches" can lead to confusion and stress, as a part tries to piece together what is happening and who they are. It terms of relationships, Powder is unaware of this "switch" when she begins to talk with him. Much like a system, many switches can be very internal - leading a partner to not be aware of what is happening inside a person's head.

Powder, pretty obviously goes about conversation as she normally would, walking up to Echo with a smile and even making a joking quip. Echo, internally, is connecting Powder with Jinx, and I think the visual in the mirror depicts that really well. Much like a part who has switched in, Echo is relying on his old memories and is unaware of who this present "Powder" person is. I have experienced this as well, being unaware that a problem from the system's past is no longer a threat. Powder proceeds to process that Echo is clearly not okay (by the way he jumps back in defense) and tells him to relax. Even when Echo throws an object at her and grabs a screwdriver in defense, she does not attack back, instead just questioning why. Now, I do not think in a real world scenario any OBJECTS SHOULD BE THROWN, and I do believe Powder is a lot more patient than most people. (I know if my partner threw something at me, I would not just be confused and then move on).

But, in a less extreme example, Powder is staying true to who she is, and what her reactions are. I find in systems, when disorientation and stress happens, one of the best things a partner can do is be routine and patient. Or, even helping a part ground themselves (which we see later on). Powder is clearly upset and confused (I would even say hurt), but she doesn't become reactive. In the real world, I would not recommend just ignoring if a part has done something hurtful, but instead, disengaging or supporting until there is a better time to address it. In this case, when Echo does not respond to her asking what gives, she drops it (and I would recommend coming back to it when the person has a clearer head). What is not seen here that I would also recommend is coming up with clear boundaries and sticking to them BEFORE incidents happen. Having a sit down with your partner's system and letting them know what you are okay and not okay with, is a great way to show the system that there is stability.

System note: Now, I would also like to note there is a couple times, I as a system, liked to believe Echo has this reoccurring problem (or a similar one) because that's comforting. And, as a side note, one of those times is Benzo seeing Echo and saying, "one of those days, huh?" Benzo and Echo's relationship (familiarly) is also a great example of being a healthy support system, but that's a story for another time...

Now, continuing on, Powder is flexible. She does a good job (it seems at the moment, at least) with accepting this "different" Echo, and choosing to support him through verbal and physical affection. While in Arcane, Echo isn't very appreciative of her gestures, in the real world, being flexible is a good way to remove pressure from an already stressful situation (Imagine how this would've gone if she had snapped at him in that moment for being so distant), even if he doesn't believe it, Powder is showing she is still on his side through this (and, I believe this helps him open up later on).

Walking through the bar to sit with the group, Powder seems to be holding his hand as well. Again, using physical touch as a grounding tool to help guide Echo. She continues talking with him as she normally would, and when he seems dissociated from the conversation (going from partially aware to completely unaware), that's when she snaps to ground him again, out of concern.

She asks what's wrong, and notes that he's been out of it. In real life, many systems experience time loss - and, when switching or dissociating, may not even realize they are. Reaching out and describing how a part is behaving may help them realize something is off as well. Powder has been supportive, compassionate, and above all else, VERY patient. Echo opens up about how he feels ("waking up in the wrong universe"). All the small steps she's taken has helped him feel he can open up. (Again, imagine if she snapped or threw something back at him, in his eyes, equally viable options from her). Now, not all parts switching in may feel ready to open up, some parts may need a LOT more small steps, some may only need one. Her ability to come back and keep trying is a beautiful illustration of how much support people with systems or DPDR may need. AND, when he opens up, she reminds him of what he's been through (staying up all night). In real life, a part may be unaware of what the body's been through, and empathetically letting them know may help them adjust to the present. Along with this, Powder talking about sleep is, again, showing a partner is likely to be unaware of what is happening internally if the system does not communicate it. Given that, Powder still tries to reassure about what some current stressors may be (there being "plenty of time before the competition") and reminds him AGAIN, that they are a team ("we'll work out the kinks"). She goes to touch him and he flinches away, in reality, parts may be doing this because they are still not fully grounded. Again, if they have been living in the past (especially a trauma covered one), they're natural state is being on the defense. When a part dissociates they may be reliving their experiences silently, or even becoming unaware of their body - reverting to that naturally defensive state. Powder looks hurt at his rejection, which is completely valid. She still picks up the cup that gets knocked over, is still aware that now is likely not the time to talk about it, and doesn't degrade Echo in front of their friends.

Milo runs off, and Powder has a good reason to follow behind. I think it's a good reminder that, yes, it can be very tiring, and as a partner, it is not wrong to take breaks from situations. Sometimes, things are stressful, and taking a moment to do something else is NOT wrong. I know a lot of partners really want to stick through it with their partner's system, but please remember your own health is just as important. Go on that walk, hangout with friends, drink some water, write about it, whatever you need to do to regulate. Additionally, in this case, Powder is the direct stressor (it seems), and she's giving a break to Echo to process what is around him. Sometimes that's needed too, hopefully the system you're with tries their best to communicate when they need to take a step back (and they may need some help at times). Sometimes what a partner does CAN be an indirect trigger, but that does not mean that partner is to blame. System note: I'm going to skip over most of the parts where Powder and Echo aren't interacting. But, I would like to note as a system, I can relate to Echo not being present, instead being focused on something else. (When he redraws the anomaly over and over and OVER again), just a little tidbit that I can relate to. Along with Echo not wanting to be in the "present" moment. Powder, despite all the stressors, invites Echo into her routine (seeing Vi).

And, she does not show how confused or upset she may be feeling. Continuing to show him respect. Once they are in a private, safe (I assume it's safe to the original Echo and her) space, she tries to ask about why he's acting so distant. This is a good example of coming back to what happened later. She saw him talking with Heimerdinger and likely believes he is feeling better enough to talk with her. Now, in real life, a part may not be ready. That does not mean the partner should never check in about how they are feeling. Dating a system has a lot of trial and error, sometimes it's the right time, sometimes it's not. Now, if a system DOESN'T hold space for how you may be feeling (aka, EVERYTIME you try to check in it backfires), I would recommend a genuine conversation about it. Again, just because your loved one is struggling does not mean you as a partner deserve to feel like crap for trying to be supportive.

In this case, Echo wants to know about his present situation. Powder does a great job of summarizing for him and tries to help fill in the gaps she thinks he could be missing. In real life, again, a part may need help connecting to present day, letting them know what may be obvious can help them feel more grounded AND stable. Additionally, when Echo has doubts about Powder's character, she shows there's no reason to distrust her. She doesn't get offended by his questioning, instead just letting him know who she is, through the perspective of Echo. In real life, highlighting what a part has done with you can help them see that their system trusts. "You weren't gonna figure it out yourself", "You're the big idea guy." are both lighthearted ways to remind Echo who he is, and that he has trusted her in the past.

I'd also like to note, she continues with what she went there to do. She takes a lighter and heads over to Vi. She's not being dismissive, but she's also not cornering him, either. This emphasizes her reliability and trust, and shows Echo that she's not focusing in on him like a hawk. In real life, some parts who switch in may feel like they're just waiting to be punished, like they're just waiting to make a wrong move. By continuing routines, a part may feel the lack of attention means they don't have to be on defense. System note: "having an identity crisis again" is just adding to my previous notes LOL.

At Vi's altar, we see a great example of what to do in situations where a partner is getting hurt by a switch in (which can happen). Ekko is processing the fact Vi is dead AND Powder has been handling a lot of stressors that can come from switches (rejection, being treated like a bad guy, ect.). In this scene, Powder is clearly hurt, and, I believe she has every right to be hurt. Yeah, not every switch will be 100% great. That being said, I loved the way she handled it. She places a couple firm boundaries, like letting Ekko know what she doesn't want to talk about ("That's not funny Ekko" and "Just 'cause you're having a bad day, don't take it out on me."). She's letting him know how she's feeling, and without being mean, is letting him know she is reaching her limit.

She's upset, and to me, she has every right to be. Some systems/some parts I've met have a hard time recognizing that just because they are in pain means what they're doing can still have consequences. That is a seperate topic I could talk about for days, but in this case, I'm treating Ekko as a part who pushes boundaries. Ekko continues to ask questions about what happens. Yes, some parts may do this. The reasons are endless (maybe they feel this reality isn't real so who cares, it could be any reason), but at the end of the day, if you're interacting with a part that is pushing boundaries and you don't want to handle it, don't. I'm not saying walk away forever, but Powder does a great job if placing a final boundary, "You should leave." Again, she's being firm, she's letting Ekko know she doesn't appreciate what he's doing, but she's not going out of her way to attack him. When you're supporting a system with parts who push boundaries, it can be hard to not react back. But, imagine it much like arguing with a person without a system. I know very few arguments where attacking back has worked in favor of both parties, and that compounds when you're interacting with a system.

Now, in this case, Ekko leaves. But, what do you do when a part isn't respecting boundaries, if, hypothetically, Ekko didn't leave the room? I know this may not work for everyone, but I would stick to my own boundary. If I ask someone to leave the room, and they don't - choosing to continue a conversation in this case, I leave the room. Remember, again, your own stress and health is equally important, and it'll be hard to help anyone (including yourself) if you can't remove yourself from the high stress situation when you need to. If placing boundaries is hard, I would recommend practicing. I've at times, told my partners I would like to practice ending conversations and what not in low stress situations (letting them know so they don't feel rejected), so I can get used to being able to.

Following this, Powder is very clearly avoiding Ekko. When Ekko looks up she turns away. I think this is a good reminder that things parts do CAN have an effect on their surrounding support systems. I think it's good they show Powder is clearly upset by what Ekko has done. In real life, this can happen. Being a partner should not mean having to be 100% whatever emotion their partner's system needs. That's not very healthy or feasible. Again, it's okay to feel upset and hurt, especially if a part is doing something upsetting or hurtful. Powder doesn't go out of her away to attack Ekko or retaliate, and that's another good thing to keep in mind, even when it's hard.

The next scene we see with Powder and Ekko communicating is Ekko showing Powder the shrine he created of Vi. In a real life sense, a part may be trying to apologize OR may also be trying to show their partner that they are doing their best to be connecting to the present. Parts that are traumatized may have a hard time communicating complex emotions in a way that's understandable, so they may communicate through creative methods. Now, Powder does a good job of recognizing he's trying to apologize and open communication, so she does as well. And in that opening of communication, she learns more about Ekko and vice versa. In real life, this could mean a part opening up more, or just a part being more willing to be cooperative. Ekko, in this case, also stops recognizing Powder as a threat, and in real life, a part may begin to do the same thing. When Ekko talks about his version of Powder compared to the real version, it is very akin to a part trying to synthesize present day situations and past traumas/situations.

In turn, Powder opens up about her own feelings. In real life, opening up to a part may give new perspective on a situation, and can lead to a mutually supportive environment after a switch. In this case, Ekko is willing to hear Powder out and help her (giving advice), and Powder begins helping him with his own project. This goes back to those baby steps I mentioned at the beginning. If Powder hadn't continuously taken small steps to show she wants to be on a team with him, their conversation may not have gone like this. Additionally, now that a "team" foundation has been built, Powder and Ekko can build each other up. In this case, Powder bumps him with her shoulder, a form of physical affection he appreciates now that he's more grounded, compared to earlier that day where most physical touch was met with defense.

I think it's also good to recognize, Powder seems more willing to show support to Ekko in ways she didn't previously because they communicated.

Like the fact she chooses to sit across from him instead of next to him. This is a part of the flexibility I was talking about earlier. Because different parts may have different wants/needs/boundaries, being flexible can help both parties feel desired - instead of trying to continue things as if it were a previous part.

Another example of them now working as a team is Ekko supporting Powder at Vi's altar. Even though he has not experienced what she has (or doesn't remember it that way), he still recognizes it's importance to Powder and helps out. In real life, a part becoming aware of a partner's feelings and communication styles can also lead to moments like this, where a part who may not be aware of everything, tries their best to support you through your own struggles, even if it's not how your partner's system "typically" shows support.

Now, it seems in Arcane, Powder isn't fully aware of what Ekko is trying to build, but she still helps him to work through it. Now, in real life, a part who has switched in may have alternative goals compared to the rest of the system. In a case like this, where the goal isn't threatening or harmful, supporting that part can help build up that "team" based foundation. The part knows that even though you may not be their partner, you're still a safe person to go to in times of trouble, or just when they want a comfortable person around, even if there are no romantic feelings for them. This can be very important when high stress situations come about later, and can help parts open up about what's going on internally (because, remember, a lot of system communication/mental health is internal).

Additionally, because Ekko and Powder feel safer with each other, Powder feels okay asking questions. In real life, having a bridge of trust, even if it seems small, can lead to moments like this as well. Where a part feels open enough to answer questions, and not become defensive. Remember, at the beginning of this Ekko couldn't even be close to Powder without becoming defensive. These small steps have worked towards the goal of being able to communicate and trust each other, it's all built up.

Powder is clearly excited for what they've worked on together, because they're now a team (even if, again, it's not romantic like her Ekko). In real life, these connections can lead to those same feelings of excitement and commitment, even if it looks different from how it was with a different part.

We can also see that Ekko is open to how she likes to show affection (physical touch), and she's looking out for him ("Please go change before the party") because she understands and cares for him. Ekko also does change for the party, and in real life, this can be seen as a part caring right back. Following this is where they dance together, now she recognizes he dances differently ("Where'd you learn those moves?"), but still has a good time. Again, she's flexible and compassionate towards him.

Instead of choosing to be upset about how things are different, she accepts these differences and chooses to have a good time with Ekko. In real life, a part may do things differently - they may dance differently so to speak, but you can still enjoy what they have to offer (again, even if it's not inherently romantic).

Ekko thanks Powder. He was able to have a good time and experience something he thought couldn't be real. In real life, a part may be feeling the exact same way. They may feel their trauma memories, their past, clouds how the presents can be. By finding ways to support them and have good moments in the present, it can help them feel things do not have to be as bad as they've experienced. Along with this, Powder leans on his shoulder. She feels supported again as well, even if it's different. It took some work, but she's able to be vulnerable with him in the same way he's being vulnerable to her. And that's really important, even if the relationship between some system's parts aren't romantic, it's really important to feel like it's not completely one sided as a whole. Yeah, some parts may not be supportive like you're used to, but if you begin to feel resentment towards the system or feel like certain parts are ruining your relationship, I would recommend having a conversation about it. If you feel like you're not getting back what you're putting in, I would recommend having a conversation about it, because again, your feelings matter.

Moving on, they kissed. I don't necessarily want to focus on that. I want to focus on what happens right before. Powder goes in for a kiss, and Ekko rejects her ("Sorry, I..." and pulling back), and she looks hurt. She lets him know it's fine, but even while she's hurt, because they have that base "team" foundation, she waits patiently for him to explain. She doesn't just walk away, or lash out. She waits for him. And I think, a lot of systems, and certainly myself, just want someone to be willing to take it slow when we need. It's rough, and we recognize a lot of "typically" relationships don't have the amount of waiting that can be needed. But, truly, one of the most compassionate things I've experienced, is having someone gently pull the brakes and wait for me to be able to communicate.

Ekko communicates, he asks for her to "just pretend like it's the first time," but note, he looks hurt after asking. He seems to be waiting for rejection. In real life, a part may be like this. After the trauma they've went through, or the stress of switching in, they may just feel like they're waiting for the other shoe to fall. Ekko and Powder have worked towards being able to communicate towards one another, so he does open up, but that doesn't mean that feeling of anxiety goes away. This is part of why some parts may feel the need to take it slow, while others may be open and ready after only a couple steps.

Powder is flexible, patient, and kind to him. She is willing to pretend like it's the first time, and she doesn't act like it's some sort of chore. In real life, while a partner may be "pretending" it's the first time, please keep in mind that to the part that switched in it is the first time. It may be the first time for a lot of things (for feeling included, for being affectionally touched, for working with someone positively, for going out to a party, any of it). The good moments a partner chooses to have with a different part can help them feel more relaxed in the agitated state they've lived a lot of their life. Ekko grew up in a vastly different world, all of the kind things she is doing is completely foreign, and some parts switching in are the exact same way.

At the end, Powder sees him. In real life, in our time, I can't imagine being able to see other parts like this - where they have a physical body and what not. But, you may have a moment like this. A moment of recognition, of understanding. You might even have that moment without your partner's system knowing. You might find things you love (romantically or otherwise) that are different part to part. To keep the conclusion short, Powder does a wonderful job of showing patience, respect despite being confused, empathy, and compassion throughout this episode, and many moments shows kindness in unconventional ways. Please, remember to be kind to yourself, and of course, every system is different - so remember to communicate.

#did #did system #dissociative disorder #osddid #arcane s2 spoilers #arcane s2 #timebomb #ekkojinx #powder #dpdr #living with cptsd #relationship advice #mental health #im sorry im a rambler at heart #i cried #character analysis #long post

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roonotrue · 2 days ago

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Day 2 - Snowmen & Snow Angels with Kalim!

Twisted Wonderland Writings Masterpost

Prologue, Day 1

Prompt: When Kalim hears about Christmas from Lilia and Cater during a Pop Music Club meeting, he is so excited by the idea he goes to ask you more about the holiday- but he runs into your group of morons friends and they decide to recruit him to help distract you while the freshies enact their plan, now referred to as Operation 'Christmas Miracle!'

Reader: GN reader - They/Them pronouns and reader is called 'MC/Prefect.'

Included Characters: Kalim Al-Asim

Warnings: Mild Swearing.

AN: I should clarify that these are all alternate version stories, not some harem shit (not that anything's wrong with that). These are just different versions of the freshies finding one other person to help with their plan by distracting the MC aka you. Also, this series will continue until it's complete even if it bleeds into January so don't worry about it being discontinued or anything. I'm doing the full 12 days y'all.

~~~

"You... Want to go build snowmen?" You raise a brow at Kalim's cheerful words.

You just opened the door to Ramshackle, expecting one of your usual troublemakers to be the one frantically knocking at your door.

You even mentally bet money on it being Ace needing a place to crash to escape Riddle or something.

So you were decently surprised to see the radiant ray of sunshine that is the Scarabia Housewarden standing outside your door. Dressed in multiple thick maroon and gold layers of expensive-looking winter coats, thick white wool mittens, and a white and gold knit hat with a puff ball on top of it, he's also carrying a black and maroon backpack with the Scarabia dorm symbol on it.

All of this, you're sure, is due to Jamil being overly cautious so the young heir doesn't get sick. Then again, you've seen Jamil a few times too, and he was bundled up similarly. He told you they're not too used to snow in the Scalding Sands.

Who would've guessed?

"Yep! It'll be fun! We can make some at the main street so everybody will see them as they pass by!" Well, anything with Kalim is usually fun- mildly terrifying at times, but fun.

"Does Jamil know you're here?" It is the first question you need answered.

The last thing you want is a lecture from Jamil for playing in the snow with Kalim when he's meant to be doing something important.

"Of course! He wanted to come along, but I told him I just wanted it to be a 'me and you' thing, you know?" He says so sweetly, the words running through your heart like an arrow to your chest.

How could you possibly say no to him?

A cold wind runs past Kalim into the open doorway, and you shiver. You're still in your PJs, not really expecting to go out today since classes were canceled because of all the snow the night before.

"Uh, why don't you come inside Kalim? I've got to go get ready and it's freezing so I don't want to leave you waiting out here for me." You remark, beckoning him inside.

"So you'll come with me!? That's great! We can build the biggest snowman ever! And we can have a snowball fight, and-" He lists as he walks inside setting his bag down by the door.

"Slow down Kalim! Let's stick with snowmen for now and see how the day develops. Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna go get ready, and tell Grim where I'm going." You smile, motioning to the couch as you head up the stairs towards you and Grim's shared room.

"Okay! I'll be waiting!"

When you get upstairs, Grim is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, with a big yawn that pins his ears to his head. You struggle not to coo at him like he's a normal kitten.

"Who was at the door, henchhuman?" He asks as you shuffle through your closet.

"Kalim, he wants to go out and build snowmen, will you be fine on your own for a while?" You ask, and Grim suddenly jumps up.

"He's here already!?" The little outburst startles you and you turn away from the closet to look at him.

"You knew he was coming over?" You ask and Grim suddenly looks nervous.

"Uuuh- he mentioned coming over yesterday, didn't he? You were right there when he did!" Grim laughs nervously, and you narrow your eyes.

That definitely didn't happen. Grim has been acting odd the last two weeks, sneaking off, avoiding you, and blatantly lying.

You have half a mind to have cornered him days ago and demand answers, but the odd thing is- all your other friends are acting the same.

And so you're curious. They're planning something. Something they clearly don't want you to know about. Something that you will definitely get dragged into one way or another.

You want to confront them all before that happens, but you can never pin them all down in the same room- like rats they seem to scatter the second they see you approaching. So it's something big.

"Hmm. So will you be fine or not?" You repeat and turn back to the closet.

You'll let it go right now since Kalim is waiting downstairs, but you're interrogating him once you get home.

"Yeah! I'll be great! Just leave me a can of tuna, got it!" He smiles, and you duck away into the bathroom to change into your school uniform, and the winter coat Crewel had to scold Crowley into getting you.

"Got it, I'll leave it on the kitchen counter for you." You smile to yourself and head back downstairs.

"Okay, you ready to go, Kalim?" You ask as you get downstairs looking around the living area, where he's happily shuffling through his bag.

"Yep! And I remembered Jamil wanted me to give this to you!" He smiles as he holds up a folded piece of paper.

"Oh?" You tilt your head, curious, and grab the note, carefully unfolding it, you see Jamil's neat handwriting.

MC, Make sure he's back by nightfall- seriously. If I have to stop and take time away from frantically deep cleaning the dorm before winter break to come looking for him, I will overblot again.

That said, don't let him come back before nightfall either please. It's easier to clean when he's not here. Thank you.

Also - I packed you both hot tea in a thermos, and lunch.

I trust you to keep Kalim from doing anything stupid. Have fun.

- Jamil

"Ah. Okay. He hopes we have fun!" You decide to keep the rest to yourself, smiling as you tuck the note into your pocket.

"Aw, that's nice of him! Next time I'll be sure to bring him and we can all have fun!" Oh, you're certain he'll hate that, but that's a future problem for future you.

"Well, we'll see, I'm not to sure Jamil likes the cold that much." You nervously stutter out the white lie, leading the way to Ramshackles entrance.

"Really? I like how different it is from the heat of the Scalding Sands and Scarabia dorm! The snow is so pretty, and everything looks so different when it covers the campus!" He declares, even as he shivers from the cold air rushing in when you open the front door.

"It is, but I don't reckon it's the snow Jamil doesn't like, Kalim, just the cold." You laugh, subconsciously reaching out and fixing the others scarf, making sure it's tied properly.

"Hmm, yeah, I can see why he might not like it, we're not used to this kind of cold after all. But I'm kind of getting used to it! If I just keep spending time outside everyday, then eventually it won't bother me anymore!" He adjusts his mittens as he speaks, and you chuckle once more.

"Just don't stay out too long, or you'll get sick. So what are you planning on doing over winter break?" You ask and he lights up as you ask.

The two of you walk side by side towards the main street of NRC, you can see the condensation of your breath puffing up in the icy air as you talk, and he tells you all about his plans.

"Well, Jamil really wants me to focus on studying over break and getting the homework done- and since everything that happened last winter break, I'm really trying to do as he asks more to make things easier for him- but it's so hard! How can I sit still and study when I could be having fun with my family?" He sighs and you cringe a bit.

"It's good that you love your family so much and want to have fun with them, but it's important to study. You have to set a good example for your younger siblings right? And all the students in your dorm. If they see that you're not working hard in school, they won't either." You tell him, and he makes that funny face he makes.

When his face scrunches up in thought, brows furrowed, eyes cast down, a slight pout on his lips.

It's adorable.

"You're right, I know, it's just so hard to focus sometimes."

If you were in your world you would tell him he should get tested for ADHD, but you've learned that Twisted Wonderland really doesn't have much mental health awareness let alone care.

This school would have a lot less problems if it did.

"Well, I know a few tips and tricks. Maybe you can stop by again before winter break and I can give you some." You tell him and he smiles, bright as the sun.

"Really? I'd love that!" As to how the entirety of NRC doesn't thaw from his warm presence alone is a wonder.

"Yeah, really. You can bring Jamil too, that way I can show him a few tricks on how to help you if you need him to." A solid idea.

You knew a few people with ADHD and other problems that made it hard for them to focus back in your old world- hell, a large majority of the population had trouble with their attention span. So by proximity, you know a lot of things that may help him.

And a lot of things that will help Jamil help him.

"Oh... Does Jamil really have to be there? You could just write it down for him." Kalim suggests with a nervous smile that doesn't at all feel natural or right for him.

"Why don't you want him there? You just mentioned wanting him to come out for a snow day with us sometime." You tilt your head curiously, and Kalim rubs his arm sheepishly.

"Well, I do, it'd be nice if he could have fun with us, but I also like spending time with you when it's just the two of us? That's pretty selfish though, isn't it? I mean, you're so fun, and amazing, and supportive, it's not fair to want to hog all your attention, but..." He goes quiet his gaze falling to the ground, an uncertain, guilty look in his eyes that makes your heart clench painfully.

"Oh, Kalim, that's not selfish at all. It's okay to not want to hang out with a whole group of people all the time. We can hang out just the two of us whenever you want- well, so long as I'm not busy." You assure him with a gentle smile just as you two reach the main street.

"That would be amazing, MC! We should hang out tomorrow then! And the day after that! And this weekend! And-" Well... At least he's got that smile you love so much back.

"Okay, okay, why don't we just focus on today? And we can make arrangements for tomorrow later." You giggle, fucking giggle, the seven help you, you are down bad.

"Okay- so... How exactly do you make a snowman?" He asks, a thoughtful hand on his chin as he looks at the snowy area in front of you both.

You're not far from the statues of the seven, a perfect spot to build some snowmen where everyone who passes will see them.

"Well, we've got to start with the base- we just make a simple snowball, and then make it bigger and bigger until we roll it around on the ground, and it's big enough to support the middle and head of the snowman." You explain, ducking down and gathering some snow in your hands and making a snowball.

Kalim mimics your movement.

"So, Cater was telling me about this Christmas holiday you have in your world, and it made em wonder about what other holidays you have that Twisted Wonderland doesn't- if you don't mind me asking?" Kalim asks as you both reach the point of rolling the snowballs on the ground.

"Oh, I don't mind at all... Well, you guys have a few holidays that are similar to the ones in my world- like Halloween, we have that in my world- you can stop there with that one, Kalim, we'll make that the body." You motion for him to stop rolling the snowball.

"Really? What do you usually dress up as? Scarabia dressed as kitsune- that has to be my favorite costume so far." He asks, a silly smile on his face that makes your chest flutter.

You two spend the next fifteen minutes talking about your Halloween experiences in your world, and what your costumes were, etc. Kalim tells you about his younger siblings about how one year, three of them decided to dress as ghosts with sheets over their heads, and he nor his parents could tell them apart as they were running around their home.

It's sweet, and you'd love to meet some of them one day. Though you're going to have to have a serious talk with Jamil about which of Kalim's siblings you need to avoid like the fucking plague.

"Okay, so these should all be good, now we have to stack 'em! Here, the middle one you rolled, can put it on the big one." You direct and he listens, focusing entirely on carefully lifting the large snowball and placing on top the even larger one.

Once he does, you place the smallest snowball on top.

"And there's the head. Now we decorate! I'm sure there's some sticks around here that we can use for the arms, and rocks for the eyes, mouth, and buttons." You look around on the ground- and Kalim follows your lead.

"Oh, here! Will this work for one arm?" He holds up a rather large stick that would make a decent arm you suppose.

"Yeah, we just gotta find another one like it. You look for that, and I'll find some stones." You tell him and go about looking around on the main street itself.

The stone path has some loose pebbles scattered about that you certain no one will miss, so you go about collecting the larger ones to act as your snowman's face and buttons.

You almost wish you'd stopped by Mr. S's for a carrot. But alas, you'll stick with a plain old rock for a nose.

Onc you fill your pockets with a handful of ideal rocks, you head back to the snowman to find Kalim looking really hard at two sticks on the ground.

"Didja' find another stick?" You ask, making your way next to him, breaking him out of his thoughts, he flashes you a bright smile.

"Yep! But it's way smaller- so I was thinking we should break the other one to make it smaller to right?" He says and you look at the sticks.

"Hm. Or we can use them as they are? It'd be kinda funny having a snowman with wonky arms." You chuckle at the mental image, and Kalim is quick to agree with you.

"You're right, it would! And it'll make people laugh on there way to class these last few days before break!" He picks up the sticks and hands you one, and you in turn hand him a handful of rocks.

"For his face- I'll let you do that bit, and I'll do the buttons."

It doesn't take long to give your snowman all his features, with Kalim dedicating extra time to it's large smile.

"Did you make snowmen a lot in your world?" He asks as you both back up to look at your work.

"Hm, a few times, yeah. I liked making snow angels too." You sigh wistfully, and turn to find Kalim's eyes on you.

Studying your face with a curious expression for a long moment before his eyes actually meet yours, and he looks almost startled out of... Whatever he was doing/thinking.

"What's a snow angel?" He asks, and you smile.

"I'll show you- over here." You waltz a little ways away from you two's snowman and turn to face Kalim head on.

"Step one, spread your arms out!" You show him, pointing your arms directly out on either side of you.

"Step two, fall!" You laugh as you let yourself fall back.

"Ah! MC!" Kalim shouts, startled by your actions, you even see him reach out to try and catch you.

When you hit the ground, the the soft thicker blanket of snow on the ground here softens the blow enough that there's not an ounce of pain. Just cold, creeping in through the cheap fabric of your coat.

But it's not that bad, so you press on.

"I'm fine, Kalim, it's part of the process! Now step three, swing your arms and legs back and forth like this!" You show him and he looks on with wide curious eyes.

Completely fascinated by whatever it is you're doing.

"And then, you get up real carefully- ah- can you help?" You sit up, and reach out to him, not wanting to put your hands down and ruin it.

"Of course!" He grabs both of your outstretched hands and yanks you up.

A tad to forcefully as you lift up off the ground you're pulled forward to much and tumble into him.

The first thing you note, is that he radiates warmth. The second thing you note, is that you're so close that every time you breath, your noses lightly brush together. His eyes are trained on yours wide with shock.

"Ah! I'm sorry- are you okay, MC!?" He asks, stepping back, you laugh, trying to will away the blush on your face.

"I'm fine, Kalim, uh- look! The final product! That's a snow angel." You turn away, making a ta-da motion towards your imprint on in the snow.

A perfect snow angel.

"Oh! It's like a lady with wings! A bird beastman?" He asks, his attention successfully redirected to the snow.

"Well, we don't exactly have those in my word, but we do have stories about human-like beings with wings, that act as guardians for human, watching over us and stuff. A lot of people believe their real, a lot don't. Either way, they're real fun to make." You explain, brushing the snow off the back of your coat and head as best as you can.

"It sure looked fun! I want to try! I just spread my arms like this, right?" He copy's your previous motions, a foot away from your snow angel.

"Yeah, just like that- make sure the snow is deep enough to catch your fall without hurting." You warn him and he nods looking back to assess and then letting himself fall just as you did.

He laughs as he plops into the snow, and swings his arms and legs back and forth.

You help him up just as he did you- though a bit more carefully, and admire his work.

"Perfect! A top tear snow angel. You're a professional, Kalim." You compliment with a wink, and he scratches the back of his head with a bright smile.

"Thanks! You're a great teacher! We should make more! Oh, and another snowman! So the one won't get lonely!" He suggests and you really do start to feel like a kid again as you both run around plopping into the snow, making snow angels.

And you end up making a few more snowmen- having to go out of your way and leave to find more sticks out by the Botanical Garden, stopping every so often when you find a good spot to make another snow angel.

You pass by several students during this who look at you both like you're crazy- but you really can't find it in your heart to care.

Not when Kalim is looking at you with that radiant smile, and his laughter is ringing in your ears like music.

"We should stop and warm up inside the garden for a bit Kalim, maybe have some of that tea and lunch Jamil packed us." You remark, flexing your fingers as they grow numb.

"Yeah, I am getting pretty hungry..." He trails off as you both enter the garden- the warmth immediately surrounding you both.

You shrug off your jacket and move to sit at one of the benches nearby, and Kalim follows, pulling his backpack off and in front of him to unzip and grab your lunches.

"Jamil made us some grilled sandwiches, is that okay?" He hands you a container with yours and you smile assuring.

"Of course it is."

You two enjoy a long moment of silence, enjoying your food, tea, and the warmth around you before Kalim speaks up again.

"You know, I've never wanted to hang out with people alone before." he says suddenly and you look up at him curiously.

"Ah- or well, what I mean, is that I never mind it when others join us. The more the merrier you know? I've never had the feeling of truly wanting to just... Hang out with one person and no one else before." He elaborates, and turns to meet your gaze.

"I don't really understand why, but it makes me really happy, doing fun stuff just with you, building snowmen, making snow angels, and even just eating lunch together... I'd like to do fun stuff like this with you all the time, if that's okay with you?" He asks, a little bashfully, head tilted down with a gentle, nervous smile.

"Kalim..." You murmur his name, thoughts suddenly very uncertain.

Yet your face flushes when he glances up at your voice, eyes meeting yours in a hopeful bloom of poinsettia red.

From the very day you met him- despite a lot of the initial poor circumstances, Kalim has always been one of the friendliest faces at NRC. Always happy to see you, always the first to go out of his way to try and help you, and always the first person you look for in the hallways when you need cheering up, or just to see his perfect, radiant smile.

"You, uh, might wanna be careful there, you might make me think you're asking me on a date." You chuckle nervously, rubbing at the back of your neck as you turn away.

Your face feels hot and you're really starting to miss the cold outside.

Kalim is silent for a long moment, such a long moment that it makes you glance back at him.

He's wearing a wide eyed expression, mouth slightly agape, as a flush paints his face. There is a slow creeping emotion in his eyes that you can't quite place, that leads them to dart around your face- looking for something maybe?

But then he meets your gaze directly and lets out a small gasp of realization.

End then he's tumbling forward out of his seat to grab at your upper arms.

"Ah! Kalim-"

"That exactly what I want!" He shouts and a wide smile back on his face, his eyes sparkling with joy.

"Huh?" Not the most eloquent response, but you're completely dumbfounded by the suddenness of... All of this.

If you weren't flushed before, you certainly are now, eyes wide, and jaw on the floor.

"I want to date you, MC! You're amazing, and smart, and kind, and fun, and-" He says with a brilliant smile, listing off the compliments like they're the most obvious things in the world.

"K-Kalim! Slow down, this is-" Everything you could have wanted. Wrapped up in a sparkling bow, with a gift tag that says 'to good to be true.'

"You don't mean that- I know we're good friends-" He's said it so many times, there's a permanent dent in your heart where the words are hammered in.

"Of course I mean it! MC, you're wonderful, and I wanna be able to hug you, and kiss you, and take you out on dates, and magic carpet rides so we can look at the stars together!" He interrupts you, eyes blazing with determination.

Oh geez, he's really serious about this, huh?

By the seven, of course Kalim would only realize he liked you when you pointed it out directly. He's just like that- not really understanding things unless you say them outright. He can't take a hint for the life of him.

"Please, MC? I promise I'll be the best boyfriend ever! And we'll go on the best dates! And we'll make snowmen and snow angels ever single winter!" He continues, grabbing your hands into his.

You note just how warm they are- or maybe yours are just still cold, but with how warm it is in the garden you doubt that.

It's just Kalim.

Warm, radiant, fun, and joyful Kalim.

You stare at your interlocked hands for a long, long moment as Kalim waits for your response, lost in a sea of emotion.

He likes you. He really, actually likes you.

"MC?" He squeezes you hands tighter, pulling your gaze back up to him.

"Kalim, you are so oblivious it's painful at times- of course I'll date you!" You smile, and watching as his whole face lights up like fireworks is a beautiful sight.

You laugh as he jumps forward, pulling you into a tight hug that you gladly return.

"Really? Thank you, MC! You won't regret it, I promise!" He vows and you pat his back gentle.

"I know I won't. Now we should get back to the snowmen, they probably look pretty silly just standing out there with no arms." You chuckle and Kalim pulls back.

"Yeah, you're probably right. You're always right." He sighs wistfully and you hold back an eyeroll, a smile permanently stuck to your face.

You both pack up pretty quickly, with Kalim pausing to look at you several times for long moments with a dopey smile on his face, before turning back to putting things back in his bag and putting his gloves and scarf back on.

When you two head back outside, the cold takes a moment to adjust to, and in the corner of your eye you can see Kalim try and pull his scarf tighter.

"Here, let me-" You move forward, grabbing his scarf, undoing it, and then tying it properly around his neck so it keeps him warm and stays in place.

It's a quiet moment, suspiciously so, and when you look back to the white haired boy his scarlet eyes are staring at you intensely.

You both are a lot closer then you thought, and you can see the fog of his breath mixing with yours.

"Kalim?" You ask, leaning further forward almost subconsciously, and his hands come to rest at your sides.

"Can I kiss you, MC? Please?" He asks, in a low whisper, and you give a gentle nod.

When your lips connect it's almost scalding how warm he is. But even more notably, he's so gentle.

Like he's nervous.

So you take the initiative. Pulling him closer by his scarf, and kissing him deeper, you feel him smile into the kiss, and you can't help but smile to as you pull back, but not far.

You noses still brushing together, Kalim giggles, his breath warm on your face.

"Can I do that again?" He asks, and you chuckle.

"Well, we're dating now, so you can do it whenever you want." You inform him and he jumps forward, holding you tightly as he kisses you, quick sweet pecks, over and over. Mostly on your lips, some on your cheeks and nose.

"K-Kalim!" You stutter between laughs and kisses.

"I can hug you too whenever I want, right? And come visit you, and get you gifts, and-" He starts listing and you have to put a cold hand over his mouth to pause him.

"Yes, yes, and only every once in awhile. I don't want Ramshackle overflowing with a sea of lavish gifts, Kalim. I don't need any gifts really. I just like being with you, that's enough for me." You tell him and he smiles, but it turns to a slight pout after a moment.

"Are you sure? You deserve nice things, and Jamil tells me you don't have many in Ramshackle." He asks, and you roll your eyes.

"I have what matters, Kalim. A roof over my head, clothes on my back, edible food, and okay roommates. Having an amazing boyfriend is the cherry on top. I'm not a fancy or extravagant person, Kalim, so please, don't go getting me anything extravagant." You tell him, and he sighs in defeat.

"Okay... I can get you a few things, right? Like flowers, and jewelry, and pretty clothes-"

"Flowers. You can get me flowers, and maybe some of those other things on special occasions only." You tell him firmly, even if there's still a smile on your face.

"Okay, I can do that! You have to tell me all your favorite flowers!" He asks (demands?) and you let out a gentle laugh, pulling away, grabbing his hand to hold as you both walk back to your snowmen.

You list some of your favorite flowers, up until you get back to the snowmen, and finish them off with their stick arms.

"There! They look great." You comment, backing up to admire the finished product.

Surrounded by snow angels all over the snowy ground, the snowmen actually look quite nice.

"Hm, we should get them some clothes- scarfs and hats, you know?" Kalim says from beside you.

"Hm, maybe we can swing by Sam's later and get some cheap ones, but I think we ought to call it a day, Grim will be wondering where I am by now." You check the time on your phone, seeing it's nearing early evening.

"H-huh? But we should go now so they don't get cold!" Kalim stumbles out, rushing to stand in front of you.

He has that panicked look in his eyes.

"... Kalim, they're made of snow." You say we an amused smirk and a raised brow.

"I- I know, but... Um, I wanna spend more time with you..." He comments, giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you've ever seen, and you let out an defeated huff.

How can you say no to that face?

"Alright. But we gotta be finished by sunset, got it?" You sigh, and Kalim quickly steps forward and places another loving peck on your lips.

"Alright! And I can walk you home after." And he kisses you again.

And then again.

"Kalim- we should get going." You chuckle, putting a finger on his lips to stop him from pecking your lips again.

"Oh! Right, okay. I just really like doing that." He chuckles bashfully, and you smile, this time kissing him on the cheek playfully.

"I can tell. Now let's get going." You pull him along and he follows dumbly, a goofy smile on his face the whole way.

This is going to be an amazing Christmas. You can just tell.

~~~

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bluejaysandblackbats · 2 days ago

Text

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 4/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Four: Fight and Flight

Gabi followed Bruce out onto the trail behind the house. “How are you doing, Bruce? You’ve been awful quiet this whole walk,” Gabi whispered.

Bruce picked up a big branch and used it as a walking stick. “I’m just thinking,” Bruce whispered, “Be careful. You might have to hold my hand through here. There’s a cave. It’s supposed to be closed off, but—.” Bruce turned around and reached for her hand. Gabi smiled and held Bruce’s hand. “I don’t want you to fall in.”

“Thank you, Bruce. I wasn’t asking you about—. I was asking in general,” Gabi explained.

“Not so good, I guess. I always feel like something bad is going to happen, but I’m tired of being scared about it,” Bruce confessed, “Everything scares me now…”

“Like everything reminds you of that night?” Gabi questioned as they walked around a log and over a large rock.

“Yeah… Aunt Gabi, is it ever gonna stop being this way?” Bruce whispered. Gabi frowned as Bruce tapped a board with his walking stick. “We’re gonna go around your way.”

“Okay… And Bruce, have you ever thought about talking to a doctor—.”

“I don’t want to talk to a doctor. I want to be prepared the next time something bad happens,” Bruce sighed.

Gabi grew silent as she pondered Bruce’s reply, and she quietly discussed different ways to approach the issue. “Do you mind if I talk to your parents about this when we get back? I think I have an idea, but I want to see how they’d feel about it first before I tell you,” Gabi explained. Bruce nodded. Let’s go back. Okay?”

“Alright, Aunt Gabi,” Bruce replied, still holding onto her hand as he turned around.

Martha listened to Gabi explain her thoughts while Thomas wrote something down in his journal. They occasionally shifted their glance to Jacob and Alfred taking turns playing tennis with Bruce. “I don’t know. Couldn’t that make things worse? Introduce him to new worst-case scenarios?” Martha asked.

“Well, it might… But he’d be prepared for it. I know that doesn’t remove the fear, and I don’t think that part of him can be easily fixed, but I know a first aid class is a good start to giving him some of his power back,” Gabi replied, “I didn’t say any of this to Bruce. I wanted to see how you two felt about it first.”

“Thomas?” Martha asked. “Are you paying attention?”

Thomas looked up and nodded. “Gabi’s right. And I think it’d be a good opportunity to organize something for the community, too. Maybe something good can come out of all of this. I was writing down a list of calls we need to make if I want to make this work,” Thomas replied. Martha reached for Thomas, and he scooped her hand up and leaned forward to kiss her knuckles. “Unless you don’t want him to…”

“I—. I’m scared, too. I don’t—. Can we talk to Bruce about it first? It’ll give me some time to think,” Martha replied, “And Gabi, I appreciate all your help. I never want you to think that I don’t. I’m glad my brother married you. It’s the best gift he’s ever given me… A sister… And pretty soon, a niece or nephew.”

“Oh, yeah! Congratulations, Gabi!” Thomas exclaimed. “I couldn’t be more excited for you. Really, I couldn’t. You’ll love being a mother. I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you. I’m looking forward to the final trimester, so I don’t have to worry all the time. It’s so early on, but I figured you both ought to know,” Gabi smiled. Thomas set his journal aside.

“Oh, the worrying never ends,” Martha laughed, “But it’s so worth it. It really is… And you’re so strong. Boy or girl, they’re going to be a force of nature.”

Bruce walked over and quietly stood off to the side, waiting for an invitation to come closer. “Bruce, do you want to sit with me for a little while?” Martha asked. Bruce nodded and sat beside her, while she popped the top off of a soda and handed it to him. “Gabi had an idea. She said that you might benefit from taking a first aid class to help you feel more in control in an emergency situation, and I—.”

“Could I?” Bruce interrupted without meaning to.

Martha looked at Thomas, and he shrugged. “Sure, lovey. Of course, but I think I’d feel better if I went with you,” Martha suggested. Bruce set his soda aside and embraced her. “That’s okay with you?”

“Uh-huh! We can do it together!” Bruce exclaimed. Martha smiled as tears welled up in her eyes, and she swallowed hard to suppress them. “Thank you, Aunt Gabi!”

After Gabi and Jacob left, Bruce returned to school. Even before the shooting, Bruce had a difficult time connecting with other children his age. Most of them ridiculed him for being awkward, but he didn’t mind it until the children started using the shooting in the alley as ammunition to torment him. He’d been back for three days before a group of children chased him on the playground with confetti cannons, shouting Crime Alley over and over until they cornered him. They kept laughing and popping off confetti cannons until Bruce snapped and threw a punch. And he kept punching until the yard duties pulled him away from the group.

He screamed and turned his face into the male security guard’s shoulder as he sobbed hysterically. He didn’t stop until Martha arrived with Alfred. Alfred cleaned and dressed Bruce’s knuckles before affectionately brushing a few tears from Bruce’s cheek with his thumb. “Master Bruce, I think there’s something to be learned from this,” Alfred whispered. Bruce braced up, waiting for Alfred to chastise them. “You weren’t afraid. Were you, Master Bruce?” Alfred winked, provoking a smile from Bruce. Alfred replied with a gentle brush of his knuckles against Bruce’s chin.

Martha exited the office with a satisfied grin on her face as she reached for Bruce. He ran into her arms, and she held him on her hip. “Let’s go pick your father up,” Martha whispered.

“Am I in trouble?” Bruce asked.

“Given the circumstances… No. We’ll talk more after we get home,” Martha replied as she kissed his cheek. “Are we ready to go?” Bruce nodded as she set him down. He held her hand as they left the office, and Alfred drove them to the doctor’s office to pick up Thomas. He was outside talking to a man on forearm crutches. They were smiling and laughing. Thomas looked out toward the street and pointed at Martha and Bruce before waving. Martha smiled, but it was the kind of smile she'd give to someone to take the bite off of bad news. Thomas’ smile faded as he realized the time of day, and he nodded at her.

Thomas looked at his friend, and they parted ways before Bruce and Martha crossed the street to get to him. Thomas hugged Bruce. “What’s going on? Why aren’t you at school?” Thomas questioned.

“Can we talk about it at home, honey?” Martha asked.

“Alright. Well, Bruce, are you okay at least?” Thomas questioned as he looked Bruce over. “Looks like you’re all there. Oh, but you’re a little scraped up in the knuckle department. Alfred’s bandaging work, I see. Did ya win, Champ?”

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